ok. almost finished with the next update. just have to do some research on certain battles.
To content those of you who are no doubt getting impatient, heres a quick clip from the sequel.
PFC Joseph Laino, 182nd paratrooper division.
Location: Skies above Akkad, June 12th, 1701.
Account:
Our T-180 jump planes went over Akkad, first with little resistance. After about five minutes, the island’s batteries of aging Flak guns opened up, lighting the sky around us. We sat in complete silence.
I had joined the airborne two years ago. Even acceptance into airborne training is a great honor- It was the toughest training in all of Scandinavia’s armed forces. The first several months of our training were pt, or physical training. Then it went into weaponry, tactics, and environments. Scandinavian paratroopers trained in every type of terrain. When I was in training, we went to Carthage, The Marianas, Egypt, mainland Scandinavia, and parts of the Mayan homeland. After that was jump training, then helicopter training, training with tank and mechanized units, and finally, the war games, where we faced off against other units in training. If you made it through all that, you became a certified airborne trooper. It made Scandinavia’s airborne one of the best forces in the world, and I was proud to serve in it, just like my grandfather did in the Great Patriotic War.
Our jump master, lieutenant Bill Muir stood up as the red light went on. He looked at us and held his hands out parallel to the ground. He raised them up and yelled, “Get ready!” We held our A-14 rifles in the ready position and prepared for the next command. “Stand up!” We got up and hooked our static lines. We quickly checked our own, and each others equipment. Once we were satisfied with this, we each gave a thumbs up, and yelled “Ok!”
The first man in the group moved to the open door, and waited patiently for the green light to come on. Some bullets hit the door near his head, but he hardly flinched. Unlike the paratroopers of other nations, we took seven qualifying jumps, the final two with anti-aircraft firing at us. It was risky, but it associated us with AA fire in actual jumps.
Finally the green light went on, and the man jumped out, his body angled to the left. The stick followed quickly, with each man jumping out pivoting to the left when he was out of the plane. I was the seventh man in the stick, and when my turn came, I leaped out, barely giving the action a second thought.
I started counting. One thousand! Two thousand! I felt a hard tug on my back as the parachute was jerked from its pack. Three thousand! The unopened parachute acted as an air break, slowing my forward movement, and tilting my back to the earth, and I watched as the tail of the plane sailed past over the tips of my boots. Four thousand! The chute was fully deployed now, so I took a quick look around, orienting myself with the DZ and the surrounding area.
We were one of five airborne divisions making the initial landings. Another five would join us once our initial objectives were completed. For the 182nd, our objectives were to capture a heavily defended airfield near the city of New Nimrud. After that, Nimrud itself was to be taken. Once those two main objectives were finished, we would move around the island, mopping up resistance as we found it.
I hit the ground hard and rolled, getting up and running around and into my parachute to collapse it before a gust of wind blew me across the field. Once I had the parachute collapsed, I folded it and put it into a bag, which I set at a large pile of bags in the center of the DZ. Then I prepared my gear and moved out. We didn’t have time to form up into our specific squads. The airfield was only about two hundred yards away. We had to hit it as quickly as possible.
The main weapon employed by the airborne was the A-14 rifle. It was a good, powerful and accurate weapon, based off the design of the A-1 semi automatic rifle of the Great Patriotic War. The A-14 had a 28 round magazine, and could fire either semi-automatic, or three round burst. It was accurate at up 500 yards, and with a 7.62mm bullet, it had the impact force of a brick hitting a glass window. Made out of plastic and steel, it was slightly heavier than the rifles used by the airborne forces of other nations, but its reliability, accuracy, and stopping power easily outweigh the one minor set back.
I moved with what seemed to be the general flow of troopers. There were some woods and a small creek separating us from our objective, but they were hardly obstacles to us. I waded through the water, and ran up the bank on the other side, keeping the butt of my rifle pressed against my shoulder and the barrel pointed down. We came to the edge of the forest, went prone, and waited. About thirty yards away were the perimeter defenses of the airfield. Mostly they were wooden guard towers, but one concrete bunker was there.
Since the large flame throwers employed by the Navy and the Army were too heavy for the airborne, we instead made do with thermite grenadiers. These were rifleman who carried somewhere around twelve incendiary grenades. There were two such men in each stick.
One of those men was lying next to me. His name was Koller. We were in the same company. An officer tapped him on the shoulder and motioned for him to throw a grenade into the bunker when we started firing. For the next five minutes officers made sure we were in position. Then the order went out.
My target had been a man holding a light machine gun in the guard tower. I squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession. My first round hit him in the chest, the second in the shoulder. He was dead with the first hit. The rifle, smg, and light machine gun fire cut down the men in the guard towers. The machine gun in the bunker opened up on us.
Koller then began his run. With the thermite grenade in his hand, he ran across the open expanse of ground. He pulled the pin and threw the grenade through the opening. He threw him self to the ground, and rolled, putting himself right up against the concrete wall. The grenade exploded, and a flames erupted from the openings with swoosh sound.
