The War of the crazy Women

[Globetrotter]

“Sound the alarm!” shouted one man in the front ship of the English convoy, heading back to Barcelona. “Enemy ship 6 miles to the north!”

It was around 1 p.m., when the front ship of the English fleet first sighted the ASS Monitor, standing still a couple of miles south of the city. The English fleet consisted of 3 galleons escorted by 3 frigates: HMS Lancaster, HMS Thumberland and HMS Douglas.

The Lancaster was moored about a hundred yards below the galleons, and the Thumberland a little above them. As soon as the Monitor came within range, the batteries and war-vessels opened fire. The Douglas was far back, protecting their rears. The Monitor passed on up, exchanging broadsides with the Lancaster, and making straight for the Thumberland, at which she made a dash, firing her bow-guns as she struck the doomed vessel with her prow.

“I can hardly believe my senses!” cried Kirk when he saw the masts of the Thumberland begin to sway wildly. After one or two lurches, her hull disappeared beneath the water, guns firing to the last moment. Most of her brave crew went down with their ship, but not with their colours, for the English flag still floated defiantly from the masts. This first act of the drama was over in about thirty minutes, but it seemed to only a moment to the spectators on board of the HMS Douglas.

“It’s impossible to resist such an assault”, reckoned the commander of the Lancaster. “Slip the cables and run her aground upon the shallows!” he then ordered, with commendable promptness and presence of mind.

The Monitor, drawing twenty-three feet of water, was unable to approach her, and could attack her with artillery alone. But, although the Lancaster had more guns than the Monitor, it was an unequal conflict, for the projectiles hurled at the Monitor glanced harmlessly from her iron-covered roof, while the Monitor’s guns raked the Lancaster from end to end.

Great numbers of people from the neighbourhood of Barcelona, as well as soldiers from the nearest posts, had rushed to the shore to behold the spectacle. The cannonade was visibly raging with redoubled intensity; but to the amazement of everyone aboard the Douglas, not a sound was heard from the commencement of the battle, as a strong wind was blowing direct from the ship towards the city.

“We can’t hear the sound of the fire, but we can see every flash of the guns and the clouds of white smoke” noted a sailor. “Damn this wind!”

“On the contrary!” argued Kirk. “This wind is working for us. Soon, we’ll be joining the battle and help the men, before the Monitor attacks the galleons!”

The Monitor meanwhile, concentrated her fire upon the ill-fated Lancaster. The latter replied gallantly until her commander, captain Smith, was killed and her decks were reeking with slaughter. Then her colours were hauled down and white flags appeared at the gaff and mainmast.

Through his field-glass, Kirk could see the crew of the Lancaster making their escape to the shore over the bow. Unable to secure her prize, the Monitor set her on fire with hot shot, and turned to face new adversaries just appearing upon the scene of conflict.
--------------------------------------------------

 

[Globetrotter]

It was a clear night, with a full moon that beautifully reflected on the sea. Stars were seen shining all over above. The only sound heard was that of the waves breaking on the shores.

“Where the hell are they?” whispered an English soldier, as tension started to rise among the last defenders of Valencia. “It’s been three days we’ve been waiting for them to come! Three days and we haven’t slept a single minute!”

“May be they are trying to wait for us to starve!” shouted another one.

“May be they are just reorganizing”, noted a third soldier.

It was a weird situation for the defenders entrenched in the small harbor of Valencia. They all knew that the enemy was at the gates, but yet, they saw no sign of him. They ignored that a halt was ordered as negotiations were taking place in Paris, between the Arab leader and the English government representative. And what they surely ignored was that with the collapse of these negotiations, they were to be doomed. The city had fallen, leaving only the port. The guerilla had already surrounded the area, and a rapid thrust to cut the English troops from the sea and finish them off seemed likely.

Around 3 a.m., the three eastern warehouses came under heavy gunfire, from automatic machineguns. At almost the same moment a new threat developed from two other directions against the forces in the pocket: on either side of the docks over the sand beaches, silhouettes and shadows were spotted thanks to the moonlight.

“That’s it guys! They’re coming!” shouted Lt. James.
The defenders positioned themselves in lines, taking cover behind trenches dug on the beaches. These trenches were difficult to maintain, and had to be renewed almost every couple of hours, as the waves filled the holes with water and eroded the erected sand mounts.

The fighting on the beaches began around 4 o’clock, as the silhouettes were now clearly enemy units, heading towards the docks. As time passed by, more and more enemy troops arrived, and the fighting increased in intensity. However, near the eastern warehouses, there was no movement spotted. Only fire exchange.

A couple of hours later, the fighting on the beach was now more or less stable. The guerilla had managed to cover the sand area, but was stopped near the concrete walls that surrounded the docks, on both sides. But to the north, this advance had now uncovered the northern warehouse flank, that soon was submitted to heavy fire and several attacks were mounted against it, in an attempt to seize it.

By 10 a.m., Lt. James rushed to the northern warehouse, to enquire about the status of the defenders. The area was still under high pressure, but resisted so far, under the command of Jason, James’ friend.

“The situation out here is very dramatic. We can’t hold any longer. The boys have resisted well, taking down several enemy units. But most of us are wounded”, explained Jason, himself being wounded in his right arm and left foot. “And we are running out of ammo!”

“We take one down, ten other appear out of no where!” added Cpl. Durling.

