Operation Noble Thunder

[Surdra]

“Merdeka” is Ragaanese for “freedom.” For the Ragaanese (North Gutan is a name made up by the Gutanese to legitimize their claim over Ragaan), as with all people, freedom is more than a value in itself, it also implies truth, justice, dignity, the absence of oppression, and a good life for oneself and one’s family. For many people, Ragaanese among them, these values understandably carry a scared force. And this was especially case in the years following the withdrawal of the old colonial empires. What was to be the start of a new age of independence, but was instead just another chapter of oppression. While simultaneously proclaiming anti-colonialism and Merdeka, Gutan invaded Ragaan and occupied it, showering the Ragaanese with promises of prosperity and safety.

What did this Gutanese version of Merdeka bring? Not a lot. Though there was illusions of a democracy – a president, cabinet ministers, and a parliament, the Military by and large ran the country from behind the scenes. Instead of a government of, by, and for the people, it was a government of, by, and for the Military. Almost all the provinces in the country, Ragaan included, were operated as private fiefs by the generals, for their own benefit. Many of the military’s officers and soldiers held murder and looting to be their legal right. The more thuggish and murderous of local militias (various gangs and tribal groups hired to put down opposition to the government, i.e., to the Military) were supported and supplied by various military commanders.

The military has in fact a legal “justification” for its power position in Gutan. It was specifically charged by the Gutanese constitution to protect, guard, and nature the nation. The Generals took this to mean they were licensed to run things the way they wanted.

For Ragaan, the inevitability of the event seemed so clear in retrospect, yet this did not mitigate the surprise. Ragaan had never fully bought in to the nationalism that was preached from the South. Nor did they see why they should subjugate themselves for corrupt Generals when they struggled each day to carve out a merger existence.

So, in the spring of 1988 the anger towards their Gutanese overlords could no longer be contained. The uprising that followed was anything but bloodless. In eight violent hours of darkness, combat veterans of the Ragaan Liberation Army systematically assassinated senior Gutanese military officers during parties celebrating the anniversary of the formation of Gutan. By dawn most of the military formations in Ragaan had been decapitated. Across the airwaves went out a cry of independence that caught Gutan and the rest of the world by surprise. The Kingdom of Surdra was the only nation with any inkling of what was happening.

The Gutanese response was predictably intemperate.

What followed was two long decades of war that tore Ragaan apart. What began as a war of independence quickly turned into genocide as tens of thousands of Ragaanese died fighting for Merdeka. And tens of thousands more were murdered or massacred because they were a threat to it – Gutanese , who have lived on the island for generations , because it was believed they had undeservedly taken wealth from the native born; Christians because they were no Muslims; Muslims because they were not Christians.

By the start of the 21st century the war between Ragaan and Gutan had developed into a stalemate. Gutan, while vastly stronger, could never fully eliminate the RLA nor reestablish the control it once had over the people of Ragaan. And the RLA, while able to inflict large amounts damage to the Gutanese military, never had the strength to completely remove Gutan from Ragaan, nor could fully unite Ragaan. What resulted was de facto Ragaanese independence as Gutan declared North Gutan an autonomous region, thereby unofficially surrendering Ragaan back to the Ragaanese as they pulled their military back into Gutan while still denying any claims of Ragaanese independence.

Gutan was determined to retain control of North Gutan. So rather than try to invade again and unite the various factions, Gutan used the same weapon that their old colonial rulers had used with great success, “divide and rule.” They played the divergent interests and goals of many minority groups off against each other to keep a firm grip on Ragaanese affairs. Gutan also funneled men and arms north into North Gutan and promised the very same groups they had used to enforce their will back in the day with even more wealth and power when Gutan returned.

It most likely would have worked, if not for the fact that the world had changed. When things were at their darkest Ragaan found an unusual ally, one of the very same old colonial powers that they had fought for independence generations ago, the Kingdom of Surdra. Surdra, who had helped fund and supply the RLA back during the uprising in 1988, sent men and materials to help fight the Gutan-backed militias.

But more importantly Ragaan finally had a strong ruler to unite the various factions. The western educated Gajah Adil was elected to the presidency and almost immediately brought an end to the infighting of Ragaan’s various minority groups. He then helped quickly (but carefully) create a special counter-insurgency unit called the JRSF (Joint Ragaanese Special Forces). Slowly, but surely, the JRSF, aided by Surdran Special Forces, beat the militias back and maintained a quiet, if uneasy peace, giving Ragaan and Adil a strong start at rebuilding the island’s devastated infrastructure. And by the start of 2020, the fourth year of Adil’s Presidency, Ragaan had finally turned the corner. Revenue from tourism and new mining contracts to western companies helped fuel new public works projects along with the modernizing of the Ragaan Defense Forces.

This was all for Adil’s primary goal, the formal independence of Ragaan. It had been a long road to this moment, but on a warm Friday morning the Ragaanese National Congress gathered in the capital to formally vote if Ragaan would once again declare its independence from Gutan. The world would never hear their decision.


ODA 1332 Team House
Grand Aquila Hotel
Rumadan, Ragaan
1126 19 February 2021

“Shit!” said Captain John Grant, Commander of ODA 1332, as the early afternoon flash caused him to leap for cover. The glare came outside his hotel room’s large window, from the direction of the center of Rumadan, the capital of Ragaan. Grant, almost without thinking, rolled out of his chair and dove behind his bed pulling the blankets down over himself, admittedly not much protection. He had a good idea what had caused the flash. And it was just about the last thing he imagined he’d run into in Rumadan. He covered his head with his arms just as the sound of the blast came.

The blast wave shattered the room’s window, shredding the drapes, and sending razor sharp shards of glass flying across the room. The wind whipped through the room like a hurricane, throwing bits of the room around. The sound of the blast was deafening, it sounded like a freight train was rolling through the room. Slowly the wind and noise went away.

Grant stood up, went over to his now shattered window, and threw open the ripped and torn drapes. Only a few miles away to the north, in the center of the capital where the Presidential Palace should have been, a dark grey mushroom cloud was roiling up.

“My Gods!” he shouted at the top of his voice, without realizing it.

He had not yet to begun to form serious questions. But on the outer edges of his consciousness a few were starting to take shape: Somebody had just nuked the capital of Ragaan, but it couldn't have been a real nuke, it was too small. Anything bigger and he would have been dead. But mostly, Why?

“My Gods!”

He thought of Karen and the girls. Was this a worldwide thing? he wondered. The Big madness? Or just a local insanity. Something in him told him that they were okay…that he was in the middle of some local insanity. But I got problems!

Then it dawned on him, Shit! The National Congress was in session today! As he tried to see if the Ragaanese Capital building was still standing he had another realization, The Embassy! The Surdran embassy was gone! The whole Bravo detachment was there!

Someone was standing in his now door-lees doorway, “Sir, you okay?”

It was Grant’s warrant, Adriana Navarro, looking just as dazed as Grant felt. Unlike grant, she wasn’t fully dressed, just wearing a pair of slip-on shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers. From her wet hair Grant guessed she had been in the shower when the nuke went off.

“Yeah,” Grant answered. “You Navarro?

“Ticking.”

“Come on Navarro, we need to get going,” Grant said, realizing that they had a lot to do. Somebody had just set off a nuke. And he knew he and the rest of his ODA had just been elected to be the start of whatever the Surdran response was going to be.

[Surdra]

Blackhall Palace
Avalon, Surdra
0357(1157) 19 February 2021

“So what gives?” King Michael asked, visibly upset, as he entered the Situation Room. He had been peacefully in bed, when he was awoken by a phone call from General Daniel Martin, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, urgent enough to pull him out of bed in the early hours in the morning. The King was an early riser but even being woken up ten minutes before four in the morning was too early even for him.

The King, a tall, lean man, with greying dark-brown hair, was still wearing his pajamas and dark red bath robe, and was accompanied by two Great Danes. He had the almost too-relaxed manner of somebody’s grandfather, which had charmed the citizens of the Kingdom. The manner was deceiving; he was not as easygoing as he looked. He had served with distinction as a company commander during the ’91 Surdran intervention in Puerto Oro and again as a staff officer during the war with Verusea in ’93, he then assumed the throne in ’97, and since then had been the main driving force behind the Kingdom of Surdra’s foreign and domestic policies. He was smart, tough, charismatic, decisive, and short-tempered.

And the dogs were obedient. The King murmured a command and the dogs laid down quietly on both sides of the chair the King usually occupied. Then the king looked around, expecting to see more than the two top advisors now present . . . until it hit him that it was four in the morning, his other advisors were most likely just now getting the same call he had received and would be rushing from their homes.

The expression on Martin’s face was grim. Next to him stood Kya Hurdle, his National Security Minister, also grim.

“Your Majesty,” Martin announced, “word came to NMCC from Eagle Rock a few minutes ago that our DSP Remus bird has picked up a double-flash in Ragaan.” He paused a second to let that sink in, and in case it didn’t, he added, “Somebody has sent off a nuke.”

The National Military Command Center at the Ministry of Defense is the clearinghouse for military significant events. Defense Support Program satellites, in geosynchronous orbits, sense bursts of high-intensity thermal and other radiation. They see, in other words, events like rocket and nuclear detonations. The DSP bird then relayed the news to the 11th Space Warning Squadron at Eagle Rock Air Force Base in northern Surdra, who fed the data to the SURAD warning center at the Eagle Rock Mountain Complex, who then relayed it to the NMCC and the King. If a clear and present danger to the Kingdom of Surdra had been perceived along the path (such as missile launches whose warhead trajectories ended in the Kingdom of Surdra or near Surdran facilities overseas), the King would have been informed within a minute. In the current situation, were the risk to Surdra was even more remote, it took half an hour. During that time the CJCS and other high-level national security types availed themselves of that time to inform themselves of current Surdran military and relief capabilities in and around the Southwest Remus. They wanted to give the King some options.

“Where exactly?” the King asked.

“Early estimates put it in Rumadan, Sir.” Martin answered. He brought up a map on his tablet and showed the King the location.

“Was this a terrorist attack General?”

“No . . . well it’s possible but I would say unlikely Sir.” Then he added, with a puzzled look, “There’s nothing really militarily significant there, or strategically or economically significant either, for that matter. I can think of a half a dozen other targets within a thousand miles that would be much better targets.”

“Its not exactly the most peaceful place in the world,” Minister Hurdle quipped, “Muslims fighting Christians and vice versa and such. Lot of groups over there are still holding grudges. Not a lot of folks wear haloes.”

“Possible,” Martin admitted.

“We need to get more facts,” the King decided, “What do we have over there? Have we been able to contact our embassy? What else do we have over there? Anything? Anybody? . . . And where are the carriers?”

“We haven’t been able to reach our embassy yet your Majesty,” Hurdle answered grimly, “We don’t know if it’s just that their communication equipment was destroyed by the EMP or . . .”

“Or it’s no longer there,” the King finished her sentence.

“Yes your Majesty.”

“We might have gotten lucky there Sir,” Martin responded. “We have the better part of a Special Forces company actually in Rumadan, working with a Ragaanese special forces unit and local police, doing peacekeeping, communications and police training, and civil affairs infrastructure things. I’ve got people trying to get in touch with them as we speak. They got comms gear built to withstand the EMP but even then communications will still be dicey.”

“I understand.”

I also talked to CDRKSRECOM on my way over here. She’ll be giving me a list of units she can swing into Ragaan fast . . . And we might be in luck there, Sir. There’s a carrier battle group near Madalu, along with its Marine MEU (SOC) and ARG. We should be able to get them up near Ragaan four days after you give the word.”

“Tell CDRKSRECOM to start them moving.”

“They probably have already received the warning order. I’ll flash the go-ahead to CDRKSRECOM.” Martin gave his aide a nod, who moved to the other side of the room and picked up a phone.

“And what else?”

“I have anticipated that we’ll need to go to DEFCON 4. And I recommend DEFCON 3 for those units in the region, or bordering it.”

“Go ahead, do that.” The King ordered.

DEFCON numbers represent states of military alertness. There are five of them. Peace is DEFCON 5 (peace in the sense that there was nothing serious to worry about currently). At DEFCON 4, command authorities begin to get a little nervous. At DEFCON 3, forces go on increased alert. At DEFCON 2, the threat looks imminent. DEFCON 1 is war. At DEFCON 1, pray for the survival of the human species.

“And tell me what you hear from those Special Forces guys. I want to know what’s going on out there. And I want to know now.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the CJCS and the National Security Minister said as one.

“Meanwhile,” the King said, finishing up, “we are going to very soon get inundated with questions and alarms from the media. I don’t want to deal with them until we have some kind of handle on this thing. But have a statement for them from me drafted by this time tomorrow,” this last part was directed to his Chief-of-Staff who was standing off to his side.

“It will be done Sir.”

“Oh yeah, make sure all of the advisors are here within an hour. I have a feeling that things are going to get worse before they get better.”


Presidential Palace
Kotanan, Gutan
1719 19 February 2021

Sukarno Wahid was having another in a long string of bad says here in his office. The Gutanese president had not seen a ray of sunshine for a week, it had been raining nearly nonstop in Kotanan for a week, and he was beginning to wonder if he would ever see sun again.

The current Gutanese President had been a popular provincial governor before he ran for and won his present office. He’s become the political leader of his party, and was then elected to national office because he was an honest man. He’d offered a pleasant contrast to the scandal and graft of the previous administration. Unfortunately (tragically, as it transpired), during all the discussions and analyses of what he was not, nobody had ever thought to ask what kind of ruler Wahid would be. It would have been an illuminating question. As Wahid himself was the first to admit, he was a better follower than leader. But no one thought to ask the question. From his first day as President of Gutan, with a vast majority in Parliament, Sukarno Wahid had been in over his head.

Several weeks ago, they learned of Ragaan’s intention to formally declare Independence once again from Gutan. Unlike the last time Ragaan had tried to declare independence, Wahid and his advisors had known that the international community would likely support such a move. His Defense Minister had badgered him into allowing him to stopping the Ragaanese vote. He had expected the general to stage some military drills or maybe sail his country's only aircraft carrier into Ragaanese waters like they had done in the past. He had not expected the General to detonate one of their nuclear weapons in the Ragaanese capital. Even after all that, the man was still badgering him for more. Wahid wasn’t happy with the way matters stood. Sukarno was aware of the consequences of his government’s actions. How could he not? There were tens of thousands of Ragaanese were dead. For years into the future even more would die from the lasting effects of the nuclear blast.

