Marshal Murat
09-02-2007, 03:36
CC:5
(1930s, WW2 equipment with some advancements)
Captain Pollock used his binoculars to scan the Ozark foot-hills. Hundreds of rising ridges covered the northern sky-line, rolling green hills and oak trees. The Ozarks were a rise of ground that had divided the states of Missouri and Arkansas. Now it was the northern boundary for the Texas Commonwealth and the Northern Confederacy. The bountiful game made the Ozarks the northern playground of the commonwealth aristocracy. Now the lodges and mansions were being used by the ‘Arkansas Republican Front’ as headquarters and safe-houses.
That was why Captain Richard Pollock was in the Ozark mountains, leading the 2nd Royal Infantry, 1st Battalion, Reconnaissance Company into the rugged terrain, to fight the Republicans. The scouting companies were all arrayed before the regular infantry units, using jeeps and motorcycles to speed across the terrain. Now his skirmish line was resting on a hill-crest, 45 miles north-east of Fayetteville, one of the last Commonwealth strongholds in the Ozark mountains. The main infantry column was still a couple miles back, riding in trucks and personnel carriers to meet up with the skirmishers.
“Captain, the rations have been distributed,‘ lieutenant Johnson said ‘and we have contact with the recon companies from the 2nd and 3rd battalions. No republican contacts. Anything else?”
“That’s fine lieutenant” was all that Captain Pollock said as he settled into the jeep’s seat. The jeeps were all padded, making them far more comfortable than the standard-issue units from Amarillo. The men were all settled into foxholes, chewing the granola bars and bread, many drinking sweet tea from Little Rock. The August day was devilishly hot but the weather forecasters in Fayetteville and Oklahoma City, they had reported a front bringing in a chain of thunderstorms. It was like that in the Ozarks, when the fronts moved from the plains of Oklahoma into Arkansas, the thunderstorms seemed to grow stronger.
As Captain Pollock scanned the mountains, he heard thunder. To a new officer, it meant nothing. To Captain Pollock, it meant death. The thunder and crash of the howitzers were sounds that anyone from the Texas-Mexican border would know and fear. The howitzers were the California ‘Clappers’, stubby weapons that could hurl shrapnel shells, high explosive, or bomblet shells at a high trajectory, then straight down. They were weapons to be feared in the Ozark mountains.
“Take cover!” was the cry that the sergeants roared, diving into fox-holes. Captain Pollock scrambled out of his jeep and into the nearest fox-hole. The jeeps were good it the shells were coming from a flat trajectory. From the top down, it was dangerous. Now the company was in disarray, looking for a space. Pollock saw the hole and leapt inside. Lieutenant Johnson was in there with the combat-radio man. Then the shrapnel shells exploded, casting steel everywhere. Captain Pollock felt two slivers of steel fly past his helmeted head, another ricocheting from his steel pot helmet.
“Get me HQ.” Captain Pollock spoke to the combat-radio private, who began to charge the generator. Within a few seconds he handed the telephone to his captain. It buzzed for a couple of seconds, then he could hear the voice of Colonel Meirs.
“You got a problem Captain?”
“Republicans are shelling my position.”
“Welcome to the club Captain. Meirs out.”
With the dissolution of the United States, many of the states turned to regional influences. Texas reigned supreme over the south-west United States, beating back the two Mexican invasions, a Northern Confederacy invasion into Oklahoma, and the attempted rebellion of the Apache and Comanche tribes. Now they were being attacked from within, but many of the intelligence, and those in the army, they figured the Arkansas Republicans were only there because the Northern Confederacy had both the money to fund the Republicans, and the weapons to let them fight. Now the Arkansas militia, regular army units, and even some loyalist battalions were being used to stomp out the Republican Front.
Captain Pollock looked around the ridge line. There were some wounded men, mostly superficial. Then he saw the foxhole on the left flank. A shrapnel shell had landed directly inside the foxhole. A million to one shot, but it had slaughtered the two privates and the corporal inside. The thundering of the California 'Clappers' had ceased, but the thunderheads in the far distance, over the rolling hills and plateaus of stone, they were slumbering giants.
"Captain Pollock, the Colonel," the radio-man spoke up from his foxhole. Running over, Pollock took up the telephone and listened to the colonel speak.
"Captain, two reconnaissance planes identified a cleared space, and three howitzers. Your troops are the closest to them. I am ordering you to move to that area, destroy or capture the howitzers and eliminate the Republicans in the area. Do you understand you orders?"
"Yes colonel."
"They are 5 km north of your current position. Contact me when you have accomplished the task, then await reinforcements. Good luck. Over and out."
Mounting the jeeps and motorcycles, the recon company started their engines. Many pulled jagged pieces of steel shrapnel from the seats. Three motorcycles had their tires punctured, the riders mounted on jeeps. Then they descended down the ridge, to the guns 5 km north.