“Same situation on the beach. But we managed to halt them… for now…” noted James.

“What’s the status elsewhere?” asked Jason.

“We have lost warehouse number 3, the south most in the east, an hour ago. Warehouses 1 and 2 are still resisting, as they did not face any frontal assault yet.”

“I suggest we fall back to the docks”, said the corporal. “Our flanks are uncovered, there is nothing much to hope from here. The docks are our only chance. The enemy is regrouping for another attack. We should proceed fast.”

And so, the order was given to pull out the wounded first, taking advantage of the pause the enemy was taking to regroup. Half an hour later, the last man withdrew towards the docks. Around noon, the assault was renewed, and the warehouse taken, but there was no one there.
---------------------------------------------------

 

[Globetrotter]

“It’s about time we open a second front to hit England” advised Scent of a Squaw. “Our troops are now deep into English land, and it is expected they meet much higher resistance as they advance.”

“What do you mean by another front?” inquired Abu Bakr. “China?”

“Well, China and England did fight each others some time back, and the Chinese did loose a couple of cities in the north. If we get them to join us, this will surely cause the English to divert some of their troops and protect their northern cities.”

“Hmmm… Sounds interesting. Very well. Get me the Chinese ambassador. I heard that they have a new ambassador sent out here.”

“Hu is the new ambassador for China”, noted the Iroquois general.

“Well, that’s what I would like to know”, replied the Arab leader.

“That’s what I'm telling you: Hu is the new ambassador of China!”

“That’s what I'm asking you. Who is the new leader of China?”

“Yes”, replied Scent of a Squaw.

“I mean the fellow’s name!”

“Hu.”

“The Chinese ambassador!”

“Hu.”

“The new ambassador of China.”

“Hu.”

“The Chinaman!” raged Abu Bakr.

“Hu is the new ambassador of China” answered the advisor.

“Well, I’m asking you. Who is the new ambassador of China?!”

“That’s the man’s name.”

“That’s who’s name?”

“Yes.”

“Will you or will you not tell me the name of the new Chinese ambassador? Are you deaf or something?”

“Just blind sir”, noted the Iroquois general. “Then should I call Hu?”

“Just call the new ambassador of China and bring him in!” ordered finally the Abu Bakr.

“Yes sir!” replied the Scent of a Squaw as he left the room.

‘Yassir? This old man is now the new ambassador of China?’ wondered Abu Bakr somehow puzzled. ‘Geez, how did he get there?’
---------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, a small man wearing eye glasses, dressed in a very nice suit and carrying a dark suitcase was introduced into the meeting room.

“I’m the new ambassador of China”, he said in a low and polite voice, hardly audible.

“Who?”

“Yes sir”, answered the Chinese diplomat.

“Yassir? I have heard so much about you!” noted Abu Bakr, as he moved forward to shake the diplomat’s hands. “Welcome to Paris! Please have a seat.”

Then, he stared at the man, now clearly puzzled.
‘I did not know that Yassir was so young and looked Chinese’ he thought.

“I have a proposal for you to send to your leader”, started Abu Bakr. “I offer you and your country the opportunity of getting back the northern cities you have lost in your previous war with England.”

“You are so kind, Abu Bakr. And what do you expect in return?”

“Just to join us into a military alliance against the English. As we fight in the south and in the center, you can take back your cities.”

“I’m sure Mao will have a look at this. He has been longing to have back all the cities that china has lost in the last decade”, added the diplomat – in other words, that meant that Mao was somehow furious with Arabia, and would eventually want to get back the three Chinese cities of Shanghai, Nankin and Hangshow from Arabia.

“I’m sure he will want that, and I will not let him down. I will do everything that is within my power to make his wish come true”, promised the Arab leader, although deep inside, he knew that China would be the next country on the list, once Arabia is done with England.

After a couple of hours of discussions about several other matters and joint plans, the two men separated with a whole list of agreements, the most important of them was the opening of a second front in the north, against England. This would also mean that the sea route from England to Spain would be denied by the Chinese fleet, and the garrisons in Spain will be cut off from all sort of reinforcements.

That day was not without another great news to the Arab leader: the Indian foreign affairs minister Jabladahra had announced that India was to declare war against England, as it claimed the independence of the southern English provinces, next to its territories. These lands were once German, and the presence of heavy English military near the Indian border was not well appreciated by the Indian government. By dawn of the very next day, Indian troops were spotted moving north towards those cities.
-------------------------------------------------

 

[Globetrotter]

I know i might have used some known jokes / speeches. But it just adds to the fun of it

 

[Ukraineboy]

ohhh... you just modified it in Civ-Editor?...

is there anyway to download like.. .ini file or something so I can install it for all games?

 

[Ukraineboy]

ok, nevermind...

explain to me how to edit the Guerilla in the editor, and how to make it hidden nationality and treat terrain like roads.

 

[Globetrotter]

Originally posted by Ukraineboy
ok, nevermind...
explain to me how to edit the Guerilla in the editor, and how to make it hidden nationality and treat terrain like roads.

