Battle of Florida

The year, 2058.
August 29th, a year since the beginning of the war.
World War III.

NATO and EU have banded together in the United Republics to fight New Communist Powers. Made up of China, North Korea, Argentinia, and Cuba, these nations began the war with attacks on Taiwan, South Korea, Chile, and United States. Massive uprisings in the south of Florida have turned Tampa Bay and farther south into Cuba. Fighting back, the 83rd Troop Command and remaints of 53rd Infantry Brigade are making a stand at Gainsville. Dropping in the 12th Spec Ops Guard Company, they are armed with HAR-90 rifles and encased in a body thermal glove, heavy body armor strapped on.

The blast of shrapnel threw steel shards in all directions. Tingling like rain on a steel roof, the sound seemed faint to Arthur Toole as he scanned the road below. Mostly machine garages, two and three story buildings, each hiding the attackers. The shell had come from the blasted hulk of a T-72, blown apart by a TOW missle. Lying down on an overpass, he and his squad, Richard with his black armor, Thomas with his green, and Edgar with his dark blue armor all covered the road below. To the front, the Cuban 23rd Volunteers, and an armored unit of two T-72 tanks were advancing slowly to the main brigade center located in a Olive Garden restaurant behind Arthur. Around the city, sporatic machine gun fire, a crack of a sniper rifle, or the boom of a tank sounded off as the Cubans advanced towards the remaints of the 53rd Infantry Brigade.

"Op-1, this is Dade-2. We have a TOW thrown up, give us a target" Dade-2, the National Guard commander of a small group of anti-tank men sounded in an earpiece, his TOW set up below the overpass, behind a pillar.
"Roger that Dade-2, giving target" Arthur pulled out two napalm grenades and pulled the top. Counting to two, he tossed one then the other away towards a machine shop, the top of the shop blown apart. Cracking a window, they both began to flame and flicker. Suddenly bursting, the windows cracked as the napalm caught the gasoline tanks inside.
Slowly rumbling, the tank inside pushed against the metal gate that blocked the shop entrance. Buckling, the gate burst away from the sliders that held it in place. Pulling out of the machine shop, the tank fired its coaxle machine gun at the overpass.
Suddenly hissing, the TOW blasted away, flying into the side of the tank. Exploding into flames, the tankers attempted to escape. Popping quickly, the HAR's bullets picked off the Cubans, who tumbled away dead.
"Thank you Op-1, check off another" Dade-2 broke in on his earpiece. Smiling, Arthur checked his GPS. Already, a column of red triangles moved down the road toward his position. A armored column.

"Bring up another Dade-2, we have a column" Arthur tapped his earpiece to transmit. Suddenly starting, bullets rattled and pinged onto the overpass. The Cubans had decided to give cover fire. Faintly rumbling, the sound of tanks slowly increased in sound as they approached. A curve in the road protected the armored column from sight, and gave the TOW time to prepare.

Grunting up, the last T-72 broke out of another machine shop up the road. Firing the coaxle, its bullets added to the barrage of lead plucking off the overpass.
"Dade-2 we have another" Arthur tapped in, watching the T-72 slowly turn to head down the road. Hissing, the TOW rocket flew away, striking the side treads on the right side. Nothing perfect. Still moving, the T-72 had slowed down slightly. Behind, the muzzle of a 'Havanna Honey', the nickname for the dual mounted 75mm cannons on a modified T-72 tank. They could give decent support against infantry, and light mechanized units. They were however, just as vulnerable as the regular T-72.

