Paradise Lost

[TheLoneMan]

Yellow - Spain
Red - United Arabian States
Blue - Japan
Green - Scandinavia
Brown - America
Grey - Carthage
Pink - Babylon

Paradise Lost follows the story of the 1987 C.E. invasion of the United Arabian States by Spanish Communistos. The Arabians, at the time, possessed a massive empire, with very little military to speak of. The Spanish were stuck in the southeastern island of Humillar (literally, 'humbling'), and had been building their contempt for the prosperous, happy, and peaceful UAS for years. With the recent instatement of a banished Arabian senator as Comrade-Chairman, the Spaniards had been mobilizing their military, biding their time for a surprise assault on their unsuspecting prey.

____________________

January 1st, 1987
Mecca, UAS
Arabian POV

Woke up at 11:30 this morning to a hangover, an empty bed and a note on the door. "Call me!", it read. That made me laugh. I can't even remember the name of the woman I went to bed with last night. Let alone her phone number.

Ah well. Called in sick to work (can you freaking believe that a college bookstore is open on New Year's Day? I mean, anybody that would be buying books at a college bookstore today has either not gone to bed yet, is sleeping, or has a massive hangover. Either way, they won't be taking advantage of the discount price on The Advanced Algorithms of Pseudo-Calculus. Pity.

Popped some Tylenol, chugged some OJ, and sat down in front of the TV.

And you wouldn't imagine what I saw.

____________________

January 1st, 1987
Madrid, Spain
Spanish POV

"Today, the glorious nation of Spain shall finally take back the lands that have been rightfully ours for millenia. The filthy Arabian barbarians have held these lands, enjoying their infinite splendor and wonder. The Arabian States have held these lands, enjoying their wealth and bountifulness. The UAS has kept these lands, growing fat in luxury, while we, the righteous Spanish people, have struggled to survive, starving in endless famine as these, these atrocious rodents play petty diplomatic games in our land, in the land that our people claimed for us, thousands of years ago! Now is the time to reclaim the few possessions we once had! NOW IS THE TIME... FOR CHANGE!"

And with that, the Chairman-Comrade had set in motion a chain of events that would alter the course of history.

 

[TheLoneMan]

January 2nd, 1987
Mecca, UAS
Arabian POV

Within hours of the formal declaration of war on the United Arabian States by the Communist Republic of Spain, recruitment for the Navy, the Air Force, and the Army was up 50,000% in Mecca alone. Within minutes, the Arabian military went from a pathetic and neglected mockery to one of the largest and (obviously) fastest growing armed forces group in the world.

Before the soldiers had even been issued dog tags, the first few cities in the southern UAS-controlled Eastern Hemisphere had fallen. Swiftly, the UAS Prime Minister brought down a state of emergency, evacuating all cities in the southern island to the northern tip. Soldiers were being deported desperately to the northern-most metropolis, a coastal city named Lebanon. Refugee camps were being set up, and soon the civilians were being deported to the northern half of the UAS.

The day after the DoW, the UAS brought down a compulsory military service for the duration of the "Nationalist Invasion". Infantrymen were drafted throughout Arabia and loaded onto escort-less transports. Bombers left over from the Scand-American war were rebased to an old airfield on the southern tip of the northern island.

____________________

January 2nd, 1987
Jerusalem, UAS
Spanish POV

The 47th Mounted Division of the Armed Forces of the Communist Republic of Spain swept into Jerusalem, preceded by the 29th Infantry.

We crept through the streets, rifles at the ready. The aura emanating from the city was frightening; dead silence penetrated rarely by an eerie wail or shout. Fires blazed, quite obviously due to serious rioting. Doors hung open, swinging silently in the cool breeze. Every corner was the same; brutal abandonment and anarchy.

I smirked as I crept through the city. The former grandeur of Jerusalem, once the gem of the southern UAS, was now naught but a hollow shell, filled with puny cries for help and the occasional lingering fire.

 

[Zixk]

Its pretty good so far.

 

[TheLoneMan]

January 5th, 1987
Lebanon, UAS
Arabian POV

The troops filed past me, their marching formation taking up most of the street.

Our men were still in shock from the events that had unfolded a few mere days earlier. The artillery shells had begun falling last night, and already we had sustained heavy casualties. We were now getting into battle position.

My ammunition-feeder, Abdullah, crouched by the machine gun we had been taught to fire yesterday. I sat against the sandbags, facing him and looking inwards at the city whilst lighting up a cigarette..

"So this is it, eh?" mused Abdullah, "The final stand? If we lose this, we've lost the whole continent."

"Aye." I replied, "The runty little Spaniards will finally get what's coming for 'em."

"Y'know, I never really trusted the Commies." Abdullah mused.

"Oh really? I seem to recall just the other day you were suggesting the UAS adopt communism."

Abdullah began to mumble some sort of explanation. He was blocked out by the warning sirens that had begun their vulture-like screech.