When you run civ-edit, it will open your .bic file.
Once there, go to edit-rules-unit.
Choose Guerilla. You'll see all the options for it, especially in the lower left part of the screen.
You should have at least PTW by the way to have the Guerilla.
Still, you can go to the Unit forums. There are lots of discussions about how to add units and so into Civ. Enjoy

 

[Ukraineboy]

Thanks, I figured out how

 

[Globetrotter]

As the battle was now gaining in intensity, the English galleons Minnesota, Richmond, and St. John were ordered to the assistance of the sinking ships and surviving crews. The Minnesota was the first to reach the scene, but the Thumberland and the Lancaster were already past help. As soon as she came within range, a rapid cannonade commenced between her and the Monitor. The Minnesota, drawing nearly as much water as the Monitor, grounded upon a shoal in the North Channel. This at once put an end to any further attacks by ramming; but the lofty galleon, towering above the water, now offered an easy target to the rifled guns of the Monitor and the lighter artillery of the gunboat. Still, a shot from her exploded the Monitor’s boiler, causing much loss of life and disabling the vessel for the rest of the battle.

In the meantime the Richmond and St. John were approaching. As they passed the Monitor, the ironclad opened fire upon them, and they replied with broadsides. Just at that moment the scene was one of unsurpassed magnificence. The bright afternoon sun shone upon the glancing waters. The shores of Barcelona were seen swarming with soldiers, now idle spectators of a conflict, and the flames were just bursting from the abandoned Lancaster. The stranded Minnesota seemed a huge monster at bay, surrounded by the Monitor. The entire horizon was lighted up by the continual flashes of the artillery of all these ships; clouds of white smoke rose in spiral columns to the skies, illumined by the evening sunlight, while land and water seemed to tremble under the thunders of the cannonade.

The Minnesota was now in a desperate situation. It is true that, being aground, she could not sink, but, looking through the glass, the people aboard the Douglas, now getting closer, could see a hole in her side, made by the Monitor’s rifle shells. She had lost a number of men, and had once been set on fire. Her destruction or surrender seemed inevitable, since all efforts to get her afloat had failed. But just then the Monitor turned away from her toward the Richmond and the St. John. These vessels had suffered but little from the distant fire, but both had run aground, and had not been floated off again with great difficulty, for it was very hazardous for vessels of deep draught to manoeuvre over these comparatively shallow waters. When the Monitor approached, they delivered broadsides and were then towed back with promptness. The Monitor pursued them to a short distance (for by this time darkness was falling upon the scene of action, the tide was ebbing, and there was great risk of running aground), fired a couple of rounds, condemning the two ships, and then steamed away, heading north, before anchoring a couple of miles away.

And now followed one of the grandest episodes of this splendid yet sombre drama. The moon in her second quarter was just rising over the waters, but her silvery light was soon paled by the conflagration of the burning ships, whose glare was reflected in the river. The burning ships a couple of miles away seemed much nearer. As the flames crept up the rigging, every mast, spar, and rope glittered against the dark sky in dazzling lines of fire. For hours the flames raged, with hardly a perceptible change in the wondrous picture. At irregular intervals, loaded guns and shells, exploding as the fire reached them, sent forth their deep reverberations. They continued to burn until the brightness of the blaze was effaced by the morning sun.

“Men, to your posts!” ordered Kirk. “We are closing upon the Monitor!”

It was clear that the Monitor, clearly damaged by the previous day battle, was standing still, probably to try and repair the damage incurred. It was just a matter of hours before the Douglas could catch up with her.

The sun was just rising when the Monitor was caught up by the Douglas. The Douglas darted out from behind the Minnesota wreck, whose immense bulk had effectually concealed her from view.

The first shots of the Monitor were directed at the Minnesota, which was again set of fire; but the Douglas, having the advantage of light draught, placed herself between the Monitor and her intended victim, and from that moment the conflict became a heroic single combat between the two ships. For an instant they seemed to pause, as if to survey each other. Then advancing cautiously, the two vessels opened fire as soon as they came within range, and a fierce artillery duel raged between them without perceptible effect, although the entire fight was within close range, from half a mile at the farthest down to a few yards. For four hours, from 8 to 12 (which seemed three times as long), the cannonading continued with hardly a moment’s intermission.

During the evolutions, in which the Douglas had the advantage of light draught, the Monitor ran aground. The ship was now unmanageable. The damage done earlier to its boiler was now beyond repair, as the Douglas concentrated all its fire towards it. The Douglas itself sustained lots of damage, as 80 percent of its guns were out of use, and all of its sailing wings were brought down by shells. But in a ultimate round fired from the Douglas, a huge white smoke emerged from the back of the Monitor, preceding a huge blast, that torn the ship in two pieces. No one survived the explosion.

Cheers were heard from the Douglas, as they watched the Monitor’s end. Still, a moment of silent was respected, dedicated to the lives of all the sailors that have fallen during this battle that lasted two days. Even the crew of the Monitor deserved the admiration of their enemy.

“These were all brave men”, thought Kirk, as he ordered his aid to send a message to Barcelona, asking for help to tow his ship to the city’s harbour.
-------------------------------------------------

 

[Globetrotter]

“We have captured warehouses 1 and 2!” reported Sanchez, one of Guevara’s finest officers. “It’s just a matter of time till we reduce the pocket resistance at the docks. Our troops are preparing for the last attack. By dawn, it will be all over!”

“You will attack not later than midnight!” ordered Guevara to one young officer standing by. “I have to run to Santiago. Things will soon start to be interesting there.” The young officer was no one else but Lars. He had finally vowed to seek revenge from the English who once deceived him, a long time ago, and joined the guerilla.

