Note: This story is about an end of the industrial age Facist Scandanavia, and is seen through the eyes of a soldier in the 14th infantry army.

The year is 1670. After a long and bloody war, The Scandanavaians and The Mayans drive the Spanish off the Mayan Homeland. With promises of eternal friendship, the two countrys leve each other to their own affairs. Ten years later, at the bidding of the Sumerians, The Mayans launch an assault on their allies, and invade Scandanvaian controlled Egypt and and Carthage. In Egypt the war becomes a stalemate, while in the freezing forests of Carthage, the Mayans advance relentlessly towards resource rich cities. Ragnar, Facist leader of Scandanavia, knowing that their war effort could be undermined if Carthage falls, sends the elite 14th infantry army to hold the enemy at Carthage. He orders them to use bullets, clubs, even bricks, to beat back th enemy invader. In Carthage, their could be no retreat.

I shifted, bringing my bolt-action rifle to bear. The men behind me had heard it too. Tank treads. We knew our comfortable stay in the city of Carthage was about to end. We rushed to the trench lines, some of us pulling out small axes' in reverance to our berserker ancesters. Mayan tanks rumbled out of a small forest, fast approaching the woods that we had fortified. Some of our bombers flew over our heads and dropped bombs, destroying some of the myan tanks, but behind them came infantry and cavalry, hundreds of them. bullet fire erupted across the line. cavalry charged us and were mowed down en masse, their horses unused to the snow. I aimed my rifle slowly but easily. I had my target picked out. He was a cavalry man who appeared to be trying to rally the horsemen, tanks and infantry. I pulled the trigger, my rifle barked, and his head snapped back. I methodically worked the bolt-action mechanism and picked another target. He too died. I went through the process three more times before i reloaded the rifle. I felt no sympathy for these traitors. Behind us, new Scandanavian tanks rolled onto the field, firing first at the tanks, then at massed groups of horsemen and infantry. The men of the 14th cheered and fired, not caring if this was but a small force, not caring that a force almost three times our size was fast approaching. All that mattered then was that we had stopped the enemy first, and we knew we would do it again.

I know thats kind of strange, and i'll continue to add more if it gets decent review.

kooooooooool

At the moment this is just kind of a test. I'll add more later. And the name, well, its named after what the Soviets called WWII. I just kind of liked it. thanks secretninja

yeah yeah keep going i'll follow

Keep going. It is very good. I love the first person view. ;)

Me too. I like cool stories. Are you going to have pictures/screenshots?

Pics n shots are a must! I demand those for such a cool story :lol:

I'll be following :)

cmon post again soon its good

Eventually the men of the 14th infantry army were driven into the city of Carthage, closely followed by the traitorus Myans. The armies split into small groups, each fighting their own private war for survival. Knowing this cannot last, that such a battle would destroy the 14th, Ragnar orders 2,000 men of the 14th to rally at the outskirts of the industrial works in Carthage. The most vicious battle in the fight for Carthage is about to begin.

I checked the clip to my stolen myan smg, not out of need, but out of habit. I was anxious. For one year i had hunted myans in this city, but in the end I knew what i was doing would do very little. But this, this was different. I looked around me. hiding behind rubble on both sides of the street were 2,000 of my comrades.
"Our goal today comrades is not victory. Is it vengeance! For the people! For Ragnar! And for Scandanavia! Attack!" Our commanding officer yelled. We let out a blood curdling scream, and charged. Our support tanks followed, firing down the street. I ran faster than i had ever run in my entire life. We came upon a pile of bricks, and from behind it the Myans fired on us. The first several men in our front ranks fell, but our blood was boiling, our rage mounted. I ran up the brick pile, and fired my smg, the rounds tearing into the myan traitor. I didn't stop. Still yelling we charged through the blood soaked snow, towards some of the factorys. Myan rifle fire increased, and some of us took cover, but only some. My self and twelve others kicked open the door to a small building, and hurled grenades inside. screams followed the explosion. I ran in and shot the wounded, having no care for them or their lives.
Our tanks rumbled over the brick pile and into the main area of fighting. The lead tank fired into a large building, blowing a hole in the wall, and scandanvian troops charged into the breach with smgs, rifles with bayonets, and even berserker battle axes. MG fire increased further down the street, raking the tanks, but it did nothing. The turrets swivled and fired, killing the machine gunners.
I ran out of the building, throwing my empty smg magazine onto the frozen ground. I loaded quickly, and moved into a a large crater hole. The myans began to put up a stiff resistance, but our momentum was to great. I crawled up the side of the crater, and found a firing position. aiming carefully, i fired a burst at a myan sniper in a building 40 yards away. His body jerked spasmodically, and he fell back, out of sight. I scrambled out of the crater, smg blazing. artillery began to fall, but still we went on. I came to another crater, and prepared to jump in to last out the barrage. I froze. A boy who couldn't have been older than fourteen sat in the hole. He was wearing a myan uniform. He looked up, stubborn defiance in his eyes. He began to reach for his rifle. I pointed my smg and fired a full clip into him. i moved into the crater, several other men following me. One of them spat on the body in the hole. "Blasted traitor!" He yelled, his voice thick with scandanavian accent. He pulled out a small fighting axe and hacked the body before pulling it out of trench and throwing it towards th tretreating Myans. I watched, not feeling anything. Not rage, pity, nothing. I was completely callous. Turning, I crawled up the side of the crater and looked down the street. Myan infantry were giving ground in the street, but held out stubbornly in the buildings. I started to sink back into the hole when i heard something. A thrumming kind of sound. All the men in the crater looked up, hearing the sound as well as I did. In the air flew Myan bombers. We watched, our faces showing our outrage. We knew what was about to happen. The planes dropped their payload onto the front wave troops, killing almost all of them. But, our more immediate concern was only beginning to become obivous. We could here Myan tank treads. we still had 1,700 men, and almost twenty tanks, but we knew what that sound meant. They were coming back. Several Myan tanks rumbled across the corner, turrets flashing as if in outrage to out attack. Our tanks answered in what became a rain of metal. The attack had been stalled, but only temporarly. Myan infantry moved in behind the tanks, hoping to take back lost ground. We crushed their hopes when their last tank was destoyed. "Give them some steel!" I yelled, and again we charged, weapons blazing. Our two forces hit like a wave. I emptied my clip and pulled out my axe, chopping into the first Myan who tried to stop me. I pulled the weapon out, blood spraying from a wound which was already freezing over. I ran on, and swung my axe at the next Myan, who parried with his rifle. I grabbed the rifle with my left hand, and hacked into the myan's stomach. I pulled it out, and we both fell to the ground, him dying, and myself chopping. Nothing else mattered except hitting the body, and I cut into it again and again. I felt some one start shaking me. "Hey buddy! He's dead! They're gone." I looked around. The myans were indeed gone, but not in permanent retreat The ground was covered with bodies, mostly myans, but with many scandanavians. I gave a hollow laugh at the poitnless of it all. Every day would be like this i knew, until they were out of the industrial section, out of the city, out of the continent. "Hey buddy, you ok?" The man asked. "Yea. I'm ok." I answered. He slapped my back. "We got em on the run now. Bet you we'll be ome by christmas. Oh by the way, the names Wallace." He grinned, and it took me a second to realize he wanted mine. "Leif." I answered. He nodded, and looked around. "Mark my words Leif, home by Christmas." I grinned, and walked towards the fighting, putting my hatchet into my belt, and picking up another smg. Wallace follwed, talking like we were old friends. It was strange to think that only a few hundred yards north their was a battle going on. Naturally, thats where we went.

On this one i tried to show a more human side to the narrator. Thats why Wallace is in it. Just explaining. Oh and about screen shots, well... my idiot little brother deleated my scandanavian file. My apoligies to those who were looking forward to one.

Oh well it's still a good read though :)

Is this influenced in any way by Call of Duty or Medal of Honor? Just wondering, great read, can't wait for more.

Whats this things ratings so far? Just curious.

I just took the most realistic looking parts from war games/ movies i've watched to get some realism (Naturally i haven't yet fought in a city for a year) Ok, next part.
1671- The Fight in Egypt has ended. Knowing that it is now important to drive the Mayans off Carthage, Ragnar orders almost all the units that fought in Egypt to the Carthaginian front. He and his military planners come up with a plan to land the Egyptian troops a mile away from the city of Carthage, then have them move in to link up with the 14th infantry army, and the 2nd armored corps, the two major forces fighting in the colony. However, for this plan to work, the weakend 14th infantry army must destroy the Mayan troops trapped in Carthage, the ones Smoke Jaguar had forbidden to retreat. Quietly, troops are shifted from the industrial section to Vidofnir, the hill that housed the Facist governers. The Mayans have set up a series of bunkers and trenchs on the hill. The city can not be retaken unless the Mayans are driven off the hill once and for all.
We had moved into the buildings surrounding the hill with little resistance. I guess the Mayans were holding the hill only, deeming the surrounding area useless. Fow weeks we rallied at those buildings, watching that hill. Our numbers grew to almost 5,000. Thus, it was no suprise when we were orderd to attack the hill at dawn. Tanks moved into position, and those of us who had radios got firing quordnates. A general sense of grim happiness filled the camp. Our time had come.
I crouched, attempting to stay out of view. I, like Wallace and thousands of my comrades, where waiting for the order to charge out of the buildings. "Soldiers of The Glorious Scandanavian Army! It is now either victory, or death! Those who reatreat will be shot. Once you charge, that hill will have only one slope. There will be no mercy for cowards and traitors!" Our CO looked around, making one final look to see if everything was ready. "Remember this!" He yelled. "We fight today for the glory of our party, our Nation, our great country! Death to the Mayan Invaders!" "Death to the Mayan invaders!" We all roared in response. He blew the whistle.
Our charge was swift. Yelling, like all of my comrades, I charged, rifle raised and bayonet attached. Our tanks moved in behind us, firing to give us some type of cover. Tankborne infantry fired their weapons as well, which included smgs and anti armor rockets. Mayan artillery and MG fire fell into us, and we fell by the score. But still we moved on. I never paused to fire the rifle, knowing if I did i would die. Soon, i made the trench line.
I lept in, firing the rifle right into the face of a myan soldier. A scandanavian bearing an LMG stood at the top of the trench and hosed the section, killing myans as if he were cutting down wheat. I worked the bolt-action mechanism and fired up towards the second row of bunkers. The LMG gunner set up beside me, and fired towards the second trench line. Again Mayan artillery fire found us, and their snipers began to take their toll. Suddenly, I was on the ground. Things were blurry, and I could hardly hear. Slowly I looked around. The LMG gunner's torn body lay next to me. A Mayan aritllery shell landed right in front of him. I got up, and the effect wore off. I raised the rifle and fired wildly, simply shoving clips into it when ever it was empty.
The tanks had caught up, and so again we rose out of the trench. The Mayans raked their MG fire across our lines constantly, and many of us were cut down as we resumed our charge. The Mayans must have had good artillery men- they kept the srtillery with us and moving at the exact same rate. I ran, rifle in front, bayonet pointing towards our enemy. Within hellish minutes, we made the second trench line. We threw grenades this time- we couldn't afford another trench fight- and ran in, shooting the surviving defenders. Only one trench line was left. The one surrounding the MG bunker, the one that had claimed hundreds of men on just my side of the slope.
The tank borne infantry had dismounted and were with us now. One cockily tapped my arm and yelled, "Hey, watch this!" He raised an anti tank weapon with a huge explosive rocket fixed on the front. He squezzed the handle, and watched with a grin as the rocket blew into the bunker, blowing a huge hole in the wall. We charged for the breach, and enemy small arms fire increased, tearing into our ranks. Yet still we moved, and made the small final trench line surrounding the bunker. I jumped into the trench, using the weight of my fall to drive the bayonet into a mayan infantryman. I did not halt. I simply withdrew the bayonet and scrambled out of the trench towards the bunker. My comrades did the same. It was a small bunker, only capable of holding ten men at most. But the Mayans, stubborn to the end had set up an MG in front of the hole. Almost fifty of us were cut down before the gunner was shot. After that it was a slaughter. We carved the bodys, hacked them, shot them anything we could. Then it was over. Suddenly, simply, over. I looked around, and walked out of the bunker, moving around, to survey the battlefield. On all sides The bodies of my comrades covered the ground. Later i would learn 3,000 scandanavians died in the battle. I turned, taking in every detail. I looked back at the bunker to see a scandanavian flag flying over the hill. A single plane flew over head, and we started cheering, waving our wool caps at the plane. The battle for the city of Carthage was closing down.
Epilouge: A week later, the Egyptian veterns marched into the city. The 14th infantry army was awarded the Order of the Red Sword, the highest honor an army in Scandanavia could recieve. They were reinforced, resupllied, and reprepared. Almost 25,000 out of 65,000 men had died in the battle for the ciy of Carthage. The men of the 14th were loaded onto trucks, and were immediatly sent off to the front again. This time, to a place called Sidi Bou Zid.

Is there More?

Yea. I'll work on the rest later. It gonna continue all the way up to the end of the war.

It gonna continue all the way up to the end of the war.

