World in Conflict

[Marshal Murat]

World in Conflict is a Cold-War game, recently released by Sierra and Massive Entertainment. These are little blubs or writing that occur to me, while playing the game. Anthology is the word, I think
:P


US CAMP 103, Prisoner: A11324WS

My rank is Lieutenant, my name is Gregor Divorky, and my report is being recorded for posterity. We were shipped out to Vladivostok, along with Army, Navy, Air Force, and the Vozdushno-Desantnye Vojska, or VDV. We were unloaded in the Vladivostok yard, and sent either to the tankers and transports, or to the Antey aircraft waiting on the tarmac. We were sent to the Antey transports. My stick had been tasked with defending a city in your state of Washington, named 'Pine Valley'. I had with me 1st platoon of A company. 12th Battalion of the 11th VDV brigade, we were being dropped into Pine Valley. Pine Valley was a city some kilometers south of Seattle, where the main forces were being landed. The city was important, to prevent U.S. forces from reinforcing any defendable line between us and Seattle. The town was ringed by hills, with a beach to the south. There was a television site to the south, then the town center, then the a supermarket, and the north east there was a gas station and a tall chimney and factory.

Our Antey had been parked in Vladivostok, and I was freezing, waiting for the line to move forward. We were being packed into the Antey like sardines, loaded down with webbing for our ammunition, the AK-74s, grenades, and our parachutes. I was loaded on last, and then the ramp was closed. My platoon was tasked with securing the city center, along with 2nd and 3rd. 4th platoon was being dropped to secure the northern road, and the rest of the battalion was going to secure a perimeter. Our Antey was loaded with two BMDs, which constrained the space even further.
Our soldiers were being given extra ammunition, along with grenades and flares. We were all in summer overalls, with anything from the blue berets to the steel helmets. I was tasked with an AK-47, and my platoon had more support weapons and several of us had RPGs, for the briefing had suggested Sheridan tanks, Bradleys, HUMVEEs, and armored forces. It was going to be an interesting drop.

We took off a half-hour later, flying over the Pacific. I slept for most of the flight, until we were awoken two hours before drop-off. We were experiencing some turbulence. The pallets were being readied to drop off, and we were checking our equipment. Water was passed around, along with some crackers and cheese. As we flew-over, the ramp was lowered and the VDV paratroopers were tasked with pushing off the BMDs.

After we dropped the BMDs, we dropped out, and landed. Our assault was quick, and we secured all our objectives, driving out the civilians. My platoon was then tasked with defending the supermarket. The other platoons also secured their objectives, and the a sniper was emplaced on the chimney. The BMDs were latter backed up by T-62s from a tanker, stationed off-shore. We were ready to repel any assault.

It was a couple hours later, probably 1700 or so. We were listening to the Soviet radio net. The divisions were slowed by several American brigades, who were blowing up T-80s, bridges, and MiG gunships left and right. The generals weren't happy, and several recce units were reporting an American force of about a division in strength, they were heading for Pine Valley.

As we listened, we established roadblocks and kill-zones, fortifying the town against any possible American assault. I was in the supermarket with the RPG units. Then the sniper reported sighting the American forces. He reported several officers and radiomen, and had killed one.
I used my binoculars, and recognized the threat. There were several armored vehicles already approaching our position, and the T-62s were being revved up. Then the chimney fell and we lost our eye-in-the-sky. An artillery spotter, he kept the battalion appraised of the situation.

I had just switched off my safety when you M-1 tank appeared up the road. Two of my men loaded their RPGs and aimed. They fired, but the shots were ineffective. A T-62 was called in for support, as well as a BMD. The American mechanized forces drove in, but we ambushed them with our RPGs, and knocked several out. Then my platoon was called back. I ran back to the town, south of me. There were a number of buildings, which we quickly garrisoned. I grabbed an RPG, and ascended to the roof. The American armored forces were pouring in from the north, and I could see TOW rocket trails and Shillelaghs firing from air-lifted Sheridan tanks. I ordered my platoon to hold fire until a Bradley IFV passed. I hit it on the cowling, and brewed it. We had hoped it was loaded with soldiers, but we were dismayed. Then a Sheridan aimed at us, and blew out the third story with a Shillelagh missile and a couple HE rounds.
An American anti-tank platoon appeared, and I opened fire with my AK-74. They called in the Sheridan tank, which caused my platoon to withdraw to the city center. There were several HUMVEEs, arranged in a bow-shape. I took aim with my re-loaded RPG, which blew a HUMVEE engine. The occupants quickly dis-embarked, and we took them out.