It was already 8 p.m. that evening, and the English defenders were now all entrenched near the docks, having suffered already more than 90 percent of casualties. There was no way the men could resist the final attack that was to be conducted against their position.

As scheduled, around midnight, the final assault was finally ordered. The resistance was far weaker than expected. The men led by Lars faced only wounded and crippled English men. These were easily disarmed.

‘Probably they were trying to cover the escape of some of their countrymen’ thought the officer. “Men!” he ordered. “Conduct a full search of the area!”

As time passed by, most of the harbor was finally cleared. The men came back, having captured a young girl. “We caught a spy,” confirmed one man.

“Bring her to me”, ordered Lars.

The girl in chains, was brought in front of Lars.
“You, girl! What’s your name?” asked Lars.

The girl looked up at all these armed men that were staring at her.
“Alice”, she calmly answered.

“There were men running this way. Where did they go?” shouted Lars.

“Down in the hole” answered the girl, indicating a sort of a tunnel that was dug a couple of yards away. It looked more like a recent sewage project.

“Where does it lead to?” inquired one man.

“To a whole new world…” replied the girl.

“As long as it is not wonderland!” laughed Lars. “Send me a couple of men to search for Englishmen over there”, he ordered, pointing out the tunnel.
----------------------------------------------------

Having opted not to travel with security forces or an entourage that might bring attention to him, as he felt more and more hunted, only dirt and a rug separated the former Arab minister Jaafar, from the soldiers who routed him from his hiding place a week earlier.

“He was in the bottom of a hole with no way to fight back,” said Aladdin. “He was caught like a rat.”

Jaafar’s capture was based not on a direct tip, but a collection of intelligence gathered from the hostile questioning of his former bodyguards and family members. That intelligence prompted Aladdin and his men to go to Baghdad, where they were to find the former minister.

“We realized early on in the summer... the people we had to get to were the midlevel individuals, his bodyguards... We tried to work through family and tribal ties that might have been close to Jaafar,” later confided Aladdin. “Over the last 10 days or so, we brought in about five to ten members of these families, ... and finally we got the ultimate information from one of these individuals.”

After they received the ‘actionable intelligence’ earlier that day, the search squad was given the assignment to kill or capture Jaafar in a mission dubbed ‘Black Hawk Down’.

Around a forty men prepared to move on two locations. Even with reliable information, the force initially failed to grab Jaafar in raids on two targets near Baghdad. But a subsequent cordon and search operation in the same area unearthed the ragged, bearded fugitive. The troops converged on a two-room mud hut squatting between two farmhouses with sheep penned nearby. One room, which appeared to serve as a bedroom, was in disarray with clothes strewn about the area. The other room was a just a crude kitchen. Inside that shack, a plug closed Jaafar’s subterranean hideaway. Dirt and a rug covered the entryway to the hole.

“We think the pressure had become so tight on him, that he knew he couldn’t travel in large entourages so he didn’t have any men with him, didn’t have much of a security force,” explained Aladdin. “He was armed with a pistol but showed no resistance during his capture.”

Soldiers also recovered a couple of AK 47 rifles, and a huge amount of money. Troops took some other unidentified men affiliated with Jaafar into custody.

By 10:15 p.m., Jaafar was moved to an undisclosed location and soldiers continued to search the area for men loyal to him. It was clear to all that attacks on production areas will still occur, causing harm to the cities production, but at least now rioting and resistance ceased in all of the conquered cities.
---------------------------------------------------

 

[Globetrotter]

“What’s the situation out here?” inquired the Commandante as he arrived to his head quarters facing Santiago. “Are we ready to attack?”

“We were just waiting for you sir.”

The Arab siege of Santiago and its ring of fortified nearby positions comprised the longest and widest battle of the Spanish War in term of space and time. ‘He who controls Santiago, controls Spain’ thought Guevara. In a letter to Uthman, Guevara argued that the key to winning the war lay not on the Eastern Front against English mainland, but on the Western Front, as the fall of cities will suck many English brigades in a desperate battle. He reasoned that if England could be defeated in a major set-piece battle in the west, England would in all likelihood seek terms with Arabia, or else be defeated in turns.

Guevara’s choice of Santiago as the focus to his guerrilla offensive was due to the fact that the city laid pretty much in the center of Spain, and controlling it would make easier the access to the remaining cities. His plan was to subject Santiago to intense siege, thus drawing in and diverting English troops from all over the Western Front to the eight mile wide front around the city. He then stated that his aim was to “bleed England white” in its defense of the town. The fact that Santiago formed now an English salient into Arab lines after the fall of Valencia only served to help Guevara, since it meant that it was open to attack from three sides at once.

In the interim between the planned and actual start date of the attack, the English Commander-in-Chief received intelligence of the imminent attack, hastily deploying reinforcements to the English defending Army. Meanwhile the city commander, colonel Brian, vainly attempted to improve Santiago’s trench systems in time.

Brian prepared for the onslaught by posting two battalions, led by himself, at the tip of the Santiago salient. The attack finally began at 07:15 the very next day, from the south. By the close of the day the guerilla forces had succeeded only in capturing the English front line trenches, much less than planned, although Brian himself had been killed during the battle, and his two battalions demolished.

“It’s going to be tougher than I thought”, felt Guevara. “We’d better withdraw for now and regroup, and wait for reinforcement to arrive.”