Yeaaayy~ :dance: :banana:

Flushed with the success of the battle for Carthage, Scandanavian troops pursue the Mayans across the tundra. The Scandanavian 26th infantry division captures and holds the small village of Sidi Bou zid, called 'the key to carthage'. The town was located in front of the only pass in the Carthaginian alps, making it as vital now as it was in the Stone Age. However, Mayan tanks attacked and took the pass. Infuriated, Ragnar sends the 2nd armored corps, the 14th infantry army and the 375th Egyptian artillery, his only reserve forces, to recapture the pass and Sidi Bou Zid.
I had never ridden on a tank before. At Carthage, tanks had drawn alot of attention, so we tried to keep away from them. Sitting on the turret, Wallace was telling some replacements about how the legendary 14th had held against a vicious enemy at Carthage. Like always, he greatly exaggerated, and the replacements believed it. I gave a quiet laugh and leand back, resting the brand new scandanavian A-1 semi-automatic rifle across my lap. "Hey wallace, why are going here again?" one of the men asked. "I told you. The 26th got their asses handed to them by Smoke Jaguar and his dammned tanks. for some reason they pulled out afterwords. The boss wants us to take the pass back, this time for keeps." He looked around. We had just entered the pass, and already we were running into the 26th. Thankfully, they hadn't been routed, but had simply reached the entrance of the pass and entrenched. The 26th infantry division guys looked at us like we were some kind of gods. It made me sick because i knew they were glad we going to take their job.
The 2nd armored corps rolled past the defenses, moving deeper into the pass. Naturally, we didn't like the enviorment. The enemy could look right down our throats. The snow capped hills were massive and foreboding.
A massive explosion sounded from the front. I, like everyone else, jumped off the tanks, moving for an irrigation ditch at the side of the road. "Anybody see where that was?" Someone called form further down the line. For several minutes, it was quiet. As I looked to the side, the throat of the man next to me exploded. A sniper had shot him. Rifle fire started furiously. "Move forward!" An officer yelled. We didn't budge. "Move forward or you will be shot!" He yelled again. We charged for the front. The pass opened up greatly, and we were partially shocked to see the Mayans charging us right in the open. Partially. I raised my rifle and fired several times, bringing down for than one Mayan. One tank moved forward, and was almost immedialty destroyed. "They got anti-tank guns!" More than one man yelled, and in truth, I was amazed. AT guns took a long time to set up. We scythed Mayans down with rifle fire, and began to advance. I took adavantage of the improved rate of fire and fired a stream of lead towards the enemy. Then we charged. Mayan infantry fired on us and fixed bayonets, copying our move. Our lines smashed into each other, men firing into each other's faces.
The Mayan in front of me thrust, and I could only just parry his stab. I closed the distance and smashed my rifle butt into his face, splaying his nose across his cheek. I smashed it into his face again, and a third time. As he fell to the ground I fired a round into his head. The area around me was somewhat clear of enemies, so I took aim and fired again and again. They're line began to bend, then it shattered. We broke through them, and made for the AT guns. Myself, Wallace, and several others made it to the guns and hurled grenades. The gunners were killed, and we swarmed over the guns. Even better, the Egyptian artillery began to rain steel of the enemy with unbelievable accuracy. Our tanks came out of the pass as the guns were taken and began to fire their turrets on the Mayans. They were routed. We pursued them for a little bit, then turned around, our strides filled with cockiness. And with a right to be. Later we would find out this was one of the best divisions the Mayans had in Carthage, and we had gutted them. If only we had known what Sidi bou Zid would be like.

This is Call of Duty 2: Big Red One no doubt

This latest story is the Kasserine Pass mission. And the one before this with "Death to the Mayan invader" was from the other version of Call of Duty 2 which was "Death to the German invader"...just for people who didn't know

It's not an exact copy, he was just influenced. I find his story a lot better the the Video games. And every country who is being invaded will ussually say "Death to the _______ invader!"

And every country who is being invaded will ussually say "Death to the _______ invader!"


Usually? Don't any patriotic citizen would? :crazyeye:

Great story so far. Why no Beserkers in the story? Their attack value is as good as infantry.

The reason there are no berserkers is because at thispoint Scandinavia's army has been completely modernized.
After the skirmish in the pass, the 14th infantry army arrives at the hills surrounding Sidi bou Zid. Called the ‘Key to Carthage’, Sidi bou Zid is a road town. Controlling it will allow the Scandinavians access to almost any city west of the mountains. Ragnar orders the 14th to take the town, all or nothing.
I looked through my A-1 sights, keeping the scout in my line of fire. It was night, the only conditions favorable to the assault. We were going to start soon I knew, and frankly I was dreading it. Our tanks couldn’t move into the hilly ground, which meant no real cover. We would have to run across an eighth of a mile of open ground before we reached the town. We had only two advantages. Surprise, and the experienced artillery men of the 375th Colonial Egyptian artillery.
We waited five minutes, then ten. A shot rang out. “Open Fire!” I fired twice, the scout’s body jerking with each shot. All across the line we opened up, raining lead on the town. The enemy’s forward scouts were shot down in a matter of seconds. Our mortar men set up our small 60mm mortars, and began to blast away at the town, hoping to give us some covering fire. “14th infantry, advance!” I scrambled up and ran towards a long frozen irrigation ditch. The Mayans opened up with more weapons fire than I had ever seen. MG fire raked our line, mowing us down by the score. We made the first ditch, then the second and third, but casualties were high. Artillery began to hit us. I lay at the lip of the ditch, firing my A-1. “Since when could those Mayans shoot this good?!” A man behind me asked. A radio man yelled, “Hey, everyone pop smoke, we’re bringing in close air support!” He brought the receiver up to his ear, occasionally saying something-I couldn’t hear.
There was one thing I learned that night. Fighters don’t fight. They murder. Once our lines were marked, Scandinavian fighters roared out of the night sky, all six .50 caliber machine guns firing. The bullets were armor piercing, which meant the bricks the buildings were made out of were no deterrent. The buildings were being shot so much they almost appeared to be sparkling. Some of the fighters also dropped bombs powerful enough to greatly damage the buildings they hit. Small arms fire halted. “14th, move, move, move!” We rose out of the irrigation ditch, some pausing to fire, but most just running. I made it to the out skirts of the town, sliding into the wall of the closest building. I leaned around the corner, and fired my rifle at the black shapes moving from house to house. Behind me, a radio man and an officer came to the building, the officer leaning above my crouched form and firing, the radio man calling for artillery. He got it. We had never really had big guns on our side. The 60mms were all that we had ever worked with. Now, for the first time, we saw the sheer power of a 120mm howitzer barrage. The shells tore through buildings, and barriers, and the men of the 375th kept a heavy rate of fire on the Mayans.
I shoved a clip into my empty rifle, and fired again and again. We slowly advanced, the Mayans shooting at us with anything they could. Our gains were measured in yards. We also discovered a new danger-The Mayans had placed land mines. We came to a fork, and the hundred men who went down the left fork were killed by the Mayan shrapnel mines. We wisely went to the right. Dawn began to rise, and we still hadn’t captured the town. Mayan snipers and machine gunners would run across plank walkways to get from roof to roof. Our attack slowed, and then it stalled. “Where the hell are our tanks?” More than one man asked, and I agreed. Even this hilly terrain couldn’t delay them this long. Myself, the officer, the radio man, and three others were in an artillery crater, firing on the Mayans when ever we could. A low rumble came as if answering our question. A Scandinavian heavy tank rolled into the street, the turret swiveling, taking aim at a house where the Mayans had been using an MG on us. The turret barked, and the lower half of the house was destroyed in a flash of fire and dust. The tank turret swiveled back, and it rumbled on down the road. We looked to the radio man. “The Mayans are in retreat.” He told us, a large smile on his face. “Even better, our fighters are catching them as they cross the river.” We all smiled grimly, remembering the destruction those fighters had caused earlier. Mayan resistance had greatly slowed, so we, along with many more soldiers, got to the edge of the town, firing our rifles at the retreating Mayans. The 375th began firing again, and their shells cut down the Mayans. “Run you traitors, run!” I yelled, firing my rifle. A light machine gunner set up his tripod further down the line, and gunned down the fleeing Mayans efficiently. Then it was silent. We began to go through out the town in kind of a stupor, shocked at how the Mayans had resisted. Our bombers flew over head, and many of us cheered, waving our wool caps at them. A Scandinavian flag flew at the governor’s home. Even better, we found an entire cache of Mayan whiskey. That night, we drank to victory.
Epilogue: Convinced that Carthage will inevitably go back to the Scandinavians, Ragnar pulls the 14th off the line two weeks later. After the battle at Sidi bou Zid, the 14th’s casualties in Carthage had reached almost 30,000, the most in one army. They are resupplied, reinforced, and relocated, this time to a rallying point in the Mariana island chain, one hundred miles away from a Mayan colony. Though they don’t know it, they are going to be some of the first Scandinavians to set foot on the Mayan homeland.

1672- Mayan troops are driven off Carthage. The 2nd armored corps rolled over the last Mayan troops at Mareth, Turning the tide. In an act of desperation, Mayan bombers attack the Iroquois colonies in the area, hoping to hurt Scandinavian supply lines. The Iroquois, along with the Mongols and the Babylonians join Scandinavia, starting the first true World War. The Sumerians, The Romans, and the Ottomans join the Mayans. Fighting erupts all over the world. Scandinavia, the most powerful of her allies, proposes an assault on the former French islands. The 14th infantry army, along with the 2nd and 8th marine armies, the brand new 22nd, 23rd, and 24th paratrooper divisions, supported by the 3rd fleet, would make up the main force in the invasion. Iroquois troops will land at the northern end of the Island; the Scandinavians will take the southern end. Mayan troops were flown in by the hundreds, then the thousands. They know to surrender is to die. As the ships of the 3rd fleet open fire, they prepare, and they wait.
I leaned over the side of the LSI and vomited, the second time since the islands had come into view. We had never performed an amphibious assault, especially not in the jungle terrain that so greatly dominated the French islands.
After the Saxon-Mayan war, the French and the Mayans had practically traded colonies, the French taking the Gilbert Islands just as the Mayans took the chain we were now approaching. The war ended soon after word. These islands had been centers of war for years. Barbarians, French, Mayans, Ottomans, Mongols, and Scandinavians had fought here at some point in history.
I checked my brand new Raider battle rifle, the first battle rifle ever made by any country. Combining the finest aspects of a rifle and a light machine gun, the weapon was powerful, hard hitting, and accurate. Even better, it could be fired no matter how dirty, which had been a big problem for the Viking smg. I was one of the lucky 500 men who had one. The rest had the A-1 semi automatic rifle. We had been completely resupplied. Gone were the trench coats and wool caps of Carthage, replaced by a cotton t-shirt, jacket, pants, and a steel helmet with a camouflaged lining. We had also been given new back packs, better combat boots, and some better ammo carriers.
"Ok! Listen up!" A gravely voice yelled. It belonged to Captain Baldr, a former cavalry officer. He was now the commanding officer of my company. We knew him to be tough, aggressive, skilled, brave, and fair. He had fought in several wars, and was known to be a good leader. "We will be landing in an area were the Mayans are expected to resist. Fiercely. Our goal is to force our way through Mayan forces, and capture the city of St. Saveur, and its airfield. We need that place to fuel our main advance. The paratroopers have landed last night, so we should link up with some of them. The pass word is FUBAR, the reply is SNAFU. Got it?" He looked around, making sure we understood. "Our medium and heavy tanks can't fight in this jungle, so we have the N-5 Beowulf for support. Keep sand out of your sights, and your aim true. I'll see you on the beach."
The LSI hit a coral reef, and the coxswain beached the ship, making sure we could get ashore. Mayan small arms fire bounced off the metal hull, and the ships machine gunners returned fire. Our destroyers moved in and fired they're 105mm shore bombardment guns. The ramp went down, and we charged.
Mayan machine gun fire buzzed around our heads. I threw myself to the beach, staying low to avoid the murderous fire. Large rocks dotted the beach, and it took me a second to realize the Mayans were in the rocks. They had had a year to prepare, and now we were paying the price for Ragnar’s choice to sacrifice surprise for numbers. The Mayan troops were using everything from 60mm mortars to 120mm howitzers on us. I raised my battle rifle and fired a full clip at the jungle. Bullets kicked up the sand in front of me, so I wiggled into the sand, lowering myself out of sight. An N-5 light tank rolled out of a LST, and was promptly destroyed by a Mayan anti-tank weapon. Several men were mowed down as they tried to reach the .30 caliber machine gun on the turret.
I slowly crawled out of my hole, knowing hiding there would accomplish nothing. All across the beach others came to the same line of thinking. We moved forward slowly, artillery fire and MG fire tearing us apart. A LSI could hold almost sixty men, and on many of the ships, not one touched the sand. We made the first real cover on the beach, a small sea wall of sand and stone. Our light machine gunners set up they’re weapons and sprayed the Mayan defenses while officers organized their men, and prepared a coordinated push towards the Mayans. I was lying down at the lip of the wall firing my rifle, when someone grabbed me and yanked me bodily away from the wall. It was the Captain. “PFC Leif! You’re with me.” He walked away, waving his pistol and practically throwing men onto the wall to fight. I ran after him, keeping low and wondering how in hell he hadn’t been shot yet. Capt. Baldr stood upright, and walked at almost a leisurely way. Occasionally he fired his pistol at the Mayans as if they were a distraction. My respect for the man soared that day. He walked right up onto the top of the wall and stood out in the open, Mayan bullets flying around him. “Only two people are staying on this beach. The dead, those who are going to die. Get moving!” He yelled, and we surged over the wall in a renewed attempt. I ran towards the MG rock closest towards me. I ran around it, finding a stair case the Mayans had hacked into the stone. I pulled the pin off of one of my grenades and hurled it into the MG nest. An explosion, followed by Mayan screams. I ran in and sprayed the room. I ran out, went to the next nest and repeated the process. Soon, the N-5 light tanks were able to land safely, and they immediately began using they’re 37mm turrets on the rock MG nests. Tank borne infantry men manned the .30 cal machine guns and raked the machine gun nests.
Even better, our bombers finally showed up. They flew in and dropped payload after payload. They’re ball turret gunners raked the areas held by the Mayans. The Mayans began to give ground, but they still fought fiercely. They would hide in the jungle, then fire on any group of Scandinavians they could. We really stopped taking prisoners after that. A small force of Mayans approached me, hands up, and I emptied my clip into them, mowing them down like dogs. Mayan light tanks came on then, but we used they’re own anti tank weapons against them. In minutes, they left, minus six tanks. rifle fire slowed, then stopped. Almost immediately our reinforcements were brought in, followed by jeeps, trucks, halftracks, N-5s, and more infantry. The beach was ours.

:thumbsup:

Should I skip the battle of hill 210? It wasn't a really important battle for the 14th, I just wanted to know.

