Our Secret War

“Sir, we have received a transmission from the commando team at Omega Central.” Admiral Crassus’ aide informed him.

“Very well, what is it?” he replied. His aide wordlessly handed him a slip of paper. He read it, and scowled.

“So, it seems that the Americans were expecting us this time. Julius has lost his evac choppers, and needs us to finish his job via air strikes. Well, we don’t exactly have much choice. Tell our pilots to be ready for more strikes within two hours. And fly some more choppers out, with fighter escort. We will pick them up at the shores of the Great Bear Lake. See that Colonel Julius is informed about this; the lake shouldn’t be more than an hour and a half away from Omega Central, if he hurries.”

“Yes, sir.” The aide replied, and hurried off to carry out the Admiral’s orders.
 
“Colonel Julius, do you copy?” Julius heard the voice from his commlink, recognising the voice of Quintus Cornelius Horatius, Admiral Crassus’ communications officer.

“I copy, Horiatius, what is it?” he replied.

“Admiral Crassus has told me that he is sending choppers out to pick you up at Hill CCCIV, 50 kilometres north of the Great Bear Lake.”

“Very well, we’re moving.” Julius cut the connection and relayed the orders to the rest of his team. They would get there, even if they had to carry their wounded.

* * *

As Crassus’ aide Brutus listened in on his own personal communications gear, he smiled. Colonel Julius and his team were walking directly into an American trap, and the USAF was relocating every defensive fighter it had to the closest surviving airbase to Omega Central. This adventure would go down in the history books as a disaster for Rome, as well it should…
 
Julius’ first sign that something was wrong came an hour later, as he saw an American transport chopper heading directly for the evac point designated by Crassus. He looked up at it in concern, and told the others that they should be very cautious when they arrived at Hill CCCIV.

15 minutes later, they entered a clearing and realized, too late, that something had definitely gone wrong. The Americans were waiting for them, as SEALs and Special Forces stormed out of the trees and opened fire, with Apache helicopters providing support. Julius saw three of his troops die within seconds, before the Romans began returning fire. He noted dimly that his special weapon troopers had evidently been training heavily, as they shot down all three of the enemy helicopter with only one shot missing. Meanwhile the American ground troops were dying too, and much more swiftly than the Romans.

When the dust finally settled and the last American was dead, Julius took stock. Hist commando team was now down to five unhurt and eight wounded members, having just eliminated twenty elite American troops. Not bad, but the Americans could afford such losses and Julius could not.

“Colonel Julius, Colonel Julius, this is Captain Lucius, the officer overseeing your extraction. We have reached the Great Bear Lake, but you are not here. Where are you? Over.”

Julius felt a surge of anger as he realized that he had been tricked. “Captain Lucius, we received incorrect information about the designated evac point. We are on our way to you now.”

“Don’t bother, Colonel, I can see where you are from your transmission, and by the time you reach us the Americans will be all over you. We’re on our way to you, ETA 15 minutes. Just try to survive. Over.”

“Thank you, Captain. Over and out.”

Julius wearily relayed the orders to his team, leading them off into the trees. They would have to hide as best they could until the choppers arrived, then hope they could survive the trip back. And when they got back, Julius vowed, he would find whoever had betrayed them and he would personally rip them limb from limb.
 
“Warrant Officer Nash, this is Captain Graham. Found anything yet? Over.”

“Sorry captain, nothing. Wait…” Graham watched as the other Apache helicopter slowly turned in midair, scanning for any evidence of the Roman commandos. When Nash called back in, his voice was filled with exultation.

“We got ‘em, Captain, they’re right down there.” As he said this, Nash fired a flare to illustrate the Roman’s location. The two choppers sped down toward that patch of pine forest, guns blazing, while the Special Forces on board prepared to disembark and finish the job. Seconds later they received a rude shock as 3 RPGs came hurtling out of the forest some distance away and blasted Graham’s chopper out of the sky. Nash called in reinforcements and began running for his life, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid taking a grenade to his tail rotor. His chopper fell out of the sky and crashed in a massive fireball, killing everyone on board.

* * *

Julius relaxed slightly as he saw both American choppers destroyed, the infrared decoys they had left over there having worked, but he knew that there would be worse to come. Lucius’ choppers weren’t due in for another 10 minutes, and the Americans would now know where they were. They could, of course, relocate, but they wouldn’t get far and Lucius would have to look for them. Their only real option was to sit tight and hope for the best.