“But sir!” interjected one of the nearby officers. “We still can send our reserves!”

“We will regroup now!” ordered the Commandante.

Guevara finally withdrew his forward battalions in preparation for a further assault, thus taking the sting out of the momentum that had been generated. Had he followed the advise, the city would have fallen as the English were really in a bad shape. More importantly he allowed the English defenders to position themselves such that they were able to enfilade the advancing guerilla troops from across the grasslands to the east of their location.

And so, the city remained in English hands, although the defensive situation was dire. A message was sent to English headquarters in Barcelona reporting that Brian had been killed, as had all company commanders, and that the battalion had been reduced from 1000 to around 200 men.
---------------------------------------------------

 

[Volum]

“He was in the bottom of a hole with no way to fight back,” Soldiers also recovered a couple of AK 47 rifles, and a huge amount of money.

That sounds familiar, if i can just figure out what that reminds me off.

 

[Globetrotter]

Originally posted by Volum


That sounds familiar, if i can just figure out what that reminds me off.

Got it right...
It just inspired me, to make the pollution look as "inside resistance actions" + one turn where lots of civil disorder occured in my cities.
Then, i managed to bring order back to the cities, and i thought that would be when i capture the "resistance planner".
So i just added it in the story...

 

[Jaded_Feriluce]

My god this is a great story! lol Just about made me feel stupid for the silly one I just posted... Good job!

 

[Globetrotter]

Originally posted by Jaded_Feriluce
My god this is a great story! lol Just about made me feel stupid for the silly one I just posted... Good job!

Thx. It's cool to have some feedback from time to time
I'll try to post something this evening (still at work... pffffff)

 

[Globetrotter]

The battle of Valencia that opposed the Arabs to the English was now over. It was to be one of toughest battles on the Spanish soil. It was by chance that James, Jason, and some dozen wounded men were able to escape through a tunnel, that had been built by some Spanish lord ages ago.

The group walked slowly, crouching, keeping close in line, following attentively every move Jason made, as he took the lead. After a couple of hours, they all reached the open air.

“I wonder where we are”, said one man.

“Probably a couple of miles southeast of Valencia”, replied Jason.

“Geez! It’s full of water out here!” moaned another trooper.

“This confirms our location then”, noted James. “I think we’ve reached the marshes. North of our position, just half a mile from here, are the grasslands with real high grass, where a great battle was fought not very long ago. These marshes were part of the defence line that linked Valencia to Santiago. This means that we are in enemy territory now. We have to move north. Be careful.”

The group was finally in the open air. As they moved north, the marshes grew more wet, opening into large sluggish mares, among which it grew more and more difficult to find firmer places where feet could step without sinking into gurgling mud. The men did not carry much, otherwise none of them would ever have found a way trough. They had no rifles neither. If spotted from far, they would look like normal workers wandering in the area.
The sun was about to rise in the east. However, the air itself seemed black and heavy to breathe. Combined with the slippery mud, the men were finding it difficult to advance.

“It still smells like powder, and something else,” noted Jason. “I wonder how it was here.”

When light first appeared, Jason rubbed his eyes; he thought his head was going queer. He first saw one with the corner of his left eye, a wisp of pale sheen that faded away; but others appeared soon after: here and there they twisted like ghostly sheets spread out by hidden hands. But neither of his companions spoke a word.

At last Jason could bear it no longer.
“What’s all this, James?” he said in a whisper. “These shapes? They’re all round us now. Who are they?”

James looked up. A dark water was before him, and he was crawling on the ground, this way and that, doubtful of the way.

“Yes, they are all round us,” he whispered. “Corpses… Lots of them…”

He then looked behind, and found that Jason was lagging. He could not see him. He went some paces back, not daring to move far, or to call in more that a hoarse whisper. Suddenly he stumbled against Jason, who was standing lost in thought, looking at the pale corpses. His hands hung stiff at his sides; water and slime were dipping from them. The other men did not look much better.

“Move guys!” he ordered. “Don’t look at them! Let’s keep moving and get out of this place as quick as we can.”

“There are dead things, dead faces in the water,” noted Jason, horrified. “Dead faces!”

James sighed.

“Who are they? What are they?” asked one of the men shuddering, turning to James, who was now behind him.

“I don’t know,” answered another man in a dreamlike voice. “But I have seen them too. I know not who they are, but I thought I saw there English, Spanish and Arabs beside each others.”

“Yes, yes,” said James. “All dead, all rotten. English, Spanish and Arabs. There was this great battle not long ago, from which I escaped; and you’ll probably find corpses all the way till the grasslands in the north. But enough of it! We have to move quick, otherwise the enemy will catch us.”
---------------------------------------

Near Santiago, the following day, still attacking from the south, Guevara’s troops succeeded in over-running the second line of trenches, forcing the defenders to within 8 kilometers of Santiago itself.

An English division sent in piecemeal as reinforcement that same day was dispersed under heavy guerilla flanking fire. In the mean time, news arrived that more cities in the English mainland falling to Arabia, and that London itself was in Arab hands. This had a negative impact on the English morale, both upon the remaining defenders and the reinforcements freshly arrived. The English needed something to boost their morale back: withdrawal from Santiago was now therefore politically impossible.