As we took out American infantry, a M-1 Abrams drove into the city center, and we were forced to withdraw. As we withdrew, a Bradley and Sheridan tank drove out of the forest, and forced our surrender.

[Marshal Murat]

Diary
November 23th, 1989.

Dearest Louise,

While my writing from the past week has been scarce, it was because we had to pull back into the Cascades, and dodging Commie helicopters doesn't leave much time for writing. In Nebraska, we didn't have these kinda mountains, and that was why I made us move to Seattle, just to see these snow-capped peaks. Now as we trek through the thick brush, I can understand why the Sierra Club loves these peaks. I found a nice little spot, on some mount, where we could build a cabin. Unfortunately, there is a burned-out M-1 Abram sitting in our front lawn, and a couple smoking Commie tanks nearby.

My first taste of command was a couple days ago. Sergeant Ippley was shot, and had to be taken back, and he later died. It was tough not having Ippley there, but we pulled through, and the men know what kinda leader I am. Hopefully I don't let them down. Anyway, we had an ambush situation. There were four platoons of infantry, and two Sheridan tanks. The Soviets, they have been pushing for weeks, driving into the mountains. Lieutenant Parker, he actually used a couple demolition pieces to drop an avalanche on a Commie convoy.
Well, the Soviet column had to drive along the river-bank, and we were deep in the woods. Well, the river curves around, and sitting in the blind spot we dug in the Sheridan tanks. The anti-tank infantry, we were spread out in the forest and across the river. Mutual support was what Ippley called it. I didn't care, I was a sergeant, not a lieutenant or anything.
So, we were set up in the forest, and the scouts reported the Commie 'Hormone' as we call it, circling with a thing of 'Hip' transport helicopters. Well, the Commies like to drop in infantry, with funny bright-blue berets. I got one, to show you, but anyhow, the Hormone finally landed right at the bend. Well, the Sheridan tanks were hidden, but the upper-ups got worried. Then the 'Hip' transports landed, and the Ivan troops disembarked, and got a perimeter set up.
We kept real still, and soon enough, Ivan drove up. He parked not a hundred yards from us. Well, he has all sorts of armor pieces. T-72s, BMDs, T-80s, and a company of infantry, all packed up in their transports. Well, since the Hormone helicopter hadn't gotten anything yet, they were going to sit there and then push on.

We didn't want to say anything, but the order was passed, by mouth, to ready the rockets. Well, we did, and the Sheridan tanks readied a round. I thought we were going to wait for a artillery strike or bomb, or something. Nothing happened, but a couple of the Ivans walked out to take a piss.

The TOW rocket guys got spooked, like a Nebraska bronco, and let loose. All hell followed. The Soviet infantry guys, they were taken out first. The helicopters tried to take off, but we put a rocket into the engine or the drivers seat, stopped them dead. We were firing like mad, and the Soviets tried to pull out, but Corporal Emder, he got a round into the rear T-72, stopped up the whole column. Then the Commies tried to go forward, but they were blocked by a big-ole helicopter. So they tried to ford the river. Then the other platoons opened fire, and but not before the Ivans had gotten across. The destroyed vehicles, they started to leak gasoline, and sure enough the water was on fire.
Needless to say, I was having fun punching the snot out of the Ivans, when they started back to the woods. I expected a bunch of scattered sheep, but they were the paratroopers. Nasty brutish Ivans they were, so we had to use out M-16 and CARs, liberally, to pick'em off. I even got a TOW through a whole corporal, before it hit a tree and exploded. That knocked over a tree, smashing another two Ivans. I even saw a couple young guys in the Commie force, but they scattered like jackrabbits.