A week after the invasion, a batalion from the 14th infantry army moved inland, towards a hill numbered 210. It has to be secured so that the 14th can move inland, to St. Saveur. As the force reaches the hill, they come under heavy attack from the Mayan 2nd guerilla army. They can only just hold their position. Ragnar orders the entire 14th to move in and destroy the Mayan troops.
The gound was burnt and charred. I could see the wooden Mayan bunkers at the summit of the hill, and the bodies of my comrades who had died trying to reach it. The captain assembled us. "Ok, B comp'ny. We're going to a ridge held by 1st batalion's D comp'ny. Enemy troops have been hitting that spot really hard. 4th heavy artillerys moved up, along with the 83rd bomber fleet, so we should have alot of support. Also, a platoon from the 24th airborne will be with us. Any questions?" He paused very briefly. "Outstanding. Move out!"
We gathered our gear and ammo, and moved east. My battle rifle barrel had actually melted-I had fired it to much while clearing the beach-so I was back to an A-1 rifle. It was still early in the morning, so things were calm. three N-5 light tanks rolled across the burnt field. Chaplains gave last rights to the dead, and prayers to their Berserker ancesters. Reserve troops moved into their new positions as the battle fatiuged troops moved off the line. It was the second day of the battle.
We made it to the ridge in about thirty minutes. Scorch marks and craters littered the rise to the 14th infantry's positions. Enemy bodies were everywhere, and with the intense heat of the jungle, they had already begun to rot. The men who were already there said little, and we returned the favor. We just jumped into the nearest fox hole. Those who couldn't get one hacked one into the soft, dusty ground. Our company's mortars set up along with D company's. Several N-5s' moved into their positions, large holes protected by sandbags and dirt battlements. It was completely silent for an hour. The sun was up and the heat was blistering. A man set up a .50 caliber mg in our fox hole. Another hour passed uneventfully. A voice finally yelled, "Fire three rounds at anything that looks suspicious to you." I looked over the rim of my hole and squeezed off the rounds into the jungle.
The response was an amazing amount of small arms fire. Mayan guerilla fighters seemed to pop out of the jungle. They wore torn clothes which blended in perfectly with the surrounding foliage. Their pith helmets had leaves and rags coming out of them, only adding to their camoflauge. For the most part they used old bolt action rifles.
They chargd our position, and we mowed them down. I didn't have to aim, they were so thick in the area. I just raised my rifle over the battlement and fired, shoving clips into my rifle when it was empty. The machine gunner next to me opened up, his weapon spewing lead. Our mortars came in, and yet they continued coming, yelling for our blood. The N-5's 37mm cannon was effective against such large crowds of enemy troops, and the Mayans ere mowed down with impunity. For three hours the battle raged, enemy troops continually charging our position. Wecut them down again and again, but eventually, they reached our line. Our fire subsided in some areas, as the Mayans engaged our troops in close combat. The machine gunner next to me grabbed his A-1 viking smg. The .50 cal had run out of ammo. I fixed my bayonet and kept on firing. A Mayan soldier came to the lip of our hole and we filled him with lead. His body jerked as the rounds hit him. Another came to our hole, and plunged my bayonet into his stomach. I pulled it out and hit the next mayan with the butt of the rifle. The machine gunner mowed down the fourth with his smg. I pulled my self over the lip of the fox hole, knowing we had no close combat advantage in that position. Others were doing the same.
I raised my rifle and squeezed off a round into the closest Mayan, then another. He fell to the ground even as I fired on another enemy soldier. All around me, men from both sides were falling to the ground. One of our fighters flew over the field, its six .50 caliber machine guns blazing. a bomber flew over a minute later, dropping a large canister over the slop of the hill. The next thing I knew, the slope had erupted into a wall of fire. We could see the burning Mayan troops flailing their arms, screaming or their famalies, and those of us who could shot them without mercy. We began to slowly overwhelm the enemy troops who were engaged in close combat with us.
A flaming Mayan soldier came running at me, some how firing his weapon. I stopped him with the A-1's .30 caliber rounds. He fell to the ground, his skin crackling. The machine gunner had run out of ammo for his smg and was now using his pistol. We shot as many Mayans as we could until they got into close combat again, and we didn't give one inche. The Mayans fell, and the flames blocked off reinforcments. slowly, we exterminated those who reamined. More ammo was brought up, Mayan bodies were thrown into the flames, and we were back into out fox holes. It was dusk when I sank to the ground in my hole. We were fighting a tough and deteremined enemy, one different from those we had fought in Carthage. It was goingto be a long campaign.

"PFC." I opened my eyes, still tired. It was late in the night, but I could still see. The ground at the foot of the ridge was still on fire. Captain Baldr stood above me.
"PFC Leif, I wanted to tell you. Your corporal is dead." I had been around death for a long time now. I didn't flinch at the news. "A sniper shot him three minutes ago. Scince you are ranking private in your squad, (2nd squad, 3rd platoon, 2nd batalion, 12th infantry regiment, 4th infantry division, 14th infantry army) you are his replacment."
Now I was suprised. I pulled myself out of my fox hole. The captain put the new rank pin in my helmet covering. He gave me a nod of his head, and left. I jumped back into my fox hole. The man next to me, the machine gunner, stirred slightly. "whats the news PFC?" "You mean corporal." He half opened his eyes and looked at me with a sleepy grin. "Good for you." He said seriously, no sarcasm in his voice. Both of us sank into a deep sleep soon after.
We were awakened again by the sound of mortars and rifle fire. The machine gunner put a belt of ammo into his MG and pulled the reaciver back. We both looked around. "You see anything?" he asked me. "Not a damned thing." I answered. A near by radio man had the handset up to his mouth. "I need illumination, at preplanned positions Copenhagen, and Trondheim." He whispered.
Our line bristled, men preparing their weapons. A sound, that of the flairs, was the only sound we could hear now. There was a bang and the sky lit up. Enemy troops were 30 yards away. The entire line opened up, rifle fire cutting down the exposed Mayans. I took aim and fired, the rifle buckling with each shot. The enemy returned fire, but they simply lacked the cover to do any type of real damage.
The machine gunner scythed his fire, moving it left and right. Our 60mm mortars began to hit the ridge, only adding to the Mayan chaos. A large force of Mayan guerillas charged up the hill, bayonets at the ready. I didn't need to aim, as they were bunched up. Captain Baldr moved down the line, a pistol in hand. "Attach bayonets!" He yelled. We stared at him, wide eyed. One man started to voice a protest. The captain shot him in the chest.
I hooked my bayonet over the end of my rifle and waited for the order. "Over the top! CHARGE!" The captain yelled. I scrambled over the lip of the fox hole, the soft dirt making it harder than normal. Some Mayans stayed at the foot of the hill and fired on us, but most charged us. We hacked them back with our bayonets, forcing our way forward.
I killed as many as I could before I got into close combat. It was vicious but short. The guerillas began to fall back, and we pursued, yelling old berserker battle cries. We stabbed their wounded as we passed, and shot the backs of the retreating guerillas.
I came across one Mayan soldier lying on the ground. He was holding his intestines in with his hands- mortar shrapnel had gutted him. I thought about shooting him, but then decided to leave him. The traitor wasn't worth the bullet.
Our N-5 Beowulf light tanks began to move up, and their 37mm cannon was dangerous at close ranges. The Guerillas were in full retreat. It was a rout. And suddenly, we were told to halt.
"We took hill 210." Captain Baldr yelled. He was standing on an N-5. "Get to your fox holes and rest. We continue on to St Savuer tommorow. The 61st, 79th, and the 844th infantry divisons will be taking over our lines on the morrow."

I'm gonna write this part in a different way, so tell me if you think its ok.

1673
Location- Former French Islands, one mile south of the French port city of St Saveur.
14th infantry army objective- Secure the town and its airfield and port.
Situation- scandinavian artillery has fired several smokescreen shells into the field between the 14th infantry and the town.
account:
I Kept my A-1 rifle pressed firmly against my shoulder, my eyes down the length of the barrel. My aim was slightly off, due to the bayonet on the end of my rifle.
We were moving in a loose formation, so each man could see only the outline of the man in front of him. We couldn't see anything beyond a couple of feet in front of us, and it was driving us insane.
I heard the sound of a bullet fly past my head, but I heard no rifle, so I couldn't return fire. sweat covered my hands, and i wiped my palms on the wooden stock of my rifle. I heard another bullet, this one closer.
My nerves got the best of me, and I fired a round. It echoed, and around me, I could see jumpy men looking all around them.
There was a sound in front of me, like twig breaking. I didn't even think about it, I just started shooting. suddenly the outlines of enemy troops appeared in front of us. all across the line we opened up, firing from the hip.
The first row of enemy troops were cut down, and we met the second row, bayonet scraping on bayonet. I shot the first man who came at me, and the man after him. a third came at me, yelling for the glory of smoke jaguar. I side stepped and thrust my bayonet into his chest. I jerked the rifle, trying to pull the bayonet out. it was stuck, so i fired around off, blowing a hole in the Mayan's body. I jerked the weapon out, and ran towards the city.
Some of our men stayed behind to fight the Mayan troops, but most of us went through their lines, straight for the city. Most of the city was decimated, having been bombed by both our own bombers, and Iroquois bombers. The Mayans hid in the ruins, and we just ran past them, spinning and shooting them when we saw them.
Towards the center of the town we reached a medical ward. Screaming at the top of our lungs against the Mayan invaders, many of us charged into the ward. I didn't go, but I could hear the screams of their wounded before they were shot.
A Mayan machine gun bunker opened up on us, and we dove into a ditch on the side of the road. We tried several times to flank it, but each time we only just got back to te ditch with our skins. Finally we said to hell with it. We would come back when the N-5 Beowulfs' arrived.
Apart from a few strong positions like that, the town was relativley secured. While walking through an alley with three other men, a group of enemy troops fired on us. We leaped to the nearest door way and fire back at them. After several minutes of this, one of the men dropped his rifle and gave out a yelp. He charged the enemy position with his one handed fighting axe, and even though they all shot at him, they all missed. He leaped into the hole where they were hiding, and with blinding speed, cut down the two closest Mayan troops. Startled, one of the mayans fired a shot and ran like hell. The bullet hit the trooper in the helmet. Amazingly, it didn't go through.
All around the cities there were small encounters like that. Our troops would encounter little groups of enemies, kill one or two, and the rest would go running. by after noon, the tnks had arrived, and the city was considerd secure. planess flew in heavy MGs, and our powerful 88mm anti-tank guns. Now we just had to hold the city till our replacments arrived.

1673
Location: St. Saveur-La-Vicomete, Former French Islands.
14th Infantry army objective: Hold the town until relieved.
Situation: Mayan heavy tanks have landed further up the coast, and are approaching the town, along with the remains of the 2nd guerilla army, and other forces. Scandinavian troops have 88mm AT guns capable of destroying the tanks, but nothing else. The 2nd marine army is on its way to relieve the 14th infantry.
Account:
I watched the tank go by, and luckily, the commander, who was in plain sight, didn't notice me. Mayan infantry walked on the sides of the streets, uneasy at the lack of gunfire.
It had been a day since we had taken the city, and after only a few hours of sleep, we were once again in combat. I was with a six-man team, as was Wallace, who was on the balcony across from me. The open topped Mayan tank destroyers were approaching, and we both nodded to each other.
There was one man with a rocket launcher in each six man team, and ours was standing up on the balcony, watching the Mayan tank destroyers approach. He fired the rocket, and it hit the crew and the ammo in the vehicle. There was a massive explosion as the ammo exploded.
The man with the rocket launcher moved back, and my team opened fire on the enemy infantry on the sides of the road. Our light machine gunner had set up his weapon in a window to my right, and was using his weapon to rain lead on the Mayans.
I saw one Mayan infantry man trying to get into a nearby house, and I took aim. The rifle buckled against my shoulder, and he fell to the ground, dead. I got a bead on another, and I shot him too. Wallace's anti tank man shot the second tank destroyer, and there was another large explosion. Mayan began hurling grenades at the two balconies, we would hurl them right back.
We could hear the sound of tank treads as a Mayan tank rounded the corner. The turret swiveled, and it fired, the round tearing through the building I was in. The force of the explosion knocked me to my feet, and when I got up, I could tell our machine gunner had been killed. A piece of stone had shot up, through the wooden floor and had lodged itself into his brain. We dragged him away from his position, and got the hell out of the building before it collapsed.
As we ran out the back door, a second tank round hit the building, the shell going straight through and hitting another man in my team. He was thrown ten feet forward, and lay there, very still. I could tell he was dead. We left him where he lay, and kept running, hoping to get to the main line of resistance. Whenever we'd see Mayans, we'd run past them, firing from the hip. We didn't hit any as far as I could tell, but a stray bullet hit my anti tank man's leg. He fell to the ground cussing, and preparing his weapon. He fired it into a large group of Mayans, then he stood up and hopped after us.
At the main line, things weren't going as well as we'd hoped. We had taken out two enemy tanks thanks t the 88's, but they only gave cover to the enemy infantry. After sending the man with the launcher for medical treatment, We found a half-destroyed building. There were already men there, and I was suprised to find Wallace amongst them. He nodded to me, but when I asked him how he had gotten here, he would just cupped his hand around his ear and yell, "WHAT?!" One of his men told me a tank round had exploded as they were running out of their building, and had been very close to Wallace. I nodded, and my team set up and started firing.
We held the position for the better part of an hour, but still they came on, and eventually we had to fall back. After spiking our guns, we scrambled across the Town Square, enemy rifle fire and tank rounds following us. A small force of N-5s' charged into the square, and briefly engaged the enemy tanks. They retreated, almost completely decimated several minutes later. The cost of the tank battle had been eight of our N-5s' for three of their tanks.
We reached the mot powerful position in our sector, a series of buildings that was held by two hundred and fifty soldiers, twenty N-5s' and fifteen 88mm at guns. When the Mayans rushed in, we caught them in a hellish cross fire. Within minutes, their tanks ere smoking, and their infantry lay in piles, yet they still came, sensing victory was near.
How quickly that sense aboandoned them when a fire storm erupted on their right flank.
Marine troops had arrived, and with them, the defeat of the Mayan troops. Together, our infantry and the marines pushed forward, taking back lost ground. within three hours, the city was ours again. The battle was ours.
Epilouge: Due to heavy losses, the 14th infantry was taken out of the French island campaign. They were sent home to rest and refit.
In the north, the Iroquios landings were successfull. After a matter of months, The They met up with Scandinavian forces.
The 14th infantry army is again sent out in 1674, this time to aid the Mongols.

Ok seriously, some one post on this thing!

Nice work. Lets hear some more.