Rolling along, the T-72 slowed the column up. Another hiss as a TOW flew into the T-72. Thundering in succesion, the two 75mm cannons fired at the pillars.
"Dade-2 withdrawing, calling in support" the earpiece crackled. Shifting slightly, Arthur smacked the cartridge on his rifle, making sure it was loaded. Slackening, the fire of the Cuban infantry died as the tanks provided the core fire support.
Suddenly whirling, the sound of two Apache helicopters and a Chinook took Arthur by surprise. Turning, he watched as the three helicopters race to, then hovered above him. Turning to face the new threat the tanks aimed at the three intruders. Suddenly humming Arthur watched as the two Apaches fired lasers. Aimed at the two lead tanks, the lasers began to burn into the armor, then exploded the tanks apart. Shifting their aim, the Apache helicopters aimed for the buildings nearby. The Chinook opened up with four laser beams, sweeping the buildings as well as the column. Watching at the glory, he realized that the Cubans were fleeing. Aiming at the nearest his rifle kicked into his shoulder.
More cracks as rifles sent Cubans twisting away. Another explosion blew buildings apart, bricks and stones flying into the road. Slowly advancing the Apaches turned down the road to destroy the tanks.

Very imagineative. Keep going! :charge:

September 2nd 2058
Having fought hard for Gainesville, Florida pennisula was split between Jacksonville and Tallahassee. Leading the attack, the depleted 2nd Corp, and the 3rd, and 1st Corp of the Cuban army. The 2nd Corp is assaulting Tallahassee. The 83rd and 53rd are now shadows of brigades. The 12th Spec Ops, having lost none in the Battle for Gainesville. Riding south, the 48th Infantry Brigade from Georgia to stop the Cuban advance.


Crouched down among the palms, Arthur could see the skrimish line of Cubans advancing to the river. The land they tread apon sloped down to the riverbank where a series of mines had been placed by Thomas. Pines and palms, shrubs and vines covered this part of Florida. This was the lead element of the 2nd Corp.
Castro the Third had hoped to cut the head from the body by taking Tallahassee. He also wished to gain fame, by taking the first state capitol. Thus the veteran 2nd Corp was tasked with the job.

Looking into the scope, he aimed for the soldier with the RPG. Pointed at a warhead, he steadied his aim.
Crack, boom
The HAR bullet had struck the grenade, sending the carrier into the air, and those soldiers nearby into the bushes. Another series of cracks as the rest of his squad stuck targets. Snapping around them, bullets send leaves and bark into the air. Away, a BMP armored personel carrier. Built for amphibious operations, it had a turret could carry some number of soldiers. Rolling down the slope, two more followed.
"Hit the broadside" Edgar spoke up, his voice hoarse.
"Roger that, Thomas, punch the boardside" Arthur ordered, looking back at Thomas.
Nodding, he pulled out a remote control. Pressing the play button, two flares that had been placed into the ground a couple hundred yards distant from the group exploded, the flares shooting off into the distance. The first BMP turned towards it, the others turning, following in oblique.
Watching, Thomas pulled out another remote. Waiting for the mark, the three BMPs were in the zone. Pressing the red button, the Claymores exploded, followed by two remote mines. Thundering, the explosion sent flames upwards.
Looking at the destruction, Arthur aimed at those exposed, and fired. Seven Cubans fell away before the rest ducked away in the bushes. Now, the BMPs had become blackened skeletons, a random pop of a cartridge firing away. Pulling out a grenade, Edgar pulled the pin and tossed it. Exploding, a body flew away. Scanning the bushes, the other three fired at any movement. Content with their achievements, they withdrew to the far side of the river.

Switching away from the Battle of Florida part, and going on a new track.
This is to conserve the among of threads I have at one time.

Richard ejected the spit into the nearby bush, hoping to get the saliva out of his throat. Content, he looked again into the pines ahead of him. Empty as they had been for the past couple of minutes. The Northern Republic had taken Tranheim, and were marching southward, toward his army.

Now his army had moved. Leading the march, McPhenry's Corp had gone as far as they could, then thrown out numerous skrimishers, himself included in the groups that were fanning out in front of the Corp.

Adjusting his broad hat, he looked around the pines again. Mounted on a brown quarter horse, his gray greatcoat was a brighter color against it. One hand held the reins, the other the cold black pistol tucked inside his coat.

"Hey Richard, lets move back. Its almost five, and McPhenry will be worried," his co-leader, Augustus Rimmble pleaded. Looking around at him, the subbordinate shifted his gaze. Looking around again, the pines were not changed, and the sun was setting.
"Okay men, lets," Richard began to pull the reins away. Suddenly snapping a loud curse broke the silence.
"Enemy, enemy ahead, fire at will!" Richard pulled his reins hard, whipping out his pistol. Thundering, two rifles smoked from the pines.

