The War of the crazy Women

The Game:
Playing Arabia, on Emperor level, Civ3 PTW
24 civilizations initially, 10 remaining so far.
2 big continents:
- One to be totally conquered by Arabia (Iroquois and Japan at agony)
- One with England (northeast), Arabia (middle west and center, former French and Korean land), Spain (on a peninsula, west of Arabia, accessible through a chokepoint), China (north), India (southwest), Germany (middle east), Russia (southeast).
Celts and Scandinavians are on separate islands, pretty backward.
Arabia just starting the industrial age ahead of the others, but with England and Russia close.

Special modification: Guerilla is hidden nationality and treats all terrain like roads.

I did not talk about the whole game, just about part of it, involving a war over Spanish soil, and some of its consequences on the world.

Throughout the Spanish war, meanwhile on the main continent, Arab troops were finishing conquering the Iroquois and the Japanese, and later invaded the Celts who were positioned on a separate island (a map will be posted probably later)

Disclaimer: Any resemblance with known personalities, characters, songs or other events is purely coincidental

Spain has been at war with England for some time now, a war best known as the “War of the Crazy Women”, referring to Isabelle and Elisabeth respectively.

The true main reason of this war remains unknown, despite the fact that the two countries have been fighting for years now, causing the loss of several troops on both sides…

Spain has been for a long time one of the weakest countries in Science & Technology, based on the feudal system, whereas England was considered as one of the most advanced countries.

But the Spanish troops were renown for their bravery. In fact, it all started when Spanish troops, mainly swordsmen and spearmen, patrolled the Arabian-English frontier in the New World. At that time, England and Arabia were close allies, fighting the Chinese, whereas the Spanish were hostile to the Arab government, especially after the fall of France, Spain’s neighbor, to Arabia.
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The sun was shining over the former French capitol, Paris. Abu Bakr was visiting the city, renown for its numerous vestiges. Great city he thought… But the main reason of his presence there was not tourism. Far from that. He had called for a general meeting. War against the French had just ended, and all of France was under Arab domination. And now, he was concerned about his Spanish neighbor, whose army was patrolling near the French cities.

“The Spanish are abusing our kindness, by sending all these troops through our lands”, started Abu Bakr. “What do you think about it Uthman?” he then asked his military advisor and supreme army commander.

“Our army is much stronger than theirs, your Majesty. They fear our infantry and cavalry. We shouldn’t bother much about them. They are of no threat for the time being.”

“Our people are disdainful of their culture”, added Petra, the cultural advisor, daughter of one of the former leaders of an Arab nomadic tribe – a beauty of its own. She was so beautiful that Abu Bakr had ordered a city to be named after her. “We should have no problem in assimilating them into our own culture!”

“In my humble opinion”, added Uthman, “they have come through our lands hoping to grab some towns that we might have left behind, during our war with France and China. But now that we have conquered France, and that our war with China is over, we should ask them out.”

“And risk a new war?” wondered Abu Bakr. “They are weak, but if we turn west, we’ll be weakening our other borders. Don’t forget that there is a strong civil resistance in most of the new conquered cities, and that we need time to ensure security.”

“Then why don’t you bring in the English?” noted Jaafar, Abu Bakr most trusted foreign advisor. “Getting England into the war will keep both our neighbors busy. Besides, Elisabeth does not like Isabelle at all.”

A light flashed through Abu Bakr’s eyes.
“Jaafar! What would I do without you? I’ll discuss this issue with Liz. I think it is time I accept her invitation for a cup of tea.”

‘As long as it is not the invitation to join her in her milk bath, it’s okay with me’ thought deeply Petra, unleashing a huge sigh.

“And call Scent of a Squaw for me!” ordered Abu Bakr.

“What?!” wondered Jaafar, feeling that Abu Bakr was going to exclude him from the meeting with Elisabeth. “This blind man?”

“This blind man was once a great general Iroquois!” shouted Abu Bakr. “He has lost his sight in an explosion in the beginning of the battle of Salamanca, when he was defending the city against our troops. And yet, he kept commanding his army, and managed to keep your army at bay for weeks, when you were in command back then, Jaafar!”

“But…”

“No arguing is possible. Talk to the hand!” said Abu Bakr, as he put his hand in front of Jaafar’s face. “I’ve made up my mind. Besides, he has this thing with women. He can recognize their character by the scent of their perfume. He knows how to talk to them, that’s why I need him!”
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Analysts suspected that a secret mutual agreement between Abu Bakr and Elisabeth was established, aiming to kick the Spaniards out of Arabia, back to Spain.

It is still uncertain if at some point, the Spanish government declared war on Arabia, trying to seize the former French cities on the French channel, which might have brought England into war to aid the Arabs. Some even say that the Spanish troops had even managed to seize one city, but the city was soon taken back by the Arabs and razed, fact still denied by the Arab officials, who state that the Spanish took the city from France and burnt it down afterwards.

Nevertheless, this was surely a good opportunity for the English to declare war on Spain, honoring their agreement. Rumors stated that long time before, Elisabeth was pretty jealous of Isabelle’s beauty and youth, and she was heard several time swearing and vowing to destroy the young Spanish leader.

“One day, I swear, I would make the world get rid of this awful arrogant pimp!”
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It was a tough day for Lt. James, who was leading a small patrol group to the east of Shanghai, a Chinese city captured by the Arabs. The group had paused near the city, and reports stated that the Spanish army had units in the area as well.

It’s been a couple of years since James had joined the army. And today, was the 3rd anniversary of that day. It was the day he had left his friends Cliff, Kirk, Jason and Lars, in order to join her majesty’s muskets.

These were the good old days back when they were kids. James’ father, in the army at that time, had moved to Munich shortly after the city had fallen to the English, during the Anglo-German war. There, he met the others, whose fathers were his own father’s brothers in arms. Except for Lars. Lars was a cool kid they met in Munich. He had joined the group of English boys, and together, they had formed a small musical teenagers band, playing in the bars for the happiness of their neighborhood. They were called the “Sultans of Swing”.

Tears would come to James’ eyes as the images of those days that now seemed so far away, flash through his mind. He had recently heard about Cliff and Jason, who had joined the army later on, and Kirk who had joined the Royal Navy. But he had no news from Lars.

He remembered the last conversation he had with Lars, when the kid wanted to follow James and join the English army, despite being a German. Lars was struggling within. But James was there to try and reason him.

“Home is not a home, it becomes a hell, turning it into your prison cell!” argued Lars. “Advantages are taken, not handed out while you struggle inside your cell! It’s now my chance to prove myself to the world!”

“What the hell! What is it you’re gonna find? You’ll seal your own coffin!” shouted James.

A shout woke up James from his dreams.
“Orders from her Majesty! War is declared against Spain!”

“So the rumors were true!” thought James, as he stood to grab his musket.

“No need for that musket sir!” noted the message carrier. “We have a fresh arrival of rifles, straight from London sir. These weapons will increase our range and firing rate. Our task is to accompany our knights, our foot soldiers and longbow men, in case of a Spanish counterattack.”

“It will be a piece of cake then… gather the men” ordered the Lt.
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Not far from there, Antonio led his group of spearmen and swordsmen. For some time he had wandered through the new Arab lands, searching for some area he could claim to be Spanish.

Antonio was a fine leader, a very tough opponent not to be taken lightly by his enemies. Throughout his journey, he had met a young and beautiful Arab lady, Salma. The two fell in love, and Salma vowed to follow her love wherever he goes. But the Spaniards in general disliked the Arabs at that time, and so, she changed her name to Carolina.