1674
Location: Off the coast of Mongol/ Ottoman continent.
Situation: Ottoman troops, backed by Mayan funding, are driving the Mongol army back. In order to keep the Ottomans from overwhelming the Mongols, Ragnar has sent the 14th infantry, equipped with new weapons, and supporting units to the battle.
Account:
I walked around the LSI, making sure my squad was ready. We were two minutes to the beach.
I held an all new A-2 Viking smg. The weapon was rugged, had a high rate of fire, and was reliable. The rate of fire was 650 rpm, much more than the Mayan smg, which had a rate of fire 420 rounds per minute. (Note: The A-2 looks like a Tommy gun from the 1920s’)
Satisfied my men were ready, I found a spot in the craft, and waited. The call went out, the ramp went down, and we charged off the ship.
There was no gunfire. Nothing. It was about as dangerous as stepping off a ferry.
At the end of the day, the entire Scandinavian force was on the beach, and the 14th was heading east to link up with the Mongol troops.
A small part of men, myself included, were moving through a hilly area. The dust had kicked up, bringing our visibility down greatly.
One of the men in my squad, a guy named Carlyle (of English decent) began to complain. “Ah jeez, why did they send us to do this? Why didn’t they get the guys who had fought in Egypt here?”
“Because those guys are fighting with the Mayans in Iroquois land.” I said, my tone ending the debate. Carlyle rested his Raider battle Rifle on his shoulder (At this point the raider is being mass-produced) and continued to mumble, though under his breath.
A long rip of machine gun fire erupted in the hills to our left. We scrambled to a small overhang in one of the hills.
“Any know where the hell that came from?” I yelled. Everyone shook their heads. Another burst sounded in the distance.
“Hey, I think that’s an Otto weapon.” One of the men yelled, using a slang term for Ottomans. I nodded my agreement. It had a very distinct sound.
“Ok, Carlyle, you’re with me. Everyone else, stay here. Till I give the signal.” I yelled.
They nodded, and we ran out into the open. Our sand colored uniforms helped us blend in, but we still weren’t invisible. The hidden machine gun ripped a long burst at us, the bullets kicking the sand up around us. I fired a burst from my 71 round drum magazine in the guns general direction, and kept going. We reached a small cliff of about seven feet. I jumped down first, followed by Carlyle.
We were in a small ravine. We stayed crouched at the cliff base, waiting. Convinced the spot was secure, and out of sight of the machine gunner, We threw a smoke grenade, and moved to the two main entrances to the area.
I almost walked straight into an Ottoman rifleman. He was dressed in tan robes, with a veiled turban on his head. A sabre hung from his side, and he carried a bolt action rifle.
I fired my smg into his stomach, the force of the rounds blowing him to the ground. I moved back as more Ottomans came around the corner. I fired my smg, spraying the oncoming Ottoman soldiers. Carlyle was doing very much the same. I got into a crouch, spraying every Ottoman soldier that came around the corner of the ravine.
“I swear to God, if our guys don’t get here, I’ll f****** kill them!” Carlyle yelled over his shoulder. I put another drum into my smg, and kept up my fire, and Ottoman bodies began to pile in front of the corner.
A large force of Ottomans charged around the corner, bayonets and sabres drawn and at the ready. I fired my smg, cutting them down yet still they charged, calling out for their God.
And suddenly, the Ottomans were being cut down en masse. At the top of the cliffs, Our party, and a group of men who were clad like the Ottomans were at the top of the cliff, firing on the Ottomans. The robed men were armed with Scandinavian weapons. Within a few minutes, the Ottomans were dead.
One of the men on the hilltop called down to us. “Hey corporal, We met up with these Mongols. They got some tanks! They say we need to go with them.” I glanced at him, then looked around the ravine.
“Can you get us out of this bloody hole?”

Oh, and to the person who said the pass thing was based off Big Red One, your wrong, its actually based off the battle of Makinassy pass, which was later in the North African campaign, though I admit, I did use lines from Big Red One there.

I noticed that the battle was different but I recognized the lines which is why I said it.

I was reading this and I realized I didn't make something clear. Not only had my little brother deleated this file (:gripe:) but at the point when I began to write this, The war was long ago over. Just to avoid any confusion. Keep posting!

Great job with your storie! I don't think I could write anything like it. I am defiently following this!:)

My hols have just ended and I've read the latest update. Great read so far :)

sorry every one. been busy as hell latley, so it'll take me a bit before the next update. I'll try and get the next one done tonight or somethin. See ya.

I like it!

Is the vomiting in the LST based off of Medal of Honor Allied Assault - Dday? :crazyeye:

Don't answer that

If I can make two suggestions--one optional, but one absolutely critical.

Optional:
Including an image or two (a screenshot or just a historically-aligned pic off the web) will make it much easier for readers to follow the story and get back into it between chapter updates.

Critical:
Please double space between paragraphs. Since you can't indent on the internet, then only single-spacing between paragraphs tend to make the story look like a big wall of text, which is a turn off. Short paragraphs invite a reader in, and let her/him enjoy the parts of a story in bite-sized chunks.

That said, I like what I've read so far. :cool:

I'll try those out, thanks Bucky Rea. Sorry for the lack of updates, i'll try and find sometime. If i can get to the library i can get a new update or two on monday. Be patient. and by the way, the vomiting off the LSI infantry was more just based off something i had read about. it was a very common thing before amphibious assaults.

Sorry for the lack of updates, i'll try and find sometime.
Heh. We all commit that sin. I started my first story here back in February and I'm still plugging away at it, even after having taken a two month hiatus.

1674
Location: Mongol/ Ottoman border, HQ of Mongol 1st tank army, and 3rd infantry division.
Situation: Ottoman troops, backed by Mayan funding and weapons, push the Mongols out of their territory. The Ottomans prepare a massive force of tanks, hoping to break through the border in a rush for the Mongol capitol. The first Mongol tank army and supporting units are the first and only wave of defense. They must hold out until the Scandinavian 14th army arrives. (Author’s note: Naturally, you couldn’t have one patrol of Scandinavians fighting in this battle in the actual game, but the battle was just too important to leave out.)
Account:
For several, uneventful hours, we simply stuck with the tank and infantry convoy, getting rides on the tanks when we could. The sun was glaring, and the dust choking.

After talking to the tank commander, I came to understand we were on near the front lines. This soon proved true as we passed Mongol artillery positions. Our tanks rolled into a large tent city. Camel driven carts pulled ammunition, fuel, and other supplies to areas where it was needed most. Mongol tanks, most of them older Scandinavian models, were arrayed in a line towards to the back of the camp. The end of the camp facing north was a maze of trenches, anti-tank ditches, machine gun nests, and barbed wire. I recognized the work as a Scandinavian fortification. Apparently we weren’t the first Scandinavians here. (This is actually true. The barricade that now housed the 1st tank army had been made by Scandinavians.) We were given a large tent to stay in until the 14th army arrived. They still had to create and secure an airfield until additional troops were flown in.

For the next several days, we went through the trenches and familiarized ourselves with the fortifications and the area. The two thousand yards separating the Mongols and the Ottomans was almost completely flat, with the exception of many small bluffs that would be no problem for a tank to cross, but would be much worse to infantry. Scandinavian T-12 ‘Thunder fall’ jump lanes flew over us several times and dropped supplies. We had been able to take great amounts of ammo for our weapons. The planes showed that the 14th army had completed its objectives and was on its way north.

I leaned back on a sandbag pulled my helmet over my eyes. It was our fifth day with the Mongol army, and we had been so busy the only time we could catch any sleep was win we had MG nest duty. Carlyle was still awake, and was cleaning his A-2 raider. Another man in my squad, a man of English decent named Burgett, manned the Mongol MG. I thought I heard a sound in the distance. At first I thought it was thunder, but it hit me as I realized there were no storm clouds, and the ground twenty feet in front of us flew into the air. All three of us scrambled back, the Ottoman artillery moving towards us. I could see the Ottoman tanks approaching in the distance, infantry mixed in amongst they’re ranks.

The line began to erupt in a hailstorm of lead as the Ottomans got within range of the Mongol forces. The artillery fire had stopped, and we quickly got back into our positions. The Ottomans were about thirty yards away, well within the effective range of our weapons. Burgett opened up, firing his MG in short bursts, trying to keep the Ottomans from moving. Carlyle and I fired on any that Burgett wasn’t facing. An Ottoman grenade sailed over our heads and into our nest. Carlyle quickly snatched it and threw it back towards it’s owners.

It went on like this for several minutes until Burgett yelled “Holy ****, tank!” We all heard the rumbling, so we didn’t have to look to confirm it. We grabbed our gear, the MG, and as much ammo as we could carry. With one quick glance over our shoulders, we jumped out of the nest, scrambling like a trio of poor SOBs into the trench. Apparently the tank fired, because Burgett, who was in the back was thrown several feet forward in a shower of sand and black dirt. Carlyle and I scrambled towards him, and amazingly, apart from some burns and some cuts, he was perfectly ok. We hoisted him to his feet and ran towards where we knew the rest of the squad was.

We ran in a crouch, myself and Carlyle occasionally popping up to fire a burst at the Ottomans. The Mongol artillery had opened up by now, and it was hitting the Ottomans full force. We could see where several Ottoman tanks had been knocked out, mostly by the huge plums of black smoke in the sky. Mongol tanks had gone past the trenches and into the open desert, where what would be the greatest tank battle of the war was being fought.

We came around a bend, which lead to the rest of the squad, and stopped cold. The burnt bodies of our comrades lied there in the bloody sand. They had died at their post, fighting. No Berserker could ask for a better death. We muttered some quick prayers to they’re ancestors and moved on. Mongol troops ran past us in both directions, evening out they’re defense. The Ottomans had lost the surprise, but they still had numbers.

An Ottoman tank rolled right up to the trench, firing its main gun and destroying small ammo dumps, and killing the defenders. One man, a Mongol soldier, calmly raised an anti-tank weapon to his shoulder and fired. The rocket bounced off. The man calmly loaded another rocket into his weapon, took aim, and fired again. The rocket hit the treads, disabling the tank. Myself, my men, and several Mongols ran up to the tank, some of the Mongols climbing onto the turret. I stuck the muzzle of my Viking smg into the driver’s viewport and emptied the drum magazine. The Mongols pried open the turret Carlyle dropped a thermite grenade into the tank. We could here the screams as the grenade exploded and burnt the men inside.

I heard a droning sound and looked up. The sky was filled with T-12 ‘Thunder fall’ jump planes. It took me several seconds to realize what was happening. While we had been resting and rearming, Ragnar had ordered a great increase in the number of airborne divisions. I was watching the fruit of that order. Thirty Scandinavian airborne divisions were jumping behind Ottoman lines to draw their tanks and infantry away from the Mongols. The fighting grew even more furious.

http://www.adhb30.dsl.pipex.com/ww2-pic-050.jpg
Ottoman tanks move into the battle.

http://www.combatmission.com/articles/usmedtanks/pics/M3-1.JPG The N-3 medium, an older Scandinavian tank that became the Mongol tank of the war.

http://i.cnn.net/cnn/interactive/world/0304/gallery.koreanwar/09.paratroopers.jpg Scandinavian paratroopers fought in their first major operation at this battle. They were amongst Scandinavia's most well trained troops.

http://www.100thww2.org/overview/Deadtnk2.jpg this Ottoman tank met its death in this battle, along with hundreds of others.

ok, so was that good?

That was awsome!:thumbsup:

I don't know why, but i thought i should say this for some reason. Anyway, for those of you who are wondering, there were about eight major wars that were fought until my brother deleted the file, so that means eight sequals. I'll post an update later today if i can.

After several more minutes of fighting, the awe of seeing so many paratroopers was lost, and our survival instincts set in. We had chosen a small concrete and sand bagged machine gun bunker to make our stand, and the Ottomans were cut down with impunity.

Out in the desert, Mongol and Ottoman tanks were so close that their coaxial machine guns could pierce through their armor. There were not massive armored formations, but instead the two tank armies were mixed together, each tank crew fighting for their own survival. Whnever things became quiet for us, we would watch the battle with a mix amazment and dread.

While watching one of these, i noticed a slight movement out of the corner of my eye. Apprently Burgett noticed it too, because he spun his machine gun, pulling the trigger as he did. The machine gun opened up, the rounds tearing into an Ottoman soldier with an anti-tank weapon. The rounds cut through the body. The anti-tank rocket dropped out of his hand, sliding down the very slight slope in this area of the fortifications.

Off in the distance, I could see the explosions as the Ottomans tried to overrun our paratroopers. From what I could see, the paratroopers had landed on a small mountain, and now were fighting for their lives as the Ottomans tried to claw their way to the top. That did explain why the Ottomans had lessened the pressure on us. That was about to change.

There was a ditch almost one hundred yards away from us. We knew Ottomans had been hiding in it, but we had no idea how many. finally, after almost an hour, I grabbed a radio, thinking 'i'll fix those bastards.' I held it up to my ear, turned it on, and said in what Mongol i had learned, "drop one round at 100 top, 200 right. i'll adjust as neccesary, over."

a single artillery shell flew in and exploded, just left of the ditch.

"right 25, fifty shells. Otto's out in the open, fire for effect, over." I ducked and got down behind the concrete lip of the bunker. So did Carlyle and Burgett. artillery shells flew in, landing in the ditch and throwing up huge plums of dirt. We knew the shrapnel in those shells were tearing apart anyone who was in there.

Sadly for us, we never expected there to be that many. After the barrage was over, at least two hundred Ottomans rose out of the ditch, charging for us. Unknown to us, that ditch was their rally point. We opened up, trying to do anything to stop these human waves. apparently that ditch ran all along the trench line, because all over it was the same thing. Thousands of Ottomans were now charging our lines.

I fired in full automatic. accuracy wasn't nessecary, and it would take to long to bring them down with bursts. Carlyle and Burgett was doing the same, but our allies were still taking their time to line up perfect shots. I fired from the hip in a raking motion, killing as many Ottomans as I could.

We could tell it was over. The Ottomans had gotten to the trench line. "Burgett, leave the machine gun, grab your rifle. Follow me!" We ran out the back of the bunker, and turned into the trench network. Carlyle took the lead, and whenever an Ottoman went into the trench to stop us, he blew them down with his A-2 battle rifle.

We moved to a part where the trench widened out. It was one of the last strong points the Ottoman tanks hadn't nocked out. We quickly found a spot and started firing. we had to stop the Ottomans.

At first we could barley hear it. But soon, the sound of tank treads and .50 caliber machine guns was to loud to be ignored. "What the hell is that?" I asked. Carlylye turend and scanned the desert behind us. "Holy God, N-7s!" He yelled, pointing behind us. I looked, and saw almost forty scandinavian heavy tanks rolling into the battle. Behind them, the 14th army followed. the tide had turned.

http://mailer.fsu.edu/~akirk/tanks/UnitedStates/mediumtanks/usmt-M26-Pershing-3rdArmy.jpg
The N-7, Scandinavia's main heavy tank, lead the way into the battle. They were equipped with two .5o caliber machine guns, and a 90mm gun.

http://www.wfa-usa.org/new/jpg/y_mgbunker_jlacy.jpg
This machine gun bunker was very similar to the one we spent most of the battle in.

http://noviomagus.tripod.com/canadians-ww1.jpg
this picture was painted years after the war to show the savagry of Ottoman charge.

http://www.battlefront.co.nz/Images/Battlegroups/Dion-GIs-panzerfaust.jpg
Two scandinavian soldiers inspect some captured Mayan ant-tank rockets. The Mayans gave thousands of these to the Ottomans.

I don't know why, but for some reason that one didn't seem to be one of my better posts. The next one should be better. it'll take me a bit-I'm also typing the sequal on Word.

busy. I'll post when i can.