I hope to see you soon, I miss you.
Provost-Sergeant Johnathon Berara

[Marshal Murat]

French Water

Captain Pierre Daugas shifted in his seat. The combat flight over the English Channel was one few men enjoyed. Every day Soviet soldiers tried to use boats to either cross the English Channel, or skip around NATO front lines. Either way, the French Air Force had to stop them. Being the Weapons Control Officer on a Mirage was a thankless job, especially since he had to use the television to guide in missiles. Miles up and away, killing men with missiles.
"Hawkeye-Four, Hawkeye-Four, we have a disturbance off the coast of Netherlands. Check it out. Square Alpha-Alpha-Foxtrot-4-0-0-3, Over."
The British air force had a habit of reporting fishing dingies as Soviet Battleships. Captain Daugas knew that it was probably only a yacht or fishers boat, but he was obligated.
"Roger that Barn-Owl. Out."


The sea seemed to shake as several bombs struck the water. The 'disturbance' were actually several Soviet amphibious assault vehicles. Hundreds of fighters now circled above the rumbling sea, rockets threading across the skyline. Flares trickled down into the sea, where the Soviets were being hit.
"Hawkeye-Four, Hawk-eye Four, two landing ships moving out. Alpha-Beta-Beta. Out."
Captain Daugas slid into the goggles, using them to scan the rumbling, roiling sea. There they were.
"Fire."

[Marshal Murat]

Going to post another story, but I wanted to ask you guys a couple things.

1. How is the first person?
2. Is there anything I can do to improve?
3. Is there a particular series that you enjoyed?

[Marshal Murat]

Soviet invasion of the Cascade Mountains



"White-capped mountains flashed by, the lower heights covered in thick evergreen forests." Those were the words of one Soviet Ka-25 pilot.
The Cascade Range passes of the mountains had been open, allowing the steel pillars of Soviet might to shove into the deep rocky mounts of the Cascade Range. A recent storm, however, closed all but a couple of the mountain roads, slowing the Soviet offensive and bottlenecking their assault. The American defenders, using MLRS and 60mm mortars, they pummeled and blunted the Soviet armored forces. Then, using local knowledge and local superiority, American armored strikes quickly surrounded and annihilated the leading Soviet spearheads. The Communist army ground to a halt.

To revitalize the offensive, the Communist commanders shifted three VDV brigades and a DsPH brigade from the counter-insurgency operations to the southernmost pass, shadowed by Mount Emerson. This pass was one of the few open, and the American defenders had beaten back several infantry and mechanized assaults, using superior position on Mount Emerson to direct precision strikes and provide air cover against Mi-26V gunships. The reinforcements were then tasked with capturing the American positions.
The Americans, meanwhile, rested and re-supplied. Using any means of transportation, supplies were being poured into American bases, to be used against the numerically superior Communist forces. Mount Emerson was considered a secondary defensive position, since the northern passes were closer to Fort Teller. However, the position was an important position, and Lieutenant Parker had shifted a couple tanks and infantry companies to secure the position, and had also used the interlude to cut down the evergreens surrounding the position to give clear fields of fire. These reinforcements and the defensive measures by Lieutenant Parker probably prevented a swift Soviet capture of Mount Emerson, when they launched their assault.

Mount Emerson is one of the many glacier-formed mountains that are the Cascade Range. The mountain is a horseshoe in shape, with the rising crest forming into a rocky plateau at the bend of the mountain. The curved bowl was a lake, now frozen over in the winter. The two ends of the horseshoe were also anti-aircraft and infantry positions, to prevent the enemy from working up the road to the main American positions on the plateau. A colonel in the 22nd Infantry Brigade had called it ‘impregnable’, after his brigade was mauled by the artillery and mortars. He was almost proved correct.

This position had to be secured, however, and the four Red Army brigades tasked with this offensive began to prepare. Calling on the Soviet air forces, they prepared the assault force. The VDV brigades were still relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, a brigade of VDV and DsPH infantry was annihilated by the American forces at Pine Valley. These brigades, the 11th, 21st, and 9th VDV brigades and the 5th DsPH brigade, were organized under General Dmitri Polskasky, a veteran of the VDV drops into Fulda Gap and Hamburg.
General Polskasky realized the critical points on the assault on Mount Emerson were these. The two roads leading up to the main American positions were the key to re-supplying the MLRS and mortar teams. Second, the Americans, while enjoying air denial ability, were prevented by the rocky terrain and forests from maintaining a lock on the Soviet air elements. With these two items in mind, General Polskasky organized a plan of assault.