A few minutes later his heart sank as he heard more choppers incoming. Looking up he could see no less than six, all heading for the patch of forest that the real Romans were hiding in. The three special weapon troopers began sighting their RPG launchers, and the others prepared for a shooting match against whatever ground troops the Americans had brought in.
Shortly afterward the choppers swooped overhead, Special Forces troops rappelling down through the trees with guns blazing. Roman bullets and RPGs hurtled back in reply, and two Apaches exploded immediately. The others let fly with their own armaments, shredding the cover provided by the trees. Moments after the attack began the Romans were down to only six commandos, two of them wounded.

“Break off!” Julius yelled, “We have to split up and hope some of us will make it.”

The Romans obeyed his order, splitting into pairs and running off through the trees. As Julius followed he dropped some grenades behind him. Shortly after he heard them detonate and heard the death-screams of at least two Americans.

Then he heard two gunshots, and knew that would have been the Americans executing his wounded. He shook his head and pushed that though aside for know; the only thing he could think about now was survival.

After a few minutes more running, Julius called his remaining three troops by radio and arranged a rendezvous point at a nearby clearing. He then called up Lucius to redirect him.

“Captain Lucius, this is Colonel Julius. Do you copy? Over.”

“Julius, this is Lucius. We’ll be there in just a few minutes. What’s the problem? Over.”

“We were attacked by the Americans while waiting for you. I’m down to only four troops including myself, and you’ll have to pick us up somewhere else.” He then went on to give Lucius the location of the pickup point.

“Thanks, Colonel. Over and out.”
 
i think the romans seem toooooooo powerful it's good anyways :goodjob:
 
Julius and the other commandos arrived at the edge of the clearing a few minutes later and prepared for the few minutes more wait until they could escape. Julius though he could just here the sound of helicopter blades in the distance when they found themselves under attack yet again. Julius spotted the US commandos before they attacked this time, and was able to shoot one of them, but it did little good. An instant later the pine forest once again erupted with the sound of gunfire.

Though the Romans ducked back into the forest and tried their best to take cover in the trees, they were still taking most of the punishment. Julius saw several grenades detonate next to one of the other commandos, shredding her before she even knew what was happening.

As he turned back to the enemy Julius felt as though someone had whacked him in the gut with a lump of lead. He doubled over, gasping for breath, just in time to take three more bullets to his chest. He could feel his ribs crack despite his Kevlar body armour, and saw his gun slip from his nerveless fingers. As he looked up he saw one of the US commandos taking aim at his face, but there was nothing he could do. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

An instant later he heard a shot, and felt it strike him in the face, but to his confusion he was still alive. At the same time he heard a deafening stream of gunfire coming from above. He opened his eyes just in time to see the last American soldier shredded by assault cannon fire from a Roman attack helicopter.

Though ordinarily he would have felt a flood of relief, the only thing on his mind right now was the pain. Though he could tell, dimly, that the bullet had struck him in the cheek before passing out again and was not life threatening, that didn’t make it hurt any less. As one the choppers swept down over the clearing to collect the surviving commandos, it was all he could do to pull himself up to the doors before passing out. His last memory of the incident was of being pulled up into the helicopter as it lifted off and headed full speed for the Marcus Aurelis.

* * *

While Julius’ two commando squads were going through hell trying to escape from American troops, the base that was their target was being reduced to rubble.

The first step had been the detonation of the numerous fuel-air explosives they had left inside the perimeter. They had gone off before the Americans could bring in a bomb squad to remove them, leaving most of the aboveground section of the base in ruins and the thick concrete that protected the underground section cracked and collapsed in several places.

The second step in the destruction was the massive air strike organized by admiral Crassus against what was left. 24 Jupiter-class bombers attacked from Tyrus, escorted by dozens more Roman fighter-bombers.

There was little resistance to the strike. The local airfield had already been taken out of commission and the fighters that the Americans already had in the air were low on fuel and hopelessly outnumbered. In less than an hour, a seemingly endless rain of bombs converted Omega Central into nothing more a rubble-filled crater, and along with it went five years of American nuclear research. As the last Roman aircraft left, one thing was clear.

The United States of America would never forgive Rome for this.