“Captain Mariachi!” shouted Gomez, Antonio’s right hand.

“What?” answered Antonio, quite a bit annoyed as he was trying to get a few moments of intimacy with his fiancée.

“The English have declared war on Spain! Hordes of knights are coming this way!”

“What? Gather the men! Let them be ready! I’m coming. And you my love” he said by turning towards Carolina, “go an hide some place safe. It’s not a place for a beautiful woman to be.”

“But…”

“Do not argue! Just do it!” he ordered.

Then, getting back to his men.
“What’s the status, Gomez?”

“Sir, our first line of spearmen has fallen. We managed to stand firm, and caused them heavy losses to their initial wave, but then they overwhelmed us by a combined assault of foot soldiers, longbow men and knights.”

“We need to inform Spain of the situation here! Who’s the fastest messenger you’ve got?”

“That would be me sir”, answered Gonzales. Gonzales was a rather short and small guy, which clearly helped him in slipping past enemy lines.

“Then Gonzales, your orders are to get as soon as possible to Spain, and ask for reinforcement. Just go, and go now!”

And so, the first armed contact started on Arab ground, near the English border. The Spanish troops were brave, but there was no way swordsmen and spearmen could repel charges from English knights, backed by foot soldiers assaults and longbow men arrows.

Antonio knew that the situation was pretty desperate, as Spanish troops and reinforcements had a long way to travel through Arab land before reaching the battlefield, whereas England’s major cities were not very far away.
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That same day, some 200 miles to the west, on the thin channel known as the “French Channel” that linked Spain to the continent, Father Serra heard about the news. Gonzales had reached him early in the afternoon.

That was quick thought the priest. He gathered the men around him. These were all fine men most of which had never seen a battle. He wanted to announce to them the news of war, and pray with them what could be their last prayer.

“Say your prayers my brave ones, and don’t forget my sons, to include everyone! Tuck you in, warm within, keep you free from sin, till the Englishmen come! Sleep with one eye only, gripping your spears real tight…”

After the prayers, part of the men moved forward and headed east towards the battlefield, whereas another group remained to dig some trenches and fortify the position on the French Channel, blocking the only land route to Spain.
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Despite the war, England was starting to be more and more industrialized, and its economy was redressing, and new improved troops were formed. Moreover, the English troops were benefiting of a Right of Passage agreement over Arab lands, which accelerated their arrival to the battlefield. England was hence growing stronger and stronger, to a point where it could even threaten the Arab dominance in the area. It was clear that the defeat of Spain would mean the encirclement by England of all the Arab settlements in the New World.

Of course, it would take some time before the English pushed the Spaniards away from their border and back towards the French channel. So far, the English were indeed suffering losses, especially due to brave Spanish counterattacks, but the Spanish obviously were counting much more casualties.

But Abu Bakr was no fool. He noticed that the tide was in favor of the English, and knew that some day would come when the English would claim the whole area as their own. He was meditating in the cathedral that was just inaugurated a couple of weeks ago in Paris, when two of his guards interrupted his thoughts.

“Sir, we have here a Spaniard who claims he wants to talk to you” started the first guard.

“He says he vows revenge against the English for some reason. We think he’s crazy or something, but he insisted in talking to you,” added the second guard.

“What’s this story all about?” asked Abu Bakr, clearly annoyed.

“He claims he was commander of a Spanish group near Shanghai, and they were being attacked by the English. It seems the English caught his wife, and killed her in front of him, as he refused to surrender…”

“He was giving the English a hard time too…”

“Bring him in!” interrupted Abu Bakr.

The two men brought in the young Spaniard.
“Uncaught him!” he ordered. Then staring at the man: “What’s your name? Who sent you?”

“My men call me Desperado!” answered Mariachi.

The two guards started to laugh, causing Abu Bakr to stare at them.

“Hmmm… I understand you’re so desperate to killing Englishmen, and you’re seeking revenge. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“They killed my fiancée!” raged Antonio.

“You know son, such things happen in war. I’m sorry for that.”

“She was of Arab origin! Her name was Salma!”

Silence prevailed for a couple of minutes, as Abu Bakr was now concerned.
“Are you saying the Englishmen slaughtered an Arab woman, in order to force you to surrender? Is that so?” Then turning to his men: “Go and ask general Sahaf, chief of intelligence, and ask him to confirm this man’s story!”

This was the opportunity for Abu Bakr to change plans.
“And you, Desperado, are you willing to secretly fight the English? I could give you the command of some fine well trained men. Your task will of course be to attack English troops as you like, provided that you do not reveal your sources and the country you are working for. And of course, if you’d get caught, we will deny we have ever met you.”

“So you are suggesting I conduct a guerilla warfare against the English.”

“Call it whatever you’d like. The troops are training in Arabia and will be sent soon.”

“I’m a man of honor, always looking for the best. I won’t deceive you.”
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“Your Majesty, our troops have successfully pushed the Spanish back to the French Channel. May I suggest we stop the war and make peace with them?”

That was Adams, Elisabeth’s foreign advisor.

“Nonsense!” came the reply. “We shall fight them until we exterminate them! I want Isabella’s head, and I want it now. I make this a personal matter.”

“But Milady…”

“End of story! Which side are you on? Go away, I’ll expect your resignation tomorrow, first thing in the morning!”

Adams had very radical pasts in which he was involved with groups which used radical means to achieve their goals. He was seen by the English government leaders as a crucial link between themselves and the radical groups which dared oppose their power. He was liked also for his character, as England needed men who had no bad conscious when it came to the facts of war. But now, Adams was getting more and more annoyed at Elisabeth’s attitude, as she was blowing away all chances for peace.

“Call Miss. Thatcher for me. I’ll appoint her prime minister. She’s a woman, at least she will understand my reasoning!” ordered Elisabeth.

‘Hmmm… yeah right…’ thought the assistant, as she went out to call for Thatcher.
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Meanwhile on the field, the English had managed to push back the Spanish out of Arabia, onto Spanish soil. They were now heading for the French Channel bottleneck.

Lt. James’ unit had fought so far from Shanghai, all the way to the area near Khurasan, the last Arab city before reaching the Channel. It has been horrible days, full of fighting and killing. His unit had indeed suffered losses, but it was nothing compared to what the Spanish had. Everyone knew that there was no way spears and swords could match the firepower of a rifle, especially in the open field.

James had just received the orders to team up with the division already positioned near Khurasan. The most important battle was about to take place. The Spanish had fortified on the mountains just west of the French Channel, denying the land access to Spain.

As he arrived there, he ordered his men to get some rest, and walked to meet the commanding officer of the division, and report to him. On hi way, he passed near a memorial, on which were listed all the men that had fallen on the battlefield, on this front. An there it was… James was shocked… his throat got tied, and he could not speak a word. His aid could not understand what was going wrong. But there it was… Among the wounded, was Cliff. Cliff, his old young friend, had been fatally wounded during the first English assault against the Spanish strong point. James could hardly believe it.

“No! Not you Cliff! Not you!…” he cried as he rushed towards the agonizing body.

Cliff could barely talk. James held him against him…

“Why am I dying?” whispered Cliff, as he was drowning into some sort of hallucinations. “Kill, James, have no fear, lie, live off lying. Hell, hell is here. I was born for dying… Life planned out before my birth, nothing could I say… Had no chance to see myself, moulded day by day… Looking back I realize, nothing have I done… Left to die with only friend alone I clench my gun…”

“Hush little Cliff, don’t say a word…” James stopped talking as he saw Cliff giving his last breath. Tears drowned James’ eyes, as he could not believe what had happened.

