A tale o'war

[ambrafoxtrot]

Whoever reads this will have to forgive me for my non native English

Twilight 2000 system with a totally remade background

Prologue
A wooded area, Florida, United States of America; winter 2000

A new definition of thick wooded area was now part of Lario’s experience background. He looked around, sure that he had found the perfect spot to hide. The misty air and the light rain could not worsen visibility, already made very scarce by the density of the vegetation. Something like that, he had only seen in his training sessions in the Borneo at the British jungle warfare school many years before. The days of the cooperation with the British Special Forces were long gone though, and that was not Borneo, but Western Florida somewhere north of Tampa Bay. The sensation was not very different from the Far East jungles anyway; killing humidity but a somehow chillier temperature. After a night of quasi sleep, Lario was contemplating his own misery and evaluating his options.

He had been expected to rejoin the remnant members of his patrol three weeks earlier at that very topographical point on the map; nobody had shown up. Couple of weeks before, the other two members of his long range recon team left him at the RV point and departed for a scouting mission around the American defensive lines at Hernando Beach, where European Federation forces were ashore and advancing. Nobody ever came back.

Somehow Lario connected the disappearance of his mates with the devastating explosion that he had heard and seen with his own eyes ten days before. The sudden and blinding flash, coupled with the death of his UHF satellite radio, did not leave room for many doubts or speculations; someone had detonated a f$$##*g nuclear warhead over Tampa Bay. Not a huge one…thanks God not a huge one. Given the level of heat and the intensity of the rumbling concussive counter wave that Lario had felt at 50 kilometers of distance from the assumed impact ground, he estimated a 50 to 100 kilotons warhead, a big enough device to have him suffering superficial burns in every exposed part of his body, and breathing an uncertain amount of fallout dust that swept through the woods where he was located. And if that was not enough information, the confirmation of his fears was provided by the appearance of a characteristic detonation mushrooms rising up on the approximate location of Tampa Bay. Needless to say, from that moment on he had been trying to spend as much time as possible under his one man tarp, in order to provide at least some shelter from the presumably radioactive winds and rains that followed the event, even though he knew that expecting real protection from such a measure was wishful thinking at best.

Anxiety and panic followed soon after: a new development had just happened in the war, and it would have been a whole new game from then on, beginning with the fact that Lario had been separated from his patrol, and his chances of survival had been consequently greatly reduced. Days after that, in the lack of any further traumatic events, the survival instinct and the years of training started to prevail inside Lario’s mind, and he gradually started to function again, and to conceive a plan for the immediate future.

At the miserable speed allowed by a body and a brain that were not awake yet, especially considering the quality of the hotel he was staying in, Lario began the preparation for the morning foraging routine. He still had packaged and canned food for about four days, but he did not want to touch that strategic reserve, not if it was not absolutely necessary. He more than once considered the possibility that everything had to be more or less contaminated in the area, but the alternative to starve was not very appealing anyway.

“Another night without anybody finding and killing me”, he thought while he started to check his weapons and to collect his tarp and his sleeping bag. Being alone, he could not maintain constant vigilance during sleep time, but at least so far he had been lucky. Soon his daily routine would have to change. If he decided to start moving, sleeping during daylight and travelling by night would have to become the new rule. And indeed he had already decided that he should try and rejoin the Federation lines, provided that they were still somewhere west of his position. Should such an enterprise prove impossible, he would try to head south and make contact with the Cubans and the Russians that landed in Miami. He needed to find news about what was going on; for too long he had already been cut off from any information, and the destruction of his long range recon patrol had rendered him a totally combat ineffective military unit.

After wrapping up his modest camp site, Lario started to head west. With his combat boots sinking into the cold morning mist, he proceeded carefully taking care of the thick branches hitting his face. No paths were visible in the uniform pattern of thick flora which characterized the place. After having marked his location on his map, he used his compass to give himself a decent bearing to his approximate destination. Once he was satisfied with that, he started to look around for plants or any other wild edible element of nature that he could put his hands on. He considered his reserve of water as well: at normal consumption rate, about 24 hours, but that would not represent a problem considering that according to the map, he was bound to hit a small water body in about two kilometers, if e continued along his present course. No, it was not the water supply that worried him, while he mechanically picked plants that at first sight he judged to be possible nutrition material. He would have them examined more carefully during his first rest break. The water was probably a secondary problem at this stage, the main concern being the operational situation on the ground. Were the European Federation troops still where they were supposed to be? Did they manage to overcome the American resistance? Who detonated the nuclear device that with all probability indicated a new step in the escalation of the tragic madness that was going on? He was fairly sure that it was not a strategic warhead that had been detonated on the approximate location of Tampa Bay. Was that supposed to mean that the Americans were so desperate that they hit their own territory to stop the Federation troops on their tracks, or maybe it was the other way around; the Europeans using a big tactical warhead to smash through the American stubbornness?