It was understood that the defense of Santiago would result in many English casualties. However, the defenders were now determined to inflict the maximum damage to the invaders in the course of these losses. Meanwhile the casualties were mounting rapidly on both sides. By the time the battle ended thousands of casualties had been incurred in roughly equal numbers on either side.

“Sir!” said Lt. Sanchez. “We have word that more of our guerilla and allied units are approaching the city from the west and the north.”

“Time has come then to finish this battle. Send orders to all units to mount a full assault!”

The 3rd day saw the third major offensive, this time from three different sides. The defenses held firm at first, but the tiring English riflemen were now cut off from any reinforcement, and were clearly overwhelmed. They were running low on ammo, whereas the attackers were receiving fresh troops. There was no other choice for the defenders. Still, they fought for every inch, every building was to become a fortress. If they ran out of ammo, they would fight with the bayonets. But at dawn of the fourth day, the English flag that once proudly dominated the city was lowered and burnt, then replaced by the Arab flag.

“Put the Spanish flag there! What the hell is an Arab flag doing there?” raged Guevara.

“Er... Sir, may I remind you that most if not all of these troops are Arab. I think it would be politically incorrect to put up the Spanish flag”, advised Sanchez. “It’s better to keep a low profile now. We still need these men.”

“Our time will come!” fumed the Commandante.

“Sure it will” nodded the lieutenant.
--------------------------------------------

 

[Globetrotter]

“Abu Bakr!” rushed Elisabeth.

“I’m sorry sir, I could not prevent her from running into your office”, interrupted the secretary, as she stared at the English leader. “She just…”

“Never mind”, said Abu Bakr. “You can leave now.”

Then, turning towards Elisabeth: “How can I help you Elisabeth?”

“I urge you to discuss peace! Our troops are approaching your cities. If you want to prevent a slaughter…”

“Yeah, the slaughter of your own army!” jumped in Isabella, to Elisabeth greatest shock.

“What are you doing here you…”

“We were just reinforcing our alliance”, calmly said Abu Bakr, with a light smile on his face.

“Here you are Lizzy!” shouted Thatcher, almost out of breath. “It’s been days I’ve been looking for you!”

“Hello, Mrs. Thatcher”, noted Abu Bakr. “I see you also ignored knocking before entering the room. Where have English manners gone?”

“They are becoming Arab!” replied Thatcher, not without sarcasm.

“Life is tough, isn’t it?” asked Abu Bakr. “By conquering whatever cities you have left, we will teach the English people the Arab courtesy. Now ladies, I was in a meeting here. What can I do for you?”

“Stop the war! Stop the aggression against our homeland!” said Thatcher.

“I heard that some while ago”, remembered Abu Bakr. “There were people rioting in a couple of former English cities. Well, I guess they are quiet for good now.”

“What do you mean?” raged Elisabeth. “They are all dead? You butchered innocent civilians, sending your troops in! You deserve to be hanged for that!”

“Now where did you get all these ideas? All we did was to give them some money and luxuries they never enjoyed under English rule. And there, they were all happy again! You guys are easily bought, you know”, he added. “As for the war, there is no stopping unless you give up Spanish cities and hand them over back to Spain. And don’t try to negotiate getting back the cities you’ve lost to us. There is no use.”

“Abu Bakr, you understand that you leave me no choice here”, said Elisabeth, realizing that this was almost the end for her leadership.

“You still can save the couple of cities left that you have in the northeast!”

“No way! There is nothing to these cities, no resources, nothing!”

“Then there is no discussion.”

“We will fight till the last man standing!”

“I’m sure you will. Now ladies, if you excuse us, we have work to do.”

The English representatives were shown the way out.
---------------------------------------------

The fall of Valencia and that of Santiago now opened the road to the remaining English occupied cities. The bulk of the English forces in Spain was almost destroyed, and reinforcement hardly arrived as most of the English convoys heading to Spain, and carrying troops, were intercepted by the Chinese navy.

On top of that, the English had to send troops to defend now their homeland against Indian incursions in the south, Chinese in the north, and Arab in the center. In England, most of the major cities were now in Arab hands. It was just a matter of time before the coastal cities and northern cities would fall or surrender.
----------------------------------------------

A week later, back in Spain, the guerilla was now approaching Madrid. Madrid, throughout the duration of the war, had been considered a tough nut to crack. Being the former capital of Spain, the English had entrenched themselves in fortified positions in the environs of the town, especially from the hills north of the city, linking to the ‘Dark Forest’ that surrounded Seville. With Barcelona and Toledo being somewhat isolated on a mini-peninsula in the north-west, which access meant controlling the hills, and Seville being protected by the ‘Dark Forest’, it was clear that Madrid had become the new key city to ending the campaign.

Surely, the English were no longer a huge match for Arab troops at this point, but the presence of the hills and forest provided ideal places for shelter, ambush and fortifications. On the hills was a small camp, situated less than five kilometres north of the city. It had been already scouted by a small platoon the previous day, that knew the ground well, and estimated the English to no more than fifty troopers.

That evening, the Commandante was already in position near the city, checking his troops, and gathering his officer in order to plan for the next attack.

“The plan is easy”, he started. “We shall send 2 battalions north, group A, round Madrid from the west, to secure the hills and prevent any English troops from retreating, or worse, from coming from Barcelona or Toledo to reinforce Madrid. On the other hand, 2 more battalions, group B, will move through the ‘Dark Forest’, and secure the area. In the mean time, we’ll start the pressure on the city from the southern gates. We’ll move tomorrow morning at 1:00 a.m. Sanchez, you lead group A. Fernandez, you take group B.”