“Bodies fill the fields I see, hungry heroes end … Only son, but he served us well. Bred to kill, not to care…” commented the division commander, as he approached James.

Then, barking at James:
“And now, on your feet soldier! Just do as we say… Finished here. Greetings, Death…”

Then looking at James’ aid, as the lieutenant would not react:
“He’s yours to take away, back to the front.”

“But sir…”

“You will do what I say when I say back to the front! You will die when I say you must die! Now, back to the front you coward, you servant, you…”

James looked at the commander as he stopped talking. The commander fell dead on the floor. A spear had crossed his heart from the back. In a quick reaction, the aid grabbed James, and ran towards the back of the camp, seeking shelter behind the riflemen line. English soldiers were panicking, as they have been caught in the open by Spanish horsemen and spearmen.

“There is no escape, and that's for sure… this is the end… We won’t take any more… Say goodbye to the world you live in…” whispered James, as he was being carried by his aid.
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“How does it look down there?” asked Commandante Guevara, as he arrived to the fortified Spanish position, that controlled the French Channel.

“Sound of gunfire comes through the night,” replied Father Serra. “Killing and hatred, it's a terrible sight. Reports come in of the heavy attack, message is seen: we're moving back. Preparations are made for the journey back. It's a survival, supplies are packed.” Then, looking back at the Commandante: “No more nights in this eternal hell, destination is simple, we move out.”

“You left from the line!” shouted Guevara.

“Your turn to kill”, replied the priest.

“What do you say?” asked again Guevara, as the loud sound of rifles was getting closer and closer.

“Aha, killing time…” cried the priest, as a gunshot hit him in his chest.

The rumour was spread about the priest’s death. It was now the Spanish soldiers who were starting to panic. Hope changed camp, and the fighting changed spirit. The Spanish line was broken down and their units torn into pieces as they met with the English riflemen…

“And he knew what he needed to keep us alive”, shouted one soldier, talking about the priest. “Now we’re doomed!”

“No time for cowardice, kill and survive!” ordered Guevara.

But it was to no avail. The English troops had set a foothold on the top of the mountain, overcoming in the same move the first natural obstacles, hence securing the French Channel, and opening a way to reach for Spain. They fortified on the heights, thus denying all future Spanish attempts to fully close the door to Spain.What was therefore supposed to be a superb Spanish counterattack turned out to be a major disaster for them.
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“This has to stop!” thought Abu Bakr. “English troops have moved into Spain, and more are coming through. We must find a way to help the Spanish, otherwise England will become stronger. Of course, this should be accomplished with utmost confidentiality.”

“It was expected Sir”, noted Jaafar. “There was no way that Spain could hold back the English. England is the second world power you know.”

“Then get me the Spanish ambassador at once! We’ll have to help them out should we need to stop the English of growing. Soon they’ll be all over the place!”

As soon as the Spanish ambassador arrived, Abu Bakr confirmed his peace with Spain, and amended this treaty by a Right of Passage agreement, thus allowing Spanish reinforcement to reach the battlefield much quicker. But this was to no avail since the English still dominated their foes on the ground, taking the fighting all the way to Spain.

“You’re too great, Abu Bakr”, acknowledged the ambassador.

“Then why is Isabella still furious at me?”

“Well, you have already caused some harm to Spain by letting the English through.”

“Women!” thought Abu Bakr. “I will never understand them! Okay then. I’ll make some more gesture in this matter. Hopefully she’ll be more polite next time I see her!”

Then turning to Uthman, and to Ibn Sina, his chief scientist:
“You will select your finest officers and professors, and send them at once to Murcia. They will land in Tours, and head towards the Spanish city. No need to go to Madrid, as it is pretty far away from us.”

Then addressing his trade advisor:
“You will also order for shipment of saltpeter as soon as possible. They have to reach Spain at most in a week’s time!”

“Yes sir!” acknowledged the advisors.

‘For once the all agreed’ calmly sighed Abu Bakr.

And so, on the order of Abu Bakr, Arab military experts and scientists were secretly sent to meet with their Spanish counterparts, teaching them some new combat skills and the use of gunpowder, that would allow the Spanish to form a better army in order to resist the English assaults.

Secret trade routes were established too as Arab merchants exported saltpeter to Spain, in order to speed up the process. Needless to say, all the costs were fully sponsored by the Arab government.

However, it would take some time before the results were to be reflected on the field. The Spanish troops still lost ground to the English attackers who were now arriving in waves, and were able to seize Zaragoza, a southern Spanish city, giving them a foothold on the Iberian peninsula.
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“Any news from England?” asked Abu Bakr, as he and Jaafar were left alone in the room.

“Nothing really, except that Elisabeth has sacked Adams, and appointed a certain Thatcher at his place”, noted Jaafar.

“Anything we know about this… what did you say her name was again?”

“Thatcher… People back there do nickname her the ‘Iron Lady’…”

‘Oh nooooooo’ sighed Abu Bakr.

“It seems that she and Adams had been enemies for a long time”, continued Jaafar. “These were the news I last had from Sahaf. On top of that, he confirmed this Desperado’s story.”

“Where is he now by the way?”

“The Desperado guy?”

“No, Sahaf.”

“He’s in Khurasan, checking the latest events of the front.”

“And the Desperado guy?”

“We sent him to Arabia. He’ll be training with some of our troops, and then will be sent to perform some sabotaging and pillaging in England.”

“Yeah, I heard about this mission. Are you sure it will work?” wondered Abu Bakr.

“Well, if we want to avoid a direct confrontation with England, I believe training secret armies is the best way to hinder their advance and diminish their power. On the other hand, there is someone here I would like you to meet to.”

Abu Bakr looked at his advisor, who continued.
“He was part of the English government, and was recently thrown away. Since then, he has sworn to take revenge and bring back freedom to the people of England, and in the same way, get rid of Thatcher.”

Abu Bakr was amazed.
“Adams?” he wondered.

“Himself!” interrupted Adams as he entered the room. “I am here to put my services for Arabia. Jaafar and I have already discussed my integration as head of the IRA.”

“IRA?” Abu Bakr was a bit confused.

“International Revolutionary Army. They officially do not belong to any country, but of course, Arabia will sponsor all their missions, training and equipment. They will work for us and will totally be controlled by us”, explained Jaafar.
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“Land ahead!” shouted one man.

“Barcelona?” asked captain Kirk, commander of the H.M.S. Douglas, a huge tri-deck frigate, one of England’s most modern ships.

“Aye sir! It seems so.”

“Then we’re almost there. Men! Send the info to the other ships so they prepare for landing.”

It has been weeks, almost since the beginning of the war with Spain, that the Douglas had set sail towards the Iberian peninsula. The Douglas was escorting a couple of galleons from the Royal Navy, that carried troops towards Spain. Earlier on, troops had landed in the northeast of Spain, near Seville, but it was Barcelona, Kirk’s primary target.

“With the fall of Barcelona, and if the news of the fall of Zaragoza are confirmed, then we have encircled the Spanish. Victory is ours guys! Ending is near!”

With the vision of Barcelona clearly getting closer and closer, the crew began to chant one of Kirk’s favorite songs, giving themselves the courage for the battle that was to come, the chants were answered by some other chants from the nearby vessels.
Then, in a final word to boost his men courage, Kirk spoke:
“Our brains are on fire with the feeling to kill, and it won't go away until our dreams are fulfilled! There is only one thing on our minds: Seek and destroy!”