:bump: Come on, this story was great!

sorry. really busy. getting ready for school. I'll try and post before the end of the week. maybe on saturday or somethin.
Edit: Did you mean was good as in like, its not anymore? I really don't care, i'm just curious. Should be able to get a post in tonight.

ok. almost finished with the next update. just have to do some research on certain battles.
To content those of you who are no doubt getting impatient, heres a quick clip from the sequel.

PFC Joseph Laino, 182nd paratrooper division.
Location: Skies above Akkad, June 12th, 1701.
Account:
Our T-180 jump planes went over Akkad, first with little resistance. After about five minutes, the island’s batteries of aging Flak guns opened up, lighting the sky around us. We sat in complete silence.

I had joined the airborne two years ago. Even acceptance into airborne training is a great honor- It was the toughest training in all of Scandinavia’s armed forces. The first several months of our training were pt, or physical training. Then it went into weaponry, tactics, and environments. Scandinavian paratroopers trained in every type of terrain. When I was in training, we went to Carthage, The Marianas, Egypt, mainland Scandinavia, and parts of the Mayan homeland. After that was jump training, then helicopter training, training with tank and mechanized units, and finally, the war games, where we faced off against other units in training. If you made it through all that, you became a certified airborne trooper. It made Scandinavia’s airborne one of the best forces in the world, and I was proud to serve in it, just like my grandfather did in the Great Patriotic War.

Our jump master, lieutenant Bill Muir stood up as the red light went on. He looked at us and held his hands out parallel to the ground. He raised them up and yelled, “Get ready!” We held our A-14 rifles in the ready position and prepared for the next command. “Stand up!” We got up and hooked our static lines. We quickly checked our own, and each others equipment. Once we were satisfied with this, we each gave a thumbs up, and yelled “Ok!”

The first man in the group moved to the open door, and waited patiently for the green light to come on. Some bullets hit the door near his head, but he hardly flinched. Unlike the paratroopers of other nations, we took seven qualifying jumps, the final two with anti-aircraft firing at us. It was risky, but it associated us with AA fire in actual jumps.

Finally the green light went on, and the man jumped out, his body angled to the left. The stick followed quickly, with each man jumping out pivoting to the left when he was out of the plane. I was the seventh man in the stick, and when my turn came, I leaped out, barely giving the action a second thought.

I started counting. One thousand! Two thousand! I felt a hard tug on my back as the parachute was jerked from its pack. Three thousand! The unopened parachute acted as an air break, slowing my forward movement, and tilting my back to the earth, and I watched as the tail of the plane sailed past over the tips of my boots. Four thousand! The chute was fully deployed now, so I took a quick look around, orienting myself with the DZ and the surrounding area.

We were one of five airborne divisions making the initial landings. Another five would join us once our initial objectives were completed. For the 182nd, our objectives were to capture a heavily defended airfield near the city of New Nimrud. After that, Nimrud itself was to be taken. Once those two main objectives were finished, we would move around the island, mopping up resistance as we found it.

I hit the ground hard and rolled, getting up and running around and into my parachute to collapse it before a gust of wind blew me across the field. Once I had the parachute collapsed, I folded it and put it into a bag, which I set at a large pile of bags in the center of the DZ. Then I prepared my gear and moved out. We didn’t have time to form up into our specific squads. The airfield was only about two hundred yards away. We had to hit it as quickly as possible.

The main weapon employed by the airborne was the A-14 rifle. It was a good, powerful and accurate weapon, based off the design of the A-1 semi automatic rifle of the Great Patriotic War. The A-14 had a 28 round magazine, and could fire either semi-automatic, or three round burst. It was accurate at up 500 yards, and with a 7.62mm bullet, it had the impact force of a brick hitting a glass window. Made out of plastic and steel, it was slightly heavier than the rifles used by the airborne forces of other nations, but its reliability, accuracy, and stopping power easily outweigh the one minor set back.

I moved with what seemed to be the general flow of troopers. There were some woods and a small creek separating us from our objective, but they were hardly obstacles to us. I waded through the water, and ran up the bank on the other side, keeping the butt of my rifle pressed against my shoulder and the barrel pointed down. We came to the edge of the forest, went prone, and waited. About thirty yards away were the perimeter defenses of the airfield. Mostly they were wooden guard towers, but one concrete bunker was there.

Since the large flame throwers employed by the Navy and the Army were too heavy for the airborne, we instead made do with thermite grenadiers. These were rifleman who carried somewhere around twelve incendiary grenades. There were two such men in each stick.

One of those men was lying next to me. His name was Koller. We were in the same company. An officer tapped him on the shoulder and motioned for him to throw a grenade into the bunker when we started firing. For the next five minutes officers made sure we were in position. Then the order went out.

My target had been a man holding a light machine gun in the guard tower. I squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession. My first round hit him in the chest, the second in the shoulder. He was dead with the first hit. The rifle, smg, and light machine gun fire cut down the men in the guard towers. The machine gun in the bunker opened up on us.

Koller then began his run. With the thermite grenade in his hand, he ran across the open expanse of ground. He pulled the pin and threw the grenade through the opening. He threw him self to the ground, and rolled, putting himself right up against the concrete wall. The grenade exploded, and a flames erupted from the openings with swoosh sound.

We were moving before it had even exploded. I got up and moved, heading for the building my stick had been ordered to clear out. Sure enough, as I got to our building, a small hanger, I came across Lieutenant Muir, and the rest of my stick.

There were fourteen men in our stick. Lt. Muir, myself, PFC. Nicholas Mottola, PFC. Edward ‘whiskey’ Wiezerbowski, PFC. Robert Jones, PFC. Joe Mann, SFC. John Michaelis, SFC. Onroe Luther, Cpl. Siber Spear, Cpl. Lewis Brereton, PFC. Fredrick Browning, PFC. Paul William, PFC. Henry Arnold, and PFC Stanislaw ‘Ski’ Sosbowski.

When I got to our building the rest of the stick was holding up under a small scaffolding. Luckily some piles of empty oil cans were giving them cover. William, Spear, and ‘Whiskey’ were firing on anything that moved to our front. Muir and the others were trying to find out how in the hell to move. An enemy machine gun had pinned them down.

I slid into a spot next to Spear and peeked my head up, trying to find a target. I quickly saw a Babylonian who seemed to be directing orders. I switched my rifle onto burst and fired, the rifle shaking against my shoulder. The rounds jerked his body back. Muir came up behind us.

“Suppress that mg nest. E companies 3rd stick is going to take it out with a LAW.”

I stood up on his order, firing quickly and rapidly. I could tell that the mg wasn’t fortified. It had probably just been placed there. It returned fire, the bullets ricocheting off our cover. We ducked down, the bullets whizzing past our heads. I popped up and fired a burst from my rifle. The machine gunner almost zeroed in on me when he fired a long stream at me. I would later count three holes in the sleeves of my jump fatigues. This machine gunner was good. He would fire at us with sporadic bursts, or long, raking streams of lead. Muir fired a grenade from his A-27 grenade launcher, which gave us some time to fire on the machine gunner again.

Apparently the 3rd stick had gotten close enough to the position, because the nest exploded in an orange ball of flames. Muir gave a thumb’s up in 3rd stick’s general direction and ordered us to move out. We got up out of our cover and ran towards the entrance of our assigned hanger. The hanger doors were partially opened, and we were fired upon as we ran by the opening. We got on either side of the opening, preparing to enter the hanger.

After several minutes, Muir fired an A-27 into the hanger. He quickly slung the grenade launcher and pulled out his A-7 Viking smg. It was a small, hard hitting weapon commonly carried by officers. He moved in first, followed by Luther, Spear and Brereton. Sosbowski was shot on his way in. We pulled him back, and then I went in.

The hanger was mostly empty. Two Babylonian jet fighters lay in flames-Muir’s grenade had destroyed them both. Babylonian troops fired on us from cat walks above our heads, but the walks also provided no cover. And these troops were bad shots. Probably conscripts.

I raised my rifle and fired, my shots hitting one Babylonian in the chest and throwing him off the catwalk. I found another target and fired, and another Babylonian soldier was dead. The whole stick was inside now, except Sosbowski. He had been hit in the lower stomach, but he would be just fine. All this had happened in about ten seconds. I scrambled away from the door, ending up under one of the jets. Apparently there was no fuel in either of the fighters.

The Babylonians still ran around on the cat walks, using they’re advantage of height, while we used they’re lack of cover as our main advantage. The Shootout lasted little more than tem minutes. I got an additional five kills in the fire fight. Muir called us together. He looked us over quickly, making sure everyone was ok. Once he was satisfied, he began speaking into a handheld radio.

“Juliet two four, this is Kilo four six, we’ve taken the hanger. Enemy troops retreated into connecting buildings. Request permission to pursue, over.”

“Kilo four six, this is Juliet two four. Request denied. We’re leaving the side buildings for the mechanized infantry troops when they’re flown in. over.”

“Sir, I respectfully disagree. We can take these guys out now, over.”

“Its not my choice. General Urquhart wants us not to take unnecessary risks. Heavy resistance is expected in New Nimrud. He wants us to have all the troops available, over and out.”

That was it. We went around and checked the bodies for souvenirs-pistols, watches, or other items. We came out of it with relatively little luck. After that, we began to consolidate our gains. ‘Ski’ was sent back to us in a matter of hours. The bullet had hit some of his ammo, which almost completely halted the bullet, leaving only a nasty bruise. We were glad to have him back.

Within an hour after capturing the air field, we could hear the T-190 transport planes bringing in 1st, 2nd, and 3rd mechanized infantry divisions. I looked out at the airfield, amazed at the display of strength.

Each mech infantry division consisted of 16,000 men and 200 IFVs. The number of troops in my sight now was incredible. 48,000 infantry men and 600 fighting vehicles were preparing for their assignments. The 10,000 men who made up the 182nd airborne division were largely out of sight, though I did notice some shaking the hands of our infantry brothers. They were probably relatives.

Once the infantry were ready and prepared, the 182nd formed up to the NE of the airfield. We were now on the way to Nimrud.

The vomiting in the boat was originally in Saving Private Ryan which was copied by the old Medal of Honor first person shooter game which was copied by countless story writers... etc.

It seems some people like this story. I'm not totally into this story but I'll say why. It's an unending rambo spree where the weak-as-kittens Myan's are being slaughtered with no answer by the first person character so the total lack of risk makes each situation very predictable and repetitive. On the good side, it has good pictures instead of boring game screenies and with the action it is much better than those agonizing turn-by-turn encyclopedias most threads are about.

You know, I've noticed the thing with the Mayans, and every time I've gotten really POd at myself. i'll tweak that little problem, and I know that the sequel will be much better in this respect. Thanks for being honest. Should get an update tonight or tommorrow

The Ottoman tanks pulled back, firing their high velocity 76 mm guns at the approaching scandinavian tanks. I was crouched in the trench, watching the advance of the N-7 heavy tanks. The Ottoman projectiles were causing horrific casualties. any round that missed the tanks would hit the infantry following in its wake

The N-7's began to return fire, the dust flying up in the wake of the 90mm shells. The Mongol tanks, which had been almost eradicated began to attempt a counterattck. They were slaughtered by Ottoman tanks and anti tank infantry.

For the most part, The Ottoman infantry had retreated after the charge, Taking up strong positions across the desert. The Ottoman tanks followed, taking out a roughly a dozen N-7s. Our comrades gained the trenches and were now fixing bayonets.

I grabbed one guy next to me and asked what we were doing. He told me we were preparing a charge across the desert.
"Thats insane! They'll mow us down!"
"I don't give the orders buddy."

I told Burgett and Carlyle what we were doing. They just shrugged and got near the edge of the trench, waiting. I followed suit.

Once the army was ready, whistles began blowing, signaling the charge. We scrambled out of the trench, expecting a fiery holocaust of lead to hit us.

not one round came at us.

We almmost stopped, we were suprised. I knew the Ottomans had heavily fortified positions across the desert, and and that we were well within machine gun range.

Luckily we didn't, and we got to the ditch where I had called the artillery strike unmolested. Ottoman bodies lay on the ground, cut to shreads by the shrapnel. We reached the lip of that ditch and continued the charge. There was still no fire from the Ottomans. and then all hell broke loose.

Artillery hit us like a wall, cutting down hundreds of the first wave. The Ottomans opened up, scything their fire so that it would slowly cut through us.

I felt a burning sensation in my leg and fell to the ground. I quickly checked it out. A machine gun bullet had gone cleanly through my upper thigh. At first I thought it had cut an artery, but I could feel no signs of shock, so I got p and put my weight on it. It hurt like hell, but I could walk on it, so I continued on.

Most of our troops were now on the ground, avoiding the machine gun fire. The arillery kept us pinned, in some cases killing full squads. Some began to inch their way forward.

The Ottomans had us right where they wanted us. If they're tanks attacked now, it would be over. Our officers knew it too, because they began to grab men and bodily hurl them towards the Ottomans. I guess we got the jist of it, because within minutes we stood up and attempted a second charge.

We moved as quickly as we could. I could hear the sounds of machine gun bullets snapping inches away from my head. it was one my most terrible memory of the war.

The second attack bogged down after we had reached about two hundred yards of empty sand. The next push ended with similar results. this was it I thought. we're all doomed. We can't do this. Finally, one man, a sereant I think yelled "Screw this! I'm going up there and I'm taking out those bastards. Who comin with me?"

He charged, and we all followed him, our blood boiling. This time we didn't halt. We reached the Ottoman camp, and it became a running slaughter. men from both sides were falling by the score.

I ran by a tent and opened up on it, pouring lead into te cloth hut. I would later check and find three dead bodies. I didn't stop running during this, just turning so I could keep facing my target.

An Ottoman charged out of a tent near me holding his rifle by the barrel. He took a swing at me, which I was able to block with my smg. He picked a different target and bashed my leg, the same one that had been hit. I fell to the ground and almost fainted with the pain. He was about to hit me in the head with his weapon when one of my comrades shot him down.

I gave the man a nod of thanks, then watched as he was shot down at point blank range. I tried to stand, but now my leg wouldn't support me, so I dragged myself to a small pile of crates and waited for a medic. The rifle fire was still all about, I could hear the agonizing scream of men as they were killed.

After about two hours, a medic found me and dragged me out of there. I would later learn that the paratroopers, who we had made that charge to save, had been almost completely destroyed. only five divisions were still in existance. And so, for us, the battle was more of tie. We had halted their offensive, and they had destroyed our airborne forces. That night the army set up camp and waited for replacements. over ten thousand men had died crossing the desert. ten thousand men for worthless sand.

http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/extras/ww2/images/elalamein.jpg

http://www.historyonthenet.com/WW2/images/elalamein.jpg

http://content.answers.com/main/content/wp/en-commons/thumb/7/75/250px-El_Alamein_1942_-_British_infantry.jpg

http://www.modelsforsale.com/listphotos/HATAP006.jpg

this story is pretty cool.