But Wahid’s current problem was not centered on what was happening to the people in Rumadan. He was more worried about what could happen if they were to let Ragaan to actually become independent. Already other areas of Gutan were showing signs of slipping away from Gutan’s influence. Gutan was not a “melting pot” like Boltor, Malecia, and Surdra, but rather a huge patchwork quilt composed of many different distinct languages and ethnic groups. Held together only by the iron force of the military, Gutan could fragment into a hundred little kingdom’s and regions – unless Wahid could make the center hold. In Wahid’s opinion, a crucial stage of this in this process was insuring that Ragaan remain firmly under Gutan’s influence.

Currently President Wahid was in the middle of a shouting match between his Defense Minister and the other Ministers. While the island was a de facto province of Gutan, and the rest of the Gutanese population would have seen allowing the Ragaanese to go their own way as a sign of weakness, the rest of the government was angry that they had not been informed of the Defense Minister’s plans. Even the service chiefs, save the Army Chief, were upset that the Defense Minister had not included them.

Now the Defense Minister was outlining his plan to retake Ragaan, and informing the other service chiefs what their roles would be. This single man was going to decide the fate of two nations, and he was not viewing the situation with any sense of reality.

“We will not stand for this act of treason by a handful of political agitators nor will we allow the west to dictate to us our own internal affairs,” stated the Defense Minister.

“What would you have us do against the power of nations like Surdra and Boltor?” asked the Navy Chief. “What do you expect them to do when they discover we used a nuclear weapon? What do you expect Surdra to do if we invade? They have been building relations with Ragaan for decades. We are a second-rate power facing the most technologically advanced societies in the world.”

“Precisely the kind of negativism that we had to overcome during the Liberation decades ago. Where we would we be now if we had listened then to defeatist drones like you?” barked the Defense Minister. “I’ll tell you what we are going to do to the weak-willed dogs that call themselves the leaders of countries,” he continued. “We will take back what is rightfully ours. If the Kingdom of Surdra or anyone else for that matter tries to interfere we will wipe them from our seas and from the skies!” He finished the statement by slapping the meaty palm of his hand on the polished conference table, stunning the assembled ministers.

“I should point out that this course of action will undoubtedly bring us into direct conflict with western forces, particularly Surdra,” said the Navy Chief calmly, “ignoring their technological advantages over our own forces, their forces in the Remus out-number our own.”

“I speak for the Defense Council,” said the Defense Minister coldly. “The action will go forward as I have ordered it!” Nobody present tried to protest. Wahid should have corrected the Defense Minister but he could not bring himself to speak up.

Wahid knew that this would mean the end of his government, and he wanted it stopped. Since such an effort would involve amphibious and air operations, it would fall on the Navy and Air Force Chiefs to make it happen, and both did not want any part of it. Both commanders, who did not want to throw their forces against the strongest military powers in the world, were firmly opposed to the Defense Minister’s decision. Predictably, the Defense Minister was in favor of the expedition. He didn’t care about the preservation of the lives of the men in the armed forces; trained men could be replaced or bought.

Further debate was useless, the decision had already been made. Besides after today they all knew that they had no choice but to carry on. Wahid closed his eyes, thought for a moment, and ordered the expedition. It was another bad choice in a seemingly endless line of bad choices, dating from the very moment he’s decided to run for president.

Adil Family Plantation
Tarang, Southwestern Ragaan
0309 20 February 2021

The Adil family’s plantation had originally been built during the Colonial period. The wide corridors, arched windows, and high ceilings with slowly rotating fans gave the building an air of faded colonial elegance. The Adil family had acquired it shortly after the old colonial powers had left Ragaan. Unlike most they had actually purchased it from the previous owners.

Gajah tried to come back here as much as he could, be preferred it over the capital, it was quiet and he could spend more time with his wife and their three daughters. It was so remote that he did not learn of the nuclear blast until late into the previous evening when one of the servants returned from the nearby town of Tarang. By then it was too late to return to the capital, so Gajah decided that he would return first thing in the morning once the sun was up.

He did not sleep during the night, nor did ne bother to try. He spent most of the night talking to the only member of government he could get ahold of, a mid-level military commander near the capital. So far all he could gather was that both the Capital building and his office hand been destroyed, along with the National Congress and his Vice President. While their deaths weighted heavily on him he knew that he was most likely the only living member of government left and it would be his job to lead the people forward from this disaster.

He was surprised to hear the sounds of approaching helicopters early in the morning. At first he thought it was only one but as the sound grew closer he could make out the sounds of more. Looking out the window from his office he watched as two of the helicopters landed in the front yard of the plantation. At first he thought that one of the nearby military commanders had dispatched troops to guard him, but when he saw the distinctive red berets of the Gutanese airborne troops as they leapt from the rear of the helicopters he knew exactly who was responsible for the attack.

He watched as the Gutanese airborne troops fanned out across the grass and began rushing towards the main house. From inside the first of his bodyguards began fighting with the attackers. Gajah knew it was pointless, he calmly left his office and went to his family. As more gunfire echoed through the house he did his best to calm his family. Together they waited as the sounds of fighting came closer until finally several Gutanese soldiers burst into the room. They were followed by a Gutanese Colonel.

“Be calm,” he announced politely, though with none of the deference you’d expect he would offer to the leader of another country. “This is a precaution to restore order. Please do not resist.”

He then approached Gajah and leaned in close to his ear, “You can cooperate or not. Your choice. If you cooperate no harm will come to your family. Your cooperation will also make you useful to my superiors. I suggest you comply. You will be taken by helicopter to a safe place.”

Gajah gave a brief nod that might be taken as assent. He knew he had no choice.

The Colonel pointed in the direction of a Major who was waiting in the doorway. “He’ll be responsible for you. You’ll be safe with him.”

He then led the Major and Gajah to one of the waiting helicopters.


ODA 1332 Team House
Grand Aquila Hotel
Rumadan, Ragaan
0812 21 February 2021

“Captain Grant, how are you?” King Michael’s voice came over the satellite radio’s speaker.

The line had been patched through to Grant via SATCOM to the team’s safe house, where the team had a good line of sight into Rumadan. “Can you hear me okay?”

“Just fine, sir,” Grant answered.

“So tell me what you see.”

“Yes, sir,” Grant answered. “We’re situated on the roof of the Grand Aquila Hotel, sir, about three hundred feet above the rest of the city down in the valley. We got a good view of the entire city and the government center. Ground Zero is about a mile from our position.”

“The entire government center is gone, the capital building is just a pile of rubble now and our embassy is completely gone. We had an ODB – a B-Team, sir – there. They didn’t make it.” Grant his best to not get choked up, but he failed. Those guys were his comrades and brothers.

“I’m sorry Captain,” the King said, knowing how lame that must have sounded. “They are in our prayers.”

“Thank you, sir.” The he continued, not wishing to linger on the loss of friends. “Most of the city is still intact, there’s still a bunch fires burning in the city. The airport’s okay, which means we could fly relief supplies into there . . . and the Rumadan bay can handle ships.”

“Good. So aside from the government center damage was pretty much limited to other parts of the city?”

“It appears so, sir. It could have been a lot worse. Would have hated to see something like this go off somewhere like Hong Gong or Avalon.”

“Do you have any idea, Captain, who did this thing? Or why?”

“Not really, sir. Somebody didn’t like the Ragaanese.”

“So it appears. Somebody with a bomb. So what about fallout?” the King asked, moving on (he had a list). “Can you give us some clues about where it might go?”

“It was a dirty weapon, sir, a ground burst. It had to have picked up lots dirt and other stuff. That’s the bad news. The good news is that it was a small yield device, otherwise we wouldn’t be talking right now. My weapons sergeant estimates that it had to be under ten kilotons. Also the winds lately have been blowing north this week which is good . . . well good for us,” he amended. “It doesn’t look like we will be getting any rain soon. I’d worry if we were. But north they could have problems. There’s some villages north of us that could get some bad shit, if you pardon me, sir.”

“I’ve heard worse. And it describes the situation only too well.”

The King moved the phone receiver away from his face. “I want to take to someone from NOAA when I finish with the captain. I want to know where this fallout is going,” he said to Minister Hurdle.

“We have Global Hawks up from Javasu, your majesty,” General Martin broke in. “They’ll be monitoring the fallout situation and taking samples. Analysis of these should tell us within twenty-four hours exactly where the weapons were made. And what kind of fallout situation we can expect. We will also send a MOE NEST team to monitor the situation on the ground.”

“Good, that will be something,” the King said, “We have to move fast.” He then resumed his conversation with Grant, “Anything else you can tell me, Captain?”

“No, sir. Not now, sir.”

“Thank you, Captain. Keep up the outstanding work, we haven’t forgotten about you guys. Helps coming.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, your Majesty.”


ODA 1332 Team House
Grand Aquila Hotel
Rumadan, Ragaan
2035 21 February 2021

There was still some daylight fading in the western sky as the first Gutanese planes came in from the south low and fast. The planes had been loaded with 250 kg. incendiary and fragmentation bombs. They struck what remained of the RDF headquarters and the large camp that had been set up to house the soldiers brought in to help with relief operations.

Behind them came a wave of transports carrying thousands of elite Gutanese paratroops. Most of them were dropped over the Ramadan-Markka International airport. The rest were dropped in various parts of the city. Some were even dropped over what had once been the Government center. Fighting erupted across the city as the paratroops moved to secure the key points around the city.
The second wave of Gutanese fighters came in much like the first and targeted what remained of the RDF in the city. Two fighters had a special target however. They had been instructed to bomb one of the colonial-era hotels where it was reported foreign military forces were stationed. The two planes dropped their bombs which landed squarely on the hundred year old hotel. Circling above, both pilots watched as flames consumed the hotel and several of the surrounding buildings.

Fighting continued throughout the night but by morning Rumadan was almost entirely controlled by Gutanese forces, who quickly began flying in more forces to reinforce the city. The invasion had begun.

[Surdra]

Blackhall Palace
Avalon, Surdra
1602(0002 22) 21 February 2021

It four hours later when King Michael learned of the Gutanese attack.

The King was in his office reading that lasts weather report from the NOAA when one of his female aides entered his office and approached the King. “Your Majesty,” she announced softly, “I think you need to look at a report we’ve just taken off the SBC World Service.” She pointed a remote at a TV screen, and an attractive blonde newscaster appeared:

“Shortly ago,” she announced, “Gutanese Defense Minister Bungei appeared on all Gutanese national networks to make a startling announcement with reference to the even more startling nuclear explosion in North Gutan three days ago.” The Defense Minister appeared onscreen reading from a script. “According to General Bungei,” she went on, “the Gutanese Armed Forces have begun to deploy military forces into North Gutan for humanitarian relief and to counter extremist elements with in North Gutan. The General claimed, and I quote, “the perpetrators of Friday’s heinous attack were separatist fanatics whose aim was to destroy the peaceful efforts of North Gutan’s provincial government to peacefully rejoin the Republic of Gutan. These separatists were supported and backed by certain western forces. We will provide conclusive evidence of his separatist conspiracy shortly. In the meantime, in order to maintain peace and order within North Gutan we have moved North Gutanese President Gajah Adil to a secure location until such a time it is safe for Mr. Adil to resume control over North Gutan’s internal affairs.”

“These fanatics pose imminent danger to the nation,” the General concluded. “The Army will, as always. Protect the nation from all enemies – internal or foreign.”

“General Bungei has left more questions unanswered than he has answered,” the SBC announcer concluded. “First, how did they come to acquire a nuclear weapon, and from whom. Second, why did these separatists chose to target North Gutan rather than Gutan itself? And third, how did Gutan learn of this plot when no other country has yet to present an explanation for the blast?”

“So far, there are no good answers to these questions. We hope to have more answers soon. This is Linda Dawes reporting from Port Arthur.”

The aide clicked off the screen. The King dismissed her with a wave of his hand and leaned back in his large leather chair. He hated being right.


Hill 308
Outside Rumadan, Ragaan
0647 22 February 2021

It had been a long night for Captain Grant in the rest of ODA 1332. They had barely escaped the hotel before it came burning down around them. Only his decision to move to another location had saved them. They had been safely deep inside the hotel packing their gear when the bombs hit the upper floors. They had lost most of their heavy equipment, including their large satellite radios, and his communications sergeant had a compound fracture in his forearm, but aside from some scrapes and burns they got away unhurt.

On their way out of the city they ran into a company of JRSF troops led by Captain Kumar. They had worked with the Captain and his troops for most of their time in Ragaan and Grant had become good friends with him.

Kumar had wanted to fight, Grant couldn’t blame him, but he knew that it would have been pointless. He took some convincing by Grant made Kumar see reason, but in the end, Kumar saw reason. They were more useful getting to safety and getting the word out. Revenge would come later.

Now the twelve Surdrans and nearly sixty JRSF soldiers were camped out on one of the many mountain tops surrounding the capital. Nearly 3,000 feet above the valley floor below Grant had an awesome view of the entire city. During the night they had watched most of the fighting and counted the number of transport planes that landed in the airport throughout the morning.

Grant nearly shouted for joy when they finally managed to raise someone on the only radio they managed to take with them. At least they weren’t alone in the world.


Blackhall Palace
Avalon, Surdra
0700(1500) 22 February 2021

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff stood as the King entered the Situation Room, along with the rest of the assembled National Security Council. He had a folder containing what he considered a very exciting show-and-tell. General Martin showed signs of wear and tear. He hadn’t gotten a great deal of sleep in the past forty-eight hours.

“Tell me what we know,” the King asked the assembled members of his cabinet. He needed some good news.

General Martin nodded to one of his aides, a Colonel, to turn on a large plasma screen opposite from the King. Bringing the first image (a map of Ragaan) the Colonel began, “At approximately 1130 hours, local time, Friday, a low yield nuclear device was detonated in the Ragaanese capital of Rumadan. The blast managed to wipe out both the Ragaanese National Congress, whose members were meeting to vote on a motion to formally seek independence from Gutan, and the office of the president. We believe the Vice president was also killed.”

“We believe that sometime around 0300 hours local time on Saturday,” the Colonel continued advancing the slides, “Gutanese airborne forces conducted a raid here,” he pointed to a spot in southwest Ragaan, “The Adil family’s plantation and managed to capture President Adil and his family. We don’t currently know where they are holding the President or his family.”