“And what will happen then?” asked Sanchez.

“Once the two flanking groups in position, we will move towards the city. Our troops will be all armed with light machineguns. On the hills, we expect our men to secure the area by 5:00 a.m. As for the forest, the men will just position themselves at its perimeter, and will not move into it, yet.”

“But the fight on the hills will alert the city!” critiqued Fernandez.

“True. But this will probably pull most of the defenders to the northern gates”, calmly replied the Commandante. Then, once our guys are in position there, they will fire the yellow flare, and it will be time for us to move. You Fernandez, you’ll make sure nothing comes out these trees. And don’t forget to fire the green flare once you are there.”

The night was rather calm. Lights could be seen from the city. However, the guerilla had clear orders not to start any fires. Probably the English troops had the same orders too, as the hills seemed quite dark too.

At 1:00 a.m., as planned, 2 battalions moved towards the hills, while 2 others headed to the outer edge of the forest. The two groups took their time to reach their target area, stopping frequently to listen. Every half an hour, they would stop and have a five minute break. Hardly a whisper was exchanged.

By 2:00 a.m., Fernandez’ men were already in position, and the green flare was fired.

“Great”, thought the Commandante. “Fernandez is already in position.”
-------------------------------------------

 

[Jaded_Feriluce]

Once again... I must say this story kicks much ***! I loved the Lord of the Rings referance.... very touching.

 

[Globetrotter]

Back in England, the situation was not that simple. England had only a couple of cities left. Lizzy and Maggie were trying to find a solution to this craziness.

“We have to figure out something about Abu Bakr. Invent a story that would gather all the countries against him”, thought Thatcher.

“Yeah. Such as what?” wondered Elisabeth. It was clear she had lost hope. In just a couple of days, it was like she took more than ten years. No time to put on some make up, no time to take a good milk bath… hardly time to take a cup of tea… all of this was gone… besides, how could she think of this while her people suffered hunger and war? ‘This Abu Bakr! If only…’

“Hey Lizzy! I’ve got an idea!” shouted Thatcher, waking up her leader who was clearly day dreaming. “That should work!”

“What? What did you find?”

“Do you remember this scientist that once we sent to Arabia, when we were in good terms and used to have joint scientific researches?”

“Huh? Yes, vaguely I think. His name was Hilton, Hayton…”

“Hutton!” corrected Thatcher.

“Yes. That’s it. What about him?”

“Do you remember this report he wrote about some researches the Arabs were up to? Some scary weapon that could devastate an entire city in one blast!” continued Thatcher.

“And?” wondered Elisabeth, not sure where Thatcher was getting to.

“What if we could prove to the world that the Arabs have found such weapon, and are planning to use it against them? That surely will bring the Russians and the Indians to our side. Not to forget the Germans and the Scandinavians! Even the Chinese would join!”

“But we both know that the Arabs did not have such a program, and surely do not have it now. This weapon you mention could cross thousands of kilometers to hit its target, and we are very far away of having such things, even the Arabs.”

“Basically, what you are saying is true. But who can prove such accusation wrong?”

“Abu Bakr can ask for some international inspection team to show that he has nothing.”

“We can still accuse him of hiding it. Don’t worry. We can still do something about it. We could add also the fact that he made thousands starve to death in several cities, and moved them to do hard work on mines and quarries, and gave their homes to place his own people. Sort of ethnic cleansing.”

“Well”, thought Elisabeth. “I don’t believe much that this will lead anywhere, but who knows? We got nothing to loose. Let’s try it.”
-----------------------------------------------------

“Men ahead!” shouted one scout.

“Are they armed?” asked Lars. Lars had finally decided he would lead the patrol that was sent to find those who survived the battle of Valencia and tried to escape.

“It doesn’t look like it. They look like workers.”

“Good. Let’s get them anyway. We will find a good job for them. There are plenty of roads to be built in this country. Let’s go get them!”

But what Lars did not know, was the big surprise that was awaiting him. Neither James nor Jason were aware of it too. Indeed, it has been ages since these once close friends were separated; indeed they were much more grown ups, and war had reshaped them. Nevertheless, there would still be something that would make them recognize each others.

The Arabo-Spanish patrol quickly joined the group of men led by James. There were no roads in the area – at least, there was one, but it got fully destroyed from previous engagements, and nature had claimed its rights on it.

The captured were lined up, under the threat of the guerilla AK-47. Their hands were tied behind their back, and they were now to be led back to Valencia, most probably for questioning, before being sent to do some forced work on some mining or rail infrastructure.

“What’s wrong, James?” whispered Jason, as he noticed that something clearly troubled his companion. “You look weird.”

“Can't tell if this is true or dream… Deep down inside I feel to scream…” said James in a barely audible whisper.

“Huh? Are you okay buddy?”

“Broken is the promise! Betrayal!” answered James.

“What the hell are you talking about?”
Jason was now getting impatient.

“Silence in the ranks!” shouted one guard.

James waited a couple of minutes, before proceeding:
“Look carefully at the guy in the front, commanding this group. Doesn’t he remind you of someone, someone we used to trust with our lives long time ago?”