YES!!! FINALLY ONE THOUSAND VIEWS!!!
I'll get an update real soon. my computer at home is messed up. waiting for some feedback.

The pics are a nice touch. Keep on posting!:thumbsup:Congrats on the 1000 views!

Holy hell i need to update this. expect one soon.

Update??:bump:

Real sorry about that. started school again and I've been busier than you could imagine. I'm workin on it.Thanks for being patient

Can we pleeeeaaase have an update?!?

Once again, i'm really sorry. Schools been crazier than a monkey with a light bulb. I'll get one asap, but it may be a while. please be patient. i'm busy as hell.

I'll be impatiently waiting.

Damn you, update! I shall seek out and destroy your babies!

:aargh: I want an update!!!:please:

If i don't have much hw this week then soon.

I know how it is.;)

Ok. not much more to go. I've gotten some of the next update finished, so expect something this weekend

Yessssss! An update this weekend! Yessssss!

:woohoo:

Yeah, finally. oh joy

Date: August 24th, 1675, Near Istanbul, Ottoman Empire.
It has been four months since the 14th army was gutted in a bayonet charge across the desert. The Ottomans, Mongols, and Scandinavians continued to fight vicious battles. Mayan tank divisions, fresh from slaughtering Iroquois and Scandinavian troops in the north, arrive to reinforce they're allies.

The 14th army is rearmed. Under General Beor, they load into LSIs' for an assault straight into the heart of the Ottoman Empire, and they began a journey into hell…

Account:
I had just finished sowing on my new sergeants stripes when we got the order to load into the landing craft. I grabbed my A-1, and belted on several bandoliers of ammo. All around me, troops were doing the same.

I took one last long drag on my cigarette, and threw it into the churning ocean. In the east, the sun was just beginning to rise. In the west, lay the sky line of Istanbul, the capitol of the Ottoman Empire.

Some of the newer, green, recruits were boasting on how they would ‘kill those bastard Ottomans’. Stupid bastards. They would probably die quickly. The load speaker squawked out our signal, and I got into my boat along with the rest of my squad. We would be the first wave, the shock troops.

I had long ago come to terms with my sea sickness, but the new recruits hung they’re heads over the sides of the boat and heaved. Carlyle rechecked his battle rifle, a nervous habit he had picked up from me. The assault boats were lowered from the Battle ships, and they moved out, moving rapidly through the sea.

I loaded the A-1 with a clip consisting of one blank for the new rifle grenades, and then seven armor piercing rounds. After that I briefly checked the rest of my gear. Finally, I fixed the rifle grenade onto the end of my rifle and waited.

The coxswain periodically called out time till we hit the beach. Finally he called out on minute. Behind us, the seventh armada opened up, the big Battleships and cruisers firing they’re en masse, while the small destroyers got dangerously close to the city, blasting at bunkers with they’re five pound guns.

Then the transport ships opened up, firing rockets and .50 caliber machine guns at the city. Surprise was complete.

Captain Baldr, who was in my ship, walked through our ranks, telling us what he had been told. “Expect 60%, 70%, hell, maybe even 80% casualties on this beach. Most of you won’t make it off this beach alive.”

The bombardment ended suddenly. The cities beach defenses were covered by smoke, giving it an eerie, evil look. “Thirty seconds! May your ancestors protect you!” The coxswain yelled.

The ship smashed into the beach, the ramp lowering to the sandy beach. There was nothing. No gun fire, nothing. We didn’t even get our feet wet. We walked around on the beach, shocked. I had been in more danger stepping off a ferry back home in Copenhagen. I saw the captain walking around. He looked disappointed.

We looked through the circular bunkers that lined the beach and found them deserted. The Ottomans must have pulled out during the bombardment. We quickly looted anything we could find, and then set up defensive positions.

Once the second wave arrived, we moved out into the city, accompanied by tanks. Supplies and equipment was being brought ashore, along with additional divisions, and artillery batteries.

Once we got the streets we spread out, the infantry moving on opposite sides of the road, the N-7s moving down the center. It was creepy. A city of 1,000,000 people, and not one was in sight. We reached the outskirts of the city about twenty minutes later.

The Captain found me and my men resting in the shade of an N-7. The sun had come up and it was hotter than hell’s furnace. The captain looked us over, and said “Sergeant, there’s a small farm town about a mile north of the city. I’m sending you with a recon squad, and an N-7 to check it out. Any questions?”
“Any idea on where the Ottomans went?” I asked.
“I have no idea. Yellow Bellied Bastards… ok, move out!”

I got up and picked my four recon men. “Carlyle, Surface, William, and… Charles. Grab your gear, lets go.” I climbed onto the tank and hit the hatch with my rifle butt. The tank commander popped his head out and looked at me curiously. “We’re going to a village in the north. Get the tank ready.” The tanker smiled as he slid back into his vehicle, shutting the hatch behind him. The rest of the patrol climbed onto the back of the tank as it turned and headed north.

It was an uneventful ride, a walk in the sun really. Within an hour we could see the village up ahead. We dismounted from the tank, moving out to provide it with infantry support. Carlyle and I moved out ahead of this force to the first buildings. We could hear the sound of metal being dragged across the wooden floor. There was a machine gun in the building. I ran back and climbed onto the tank and told the commander about the gun and which building it was in.

He slid back into his armored behemoth and the turret slowly traversed, taking aim. The big, 90mm gun flashed, blowing the building down. Smoke poured out of the windows. All hell broke loose. Small arms fire opened up on us. We returned fire, and the N-7 opened up with its .50 cal machine guns. The big 90mm gun flashed again, and another building was gone. We could just barely see the shapes of Ottoman infantry retreating. I fired my rifle grenade at them. I couldn’t tell who it hit.

I jumped down off the tank and moved forward. An enemy tank came speeding around the corner of a building, firing a tank round quickly, hoping to get a quick hit in. it missed, the round falling several feet short of our tank. Our tank returned fire, the round tearing through the Ottoman tank. Oily black smoke poured out of the open hatch.

Me and my infantry men advanced, the tank following behind. I turned into a side alley, taking cover behind a brick wall. Some Ottoman troops opened fire, and we returned it, watching for muzzle flashes before we picked our targets.

The N-7 came by and fired three rounds into the general area we were shooting at. Again another tank moved out of its concealment. It had been hidden inside one of the small houses, bricks stuck to its armor. It fired one round at us, knocking a hole into the brick wall we taking cover behind. Our N-7 returned fire, and another tank was up in flames.

The Ottoman infantry came back, opening up on us with everything this side of hell. We returned fire, and our tank pounded away at strong positions. The tank commander opened up the hatch and called out “Hey, we got some orders. We’re going to pull back to where we started the patrol and wait for more troops.” He shut the hatch and put the tank in reverse, but slowly, giving us covering fire. We ran back behind the retreating tank, using it for cover.

By mid afternoon, we were back where we had started. I made my report to the Captain and picked my lodging. It was a five star hotel in the city. As I fell asleep, I couldn’t help but to think about the short engagement. The Ottomans had fought tenaciously. It would be a long battle.


http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/48/Torch-troops_hit_the_beaches.jpg 14th infantry army troops hit the beach.

http://www.kmike.com/KWjpg/road1.jpg One of the tanks knocked out in our quick skirmish. Carlyle is walking by with his battle rifle in hand.

more later

About time:)

Awsome.Where are the pics from?

Should get another update soon

Good.:D:D:)

Ok. got almost all of the pictures i need. I'm gonna start on the update tonight. All i know is this: Expect it to be bloody. The invasion of Istanbul was one of the bloodiest in the whole war, and this battle (called 'Odin's Ridge') was the first real battle in the invasion. in the end I commited the 14th infantry, the 3rd tank corps, the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd marine armies, and at least forty other divisions against the Romans, the Mayans, and the Ottomans.

sorry. got grounded like the night i posted that last thing. it'll take me a while. real sorry

I'll be waiting even more now. Good thing i'm patient.:D

Thanks. Workin on update whenever parents aren't home. shouldn't be long now if they go out every night.

Good news! Tonight is the night. just need to get pictures

So, is it tonight yet? :P

Tonight is a very long night.

don't sy it. something came up.

That last update was magnificent. Keep up the good work!

September 3, 1675. D+10, Istanbul

In the initial days of the invasion, the assault force advanced rapidly, capturing an additional three cities along with Istanbul itself. However, rather than continue this advance, Scandinavian generals order the army group to dig in, and wait for the Ottoman's to counter attack.

The 14th army has been kept in reserve during the advance. However, a sudden and brutal offensive from the Ottomans, Mayans, and Romans threw them back into the fray. Their target: Hill 906, Called 'Odin's Ridge' due to the belief that any unit that attacks the hill will soon meet Odin himself.

Account:

I lay in a small ditch, my body partially hidden by some small bushes. I risked a glance, and there in front of me, lay our target. I could scarcely see the force of Roman parachute legionnaires moving about the hill. separating them from us was a long, elaborate maze of barbed wire, trenches, mine fields, and traps.

Behind us, Captain Baldr let out a low whistle that sounded like a bird. it was our signal.

"Second squad, follow me!" I whispered, and I got up and ran in a low crouch. I could occasionally make out the shapes of men from other companies, battalions, regiments, and divisions in the 14th moving with us. The Romans hadn't noticed us- the lack of pre-bombardment had insured that this would be a surprise attack. We reached the first line of defense at the hill- a long fence of barbed wire. Pulling out wire cutters, we cut through the fence quietly and quickly.

Once the full force was arrayed at the foot of the ridge, we got the order to move out. We got up into a crouch and moved up the hill. The next part was the most dangerous- the mine field. Fixing our bayonets, we crawled forward, poking the tips into the ground.

And then, we heard a voice yell something up above us, at the top of the ridge. A single machine gun opened up. Three men got up and bolted, and had their legs cut off at the knee by land mines. All hell broke loose. The Romans knew we were there now.

Machine gun and rifle fire tore at us as we continued through the minefield, crawling through inch after hellish inch. Some men tried to run, and were killed or horribly maimed for the effort. This wasn't a battle. it was slaughter.

I got through the mine field, taking up cover behind a big ant hill. Machine gun tracers zipped over my head, and I could hear the crack as bullets blew dust out of my cover. I leaned over to the right and looked up the hill. I could faintly make out the shapes of enemy soldiers on the hill. I raised my rifle and looked through the sights of the rifle and took up the slack on the trigger. The rifle buckled against my shoulder and I could only just see one of the men fall to the ground.

I could just faintly hear the screech of a mortar round coming, so I got up and ran over the ant hill towards the hill. More men were getting through the field and we charged, screaming like berserk animals. Bullets struck the ground around my feet. I Fired my rifle till it ejected the clip, and then I reloaded and continued to fire.

I could faintly notice the outline of a Roman 88mm gun turning to face us directly. I dove to the ground yelling “Get down!” The gun flashed and the soldier behind me and to the left disappeared from the waist up. His legs kept running for three more strides before falling to the ground.

I struggled to my feet and ran towards the gun. Several other men followed me. The gun fired three more shells in rapid succession and my group’s ranks diminished. The gun’s shells moved faster than the speed of sound- you couldn’t hear one till it was too late. Me and three other men reached a boulder at the foot of a small hill that housed the guns. The gun fired, but it lacked the traverse to hit the rock. The gun crew began firing on us. We returned fire, but were in a bad position.

One of the men had .30 caliber machine gun with a bipod and a rifle stock. It was one of the new Stinger light assault machine gun, a man portable weapon capable of 900 rounds per minute. “Can I borrow that?” I asked.
The man set the weapon on the ground and took off his ammo belts. “Go ahead.”

I handed him my weapon and ammo, and picked up the Stinger. “Give me covering fire!” They unloaded on the gun and I dashed off to the right, bullets kicking up dust at my feet. I got to a blind spot on the hill and climbed up, my finger beginning to take up the slack on the Stinger.

I got to the lip and ran over to the sandbags that surrounded the gun. I pulled the trigger and machine gun jerked, spraying the full belt of ammo on the Romans in sight. They were torn apart by the huge rate of fire.

I ducked back down behind the sand bags and loaded another belt into the gun. I stood up and noticed an opening against the side of the larger cliff. I spun and pulled the trigger as a group of Romans came running out of the hole. They were blown to the ground. I dropped the gun and hurled a grenade into the hole, followed by another, then a third. I finished with a ripping burst from the Stinger.

I signaled the men up and two of them came forward. They carried my rifle and ammo. “Where the hells the other guy?” I asked.
“The damn Italians got em.” One of the men answered me, handing me my rifle and ammo. I slung the rifle, deciding to keep the Stinger. We found a crate of grenades and spiked the gun.

“So what the hells in that hole?” One of the men asked.
“I haven’t a damn clue.” I answered. I pointed with the Stinger’s barrel. “Lets find out.”

http://www.ngaiopress.com/sw-pix/ger-gun.jpg One of many Roman 88's that were nocked out in this battle.

http://www.kmike.com/BrowningMG/T1205S1_files/RAPD9575.jpg The Viking .30 cal, a gun similar to the Stinger. It lacks the rifle stock.

What do you say? Worth the wait or what?

Definitely worth the wait.

Lock and Load

Happy new year! This year, I'll try and add more updates to this story. Vaya con Dios, 2006!

Hmm, you sure seem to be busy! If you still have a save from the old game, could you show us what the world looks like (but use ctrl-shift-m if it would spoil anything and just photoshop in the current borders).

Other Questions:
1. There are two sides on this war, as you mentioned in an update on page 2:
Your Side: You, Babylon, Mongolia, Iroquois
Maya Side: Maya, Ottomans, Rome, Sumeria
Are there any other civs currently existing? What were the ones at the beginning of the game (and don't tell me there aren't any- you've already mentioned that France, Egypt, and Carthage once existed!)
2. Any chance of knowing why the Babylonians were at war with you in the sequel? :D

America was still in existance, as was France, but neither were a major power. Scandinavia had taken England and India very early (MA's). Later Scandinavia took Carthage and most of Egypt. The war started when Maya launched a major invasion in Egypt and Carthage. In Egypt it went into an all out slug fest. in Carthage it was basically me sending as many troops as I could to Carthage. We stopped them at the capitol, and then pushed them back. Later there was a second invasion of Egypt, this one backed by new tanks (which will be in the next update, or the one after that, 'hint')

The Babylonians went to war with me because they found a nuclear submarine of mine in their territory. There had already been major tension between us anyway, so war was inevitable.