Two days later, the city of Barcelona had fallen to the English, isolating the city of Toledo in the west. More English ships were soon to arrive on the Spanish western coast, as a naval blockade was established on the Spanish cities of Toledo and Valencia.

nice story!

There was nothing Commandante Guevara could do to stop the bleeding of his army. It was just a matter of days before Spain was to be totally vanquished, and his army wiped out.

The English troops poured through the French Channel, and more troops were landing in the north and in the west.

“Senorita Isabella”, he said, as he visited Isabella in Madrid. “I would suggest you head for Murcia, and establish your HQ there. The English surely will head towards Madrid.”

“Carramba! Are you nuts? Never will I leave my people!”

“Senorita, it’s not what I meant. Or at least got to Chartres, and ask for help from Abu Bakr!”

“I shall never beg for anything!” she shouted.

‘Youth’ sighed Guevara. Had he been on that throne, things would surely have been different he thought.

He left the palace and went himself to Chartres, a former French city on the Iberian peninsula, held by the Arabs. There, he sent a message to Abu Bakr, explaining the situation Spain was facing, as well as detailing the English advance through the Sierra.
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“Message from Chartres! It’s from Guevara, the Spanish general!”

“What does it say?” inquired Abu Bakr.

Upon reading the message, Abu Bakr knew it was time to react. Quickly, he ordered troops to close the roads leading to the French Channel, claiming that the construction of a railroad there was imminent. Of course, by doing so, he would deny more English troops the access to Spain through the Channel. At least, delay them.

“Uthman, what is the status on those units that were training in camps in Arabia?”

“They are already on their way sir. They will reach Tours within days. Their secret mission would be to aid the Spanish against the English in Spain, under Arab infantry peacekeeping coverage.”

“What about our lands here?” asked Jaafar.

“Earlier on, I had called for troops and workers. They also had set sail and headed from Arabia towards the New World, in order to strengthen the Arab conquests out here. And there are lots of engineers that are accompanying them.”

“Huh?”

“Yes sir. These combat engineers are specially trained to follow our troops and build in not time some road and rail road connections, and improve infrastructure in the event of a war.”

“I see”.

“But,” noted Uthman, “the process will take some time before any guerilla unit could reach Spain. In the mean time, the English are consolidating their positions in Iberia, and threatening the northern Spanish cities, from a naval invasion. All we could do, was to position an ironclad in the area, the ASS Monitor, under the command of captain Sindbad, from which we can monitor all the English movements.”

“That is why, it’s about time we had a meeting with Elisabeth and Isabella,” concluded Abu Bakr, “and try to bring them back to reason. It’s about time we had some peace on this continent. This will also buy some time for Spain, should the peace talks fail.”

“Shall I contact their ambassadors?” asked Jaafar.

“Please do so.”

“Should we stop sending them saltpeter?” asked the trade advisor.

“No! Keep the shipments arriving there. We will only stop these shipments if they jeopardize our peace with England. Otherwise, we are free to trade with whoever we want.”

“Er… Sir…” interrupted Petra. “Does this mean that you are inviting the English and Spanish leaders to come to Arabia?”

“Yes dear. We will hold a meeting in Paris, in the new library.”
‘Good’ thought Petra. ‘Now I would see what these two look like’.

Then turning to his domestic advisor, Ashrawi, Abu Bakr added: “You will attend this meeting, and will conduct the peace negotiation for that matter. I will be in the room with Scent of a Squaw. I would need his advice on this.”

“But sir…” jumped Jaafar.

“Please Jaafar, not again! You have more important things to take care off! Go get these ambassadors now!”

“Yes sir…”

‘Some day, I’ll get rid of this guy…’ thought Jaafar, as he left the room.
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“Lizzy!” shouted Thatcher, as she hurled into Elisabeth’s private chamber, disturbing the leader in her milk bath, drinking tea.

“Not now, Maggy?”

“It’s quite important, an I believe you would like to hear this.”

“Tell me then”

“Abu Bakr has confirmed his peace with Spain, and signed a Right of Passage agreement with them”, started Thatcher.

“So what? We also have one.”

“I agree. But it will expire today.”

“And? We can renew it. What’s the big deal?”

“Arab troops have blocked the access to the French Channel, denying the passage to our troops, to reach Spain.”

“What?” shouted Elisabeth as she suddenly stood up in her bathtub.

“Er… Lizzy…” whispered Thatcher, as she looked at her leader.

“Er… Yeah okay… Pass me the towel, and go on!”

“All our troops that were transiting through Arabia were called back.”

“So what?” Elisabeth started to boil, impatient. “We will send them by sea, and we will land in Spain, if the passage is blocked. That’s it?”

“No. There is more”. Thatcher’s voice tone was now more serious. “Several of our units were ambushed and totally destroyed near Rheims, as they were heading back to England. And some others near Shanghai too!”

“You can’t be serious! Were the attackers Arabs?”

“We could not tell. We spoke to the Arab competent authorities, but they had no idea about that. They assured us that they will investigate what happened.”

“Yeah right! They won’t do anything of that kind!”

“So far, these armed men call themselves the IRA.”

“Huh?”

“International Revolutionary Army. We do not know who is behind them, but one thing we know is that they are led by Adams, your former advisor… my personal enemy…”

“What? Adams?”

“Elisabeth, this is getting serious. Abu Bakr has invited us to Paris for a meeting. We’d better accept his invitation and discuss all of this. Isabella will be there too. I bel…”

“And you think I will go and meet this…”

“Stop it for God’s sake Elisabeth!” shouted Thatcher.

“Maggy, we’ve been friends for years and years… You can’t do this to me.”

“We will go there. There are a lot of things to discuss. Especially this ‘ambush’ story. At this time, we cannot afford to engage in a war with Arabia, the world greatest power, whether we like it or not. Plus, don’t forget that they have built strong ties with China lately. We have to beat Spain before they get Arabia’s full support.”

“I am highly frustrated by this guys’ behavior. He really is starting to annoy me! And this…”

“Lizzy!”

“Okay…” sighed Elisabeth. “So be it…”
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“Commandante! Message from Arabia!” shouted Gonzales, now transferred to be Guevara’s personal messenger. He was the fastest messenger ever. Some even nicknamed him 'Speedy'.

“Good or bad?”

“It looks pretty okay for me.”

“Then give it to me!”

Guevara read slowly and carefully the message. It described the slaughtering of several English units on French soil.

“Carramba! Antonio hijo de p***!”

“What? The Desparado?”

“Himself”, nodded the Commandante. “He has taken action against the English troops. It seems that he has been sponsored by the Arabs, to hit hard the English. That is what we would need here. A guerilla warfare, to get rid of these Englishmen. Get me a contact with Uthman! I would personally like to discuss the sending of such men here.”

“It seems Antonio is part of the IRA, under the command of this Adams”, noted Gonzales. “But this is a mere consolation for us, as it does not help us much out here.”

“Whatever this is, this is good to hit England. Soon, they will reach London and burn it down to ashes! It’s time for revenge! Don’t waste your time! Now go!”
------------------------------------------------------

The city of Barcelona was now well garrisoned by English troops, as more and more arrived from the mainland, by sea. Toledo was now fully isolated, and Kirk and his men now rested a while in the city’s cafés, awaiting for new orders.

“Captain!” came a sailor. “We have orders to move to Valencia.”

“Okay, gather the men then!” he ordered.

“Oh no! not now! We were just enjoying it out here!” said another sailor.