Then with no warning at all, it happened. Without even realizing it, distracted as he was by all his thinking, Lario found himself in front of a helmet; unmistakably an American helmet low on the ground. Below the helmet was a face, wide eyes and an open mouth. In less than one second, other details cleared up to Lario’s view: the sandbags of the foxhole the American soldier was in, two more G.I.s sitting a handful of yards behind the position located in a small open area where a HUMVEE sat, covered with branches and a camouflaging net.

Twenty meters, no more separated Lario from the American combat element, and for whatever reason, none of the two parties had noticed the other until the very last moment. Again, the thickness of the ambient vegetation probably played a crucial role. Lario’s mind did not even register the act, but before he was done processing all that visual information, he had dropped his M16 down his body, and drawn his side arm from his leg holster. Twenty meters engagement…too close to efficiently maneuver the Assault rifle; at that distance a short weapon would give him precious initiative.

Almost ten years of close quarter combat practice kicked in at once, as time in Lario’s world slowed down to a rate not accessible to the average line infantry. He took aim at the soldier in the foxhole. The Beretta 92SB went off twice. Double tap, a standard practice in the 9th Assault Parachute Regiment of the Italian Army, when it came down to hostage rescue, room by room clearing and other close quarter actions included in the book. Lario did not hear the noise of the handgun, but registered the mechanical noise of the extractor as he expelled the spent cartridges and put the third bullet in the receiving chamber of his Beretta. The first bullet hissed less than one inch from the American soldier helmet, but the second hit him right in the head with a crack noise as it tried to force his way through the Kevlar composite. The head simply fell on the assault rifle sticking out of the hole, without a sound and without any further movement. The enemy infantryman was either dead or out of commission from the blunt trauma if his helmet ever managed to dissipate the entire penetration power of the 9x19 mm bullet.

A blurry movement on Lario’s left, as two more American G.I.s tried to stand up and ready their weapons. Targets, eleven o’clock, moving right to left…slow.

Lario did not even aim; not enough time for that. The Americans were starting to recover and they needed to be put out of action quickly. Two more shots; Instinctive shooting. The first missed, the second jammed the gun. The cracking noise of the stoppage provoked a surge of adrenaline in Lario’s body. Sudden contact and instantaneous reaction was in Lario’s bag of tricks, but unexpected stoppage of a usually reliable weapon, much less so. At least the first shot obtained the effect of having the Americans hit the deck, which would in turn slow down their reaction even more. Just based on that fact, Lario decided to turn around and run. Standard disengagement technique as well, with the important difference that in that particular instance there was no mate covering his retreat by laying suppressive fire down at the hostiles. So exploiting what Lario had left of initiative, he made a quick dash away from the enemy. Once again, the density of the vegetation came to his help, as he was out of visual range in a quick rush. He run and run, for several minutes at the maximum speed allowed by the exigency to avoid hitting any trees. When he appreciated he could have been at a reasonable distance, he stopped and listened. At the beginning he could only hear his sustained heart rate and heavy breathing, but shortly after he could be reasonably sure that nobody was pursuing him, at least not immediately.
No other particular sound other than the ambient sound of nature around him. He assumed that the enemy was trying to regroup, tending to the casualty and informing any other troops in the neighborhood of his presence in the area.

Gradually Lario calmed down and he started to focus his mind on options again, and he quickly appreciated that the way west was closed. He did not have an idea if he had hit the back of the main American lines or just an isolated outpost. Only further investigation and further probing of the supposed American line could provide an answer. Lario’s decision to head west to try to link up with friendlies stood, but from now on, given the information he had painfully discovered about enemy deployment, he would have to move much more tactically.

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 1: Friends… oh… Friends

After having given it a careful thought, Lario decided to probe the American line further north. With an ear to possible incoming dangers, he started to carefully move with direction north east for 4 – 5 kilometers and then converged northwest – west in order to debouch out of the wood, possibly at its northerner point. Lario’s plan was to venture into the hilly area between Nobelton and Lake Lindsey, and check the consistency of the American position at that latitude.

He proceeded carefully, trying not to feel the exhaustion from the firefight and from the march in the difficult terrain, in a weather that was going from bad to worse. After a two hours march, he found the limit of the wood and he was by then in full red light mode for exhaustion. On the bright side, there was no trace of living being around, no civilians, no military, no nothing. The abundant rain, which had become by then a severe shower, poured down with no mercy, making his journey even more miserable, every step made more difficult by the mud and by the extremely soft terrain. On the positive side, the inclement weather, the light conditions, and the morphology of the terrain made him almost invisible to anybody who was not specifically observing the location where he was walking.

