The EAU is open to trade with all nations. We would love to establish trade relations with you. Your nation has many ores and fuels that are valuable to my country. We have farms and the agricultural products they produce. However, I would like to go a step further. I think it may be a good idea to see a military alliance between our nations. I will await a response from you. Good day and thank you for your offer.
Firebase Dagger, Ogaden Ethiopia, Holy Islamic Caliphate July 8, 2021
The concrete-brick buildings of Firebase Dagger shook violently from the impact of the blast. At the front gate of the base, a huge plume of smoke could be seen rising from the front entrance of the base. Soldiers scurried around in an unorganized fashion: most not even wearing clothes, save for boxers and undershirts. Private First Class Nader Ayasi was one of them, clutching his assault rifle and holding his unbuckled helmet to his head as he strode behind a stack of crates wearing only some tennis shoes and BDU pants. A bandolier of magazines was sloped around his bare chest, bouncing around without a hand to secure it. Rampant firing could be heard relatively close-by, with Ayasi flinching every time a shot rang out from nearby. He was heading to find his squad leader: Staff Sergeant al-Suhav, a Palestinian with a knack for being a hard-ass.
Ayasi continued running by the dug-in concrete barracks buildings while looking for his comrades. Soldiers streamed out left and right, while the chattering of automatic fire was getting closer. The sun beat down on the base, which was stranded in the middle of the desert with no civilization visible for dozens of kilometers in every direction. An artillery unit was housed there as a support function for border defense, and now the multimillion riyal pieces of equipment were in serious danger. According to what Ayasi had heard from a hyperventilating Corporal, two M113 trucks had driven up to the gate around five minutes ago. One promptly exploded, killing four armed guards and sending shrapnel downrange wounding another thirteen. The second truck's doors then opened, revealing about six Ethiopian nationals, clad in masks and armed with PKM machine guns. They began finishing off whoever survived the first explosion, sending the survivors running for cover.
An alert had gone out, sending the troops scrambling to positions as what seemed like a whole fleet of mismatched civilian vehicles arrived behind the burning husk of the troop transport. Dozens of Ethiopians were sprinting for the base, cutting through the chain-link fences with bolt cutters and setting guard towers aflame with Molotov cocktails. Ayasi became separated from his squad mates after the Ethiopian reinforcements arrived and began their shootings. He was not lost amidst a crowd of half-naked Arabs, running to their positions and loading their rifles. Ayasi tried to stop one, a very dark Kenyan with a buzz-cut and yellow teeth. "Hey! Buddy!" he called.
The Kenyan's head swiveled towards Ayasi, who was frantically running towards him. "Ye?"
"You seen a Palestinian guy? Staff Sergeant? Kinda short?" Ayasi asked as he caught his breath.
"Palestinian? Naw, man. Look, I gotta get to my squad. Find him on your own," the Kenyan replied to a disappointed Ayasi. The Kenyan took off running, and Ayasi watched him sprint towards a group of soldiers huddled behind oil barrels. But in the middle of the dusty ground, a bullet came and took the side of his head off.
Someone roared at the Ethiopians and began running forward wildly into the carnage with his M6 LMG on full-auto. A hail of bullets raced downrange, sending the Ethiopians diving for cover. A third man caught up with the gunner, and began dragging the Kenyan's body back to behind a barracks building. Ayasi watched the carnage unfold, with the fighting becoming more and more intense every second. Behind him, a Captain was frantically screeching into a radio: "Air support, for fuck's sake! Send some gunships for CASEVAC and suppression... Then tell Mogadishu to get off their asses and priori-... No, dammit, listen! The BC's been shot, and I can't find the XO..."
It was like hell on earth: tracer rounds were flying everywhere, screaming filled the air, and the wind swept the smoke and dust around in what seemed like a whirlwind of stinging black rocks. Ayasi covered his face as he was pelted with a gust of sandy wind. It was like sandpaper: it could sand the skin off of your bones in an actual sandstorm. But it seemed like that was what was coming. The Ethiopians had certainly picked a good time, tactically speaking, to breach Dagger's defenses and send a message to the Caliphate: this is what will happen if you stay in Ethiopia. Ayasi stood, dumbfounded in the midst of the carnage until he was snapped back to reality when someone shouted: "Get your ass back to cover, man!"
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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President Batry opened the e-mail and quickly read through it. He calls over his foreign adviser. "Hmm... Perhaps we can get a meeting between you two? It would be a good way to get world attention on our nation and a far better way than communicating over the internet." Yedil nodded and opened up a reply.