“I know young man, but it seems that we have captured Seville, and another group is heading towards Murcia. So Valencia is the next city to be taken, so that we complete the conquest of the Spanish coast, and encircle Madrid and Santiago, forcing them to surrender.”

The young man was no one but Jason. Kirk had not recognized him at first, as Jason has grown up and changed since they were last together. Jason was just transferred to Barcelona, and was to be part of the landing troops that were to attack Valencia.

After the men left to pack their stuff and get ready to go, Kirk and Jason stood, looking at each other. Then, in a single move, they hugged, tears nearly filling their eyes.

“Jason, it’s been a long time!”

“I know Kirk. This bloody war had separated us all. Did you hear for Cliff?”

“Yes, I did. I had received a message from James. The poor guy was completely devastated!”

“James! Bloody hell! Where is he now?”

“Last thing I heard from him is that he was positioned in the Sierra, preparing to move to Murcia I believe, as part of the plan.”

“Any news from Lars?”

“None, whatsoever.”

“I wonder what he’s up to.”

“Wherever he is, his memory remains…”
-----------------------------------------------------

Whery good, eager for more

It was late in the evening, the sun had completely set on the southern mountains of Spain. James’ unit had dug in on the hills of the Sierra. To the west, a couple of miles from there, laid Murcia, a very calm and peaceful Spanish city. His unit has been in the area for several weeks now. While they were operating as a separate platoon deep in the mountains, they had linked up with 2 other riflemen regiments. A knights brigade was also on its way. James’ order and those of his division were to move to the city by dawn.

The division commander had decided that two ambush patrols would be set out that night.
“James”, he said. “Your platoon will be off to the north.”
Then turning towards another officer: “You Mike, you will go west towards the grasslands, and Alan, you take your platoon south.”

“What about the east?” wondered James.

“No need for the east. It’s Arabian territory there.”

Around midnight, the three platoons moved in separate directions. It was a silent night, with a clear sky. One could move only relying on the moon’s light.

It was around 3 a.m., James’ platoon was just a couple of miles north of the camp.
“We’ll position ourselves here”, he ordered. “Keep…”

He suddenly stopped. An explosion broke the stillness of the night. It came from the south. It was shortly followed by machine gun and small arms fire.
“What the hell…?”

Taking his binoculars, he observed the situation in the camp, and he could see as far as the second platoon, who was patrolling in the grasslands beneath. The second platoon was taking heavy enemy fire, and James had spotted a reinforced foreign troop that surged from the east, heading towards the camp.

“It cannot be the Spanish! They are carrying weird weapons, and moving fast!”

He could now see the 2nd platoon, Mike’s group, moving back into the darkness to link up with the camp. There was no sign of Alan and his men. They were probably already wiped out. James gathered again his men, and prepared to support the camp. He knew that the knights brigade will also soon arrive in support. But despite the moonlight, it was somehow dark, and there was a lot of movement. It was quite impossible to know who was who.
------------------------------------------------

“Ladies”, started Ashrawi. “We are here gathered this morning to discuss the last events that have put our respective countries into serious turmoil. It is the will of the Arab government to put an end to the war that has been raging on its soil and in the neighboring countries.”

Abu Bakr and Scent of a Squaw sat at the end of the room, leaving Ashrawi to conduct the peace negotiation. To her right was the representatives from England, and to her left, those from Spain.

The two female leaders kept staring at each others, almost not hearing the peace negotiator’s speech. Ashrawi noticed that soon enough, and interrupted her speech:

“Ladies, we really need to go through this. We have lots to be done and to discuss.”

“It’s this old spinster staring at me!” shouted Isabella.

“No more!” raged Elisabeth. “The craps rolls out your mouth again! You haven't changed, your brain is still gelatine, little whispers circle around your head; why don't you worry about yourself instead?”

“Who are you? Where’ve you been? Where are you from? Gossip is burning on the tip of your tongue! You lie so much you believe yourself! Judge not lest ye be judged yourself!”

“I’m holier than you!” added Elisabeth.

“ Ladies, you know noth…” tried to intervened Ashrawi, before she got interrupted by Isabella again.

“Before you judge me take a look at you, can't you find something better to do, point the finger, slow to understand, arrogance and ignorance go hand in hand…”

“Enough is enough!” shouted Abu Bakr from the back of the room. “We are here to discuss a peace process, not to listen to you ladies whining around!”

Then, whispering at Scent of a Squaw’s ear: “Women! Really, I will never be able to understand them.”

This remark made the Iroquois general smile. “Aha! There is this young brunette, pretty sexy I would say, and she’s got a strong character. But yet, she is pure, young and inexperienced. She might nee some help and support some day…”

“Isabella?” inquired Abu Bakr.

“Yes, the one with a Spanish accent.”

Abu Bakr was amazed. ‘How the hell did this blind man know she was a brunette in the first place? Geez!’

“But beware of the other woman, Elisabeth, this bony face purple headed woman. She will do us harm some day. Just watch out for her.”

‘Amazing! He’s done it again!’ thought Abu Bakr.

“But there is another presence in the room, near the English leader. It seems her character is so strong, and she barely laughs. Well, may be I’m wrong. It could be a man!”

“No, you’re right. It’s that Thatcher woman. Well, you’re not that far away.” smiled Abu Bakr. “She’s nicknamed the Iron Maiden.”

“I’m sure you mean Woman.”

“Whatever…” smiled the Arab leader.
-------------------------------------------------

It was half past ten in the morning. The battle in the Sierra was almost over. The leader of the guerrilla unit that led this fight looked over the scene. There were dead bodies all over the place. He had lost one complete unit, and he himself was wounded. His aid did not have the same chance.

“Our men fought bravely”, he noted, “but they still need some training!”

Then looking at his wound: “Hey private, can you pass me some extra powder you have?”

Grabbing the powder, he plugged it into his wound, and set it on fire. In a couple of seconds, the wound was sealed.

‘Weird guy’ thought the private.

Sgt. Rambo was from Roman origin. He had emigrated to America where he led a life of a boxer, and was to become known as the ‘Italian Stallion’. Shortly after, he joined the American army during the Arab-American war. But his country had fallen into Arab hands, and since then, he had led a normal peaceful life. Until recently, when he received a visit from an officer he had known a long time back, and served under his orders. He was required to get back into action, but he refused the proposal. But now, the word was that this same officer was captured by the English, and Rambo vowed to bring him back.

“Sarge!” shouted one guy. “There is an enemy riflemen unit heading towards us from the north, and a group of English knights heading here from the east. What shall we do?”

Keeping his calm, Rambo picked up a red tissue, and made a knot around his head.
“We’ll take care of the horsemen first. Men, hold your position and be ready to fire.”

Then grabbing in each hand an AK-47, he moved forward facing the incoming riders.

The battle was over actually before it really begun. As the knights showed up, the high rate of fire of the guerrilla machine guns quickly slaughtered them… None of these once fine men survived the massacre.

“There is no one left anymore”, said one fighter.

“And the riflemen spotted to the north are retreating!” noted another one.

“Let them go”, ordered Rambo. “We’ll meet them again.”
------------------------------------------

“So Ladies”, said Abu Bakr, after his peace negotiator had detailed all the live issues. “What do you think should come next? We clearly should talk about things that do concern us most, these guerrilla actions we heard about lately.”

“Our secret services have found about the guy who caused the murder of English troops in Arabia”, started Thatcher. “He calls himself the Desperado. This Desperado guy was last spotted in some yard, in Scotland.”

“Scotland?”