The operation was organized as such. The 11th VDV brigade would assault from the south, and cut the southern road. The 21st VDV brigade would secure the northern road, and the 9th VDV and the 5th DsPH would assault up the western slope, after the AAA weapons had extinguished their supplies. The operations were then to be supported by the 22nd Infantry brigade and 4th Mechanized Division, which would secure the American positions, and then use Mount Emerson for a control center.

When the assault kicked off on November 22nd, it went wrong quickly. The Ka-25 scout helicopters, meant to drop in the 11th and 21st VDV brigades, were unable to transport the bulk of the VDV forces. General Polskasky had to either take helicopters from the secondary assault, or he had to send in the brigades piecemeal. Oddly enough, General Polskasky decided that the brigades were to be dropped in piecemeal, and then sent in an assault on the roads.

As per a report by Private Dolmosky, the operations went as such.
“The Ka-25 helicopters were unable to take us all in, so my platoon was to be dropped in, followed by the 2nd and 3rd platoons, until we could mount an assault. Our drop-zone was screened, but only a couple hundred meters up the hill, there were American positions. As soon as we formed a skirmish line, were were subjected to intense small-arms and mortar fire. We quickly lost the sergeant, corporal, and several other privates. We were being ripped apart."

The American corporal, Arnold Hamhein, reported in his journal of the first Soviet paratrooper assaults.
"The Commies landed within the mortar range. They used those squat helicopters. Flew in low, so the radar units couldn't pick them up. The Abrams tanks were called in, to take them out. There weren't as many Soviets as we thought, especially after the amount of enemy pulled out of counter-guerrilla operations in the south. We were told brigades, not platoons."

As the VDV brigades were slowly being lifted in, the American forces were, as Corporal Hamhein reported, bringing in Abrams and Sheridan tanks to support the infantry positions. The Soviet commanders had calculated the VDV would be in place to prevent any armored reinforcements. However, the American tankers swiftly took up position, preparing to open up with HE rounds.

Lucky for the Soviets, at least one VDV commander possessed situational awareness, calling in smoke shells. They quickly obscured the Soviet forces, and the shells continued to fall, preventing the accurate suppressing fire that had decimated the earlier drops. The American tanks tired to open fire with their HE rounds, but they only injured a few soldiers. The men were dropped in, and mortars, RPG soldiers readied, and the VDV soldiers prepared for an assault. Both prongs of the assault then began their assault.
Charging up the mountain flanks, the Soviets soon began to take losses befitting a sudden human assault. The American forces, now given targets and height, began to take advantage. Snipers picked off leaders and radio men, who were trying to call in artillery strikes. Two tanks began spewing shells filled with glass and steel nails. Soviet soldiers fell in droves. Many of the Soviets dug in with spades, and called in another artillery barrage.

[Tran]

The title can't be missed :2thumbsup:

Nice story, telling from first person perspective is good. However, you might also want to tell story from the third-person perspective.

While it is interesting to hear story of soldiers from the front-line (battlefield), you might also want to tell about what actually happen within both Kremlin and White House. Political decisions, plot, commander briefing, hidden agenda, secret deal, conspiracy (might be :sweatdrop: ), and such, therefore the audience know more and get the "bigger picture" about the situation. You can also tell about story from both navy and air force view (sailors and pilots)

Also, I am kind of confused with the timeline in the story, are they supposed to take place long after the other? For example in Orange-12 Alpha, was the martial law took place long after the war ended, or was it took place when the war still raging on? (AFAIK, Paris and other French cities were captured by the Soviets some time during the 'game')

Well, that's just my opinion. I like "what-if" Cold War and WW3 hyphotethical scenarios. Try to put the story in your signature, maybe that'll attract more people's attention?

[Marshal Murat]

Thank you for the feed-back.
Definitely going to try some different story-lines and perspectives.

Orange Alpha removed.

[Marshal Murat]

Rouen Horatii

I was tired. Every bone from my heel to skull, it ached. My ballistics helmet was still strapped on, but it was worthless. The steel and ceramics had taken more than it's fair share of bullets and shrapnel. My head felt like it was splinting apart. My body was wet from head to foot, the chill slowly sinking in. But it was worth it. I did it. A Humvee pulled up, along the muddy riverbank. Already, the Soviets were counter-attacking. There were some even attempting to hit him. Well they would try to hit me. The green-brown soldiers seemed to rise from the ground. The .50 cal. gun on the Humvee opened fire, and I could hear the bullets zip and crack. The medics leapt out, pulling the stretcher apart. I heard a bullet thump into the mud-bank. Then, as the medics hit me with morphine. I felt myself going to sleep, eyes closing, darkness descending. And I smiled all the way back to the aid station.