To: [email protected]
From: President [email protected]
This is quite a generous offer you have made. Perhaps we could meet somewhere in person to discuss the terms of our alliance? If you are comfortable with this please respond back with a location and a time. I look forward to your reply.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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From: [email protected]
To: President [email protected]
I would like to meet with you in person. We can meet in my office tomorrow July, 9, 2021. I shall have my Minister of Foreign Affairs attend our meeting. Fly to Beijing Capital International Airport and I will personally have a vehicle arranged for you. You will also have a runway open for you and a military guard for protection. Good day and see you tomorrow.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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Yedil read the E-Mail and picked up the phone. "Yes, I need the plane ready to fly within the next hour. We are flying to Beijing Capital International Airport." He hung the phone up and said, "Franz get your things. We are headed to Beijing soon."
Location: 9,000 feet near EAU-URCA border.
As the plane flew towards Beijing international, Yedil was dining on the fine meal he had arranged for him and Franz. "About how much longer was it to Beijing?" Franz looked over and suppressed a chuckle "That's the fifth time you've asked.. Are you ok Yedil?" Yedil laughed at that. "Yes I am fine. First time to Beijing and all. I guess I am having difficulty suppressing the inner explorer in me." Franz rolled his eyes and said, "Ah. After all these years you have yet to get all that out?" Yedil smiled. "No old friend I suppose not. It has been ages since I have been out of Kazakhstan and such... Ah well. We should be there in a few hours yes?" Franz nodded and continued eating, with a small smile playing across his face.
((It isn't about being good. If you think you're good at writing, you won't strive to be great at it.
And it isn't about natural talent- even someone who practices to become better at it will beat a naturally talented person.))
July 2021
To: [email protected]
From: PresidentLi@RSEA,gov
----------------------------------------------------
After an approved vote in the legislative office, we have decided to take action into allowing trade with each other's countries. We would offer you protection from hostile countries, and tariffs for URCA will be lowered by 4%.
The Legislative Office will have power to enforce this alliance to ensure it is done. We will wait for your reply.
----------------------------------------------------
The alliance was offered. This is what the government has been planning now. Instead of using military force to defend themselves, they would use diplomatic offers to nearby countries. Soon, they hoped, that if anyone dared set an attack on one country, they'll will be facing against all of Asia.
It was merely a dream to several cynics. They worried that the alliance will eventually betray RSEA, and soon a bloody war would start.
Bloody. That one word made people shiver.
Name of Country: The United Alliance Where the Country is: ((Some place that is not taken, preferably Southern africa)) Form of Government:Democracy National Language: ((The areas language) History: After most of the area was taken, the few of those people left formed together and took the area, finding weapons and military armor every so often. It was a poor alliance, but they still tried to defend their areas. Education: Males of the age of 21 were able to join the military if needed. Military Personel: 2000-5000 Religion: Christian Catholic. Country Population: ((Depending on where I am.) Around 50000 Rural - Urban Rating: 4 Suggestions: None, it is fine Other: Nah.
I am deeply sorry for not responding to your E-Mail sooner. I have been on a plane the past few hours. Your offer is quite gracious to our humble nation. We would like to accept the offer, and should you guarantee our protection, we feel it would only be fair to do so back. We would be glad to open trade between our two nations.
United Alliance is denied so hard he'll crack his head on the floor. Also, it's not August or July. My last post saying July 8 was a typo.
Firebase Dagger, Ogaden Ethiopia, Holy Islamic Caliphate June 8, 2021
The loudspeakers blared warnings as a heated firefight was underway at the motor pool of Firebase Dagger. The air was thick with smoke from an IED explosion at the gate, and gunfire came through everywhere and threatened to take heads off. Private First Class Ayasi was huddled behind a crate of cooking equipment next to an abandoned M12 HLV, engine still running and doors still open. He was with a few others: two UAE-nationals and a few Somalians. The Arabs manned an emplaced M9 GPMG set up on its tripod underneath the truck's bed, a line of ammunition crawling out of the receiver and stretching about two meters to the left. Most of the men were armed with rifles, but many had only a magazine or two. Few were even wearing clothes.
"Private!" one of the Arabs shouted. He was muscular and sported a mustache that made him look like a porn star. He was the assistant gunner, and wore an oven mitt over his right hand as a hasty measure for changing barrels on the machine gun. He had arranged a box of 7.62mm ammunition and two spare barrels next to his feet, and he lay prone with a pair of binoculars directed towards the north. Ayasi followed his call and jumped down next to him, gear rustling and shaking. "What's up?" he asked.