Pulling the trigger, the hammer rose and fell swiftly, cracking on the bullet. Smoking slightly, he pulled the trigger again. Another series of snaps occured as the other riders fired off shots. Knicking the flanks, the horse galloped the other way, the other riders following him. Firing off a couple more shots behind him, Richard turned away and leaned forward onto the horse.

They had slowed after three or four miles of galloping, froth covering the bridle of all the horses. Richard was also tired, tired of the ride, and with a strange emptyness after the firing. Now the Corp expanded before him. The Corp had arranged itself along the main road that Richard had been following. Pickets had challanged him as he entered, and the answer of Reichsteem had sent him into camp.

The camp itself was large, lines of tents lining the road. The camp was built around a tavern that was built by the roadside. Fields surrounded the camp, and behind him, the flat lands, then the pines. Having passed some cavalry on his way back, they were armed with carbines, and ready for a fight. Passing into camp he and his group roder into his squadrons tent section. Richard tried to dismount, then almost fell off his horse. Dropping to his knees after his dismount, he began to cry slightly, the sudden fear, and the energy of the skrimish. Being new to the regiment hadn't helped him with this experiance, despite all the training. Suddenly reching, his contents of hardtack ended up on the grass.

Pattin his back, Augustus had lines of water along his cheeks.
"Were safe Richard, safe in camp," the other riders also added the sounds of stomachs being turned inside out as they sat around camp.

"Captain Richard Erenne, the general is expecting you," a soldier behind him spoke up, he voice quivering somewhat. Having just arrived, Richard hadn't seen him.
"Thank you," Richard stood up, wiping off his stomach contents on his sleeve. Following the soldier, they crossed camp to the tavern. Marching past them, a regiment of soldiers in gray kepis and greatcoats tundled on, rifles leaning against their shoulders. Passing between tents, they arrived at the rear door to the tavern.

Thumping on the tavern door, it swung inside, revealing a large oak table with numerous cuts and scrapes marking its surface. Sitting around it, the higher officers, Klenbourne, his division commander, and McPhenry, the Corp commander.

"Captain Richard, is that correct?" Klenbourne asked, his large black beard giving him a father like appearance.
"Yes, sir" Richard looked at his boots, once shiny, and now dusty from the ride.
"What happened," Klenbourne shifted himself, his fingers drumming against his thigh.
"We were patrolling, and then a snap, and a couple of shots were fired. I withdrew, and fired a couple of more times," Richard looked up at his superiors.
"That is all Richard, that is all," Klenbourne spoke, and the world blacked out.

"Birchwood" McPhenry wasn't proud of his Corp. Already, three seperate thrust by Republicans had driven away his own forces. All along the pine trees. The pines had been a barrier between himself and the enemy, for every time anyone approached, a howitzer and a couple of rifle snaps had driven away his troops. Now Thomas Arbourgh, Field Marshal of the Army, was getting agitated. He had sent the 2nd Corp, under his son Wallace Arbourgh to give support.
Mounted on his charger, McPhenry watched the column of gray soldiers move past silently, quickly. His engineers had been surveying, and seen the path for woodcutters. It was a pine coated path, and in the early morning, the less sound, the better. He had decided to move quickly, and sent Klenbourne's division of soldiers, minus the cavalry, in a route to bring him on the enemy flank.
Suddenly thumping, the sound of his base artillery fired off into the pines.
Approaching, his division commander, a man with a big black beard, Klenbourne.
"My 2nd Brigade is marching out of camp, and our artillery barrage has begun" the commander waved off into the direction fo camp.

later...

"5th Provincia, follow me!" McPhenry drew his sword with a flourish, and knicked his horses flanks. To his left, the 5th Provincia leveled their bayonets and charged across the open field. Behind him, the other regiments followed, screaming aloud. Rippling, the sound of rifles sent bullets whirling past McPhenry as he stormed across.