"Battle stations!" The officers screamed, the scene eerily movie-like.

The stream of soldiers passing by, which by now had thinned down to a trickle, doubled its pace.

On the hill just outside Lebanon, the first of the Spanish tanks appeared, surrounded by at least four regiments of SMG-bearing Spaniards. For miles to the left and right, soldiers were appearing at the tops of the hills.

After a few seconds of utter silence, the first of our outdated mortars fired, and the Spaniards charged, letting lose a glass-shattering whale of agony as they sprinted down the hill.

Without thinking, I pulled the trigger on the machine gun, motioning for Abdullah to feed me ammunition. The gunners around me opened fire, and the front lines of the Spaniards exploded in a thunderstorm of blood, bone, and bodies.

The mortar shells fell on the attackers, punching holes in the crowd of oncoming soldiers.

The battle for Lebanon had begun.

 

[vorlon_mi]

I like jumping into the story, mid-stream, and then getting some
background gradually.

Would you consider posting a screenie showing which islands are Arab,
and which are Spanish (relatively soon, anyway)?

 

[TheLoneMan]

January 5th, 1987
Lebanon, UAS
Arabian POV

My MG spat out bullets. The soldiers around me were using their weapons, too. Some fired Industrial-era rifles, some fired cannons; it was a historian's greatest dream: nearly every type of weapon that had been used in the past century was present at the battle.

Even with the symphony of machine guns and rifles at its strongest, the Spaniards were still gaining ground, and quickly at that. For every soldier that we cut down, ten were taking his place at the top of the hill.

The sight was awe-inspiring; tens of thousands of men were running at the city, yelling in outrage.

"¡Viva España!" could be heard from miles away as the attackers grew closer to our position. Their numbers seemed immune to our onslaught.

As the Communists neared the city, orders came down the line to hide in the buildings. Outnumbered, outgunned, and out-trained, it was our only hope to fight a guerilla war.

As we evacuated the area, smoke grenades were hurled at our previous defensive positions. Cloaked men moved silently through the area, placing mines and barbed wire. Quickly and efficiently, they transformed the boulevard into a massive bomb. Quietly, they withdrew into the alleys, presumably to draw their weapons and prepare for the ambush.

Within minutes, the Spanish front lines had arrived at our position. With a shout of excitement, one of the soldiers, a young boy, ran to my machine gun nest, hopping over the sandbags and landing in the spot I had been crouching only seconds earlier.

Before the kid had even touched the ground, he, and a dozen of his comrades, had been incinerated in a massive explosion of metal, sand, and fire.

The inertia of the assaulters was astonishing, however, as they continued to plow forward into our makeshift minefield. For many seconds the explosions continued, until the broken and astonished soldiers came to a confused stop. Before they had time to regain their equilibrium, the artillery shells began to land. Entire regiments were swallowed in the uprisings of flame that ensued.

When the shells stopped falling, the Spanish commanders could be heard yelling, "¡Continúe el ataque, o usted morirá a un traidor!"

The shout "¡Viva España! ¡Viva España!" went up again, and the Spaniards began to resume their forward (and futile) attack on Lebanon.

But before they could gain an inch, our order to attack was given, as well.

Figures emerged from windows, alleys, and doorways, and then all hell broke loose.

The tide of the battle seemed to have turned.

____________________

Refer above for color index.

 

[TheLoneMan]

January 5th, 1987
Lebanon, UAS
Arabian POV

We pressed the advantage, popping out, firing a few rounds, then vanishing to reload; then popping out at new windows. Despite our inexperience, we efficiently began to dispatch the warmongering Communists.

As we began our slaughter, thousands of the Spaniards rushed into the city. With no place to hide, and some unforgiving-looking officers in the rear discouraging retreat, the helpless soldiers rushed forward, picking up where they had left off in the fireworks show. Some tried to sneak around our traps, but none could succeed. The soldiers ran into the flame, some of them bawling. The few that tried to turn back were shot by either us, the officers, or their comrades. Over time, it became obvious that the Spaniards truly were willing to die for their country, as their bodies fed the never-ending inferno.

Lifting my rifle, I fired off three rounds into an officer's stomach... twenty-three... and another two at a young boy and an older man... twenty-four... twenty-five. Another two into the head of a man with his gun raised at my side of the street, and a third and final shot into the leg of a crawling fat man brought me to twenty-seven. Pausing, I sat to the side of the window I'd been firing from, and placed eight fresh bullets into the magazine. In my peripheral vision, I saw Abdullah slump to the ground; or, at least, I saw him from his neck down. His head was nowhere to be found.