“Yes, it’s the northern part of our kingdom.”

“I don’t see what he has to do with us”, replied Abu Bakr, clearly annoyed. The fact that Antonio was in England did surprise him.

“What the hell is he doing in England?” he discretely whispered to Scent of a Squaw. Clearly the others could not hear him as he was still sitting at the other end of the room.

“We’ll have to ask Adams” replied Scent of a Squaw. “As I last heard, he left the IRA and wanted to work solo, deep in the English territories.”

“I see. So we can use him to our cause then.”

“I believe so”, confirmed Scent of a Squaw.

“He conducted a guerrilla action inside your territory, and now moved into England from your borders Abu Bakr”, interrupted Elisabeth.

Abu Bakr remained calm.
“This Desperado as you call him, doesn’t he have a Spanish connotation name? He might have been a survivor from the slaughtering your troops conducted against the Spanish out here. He might seek revenge, which is normal…”

“It was war!” argued Elisabeth. “Not slaughtering!”

Abu Bakr signalled to Isabella not to react. He’ll be handling this.
“Our country has nothing to do with it Elisabeth. We do not have any relation whatsoever with this guy”, affirmed Abu Bakr.

“But in any case, this guy and more of these so called ‘freedom fighters’ will try to infiltrate into England, through your borders. I am therefore severely annoyed at this. From now on, Abu Bakr, England has no longer the wish to keep the Right of Passage treaty. We fear some clandestine immigration from Arab conquered territories into our nation.”

“Elisabeth, are you aware what this means?” firmly asked Abu Bakr.

“I am looking after England’s internal security Abu Bakr”, replied the English leader.

“Then I think Arabia will need to look after its own security as well. Elisabeth, call back all your troops that are on our territory, or consider yourself in a state of war!”

This last statement surprised everyone. But Isabella secretly saw an opportunity in this, whatever Elisabeth’s answer would be. Should England withdraw its troops, this might give Spain the chance and time to reorganize. Otherwise, this would mean that Arabia will join the war on Spain’s side. Of course, she hoped that war occurs between the two…
-----------------------------------------------

El Commandante was in Murcia. Things were going rather bad in for him in Spain. After Seville, Valencia had recently fallen, and the latest news were that Santiago and Madrid were now completely surrounded. Of course, this morning, he had realized that Murcia was saved by some troops who came out of no where.

‘If only I had such forces under my command’ he thought, as he walked on the beach. Valencia was an old city, and yet, it did not have any harbour. The city was pretty poor, and lacked basic infrastructure.

Guevara was observing the horizon, when suddenly he noticed several grey dots covering the sea. And these dots were growing bigger and bigger.

“Sound the alarm”, he shouted, as he ran towards the nearest military post. “The English are arriving from the sea! Men, spread the word and prepare to fight!”

But as the time passed by, the dots were now clearer. Guevara grabbed his binoculars, and watched carefully. ‘These are not English ships’ he thought.

At the same time, Gonzales arrived next to him.
“You have a message from Uthman, sir. He asks you to expect the arrival of special troops. They will land to the north of Murcia. He also says that you will take the command of these troops, to liberate the Spain.”

“That’s what these ships are all about!”, he rejoiced. “So be it! As of now, tremble oh mighty England, as you are about to face the worst guerrilla war ever. Spain will be free again!”
-----------------------------------------------

“Okay men! I hear Santiago is ours now. We will seek shelter there” ordered James to his platoon. “This will give us a place to rest and gain back our strength.”

It was about noon, and the men where pretty tired as they lacked sleep. Last nights events were pretty demoralizing as they watched their fellow countrymen, and units from their own division, get slaughtered by unknown fighters, that used much more powerful equipment. But now, they were about to get some good rest, and some good sleep too.

The fall of Santiago was somewhat motivating, and now, news were that it was a matter of days before Madrid, the Spanish capitol, would fall to the English as well.

‘The fall of Madrid will surely cause Spain to collapse once and for all’ was the general thinking. But that of course, they did not know about the ‘extra forces’ that were arriving and landing near Murcia.

Upon arriving to Santiago, James units were given a day of rest. Then the following day, they were to move to Valencia, where new orders would be awaiting.
--------------------------------------------------

Elisabeth was quite puzzled. She did not expect Abu Bakr to go that far, but then again, she shouldn’t have pushed the Arab leader too. It was too late to withdraw from her position.

“Abu Bakr”, she started, trying to reason Abu Bakr. “England will shut down its borders as it will not tolerate hostile incursions into its territory. Unless you ensure England that your troops will position themselves on the frontier and will make sure none of these unknown armed groups go through. Otherwise, England will have to shut down the borders, and will have to keep its troops in Arabia to hunt down these fighters.”

“And since Arab troops are not enough to look after the borders, that is why England will keep its troops on Arab soil, at least for a while”, added Thatcher.

Abu Bakr carefully stared at each of the ladies. Then he leaned forward, and grabbed his hot cup of tea, sipped some, and put it back on the table right in front of him.

“You two are missing the point here”, interrupted Abu Bakr. “Should England decide to keep its troops here, then this means war with Arabia. And that’s final!”

The two English leaders then looked at each others. Backing up would mean a great political defeat, that would do them no good.

“Abu Bakr”, said calmly Elisabeth. “Our troops will remain in Arabia, and will quell any hostile armed group. Whatever the consequences! And don’t tread on me!”

Abu Bakr stood up.
“Then ladies, you know what this means. It’s liberty, or death… what you so proudly hail… The meeting is closed.”

“So be it! Threaten no more! To secure peace is to prepare for war! You don’t stand a chance against England, Abu Bakr!” shouted Elisabeth. “Our troops are all over the place, while yours are practically inexistent.”

But what Elisabeth did not know, and only the high Arab command was aware of, is that hundreds of fresh cavalry, infantry, and other fighters were arriving to the shores of Rheims, in these new transports, in just a matter of days. From there, with the new French rail road, these troops could reach anywhere, any hot spot, in not time. On top of that, the war with the Japanese and the Iroquois was now over, and the whole continent secured, and this meant that more and more troops were to be made available for a war campaign in the new world.
-------------------------------------------------

In Spain, things were still going okay for the English. Madrid was seized, and the siege of Toledo was brought to an end as the city surrendered to the English. The Spanish only held Murcia that was now protected by hordes of armed men.

Uthman had called back Rambo as a special guerilla operation was to be mounted against Russia, further south, as the Russian showed annoyance and interference in Arab affairs, and especially that the Russians supported England by establishing sea trade routes between St. Petersburg and Liverpool. Rambo’s mission was to help the guerilla disrupt the Russian’s communication lines and supplies, as well as spread terror amongst its population, forcing them to back off their trade deals with England, hence isolating Elisabeth from its allies. Besides, it seemed that this famous officer Rambo was looking for was now held somewhere south, deep in Russian land.

Guevara was hence now the sole leader of the guerilla in Spain. His mission was to free all Spanish cities from their English occupant. ‘Not an easy task to do’ he thought, but Arabia had given him hundreds of very well trained men to accomplish this job.

More and more troops were arriving to the shores of Murcia, and Guevara had wasted no time in reorganizing them into several groups, and setting up the plan of re-conquering the peninsula. The Arabs in the mean time had moved from Tours, and captured Zaragoza from the English, hence securing the southeastern coast of Spain, and started setting in place a rail road that soon would link Tours to Paris and other cities.
------------------------------------------------

“Kirk! Jason!”

“James!” replied the other two, as they waved for their old friend.