"I'm a Sergeant, son," the Arab clarified. He wore no rank insignia; only his boxers and a pair of flip-flops. A cigarette dangled out of the side of his mouth as he rolled over to talk to Ayasi.
"Sorry, Sergeant," Ayasi apologized. A moment later, the crack of a rifle was heard and a bullet whizzed over their impromptu machine gun nest. One of the Somalians laughed heartily and then threw a scathing insult at the Ethiopians.
"Eh, it's fine," the Sergeant replied with a cough. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled before putting it back in. Another exchange of gunfire sounded from across the empty motor pool. A squad of riflemen was pinned down behind a tractor, frantically trying to prevent the Ethiopians from breaching their position.
"But I need you to check out some potential targets. You have binocs?" he asked.
"Yeah," Ayasi muttered. "Dammit."
"What?"
"I think the quartermaster has them. I gave them back after I got back from patrol."
"You're gonna need to find them, then. They're gonna be helpful if we can hold this position long enough for evac."
"Do I go get them?" Ayasi asked nervously. He swiveled his head around to survey the area.
"Yup. I need you to grab as much stuff out of the armory as possible. Rifles, shotties, bullets, equipment... And spread the word, too. We gotta reinforce this point and drag wounded here. I want you back in ten minutes."
Ayasi nodded quickly, a grimace stretched across his face.
"And leave your stuff here as well. Take a mag or two extra, but I don't want you getting killed with a couple hundred rounds."
Ayasi nodded again. He reached to unbuckle his bandolier off of his body, and it dropped to the ground. The bandolier landed on the second Arab, who muttered something about how Pakistanis were retarded before shrugging the pack off. The Sergeant took it and forcefully placed it next to his ammo. "Ready?" he asked Ayasi. Ayasi nodded violently.
"Great... But first take the safety off before you go out into the open."
HCS Samuel, Mediterranean Sea June 8, 2021
"All flights: this is Striker Actual, launch of Striker 4-9 is authorized."
A haze had developed on the deck of the aircraft carrier, where several uniformed men in brightly colored vests performed their duties in the midst of a sea of grease, dirt, and sweat. The heat reached upwards of thirty-three degrees Celsius, which was compounded by the heavy BDUs and equipment the seamen wore. As soon as Striker Actual had issued his order, the crew began hoisting several F45C aircraft, the naval variant of the popular F45 multirole aircraft, up to the flight deck with some mechanized elevators. They were quickly maneuvered onto the EMALS that ran along the surface of the ship and locked in place to the catapult. Several seconds later, the electromagnetic linear motors launched the catapult towards the bow and literally flung the F45C into the distance.
Striker 4-9 was Striker 4's 9th combat patrol into Morocco. The carrier alternated patrols, giving units six hours to rest before heading out on a two-hour ride that consisted mostly of shooting at UAR personnel. On every flight a bomb had been dropped, and the total tally was officially at sixty-three land vehicles, fourteen occupied structures, and twelve patrol boats. Fighter pilots, being the cocky men they are, claimed that the kill rate was even higher. In this case, Striker 4-9 was to infiltrate into Algeria and destroy a previously untouched military airbase's runway that was launching strikes against civilians in Algiers. The aircraft were loaded down with runway cratering bombs and guided missiles to destroy hardened bunkers that held the aircraft. Luckily for them, they wouldn't get much resistance, as the fractured UAR government couldn't relay information to the base. The country had essentially broken down into a series of small warlords trying to assert dominance, and the Caliphate was doing all it could to prevent that.
The flight to the air base took a little under forty-five minutes. It was close to shore, and thus, close to the carrier. Its radar and SAM sites were not active due to a lack of prior warning, allowing the F45Cs to get in through the base's defenses without a scratch. The targets were identified by an Egyptian RQ-137V circling below, with the runway highlighted on the pilots' HMDs in a light blue perimeter. The bunkers were marked with yellow squares, while any aircraft suddenly scrambled would be marked in red to allow dedicated air-killers to eliminate them before they got off the ground. Striker 4-9 took their places in attack formation a few kilometers outside of the base, but something wasn't quite right. Anti-air guns were firing wildly into the sky, while there was a gathering of military vehicles on the runway.