So if I'm counting right, there was 14 civs in the beginning, meaning this is a huge map. Good to know, as it will probably help as a reference if you mention anything about this later in your story.

Indeed. Working on next update, but its gonna be rough son of a *****. I also have to write a novel for a contest. I'll try though. I ask for patience though.

Working on it. need to finish it up and get some pictures.

Just a question, which probably has already been answered. About your screenshot problem. If you still have saves from the game, can't you get screenies from those.

I don't have any saves. their all gone. this is basically being done from memory, and some notes some friends and i made.

Spam: It has been 1 month...

September 3, 1675. D+10, Istanbul
Account:

I followed one of the riflemen into the tunnel, the second brought up the rear. The tunnel was dark at first, but gradually began to become lighter due to small kerosene lamps that had been lit, and hung off the walls. The Stinger would be hard to use in these tight quarters, but I couldn’t sling it, and I sure as hell didn’t want to leave it.

Several times we passed small intersections, but we kept going forward, not risking a turn down a wrong path. The lead man had fixed a bayonet onto the end of his rifle. His fingers were slightly trembling. I reached out and patted his shoulder, calming him down. He looked back and I nodded to him. He swallowed and turned around, facing the end of the tunnel. We kept walking, and I noticed the tunnel seemed to be going upwards, in a slope.

We emerged at the top of the hill. Roman officers were standing around a table, one of them pointing at a large map with a wooden pointer. The three of us stared, wide eyed when we realized where we were. This was the Head Quarters of the Roman parachute division. The man with the pointer looked at us with a surprised look, like it was some kind of joke, but not in an arrogant way.

I pointed the Stinger at him. “Arrendersi.” I commanded. He put his hands up and laughed, the other Roman paratroopers doing the same.

“You do not need to try and speak my language, soldier.” He said in surprisingly good Scandinavian. He set the pointer down and pulled his pistol out of a holster. He tossed it to me. I caught it, giving him a questioning look.

“It’s a custom,” He explained, “For a surrendering Roman officer to give his personal weapon to the one who captures him.”

I thanked him and put the pistol on a small table, and watched him as he ordered the paratroopers to surrender. Once he had done so, he sat and his officers sat down, all of them turning over their pistols to us. They joked, as though the whole thing was funny, but I was surprised about how much respect they showed us.

“What is your rank, soldier?” The man asked me.
“Sergeant.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Really? I had thought you an officer. You look like you are one.”

The door to the bunker opened up before I could reply, and Captain Baldr, along with other officers entered. We had already hid our pistols, anticipating that our officers would make us turn them over if they saw them. We were ordered back to our squads, and after shaking hands with the other two, I discarded the Stinger and ammo and walked to where my squad was.
Soon after I found them, we went back to Istanbul with our prisoners, passing by a large column of marines on their way to take over the hill. Once we arrived at the city, our prisoners were put onto ships for mainland Scandinavia, where they would be either sent back home, or, if they wanted, the option of staying and becoming a citizen. This was a common practice with the Romans, as we discovered them to be a nice people, and were found to be very excited about being citizens in Scandinavia.

I went to the nearest post office, one that was non-military and mailed my collection of pistols home, along with some newly received combat pay. When I returned to my squad, I found them gearing up.

“What’s going on?” I asked.
“The Captain came by. Told us to gear up and assemble at the docks.” Someone answered. I glanced around, and then grabbed my pack, helmet, ammo, and other gear. We walked to the docks, passing by other men going the same direction. We were ordered onto landing ships, and within the hour, we were steaming away from Istanbul, Cruisers and Destroyers flanking the transport craft. We were going back to Scandinavia itself.
…
I walked off the LSI into Trondheim, my legs stiff after two weeks onboard the ship. The MPs gathered us together and we marched heading through the streets, the woman throwing flowers to us as we went.

What the hell? I thought. Did they bring us away from the fighting just to parade us around the capitol? I waved back to the civilians, as did everyone else, many of whom had to be thinking the same thoughts I was. We turned down a road and marched through the front gates of The Fascist State Building, the home of Ragnar, and seat of the government. We stopped in the courtyard, standing at attention.

I adjusted my helmet, hoping I looked presentable. We were going to meet some powerful people. Two men walked out onto the balcony of the building, surveying us.

My God. It was Ragnar Lodbrok himself. He looked us over, and even from this distance, I could see the pried, the honor that he had permanently installed into the Scandinavian people, and those of her colonies. He stared at us, before speaking.

“You are here for a very important reason. This has been a terrible war. More Scandinavians have died in this war than in any other. The 14th Infantry Army has been fighting through all of it. It has, perhaps, the most impressive record of any unit in Scandinavia’s history. It is for this reason that I have these orders for you.” He paused. “I am ordering that, as of today, the 14th Infantry Army does not exist anymore.”

We stared at him in silenced shock. If a man at the back of the formation had coughed, I would have been able to hear him. Ragnar continued. “Take off your helmets, and your field jackets.”

We obeyed, still silent.

“Now, march inside.” He ordered. We stayed in ranks, and we moved forward, in a dazed shock. The front doors of the building opened up. We went inside. Ragnar’s voice sounded out. “You are now men of the Scandinavian 1st Guards Army; The most elite of Scandinavia’s fighting men.”

My eyes opened wide. I had heard of the Guards. They were made from units that had seen more combat than any other in their time. I was one of the most elite of the elite. I got into a line. When I got to the front, a man handed me a maroon beret, a new helmet, and a new field jacket. I thanked him and walked outside, putting on my beret and jacket, and buckling on my gear. The 1st Guards Army had been born.

http://www.worldwar1.com/itafront/jpg/fm2_a.jpg
A train load of Italian officers who were captured near Istanbul, many by Sergeant Leif Erickson.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/2a/Riflemen_aboard_a_jeep_and_trailer.jpg
Elite of the Elite: Men of the 1st Guards Army later, during the Istanbul campaign. Notice the new uniforms, and helmets.

In the civ 3 game, I guess this means that the 14th was promoted from vet to elite? They rock! Go kill some Ottomans! :goodjob:

Actually, It was a part of my friend's mod. Guards are an Elite Infantry unit with high attack, high defense, and the ability to perform amphibious assaults. They can't be upgraded, but can only be used by a Fascist or Communist government. The same is true with Guards Armies. Guards Armies can have 5 instead of four units. Guards armored units were also made. I had actually disbanded the 14th when I made the 1st. the 1st included 4 Guards Inf. units and 1 Guards tank unit.

Okay, that makes a little bit more sense...

Wow! A suprise twist. I like it. Can't wait for an update.

LMAO, you just noticed after 3 weeks? :rotfl:

September 13, 1675. D+20, Ottoman Empire. Small Town on the western edge of Scandinavian advance.
Account:

I looked up from my Automatic Rifle, listening to the sound of the tank treads. The other men in the town square all looked around, knowing that we had no tank support nearby. I reassembled the rifle and stood up, shouting my orders.

“1st Platoon, off your asses and on your feet! Sergeant Wright, get your men in order! Take up your positions!”

I ran across the square, telling the machine gunners to get their weapons ready, and to check their ammo supply. I turned to my radio man.

“Any contact with Division?”
“None sir. We haven’t been able to reestablish contact.”

I cursed and ran to a large crater at the northern edge of town, sliding into the hole with several men from Sergeant Gross’s 2nd Squad. I raised the Automatic Rifle and looked down the ring sight, looking down the road.

When the 1st Guards had arrived in Istanbul, we had been immediately thrown into the fray, expanding the beach head. We had rapidly discovered that because of our new Guard status, we would be kept on the front for as long as possible. The newer men were thrilled. The older men, the veterans, were simply pissed.

I had been given a battlefield commission and was promoted to Lieutenant and CO of A Company’s 1st Platoon several days ago. I had adjusted to the new responsibility rapidly, and soon my platoon had advanced at the head of the Company. And now, we were here, this small, abandoned Ottoman hell hole, with no radio contact, and probably no support. As far as I could tell, we were cut off. The only good news was we had plenty of ammo, and we had an anti-armor squad that had wondered into the town. We were ready for anything the Mayans, the Ottomans, or anyone else threw at us.

The rumbling increased, as the tank got close. One of the rocket teams had moved by a shattered mosque right beside the crater. The man carrying the AT weapon stood by the corner with his loader while the ammo-carrier dumped the rockets on the ground and pulled out one of the new carbines. I had never liked them due to the lack of hitting power. Even the new versions with selective fire weren’t a great improvement.

The first Mayan tank came around the corner and onto the street. My eyes widened. The tank was huge. It looked like a two story house with a telephone pole sticking out of the front. I had never seen anything like it before. Mayan infantry followed behind the tank, trying to stay low. We watched them approach behind the slow moving armored behemoth. I nodded to the AT man.

He turned and fired the weapon. A rocket smashed into the tanks side. We opened up on the surprised infantry. 2nd Squad’s machine gunners were hidden in the series of houses on the right side of the Mayan infantry, and they opened up the rounds tearing apart the exposed infantry. I aimed at a small group of men and fired. The rifle spewed lead at them and cut them down.

The tank stopped and backed up, as if in surprise of the round that had hit it. Its big gun turned towards the mosque. The AT gunner fired again, and this time the tank exploded with such force that I was lifted up off the ground. Sergeant Gross and one man ran in and slid into the hole, spinning around to face outward as he did. The next wave came in, and again we opened up on them.

Gross turned to me.
“Lieutenant, Mayas coming in with plenty of troops. Mind if we reposition the guns?”
“Go ahead Sergeant.”

Gross stood up and waved his back, yelling for his gunners. The machine gun crews ran out of the buildings and relocated one team to the second floor of the mosque, the other to a small building across the street from our crater. The next wave came in and got to cover before we could kill too many of them. They would stay behind their cover and fire their weapons at us while trying to advance. The machine gun on the top of the mosque went quiet. The men had been killed.

I turned to two of the men in the crater and told them to retrieve the machine gun and ammo, along with the dog tags. They got up and moved, the bullets kicking up dust and rocks all around their feet. The platoon’s mortars began to drop shells around the enemy’s positions as the men returned with the LMG. I turned to the Sergeant.

“We’ve got to get out of here. Pull your men back to base line Copenhagen.”
“Yes sir. Alright, 2nd Squad, move out!” We moved back, the rounds chasing after us, tearing up the ground. As far as I could tell, three men had been killed in the retreat. I turned around and sprayed the Mayans with the rifle before turning back and running.

I got to the next line of defense before I reloaded. The other men from Gross’s 2nd Squad set up, including the machine gun crews, who set up their weapons facing the street we had just run from. The Mayans came in and we opened up on them, cutting down several before they got down and opened up on us. A Mayan tank rolled in and fired, the round going in right above us and leveling the building behind us.

Out of nowhere, one of our N-6 Medium tanks came in and fired, the 76mm round hit the Mayan tank, doing no visible damage. It fired off another two rounds in quick succession, both doing no damage. The Mayan tank turret swiveled and fired. The N-6 went up in flames.

“Oh ****.” I said, watching our sudden savior go up in flames. “Cover me!” I yelled.

I stood up and charged the tank, trying to cover the ground quickly. I clambered onto the tank and pulled a grenade off my jacket and stuffed it down a small hole in the top of the tank. I spun as the hatch opened up and one of the Mayan tankers climbed out. I pulled the trigger, and his head exploded. Bits of his brain and skull splattered over the open hatch. His body tumbled back down into the tank as the grenade went off, killing the crew.

I jumped off the tank and landed hard, scrambling up to my feet in a mad dash back towards 2nd Squad. Another N-6 arrived, this one accompanied by Scandinavian Guardsmen. Our reinforcements had arrived. I thought the battle would be over soon.

I had rarely been more wrong.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/de/Sherman_tanks_passing_through_Bayeaux.jpg
A group of N-6 Medium tanks of the 1st Guards Armored Division pass through a small village on their way to the front. Our reinforcements, which would turn out to be a small Armored patrol, were from the 22nd Armored Regiment.

Yay update! Worth the wait!

Sounds like a classic Tiger vs Sherman tank situation. The pic also appears to be of Sherman tanks. Do I happen to be right?

Very nice update. :)

Very much right. Good job! The New Mayan tank actually was the Tiger Tank unit from 'test of time' thing. The tanks were tough bastards to kill, and the Mayans brought in tons of them

The N-6 hatch opened up and a lieutenant climbed out and jumped off the high profile turret. Like many of the Guards Armored tankers, he wore a maroon beret, a combat jacket and pants. A pair of goggles had been pulled down over his gritty face. He saw me and smiled.

“Good afternoon Lieutenant. Nice job with that Mayan Jag.” He said. “My names Ryan Schroth, 22nd Armored Regiment.”

I shook his hand. “A pleasure. Leif Erickson, 1st Guards Infantry Division. A company. Damn good to have you guys here. We could use the extra muscle.” I looked around at his men. “Where’s the rest of you?”

Schroth looked around and gave a hapless shrug. “This is it.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Schroth pointed at the Mayan tank. “The Mayans launched this huge offensive with hundreds of those sons-of-*****es. Shattered our lines. Units got all mixed to hell. Two of the guys in my tank are from a different unit. The only good news is, the Mayans had the same thing happen. Neither side can launch a major offensive.”

“So everything is FUBAR?”

“Basically. You guys are lucky though. This place is apparently some kind of road town. Everyone’s going to move towards it.”

“Including the Mayans?”

“Probably.”

“Damn it. How’s the artillery? Did they get hit?”

“Don’t think so. Form what I’ve heard, a regiment from the 3rd Guards Rifle got surrounded along with their artillery, but they spiked the guns before they got overrun.” He paused. “Is this thing still operational?”

“I only dropped a grenade in it.”

“Should be ok then.” He climbed up the tank and dropped down the hatch.

“Oh f***!”

“What?”

"What the f*** happened to this poor bastard?”

“I shot him after I dropped the grenade in.”

“You didn’t have to blow off half his f***in head. Jeezus. I already got enough crap on my boots as it is.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Its ok. Tanks in good condition. Grenade didn’t do much damage to the interior, just the occupants. Mind if we use it?”

“By all means.”

Schroth climbed out looked at me. “This’ll be ok. We just need to hold until our guys get their **** together.”

OMG!!! He posted an update in less than 2 months!!! :eek:

Thats amazing!

If I didn't deserve it, I would have taken offense at that. Gonna start studying for finals, so don't expect long, hugely epic updates, if any at all.

Cool, I like reading about stuff that happens to people.

September 14, 1675. D+21, Ottoman Empire. Lieutenant Erickson’s pocket of resistance

“Lieutenant. Wake up.”