Jason was now quite confused. He tried to carefully examine the face of his capturer, but all he could see was the back of his head. Except when the man turned his head to shout some orders at his troopers, and at the prisoners.
----------------------------------------------------

 

[Globetrotter]

The Commandante eagerly awaited for Sanchez signal.
‘Where the hell is he?’ he thought.

It was close to be 5:00 a.m., and not a single shot was heard from the hills.
“This terrible silence is worrying me”, he noted. “Get the main Corps ready. We shall move as scheduled, in half an hour.”

“But sir”, argued one officer. “What about Sanchez?”

“We can’t delay the whole operation. We have to move.”

He almost finished his sentence, that gunshots broke the stillness of the night. The Commandante grabbed his binoculars, and looked towards the direction from where the shots originated.

“Can’t see a damn thing! It looks so quiet on the hills. There is no movement.”

“They probably met with some English troops that were climbing the hills from the opposite direction. From the sound of the fire, we can distinguish our own machineguns, and the English rifles”, guessed the officer.

And he guessed right. As group A reached the top of the hill unchecked, Sanchez prepared to fire his flare and send the signal to Guevara that he had reached his target position. But just before he did so, his front guard engaged contact with an English patrol that came from the opposite side, probably preceding a larger group.

The fight was short lived though, as once again, the English rifles were of no match to the guerilla weapons, especially that the English were caught in the open, and the guerilla had the advantage of the field, being already on top of the hills.

By 5:21 a.m., silence ruled again over the area, and no gun shot was heard anymore. At 5:29 a.m., Sanchez fired his flare, giving the signal.

‘Just in time for us to move’, thought Guevara. ‘Well done’.
--------------------------------------------------

The men were ready to move forward under the command of the Spanish officer. Madrid was surrounded now, and there was no way the defenders could hope for any rescue. The gunfighters moved towards the city. They were all armed with the common AK-47, had a couple of cans of water, no extra ammo, no extra weight, just exactly what they needed: be light enough to move fast through the enemy lines.

By 6:30 a.m., the main Corps reached the outskirts of the city, from the south, still unchecked. Another group was to follow half an hour later, and a third one an hour later. Hence, the attack was to be conducted in waves, hoping to break the moral and resistance of the defenders.

“It’s really calm out here”, whispered Sgt. José, as he ordered his platoon to move with extreme caution and take position next to the first building they reached.

Other platoons also did the same. The attack was just beginning. Twenty minutes later, there was still no contact. The situation was weird and the men were getting more and more stressed. They had occupied now a full neighborhood, and secured the area, without a single shot. Other groups faced the same situation, and covered as much as they did. Almost thirty percent of the city was now under the control of the guerilla.

‘They are probably concentrating their forces in the city center’ thought José.

The guerilla fighters moved forward towards the center of the city.
“Stop!” ordered suddenly José. “This is the city’s barracks! Although it seems quiet, you two, go check it out”, he said, ordering to of his men to confirm his feeling.

Three minutes later, the men came back.
“Empty, no one there. But it seems they left not a long time ago.”

“That confirms it then. They are here somewhere.”

The troop moved forward. The barrack was just some hundred meters from the city center gate. As they approached it, suddenly rounds were fired at them. Three men fell, dead. The troop fired back. From other areas, gunshots were heard. Contact was established. The enemy was finally spotted, entrenched in the city’s main cultural buildings, that were all in the city center: cathedral, temple, library…

‘Burn the area down!’ was the order.

Everything went quickly: the buildings were torched and blown up. Gunshots were exchanged in some areas, especially where the attackers were caught by surprise. But a couple of hours later, the battle ended. There was nothing left from the buildings except ashes and burnt concrete. The city was now in the Commandante’s troops full control. The wounded were evacuated next to a battlefield hospital that was posted at the city perimeter.

“Weird”, noted one trooper. “The battle was that quick. We expected much higher resistance.”

“Look!” said José, pointing down towards the floor. “Remnants of spears, and muskets… The defenders of the city had only spears and muskets! That’s why the fight was easy! We have to report this to our officers. That surely means that the English army is no longer a threat.”

“War will soon be over!” rejoiced the men, as they raised the Arab flag on the city’s barracks.

This was again to piss off the Commandante, as he clearly preferred to see the Spanish flag float on top of what was the Spanish capital.
----------------------------------------------------

Suddenly, as the Spanish led forces were in the process of making sure they cleared Madrid from any hostile units, firing and shooting were heard from the east of the city center. It was late in the afternoon, and everyone thought the English still had positions in the eastern part of the city.

“Call Fernandez to fall back on the eastern Madrilène neighborhood!” ordered the Commandante. “This will calm down the insurgent.”

“Sir”, noted Sanchez, as he arrived to Madrid to present his report for the morning’s events. “It seems that the fighting is outside the city and…”

“We’re taking heavy fire! Send out reinforcements!” shouted one wounded soldier, almost pulling his leg, clearly damaged, before he fell onto the ground, just before the Commandante’s feet, dead.

“It’s one of Fernandez’ men”, said Sanchez. “They seem to have been ambushed near the Dark Forest!”

“I always thought about this areas as dangerous!” fumed Guevara. “Sanchez! You are take fifty men, and go see what is going on, at once!”

“Yes sir!” answered Sanchez, as he hurried away, and headed east.
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