“Then yesterday at approximately 2000 hours Gutanese airborne forces staged a large-scale airborne assault of Rumadan with what we estimate was a reinforced division-sized force. At the same time the Gutanese Army crossed the Gutan straight the leading elements of what looks like three divisions; one armored and two infantry divisions. We’ve also have SIGINT hits with several more major combat formations that might soon be moving to assist the invasion.”

“The Gutanese Navy has also sortied all of their main warships, including the aircraft carrier KRG Pahlawan, and their entire submarine force. We also intercepted orders to their anti-ship costal batteries order them to full alert. And the Gutanese Air Force has started conducting combat air patrols between Gutan and Madalu.”

Moving to the next slide the Colonel continued his briefing, “The RDF has taken a real beating during these first 24 hours. Their entire higher command and control has been wiped out. They’re trying to coordinate a defense on the regimental level but SIGLINT traffic shows they are having a hard time doing this. The RADF was caught on the ground, what planes weren’t destroyed on the ground were either unable to take off or were destroyed in the air. In short sir, they’ve lost the conventional war.”

“And our forces,” the King asked calmly.

“We had some transport planes on the ground when the capital got hit,” General Martin answered. “We don’t know the status of the crews but we know they blew their planes. We also had an Air Force Tactical Air Control party on the ground to help direct air traffic, their commanding officer managed to get a message off that they had destroyed all of their equipment and we going to surrender. We don’t know their current status.”

“What about the Special Forces team we had, the Captain I spoke to?” The King asked leaning forward. He didn’t know the Captain before his call the other day but he was still interested to know if the man was safe.

“At first we feared that the whole A-team had been taken out, sir. The hotel they were using as their safe house took a direct hit, there isn’t much left. However, we received radio contact from them just a few hours ago. They managed to escape the hotel with only minor injuries and managed to link up with their JRSF counterparts before evacuating from the capital. They are currently in the mountains above the city feeding our intelligence guys real-time intel on what’s going on in the city.”

King Michael sighed in relief, he was glad to hear that the Captain had made it out of the city. He made a mental note to give the Captain a medal when all of this was over.

“What about our forces outside Ragaan?”

“Well your Majesty, the carrier Surdra and her battle group and MEU (SOC) are currently holding just south of the western tip of Madalu. CINCREM halted her once the Gutanese attack started. We also have halted all aid flights into Ragaan.”

“What about the nuke?”

“We’ve made some real progress there, sir,” Martin answered passing the folder to the King, who slide it to his side. He was famously uninterested in military briefing materials.

“The first thing we have,” Martin began, “is an early analysis of the atmospheric particles the Global Hawks picked up.” The King gave him the go-head nod. “The core was mined in Novoskakovskoye, sir. It was a USSCR-made weapon, probably built fifty years ago, and it had a yield of about 5 kilotons. About the same as our old demo nukes. A nasty piece of work, but not big – as nuclear weapons go; a nuke, not a thermonuke.”

“I want Foreign Affairs on that,” the King stated flatly. “I want everything they have on these weapons. The number of devices they sold to Gutan, the types, and if they gave those bastards anything else we need to worry about. Besides this is good ammo against their new government.”

“Yes, your majesty,” his Foreign Minister replied.

“Alright, what are our options?”

“Well our diplomatic options are rather limited,” the Foreign Minister answered. “We’ve never had much influence with the Gutanese. The rest of LUSS will no doubt support any sanctions we put forth but I it will take time before it has any real effect. Besides from what I know of their government, they really don’t care what happens to their people, so I wouldn’t call sanctions an effective course of action.”

“We’re limited militarily too sir,” General Martin replied. “We don’t have enough in the area currently to conduct major combat operations against Gutan. We could start limited bombing with the 52’s and Stealth’s out of Javasu, but we were preparing for humanitarian operations, not major combat.”

“How much time would you need General to gather enough forces to do so?”

“Two weeks at least. We got enough in Madalu to get started but we will need to bring in more from the territories to reinforce them. Thirty days to ship in the heavy equipment.”

“Very well,” The King paused for a moment before turning to his Foreign Minister, “Deliver this to the Gutanese, they have 48 hours to halt all offensive actions and another 48 hours to return to Gutan. Meanwhile draft up sanctions and present it to LUSS. At the same time get the Security Council voting on a resolution giving us backing to use military force. Share everything we know with them. Gutan just committed the largest terrorist attack in human history, we are not about to just turn the other cheek.”

“General.” King Michael turned to General Martin, “Tell CINCREM to start preparing everything she has at the disposal and get the other area commanders moving to support her. In four days, if Gutan doesn’t back down, we are to begin offensive operations against Gutan.”

“Yes sir,” General Martin acknowledged, “I would recommend that we upgrade everyone to DEFCON 3 and DEFCON 2 for everything in the Remus.”

“Go ahead, make it happen.”

[Conora]

CDFHQ

HERO CITY OF VALOUR

0700 23 FEB 2021



     General Woods had just taken his seat in the dull concrete briefing room, his aid, a young lieutenant, handing him his briefing papers and then rushed to the far side of the room to pull down the aged projection screen and set up a projector on the end of the long wooden table. The General knew he would have to keep his briefing short as the Chairman hated early morning meetings, regardless of how important the reason behind it. Meanwhile outside of the complex three nondescript black sedans outfitted with identical blue LED emergency lights in the grill, front, and rear windshield came to a short stop at the front gate. Two Military Order soldiers in full combat kit with slung AK-101’s approached the driver and passenger windows simultaneously, while unseen a CDF Marksmen focused in around the vehicles. The driver sharply presented three security passes and a vehicle pass to the MO, who upon seeing the Chairman’s security pass quickly raced back into the gate building to scan and gain clearance to allow the convoy in. In just over a minute the large steal vehicle breaks lowered down to give passage to the motorcade.

     As General Woods looked over his notes a fifth time, three short knocks came on the briefing room’s door; the Chairman was quickly approaching. He cued to his aide to turn the projector on and have everything ready to go. The door to the room was opened by the MO corporal on guard outside it and in swooped the Chairman and his five security men. The Chairman took a seat across from the General and without a word needed to be said the General started, “Sir, as reported on SBC two days ago and confirmed by various sources a small yield nuclear device was detonated in Rumadan, Ragaan on one-nine February at 1126 hours. Furthermore signals intelligence shows that the Gutanese humanitarian mission” the general used exaggerated air quotes on the word humanitarian, “is nothing short of a coordinated invasion.” “Are you suggesting they detonated the nuke?” The Chairman asked. “Well sir, we can’t say anything for sure, but it certainly is convenient.” The Chairman removed his glasses and stroked his chin, being hit with the heavy reality of the situation. General Woods continued, “Also our 2nd fleet noticed movement among the Surdran forces, suggesting they may be pondering military action, I recommend we open dialogue with Surdra and offer support should diplomatic channels fail. This could allow us to develop new allies and allow historic hostilities to be buried. As well as giving the Conoran Defence Forces a positive new image, take pressure off their actions domestically.” The Chairman nodded in agreement, “I’ll get on the Foreign Ministry to start discussions with Surdra, and I want you to start organizing the CDF support elements to possibly deploy."
_____________________________________________________________________________________


DIPLOMATIC WIRE – AUTHORIZED SURDRAN EYES ONLY

SECRET – NOT FOR PRESS RELEASE

SENT: 13:41 23 FEB 2021

FROM: Ambassador James Adler

TO: Minister Walker, Foreign Affairs


Minister Walker,



     The Republic of the Unified People of Conora wishes to offer its support to the Kingdom of Surdra in its pursuit of global peace and stability. The recent events in Ragaan, and subsequent action by Gutan trouble the Conoran people, as they should trouble peace loving citizens the world over. Therefore it is in this vain that Conora wishes to announce its support of the Kingdom of Surdra in any diplomatic action necessary to take, as well as any possible military action; if deemed appropriate in the name of peace, democracy, and stability. The people of the world cannot afford to stand by in the face of the use of WMDs or the occupation of a sovereign state. Effective immediately, the bases, ports, and resources of the Conoran Defence Forces are available for use by the armed forces of Surdra for the purpose of containing the unfolding situation in Ragaan.



With regards,



Ambassator Adler

[Control]

CGFHQ
Yotrovask
0700 February 23rd 2021

“Dobraye ootra, comrades,” Gen. Norin Makarovich said, striding through the press room doors. The Minister of the Sword stepped up to the podium. “Today is a grand day for Controlitia. Our military is offered a chance to show itself as something more than a mere puppet of the nation that trained us. In the incompetence of Ragaan, we can prove ourselves. Our boys in uniform can finally become men, and they will be man enough to make the whole world shudder!”
The Kantran-only members of the press clapped. One, a veteran of the Reunification, let out a “hoo-rah!”
“Details of the operation are, of course, classified at this time, but we are mobilizing, and Gutan will pay for their cowardly nuclear attack. More details will become available as operations proceed.” Makarovich scribbled a note to his press secretary, admonishing him to feed Northen papers while blocking Southern reporters in the national press briefing. Once finished, the aged general looked up and continued spouting his death and glory rhetoric. The Kantran reporters, though used to Makarovich’s dramatics, began to grow more and more excited. They would be wholly on the Minister’s side by the 1000 national brief.

---

Utm Plaza
Port Mary
0700 February 23rd 2021

Alec Fritchey, Controlitian Minister of the Borders, surveyed the crowd gathered to hear his take on the Gutan situation. They were a steady crowd: farmers here to be reassured that they’d still be taking in the crops tomorrow, commercial fishermen wanting to make sure their boats wouldn’t be pressed into service, and dockworkers worried about those empty PT boats in the Mothball Fleet. Fritchey sighed. He laid his forehead in his hand as he looked down at the communique he had received from his Surdran counterpart. He was here to disappoint them.

---

0830

Fritchey stepped away from the podium, the rising tide of excited murmurs only causing his shoulders to fall farther towards his sinking stomach. He meant everything he said about supporting Surdra in expanding liberty to Ragaan, about the need to take the moral side even if no one else will, but nothing in the philosophies he had repeated since birth banished the ghostly images of the soldiers that would soon fall. His countrymen were happy. They would probably remain home to gather wheat and fish, but so many young men would be called to go die in a foreign land for his ideals. Well, there was a reason he never joined the military.

---

Tchaikovsky Square
Sargobad
0900 February 23rd 2021

Tarkut Tovam’s fist slammed into the podium emblazoned with the Seal of the Minister of the States. “Such an offensive move cannot be unanswered! Those otkram will not stop! They bomb Ragaan, then they bomb New Ecopia, then you wake up to a mushroom cloud in your backyard! We must strike back before we are struck!”
Tyrant Yartum turned away from his office’s window, regretting the politics that forced him to allow a hothead xenophobe to continue to lead a Ministry. In this case, though, he might prove useful.
“Gregorovitch, how are the other regional Tyr’s doing?”
“Well, sir,” said Yartum’s chief of staff. “Makarovich whipped up his fellow Kantrans, and the Southern mayors have all agreed to support Fritchey.”
“Good. What are we going to be able to send to help?”
“Not much, sir. General Makarovich’s staff has been in contact with Surdra’s Command. They figured we should offer to help the country that essentially trained and equipped our military.”
Yartum looked up sharply. “They contacted Surdra without any input from the capital?”
Gregorovitch nodded.
“Bah. Pick one of them and arrest him for insubordination. Now, what did the Surdrans say?”
“That we couldn’t help much.” Gregorovitch looked down at his clipboard. “We have two transport ships, and Gutan is a long way from here. The Surdrans offered to allow us to refuel our planes at their airbases in Vanatu, Sidland, and then to be based out of Madalu.”
“Hmph. Good thing our pilots need some flight hours. What about the navy?”
Gregorovitch shrugged. “Surdran HQ said they aren’t planning much of a naval campaign, but the ships do have time to get there.”
“I didn’t haggle for that littoral combat ship to let it sit in the Mothball Fleet. Tell Makarovitch to get our ships out there. Same for whatever ground troops we can get there.”
“Yes, sir,” said Gregorovitch.
“That will be all.” The Tyrant turned back to the window. “God, this is going to be an awkward war.”

[Surdra]

KSS King Mountain
50 nmi South of Port Arthur, Madalu
1000 24 February 2021

Vice Admiral Kyle Connelly was always happiest when he was at sea. His current post as commander of the Surdran Seventh Fleet for the Surdran Remus Fleet had kept him out at sea for months now. He was in charge of the Navy’s ships and aircraft in a place geographically as far as you could the miserable cold and politics of Avalon. Even better, he was a real fleet commander, in charge of real personnel, ships, and aircraft doing real missions in an area with great tensions. Best of all, his ships and aircraft were the newest and best in the fleet.

The ship he was aboard, the King Mountain (LCC-22), was a purpose-built command ship, based upon the design of the Sheagrove (LPD-17) amphibious transport dock. Even though it was built as a political concession to keep several shipyards busy following the completion of the Sheagrove-class of ships, the King Mountain was one of the finest fleet flagships ever built. Comfortable and fast, it was a marvelous balance of the complex technologies that made up specialized warships. Other wonderful ships were part of the Seventh Fleet, which Connelly would soon be using against Gutan.

Just a few miles to the north was the dark grey silhouette of the carrier KSS Surdra (CVN-71), another ship with a proud history. One of the second generation ships of the venerable King Andrew class of aircraft carriers. She carried an air wing comprised of a strike fighter squadron of 14 F-35C Lightning IIs, two strike fighter Squadrons with 14 F/A-18E/F Super Hornets, two strike fighter squadrons of 12 F/A-18E Hornets (one of these was a Surdran Marine Corps fighter attack squadron), one electronic warfare squadron of 6 EA-18G Growlers, one carrier airborne early warning squadron of 6 E-2D Hawkeyes, a detachment of 2 C-2 Greyhounds, one helicopter antisubmarine squadron of 6 SH-60F Seahawks, one helicopter maritime strike squadron of 4 MH-60R Seahawks, and several other carrier-borne UAVs. Though Surdra was only one ship carrying a few dozen aircraft, she was a formidable weapon in the current crisis. The aircraft launched from her deck could maneuver anywhere within a few hundred miles and hit anything that he cared to target.

Connelly also had an MEU(SOC) aboard three ships of his amphibious ready group (ARG), as well a dozen highly capable escort vessels. Most of these were Aegis-capable cruisers and destroyers for land attack and escort to protect the carrier and underway replenishment train ships, while two of them were Triumph-class Nuclear-powered Guided-missile battleships. Finally, he had several nuclear submarines prowling about, just in case the Gutanese decided to get aggressive with their fleet of diesel boats.