My eyes snapped open at the voice and I pushed my helmet away from my face. One of the men from Sergeant Wright’s 1st squad stood over me, waiting for me to question him. I grabbed my assault rifle and stood up. It was late at night.

“What’s wrong soldier?” I asked, my voice sounding gravelly from the sleep.

“We’ve spotted a force of troops moving towards town.”

“So why don’t you just open fire and kill them? I’ve given the order.”

“Sir it looks like they have prisoners. If we open fire, they might kill them.”

“The Mayans have started taking prisoners?” I asked, slightly angry. I had heard of the stories, of unarmed Scandinavians being rounded up and massacred, starting with the doctors and non combatants.

“Apparently sir.” The soldier pasued for a second and licked his lips. “Sergeant Wright wants to know what his orders are.”

I thought about before I made my choice.

“Alright. Let’s have a look.” I turned to my radio operator, asleep in the corner. “Hey, Hearth, come on, get up.” I nudged him with my boot and followed the soldier out of the door. We arrived at Wright’s positions, and I could see the moonlight glinting off the helmets of the men marching towards town. There were about twenty five of them. In the middle I could pick out the prisoners, who were walking with their hands on their helmets. A wagon coming in from behind seemed to be carrying the POW’s weapons and supplies. I went into a bombed out house with one of the .30 caliber machine gun crews and watched them.

Schroth walked in carrying a Mayan bolt action rifle and quickly appraised the situation. “Oh ****.” He said, upon seeing the POWs. He turned to me. “We can’t use the machine guns. Too much of a risk of hitting the POWs.”

“Well, by all means, tell me what you would recommend.”

“Rifles, and bayonets. Get them in close quarters.”

I nodded my head. “I like how you think lieutenant. Why the hell aren’t you in the infantry?”

“Are you kidding, and miss the chance to ride around in 30 tons of armor plating with a cannon and treads?” We laughed even though it wasn’t that funny. I turned to the gunners. “Get out your knives and bayonets. Tell Wright and the rest of the men to do the same. On my shots, we attack.” One man ran out and stayed low. The convoy was about 75 yards away.

I set the assault rifle down and pulled the pistol I had taken from the Roman paratrooper general, and a trench knife. The pistol was a nickel plated .45. I had tested it and it worked beautifully.

The convoy reached the outskirts of the town after only a couple of minutes, and soon walked through Wright’s lines. I raised the pistol and picked my target, a Mayan carrying a light machine gun. He had ammo wrapped around his neck and chest. My finger took up the slack.

The pistol cracked and we were moving at the sound I jumped through the door way and tackled the closest Mayan soldier, knocking his helmet off and driving my trench knife into the soft spot at the back of his skull. The blade went into his brain and he died instantly. I rolled onto my back and raised the pistol as a Mayan soldier bore down on me and I pulled the trigger of my pistol twice. The first round caught him in the upper chest, the second in the nose. He fell to the ground at my feet.

I pulled my knife out of the first Mayan trooper and went for the next one. He raised his rifle to aim. And suddenly one of the POWs dug a knife into a spot behind his ear and twisted around the Mayan’s chin to the other side of his head. He had sliced him from ear to ear.

The Mayans turned and ran. Some of our men went after them, but most were content with taking the surviving Mayans who were in the best condition prisoner, and dragging those who we couldn’t help towards their retreating comrades. One of the former POWs told them something in Mayan, and then took one of the Mayan machine guns. He counted the bullets in the clip, tied an extra clip onto the weapon and tossed it down the road. He told them something else and walked back to the wagon carrying the Scandinavian weapons. The wounded Mayans looked at him stony silence. I walked over to him.

“What did you say to them?”

“I told them that if they couldn’t crawl all the way back to their comrades and get medical help, then there are enough bullets with the machine gun to take care of all of them.” He looked at me. “You ranking officer?”

“Yeah. Lieutenant Erickson, 1st Guards Infantry. A company.”

He shook my hand. “Staff Sergeant Karl Schmidt. 29th Airborne.” He glanced around the town, and my men. “These are all of my guys I could find before we were captured. We’re here to reinforce you guys. Lost the radio in the jump. The Mayans could miss a f***** plane, but some how they were able to hit the damned radio.”

“****. We could have used one of those.” I looked at his men, most of them carrying Viking submachine guns, rifles and carbines, or captured Mayan light machine guns. Further down the road, a machine gun began to fire. “Welcome to hell men.”

Will get pictures for the update later. exams are finally over! Hell yeah.

I find it funny on the line, "The Mayans can't hit the plane, but they can hit the radio." I also find it funny in Civ3 about how Tanks can't kill spearmen, but 1 hp barb warriors can.

I find it funny on the line, "The Mayans can't hit the plane, but they can hit the radio." I also find it funny in Civ3 about how Tanks can't kill spearmen, but 1 hp barb warriors can.
So true that

I just got Company of Heroes and i've been addicted for two weeks, but i'm working on an update. should have one pumped out soon. And at least CoH will give me some inspiration.

September 16, 1675 D+23

I walked into a small building that Schroth had taken as his CP. Schmidt was already there, leaning against the wall and about to dose off. I couldn’t blame him. I was exhausted.

“Any idea what the big news is?” I asked him, sling the assault rifle.

“Nope. Sounded important though.”

Schroth walked in, followed by one of his tankers. He carried a small Mayan submachine gun he had gotten his hands on. The other tanker carried a radio.

“Good evening gentlemen.” Schroth said to us, tipping his helmet. Schmidt grunted at him. I tipped my helmet but let the expression on my face show my mood. Schroth got the point.

“I bring to you, a Mayan radio we found in the bank of that tank we captured.” He turned and presented it to us as though it were some trophy. He had a grin on his face as he told us the next bit; “We’ve reached the 1st Guards Army HQ and told them pour status. They’re sending a whole regiment to reinforce us.”

“What?! You got in touch with the Army HQ?” Schmidt asked, a funny look on his face like he’d just been slapped when he’d least expected it.

“Which regiment?” I asked.

“Yours. A company is leading the way. From what I heard some captain was really pissed about his missing rifle platoon.”

“What kind of artillery can we get?”

“Three batteries of 155s’.”

I let out a low whistle. The 155mm Howitzers were new. They had destructive power that was unrivaled.

I turned to the paratrooper.

“How many men do we have battle ready, give or take?” I asked him, a plan being formed in my mind.

“Around a hundred and twenty, give or take.” He answered. “Why?”

“We’ve been holed up in here for quite a few days.” I grinned. “I think its time the scenery changed.”

“We’re attacking?”

“Yes Sergeant.” We’ll have one tank in support, the other, along with about thirty guys stay here and hold the town. There’s a strategy I heard of back during the fight in Carthage. The Mayans used it. Called it ‘Creeping Artillery.’. They’d plaster and area with artillery, and slowly advance it until everything between the attackers and whatever they wanted was gone. We hated it. Now,” I paused and looked at the radio. “I say we use that strategy against them. Sergeant round up about ninety men, weapons and ammo only. Schroth, pick whichever tank you want to take on the attack, leave the other. We head out in two hours.”

I left most of my gear in my CP, grabbing just a pistol, my assault rifle, and around 260 rounds of .30 cal ammo for the rifle. Along with frag grenades, smoke grenades, gas canisters, a bayonet, a trench knife, and a can of machine gun ammo, I was ready. Using the radio I coordinated with the artillery and gathered my force at eastern edge of town, where the Mayans had attacked most commonly. As we waited it was hard not to vomit. The stench of the corpses decaying in the hot sun made me gag.

One hour passed. Then two. All was quiet. I glanced at my watch, and looked around. No sound. I looked again at the watch, the second’s hand moving quickly.

“Okay.” I said quietly to myself. I raised a finger. “About three…two…one…now.” I brought the finger down hard as the first 155 shells began to plaster the ground on the outside of the town. The barrage smashed through the area, tearing up the thick debris, and throwing trees around as though they were nothing. Dirt was being sent up into the air only to rain down on us. The barrage hit the ground remorselessly, tearing huge chunks into it for about five minutes before it began to move at a walking pace.

“Guardsmen, lets move!” I yelled, getting to my feet and waving my arm forward. My men got to their feet and began the advance, hugging the artillery as closely as possible. Occasionally I ordered the advance to halt and had the artillery pay special attention to areas that I didn’t like or didn’t look damaged enough.

We reached the first bloodied Mayan slit trench after our first real pause. It looked like an observation post. There was no trace of the men who had been there other than pools of blood at the bottom. One man found a pair of boots with the feet still in them. We kept moving.

We were about five minutes out when we hit the first real opposition. A machine gun opened up off to my left. I could hear cries for a medic. “Stop here!” I yelled and motioned my radioman up. The two of us moved to the MG position, found it, and leveled it with concentrated fire. I had been told the artillery men had an almost inexhaustible supply of shells, and I had no intention of letting my men get killed doing what hundreds of pounds of explosives and shrapnel could do.

After another hundred yards shooting started off to my left, and rapidly spread down the line to my right. I hit the ground and told my radio op to do the same. I raised the assault rifle and began to hose the area in front of me as the operator adjusted the artillery fire. I didn’t know it at the time, but we had marched into a counterattack being led by the fiercest troops in the Mayan army: The Jaguar rifle corps.

Where are all da pics?

working on it. been kinda hard. also have to write something on Vietnam for a contest which is taking up a lot of my time.

September 16, 1675

The incoming small arms fire was coming in hot and heavy. It snapped and whistled past my head as I raised my rifle up sprayed the trees and hedges in front of us. My radioman coordinated with the artillery, and began to plaster the hedges in front of us. Still, the enemy gun fire continued to pour in.

I turned to the radioman. “Get your ass back to the tank and take cover. You’re no use to us dead!” He nodded his head and moved off, one of my rifleman moving with him for covering fire. I turned to another soldier.

“Trooper, go spread the word, we’re going to pull back!” I had to yell to be heard over the gun fire. The trooper got to his feet and began to run to the right, where Gross’s squad was.

I got to my feet and sprayed the entire clip of assault rifle into the brush. I could see faint shapes moving around, bringing up machine guns, and carrying away their dead. Our tank, the N6, fired its big gun into the brush, and I could make out the form of a tripod machine gun go flipping into the air.

My men would run back about twenty yards, drop to the ground and fire on the enemy with everything we had. The Mayans advanced, and we began to flip grenades at each other.

We moved back to the Mayan slit trench, and I jumped inside, along with my radio operator, and two machine gun crews.

“Hold here!” I yelled, and began to open up on the Mayans as they came towards us. These men were no raw recruits though. They moved easily through the withering fire, and I could tell they were battle hardened.

The N6 rumbled up and fired the 76, the recoil rocking the tank back. It’s machine guns joined in, and another round was spewed from the cannon.

I spotted a Mayan trooper carrying an anti tank weapon and opened up, spraying him with rifle fire. He dropped to the ground, and lay still. I hit him again with a three round burst, and turned back to the main fight.

My men were now being herded back, and were formed in something of an upside down V. The Mayans pushed in on our sides, and we brought in heavy artillery to bear, forming an effective shield.

I turned to my machine gunners. “Go set yourselves up on the flanks, and get all the ammo you can. Your gonna need it.” I looked back to my radio operator. “What’s the news?”

“Got word from command.” He said. “They want us to try and expand the perimeter. Their going to drop in reinforcements and supplies.”

I looked at him incredulously. “You’re kidding me, they can’t drop paratroopers here. The plans would spread them out way to much.”

He looked at me and began to laugh. “Who the hell said anything about planes?”

I didn’t reply, couldn’t reply. A Mayan soldier had gotten through our chaotic lines and was running at my CP with a grenade in his hand. My radio op turned his carbine onto full auto and we blasted away at him, the lead bringing him to the ground.

And then he gripped the grenade in his other hand and kept moving, crawling towards us.

I looked back at my radio op in shock. “Stubborn bastard.” Was all I said before I stood up and emptied the clip into the Mayan.

I crawled out and grabbed his body, and pulled it back into the trench. A rifleman searched him and found some papers.

“Jesus, lieutenant, he’s in the Jaguar rifle corps.” The soldier said to me, and as I thought about it, it made sense. These guys were good. Damn good.

I heard a strange thumping sound, and began to look around. The firing slowed to a trickle, as everyone paused to see what this new sound was. Even the Mayans laid off for a little bit.

A strange craft burst over head, followed by another. Eight troopers were on it, and I could tell that from how low it was, it was certainly overloaded. The troopers on the strange aircraft brought a machine gun to bear and fired onto the Mayans as it came down, and almost daintily landed in out perimeter. The men jumped off, the aircraft roared away, and another followed. I glanced at my radio op.

“What the hell is that?” I asked. He shrugged, and ducked down as the Mayans opened back up, aiming specifically for our new aircraft.

“That is a helicopter sir.” Was all he said.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/44/050429-F-1234P-026.jpg
This is an example of Scandinavia's first helicopters. It was slow, bulky, and vulnerable to any kind of fire, but well liked.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6c/Marine-patrol-okinawa-1945.jpg
Scandinavian Guards men advance. I'm at the far left, carrying the assault rifle.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/43/Machine_gun_MG34_rangers.jpg
Two Scandinavian infantry men try out a Mayan Light Machine gun, Type 71, a great machine gun made specifically for the Jaguar Rifle Corps.

w00t! Update!

Now, can we expect another one before November 30th? :mischief:

Lets hope. I'll try and get another out ASAP. Sophmore year is being a total . .. .. .. .. .

Is it possible to get a copy of your friend's mod? Yeah, I know its kinda late for asking, but I came here late.

That and, good story so far, Find it an interesting break from Quintallis's (Sp?) Story... Though you could update more...

Yeah I know. This is what I get for going into 12 different writing contests. I have that little itch on the roof of my mouth that only a gun barrel can scratch.

I'll check with him on the mod, but don't get your hopes up. Even if he still has it, he may not let me put it online.

Thanks... Just thought that I'd ask and hope... Itch that only a gun barrel can scratch... That's a new one! I can't think that that's a pleasant itch either!

12 different writing contests? 12! What the heck are you thinking!

Not exactly sure. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

finally some updates! like your story so far. will the helicopters advance or not?

Wow, 8 months and no update?

Anyone home? Hello??

Hey!
Sorry i've been gone so long, got a job and everything.
While I dont intend to end The GPW, I'm working on a new Civ Story of the AoI, so keep an eye out for it

Due to extreme writer's block, I am temporarily end the GPW, until I can get some fresh ideas.

However, I am starting up a new story, based on america's rise as an Imperial power from 1895 to 1920, based off of El Justo's Age of Imperialism Scenario. I'd ask all of you to check it out, for old time's sake.

Dont worry, the GPW will be back