The view of the hilly terrain in front of him past the limit of the wooded area made Lario mind and energies sink. But he could not stop. First of all he had to put more distance between him and the location of the firefight he had in the morning, and secondly he had to find a location with a minimum of shelter for his next break. Also, and even more discouraging, he would have to skip his afternoon foraging because of the heavy rain, and because of his physical status. He had to be careful about that, as more exhaustion led to more inactivity and to more exhaustion and so on and so forth: a very well known downward spiral in Special Forces long range operations. So Lario promised himself that he would draw from his strategic food reserve that night, but whatever happened, he would spend extra time resting and foraging the next day. He could not allow tactical exigencies endanger the whole strategy of his mission. His mission, he continued to repeat in his head, as he dragged one step after the other, was to probe the American lines and to link up with E.F. forces as soon as possible.

And then, once he marched out of the wooded area, he began to climb and descend, climb and descend hills of different size and altitude, none of them very steep, but each of them accumulating more fatigue on his exhausted legs and soul. By the time darkness began to blur the scene, Lario was barely able to compass navigate with a minimum of precision and he had completely abandoned the idea of walking behind the crest lines to minimize his visibility to third parties. It was simply too tired to worry about that. His only worry now was to find a gully or something, where to stop and rest with a minimum of “comfort”, make some hot tea, that he still have in his strategic reserves. At that point, he was not even certain anymore that he would have the energies to eat, but it was starting to become imperative that he found a convenient location to stop and spend the evening and the night.

Completely soaked from head to toe, despite his parka and his hood well tightened around his head and neck, Lario stopped on a crest line to make a 360 observation routine check; more to provide himself with an excuse to take a two minutes break than for a real necessity. He kneeled down, put down his backpack, and paused a moment to massage his sore and stiff shoulders. He extracted his binoculars and gave the horizon a sweep with it, first south and then more carefully, northwest to northeast; the view did not reveal anything encouraging: gray dim horizon, uniform brownish/green landscape, as the showery rain changed the apparent color of the grassland at that particular hour of pre sunset time of the day.

He did not see it on the left to right sweep, but as Lario went back right with his binoculars, he saw it:
“What is that…what is…”
Right in a depression: Lario could not be certain, but yes…a vehicle, a big vehicle. Lario focused better, trying to penetrate the wall of water pouring down from the sky, and yes…it was a turreted APC of some kind. It appeared like miles away, but Lario knew that with that visibility it could not be farther than half a kilometer. Then suddenly, a couple of lights appeared in the vicinity of the vehicle; some movement, Lario could not tell.

And it was decision time again: Approach or evacuate the area. Lario tried to focus his mind on the problem. He had to get closer, see better. If he could proceed with enough caution, the chances that he could be spotted would be slim, especially in that weather. The plan was to close the distance enough to be able to identify the contact, and to get the h*ll out of there if it was a hostile. He was sure that he would have found the extra energies to disengage stealthily if he really needed to, even if he had to collapse short after. He had a contact, he had to identify it. He decided to exploit to the maximum the difference in visibility between him and whoever was “camping” down there.

Lario put is backpack back on, and cautiously started to approach, pausing every 30 seconds or so to observe. Finally, when he was at approximately 250 meters, he stopped, went prone and gave the target another scan with his binoculars.

Lario Realized that he probably could be spotted as well now, even if his prone position and the weather favored him. He gave a good extra scan…

“C.mon…C’mon who are you? Show me who you are buddy!!

“... Go#@mnit…it’s a Dardo”.

At that distance other details became clear. The Dardo AIFV was located at the center of a defensive perimeter which included a pickup truck armed with a TOW antitank fitted in his bed, and a system of hastily dug in positions all around. Inside the perimeter, Lario also saw a circular enclosed fence with some horses, and several tents scattered randomly, including a big one built out of the Dardo’ back door.

Decision time again: chances of having come across elements of the Italian “COMFOD 1”: high.
Chances that it could be an American position with some captured Italian equipment: certainly possible
Chances that he was looking at some kind of illegitimate forces with captured Italian equipment: less likely.

Half aware that he was more wishfully thinking than actually examining his chances objectively, Lario decided to proceed and reveal himself.
According to the Italian Army SOPS for approaching friendlies, without a password, Lario stood up and began to walk with his arms wide open and holding his M16 barrel down.

At about 100 meters from the position, the over worried voice of a clearly surprised sentry froze Lario on his weels:
“Halt…you stoppp and make yorrrself reccognize”

Ah…ha…wrong language and syntax, but damn right accent Lario thought with a smile of relief.