We were moving before it had even exploded. I got up and moved, heading for the building my stick had been ordered to clear out. Sure enough, as I got to our building, a small hanger, I came across Lieutenant Muir, and the rest of my stick.
There were fourteen men in our stick. Lt. Muir, myself, PFC. Nicholas Mottola, PFC. Edward ‘whiskey’ Wiezerbowski, PFC. Robert Jones, PFC. Joe Mann, SFC. John Michaelis, SFC. Onroe Luther, Cpl. Siber Spear, Cpl. Lewis Brereton, PFC. Fredrick Browning, PFC. Paul William, PFC. Henry Arnold, and PFC Stanislaw ‘Ski’ Sosbowski.
When I got to our building the rest of the stick was holding up under a small scaffolding. Luckily some piles of empty oil cans were giving them cover. William, Spear, and ‘Whiskey’ were firing on anything that moved to our front. Muir and the others were trying to find out how in the hell to move. An enemy machine gun had pinned them down.
I slid into a spot next to Spear and peeked my head up, trying to find a target. I quickly saw a Babylonian who seemed to be directing orders. I switched my rifle onto burst and fired, the rifle shaking against my shoulder. The rounds jerked his body back. Muir came up behind us.
“Suppress that mg nest. E companies 3rd stick is going to take it out with a LAW.”
I stood up on his order, firing quickly and rapidly. I could tell that the mg wasn’t fortified. It had probably just been placed there. It returned fire, the bullets ricocheting off our cover. We ducked down, the bullets whizzing past our heads. I popped up and fired a burst from my rifle. The machine gunner almost zeroed in on me when he fired a long stream at me. I would later count three holes in the sleeves of my jump fatigues. This machine gunner was good. He would fire at us with sporadic bursts, or long, raking streams of lead. Muir fired a grenade from his A-27 grenade launcher, which gave us some time to fire on the machine gunner again.
Apparently the 3rd stick had gotten close enough to the position, because the nest exploded in an orange ball of flames. Muir gave a thumb’s up in 3rd stick’s general direction and ordered us to move out. We got up out of our cover and ran towards the entrance of our assigned hanger. The hanger doors were partially opened, and we were fired upon as we ran by the opening. We got on either side of the opening, preparing to enter the hanger.
After several minutes, Muir fired an A-27 into the hanger. He quickly slung the grenade launcher and pulled out his A-7 Viking smg. It was a small, hard hitting weapon commonly carried by officers. He moved in first, followed by Luther, Spear and Brereton. Sosbowski was shot on his way in. We pulled him back, and then I went in.
The hanger was mostly empty. Two Babylonian jet fighters lay in flames-Muir’s grenade had destroyed them both. Babylonian troops fired on us from cat walks above our heads, but the walks also provided no cover. And these troops were bad shots. Probably conscripts.
I raised my rifle and fired, my shots hitting one Babylonian in the chest and throwing him off the catwalk. I found another target and fired, and another Babylonian soldier was dead. The whole stick was inside now, except Sosbowski. He had been hit in the lower stomach, but he would be just fine. All this had happened in about ten seconds. I scrambled away from the door, ending up under one of the jets. Apparently there was no fuel in either of the fighters.
The Babylonians still ran around on the cat walks, using they’re advantage of height, while we used they’re lack of cover as our main advantage. The Shootout lasted little more than tem minutes. I got an additional five kills in the fire fight. Muir called us together. He looked us over quickly, making sure everyone was ok. Once he was satisfied, he began speaking into a handheld radio.
“Juliet two four, this is Kilo four six, we’ve taken the hanger. Enemy troops retreated into connecting buildings. Request permission to pursue, over.”
“Kilo four six, this is Juliet two four. Request denied. We’re leaving the side buildings for the mechanized infantry troops when they’re flown in. over.”
“Sir, I respectfully disagree. We can take these guys out now, over.”
“Its not my choice. General Urquhart wants us not to take unnecessary risks. Heavy resistance is expected in New Nimrud. He wants us to have all the troops available, over and out.”
That was it. We went around and checked the bodies for souvenirs-pistols, watches, or other items. We came out of it with relatively little luck. After that, we began to consolidate our gains. ‘Ski’ was sent back to us in a matter of hours. The bullet had hit some of his ammo, which almost completely halted the bullet, leaving only a nasty bruise. We were glad to have him back.
Within an hour after capturing the air field, we could hear the T-190 transport planes bringing in 1st, 2nd, and 3rd mechanized infantry divisions. I looked out at the airfield, amazed at the display of strength.
Each mech infantry division consisted of 16,000 men and 200 IFVs. The number of troops in my sight now was incredible. 48,000 infantry men and 600 fighting vehicles were preparing for their assignments. The 10,000 men who made up the 182nd airborne division were largely out of sight, though I did notice some shaking the hands of our infantry brothers. They were probably relatives.
Once the infantry were ready and prepared, the 182nd formed up to the NE of the airfield. We were now on the way to Nimrud.
Come on, this story was great!