"Goddamn it, Delta-Jupiter, where is my fire support?" I listened in on the company net, sitting high in my Apache helicopter. The Warsaw Pact forces had been pushing into France, riding high on a steel wave. Now, as they were driving in on the Seine, Rouen their target. My helicopter unit was assigned air-support.
"This is Lumber Six, requesting Hound-Epsilon-Longbow-Iroquois strike, Square 4-4-1-2 Foxtrot. Target Mu-Beta-Tango, out." My radio crackled, and my pilot slowed the rotors to drop the Apache gunship. Overhead, two Mirage jets streaked across the blue sky. They were on the way to deliver a napalm strike. Bloody Soviets. I looked around, using both my television screen and infra-red scanner. Then I saw the site.
Hundreds of Soviet soldiers, tens of BMDs, T-80 tanks, all like black ants in a roiling smoke cloud. The IR scanner, it showed what he was looking for. The Soviet Main Battle Tanks, driving into the American position. They had hoped to avoid the TOW weaponry, using smoke to obscure their positions. Not their heat signatures.
Unlocking the missiles took only a couple seconds, and the missiles streaked straight and true. They were ripped apart. The chain-guns roared and grumbled, copper shells tingling in the sunlight. I launched more rockets, exhaust streaking across the screen. Flying over, the other Apache helicopters launched their payloads. Then away, flying high over the roiling smoky boil that were the American forces, defending the bridge against Soviet columns.
"Lumber Six to Delta-Jupiter. Withdraw across the bridge."
"Captain, we got the Commies on the run! That heli strike broke their assault!."
"Delta-Jupiter, we transmit in code. You are ordered to withdraw. Across. The. Bridge. Laser-bomb strike will destroy bridge. Out."
My Apache lifted itself higher, rockets almost entirely expended. I looked around. My entire group had expended the rockets. Now we circled, waiting to be replaced. Every strike required another helicopter shift, and Lumber Six, Command & Control, they had two more squadrons waiting to replace my squadron.

"Lumber Six, the demolitions were duds. Soviets massing for another attack. Request fire support." Delta-Jupiter called across.
"Negative, we have no support for you."
"Lumber Six, I suggest you find me support, or we are losing this bridge!" Delta-Jupiter had yelled into his set. I watched from high, the steel bridge stood. Rouen was now a gushing behemoth of fires and black smoke. I had already seen several Blackhawks swerve across the landscape, followed by Little Birds. The Rangers were blowing the bridges across the Seine, to stop, or slow the Soviets. I couldn't agree more, and as the Delta-Jupiter soldiers, regular GIs, tried to blow the bridge, the Soviets poured in.

"Squadron, we need to blow that bridge. Use rockets, anything. Hit the bridge." I ordered over the squad vox. They followed me in, striking the bridge with the remaining rockets. The engineers scrambled over the bridge structure, setting new explosives. Two T-80s rumbled up the road, aiming for the nearest engineers.
I spoke to my pilot.
"Take us down, in front of the bridge."

My trigger finer pressed the trigger swiftly, the machine-gun rattling and clanking, firing armored piercing bullets. The BMD tanks could stand that fire, but not for long. Seven T-80s, two T-62s, and three BMDs. All were destroyed. My helicopter wasn't in any better shape. My left wing was gone. Hundreds of bullets had passed through my cockpit. I was ready to simply drop the bird. My squadron kept flying. They had actually re-loaded, contributing to my stand. Now two Hellfire rockets smashed through the BMD. Another one down.
"Pilot, get the hell out. You've done enough. We are going to blow the bridge." Delta-Jupiter called out. His Bradley tanks had supported my helicopter, but their guns weren't able to fend off the strongest armor.
"Captain, we got two engineer battalions of Ivans in amphibious vehicles. Their driving down to take the bridge."
"Hold them off lieutenant!"
"I am! There are eight or nine of the turtles, and their supported by half the Red Army! Capt...."
I looked to my left, and I saw the eight black shapes churning down river. There was also a column of T-80s, supporting them with their fierce blackened snouts.
"Blow it. Save yourself, pilot."