“Sergente maggiore Vailatti...soldato…9° Reggimento Incursori Col. Moschin. Metto il fucile a terra ed aspetto. Non fare cazzate, e nessuno si fa male”, he said overempahsizing his Venice accent.

*Translation: Seargent Major Vailatti here soldier… 9th Raiders Regiment Col. Moschin. I am putting my rifle on the ground. Don’t do anything stupid and nobody gets hurt.

Continues…

Comments and criticism appreciated

ambrafoxtrot

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 1: Friends… oh… Friends

After having given it a careful thought, Lario decided to probe the American line further north. With an ear to possible incoming dangers, he started to carefully move with direction north east for 4 – 5 kilometers and then converged northwest – west in order to debouch out of the wood, possibly at its northerner point. Lario’s plan was to venture into the hilly area between Nobelton and Lake Lindsey, and check the consistency of the American position at that latitude.

He proceeded carefully, trying not to feel the exhaustion from the firefight and from the march in the difficult terrain, in a weather that was going from bad to worse. After a two hours march, he found the limit of the wood and he was by then in full red light mode for exhaustion. On the bright side, there was no trace of living being around, no civilians, no military, no nothing. The abundant rain, which had become by then a severe shower, poured down with no mercy, making his journey even more miserable, every step made more difficult by the mud and by the extremely soft terrain. On the positive side, the inclement weather, the light conditions, and the morphology of the terrain made him almost invisible to anybody who was not specifically observing the location where he was walking.

The view of the hilly terrain in front of him past the limit of the wooded area made Lario mind and energies sink. But he could not stop. First of all he had to put more distance between him and the location of the firefight he had in the morning, and secondly he had to find a location with a minimum of shelter for his next break. Also, and even more discouraging, he would have to skip his afternoon foraging because of the heavy rain, and because of his physical status. He had to be careful about that, as more exhaustion led to more inactivity and to more exhaustion and so on and so forth: a very well known downward spiral in Special Forces long range operations. So Lario promised himself that he would draw from his strategic food reserve that night, but whatever happened, he would spend extra time resting and foraging the next day. He could not allow tactical exigencies endanger the whole strategy of his mission. His mission, he continued to repeat in his head, as he dragged one step after the other, was to probe the American lines and to link up with E.F. forces as soon as possible.

And then, once he marched out of the wooded area, he began to climb and descend, climb and descend hills of different size and altitude, none of them very steep, but each of them accumulating more fatigue on his exhausted legs and soul. By the time darkness began to blur the scene, Lario was barely able to compass navigate with a minimum of precision and he had completely abandoned the idea of walking behind the crest lines to minimize his visibility to third parties. It was simply too tired to worry about that. His only worry now was to find a gully or something, where to stop and rest with a minimum of “comfort”, make some hot tea, that he still have in his strategic reserves. At that point, he was not even certain anymore that he would have the energies to eat, but it was starting to become imperative that he found a convenient location to stop and spend the evening and the night.

Completely soaked from head to toe, despite his parka and his hood well tightened around his head and neck, Lario stopped on a crest line to make a 360 observation routine check; more to provide himself with an excuse to take a two minutes break than for a real necessity. He kneeled down, put down his backpack, and paused a moment to massage his sore and stiff shoulders. He extracted his binoculars and gave the horizon a sweep with it, first south and then more carefully, northwest to northeast; the view did not reveal anything encouraging: gray dim horizon, uniform brownish/green landscape, as the showery rain changed the apparent color of the grassland at that particular hour of pre sunset time of the day.

He did not see it on the left to right sweep, but as Lario went back right with his binoculars, he saw it:
“What is that…what is…”
Right in a depression: Lario could not be certain, but yes…a vehicle, a big vehicle. Lario focused better, trying to penetrate the wall of water pouring down from the sky, and yes…it was a turreted APC of some kind. It appeared like miles away, but Lario knew that with that visibility it could not be farther than half a kilometer. Then suddenly, a couple of lights appeared in the vicinity of the vehicle; some movement, Lario could not tell.

And it was decision time again: Approach or evacuate the area. Lario tried to focus his mind on the problem. He had to get closer, see better. If he could proceed with enough caution, the chances that he could be spotted would be slim, especially in that weather. The plan was to close the distance enough to be able to identify the contact, and to get the h*ll out of there if it was a hostile. He was sure that he would have found the extra energies to disengage stealthily if he really needed to, even if he had to collapse short after. He had a contact, he had to identify it. He decided to exploit to the maximum the difference in visibility between him and whoever was “camping” down there.

Lario put is backpack back on, and cautiously started to approach, pausing every 30 seconds or so to observe. Finally, when he was at approximately 250 meters, he stopped, went prone and gave the target another scan with his binoculars.