“We had news that your unit was being transferred to Valencia!” started Kirk.

“We were hoping that we would not be moving anywhere before seeing you here”, added Jason. “We are really happy to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too guys” said James as he hugged his friends. “It’s been tough out there lately… Lots of blood, wounds, killing and slaughtering… I thought I would never make it.”

“We heard for Cliff”, said Jason.

“Yeah… Sad but true… But now, we’re here, the three of us, and nothing else matters…”

The three friends paused in a bar over a couple of drinks…

“At several moments, after tough battles, seeing all these dead in front of me”, said James, “Life it seemed will fade away drifting further everyday. I was getting lost within myself… Nothing mattered… No one else… I had lost the will to live, simply nothing more to give… There was nothing more for me, and I needed the end to set me free…”

“We can almost write a song using these lyrics”, laughed Jason.

“Yeah, good old days” thought Kirk. “Remember when…?”

The evening passed by as they exchanged their personal stories and versions of the war, and remembered the old days when they used to sing in pubs and bars in Munich…

Suddenly, by 1 a.m., an alarm bell rang out over the whole city. It was one of those sounds you hated to hear, as they meant clear and present danger.

“Armed men approaching from the south, and taking position in the mountains!”
----------------------------------------------

Back in Paris though, there was now a kind of internal political crisis. There was no way that Jaafar could stand the fact that Abu Bakr favored an Iroquois officer, Scent of a Squaw, over him. So he had vowed to get rid of the Arab leader.

Jaafar had returned to Najran, a city in the center of the main Arab land, that was now designated capital of the entire Arab world. Again, a decision that did not please Jaafar, as he always considered Mecca to be the capital.

There, he met with a bunch of conspirators, who shared his political and fundamental views . It was clear that during Arabia’s several wars and expansion, tremendous cultural changes were to take place, as people from different nationalities were to join the Arab nation.

“Friends, countrymen, Arabs!” he started, as the members of the assembly cheered him. “We are gathered here today in order to discuss the way our current government is driving our beloved country towards disaster. This policy of rapid industrialization has resulted in a rapid rise in the level of investment in the industrial sector in our main cities, which in turn resulted in a terribly low productivity in rural cities, high corruption, lack of highly-skilled workers, poverty, etc. This has affected our people, our culture…”

The members still did not really know where that was leading them. whispering could be heard out load throughout the room.

“Friends, I say this situation has to end! I say the Arab nation should hold back to its original traditions, and rather than adopting those of the conquered nations, we should impose our own! We have to stop this corruption, help the poor! And to do this, I say we have to fight! This government has to go down!”

The murmuring went now louder and louder.
“I do not believe in this culture assimilation mumbo jumbo” shouted one man. “How are we supposed to fight? We have no weapons!”

“No need for weapons my friend. All we have to do is lead the poor to riot, to stop working, to claim their rights… We could send men out to sabotage areas near main cities by making the environment un-exploitable, forcing the government to send workers clean the mess done… And on the long run, the people will get fed up and ask for the government to resign. Gentlemen, actions will start as of today!”
----------------------------------------------------

Following the threat that hostile troops were approaching Valencia, the English troops under the command of general Moore rushed to establish a defense line from Valencia to Santiago, to be known as the V-S line. The main threat was of course to come from the south, as the Arab military presence in Chartres was still rather weak. Still, Madrid was also being reinforced as it covered the whole English flank, and the back of the V-S line.

The Arab guerilla led by Guevara now was in clear sight of Valencia. The fall of that city would surely cause the line to be broken, and almost isolate Santiago. But what he did not know is that the small skirmish he expected to occur was to become the decisive battle for the liberation of Spain.

Late that day, the guerilla had established its command in the mountains dominating the city. At the same time, another guerilla division was setting up a camp near Santiago. Slight gunfire was exchanged between the guerilla camps and their respective neighboring cities. This situation remained as it was for around 48 hours.

On the 3rd day, James was given the order to go out on a patrol, to around 1.5 miles east of the Valencia, and set up an observation post. Similarly, another riflemen platoon accompanied by a group of knights were sent out from Santiago, to meet with James’ unit. Weary troopers in the column, after more than 50 hours without decent rest or sleep, sat down and took a break. Some lit up a cigarette, some reorganized their material, and other just lied down. Visibility in the 3 to 5 foot high grass was extremely limited. The column now stretched to around 500 yards.

At around 2 p.m., gunshots were heard in the clearing and down the length of the English column. It was soon followed by a violent assault.

“Fall back towards the tall grass!” came the order for the English troops, as soon as the firing began.

The order was carried out, but there, it was impossible for them, and even for their foes, to identify each others, except of course and extremely close range. Within minutes, the situation became a wild melee, a shoot-out, with the men not only killing the enemy, but sometimes their friends just a few feet away.

For the next two hours, the situation was starting to tilt to favor the attackers. English riflemen were being slaughtered and killed all along the line now. There was no hope for them to overcome the guerilla weapons with simple rifles. It was not until nightfall that James and some of his men managed to escape the battlefield, helped by a couple of wounded knights that were retreating back to Valencia.

When daylight broke on the next morning, it was a quiet and tense battlefield. The English had lost more than 200 men in the fighting, and the connection between Valencia and Santiago was for ever lost.
-----------------------------------------------------

In Valencia, things did not look much better. The news of the fall of Nottingham, Hastings, as well as 3 other main English cities to the Arab army did not help much in the troops motivation.

Capt. Kirk was ordered to sail back to Barcelona and bring more troops. Jason remained in Valencia in order to quickly re-organize the city defenses. While the fighting was breaking out nearby, the city was put under tremendous pressure, as the defenders repelled waves and waves of guerilla units trying to infiltrate the city, all this of course, not without sustaining huge and heavy casualties. And now that the V-S line was broken, the defense of the city was not going to be an easier task.
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The explosion was unlike any of the citizen of Cumae had heard: a crack and whoosh coming from the direction of the northern railroad, near some irrigated areas . ‘What was that?’ was the common question heard on all lips.

A patrol - ten soldiers - had spent most of the afternoon parked in a field just off the northern railroad, next to a farm, waiting for an ordinance disposal team to show up and clean up the mess resulting in the explosion of that farm.

Back in the city, after a couple of minutes of static, the answer came back in a deadpan crackle: ‘There was an explosion north, there are troops already there.’

Such explosions were to become a fairly regular occurrence for the military forces whose job was to ensure the security of the main Arab cities. The strikes were mainly carried out using bombs, or “IEDs” (improvised explosive devices) as they are called in army jargon.

Heading up towards the site of the blast, the patrol came upon a column of cavalry heading west towards another site too. Traffic was halted, cavalrymen were down on foot, weapons ready. An excavation mine, a full kilometre from there, was almost in ruins. All its frontal entrance was turned into ashes, and pieces of it were found on a 500 yards radius.

“This ain't that bad,” said one responsible on the site, addressing the military troops. “We’ll send out a specialized engineer group to clean this up.”

It’s been a while now that spectacular acts of terror were taking place every couple of days near the major industrial cities, turning the area in a huge polluted complex, forcing the production of the area to a temporary halt.

A hundred metres off the site, the family of Sheikh Omar stood watching the afternoon transpire. Soldiers said they saw Omar’s grandson and nephew cheering at the sight of the damaged truck, so Sgt. Hassan led four soldiers to their house. The family watched silently as they approached.

“Why were you laughing and cheering?” Sgt. Hassan asked.

“By God, we were not doing anything,” said the nephew. “It was the children who were clapping and cheering.”