* * *

“So, what do we know about the attacks against Omega Central?” President Lincoln asked, opening the cabinet meeting. Colonel Hunter, the overall commander of Project Omega, shuffled some papers and then stood.

“Mr. President, we have ascertained two things of importance. Firstly, the perpetrators of these terrorist actions are known. It was the Romans. We have corpses from the ground troops who conducted the first assault and the first phase eof the second, and video and radar evidence of Roman aircraft taking off from their military base at Tyrus and an aircraft carrier in violation of our territorial waters. Take them together, and we have compelling evidence that the Romans were responsible.

The second piece of information is less welcome. The base was completely destroyed in the course of the second attack. While we backed up what we could, the majority of the information there was irreplaceable, and we also lost several of our best scientists, who were killed in the initial bombing raid. Fortunately, the rest were able to evacuate to the sealed bunker beneath the base and survived. We were able to get them out within hours.”

Lincoln nodded, slowly, thinking this information over. As he did so, Secretary of State Henry Kissinger stood and began to speak. “Mr. President, I have taken the liberty of consulting with our allied governments in Tenochtitlan, Cuzco and Moscow, and they have all promised their support for us. The Czarina of Russia was the most reluctant, but we did not have to seriously pressure her.”

“Good.” Lincoln replied. “What about the UN?”

“Their bureaucracy will probably oppose us on general principle, being riddled with communists and all,” Kissinger replied, “but we do have a strong base of support in the General Assembly. Aside from our traditional allies, the Romans haven’t exactly endeared themselves to the other Europeans either. If we play our cards right, we can portray ourselves as innocent victims of unprovoked Roman aggression – which is fairly certain to gain us sympathy.”

“So who is likely to support us?”

“The Russians, Aztecs and Inca most definitely, and probably the Spanish, French, English and Carthaginians as well. We may be able to drum up some support amongst the Asians as well, but it’s doubtful.”

“So we don’t have a majority?”

“No, Mr. President.”

“Then who will support Rome?”

“The Greeks and Egyptians for certain, probably the Germans, and they may be able to wangle a deal with the Asians. The rest will probably be undecided and will support whoever they think makes the best case.”

“What of Persia and Babylon? Their support, above all, could make or break our efforts here.”

“Depends. We will have to try and sell our case to them as promoting stability, but that may be difficult, considering that for the immediate future we are aiming for it’s opposite.”

“Very well. What do you suggest we tell the UN?”

“That we are shocked and bewildered by this unprovoked aggression, and that we demand reparations from the Romans and an evacuation of their base Tyrus to protect us from any further attacks. The Romans will, of course, refuse, and then we can ask the UN to place sanctions on them and possibly approve an attack on Tyrus. If the Romans agree, then they’ve lost their military base and had to pay for their attack. We can then restart the program without fear of attack.”

“I agree. But what if we lose the vote?”

“We will simply have to make sure we won’t. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Very well. Do it. Macarthur, do we have the capability to take Tyrus from the Romans if necessary?”

“Hell yes, Mr. President,” the Secretary of Defence replied, “You give the word and we could have it done by morning.”

“What would you expect the casualties to be?” Kissinger asked.

“Pretty high.” Macarthur admitted, “But there would be no doubt about outcome.”

“What if the Romans reinforced it?” Lincoln wanted to know.

“They can’t. We would know about it, and even if they tried to fly them in we could shoot them down first. Our air force will easily destroy any escort they sent with the transports.”

Kissinger looked doubtful at this, but Lincoln saw the confidence on Macarthur’s face and nodded.

“Very well. We shall make our demands at the UN in two days time. Macarthur, I want you to have the troops organized to take Tyrus.”

“Yes, Mr. President. Consider it done.”
 
If Omega Central was under ground the those bombs wouldnt be able too hit it(unless they were bunker busters ;) )
 
how they werent bunker busters and if it was a UNDERGROUND bunker than the only thing that would be visible above ground for at least 20 feet would be the door and the hall that went down too the main part
 
how they werent bunker busters

Did I say they weren't? I only said they were bombing it. Vietnam-era American style isn't the only way to run a military, you know...

and if it was a UNDERGROUND bunker than the only thing that would be visible above ground for at least 20 feet would be the door and the hall that went down too the main part

The thing was buried under a mass of concrete, which was perfectly visible from above. And if you think that would be impervious to bombing, tell that to the Iraqis.
 
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