Lario Realized that he probably could be spotted as well now, even if his prone position and the weather favored him. He gave a good extra scan…

“C.mon…C’mon who are you? Show me who you are buddy!!

“... Go#@mnit…it’s a Dardo”.

At that distance other details became clear. The Dardo AIFV was located at the center of a defensive perimeter which included a pickup truck armed with a TOW antitank fitted in his bed, and a system of hastily dug in positions all around. Inside the perimeter, Lario also saw a circular enclosed fence with some horses, and several tents scattered randomly, including a big one built out of the Dardo’ back door.

Decision time again: chances of having come across elements of the Italian “COMFOD 1”: high.
Chances that it could be an American position with some captured Italian equipment: certainly possible
Chances that he was looking at some kind of illegitimate forces with captured Italian equipment: less likely.

Half aware that he was more wishfully thinking than actually examining his chances objectively, Lario decided to proceed and reveal himself.
According to the Italian Army SOPS for approaching friendlies, without a password, Lario stood up and began to walk with his arms wide open and holding his M16 barrel down.

At about 100 meters from the position, the over worried voice of a clearly surprised sentry froze Lario on his weels:
“Halt…you stoppp and make yorrrself reccognize”

Ah…ha…wrong language and syntax, but damn right accent Lario thought with a smile of relief.

“Sergente maggiore Vailatti...soldato…9° Reggimento Incursori Col. Moschin. Metto il fucile a terra ed aspetto. Non fare cazzate, e nessuno si fa male”, he said overempahsizing his Venice accent.

*Translation: Seargent Major Vailatti here soldier… 9th Raiders Regiment Col. Moschin. I am putting my rifle on the ground. Don’t do anything stupid and nobody gets hurt.

Continues…

Comments and criticism appreciated

Ambrafoxtrot

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 1: Friends… oh… Friends

After having given it a careful thought, Lario decided to probe the American line further north. With an ear to possible incoming dangers, he started to carefully move with direction north east for 4 – 5 kilometers and then converged northwest – west in order to debouch out of the wood, possibly at its northerner point. Lario’s plan was to venture into the hilly area between Nobelton and Lake Lindsey, and check the consistency of the American position at that latitude.

He proceeded carefully, trying not to feel the exhaustion from the firefight and from the march in the difficult terrain, in a weather that was going from bad to worse. After a two hours march, he found the limit of the wood and he was by then in full red light mode for exhaustion. On the bright side, there was no trace of living being around, no civilians, no military, no nothing. The abundant rain, which had become by then a severe shower, poured down with no mercy, making his journey even more miserable, every step made more difficult by the mud and by the extremely soft terrain. On the positive side, the inclement weather, the light conditions, and the morphology of the terrain made him almost invisible to anybody who was not specifically observing the location where he was walking.

The view of the hilly terrain in front of him past the limit of the wooded area made Lario mind and energies sink. But he could not stop. First of all he had to put more distance between him and the location of the firefight he had in the morning, and secondly he had to find a location with a minimum of shelter for his next break. Also, and even more discouraging, he would have to skip his afternoon foraging because of the heavy rain, and because of his physical status. He had to be careful about that, as more exhaustion led to more inactivity and to more exhaustion and so on and so forth: a very well known downward spiral in Special Forces long range operations. So Lario promised himself that he would draw from his strategic food reserve that night, but whatever happened, he would spend extra time resting and foraging the next day. He could not allow tactical exigencies endanger the whole strategy of his mission. His mission, he continued to repeat in his head, as he dragged one step after the other, was to probe the American lines and to link up with E.F. forces as soon as possible.

And then, once he marched out of the wooded area, he began to climb and descend, climb and descend hills of different size and altitude, none of them very steep, but each of them accumulating more fatigue on his exhausted legs and soul. By the time darkness began to blur the scene, Lario was barely able to compass navigate with a minimum of precision and he had completely abandoned the idea of walking behind the crest lines to minimize his visibility to third parties. It was simply too tired to worry about that. His only worry now was to find a gully or something, where to stop and rest with a minimum of “comfort”, make some hot tea, that he still have in his strategic reserves. At that point, he was not even certain anymore that he would have the energies to eat, but it was starting to become imperative that he found a convenient location to stop and spend the evening and the night.

Completely soaked from head to toe, despite his parka and his hood well tightened around his head and neck, Lario stopped on a crest line to make a 360 observation routine check; more to provide himself with an excuse to take a two minutes break than for a real necessity. He kneeled down, put down his backpack, and paused a moment to massage his sore and stiff shoulders. He extracted his binoculars and gave the horizon a sweep with it, first south and then more carefully, northwest to northeast; the view did not reveal anything encouraging: gray dim horizon, uniform brownish/green landscape, as the showery rain changed the apparent color of the grassland at that particular hour of pre sunset time of the day.