The two young men were then led, handcuffed, and had bags put over their heads before being driven to a detention centre.

Sheikh Omar, squatting on the ground, reflected: “We were in the house, and came out when we heard the noise. They had nothing to do with it. God help us. Where is justice?”

Later, Sgt Hassan confided:
“My gut tells me they didn't do it. But my gut tells me they know who did.”
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The news of these incursions in the homeland reached Abu Bakr all the way to Paris. But the worst was that he had heard that the military had captured some people near the sites, and these prisoners admitted they were part of a large conspiracy group, that was to lead the investigators all the way up to Jaafar.

“We have to stop this mess before it gets any stronger!” enraged Abu Bakr. “I also heard that some former Iroquois and Japanese cities are rioting. We must quell this, and quickly! If the disorder reaches our main cities, our whole war effort will be destroyed!”

“We have already set up several group of special workers and engineers, whose sole task is to intervene on such sites, and make sure it is back up and running in the shortest delay possible” confirmed Ashrawi, the domestic advisor.

“That is not enough though,” thought Abu Bakr. “We have to put our hands on Jaafar, and dismantle this whole group. The fact that I am so far from homeland does not help.”

Then, he turned towards a young boy, whom he had called to the meeting:
“Aladdin, you are to go there, and get rid of Jaafar, no matter the cost! Go! It’s about time we put some order in our own country too.”
---------------------------------------------------

“It’s no damned wonder you always win,” teased the Jason, as he scooped up his new hand of cards. “You always deal yourself first and then finish the rest of the table backwards.”

James acknowledged the chiding with a mischievous smile, looked at his hand and asked, “Can you open?”

Four card players surrounded wooden door mounted on a couple of sandbags which they were using as a table - The cards were soiled and dog-eared and the stakes were match sticks. After a round of bold betting, James took three new cards for his own hand before addressing the table.

“Cards?” he asked.

During the final round, James called to the power. His opponent spread a full house across the table. Seeing he was beaten, James slammed his cards on the tabletop with such mock disdain that he sent match sticks and discards bouncing to the fenders and onto the ground.

“Now it had to be my turn!” teased Jason.

Although James’s nonchalance towards poker rules may raise a few eyebrows, his ability at sniffing out the enemy will cause no one to call for a misdeal.

“Most of them have more or less grown up with this war,” explained once Major Rogers. “They have an almost instinctive ability for guessing what the enemy will do in a given situation. They know the enemy, they know the area, and they have proven themselves several times over the battlefield.”

It has been a couple of days now since tension was rising in the city as guerrilla units were spotted approaching at a fast rate. The English defenders spent their time as they could, trying to make the most out of it, and to remove some of their stress and anxiety.

“Yeah! Let’s deal again,” replied James, “and we will all see who’s the master of…”

An enormous explosion had interrupted his sentence. All the four men were thrown on the floor by the blast. One of them, Peter, was never to wake up again. The door that was used as a table for the game had hit him hard on the neck. Dust rose in the air, and shouts and moaning could be heard, as injured soldiers laid on the ground calling for help.

“What the hell happened?” asked James as he rushed towards the scene, followed by Jason. Both of them were so shocked that they did not even notice the cuts they had on their hands and chest.

“The guerrilla! They are attacking!” came the reply. “One armed man rushed towards the ammo depot, and blew himself out, killing tens of soldiers!”

Suddenly, gunfire could be clearly heard from the south and from the east. The guerrilla was now conducting it’s final assault against the city. Panic and horror had taken the men.

“They have broken the lines! They are all over the place!” came the shouts.

“That’s it”, said James. “The time has come. Men! Head towards the harbour. It’s the best area were we can defend ourselves! May God be with us.”

But deep inside, James knew that there was no way out. The guerrilla was lightly equipped, and moved fast. On top of that, they were far much better armed. And now, the loss of their last ammo reserve was not to help them much.

The 31st battalion now under the command of Lt. James had fortified in the city’s harbour. The enemy had now advanced through the suburbs of Valencia, and were now around 3000 yards from the here. More English riflemen were now arriving from other parts of the city, all falling back to the fortified position in the harbour. James could now count for more than 1000 men.

“What’s the situation?” he asked one soldier who had just arrived.

“We have lost the northern part of the city now. Only this area is left!”

“They’ll be here by midnight”, noted another trooper.

The troops divided themselves in five groups of approximately 200 men each, and spread around the four warehouses and the harbour perimeter, while the 5th group positioned itself near the docks. The warehouses provided a good position that protected the entrance to the harbour. Three of them aligned from north to south, to the east of the docks, were numbered 1, 2 and 3, whereas the fourth lied to the north. On both sides of the docks were sand beaches. The task of the men in the warehouses was to try and delay the attackers, while the troops at the docks would try to build life rafts and other means to try and escape.
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Where can I DL this mod for the Guerilla has a hidden nationality?

Originally posted by Ukraineboy
Where can I DL this mod for the Guerilla has a hidden nationality?

Click to expand...

I just modified it in the Civ-Editor
And modified the stats of some other units too.

“Tell Guevara to halt the assault on Valencia, and get me the English ambassador”, ordered Abu Bakr. “We need to tell him a couple of things.”

“Stop the assault?” replied Sahaf, as he visited Abu Bakr in Paris to give him the latest news about the situation in the mainland and in Arabia overall.

“Yes. There are several English troops encircled in the city. This gives us a very good chance to bring England to its knees, and force it to our side, and prevent the slaughtering of several hundreds of troops”, explained the Arab leader.

“At once, sir!”

A couple of hours later, the English ambassador, Winston, was conducted into the meeting room, where he was asked to wait for Abu Bakr to show up. It was a ‘face-to-face’ meeting, of utmost confidentiality.

“Welcome”, started Abu Bakr as he entered the room. “Please be seated.”

“Thank you” answered the ambassador.

“Want a cigarette?”

“Thx, I have my own”, replied Winston.

“So, I hear that the deteriorating situation in Spain has left your expeditionary force in a serious delicate position. As you see, my dear ambassador, your plans to create a defensive line between Valencia and Santiago was impossible. The guerrilla is using superior tactics if not equipment, and is moving much faster than any of your units. This is not to mention the high morale of the Spanish fighters eager to free their own country, of course, with our help. What I am about to suggest to you will save your country from a complete politic, military and human disaster.”

“Before you start”, warned the English representative, clearly furious, despite his diplomatic stand. “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat. We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering. You ask, what is our policy? I can say: It is to wage war by land and sea, with all our might and with all the strength God has given us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, and lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer, in one word, on behalf of my country: It is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory there is no survival.”

“But you know what this will mean. Our army is at the gates of London. Several English cities have fallen under Arab rule. Do you really want your entire country to fall?”

“We shall defend our country, whatever the cost may be; we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this country or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the our fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, our troops, with all their power and might, step forth to the rescue and the liberation of our soil.”

“That’s a very nice speech here Winston”, said Abu Bakr. “But be aware that, while you are here living in a nice place, well served, well paid, some hundreds of Englishmen are dying or are about to die fighting a useless battle, still believing that they can change the flow of events. For the last time, I advise you to withdraw your troops from Spain, and avoid a useless massacre. Let these boys return safely to their homes.”

“The gratitude of every home in our country, in our empire, and indeed throughout the world, goes out to these English riflemen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, will turn the tide of the war by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.”

“Again a very nice speech”, sighed the Arab leader. “Then it’s your call Winston. I hope you will not have a bad conscience about it. You asked for it!”
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