A few allied and aligned nation ships were expected to rotate in what he was calling Task Force 58, but by and large the ships he was gathering now was a Surdran force, protecting Surdran interests and values. Not that Connelly didn’t enjoy working with coalition nations. Over the years he had become known as a master of naval diplomacy. But like any other commander, he felt more comfortable with a force whose personnel and capabilities he knew intimately, whose commanders spoke his language with no need to resort to translators, and whose ships and men did what he told them to do without him needing to say “please” first.

Connelly took one last drag of his cigar as he watched as the tiny shape of one of Surdra’s fighters launched off the deck and climbed into the sky before flicking the cigar over the side of the ship and entering the interior of King Mountain. He knew his mission was essential, even before the teleconferences with the Commander of the Remus Fleet, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the King reminding him how important it was. Here on the King Mountain and in his Tactical Flag Command Center (TFCC), with computerized equipment around him constantly monitoring every creature and machine larger than a gnat within the theater of operations, Connelly was exactly where he wanted to be.

Hemming Air Force Base
Western Madalu
1347 24 February 2021

The normally quiet Hemming Air Force Base had become one of the busiest air ports in the world over night. For most of the past 20 years Hemming had sat largely unused, home only to a single flight of F-16s, a handful of patrol planes, and a reserve unit that on the weekends maintained the three runways and empty hangers. Now, only 48 hours after King Michael’s ultimatum to Gutan was made public, the airbase was in the middle receiving the first wave of planes arriving from around the world. Dozens of aircraft from small F-16 fighters to large E-3 AWACS had already arrived and were scattered around the base's two large flightlines and hangers. And still more planes and their crews were arriving.

Captain Kevin “Mustang” Duff gracefully set his F-22 down on Hemming’s main runway along with the seven other planes from his squadron that had flown with him from their base in Southern Columbia, the other ten would be arriving within the next few days. They had flown almost non-stop, only landing once in Alyeska so they could rest before continuing on. Duff had lost count of the number of in-flight refuelings they had done, but if he never saw the rear end of a KC-135 again he would die a happy man.

He was grateful when he finally parked his plane and climbed out of the cockpit and was finally able to stretch his legs. He was even more grateful when a cute blonde civilian military employee waked up to him with a tray of hot coffee and donuts. He wasn’t so tired and exhausted he would have tried to get her number but now, he just quickly downed the coffee and donut and relieved himself on the grass strip between the flightline and runway. It wasn’t long before he was joined by the other members of his squadron.

On the other side of the runways the lead element of the 13th Airborne division had already arrived and were setting up camp. Duff guessed that a least a battalion was already there and the arrival of a C-17 signaled that even more troops were arriving at the once quiet airbase.

[Surdra]

Fort Harmon
Office of the Commander, Remus Command
Port Arthur, Madalu
0713 25 February 2021

“Well, Dan, I think we understand what is needed here. I’ll get the staff working on it,” General Rebecca Shepard said into her video teleconferencing terminal. Her satellite-assisted meeting with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had gone as expected, and official orders from the National Command Authorities would be on their way via secure data-link from Avalon in a matter of minutes. Now she could begin what she had privately started three days earlier when Gutan invaded. Officially the Gutanese had another 24 hours before the deadline, but all sides knew Gutan wasn’t going to back down. Already, she had begun to concentrate her forces in preparation for offensive operations against Gutan.

Shutting down the terminal, she pulled out a yellow legal pad and mechanical pencil from her desk, and began to sketch an outline of the plan for the liberation of Ragaan. She knew using pencil and paper was so outdated it was laughable, but she also knew that she did her best thinking when she wrote the old-fashioned way. She smiled as she began, knowing her staff would probably take twice as long to argue over what she was about to write as she would to do so. That was after they’d laughed themselves sick over her method of encoding data. Well, she thought, this is how we did it back in the good old days before voice-recognition word processors. And this works in any circumstance, even in a total power outage. I’d like to see them say that about their data-tablets and computers. Thirty minutes later, she was finished.

What had her really worried was that unfortunately the Gutan government already had shown it was more than willing to use nuclear weapons. She was more than a little concerned about whether her ABM assets and the battle staff at KSSPACECOM were ready to play for all the marbles. The Gutanese had some serious firepower. Not modified SCUDs fired like shotgun shells, but IRBMs with nuclear warheads. She found herself wondering if Surdran magic would be better than Gutanese magic.


Hemming Air Force Base
Western Madalu
1615 26 February 2021

Lieutenant Adam Edwards hated flying. Flying very long distances was hard work. You lose lots of water. You lose lots of electrolytes. You lose lots of time zones. You came out of the silver tube a dehydrated zombie, your body clueless about what the hell time it is.

You need downtime – rest, rehydration.

Rangers are mean, and they are tough. One big reason why they are trained to be in top physical condition is to give them the ability to get on an aircraft in battle gear and then get off it eighteen hours later and swarm out fighting. These aircraft are not equipped with cute stewardesses, in-flight movies, or seats you’d want to sit in for more than ten minutes.

That they can do this is a good thing. But they are still human. They’d rather not. And if they can, they’ll take a day or two off after a world-spanning flight to get their bodies back in synch. That’s exactly they did when they arrived at Hemming AFB.

After securing their weapons and equipment the Rangers were led to where the 13th Airborne had already set up tents and cots. Most of Edward’s platoon were out as soon as their heads hit the cots, Lieutenant Edwards wasn’t far behind them.


Presidential Palace
Kotanan, Gutan
0753 27 February 2021

Sukarno Wahid had spent the last hour watching the clock. The Surdran ultimatum ended at seven. His defense minister had insured him that they could deal with any military actions but he doubted him. Even more so when the Gutanese Ambassador to the LUSS delivered the latest Security Council resolution;

The Security Council,

Recognizing the belligerent status of the Government of the Democratic Republic of Gutan,

Alarmed by the nuclear bombing of Rumadan by the military forces of Democratic Republic of Gutan, and the continued attacks on military and civilian targets in Ragaan by land, naval, and air forces of the DRP,

Determining that there exists a breach of international peace and security by the DRG,

Mindful of its responsibilities under the Charter of the League of United Sovereign States for the maintenance of international peace and security,

Affirming the inherent right of individual or collective self-defense, in response to the armed attack by Democratic Republic of Gutan against Ragaan,

Acting in the interest to maintaining peace within Southeast Ajia,

1. Condemns the Democratic Republic of Gutan’s attack on Ragaan;

2. Demands the immediate and unconditional withdrawal of DRG forces from Ragaan;

3. Calls upon Democratic Republic of Gutan and Ragaan to begin immediately intensive negotiations for the resolution of their differences and supports all efforts in this regard, and especially those of the League of United Sovereign States;

4. Orders that the DRG shall be the subject of a LUSS-sanctioned air, ground, and naval quarantine of all products considered supportive to military efforts against Ragaan;

5. Authorizes member nations to use military force to against DRG military forces in or supporting forces in Ragaan;

6. Authorizes that member nations providing forces for the quarantine may use military force consistent with their own security, and the enforcement of the previously mentioned action;

7. Decides to meet again as necessary to consider further steps to compliance with the present resolution.

Wahid knew this was the beginning of the end of his government. There was no chance that Gutan could stand alone against the rest of the world. But his defense minister continued to promise that their military could repel any military actions undertaken by the western powers.

Maybe he did actually believe the general, or maybe it was just him being a coward and looking for a way out of this mess, but Wahid decided to believe that it was possible.


Central Airfield
Javasu, Surdran Kashian Ocean Territory
2132 (2332) 26 February 2021

Twelve B-2 Spirits lifted off from the main runway of Javasu’s largest air field, topped off their tanks from a pair Reservists KC-135 tankers, and headed northeast. They formed up into two flights, separated by a hundred miles between them. The flight to Gutan was peaceful, the scattered clouds allowed the almost full moon to illuminate the ocean below. This was perfect weather for how the modern Surdran Air Force preferred to fight, at night, when optically aimed AAA batteries were largely useless.

Tonight’s mission would be the first step in turning Kotanan into a darkened, isolated city. Kotanan was of course the most heavily defended area in Gutan; with thousands of anti-aircraft guns scattered around the city and rings of surface-to-air missiles in fixed sites guarding against air attack. Most of the weapons were nearly 50 years old, with a handful of modern systems mixed in. It is often said that countries prepare to fight the last war. But in the case of Kotanan, the war they planned to fight was three wars back.

Shortly after three in the morning, the main force arrived over Kotanan. The lieutenant colonel flying the lead B-2 looked with satisfaction out his window at the city stretched out before him. The city lights were still on, giving him a perfect visual reference for his targets. He, along the other five bombers, were flying serenely over Kotanan, with not a shot flying up at them. His main target was the air defense command center at Narogong Air Force Base on the southern side of Kotanan. His secondary target was the main fuel storage farm for Narogong’s fighters.

At the release point, the bomber dropped two GBU-57B Massive Ordnance Penetrator bombs. As soon as the bombs were away and the bomb-bay doors had closed the bomber banked away and headed south, away from the city. The two GBU-57B MOPs with their 5,300 pound warheads dropped accurately and hit the two targets with two massive explosions followed a second later by a massive fireball after the jet fuel ignited.

Ten seconds after his bombs hit, he saw the flash off to his right of more bombs taking out three of the bridges spanning Kotanan’s western (and largest) river. Seconds later, the Gutanese Defense Ministry went up. Other targets up as well. The city’s main source of power, a nuclear power station built by the USSCR in the 70’s, took several bombs into the foundation of thee turbine room, throwing the delicate mechanisms out of alignment, tearing them apart like lunatic pinwheels from hell.

As explosions rocked the city, the anti-aircraft guns scattered around the city began firing wildly into the sky. In seconds hundreds of thousands rounds had been fired into the sky in an impressive, but rather pointless display of firepower. Not only were most of the bombers out of the area but none of the guns could reach the altitude that bombers were flying at. To add to the waste, several SAM battery commanders fired several of their missiles blindly into the sky, hoping that the missiles might detect the attacking bombers with their own radars.

In all, ten targets in the Kotanan area went up in a matter of just three minutes. Meanwhile, other B-2s took out five major bridges in Gutan along with three major command centers; including the hardened divisional paratroop headquarters in Rumadan. All of the bombers’ primary targets had been hit and destroyed, and only one of the secondary targets (a bridge) would require additional sorties to totally destroy. None the bombers nor their crew had taken any damage and as soon as they landed back in Javasu shorty after sunrise the air crew were already preparing them for their next missions later that night.

This was the beginning of Operation Tropic Phantom, the Surdran air campaign designed to destroy the Gutanese warfighting capability.

[Surdra]

KSS Vanguard
Salam Sea, 24 miles off the Gutan coast
0223 27 February 2021

“Captain, please come to communications,” the announcing system squawked. Vanguard’s commanding officer instinctively looked up at the speaker before setting down his cup of tea on the map table. He then went aft of the CIC to the always-locked communications room.

“It’s started Captain.” The communications officer handed him a yellow message form, which the CO read in the dim lights.

Z1820Z26FEBRUARY
FR: COM7FLT
TO: ALL 7FLT SHIPS
TOP SECRET
1. EXECUTE UNRESTRICTED AIR AND SEA WARFARE AGAINST GUTANESE MILITARY FORCES.
2. EXECUTE UNRESTRICTED AIR AND SEA WARFARE AGAINST GUTANESE CIVILIAN MERCHANT VESSELS SUPPORTING GUTANESE MILITARY FORCES.
3. EXCUTE GOLF TAC 7
4. GOOD HUNTING. COM7FLT SENDS.

The CO looked it over a moment before tucking the message into his pocket, returned to the CIC, and without a word picked up the microphone for the ship-wide address system.

“This is the Captain speaking. Listen up ladies and gentlemen: It’s official. We are now in a shooting war. No more drills, gentlemen. If you hear the alarm from now on, it means there’s a Bad Guy out there, and they have live weapons too. I trust in each one of you to do your duties to the upmost. That is all.”

Vanguard’s commanding officer then switched over to the channel to his sonar room, “Sonar, Conn. You still tracking the four contacts to the southwest?”

“Affirmative Captain, contacts Sierra 2 through Sierra 5 are still holding their heading on zero-zero-nine, speed ten knots. The lead frigate has been zig-zagging at regular intervals.” The contacts Vanguard was currently tracking was a Fatahillah-class frigate leading two mid-sized container ships followed by a Sibarau-class coastal patrol ship up the coast towards Ragaan, no doubt to deliver supplies to the invasion force.

“Weps! Prepare a firing solution. Target sonar contacts Sierra two, three, and Sierra four. Ready four ADCAPs. One per, with the fourth ready to reengage and targets needed.”

“Aye, Aye! Preparing a firing solution for sonar contacts Sierra two, three, and four. Readying one ADCAPs per target, with fourth ready to reengage as needed.”

Things began to accelerate from there. Sonar tracking data was fed into the guidance computer, which then fed the data into the four Mk 48 ADCAP torpedoes. The CO then ordered “Firing Point Procedures" in the Control Room, which was the final step before launching the torpedoes. Once all the ADCAPs were ready, the CO ordered "Shoot". A command was then sent to an air flask, which immediately dumped air into a piston ram. The air pressure, which was higher than the outer sea pressure, forced the water out of the tube, along with the torpedo itself. Once the torpedo was far enough away from the boat, the pump jet engine started, and the torpedo accelerated towards its target. The first was followed shortly by two more torpedoes.

I took the ADCAPs nearly five minutes to cross the five miles between Vanguard and the Gutanese ships. Seconds before impact the sonar operator on the Fatahillah-class frigate detected the incoming torpedoes and the ship accelerated, throwing up a large frothing white wake in its path, trying desperately to evade its coming death. But it was in vain, the torpedo hit the frigate squarely in the center of the hull, blowing the ship in half under a giant tower of saltwater.

Seconds later the first container ship was hit, followed shortly by the second container ship. One had its back broken, its front half sinking almost immediately while the aft hung with its propellers in the air for several days before finally sinking. The second capsized, spilling its load of containers into the water and onto the crew that was trying to escape the sinking ship. The sole surviving ship, the patrol boat, rushed to rescue as many survivors as it could before rushing for the safety of shallow waters.  