He did not see it on the left to right sweep, but as Lario went back right with his binoculars, he saw it:
“What is that…what is…”
Right in a depression: Lario could not be certain, but yes…a vehicle, a big vehicle. Lario focused better, trying to penetrate the wall of water pouring down from the sky, and yes…it was a turreted APC of some kind. It appeared like miles away, but Lario knew that with that visibility it could not be farther than half a kilometer. Then suddenly, a couple of lights appeared in the vicinity of the vehicle; some movement, Lario could not tell.

And it was decision time again: Approach or evacuate the area. Lario tried to focus his mind on the problem. He had to get closer, see better. If he could proceed with enough caution, the chances that he could be spotted would be slim, especially in that weather. The plan was to close the distance enough to be able to identify the contact, and to get the h*ll out of there if it was a hostile. He was sure that he would have found the extra energies to disengage stealthily if he really needed to, even if he had to collapse short after. He had a contact, he had to identify it. He decided to exploit to the maximum the difference in visibility between him and whoever was “camping” down there.

Lario put is backpack back on, and cautiously started to approach, pausing every 30 seconds or so to observe. Finally, when he was at approximately 250 meters, he stopped, went prone and gave the target another scan with his binoculars.

Lario Realized that he probably could be spotted as well now, even if his prone position and the weather favored him. He gave a good extra scan…

“C.mon…C’mon who are you? Show me who you are buddy!!

“... Go#@mnit…it’s a Dardo”.

At that distance other details became clear. The Dardo AIFV was located at the center of a defensive perimeter which included a pickup truck armed with a TOW antitank fitted in his bed, and a system of hastily dug in positions all around. Inside the perimeter, Lario also saw a circular enclosed fence with some horses, and several tents scattered randomly, including a big one built out of the Dardo’ back door.

Decision time again: chances of having come across elements of the Italian “COMFOD 1”: high.
Chances that it could be an American position with some captured Italian equipment: certainly possible
Chances that he was looking at some kind of illegitimate forces with captured Italian equipment: less likely.

Half aware that he was more wishfully thinking than actually examining his chances objectively, Lario decided to proceed and reveal himself.
According to the Italian Army SOPS for approaching friendlies, without a password, Lario stood up and began to walk with his arms wide open and holding his M16 barrel down.

At about 100 meters from the position, the over worried voice of a clearly surprised sentry froze Lario on his weels:
“Halt…you stoppp and make yorrrself reccognize”

Ah…ha…wrong language and syntax, but damn right accent Lario thought with a smile of relief.

“Sergente maggiore Vailatti...soldato…9° Reggimento Incursori Col. Moschin. Metto il fucile a terra ed aspetto. Non fare cazzate, e nessuno si fa male”, he said overempahsizing his Venice accent.

*Translation: Seargent Major Vailatti here soldier… 9th Raiders Regiment Col. Moschin. I am putting my rifle on the ground. Don’t do anything stupid and nobody gets hurt.

Continues…

Comments and criticism appreciated

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 2: 11th Battaglione Bersaglieri

As soon as Lario finished being checked in by the guard on duty, he was conducted to the center of the compound inside the tent which acted as a prolongation of the Dardo interior. There, two young soldiers, staring at him with a mix of apprehension and amazement, timidly informed him that he was required to leave his weapons in the tent before he could be introduced inside the AIFV. They were probably expected to be shot right there by that crazed man covered in mud and black camouflage. Instead, without a word, Lario put the safety on his M16 and informed the guards that the pistol had a chambered bullet and that it was jammed. One of the soldiers hesitantly took possession of the weaponry, looking at the camouflage paint on the M16 and to the customized Beretta 92 with awe. It was probably the first time in their life that they saw an operator of the 9th live, in all his “muddiness” and “after patrol misery”, and they seemed quite amazed with what they were looking at. Without any further formalities, Lario walked through the Dardo back door escorted by one of the soldiers.

“Signor Maggiore…this is Sergeant Vailatti of the Reggimento Incursori . He managed to regain our lines, according to what he said, after one month spent in enemy controlled territory.

“You can go private, thank you”.

“Yes Sir”; the soldier turned on his heels and left.