As the pilots observed, gunfire was breaking out in the base. A horde of civilians was cramming their way into the base through the gate, some armed, some not. Striker 4-9 immediately realized that they couldn't drop their bombs, lest civilian casualties arrived. The leader of the patrol, a surly man bearing the rank of Lieutenant Commander, got onto the radio: "Striker Actual, this is Striker 4: we have a firefight between opposition units and UAR government forces. We cannot engage without civilian casualties."
A moment of static-filled silence enveloped the radio link as the planes flew in lazy circles around the base. Finally, Striker Actual returned.
"Got it, Striker 4... I see the drone's feed as well. They're closing in on the runways and a cratering bomb would throw up shrapnel to kill them. Disengage and look for a QRF. Bomb that and maybe the opposition will take the base for us."
"Copy, Striker Actual," the Lieutenant Commander affirmed. He switched over to the patrol channel: "Striker 4-9, this is lead element. Due to unforeseen circumstances at the base we're going to switch to hunting for a QRF that may be inbound to the base. We need to protect the opposition at all costs. They are our brothers. How copy, over?"
A cascade of affirmatives rolled throughout the channel. Satisfied, the Lieutenant Commander rolled his aircraft lazily to the left and gently increased speed to the perimeter of the base to switch to FLIR and scan for an approaching convoy. But as he completed his roll, he heard a young Ensign screech: "Missile lock!"
The patrol had gotten too complacent, and let the gunners below gain a lead on them. The Ensign tried ejecting chaff and initiating ECM procedures, throwing off the lock for a few moments. But he was inexperienced: he spammed the buttons until he was all out. And it was a different situation on the ground, with the patient gunners waiting for a clear shot. As the Lieutenant Commander frantically tried to get the F45Cs to get out, a heat signature flared from the base below and a missile streaked towards the Ensign's plane. The Ensign shouted into the channel and sped up drastically to try to evade. He managed to go a few hundred meters forward before the much-faster missile caught up.
The Ensign's plane was hit in the tail, vaporizing the end section and thrusting the plane into an uncontrolled spasm of a fall. Striker Actual roared an eject order at the ensign, and the Lieutenant Commander watched as the canopy was blown off by the ejection protocol. But the fall of the aircraft was too much, and the Ensign's chair was rocketing out too quickly. The Ensign hit the edge of the canopy at speeds of well over 200kph. The blunt force trauma shattered his ribcage, killing him instantly and sending the ejection seat spiraling towards the ground at terminal velocity. The flaming plane continued its frenzied crash until it came to a stop in a soccer field at a nearby village. The ejection seat containing what was left of the Ensign's mangled body would be later found by Muslim rebels and given a respectful burial.
((Lemon, I believe you have too much aircraft carriers. Most countries have zero of them in service, and you must be EXTREMELY developed to even have one, let alone two. US is the only one with ten.
I think it's better if you put it down to one.))
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
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June 8, 2021
Beijing Capital International Airport:
Situ Qin was waiting inside the terminal at the airport for President Batry to arrive. He was surrounded by an ocean of reporters waiting for the meeting of the two leaders. Batry's plane had been given military escort the second it crossed over into the EAU and the escort reported 5 miles to destination before pulling off and returning to base. As Situ stared out of the window, he heard a reporter yell"The plane! I see it!" He swiveled his head toward where the reporter was pointing. His eyes were met with the sight of a small private jet landing on the open runway. He watched as two men got out and walked to the entrance for the terminal. He waited in suspense as President Batry walked in. The two men greeted each other with a firm handshake. Then the reporters pounced. "President Batry, how do you like Beijing" and "Mr. President, what is your impression of our country?" Situ then asked Batry if he would like to leave and get to his office so that they may get down to business.
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"That would be perfectly fine." Batry followed Situ while waving and smiling at the reporters gathered around to see the two leaders together.
Location: Turkmenistan-URCA
Achmed opened the door to the rear of the coffee house and walked in. A flag of the Turkmenistan republic hung on the wall. The room itself was run down looking ad old. Turkmenistan was the poorest region in the URCA. It wasn't the governments fault, but a region wide gang. They intimidated business owners as civilians into surrendering money ad possessions so that they might be "protected". In reality the gang sold the possessions ad bought black market weaponry for their members. Several people had had enough. The gang did well to keep itself off the news and out of the public eye. This would both prove to be a good thing for the gang, and a bad thing for the group that was forming to get rid of it.