I knew my pilot was gone. The roof was blown off, he was in the water. I didn't blame him. I kept on firing. The Soviets had tried to take out my helicopter with an RPG. The Apache was a dead-duck. Hundreds of rounds had passed through the rotors, engines, blades. My gun still worked, that is, my Heckler and Koch submachine gun. It purred as it fired, striking the Soviets as they navigated towards me. Then I felt the world shake beneath me, and I let go.

[Marshal Murat]

Kremlin - Beijing

Ambassador Sakolov watched the streets of Beijing pass by. Hundreds of smokestacks, thousands of people, millions of bricks, and only he had a car. The Chinese copy was rackety and noisy, but it was prestigious. Hundreds of bicycles and rickshaws passed, and he watched from behind the glass. Ambassador Sakolov felt privileged. Now as he approached the Forbidden City, he prepared his packet. Hundreds of Communist supporters had been emplaced in the governments, thousands of sympathizers controlled the provincial communes. The Russians could throttle the Beijing government, if they wanted to. No, Sakolov wasn't going to threaten the prime minister, he was going to ask nicely.
Join the Soviets, or join a hangman's noose. It wasn't too difficult, and Ambassador Sakolov wasn't worried. Why get worried over a meeting that wasn't more than an act.


Jiang Jiu felt the pistol sit firmly against his palm. As a member of the Secret Police, Jiang Jiu had known, almost from birth, that he would have to kill a relative. Now, as his uncle slowly stirred his tea, Jiang Jiu eyed the Soviet sympathizer. His uncle had recently, very recently, made his espionage known. A tapped call from his office to the Mongolian consulate. His uncle was the foreman at the largest munitions plant in southern Shanghai, the Qingpu neighborhood. Now, sipping tea, Jiang Jiu readied himself. Steadied himself.
"Uncle, have you been a spy for the Soviets?"
"My nephew, why do you ask?" Uncle replied from his seat.
"Because I'm going to kill you, since you are." Jiang Jiu slipped the silver revolver from his sleeve, and pulled the trigger. Two bullets smashed his uncle's skull apart, the third chipping the door. Jiang Jiu reloaded his revolver. Looking around, Jiang slipped an identical, tainted revolver onto the table, stained with the fingerprints of another Soviet sympathizer. Jiang Jiu left home, hoping to get drunk enough to forget his uncle.

[Marshal Murat]

Irony of War
(MP Game)


"General, the Mi-8s have entered the battle-zone." The radio operator spoke up, gaining the attention of the busy General Domaskroy. The Pole had been running the Russian operations Marseilles. With the American divisions pouring across the Atlantic, he was running a marathon.
"Good. Hit those forsaken dogs on the right flank. I need those artillery pieces taken out. Go."


The helicopters thumped low over the terrain, whirling and swirling, swooping low. Private Krazeny had his legs hanging out of the rear door, the foliage passing only two or three meters away.
"Pilots are crazy fools, flying so low." Krazeny heard over the prop wash.
"Idiot! It's to avoid the American AA radar. The Americans couldn't tell their head from their hand anyway, but they got technology on their side."
Krazeny knew that was true. Then again, if they were idiots, why were they pushing the Soviets back? It wasn't his problem though. It was the commanders problem, not his.

"Ten seconds!" the captain called out, and Krazeny pulled on his gloves. The helicopter then slid over an empty spot, and Krazeny pulled on the rope. Carrying the RPG, he was one of the more important soldiers in the anti-tank unit. There were others, but he got the highest scores on the training field. Now it was going to practical use.
Sliding down, Krazeny felt the heat of friction burn into his gloves. With a thump he landed on the turf, and crouching, the private sprinted away. The rest of the stick followed him down. As the last slid down, the helicopter turned away. Then, only a few meters away, it imploded. Smoke spiked outwards. The other sticks suffered the same fates, lost without support.
Rushing to the tree line, Private Krazeny unstrapped his RPG, plugging a round inside the tube.
"Move out!"

The MLRS had just finished firing, smoke swirling around the launcher. Already they were reloading, more rockets. They fired their rockets in stages, so that there was always one ready, and so that the smoke covered the other MLRS. Not with so much metal in one place.