Standing on the attention, as much as the space allowed him, Lario looked at a man. He evaluated he was in his late thirties, probably around his same age. The hair half grey already, carefully combed with a impeccable line and kept scalp short in the back and on the sides, reminded Lario of a Prussian officer and made him wander how in the heck could that man maintain such a pristine appearance in the middle of a general war, and in the confined space of an AIFV rear compartment. Compared to the officer, Lario felt like a bag of trash just scooped out of a dumpster, stink at all, but he didn’t care. He was actually quite happy to be still alive. The Major’s uniform, was as impeccable as his hair style and Lario noticed that his face showed a note of genuine interest in Lario, as he observed him from behind green steady eyes.
Major Lorenzo De Gaetano moved his black gloves, which were characteristic of the Bersaglieri corps, on a side of the retractable desk he was sitting behind, and stood up, his right hand reaching out at Lario:

“At ease Vailatti, I have heard great things about the 9th here in America” Major De Gaetano paused as to study Vailatti more closely after having shaken his hand. “Tell me Sergeant, what was the mission of your section here in Florida”?

Lario hesitated for a second like if he wanted to investigate De Gaetano’s expression a little bit longer before answering. “We acted as a recon element to identify and possibly mark sensitive targets behind the enemy lines Sir…Headquarters, supply depots, mobile radars and other stuff like that Sir”.

“What happened to your team Sergeant”?

Lario’s expression turned dim, “Sir, I was patrol leader of a team of three. We had a contact with the enemy outside an Air force depot we were evaluating. We got surrounded before we could disengage. I am the only one who managed to escape alive. Both members of my patrol were killed in action”. Lario voices trembled slightly, while he looked expressionless right in front of himself.

“And where was that”?

“10 miles west of Orlando”

“Orlando”… the Major said thinking out loud. “You probably know that Orlando it is the main strategic objective of the Italian expedition corps right”?

“I know that Sir, that is why my operation axis was along that route”. Suddenly Lario remembered his last two weeks of operations, while the white of his eyes, surrounded by his blackened and muddy face almost disappeared in an expression of inquiry. “Sir I have seen an explosion over Tampa Bay…an atomic or nuclear explosion Sir…and then I lost communication with mission control at COMFOD probably due to the EMP”.

It was Major De Gaetano’s expression turn to get dark. “There has been more that one of those detonations Sergeant…for sure Tampa Bay Miami and Cape Canaveral have been hit, along with other economic and military objectives all over the United States”. De Gaetano turned his head in an expression of disgust. “I do not doubt that the Americans have launched as well, and I do not even know who attacked first and from where. We lost contact with COMFOD as well. The Brigade is dispersed in a large salient as for atomic alert SOPs. The detonations were tactical, but big enough to devastate entire cities if released as they were on populated areas. I can’t imagine the disaster caused to the civilian populations; I suspect that we will see the effects of all that very soon”.

At that moment, one of the two soldiers that had accompanied Lario to the AIFV, entered with a couple of hot milk and coffee cups, and the Major invited Lario to share with him. Lario did not need to be told twice as he could really use some restoring assets of that kind.

“At the moment of the Attack on Tampa bay” the Major continued after a long sip of his cappuccino, “the Ariete Armored brigade was the spearhead of the corps and my battalion was leading the brigade. At that time, the 4th Tank regiment had already taken a good beat from the Americans withdrawing from Hernando beach. Those damn Yankees did not give us mercy all along the exploitation movement out of the beaches. We moved to contact all the way here, but at a dear price. Just before the attacks, we had just relieved the 4th Tanks after which we advanced for two more days. Then all resupply and replacement ceased. We have been stuck here ever since, trying to economize fuel, ammo and supplies, and waiting for any further directives. COMFOD communication with National Authority must have been somehow severed, brigade is waiting for orders, we are waiting for orders, but no orders have been received yet. The exec directive to cut Florida west to east stands I guess, but the brigade lacks the fuel to reach the objective. We have no idea of the situation of the enemy either. The road to the Canaveral peninsula might be open, but we cannot progress logistically”.

Lario remained silent for a while, trying to soak in all the information the Major had given him. Then he answered: “Sir…I detoured south a lot in my way back here, so I don’t know anything about the American deployment east of here. But I can tell you that we have the enemy on the south east of this position. Again I don’t know the troop count, but I had a personal encounter with American infantry in the woods 10 kilometers east of Brooksville, and was again very lucky to make it out of there in one piece”.

“We know who they are” Major De Gaetano snapped back. “It’s the remnants of the 274th National Guard Brigade. They were stalking us and keeping our advance under observation. They don’t have the punch to come at us…I mean I would be happy if they did; we would cut them to pieces if they tried. But no… the Americans are not that stupid are they Sergeant? They are pretty strained an all fronts; here, on the East Coast, and west as well, where last news of the Chinese advance were very, very promising. We don’t know about the progresses of the Germans and the Russians on the East Coast, but given the scarce density of the American defenses on our front, I would have to assume that the Ivans and the Krauts were banging pretty hard on the Americans. We don’t have any details though, apart from the fact that the French and the Mexican offensive through the Gulf States were almost grinded to a halt”.