Achmed walked down into the basement where about 20 others were. Everyone silenced an looked at him. He took a breath and... "My fellow citizens. We have been too long oppressed by this gang of thugs called, "Allahs Retribution". It is time we take a stand. It is time we fight back! They have us so frightened of them that those who run into them do not report them. They even have the police by they balls as they say. Well today we organize a resistance. I have friends all over Turkmenistan organizing different cells to combat the "Retributionists". Today... TODAY WE MAKE OUR STAND!
Those gathered cheered loudly enough that customers heard a faint roar from beneath them. None cared to say anything about it though.
Achmed was left with his words echoing in his head and smiled. 'Today things will change' he thought...
From: [email protected]
The EAU is open to trade with all nations. We would love to establish trade relations with you. Your nation has many ores and fuels that are valuable to my country. We have farms and the agricultural products they produce. However, I would like to go a step further. I think it may be a good idea to see a military alliance between our nations. I will await a response from you. Good day and thank you for your offer.
July 8, 2021
The concrete-brick buildings of Firebase Dagger shook violently from the impact of the blast. At the front gate of the base, a huge plume of smoke could be seen rising from the front entrance of the base. Soldiers scurried around in an unorganized fashion: most not even wearing clothes, save for boxers and undershirts. Private First Class Nader Ayasi was one of them, clutching his assault rifle and holding his unbuckled helmet to his head as he strode behind a stack of crates wearing only some tennis shoes and BDU pants. A bandolier of magazines was sloped around his bare chest, bouncing around without a hand to secure it. Rampant firing could be heard relatively close-by, with Ayasi flinching every time a shot rang out from nearby. He was heading to find his squad leader: Staff Sergeant al-Suhav, a Palestinian with a knack for being a hard-ass.
Ayasi continued running by the dug-in concrete barracks buildings while looking for his comrades. Soldiers streamed out left and right, while the chattering of automatic fire was getting closer. The sun beat down on the base, which was stranded in the middle of the desert with no civilization visible for dozens of kilometers in every direction. An artillery unit was housed there as a support function for border defense, and now the multimillion riyal pieces of equipment were in serious danger. According to what Ayasi had heard from a hyperventilating Corporal, two M113 trucks had driven up to the gate around five minutes ago. One promptly exploded, killing four armed guards and sending shrapnel downrange wounding another thirteen. The second truck's doors then opened, revealing about six Ethiopian nationals, clad in masks and armed with PKM machine guns. They began finishing off whoever survived the first explosion, sending the survivors running for cover.
An alert had gone out, sending the troops scrambling to positions as what seemed like a whole fleet of mismatched civilian vehicles arrived behind the burning husk of the troop transport. Dozens of Ethiopians were sprinting for the base, cutting through the chain-link fences with bolt cutters and setting guard towers aflame with Molotov cocktails. Ayasi became separated from his squad mates after the Ethiopian reinforcements arrived and began their shootings. He was not lost amidst a crowd of half-naked Arabs, running to their positions and loading their rifles. Ayasi tried to stop one, a very dark Kenyan with a buzz-cut and yellow teeth. "Hey! Buddy!" he called.
The Kenyan's head swiveled towards Ayasi, who was frantically running towards him. "Ye?"
"You seen a Palestinian guy? Staff Sergeant? Kinda short?" Ayasi asked as he caught his breath.
"Palestinian? Naw, man. Look, I gotta get to my squad. Find him on your own," the Kenyan replied to a disappointed Ayasi. The Kenyan took off running, and Ayasi watched him sprint towards a group of soldiers huddled behind oil barrels. But in the middle of the dusty ground, a bullet came and took the side of his head off.
Someone roared at the Ethiopians and began running forward wildly into the carnage with his M6 LMG on full-auto. A hail of bullets raced downrange, sending the Ethiopians diving for cover. A third man caught up with the gunner, and began dragging the Kenyan's body back to behind a barracks building. Ayasi watched the carnage unfold, with the fighting becoming more and more intense every second. Behind him, a Captain was frantically screeching into a radio: "Air support, for fuck's sake! Send some gunships for CASEVAC and suppression... Then tell Mogadishu to get off their asses and priori-... No, dammit, listen! The BC's been shot, and I can't find the XO..."
It was like hell on earth: tracer rounds were flying everywhere, screaming filled the air, and the wind swept the smoke and dust around in what seemed like a whirlwind of stinging black rocks. Ayasi covered his face as he was pelted with a gust of sandy wind. It was like sandpaper: it could sand the skin off of your bones in an actual sandstorm. But it seemed like that was what was coming. The Ethiopians had certainly picked a good time, tactically speaking, to breach Dagger's defenses and send a message to the Caliphate: this is what will happen if you stay in Ethiopia. Ayasi stood, dumbfounded in the midst of the carnage until he was snapped back to reality when someone shouted: "Get your ass back to cover, man!"