The crew of Vanguard cheered at their first kills not only of the war but of the boat’s career. Her captain made a mental note to have the COB have the crew paint some silhouettes on the sail the next time they were in port. But for now, he ordered that they clear the area, before Gutanese ASW assets came looking for revenge.

Elsewhere other submarines also found good fortune, sinking several Gutanese warships and supply vessels.


Gutanese National Command Bunker
Unknown Location
0654 28 February 2021

The Gutanese Defense Council had ordered all senior cadres to study diligently the lessons of the last Surdran wars. First, the command-and-control centers of the nation could not be caught sitting around the capital waiting to be decapitated. The top-secret dispersal and evacuation plan was worked out in detail, but the details were changed at random intervals, and there were never any practice exercises, to reduce the risk that a high-level defection could fatally compromise the plan.

The first lesson of past wars was that personal underground bunkers were a trap. They could be pinpointed by satellite reconnaissance, targeted, and smashed by precision-guided penetrating bombs. So the President Wahid and the rest of the Defense Council would take refuge in the National Command Bunker built into the vast network of natural caverns that abounded the central Gutan Mountains. Centuries of bat droppings had been cleared out, the caverns were reinforced to increase survivability against precision-guided bombs, and carefully camouflaged remote antennas for Verusean-built spread-spectrum cellular phone systems were installed; but otherwise, preparations were kept to a minimum, and no road construction was permitted in the vicinity of the bunker entrances. Air defenses were also kept to a minimum; only a single S-300 missile site was placed nearby.

Following another round of night time bombings on the capital the leadership evacuation plan was activated. The plan was executed so smoothly that most of the Gutanese government back in the capital never got a hint anything was amiss until virtually the entire senior leadership had vanished from the capital.

Thus it came about that President Wahid and the rest of the Defense Council, save the Defense Minister, found themselves being winched down from rickety old Mi-8 Hip helicopters through the jungle canopy and into tiny clearings, were Detachment 66 guards led them into the National Command Bunker and into individual personal shelters connected by comm links that were difficult to intercept and almost impossible to jam.


Ramikahi Army Airfield
Northeastern Gutan
1625 28 February 2021

President Gajah Adil was confined in a small but comfortable room, which he correctly took to be underground. It was in fact about 100 meters down the hall from the room that served as Defense Minister General Bungei’s comms and C-and-C center for the invasion.

At this moment he was being graced by the presence of General Bungei and the Colonel that had captured him and his family. Bungei was in his fifties, portly and prosperous looking. The Colonel was ten years younger and a good foot taller; and unlike his boss, he was fit. Under other circumstances, Adil might have liked the man, and he might have been proud to have the man serve under him. Both men were dressed in BDU’s.

Adil watched them both closely, searching for signs that might tell him something about what was going on outside his four walls and tiny bathroom.

Meanwhile, his jailers had so far maintained the “official” fiction that he was their guest; and he had so far maintained an “official” blind eye to that. He had tried to preserve an “official” neutrality. He knew that the Gutanese were issuing orders in his name. There was no way he could stop them. He had even allowed himself to be photographed with Bungei. This was a calculated compromise. He hoped it would gain himself and his family time.

On the other hand, there were circumstances that might compel him to sacrifice himself and his family. He was under no illusions. He expected to face one of those circumstances soon.

Now what do they want? He wondered, as General Bungei settled into one of the two easy chairs that had come with the room. Adil took the other. The Colonel remained standing near the doorway.

Like most Ajians, Gutanese do not come quickly to the point. During his time in Surdra, Adil had grafted onto his personality a measure of Surdran impatience. His fears for his family magnified that. As Bungei went through his obligatory circling around and around, Adil churned. Though he endured the general’s courtesies with polite, yet stony-faced replies, he screamed inside: “Get on with it!”

“I have a request to ask of you, Gajah,” Bungei said, at last coming to the point of the visit, his face a mask of friendliness.

“Yes?” Adil replied carefully.

“We’re at a point in our restoration where the people of our country need a word of encouragement from a respected figure . . .”

“. . . Such as myself.”

“Exactly. We would like you to address the nation, especially North Gutan. The people are scared; first the separatists detonate a nuclear bomb and now the western powers move to enslave our nation again. We would like you to reassure the people the people of our just cause and denounce the imperialistic actions of the western powers.” He brought his finger and thumb to a near touch. “We are on the very edge of success, my friend; we are that close.” He gave his hand a little flutter. “But we need someone . . . of your high stature . . . to bring our nation over that edge. A man of the hour is required. You can be that man.”

Adil stared at the other man, his mind churning. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said.

“You will of course have the support of the Defense Council and Military to reassume your duties as Governor of North Gutan.” Adil noticed that the general used Governor rather than President and North Gutan rather than Ragaan. “But we will, of course, require gestures of support on your part. The relationship could be mutually beneficial.”

“And if I find that I can’t help you?” Adil asked, using all his strength of will to keep his voice casual and uncolored by the turmoil he felt. It was clear to him that the invasion was not going well. If it had been, they would not have needed him for this.

It was probably for such an eventuality that they had kept him alive.

How can I use that? he asked himself. How can I turn this to my advantage? . . . Shall I agree to go along with them, and then say what I must say when I’m in front of the cameras? . . . Of course not. They will tape the speech. If I try that, I’ll be dead in seconds . . . No, not before they show me my wife and daughters as they rape and torture them to death.

“I can’t imagine how you could refuse your nation in its time of trial,” Bungei said smoothly. “Yet the example of Rumadan should point toward the consequences of negative choice. And there are other consequences.” He glanced at the Colonel, who produced from a folio case a seven-by-nine photograph and passed it to Adil.

The photo showed his nineteen-year-old daughter, Reni, under fierce, glaring lights, standing naked and terrified against a featureless cinderblock wall, her hands behind her back, certainly bound. Adil had not seen his daughter unclothed since she was a child.

The sight of her that way now seared his soul . . . enraged him.

There were no marks on her . . . as of yet. Their continued absence was clearly a condition of his future cooperation.

Adil stifled the impulse to lash out. It would do no good (his eye had already caught the Colonel’s hand resting casually yet alert on the gun holstered by his side). He also stifled the equally useless verbal abuse he wanted to scream out.

He made his decision.

The bastards had made another mistake. They had tried to push him to submit. Instead, they had pushed him toward resistance. Adil had seen through their pressure (which wasn’t hard to do) . . . leaving Adil with a granite certainty: Reni and Suya and Nuri were dead. And so was he. In hours. Or days. Soon. They would not be allowed to live. Cooperation would only delay that.

With that the case, honor won.

“No,” he said sternly, his voice nearly a whisper. “I can’t join you.”

“Do you want to elaborate on that?” Bungei asked, visibly surprised. The colonel, on the other hand, was staring at Adil with something like respect.

“No,” Adil said, “I don’t think I have anything to add to that.”

“Your choice will have consequences,” Bungei said, the surprise now melting into disappointment; beneath which was anxiety, and swiftly emerging from that was rage. He had been counting on Adil’s weakness. With Adil on their side, the Gutanese could win this without rattling their nuclear sabers. Without him, they would have no other choice but to do that. And there was no telling what would come then.

He decided to delay. It was a weakness, he knew – and so did Adil – but there was no helping it. He must have Adil, for the moment at least, on his side.

“You should think for a time,” he said, cursing the man, and hating it that he needed him. “Think about your daughter. A pretty thing. Look at her.” He gestured at the photograph as he rose from his chair. “We’ll return later.”

Adil picked up the photograph and tore it slowly into small pieces. The pieces fluttered to the floor like moths.

Bungei and the Colonel were out of the door before he had finished destroying it. The general’s face was rigid with fury.

[New Ecopia]

Iciqu Air Force Base
Iciqu, Heniki, New Ecopia
1625 28 February 2021

New Ecopia's Air Force Commander, Henri Kuwaski; New Ecopia's Army Commander, Gregory Arhi; New Ecopia's Special Forces Commander, David Wilson and New Ecopia's Navy Commander Mike van Hussin boarded a VIP New Ecopia Government Bombardier Learjet 45 and immediately departed for Port Arthur to meed up with the Ragaanese and allied Military officials to plan on how to defend and drive the Gutanese Armed Forces out of Ragaanese and how to maintain peace within the region.

During the flight the four commanders discussed their plans on how to successfully and efficiently work together and also communicate with the Ragaanese military when out on the field without having the Gutanese military easily hacking into the communication and decipher the communication which would be disastrous for the allied troops and their plans. The main priory that all the commanders identified that is to jam and shut down all Gutanese communication from within Gutanese and outside to the Gutanese.

Port Arthur Naval Air Station
1940 28 February 2021

Upon arrival at Port Arthur Naval Air Station the four commanders immediately left the aircraft with there luggage to Fort Harmon to greet with the relevant military officials and sort out the plans for the massive operation. Meanwhile Back in New Ecopia President Matthew Woods approved the raise in the nations DEFCON level from 3 to 2 as the situation in Ragan worsens and also the Minster of Defense, Rigel Woodfern orders the nations every military base to stand by for possible immediate deployment to Ragan to provide military support to the Ragaanese Millitary in driving out The Gutanese Hostile Forces out of Ragan.

[Control]

Hemming Air Force Base
Western Madalu
1827 28 February 2021

“Where’s that blasted Admiral Davies with my men?!” General Makarovich barked, stepping off the ramp of the Tupolev Tu-134.
An aide scurried up, clipboard in hand, “They aren’t scheduled to come in until 2200, sir.”
“Hmph. That means they’ll be here at 2200 tomorrow. Blasted squids can’t even make it on time.”
“Sir, you were supposed to fly in two days ago.”
General Makarovich looked at his excellently shined dress shoes and coughed awkwardly. “It was my mother’s half-birthday. Anyway, I’m going to bed.”

---

Port Arthur
Madalu
2311 28 February 2021

Adm. Roger Davies sat down in his chair on the bridge of the littoral combat ship CWS Reliance. “Bloody hell, that was a long cruise.”
“Sir?” MCPO Artur Nazarov said quizzically. “You’ve been on patrol for much longer.”
“Yes, Artur, but I’ve never been on a cruise with dust-biters before. I thought they’d never stop throwing up… God, I’m glad that’s over,” said Adm. Davies, leaning back in his chair.
“One ought to rest after a harrowing experience like that. Sir.”
Adm. Davies chuckled as he stood. “Fine, mom. Do you want to tuck me in?”
“I think your old enough to figure that out on your own.” MCPO Nazarov snapped a quick salute. “Sleep well, sir.”

[Surdra]

13 miles south of Rumadan
Near the Western Coast of Ragaan
2347 28 February 2021

Captain Grant watched as six of Captain Kumar’s JRSF soldiers unpacked supplies from a precision dropped pallet. They had foraged for supplies the best they could but, after six days they were almost out of food and clean water. Not only did the airdrop they just received give them the much needed food and water, but most importantly, it gave them several more tactical radios.

As he watched the JRSF soldiers breakdown the last pallet, Grant’s communications sergeant bumped the radio handset against his shoulder, “Baseplate wants to talk to you Capt.”

“This is Hunter, things are shit Baseplate.” This wasn’t true of course; all things considered things were going well. But to insure that Grant wasn’t using the radio under duress, the Surdran special operations command center in Madalu (callsign Baseplate) had instructed Grant to respond that things were going bad if things were okay and respond that things were good if he was under duress.

“Good to hear Hunter. Now that we fed you, you boys ready to get back into the fight?”

“You better believe it.”

“Good, alright here’s want we need you guys to do . . . “

Thirty minutes later Grant returned to were the rest of the group and Captain Kumar where resting under several trees. Half of the group of nearly seventy was resting while the other half provided security. Grant sat down next to Kumar and motioned to Navarro to join them.

“What’s going on my friend?” Captain Kumar was tired of hiding. Other than directing the bombs onto the Gutanese airborne HQ, they hadn’t done anything other than hide. He longed to start fighting the invaders of his country.

“Seems like the guys back in Madalu finally decided what they want to do with us. They want us to split into two groups. One group is to head west,” Grant rolled out his map and pointed to a spot in central Ragaan, “and link up with a General Hasan. He’s assumed control of government and the RDF and Command needs to setup better communications with him. Unfortunately, the Gutes are pushing hard on his position, so we’re going to have to fight through to him. Kumar, I suggest that you and your men link up with Hasan. Also take some of my men, my comms sergeant needs medical attention and Hasan should be able to provide it.

Grant then pointed to a spot to the south of their current position, “Command also wants to put eyes on this spot. Ain’t much there but they want eyes on it anyways. So I’ll take what’s left down south.”

Captain Kumar nodded in agreement before waving two of his men over. “I agree, but take these two men with you. They know the area.”

“Thank you Kumar. I’ll keep them safe.”

“As will I.”
“Alright, we better get moving.”

Shortly before sunrise the two groups were moving, one to the west and one to the south.


Fort Harmon
Office of the Commander, Remus Command
Port Arthur, Madalu
0957 1 March 2021

Nearly fifty Surdran and coalition military officers gathered in small groups spread out around REMCOM’s main briefing room. The large room looked more like a lecture hall than a conference room with a large projector screen and podium in front of a large U-shaped table surrounded by raised seating against the outer walls. Among the officers in the room, having flown in from Kings Mountain that morning, was Vice Admiral Kyle Connelly. He was busy discussing the current situation with the commander of the Thirteenth Air Force, Lieutenant General Jack “Knife” Perry.

“Jack Knife” as he was known to the aircrews of the 13th AF, earned his wings during the air war with Verusea back in 1993. Flying his F-15C, Perry earned 13 confirmed aerial kills, 5 more claimed kills, and twice had his plane shoot out from underneath him. During his second shoot down, Perry spent twenty-three days stuck behind enemy lines evading Verusean patrols and search parties before finally being rescued by Surdran ground troops.

Much like his naval counterpart, Perry was happy that he was a real commander, in charge of real air crews, fighters, attack craft, and bombers doing real combat missions. This was the height of his career, as far as he was concerned, anything else after this was a step down. The only downside was they didn’t let him fly anymore, and if he was allowed in a fighter at all he had to settle for the back seat of a two-seater.

The two were touching base on the best way to coordinate Perry’s planes with the handful of aircraft Connelly had when an Army Lieutenant entered the room and called out, “Group, AH-Tehn-SHUN!” As everyone in the room snapped to attention General Shepard entered the room along with General Robert C. Richardson, Jr. and followed by a handful of their staff.

