The trenches had barely been finished by the time the Japanese hit the shores. No artillery flew in this landing, and no planes soared overhead. The beach was eerily silent. What few men that had fallen back from Geraldton earlier in the month now looked on as the foreign invaders crept up onto the dunes. It took several long, drawn-out minutes for them to get near the trench, and when they did, it was they, unfortunately, who drew blood first.
They must have spotted us from sea, digging in and hauling equipment around, and so they knew where to look. This inexperienced group of barely-adults had hardly gotten their guns together when the Japanese opened fire, massacring them. A second trench, further back, sprung into action and mowed them down, while more of the Japanese infantry came up the dune, careful now that they knew a firefight was on. After several brief exchanges of fire, and thousands of casualties on both sides, night fell. By the cover of darkness, we fell back in utter silence, taking up new positions around the capital. Our losses had been too great to hold off another assault on that beach.
The following morning, the Japanese felt confusion as they found no enemy to fight, and only a few crude traps set in the abandoned trenches, most of which failing to activate. They pressed on and on, sweeping through small towns along the way, but finding no resistance. Perhaps they had gotten cocky by the time they reached the capital, or perhaps they felt the battle was nearly over with that proud Australian flag nearly in their grasp, or perhaps any number of things caused them to rush head-long into the defense, but really, the point is, they did. The first assault on the capital city was a brutal failure, and several thousand Japanese infantry fell to the machine guns and land mines set in place around the humble little capital.
Perhaps it was from lack of use through this invasion, or something to do with improper cleaning once they got off those sandy beaches, but the Japanese weapons kept jamming on them, leading to an utterly failed second assault. On their third assault on the capital, it seemed that now both armies were having problems. Military historians would likely one day laugh at this part of the battle, as equipment failure made combat impossible. Unfortunately, the Japanese got their guns in order first, and swept over the defenses like some terrible, horrible, evil wind made up of Japanese guys, and the handsome Australians dropped dead at their relentless attacks.
Following the seizure of the capital, and the horrifying public execution (probably, right?) of the executive family on prime time television (that's likely, right?), several training camps were knocked over, and the brave young recruits were all forced to go get regular jobs instead, likely serving the new Japanese occupation force their necessary and delicious fast food.
But somewhere, somehow, somewhy... a force may or may not lurk in the dark! A force of freedom...
evil freedom... looking to one day kick the Japanese as far out of Australia as they can. They were...
*thunder... thunder...*
The Royal Wallaby Liberation Force!
OOC: I can have fun with animal-armies, too!