The screams from the ground swirled in my head, a cold sweat dripping from my forehead. Memories of my mother, my children, my wife, mixed with my rage. A bittersweet feeling of calmness, combined with obscene rage, overcame me. Time slowed. I lifted to my feet, raised my rifle, peered down the sights. I found the man who had just fired his weapon, gun still pointing at the window to my right. My anger built up, surrounding me, urging me to pull the trigger. I did not resist. Lining the gun up with his head, I pulled the trigger, over and over again. With each shot, the man's body shuddered, but still he stood. Again and again I shot the old rifle, I emptied the magazine and still I was peering down the sights, pulling the trigger. Slowly, I lowered my gun. Shocked at my own rage, I reloaded.

In the three minutes since the artillery shells had landed, thousands of Spaniards had lost their life, on this boulevard alone. In this time, the Communists had begun to proliferate into the buildings. Now, the orders had come to evacuate. Rushing down the stairs, we arrived at the main floor.

"Oh s**t." was the collective response to the scene set out before us.

 

[TheLoneMan]

@Vixk
Thanks, I try.

@vorlon_mi
Your wish is my command.

Thanks for replying guys!

 

[TheLoneMan]

January 5th
Lebanon, UAS
Arabian POV

The scene in front of us was a slaughter. The Spaniards were streaming through the side door, barely being held back by our inexperienced soldiers. Instinctively, I dove behind an overturned desk, peeking up over the rim and aiming my rifle. Ducking down again, I fired blindly. My comrades began to follow suit.

When my magazine was empty, I crouched down and reloaded, thinking about a remedy to our desperate situation. After a few moments, I understood that the only way we were getting out of that building was to force it. Laying down my rifle, now with a fresh, full magazine, I yelled to my comrades.

"Toss me your 'nades!" I yelled above the screams, shouts, and shots.

Confused looks all around.

"Just toss me your god damned 'nades!" I bellowed, louder.

The soldiers dumbly followed my order, and they all unclipped their high-explosive grenades from their belts and threw them to me... or, at least, the ones that had been given them. Our army wasn't exactly well equipped.

I pulled the pin off two at a time, throwing them at the wall that opened out into the back yard. By the time I had gotten to the seventh and eighth ones, the first two had already exploded. The noise was tremendous, and I lost most of my hearing for the next few minutes. My ears felt wet, and I brought my fingers to them, acknowledging the thin trickle of blood exiting the ear drum.

When the explosions had finished, I glanced up at the wall, now scarred with exactly the thing I wanted to see: a wide and thorough (albeit a little rough) hole that would be our only escape. With a few more shots fired at the incoming Spaniards for good measure, we jumped out of our positions and sprinted through the wall, some of us being cut down in the process. As we flew away from the building, many of us fell, but the only option was to keep running. Nearly a quarter of a mile from the building we had just been defending, we finally came to a stop, panting and weary. By this time my hearing had mostly come back, and we discussed our next course of action.

We decided to split up and fight our way back to HQ in teams of three. Of the 27 of us left, I was placed in a group with Nauzem, a heavyset weightlifter in his early 30's, and Mac, a small guy with a high-pitched voice and an angry demeanor. And with that, we scattered.

 

[vorlon_mi]

Good job! I'm looking forward to the next update.
Not sure why there are double posts, sometimes...the web can be funny that way.

 

[Jakt]

This is a good read- I am following this one with interest!

 

[Zixk]

Nice updates!

 

[TheLoneMan]

Update coming later tonight/tomorrow.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Nice story you've got here.

 

[greekguy]

Nice read, I'm looking foward to future updates.

 

[TheLoneMan]

Sorry about the long wait guys... school's just started up and I've been really busy.

 

[TheLoneMan]

January 5th, 1987
Lebanon, UAS
Arabian POV

Crawling through the rubble, I got to the far end of the bombed-out office structure. Sticking my head out of a crater, I looked around. My eyes fell on two Spanish soldiers moving slowly and carefully across the street, their backs to me. Motioning to Nauzem and Mac, I stood up slowly and quietly. Moving swiftly and silently, I positioned myself on the sidewalk, dropping to one knee and aiming my rifle.

"دث إلى الغازين ( الاسبانية الله و النب&#1610" I bellowed, firing my rifle twice; the Spaniards' heads exploded like tomatoes. Forty-one, forty-two. Behind me, Mac and Nauzem emerged from the building. Sooty and dusty, they looked like chimney sweeps. The dust was caked onto our face; digging into our wounds and mixing with our sweat to create a cesspool of pain and suffering. Crouched down, we scurried across the street like rodents, diving into the doorway of the next building. Nauzem, Mac, and I stood up and examined our location. A shot rang out from somewhere nearby, and we instinctively hit the dirt. In this, we were very lucky. Seconds later an artillery shell landed in the middle of the boulevard, and the blast knocked out the windows. Although stunned, covered in glass, and burned in several places, we were mostly intact, and we slowly stood up and resumed on our way.

 

[Zixk]

awsome!!!!

 

[jalapeno_dude]

Nice story!

 

[TheLoneMan]

Update coming in a few.