To: [email protected]
From: President [email protected]
This is quite a generous offer you have made. Perhaps we could meet somewhere in person to discuss the terms of our alliance? If you are comfortable with this please respond back with a location and a time. I look forward to your reply.
To: President [email protected]
I would like to meet with you in person. We can meet in my office tomorrow July, 9, 2021. I shall have my Minister of Foreign Affairs attend our meeting. Fly to Beijing Capital International Airport and I will personally have a vehicle arranged for you. You will also have a runway open for you and a military guard for protection. Good day and see you tomorrow.
Location: 9,000 feet near EAU-URCA border.
As the plane flew towards Beijing international, Yedil was dining on the fine meal he had arranged for him and Franz. "About how much longer was it to Beijing?" Franz looked over and suppressed a chuckle "That's the fifth time you've asked.. Are you ok Yedil?" Yedil laughed at that. "Yes I am fine. First time to Beijing and all. I guess I am having difficulty suppressing the inner explorer in me." Franz rolled his eyes and said, "Ah. After all these years you have yet to get all that out?" Yedil smiled. "No old friend I suppose not. It has been ages since I have been out of Kazakhstan and such... Ah well. We should be there in a few hours yes?" Franz nodded and continued eating, with a small smile playing across his face.
((It isn't about being good. If you think you're good at writing, you won't strive to be great at it.
And it isn't about natural talent- even someone who practices to become better at it will beat a naturally talented person.))
July 2021
To: [email protected]
From: PresidentLi@RSEA,gov
----------------------------------------------------
After an approved vote in the legislative office, we have decided to take action into allowing trade with each other's countries. We would offer you protection from hostile countries, and tariffs for URCA will be lowered by 4%.
The Legislative Office will have power to enforce this alliance to ensure it is done. We will wait for your reply.
----------------------------------------------------
The alliance was offered. This is what the government has been planning now. Instead of using military force to defend themselves, they would use diplomatic offers to nearby countries. Soon, they hoped, that if anyone dared set an attack on one country, they'll will be facing against all of Asia.
It was merely a dream to several cynics. They worried that the alliance will eventually betray RSEA, and soon a bloody war would start.
Bloody. That one word made people shiver.
Where the Country is: ((Some place that is not taken, preferably Southern africa))
Form of Government:Democracy
National Language: ((The areas language)
History: After most of the area was taken, the few of those people left formed together and took the area, finding weapons and military armor every so often. It was a poor alliance, but they still tried to defend their areas.
Education: Males of the age of 21 were able to join the military if needed.
Military Personel: 2000-5000
Religion: Christian Catholic.
Country Population: ((Depending on where I am.) Around 50000
Rural - Urban Rating: 4
Suggestions: None, it is fine
Other: Nah.
From: [email protected]
I am deeply sorry for not responding to your E-Mail sooner. I have been on a plane the past few hours. Your offer is quite gracious to our humble nation. We would like to accept the offer, and should you guarantee our protection, we feel it would only be fair to do so back. We would be glad to open trade between our two nations.
Firebase Dagger, Ogaden Ethiopia, Holy Islamic Caliphate
June 8, 2021
The loudspeakers blared warnings as a heated firefight was underway at the motor pool of Firebase Dagger. The air was thick with smoke from an IED explosion at the gate, and gunfire came through everywhere and threatened to take heads off. Private First Class Ayasi was huddled behind a crate of cooking equipment next to an abandoned M12 HLV, engine still running and doors still open. He was with a few others: two UAE-nationals and a few Somalians. The Arabs manned an emplaced M9 GPMG set up on its tripod underneath the truck's bed, a line of ammunition crawling out of the receiver and stretching about two meters to the left. Most of the men were armed with rifles, but many had only a magazine or two. Few were even wearing clothes.
"Private!" one of the Arabs shouted. He was muscular and sported a mustache that made him look like a porn star. He was the assistant gunner, and wore an oven mitt over his right hand as a hasty measure for changing barrels on the machine gun. He had arranged a box of 7.62mm ammunition and two spare barrels next to his feet, and he lay prone with a pair of binoculars directed towards the north. Ayasi followed his call and jumped down next to him, gear rustling and shaking. "What's up?" he asked.
