The last of the great European Kingdoms would slowly crumble. The sound of armored vehicles, the whine of heavy machinery, and the great roar of artillery echoed across the English landscape. The Khmer Interior Ministry had drawn up new plans for great, bold new cities in England; the only major city to survive would be the northern city of Coventry; beyond that, all would be razed and the populations shifted. The first step was to take control of the acres chosen. That would be the task of one Major Ramachandran.
Years of toiling as one of the few non-corrupt Corporals in the Indian military had paid off for Vishnu Ramachandran. As the Khmer rolled through during the first century of Suryavarman II's reign, and the country was re-laid, the king had personally chosen officers from the conquered land to lead new recruits. It was a gracious gesture designed to show solidarity with the populace...and it had worked. The Indian population had warmed to their new rulers quickly, and harmony was re-established. It had helped that the conquerors and conquered shared a common religion. Slowly, through successful leadership and awarding of military honors in Operations Khyber (the Ghazni take-over) and Tripuranchati (the blitzkrieg to Jerusalem), he had been awarded the position of General. Now, at the age of 52, it was time for one final act of gratitude to the Empire which had given him so much.
The battle lines had been drawn, the men divided. The Major had command of one battalion of the Empire’s crack troops; 300 men who were willing to die for their nation. Hopefully, with their superior technology, it wouldn’t have to come to that. Three helicopter gunships flew patrols, monitoring the situation at hand. The center of the land the battalion was to defend was a small town and larger grazing areas. A tributary to the Thames flowed through, providing limited cover to the Marines that lurked there. The radio on the major’s vest crackled to life.
“Sir! We’ve completed preliminary reconnaissance!”
“Report.”
“We’re surrounded sir. First Company looks to be the bulk of these troops; our best estimate is roughly 1000 men, sir.” There was a pause. “That’s only First Company. The total enemy strength looks to be around 2500 men, 50 artillery – if you can call it that…cannons, by the looks of it – and a few horseback riders doing patrols.” The major gnashed his teeth. The odds were more than eight-to-one in the enemy’s favor. Hopefully some tactics could wipe them out.
“Where’s their command located?”
“They’ve set up rudimentary dirt defense around point Epsilon, sir. We believe their command to be situated atop the hill.”
“Good work. Have the rest of the patrol get back here.”
“Yes sir!” The crackled ended. The major rubbed his chin, thoughtfully gazing at the area around him. He had divided his men into 4 Companies, each with 75 men. Not much, but probably enough. Their mechanized strength was probably enough to take cover, and there were reports of a draft in the neighboring cities…if he was lucky, most of the soldiers would be green recruits, ready to flee at the sight of their advanced weaponry. The artillery was mostly with First Company, along with Ramachandran’s top lieutenants. He pulled out a chart, studied it, then hit a button on his radio.
“Lieutenant Shang, do you read, over?”
“Sir, we read you loud and clear. Over.”
“Okay, this is the plan. They have their command at point Epsilon. Prepare the men for some nice old STING. Ramachandran over and out.”
The Lieutenant considered the plan and looked over the area. It broke all technical rules of war, but they had to get the job done…
“Zhou, Qin, Li! Get into the Gunships, pronto!” The three pilots dropped everything, grabbed helmets and jumped into their seats. “Okay, I want three gunners in each Gunship. The major wanted hell….and that’s exactly what we’re gonna raise.”
At 0630 hours, the Gunships dusted off, their mechanical whine slowly growing quieter and quieter as they gained altitude and moved further and further away. It would be about 15 minutes before they reached point Epsilon, and in that time the troops would have to move. Shang had taken the risk of splitting up his company into roughly 3 platoons: each had about 20 men, the six remaining at Control including Shang and the top artillery operators. The range of these behemoths had expanded over the years, and with sufficient training by skilled operators, were like giant sniper rifles. The radio on Shang’s vest jumped.
“Red One, this is Green One. We have assumed our positions. It looks like the troops are still sleeping, sir.”
“Okay, good. You know the drill….make sure their command crew is dead before anything.”
“Yes sir!” The pilot turned around in her seat. “Okay boys, you got those tubes ready?” Her query was met with a sharp salute. The pilot turned on her radio again. “Green Two, Green Three, get ready for STING.”
“Yes ma’am.” The simultaneous accession was music to her ears.
At exactly 0645 hours, point Epsilon (known as Command Hill to the English) was rocked by heavy rocket fire. The white tents of the command were obliterated, and in the ensuing chaos it was estimated another dozen men were dead. If they were lucky, less experienced commanders (or none at all) would take the field. This was accompanied by a salvo of tank fire, blowing down the wooden picket lines and walls set up. The Tanks rumbled over the earthen defenses. Finally, rifle fire began responding, and a cannon or two was set off. This left dents in the armor of a few Tanks, but nothing noteworthy as First Company moved on. The infantry of the company quickly assumed positions as explosives were laid onto point Epsilon by the Gunships above. A final few shots, then the drop of the Gunships to a better altitude for weapons fire. The racketeers onboard dropped into the camp just as the gates were blown down and the troops rushed in. By now, at least half of the enemy troops were gone, and the rest were still blearily getting up and grabbing arms...easy pickings for trained soldiers. By 0850 hours, point Epsilon was routed, prisoners taken, and ammunition scrounged. The old ammo may not have worked so well with newer models, but it worked, and that was what counted.