“As you were.” Shepard calmly said as she moved to the center seat of the U-shaped table, with Richardson taking the seat to her right. After everyone had taken their seats General Shepard nodded to a marine Colonel to begin the briefing. “Colonel, if you will give us the current status of Gutanese forces in Ragaan.”

“Yes ma’am, as of 0800 hours today we estimate the enemy has moved a total of 7 divisions into Ragaan; one airborne division, two armored divisions, and four infantry divisions; along with several independent regiment sized units. Most of the Gutanese ground forces are currently engaged with the last major pocket of RDF resistance in the central mountain valleys. Rumadan is still being held by a reinforced airborne division but we believe Gutanese High Command is planning on fortifying the area around the Capital with more regiment sized units.”

“Gutan has also moved several air regiments of their front-line Su-27 and EF-2000 fighters into Gutan, we estimate fourteen total. They have also moved in most of their tactical bombers and attack helicopter regiments into Gutan. And at least 6 air defense brigades have been shipped into Ragaan and are operational.”

“At sea most of the Gutanese surface fleet has formed into a large battle group around the carrier KRG Pahlawan, whoever around a dozen destroyers and frigates are currently in the straight between Gutan and Ragaan. Our biggest concern right now is the Gutanese submarine fleet. All 51 of their subs has sortied when the conflict began. We suspect that the majority of them are in or near the Salam Sea, waiting to engage coalition naval forces.”

“What’s the current situation with the Ragaanese Defense Forces?”

“The majority of surviving RDF ground forces have regrouped in the central mountain valleys, under the command of General Hasan. We’ve only been able to make temporary contact with General Hasan. From what information we’ve gathered; the RDF is quickly running out of ammunition and food. We’ve been in contact with a group of joint Surdran/Ragaanese Special Forces since the start of the invasion and we’ve tasked them to send a part of their group to link-up with General Hasan’s forces and establish proper communications with the RDF.”

“Thank you Colonel,” Shepard said from her seat in the center of the room, “Admiral Connelly, if you describe the actions of 7th fleet to date.”

“Gladly, since the 27th submarine forces under my command have begun attacking Gutanese shipping in and around the territorial waters of Gutan. So far they have claimed 14 merchant vessels and 4 warships. P-3s based out of western Madalu sunk a Gutanese submarine in the Salam Sea. Currently all of my surface ships are still gathering south of Port Arthur, I have directed the submarines currently in the Salam sea to move to positions to guard the entrances into the sea. Currently I have ordered them to cease engaging surface ships, and only report their locations, and focus solely on engaging Gutanese Submarines.”

“Thank you Admiral. General Perry, if you’ll brief us on the actions of the 13th Air Force.”

“As you all know, the B-2s out of Javasu have been running nightly raids against Gutan. So far 99% of all targets have been destroyed. We have shifted our focus from the central government’s C3 infrastructure to that of the Gutanese forces in Ragaan. However, it has been reported to me by some of my B-2 crews that Gutan might be trying to integrate low-frequency radar into their anti-aircraft missiles in an effort to shoot down the stealths.”

“I’m also preparing my regular bombers to begin mining operations. The aircraft will drop mines in Gutanese harbors and major waterways. They will also drop them to begin to help seal off the Salam Sea to Gutan. These efforts will be limited however, as none of our fighter craft can reach Ragaan or Gutan without large-scale tanker support. As such, until Connelly’s carriers begin combat missions or we secure an airfield to base fighters out of, all actions by my bombers will be limited.”

“Thank you General,” Shepard said as she stood up, “While normally I do not favor to rush into things; given the current status of the RDF it is clear that we need to get into Ragaan now and relieve the RDF. We, nor the RDF, cannot afford to wait for us to conduct a long air war or wait several months to build up our forces, we must go now.”

She then moved around the table stood next to the podium while the lights were dimmed and a large map of the area was projected on the large screen at the front of the room. “Gentlemen, let me introduce you all to Operation Monsoon. Monsoon will be divided into two phases; the first stage, codename Downspurt, will be to secure the Salam Sea and deny Gutanese Naval and Air Forces access into the sea. The second phase, codename Landfall, will be the amphibious/airborne invasion of eastern Ragaan.”

“Downspurt will begin in one week from today, the 8th of March. The combined coalition naval forces, under the command of Vice Admiral Kyle Connelly, will sail from Port Arthur in three groups. The first group, a combined submarine/frigate screen, will clear the path for the other two groups from any Gutanese submarines. Any submarines that the first group does not destroy, they will drive them into our own submarines guarding the entrances of the Salam Sea. The second group, our main surface combatants and carriers, will depart three hours after the first group and proceed directly into the Salam Sea. Once in the Sea, Gutan will undoubtedly send a large-scale air strike against the fleet. To buy ourselves some breathing room, we will launch cruise missile strikes against all of the Gutanese air fields within range of the Salam Sea. Once we have secured the Salam Sea, the main amphibious landing force will depart Port Arthur. Questions gentlemen?”

[Surdra]

Seeing that no one had any questions General Shepard continued, “With the Salam Sea secured, Operation Landfall will begin. Surdran and Controlitian amphibious assault ships and their escorts will depart Port Arthur and make best possible speed to the Salam Sea. They will rendezvous with the main fleet and then the entire force will move to off the eastern coast.”

Shepard then advanced the slide to a satellite image of a large coastal town. “Our target will be the city of Sungkei. Latest estimates have the local civilian population at around 107,256. We estimate that Gutan has one mechanized infantry regiment with 2,500 personnel in Sungkei with two military police companies and one battery of SA-6 Gainfuls in support. At the Sungkei Air Base Gutan has deployed three Su-27 fighter squadrons and one Su-34 strike fighter squadron. At this time the Gutanese Navy has not moved any surface vessels into the area.”

“Our main targets in Sungkei is the port facilities, Objective Lion, the civilian airport, Objective Tiger, the air base, Objective Panther, and finally the military headquarters, Objective Cougar, located in the city council building. The assault, weather permitting, will begin at 0500 hours with a bombardment of the city by naval and air forces. At 0530 hours, Ranger forces will depart from the Amphibious Assault ship KSS Kingdom and conduct an air assault on Objective Tiger. At the Same time Task Force Dagger, a joint SEAL/MSOR task force, will assault Objective Lion. At 0600 the main landing force will hit the beach just north of Objective Tiger, designated Red Beach, and then will move inland to secure Objectives Lion, Tiger, and Panther. At the same time Controlitian Forces will move to LOA North and setup a blocking position to secure our northern flank and block enemy reinforcements from pushing in from the north. Once those three objectives are secured the landing force will then move south and secure the rest of the city. Once relieved by Marine forces, the Rangers will move to assault Objective Cougar.”

“By 1800 hours the city should be secured and within eight hours the first of the follow on forces should in Ragaan and ready for combat operations. Afterwards I want one brigade landing in Sungkei every eight hours.”

Shutting off the projector Shepard stepped to the very center of the room, “This is our plan gentlemen, study it, understand it. See to your commands, once we begin we are committed.”

[Surdra]

Sungkei, Ragaan
0530 7 March 2021

The city of Sungkei is set in a large coastal valley surrounded by 1200+-meter-high mountains. The two airports are on the northern side of the city, separated the main north/south road that ran the entire length of the coast. The summit of the nearest mountain was nearly five kilometers from the civilian airfield and just over two and a half kilometers from the military airfield. Several of the military airfield’s hangers were actually built right into the lower slopes of the mountain.

If, like Captain Grant’s nine-man ODA, one wanted to view the two airfields and city unobserved, one could do worse than find a relatively inaccessible spot on the mountain, or three in the ODA’s case. There disadvantages, of course. For example, the distances were on the long side: the city center and port were over seven kilometers away. On the other hand, seven-kilometers is no more of a problem than seven hundred meters for modern optics and thermal-imaging equipment. Consideration had been given to moving in closer to get a better view of the two airfields, but that idea was rejected. The risk of discovery, though small, was too great. Grant and his men had come too far already, but more importantly no one within the city must suspect that they would soon be joined by several very nasty guests.

---

Grant and his team arrived on the summit around 0130 on the 6th. It took them about an hour and a half to find their way up the side of the mountain and another hour to find good hide sites to observe the city. The ODA broke off into three groups of three and set about digging their hide sites. They placed these in a roughly L-shaped line, about 200 meters apart for each other.

The idea was to get a clear and exhaustive multi-day view of the workings of the airport, port, and city. One team focused on the air traffic. The second watched the ground traffic in and around the city. And the last group would watch the comings and goings at the civilian airfield and port – entrances, exits, buildings, and the security arraignments around the facilities and on the roofs. After just one day of observation Grant already had a good picture of watch was happening in the city.

Guarding the city against air attack, there were:

• Five batteries of domestically-made 20mm dual-barrel autocannons, with four guns per battery. One battery was placed near the end of each end of the two runways, and the fifth was placed around the port.
  
• At the southern end of the civilian airfield's runway was also placed a Verusean-made SA-6 Gainful SAM battery. The battery had four launcher units, with each launcher holding three ready missiles.

On the ground:

• One motorized rifle regiment from the elite Seterika infantry division, totaling around 2,500 officers and enlisted soldiers. It consists of a regimental headquarters in command of three motorized rifle battalions, each numbering around five hundred personnel and equipped with BMP-1 infantry fighting vehicles, and one Tank Battalion, typically consisting of thirty-one T-72 main battle tanks. These are supported by a battalion of eighteen 122mm towed D-30 howitzers, with additional fire support from the organic mortar battery in each infantry battalion. Additional combat support comes in the form of an air defense missile and artillery company with four SA-9s and four ZSU-23-4 Shilkas, an antitank missile battery with nine BRDM-mounted AT-5 Spandrel launchers, a reconnaissance company mounted on BMPs, BRDMs and motorbikes and an engineer company. Other non-combat formations include a signals company, chemical protection platoon, material support company, maintenance company, and regimental medical point.
• One infantry battalion (three companies plus a headquarters) was guarding the two airfields. Two of these companies, on twelve-hour shifts, guarded the airfields perimeter in platoon-sized units (one platoon was on the roof of the terminal building) from fortified sandbagged trenches. The troops were billeted in a tent camp set up about 300 meters west of the terminal building.
• The airfield garrison was augmented by a detachment of six tanks, positioned in two groups near the terminal building.
• The remaining two battalions were deployed throughout the city at major buildings and intersections. Large troop concentrations were located around the port, train station, city council building, and police stations. At strategic and fortified positions around the city had been placed 12.7mm machine gun positions, as well as lighter positions. It was clear that these were for crowd control.
• There were sniper positions on several buildings throughout the city. These also were for crowd control.
• Two civilian cargo ships had been placed to block the entrance of the port. If needed explosives could be detonated to sink the ships and make the port unusable for several weeks or months.
• Along the runways was a two strings of eight trucks, loaded with concrete blocks, if needed they could be driven onto the runways, and then quickly disabled by removing the ignition rotors. But if more permanent obstacles had to be created, they had attached 20-kilogram demolition charges to the truck beds beneath the concrete.
  
  

During the previous day, ODA 1332 had carefully mapped anti-aircraft positions around the city with their laser designators, which had been linked with their GPS. These coordinates had then been uplinked to REMSOCOM in Port Arthur. They also mapped the coordinates of several other strategic positions around the city and uploaded them.


KSS Tigershark
17 nmi southwest of Port Arthur, Madalu
0700 8 March 2021

The sky was overcast and the rough seas kicked up a light mist that seemed to hover over the surface of the water. Through the mist cut the KSS Tigershark (FFG-45), a Surdran Wendell Owens-class guided-missile frigate. Built in the 80’s, the Tigershark was a proud veteran of the Surdran Navy and the recipient of several awards and honors.

For the Tigershark’s captain, Commander Ian Kenway, the wet weather was a welcome change from the normally hot weather of the southwest Remus Ocean. This was his first command, previously serving as the XO of a Hawke-class guided-missile destroyer, and as far as he was concerned this was the dream. Captaining his own frigate was the whole reason he joined the Navy in the first place. He couldn’t have asked for anything better than the Tigershark; yes there where newer frigates in the fleet and ones with more history, but not by much. The Tigershark was fresh from a yearlong overhaul making her effectively a zero-mile ship. Her Mk 13 missile launcher and 8 cell Mk 41 VLS made a threat to anything in the air or on the water. Her two triple Mark 32 ASW torpedo tubes and two MH-60R Seahawk helicopters made it absolutely deadly to any submarine. Also the irony of the ship’s namesake was not lost on her captain. The Tigershark was named after a second world war Gato-class submarine that was sunk by an enemy destroyer in the closing months of the war.

Around the bridge sailors scanned the horizon (in the remote chance something was not picked up by the ship’s radar) while the helmsman focused on keeping the ship on the right heading. Despite physically being on the bridge, Commander Kenway had let Lieutenant Mary Rhodes, the Officer of the Deck, remain in command of the ship. Part of this job was teaching the younger officers so they could one day take over and besides, he enjoyed watching his crew work without needing his input.

Occasionally scanning the horizon from his comfortable leather chair on the ship’s bridge, Commander Kenway could just make out the dark grey silhouettes of the other frigates of his squadron. They were arrayed in a staggered line abreast, all sailing west towards the Salam Sea. Several miles ahead, below the surface, two large wolfpacks of attack submarines scouted ahead of frigates. Together the two groups, aided by ground based P-3 Orion patrol planes, hammered the ocean with their active sonars searching for any Gutanese submarines. They weren’t actually hoping to find the submarines, rather the goal was to drive the submarines from the area and out of the path of the fleet that was now streaming out of Port Arthur.