"Pick your targets." went down the line, and Private Krazeny aimed for the MLRS furthest from him. Almost beyond the acceptable range. Almost.
"Fire."


"Sir, it seems the Russians captured our equipment. As they continued to fire, the Polish general thought his men had failed, and sent in a strike team. They destroyed our weapons and their men."

[Boyar Son]

Awesome story, ive been following it!!


"Hound-Epsilon-Longbow-Iroquois strike"

thats military talk for "HELI" strike??

cool

[Agent Miles]

For future reference, here’s some of the real “military talk”. These are the call signs for the letters and numbers (known as alphanumeric) of my favorite army:

A-Alpha
B-Bravo
C-Charlie
D-Delta
E-Echo
F-Foxtrot
G-Golf
H-Hotel
I-India
J-Juliet
K-Kilo
L-Lima
M-Mike
N-November
O-Oscar
P-Papa
Q-Quebec
R-Romeo
S-Sierra
T-Tango
U-Uniform
V-Victor
W-Whiskey
X-X ray
Y-Yankee
Z-Zulu
Pronunciations of the numbers:
0-Zero/1-Won/2-Too/3-Tree/4-Fower/5-Fife/6-Six/7-Seeven/8-Ate/9-Niner
(each digit in a series of numbers is pronounced separately, e.g., 100 is won-zero-zero)

Each combat unit has its own call sign. A platoon call sign might be Nightstalker. Then the platoon’s four squads would be Nightstalker one through four, respectively. Nightstalker five would be the platoon sergeant (Plat’ Daddy) and the six element would be the platoon leader. For companies and above, the first four elements are for the staff sections (admin, security, operations and supply), five is the First Sergeant (1SG) or Command Sergeant Major (CSM) and the six is the unit commander. Thus, Household Six might then be a nickname for a soldier’s spouse and Heaven Six would, of course, be God. Your unit is issued an SOI (Signal Operating Instruction) that has all the call signs and frequencies (“freeks”) that you would need.

[Marshal Murat]

Thanks.


Now I will continue butchering the military talk of the U.S. & Soviet military.

:idea2:

Seriously though, thank you.

[Marshal Murat]

Author Note:
Using Agent Miles' suggested system, I will try (key word) to effectively and correctly emulate military talk. While his notes have been helpful, when referencing numbers I will continue using regular one, two, three, four.
Otherwise...

Each combat unit has its own call sign. A platoon call sign might be Nightstalker. Then the platoon’s four squads would be Nightstalker one through four, respectively. Nightstalker five would be the platoon sergeant (Plat’ Daddy) and the six element would be the platoon leader. For companies and above, the first four elements are for the staff sections (admin, security, operations and supply), five is the First Sergeant (1SG) or Command Sergeant Major (CSM) and the six is the unit commander. Thus, Household Six might then be a nickname for a soldier’s spouse and Heaven Six would, of course, be God. Your unit is issued an SOI (Signal Operating Instruction) that has all the call signs and frequencies (“freeks”) that you would need.


The Red Blanket

"Saltshaker Four, Saltshaker Five. 0400 Report. Over."

"Saltshaker Five, Saltshaker Four, our squad moved from Golf-Golf-Two to Golf-Golf-Three, and we..."

Silence

"Saltshaker Four, report?"

"We got, a, a, uh, Saltshaker Five."

"What is it Saltshaker Four?"

"Have you contacted Saltshaker Three yet?"

"Yes, they were moving from Golf-Golf-Three to Golf-Golf-Four. Caught them moving through Hainburg. "

"We found Saltshaker Three."

Silence

"What do you mean you found Saltshaker Three?"

"We (voices in the background) SHUT UP!"

"Saltshaker Four?"

"The bloody (voices in the background)"

"Saltshaker Four what is going on? Do we need to drop some napalm or fly recon?"

"There was (voices in the background) WILL YOU BE QUIET! Do you need aid? No! I've got the sergeant on the horn. He'll know what to do."

"Saltshaker Four what the hell is going on! Unless I get some answers..."

"Sarge, we got Saltshaker Three here. All of them."

Silence

"What do you mean, all of them?"

"Alive, sir. We got them all, alive."