"I'm a Sergeant, son," the Arab clarified. He wore no rank insignia; only his boxers and a pair of flip-flops. A cigarette dangled out of the side of his mouth as he rolled over to talk to Ayasi.
"Sorry, Sergeant," Ayasi apologized. A moment later, the crack of a rifle was heard and a bullet whizzed over their impromptu machine gun nest. One of the Somalians laughed heartily and then threw a scathing insult at the Ethiopians.
"Eh, it's fine," the Sergeant replied with a cough. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled before putting it back in. Another exchange of gunfire sounded from across the empty motor pool. A squad of riflemen was pinned down behind a tractor, frantically trying to prevent the Ethiopians from breaching their position.
"But I need you to check out some potential targets. You have binocs?" he asked.
"Yeah," Ayasi muttered. "Dammit."
"What?"
"I think the quartermaster has them. I gave them back after I got back from patrol."
"You're gonna need to find them, then. They're gonna be helpful if we can hold this position long enough for evac."
"Do I go get them?" Ayasi asked nervously. He swiveled his head around to survey the area.
"Yup. I need you to grab as much stuff out of the armory as possible. Rifles, shotties, bullets, equipment... And spread the word, too. We gotta reinforce this point and drag wounded here. I want you back in ten minutes."
Ayasi nodded quickly, a grimace stretched across his face.
"And leave your stuff here as well. Take a mag or two extra, but I don't want you getting killed with a couple hundred rounds."
Ayasi nodded again. He reached to unbuckle his bandolier off of his body, and it dropped to the ground. The bandolier landed on the second Arab, who muttered something about how Pakistanis were retarded before shrugging the pack off. The Sergeant took it and forcefully placed it next to his ammo. "Ready?" he asked Ayasi. Ayasi nodded violently.
"Great... But first take the safety off before you go out into the open."
HCS Samuel, Mediterranean Sea
June 8, 2021
"All flights: this is Striker Actual, launch of Striker 4-9 is authorized."
A haze had developed on the deck of the aircraft carrier, where several uniformed men in brightly colored vests performed their duties in the midst of a sea of grease, dirt, and sweat. The heat reached upwards of thirty-three degrees Celsius, which was compounded by the heavy BDUs and equipment the seamen wore. As soon as Striker Actual had issued his order, the crew began hoisting several F45C aircraft, the naval variant of the popular F45 multirole aircraft, up to the flight deck with some mechanized elevators. They were quickly maneuvered onto the EMALS that ran along the surface of the ship and locked in place to the catapult. Several seconds later, the electromagnetic linear motors launched the catapult towards the bow and literally flung the F45C into the distance.
Striker 4-9 was Striker 4's 9th combat patrol into Morocco. The carrier alternated patrols, giving units six hours to rest before heading out on a two-hour ride that consisted mostly of shooting at UAR personnel. On every flight a bomb had been dropped, and the total tally was officially at sixty-three land vehicles, fourteen occupied structures, and twelve patrol boats. Fighter pilots, being the cocky men they are, claimed that the kill rate was even higher. In this case, Striker 4-9 was to infiltrate into Algeria and destroy a previously untouched military airbase's runway that was launching strikes against civilians in Algiers. The aircraft were loaded down with runway cratering bombs and guided missiles to destroy hardened bunkers that held the aircraft. Luckily for them, they wouldn't get much resistance, as the fractured UAR government couldn't relay information to the base. The country had essentially broken down into a series of small warlords trying to assert dominance, and the Caliphate was doing all it could to prevent that.
The flight to the air base took a little under forty-five minutes. It was close to shore, and thus, close to the carrier. Its radar and SAM sites were not active due to a lack of prior warning, allowing the F45Cs to get in through the base's defenses without a scratch. The targets were identified by an Egyptian RQ-137V circling below, with the runway highlighted on the pilots' HMDs in a light blue perimeter. The bunkers were marked with yellow squares, while any aircraft suddenly scrambled would be marked in red to allow dedicated air-killers to eliminate them before they got off the ground. Striker 4-9 took their places in attack formation a few kilometers outside of the base, but something wasn't quite right. Anti-air guns were firing wildly into the sky, while there was a gathering of military vehicles on the runway.
As the pilots observed, gunfire was breaking out in the base. A horde of civilians was cramming their way into the base through the gate, some armed, some not. Striker 4-9 immediately realized that they couldn't drop their bombs, lest civilian casualties arrived. The leader of the patrol, a surly man bearing the rank of Lieutenant Commander, got onto the radio: "Striker Actual, this is Striker 4: we have a firefight between opposition units and UAR government forces. We cannot engage without civilian casualties."