KSS Vanguard
Salam Sea, 12 miles west of mouth of the Gutan Straight
0800 9 March 2021

PRIORITY
=================
FROM COMSUBGRUSEVEN
TO KSS VANGUARD

EA RESTRICTED//NO2000//
MSGID/OPERATIONS TASKING/COMSUBGRUSEVEN//

SUBJ/MISSION ASSIGNMENT//

RMKS/1 AREA ASSIGNMENT. OPERATE IN THE SALAM SEA, IN THE AREA OF LAT 7N AND LAT 8N, REMAIN NO CLOSER THAN TEN MILES FROM LAND.
2. MISSION. STRIKE WARFARE.
3. COMMAND. TACICAL CONTROL WILL BE EXERCISED BT CTF 58.
4. EXCUTION.
A. RULES OF ENGAGEMENT. EVADE ANY ATTEMPTED ATTACKS AND BREAK CONTACT. DO NOT ENGAGE.
B. ANY INFO ON GUTANESE IN AREA SHOULD BE COMMUNICATED IMMEDIATELY.
5. COMMAND AND CONTROL.
A. MAINTAIN CONTINUOUS TACTICAL COMMUNICATIONS IN ORDER TO BE READY FOR THE EXECUTION OF A STRIKE AT ANY TIME.
B. ALL REPORTS COMSUBGRUSEVEN//
=================
BT

The KSS Vanguard had lain near the bottom of the Salam Sea near the Gutanese coastline – so near, it was only one hundred seventy-four feet of water – since receiving orders five days before to move south. Vanguard’s Commanding officer was happy to leave, their hunting grounds had dried up after the first night and Gutan had drastically increased their anti-submarine air patrols. The last four days had largely been boring, nothing came within their sonar range and they only had detected a single ground-based radar site over forty miles to the south.

“How long before we shoot?” Vanguard’s XO asked.

“They’ll let us know,” Vanguard’s CO replied.

And as he said that, with the chatter of the message from Port Arthur, they did know.

IMMEDIATE
=================
FROM CTF 58
TO KSS VANGUARD

EA.RESRICTED//N0200//

MSGID/STRIKE WARFARE/CTF58//

SUBJ/LAUNCH INSTRUCTIONS//

RMKS/1. TARGET. MILITARY AIRFIELD LOCATED AT 06-50N. 110-30E. TARGETING DATA TO FOLLOW.
2. NUMBER OF SORITES. TWELVE TOMAHAWK MISSILIES.
3. LAUNCH POINT. WITHING 5 NM OF 07-50N, 115-30E.
4. COORDINATION. CHECK FOR UPDATED INTEL RADIO MESSAGE, THEN LAUNCH ALL SORITES IN THE FIFTEEN (15) MINUTE WINDOW BEGINNING AT 08:00.
5 OTHER. GUTANESE NAVAL TASK FORCE IS BELIEVED TO BE IN THE VICINITY OF THE LAUNCH POINT. GUTANESE BATTLECRIUSER IS UNACCOUNTED FOR. SUSPECT IS LEADING TASK FORCE. EXPECT IMMEDIATE REACTION BY GUTANESE FORCES AFTER MISSILE LAUNCH. CLEAR AREA IMMEDIATELY. LAUNCHING AT THE ORDERED TIME IS PARAMOUNT FOR THE SUCCESS OF THIS COORDINATED STRIKE.//
=================
BT

Vanguard’s commanding officer had to laugh at the last part of the messaged. Naval intelligence strikes again, he thought to himself. “Up scope.” He used a joystick to pan the camera around. A rain-storm overhead drove four-foot waves. He checked his watch, they still had over an hour before they were supposed to launch.

“Looks clear to me,” the XO said, watching the TV display.

“ESM?”

“Just that one search radar to the south, Cap’n,” the technician replied. “There was a small spike to the west for a half second but I got nothing there anymore.”

Dropping the periscope, Vanguard’s Captain inspected the Tomahawk weapons status board on the starboard side of the attack center. His torpedo tubes were loaded with two Mark-48 ADCAPs and two Harpoon missiles. The clock ticked away toward 0800.

“Commence launch sequence.”

Toggle switches were thrown, and weapon status lights blinked red; the captain and the weapons officer inserted their keys in the panel, and turned them; the petty officer on the weapons board turned the firing handle to the left – and the arming process was complete. Forward, in the bow of the submarine, the guidance systems of twelve Tomahawk cruise missiles were fully activated. On-board computers were told where their flight would begin, the path they would take, and where each would end.

“Initiate launch.”

The first Tomahawk broke the surface of the Salam Sea at 0803, followed four seconds later by another missile. On leaving the water, solid-fuel rockets boosted the missiles to an altitude of one thousand feet, where their wings and jet-engine air inlets had deployed. As soon as their jet engines had begun to function, the Tomahawks began a shallow descent that ended thirty feet above the ocean. On-board radar systems scanned ahead to keep the missiles close to the ground, and GPS data kept them on the selected flight path stored in their computer memories.

In this area the Gutanese coast was composed of rocky bluffs that gave way to steep valleys. It was ideal terrain for the missiles to remain undetected, which settled down to a flight path scant feet over a small river at a speed of five hundred knots.

Just under fifthteen minutes after being launched the first of the twelve Tomahawks from Vanguard reached their assigned target, one of three airfields on the northeastern coast of Gutan and home to several squadrons of Gutanese air-superiority and strike fighters. The first missile cut across at a shallow angle, then the blunt nose cover sprang off the airframe, and several hundred small bomblets began to sprinkle over the area. Seventeen Su-27 fighters were on the ground. Ten were being fueled from trucks in the open, the others were armed and ready for the day’s air combat patrols, dispersed in earthen revetments. Each bomblet was the equivalent of a mortar shell. Once the Tomahawk dropped its complete load, it then climbed straight up, stalled, and then crashed back to earth, adding its own fuel load to the destruction. The squadron leader's fighter went first. Two bomblets fell on its wing and the fighter fire balled into the sky.

In two minutes, it was all over. Of the seventeen fighters only one was still intact. Men desperately sprayed fire hoses on the burning wreckages as others rushed to aid their wounded comrades. The same scene was repeated across eastern Gutan and Ragaan as thirteen airbases were also targeted by a total of eighteen submarines. In just a span of ten minutes the Gutanese Air Force’s effective combat strength was cut in half. But more importantly than the destruction of nearly a third of Gutan’s fighter forces, were the deaths of thousands of unreplaceable pilots and ground crews.

[person67]

Gaim Folp was scared. Not the kind of fear when you see danger right in your face and you know when it will hit you and how but the kind of fear when your on edge because you don't know where the danger is, what the danger is and when it was going to kill him. Though for all his fears he was a journalist. He was journalist and he knew a scoop when he saw one. A force of valiant Ragaan army stranded in a valley about to be annihilated by a force of evil bad guys was a scoop. Even as his death was impending probably at least he could still work. Gaim had no clue how he had managed to get here with these fighters of how he was going to get out of this god forsaken valley but he was here with a paycheck to earn and he would.

He had after having tirelessly worked and begged and persuaded finally someone to talk to him. Not the general he was hoping for or either a colonel and the interview was only 90 seconds but he had an interview. He was talking to a captain. The captain of course had no understanding of Vaskod (his language) and Gaim had no understanding of the captain's language. The good news was though is that there was someone who did, a translator back in person his home city.  Of course that would have been totally useless if not for his phone and satellites orbiting the planet. So luckily he had them and while the voice was sketchy and it would be delayed and every other problem know to computers would occur. He could have a conversation through a medium and sell this interview and all the other work he was going to do for a nice profit.

He was escorted into the company headquarters. Which was not so much of a headquarters but a hole dug in the ground with some sheets covered over it. He was offered a seat on the floor but decline using hand signals and decided to stand. 

He turned his phone on and it linked up to the translator. He then got started on his dangerous scoop.

"So then captain, after the recent series of setbacks the RDF has faced do you still believe a final victory is possible?"

The phone worked away and they had to repeat the translation twice for the Gaim to understand but his reply came over.

"Victory is certain, there is no doubt that we shall gain independence, it is not if merely when. They may have us surrounded and they may outnumber us but our skill and dedication makes us worth 20 of their soldiers for every one of ours. We will drive them back and make them pay for what they have done." The captain had said. Though he could not be sure it sounded like the captain was rather sure of this and spoke with a great deal passion.

"Yet, the situation is dire. You are running low on everything. Troops, ammo, food and medical supplies. How do you plan to counter this?"

This time the comm went quicker thankfully. 

The reply was "We will fight on. Our allies will come and aid us the oppressors shall not win. We have more than enough to strive on." The captain replied.

A few seconds later a loud explosion went off. Gaim was while worried pleased actually as well as having not killed him it would also sound great in the interview and would hopefully get it displayed more. He walked off from the captains headquarters having seen his interview would not get further. He would continue to report presuming he did not die. 

[Surdra]

Gutanese National Command Bunker
Unknown Location
1834 9 March 2021

President Wahid looked around the conference room filled with men still in shock at what had happened just ten hours before.

“General Bungei,” President Wahid said. “Can you please explain to us what happened?”

“It would seem that the Surdrans used their submarines to launch a number of cruise missiles at some of our eastern airfields. Their aim was evidently to destroy our airfields. Damage to the airfields was light.”

“Light?” The Air Force Chief snarled. “I lost almost five hundred planes! Not to mention the pilots that were killed in the attack. The Surdrans wiped out our entire eastern air defense sectors! I've had to strip planes from our other zones just to make sure there are no gaps.”

“And it’s your job to insure that your air bases are properly defended,” the Defense Minister shot back heatedly.

“There was no possible way four us to defend against such of attack,” the Navy Chief interjected. “The Surdrans have too many of these submarines and our coasts are too large to defend against such a coordinated surprise attack.”

“Enough!” President Wahid snapped, “It doesn't matter whose fault it is. All of you are to see that this can never happen again. Now General, what about the Surdran fleet that is in the Salam Sea?”

“The Surdrans have three carriers and two of their obsolete battleships and various escorts. They have no more than 270 aircraft. We have located the fleet’s location, thanks largely to their own press. No doubt they fear our military strength and are attempting to intimidate us. I have already ordered the Air Force to prepare a strike against the imperialists. Tomorrow we will smash their fleet with overwhelming force and show to the world that we are the true power in Ajia.”

The Defense Minister couldn't have been more wrong.


KSS King Mountain
Task Force 58, Salam Sea
2005 9 March 2021

The speaker had announced sunset two hours before, Admiral Kyle Connelly was grateful that he actually found some time to take a break and see it. Sunsets at sea far from the polluted city, with a sharp horizon for the sun to slide under, were always something he enjoyed watching. What we was now watching was almost just as good. He stood with his hands on the rail, first looking down at the foam alongside the ship’s hull, then after a brief moment of preparation, up. Born and raised in one of the large coastal cities in Columbia, Connelly hadn't known what the Milky Way was until joining the Navy, and the discovery of the wide, bright belt of stars overhead was always a source of wonder to him. There were the stars he’d learned to navigate by, with sextant and trigonometric tables – now completely replaced by GPS – but they were still beautiful to behold. Arcturus, and Vega, and Altair, all blinking at him with their own colors, their own unique characteristics that made them benchmarks in the night sky.

The hatch behind him opened, and a young sailor dressed in dark blue overalls joined him at the rail. The sailor then produced a pack of cigarettes and proceeded to light one of them.

“Darkened ship. Sailor. I’d dump that cigarette,” Connelly said sharply, more annoyed to have his precious solitude destroyed.

“Sorry, sir.” The butt sailed over the side. The sailor was silent for a few minutes, then looked at Connelly. “You know about the stars, sir?”

“What do you mean?”

“This is my first cruise, sir, an’ I grew up in Hong Gong. Never saw stars like this, but I don’t even know what they are – the names, I mean. You officers know all about that stuff, right?”

Connelly laughed quietly, “I know what you mean. Same with my first time out. Pretty, isn't it?”

“Yes, sir. What’s that one?” The boy’s voice sounded tired. Small wonder, Connelly thought, with everything that’s been going on. The young sailor pointed to the brightest dot in the eastern sky, and Connelly had to think for a few seconds.

“That’s Jupiter. A planet, not a star. With the quartermaster’s spyglass, you could pick out her moons – some of them anyways.” He went on to point out some of the stars used for navigation.

“How do you use ‘em, sir?” the sailor asked.

“You take a sextant and plot their height above the horizon – sounds harder than it is, just takes some practice – and you check that against a book of star positions.”

“Who does that, sir?”

“The book? Standard stuff. I imagine the book we use comes from the Naval Observatory in Avalon, but people have been measuring the tracks of the stairs and planets for three or four thousand years, long before telescopes were invented. Anyways, if you know the exact time, and you know where a particular star is, you can plot out where you are on the globe pretty accurately, within a few hundred yards if you really know your stuff. Same thing with the sun and the moon. That knowledge has been around for hundreds of years. The tricky part was inventing a clock that kept good time. That happened about two hundred and some years ago.”

“I thought we used satellites and stuff like that.”

“We do now, but the stars are just as pretty.”

“Yeah.” The sailor sat down, his head leaning way back to watch the curtain of white points. Beneath them the ship’s hull churned the water to foam with the whispering sound of a continuously breaking wave. Somehow the sound and the sky matched each other perfectly. “Well, at least I learned something about the stars. When’s it gonna start, sir?”

Connelly looked up at the constellation of Sagittarius. The center of the galaxy was behind it. Astrophysicists said there was a black hole in there. The most destructive force known to physics, it made the forces under man’s control appear puny by comparison. But men were a lot easier to destroy.

“Soon. Very Soon.”


Sungkei Air base
Sungkei, Ragaan
0445 10 March 2021

News of the previous day’s attack had spread like wild fire through the Gutanese Air Force. Senior Air Force officers tried their best to deny the rumors, dismissing it as enemy propaganda. Their actions only served to increase the panic inside the ranks. For the men of the 923rd Fighter Regiment the fear was clear and chilling. The base to their north and south had been severely hit, yet for some reason they had not be one of the targets of the attacks. Some had suggested that the Surdrans simply did not believe that this small air field was worth attacking, but most believed that the Surdrans were just waiting to attack them on another day. Almost none slept during the night, fearful that the Surdrans would attack during the night and kill them while they lay in their beds. The 923rd’s commanding officer, Colonel Wahyu Noviana, could see that he was facing the greatest challenge of his career.

“Pilots,” he said quietly to the nearly six dozen pilots gathered in the makeshift ready room, “this is the most serious crisis Gutan has face in a generation. Your grandfathers shed their blood driving out the imperialists. Your fathers shed their blood to defeat the Northern Gutanese revolutionaries. Now, all that they have fought for is being threatened again by the very same revolutionaries and their western puppet masters. If we fail all their sacrifices will have been for nothing, and your children will become slaves of corrupt western capitalism. Remember your training, and your aim will be true. The Government and Nation are depending on you.”