"So, Sergeant Domenic, you found the entire third squad, naked, in the forest?" The Humvee was jumping and jittering across the Washington roads, buttoned and cratered by bombs and shells. Inside Captain Youngton and Domenic talked in the back.
"Well, evidently, the squad corporal is a joker, and a bad one. If he wasn't so good with a gun, he'd be in some jail cell. He was the cook, dropped some sleeping cell tablets in their food. The squad dropped to sleep. He then stripped them to their boxers, tied them to a tree, and left them there. When Saltshaker Four found the squad, well, they were surprised, to say the least."
"We fight a war, and we have these jokers."

"War makes strange bedfellows."

[Agent Miles]

Saltshaker? You might want to try something a little more butch, like Ghostrider, Gladiator or Gunfighter (and that's only the G's).:yes:

[Marshal Murat]

"This place would've been bustling right now."
"Why do you say that James?"

The two soldiers sifted though the newspapers, fliers, everything. The Bradleys were parked nearby. They were both in handicapped parking spots, just for irony sake. The police weren't looking.

"Well, if you looked, sarge. The high school was planning on showing 'Beauty and the Beast'. Oddly enough, it's tomorrow night." James pointed at the small print school flier.
"I sure hope that the actors aren't dead. I wanna see that." Sergeant Polman as he took a cigarette out of his pocket. He lit it, puffing some.
"Hell Sarge, they're only kids." Corporal James replied, tossing the flier away.
"Kids, they were all probably smoking under-age." Polman said, picking up a tabloid.
"Sarge, we didn't all grow up in the ghettos."

Sergeant Polman looked up. Corporal James had already moved on. The local informers, they left papers, detailing who collaborated, what units, how many. Now the 2nd Infantry, Able Company, 'Eagle' Platoon, 1st Squad, they were searching through every scrap of paper. Looking for something.

"Sarge, we got Eagle Two on the vox. They are reporting" 1st Gunner Salamar looked back into his Bradley track.
"What is it gunner! You got three seconds." Sergeant Polman yelled at the gunner, who re-appeared.
"Eagle Two has sighted three Soviet infantry elements moving in from the north. Bloody Ruskies are pushing for a counter attack."

A few minutes later, Sergeant Polman was on the radio with Eagle Six.
"Sergeant, we got Foxhound and Mohawk elements moving for flanking. Until then, you have to hold them. Got that sarge? Over."
"Eagle Five roger. Out."
Sergeant Polman called out to the captain, and sent the Bradley tracks north.


The chain guns rattled, and Sergeant Polman watched. He wasn't really happy that he had to reload the smoke rounds, someone had to do it. Sergeant Polman just wished he didn't have to do it under fire. The rest of the squad was splayed out in a skirmish line, meeting with the other squads. The motorized platoon had stopped the first Ruskie push. Now they were pulling back. Mortar rounds were already falling, covering the retreat. Or they were supposed to be. Now, they were just waiting for Foxhound and Mohawk elements.

"This is Hellhigh Three. We got the Ruskies in sight, napalm primed. Inbound."

Sergeant Polman felt the heat wave. Hundreds of degrees, jellied gasoline burned hot. It was like an oven. But an oven of war. Resting against a tree-trunk, he looked quickly, then turning away. The fires were burning, but would be gutted, soon.
"Eagle elements this is Foxhound Three. We have you in sight. We are opening fire. Five seconds. Over."
"Foxhound Three, this is Eagle Five. We see you. Out."
And Sergeant Polman saw a Sheridan tank appear, spewing fire and smoke.

Edit:
It's a little awkward calling something 'Infantry Fighting Vehicle' when a 'tank' would suffice. Track is better.
Sheridan tanks are used in WiC. If you want to take it up with them, go ahead. I just go by my skills and the game.

[Agent Miles]

I cruised the WiC site and I see where you are coming from. Here's a few more tips. No one says "over and out". Its one or the other, never both together, as in "WTF, over!". Although a Bradley has more firepower than most WW II tanks, its not a tank. It carries an infantry squad and is therefore an Infantry Fighting Vehicle (IFV) or more simply referred to as a "track". Finally, Sheridan tanks were a POS and since 2003 their last mission was to act as an artificial reef. Hope that this will help you save Seattle.

[Marshal Murat]

I'm going to be busy, so if someone wants to take this on, be my guest, but this thread is going to be empty for a couple weeks.

[Hooahguy]

this is so good. in fact, so good that i necroposted!