(1930s, WW2 equipment with some advancements)
Captain Pollock used his binoculars to scan the Ozark foot-hills. Hundreds of rising ridges covered the northern sky-line, rolling green hills and oak trees. The Ozarks were a rise of ground that had divided the states of Missouri and Arkansas. Now it was the northern boundary for the Texas Commonwealth and the Northern Confederacy. The bountiful game made the Ozarks the northern playground of the commonwealth aristocracy. Now the lodges and mansions were being used by the ‘Arkansas Republican Front’ as headquarters and safe-houses.
That was why Captain Richard Pollock was in the Ozark mountains, leading the 2nd Royal Infantry, 1st Battalion, Reconnaissance Company into the rugged terrain, to fight the Republicans. The scouting companies were all arrayed before the regular infantry units, using jeeps and motorcycles to speed across the terrain. Now his skirmish line was resting on a hill-crest, 45 miles north-east of Fayetteville, one of the last Commonwealth strongholds in the Ozark mountains. The main infantry column was still a couple miles back, riding in trucks and personnel carriers to meet up with the skirmishers.
“Captain, the rations have been distributed,‘ lieutenant Johnson said ‘and we have contact with the recon companies from the 2nd and 3rd battalions. No republican contacts. Anything else?”
“That’s fine lieutenant” was all that Captain Pollock said as he settled into the jeep’s seat. The jeeps were all padded, making them far more comfortable than the standard-issue units from Amarillo. The men were all settled into foxholes, chewing the granola bars and bread, many drinking sweet tea from Little Rock. The August day was devilishly hot but the weather forecasters in Fayetteville and Oklahoma City, they had reported a front bringing in a chain of thunderstorms. It was like that in the Ozarks, when the fronts moved from the plains of Oklahoma into Arkansas, the thunderstorms seemed to grow stronger.
As Captain Pollock scanned the mountains, he heard thunder. To a new officer, it meant nothing. To Captain Pollock, it meant death. The thunder and crash of the howitzers were sounds that anyone from the Texas-Mexican border would know and fear. The howitzers were the California ‘Clappers’, stubby weapons that could hurl shrapnel shells, high explosive, or bomblet shells at a high trajectory, then straight down. They were weapons to be feared in the Ozark mountains.
“Take cover!” was the cry that the sergeants roared, diving into fox-holes. Captain Pollock scrambled out of his jeep and into the nearest fox-hole. The jeeps were good it the shells were coming from a flat trajectory. From the top down, it was dangerous. Now the company was in disarray, looking for a space. Pollock saw the hole and leapt inside. Lieutenant Johnson was in there with the combat-radio man. Then the shrapnel shells exploded, casting steel everywhere. Captain Pollock felt two slivers of steel fly past his helmeted head, another ricocheting from his steel pot helmet.
“Get me HQ.” Captain Pollock spoke to the combat-radio private, who began to charge the generator. Within a few seconds he handed the telephone to his captain. It buzzed for a couple of seconds, then he could hear the voice of Colonel Meirs.
“You got a problem Captain?”
“Republicans are shelling my position.”
“Welcome to the club Captain. Meirs out.”
With the dissolution of the United States, many of the states turned to regional influences. Texas reigned supreme over the south-west United States, beating back the two Mexican invasions, a Northern Confederacy invasion into Oklahoma, and the attempted rebellion of the Apache and Comanche tribes. Now they were being attacked from within, but many of the intelligence, and those in the army, they figured the Arkansas Republicans were only there because the Northern Confederacy had both the money to fund the Republicans, and the weapons to let them fight. Now the Arkansas militia, regular army units, and even some loyalist battalions were being used to stomp out the Republican Front.
Captain Pollock looked around the ridge line. There were some wounded men, mostly superficial. Then he saw the foxhole on the left flank. A shrapnel shell had landed directly inside the foxhole. A million to one shot, but it had slaughtered the two privates and the corporal inside. The thundering of the California 'Clappers' had ceased, but the thunderheads in the far distance, over the rolling hills and plateaus of stone, they were slumbering giants.
"Captain Pollock, the Colonel," the radio-man spoke up from his foxhole. Running over, Pollock took up the telephone and listened to the colonel speak.
"Captain, two reconnaissance planes identified a cleared space, and three howitzers. Your troops are the closest to them. I am ordering you to move to that area, destroy or capture the howitzers and eliminate the Republicans in the area. Do you understand you orders?"
"Yes colonel."
"They are 5 km north of your current position. Contact me when you have accomplished the task, then await reinforcements. Good luck. Over and out."
Mounting the jeeps and motorcycles, the recon company started their engines. Many pulled jagged pieces of steel shrapnel from the seats. Three motorcycles had their tires punctured, the riders mounted on jeeps. Then they descended down the ridge, to the guns 5 km north.