A moment of static-filled silence enveloped the radio link as the planes flew in lazy circles around the base. Finally, Striker Actual returned.
"Got it, Striker 4... I see the drone's feed as well. They're closing in on the runways and a cratering bomb would throw up shrapnel to kill them. Disengage and look for a QRF. Bomb that and maybe the opposition will take the base for us."
"Copy, Striker Actual," the Lieutenant Commander affirmed. He switched over to the patrol channel: "Striker 4-9, this is lead element. Due to unforeseen circumstances at the base we're going to switch to hunting for a QRF that may be inbound to the base. We need to protect the opposition at all costs. They are our brothers. How copy, over?"
A cascade of affirmatives rolled throughout the channel. Satisfied, the Lieutenant Commander rolled his aircraft lazily to the left and gently increased speed to the perimeter of the base to switch to FLIR and scan for an approaching convoy. But as he completed his roll, he heard a young Ensign screech: "Missile lock!"
The patrol had gotten too complacent, and let the gunners below gain a lead on them. The Ensign tried ejecting chaff and initiating ECM procedures, throwing off the lock for a few moments. But he was inexperienced: he spammed the buttons until he was all out. And it was a different situation on the ground, with the patient gunners waiting for a clear shot. As the Lieutenant Commander frantically tried to get the F45Cs to get out, a heat signature flared from the base below and a missile streaked towards the Ensign's plane. The Ensign shouted into the channel and sped up drastically to try to evade. He managed to go a few hundred meters forward before the much-faster missile caught up.
The Ensign's plane was hit in the tail, vaporizing the end section and thrusting the plane into an uncontrolled spasm of a fall. Striker Actual roared an eject order at the ensign, and the Lieutenant Commander watched as the canopy was blown off by the ejection protocol. But the fall of the aircraft was too much, and the Ensign's chair was rocketing out too quickly. The Ensign hit the edge of the canopy at speeds of well over 200kph. The blunt force trauma shattered his ribcage, killing him instantly and sending the ejection seat spiraling towards the ground at terminal velocity. The flaming plane continued its frenzied crash until it came to a stop in a soccer field at a nearby village. The ejection seat containing what was left of the Ensign's mangled body would be later found by Muslim rebels and given a respectful burial.
I think it's better if you put it down to one.))
Beijing Capital International Airport:
Situ Qin was waiting inside the terminal at the airport for President Batry to arrive. He was surrounded by an ocean of reporters waiting for the meeting of the two leaders. Batry's plane had been given military escort the second it crossed over into the EAU and the escort reported 5 miles to destination before pulling off and returning to base. As Situ stared out of the window, he heard a reporter yell"The plane! I see it!" He swiveled his head toward where the reporter was pointing. His eyes were met with the sight of a small private jet landing on the open runway. He watched as two men got out and walked to the entrance for the terminal. He waited in suspense as President Batry walked in. The two men greeted each other with a firm handshake. Then the reporters pounced. "President Batry, how do you like Beijing" and "Mr. President, what is your impression of our country?" Situ then asked Batry if he would like to leave and get to his office so that they may get down to business.
Location: Turkmenistan-URCA
Achmed opened the door to the rear of the coffee house and walked in. A flag of the Turkmenistan republic hung on the wall. The room itself was run down looking ad old. Turkmenistan was the poorest region in the URCA. It wasn't the governments fault, but a region wide gang. They intimidated business owners as civilians into surrendering money ad possessions so that they might be "protected". In reality the gang sold the possessions ad bought black market weaponry for their members. Several people had had enough. The gang did well to keep itself off the news and out of the public eye. This would both prove to be a good thing for the gang, and a bad thing for the group that was forming to get rid of it.
Achmed walked down into the basement where about 20 others were. Everyone silenced an looked at him. He took a breath and... "My fellow citizens. We have been too long oppressed by this gang of thugs called, "Allahs Retribution". It is time we take a stand. It is time we fight back! They have us so frightened of them that those who run into them do not report them. They even have the police by they balls as they say. Well today we organize a resistance. I have friends all over Turkmenistan organizing different cells to combat the "Retributionists". Today... TODAY WE MAKE OUR STAND!
Those gathered cheered loudly enough that customers heard a faint roar from beneath them. None cared to say anything about it though.
Achmed was left with his words echoing in his head and smiled. 'Today things will change' he thought...