The pilots looked straight ahead, stood to attention, and filed out of the terminal building to where several trucks were waiting take them to their planes. There no sidelong glances or murmurs of conversation. The Colonel had no idea what they were thinking, and that made him uneasy. The 923rd was trained for the ground attack role, operating some 63 Su-34 Fullbacks. Fifty were flyable today, an excellent maintenance performance considering the difficulty of keeping the Saturn AL-31 engines running without regular factory overhauls and with the shortage of parts they were beginning to have. The range of nearly 1000 miles for today’s mission would limit the ordnance each plane carried to four anti-ship missiles and a pair of short-range IR missiles for defense. The most important targets were of course the three Surdran carriers. If they destroyed them then they would focus on the other ships in the Surdran fleet. There were no target folders, but every pilot was given an 8x11 photograph of a Surdran King Andrew class aircraft carrier. The latest weather reports indicated that after some morning showers, it would be clear over most of the Salam Sea. There was no up-to-date reconnaissance beyond a nearly two day old message from a Gutanese sub that had failed to report back since. The regiment took off two at a time, in ten waves, spaced a few minutes apart.


Sungkei, Ragaan
0853 10 March 2021

It was the first time they had been bored. Grant and his men had been terrified often enough, but never bored. Now they had been in the same place for four complete days, and they still had no orders to move. They observed, and reported minor Gutanese activity, but without anything substantive to do, time was heavy on them.

Grant was at the back of his hide site, Navarro and his Intelligence Specialist were are the front scanning the city below them. Grant had just come off a six hour watch and leaned up again thee roots of tree and tried hopelessly to get some rest. Every time he closed his eyes his mind went to his friends at the embassy, he hoped their end had been swift. Or worse, his mind drifted to his wife and two daughters back in Surdra. Karen must be losing her mind, Grant thought to himself. I hope they at least told her I was still alive. The girls should be alright, they’re too young to understand what’s going on. Thank the gods for that.

“Cap’n.” Navarro shoot him gently, “we got something happening.”

Grant grunted at he got up. Grabbing his binoculars he joined Navarro and his intel specialist at the front of their hide site. It took a moment for him to spot what they were talking about. Below them at the civilian airfield dozens of Gutanese fighters were pulling out of their hangers and began lining up at the end of the runway.

“Looks like the Su-34s boss,” his intel specialist said not looking away from his binoculars.

“We got Su-27s coming out of the mountainside,” Navarro said. “Whole shit load of them, sir.”

“Get a count.” Grant said reaching for the radio.

“I got forty-two Su-34s so far, scratch that. Make it forty-six.”

“Hunter calling Baseplate, over.” The communications station was a little slow today. It took three calls before they acknowledged. “This is Baseplate, go ahead Hunter.”

“Baseplate, this is Hunter, and I have information for you. We see was looks like two regiment-sized formations of Su-27s and 34s preparing to take off. “

“Can you give an exact count?”

“Sixty-two, six-two, Su-27s Flankers and forty-six – correction, fifty, five-zero, Su-34 Fullbacks.”

“Roger, thank you, Hunter. Anything else happening?”

“Negative. How long do you expect us to sit on this mountain? We saw explosions yesterday.”

“We’ll let you know. Patience, Hunter. We haven’t forgotten about you. Out.”


KSS King Mountain
Task Force 58, Salam Sea
0907 9 March 2021

“We got a heads up from our intel source in Ragaan, code sign Hunter,” Admiral Connelly listened as his intelligence officer briefed him. They were in the command ship’s Tactical Flag Command Center standing over a six by six foot 3D holographic display. Currently the Commander of Task Force 58 had the display set so that he could see the entire task force plus everything on the water and in the air for two hundred miles. “He counted nearly ninety fighters taking off from Sungkei. We also got a report from one of our subs near Rumadan that they got a possible formation lifting off from there also.”

“They’re going to be throwing everything they got at us,” TF 58’s CAG was a female Marine Colonel with fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes. She looked at the latest intelligence report on the enemy’s air forces in the region on her tablet while she nervously bit her thumb nail. “Looks like they got about ten regiments in range, but most of them are going to need tankers out and back to reach out this far and they ain't got enough for all of them. I would say at most six regiments tops.” She was in fact only off by one, the Gutanese had managed to sortie seven regiments against them. “The real attack will have to be done by the 34s. They got two regiments of them, in theory over sixty planes each, more realistically say forty-five of them are flyable. So call it ninety planes, with five anti-ship missiles apiece, we’re looking at 450 anti-ship missiles with 320 pound high-explosive warheads. Good news is they ain’t heavy enough to sink the flat tops or the big sticks.”

No, but they sure could knock them out of action, Connelly said to himself, and besides, if they were smart they would clear out our escorts, freeing up their subs to finish us off. I know I would. So far Task Force 58 had destroyed seven subs since entering the Salam Sea, all of them by the task force’s frigate and submarine screen. Gutan still had plenty more to use against the fleet.

“Any word on land based support,” Connelly asked panning the holographic display west to the Ragaanese coast.

“We got two KC-135s over us now, with two more on stand-by. We also have an E-3 augmenting our own AWACS, I’ve placed him a couple miles to our south just in case the Gutes trying hitting us from there.”

“When can we expect our friends to arrive?”

“Intel says the fighters in Sungkei took off about ten minutes ago. Figure that to save fuel, they were the last ones to take off and met the strike force nearby. I would say we got around an hour and a half before they get here.”

“What you thinking CAG?”

The air group commander paused for a moment, looking intensely at the holographic display. “Each carrier has a hummer bird up, with a pair of Hornets with each right now. Two more Hornets on the catapults, ready to go at five minutes’ notice, plus another Hummer and Hornet with buddy-stores. The rest of the fighters are plus-fifteen on the decks, loaded and fueled. One Growler over the fleet, the rest ready to go at fifteen. The KCs can stay on station for a few more hours. We’re ready. At 1000 we put the rest of the fighters up, with the Growlers in support. We’ll meet them at 200 hundred miles with everything and kick their ass.”

“Very well. Comments?”

“We still haven’t seen any of their recon birds,” Connelly’s intelligence officer said. “Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll miss us and the strike force will have to turn back.”

“Not likely, they’ll be able to detect the hummers half way around the globe,” the CAG exaggerated. “They have to know our general location, if I was them I would flood this area with their super-sonic recon birds right before the strike force arrives. They’ll want to give us the smallest amount of time to get our own fighters up.”

Connelly nodded in agreement. The task force was a circle of ships with a radius of thirty miles, the carriers and his command ship in the center surrounded by dozens of missile-armed escorts and specialized antisubmarine ships. None of the ships had a radar transmitter working. Instead they got all their electronic information from the three circling E-2D Hawkeye air-surveillance aircraft, known colloquially as Hummers, whose radars swept a circle four hundred miles across.

---

Connelly stepped outside and immediately lit a cigar. He took one large drag, and then expelled. It was a fine morning, cotton-ball clouds overhead casting shadows on the ocean below. The carriers Freedom and Enterprise were visible on the horizon, perhaps eight miles away. Their size impressive even at this distance. Closer in, the nuclear-powered guide-missile battleship Triumph was cutting through five-foot seas, her three massive gun turrets a tribute back to the time when ships like her ruled the seas. A few blinker lights traded signals. Otherwise the ships in view were grey shapes without noise, waiting. Connelly walked across the deck to the opposite side of the ship, Surdra was less than a mile away. Surdra’s deck was covered with aircraft. F/A-18E Super Hornets sat everywhere. Two were hooked up on the midships catapults, their pilots dozing. The fighters carried AIM-120 AMRAAM long range missiles. Deck crewmen in multicolored shirts scurried about, checking and rechecking the aircraft. The carrier began turning starboard, coming around into the northerly wind in preparation for launching aircraft. He checked his watch. 0958. Time to get back to the TFCC. The fleet would go to general quarters in two minutes. The admiral took one last drag of his cigar and flicked it over the rail.

---

A pair of Mig-25 Foxbat-D reconnaissance planes flew a mile apart over the Salam Sea, heading west towards the suspected area of the coalition fleet. To the north and south were four more flights of two.

“Contact!” the pilot of the lead Foxbat said over the radio. “Detecting an airborne radar transmitter, carrier type.”

“Bearing?” his wingman asked nervously.

“Patience. Northeast. Bearing to signal is two-eight-one. Signal strength one. He is quite distant. Let us see if we can get closer.”

Both planes made gentle sweeping turns to the northeast and slowly descended, hoping to use the ocean to mask their planes from the powerful airborne radars. It wasn’t long before they picked up the radar signals of three more airborne radars, including a much more powerful one to the south. Then almost one hundred and fifty miles directly ahead three more airborne radars suddenly turned on.

The lead pilot smiled, the Surdrans had unwillingly given him the location of the fleet. Signaling to his wingman to follow, the lead pilot advanced his throttles and violently pulled back on the stick. The large plane roared to life as the two jet engines poured jet fuel into the combustion chambers. Both planes were quickly traveling faster than the speed of sound and rapidly gaining altitude.

Both planes suddenly appeared on the radars of all seven airborne radars, the nearest wasting no time to order the two Hornets accompanying it to intercept the two advancing Gutanese planes. The two fighters split up and advanced south at max throttle, each picking out one of the two Gutanese planes.

The Gutanese reconnaissance planes waited for as long as they dared before activating their side looking airborne radars and turning their planes to aim the radars towards the suspected location of the enemy fleet. The lead Gutanese pilot was so focused on the numerous returns on his radar scope that he didn’t notice that the warning alarm had turned on.

Sixty miles to the north one of the two F/A-18 Super Hornets activated his fire-control radar and launched a single AIM-120D AMRAAM. The missile, traveling at Mach 4, took just over a minute to close the distance. By the time the Gutanese pilot knew he was in danger it was too late. Hit plane was blasted out of the sky in a bright orange fireball. His last act was to radio the position of the enemy fleet to the approaching strike force. His wingman fared better. Upon hearing the radar warning he immediately shut down his radar and dove to the ocean. The second Hornet also fired a missile that followed the MiG downwards before finally losing its lock and impacting into the water. The MiG-25 easily outpaced the two Hornets and escaped to the south.

---

Connelly watched the holographic display in silence. The radar picture from the Hawkeyes was being transmitted to the command ship by a secure satellite link, enabling the commander of the task force to follow everything. The same data went to the task force air defense boss on Triumph and every other ship of the task force. That included the Controlitian ships, which had been equipped to operate with the Surdran Navy. So far there was nothing except the single MiG-25 fleeing with two Hornets in pursuit. They chased the MiG right to the edge of the Hawkeyes’ radar range before the controller called the two fighters back.

By now the task force’s fighters were mostly airborne, gathered in large groups a hundred miles apart. The fighters gathered around the large tankers, and one by one the fighters were already beginning to top off their fuel tanks. The remaining aircraft on the carriers were spotted on the decks for immediate takeoff. When the raid came in, they would be shot off the catapults at once to eliminate the fire hazard inherent in any type of aircraft.

Connelly had seen all this before, but could not fail to be amazed by it. Everything was going as smoothly as a ballet. The aircraft loitered at their patrol stations, tracing lazy, fuel-efficient circles in the sky. The carriers were racing west now at thirty knots to make up the distance lost during launch operations. The battleships Triumph and Centurion raced at forty knots to positons themselves ahead of the three carriers. There was nothing for anyone to do now except wait.

---

The Gutanese raid commander scanned the sky around him. Behind him was five regiments of Su-27 Flankers and EF-1000 Typhoon fighters escorting two regiments of Su-34 Fullback fighter-bombers. His planes were arranged in what was basically a large V with the fighter-bombers nestled in the center while the raider commander and the regiment of EF-1000s formed the very tip of the formation. He estimated they were thirty minutes west of the Surdran radar coverage and four hundred miles from the location of the enemy warships.

Several planes carried powerful jammers and on the raid commander’s order each in turn activated the jammers. The pilots were nervous but confident. Each pilot knew that they outnumbered the enemy and that in they had the advantage as the attacker, but many could not shake the fear of going up against the best of the Surdran military.

The raid commander did his best to reassure his pilots, speaking to them all over their short range radios. This was his first mistake, 100 miles to the north one of Freedom’s Hawkeyes, Cyclops Four, patrolled ahead of the fleet in a large figure-eight pattern. It did not have its powerful radar activated, rather it listened passively form any electronic signals. The signals officer in the rear of the plane nearly shouted in excitement when he picked up the signals from the Gutanese Commander’s radio. Within seconds the data was beamed back to CAG on King Mountain.

---

“Sir, Cyclops Four is requesting permission illuminate.”

Connelly nodded, “permission granted, illuminate.”

Four hundred miles to the west the radar control operator in the back of the Hawkeye switched on the massive airborne radar and was almost immediately greeted with the image of nearly five hundred contacts flooding his screen. The nearest only fifty miles away. The Hawkeye’s pilot yanked hard on his control yoke and dove for the safety of the ocean floor. As the twin prop plane ran its radar remained on, feeding data back to the fleet.

“Radar contacts! Designate Raid-1, bearing zero-one-niner, range four-six-zero miles. Numerous contacts, estimate four-seven-zero contacts, course zero-niner-five, speed seven hundred knots.”

The master tactical scope plotted the contacts electronically, and a pair of plexiglass plates showed another visual display.

“So, here they come,” Connelly said quietly. “Right on time. Comments?”

“I–“ his intelligence officer didn’t get a chance.

The computer display went white.”

“Mountain Base, this is Hawk-Three. We’re getting some jamming,” reported the senior airborne control officer. “We plot twenty-four, two-four, jammers, bearing three-four-five to zero-three-five. Estimate we have escort jammers, not stand-off jammers. Contacts are lost at present. Estimate burn-through in five to ten minutes. Request weapons free, and release to vector intercepts.”

Connelly looked over at his air operations officer. “Let’s gets things started.”

Air/ops nodded and picked up a microphone. “Hawk-Three, this is Mountain Base. Weapons free. I say again, weapons are free. Release authority is granted. Splash me some bandits. Out.”

Connelly’s surface operations officer frowned at the display. “Admiral, we’re coming about to clear the decks. Recommend the formation stays together now.” He got a nod. “Mountain Fleet, this is Mountain Base, come right to three-six-zero. Launch all remaining aircraft. Execute.”

On the single command, the formation made a nearly ninety-degree right turn. Those ships that did not as yet have missiles on their launchers rectified this. Fire-control radars were trained west, but kept in standby mode. Sixty-five different captains waited for the word to activate.

Above the fleet, the giant swarm of Surdran fighters turned west and raced to meet the advancing Gutanese attack.

The battle had begun.