The Major paused again for quite a long time…and then finally added: “Tomorrow morning at 0700 I have a briefing with my officers. I will be thinking about how best I can use you before then and let you know my decisions. I will be glad to have you as well for the briefing, and I will introduce you to my unit commanders. Until then you are dismissed. Take a good rest; you really look like you need one”.

Major de Gaetano called one of the soldiers guarding the H.Q. tent and ordered him to assign one of the available tents to Lario, and to give him back his equipment and his weapons.

Lario thanked the commander and saluted by putting himself on the attention before turning away and leaving the vehicle. It would be his first meal and sleep under a decent shelter in weeks.

[cavtroop]

nice read. Very interesting background you've created here - I'm a big fan of alternate histories/backgrounds, and love reading what other people have come up with. Care to share any more information you have on this alternate history you're writing about?

[ambrafoxtrot]

cavtroop

I am glad you are enjoying the reading.

The story you are reading about is the fruit of a complex project; we call it the "GDW Bundle"

We are using Twilight 2000 in conjunction with Harpoon and part of the "campaign system" of Command Decision 2.0.

The core engine of the project is the above mentioned Command Decision Campaign system. In simple terms it is a system of "scale reduction" for strategic military operations. We stretched the system a little bit, so that we can compress strategic operation at the tactical level. We do that for land forces (Twilight 2000) and for air and naval forces (Harpoon). For interaction between Air/Naval elements and Land Elements, we still use Twilight 2000 rules (for example an A-10 attacking a platoon T-80 tanks).

Should anything "weird" appear on our fictional world, we would simulate it with GDW Dark Conspiracy, and should our fictional world drastically advance in technology (unlikely given the premises) with would call GDW Traveller New Era into play.

As for the alternate background development, it is a work in progress: we want to explore the consequences of an overly aggressive foreign policy by a radical U.S. administration, which triggers a balancing reaction by the other "advanced powers" in the mid nineties inspired by their own radical administrations. Internal dynamics in Europe split the already "risible" European Union into pro and against United States policies. In particular, a realignment of policy between major continental European powers and Russia, favors the rise of a counter pole to object The United States administration attempt to establish "The New American Century"

We start from the assumption (it is a postulate) that the bulk of the U.S. navy (carriers as main objectives) is mauled in a series of surprise raids by dedicated naval special forces against the American Ships in port, in all their bases in continental U.S. and overseas. This necessary abstract premise is designed t allow the combined Euro Naval forces to dispute the command of the sea to the remaining American vessels. Without this "premise" the entire background would be impossible; nobody can confront an intact American Navy.

After that an invasion of Continental U.S. becomes feasible, if the invasion forces can be supplied. At this point China, Mexico and minor central and southern American states join the bad guys.

Summing up, from a role gaming standpoint, we are going to explore military operations in the territory of the Unites States of America, but not only. We are also going to explore operations other than war, based on the aftermath of a nuclear scenario similar to the one depicted in the original Twilight 2000 background. We are going to have an inner look at the relationship between the American population and its unique cultural background and these hypothetical foreign invasion forces. The details will be created of course as the story progresses.

I hope I managed to answer you questions

greetings

ambrafoxtrot

[cavtroop]

That sounds awesome. is this an on-going project, or something that's done that you're now writing up?

Either way, keep us posted, love to hear more about this...

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 3: war council

The following morning Lario was awakened by his internal clock around 0600. First thing he noticed was that it wasn’t raining any more. He peeked out of his tent, to observe a heavily overcast sky in the dark early morning. Lario took a walk to the encampment improvised “bathing” area, where he tried to make himself at least presentable for the morning briefing that Major De Gaetano was supposed to give. Fortunately the previous day’s rain had made water a fairly item for a while at least. He looked around, noticing the dismounting guards quickly getting into their tents or vehicles for their sleeping shift, and the various activities in preparation for the day. He consumed a decent breakfast based hot milk prepared on his camp heater, coffee accompanied by one of his last packages of stale cookies in his food reserve, and then prepared himself for the briefing.

By the time he was ready, it was almost daylight and he could observe the details of the position; a standard defense circle built around the Dardo strongpoint and the Pickup truck anti tank nest. He noticed that the pickup was one of those American huge trucks and undoubtedly looked brand new. Hastily dug in trenches hosted light machineguns nests, and a circular pad almost in the middle of the installation, contained an 81mm mortar at the moment unmanned. The Dardo light tank was well positioned on a slight terrain elevation and his 25mm autogun and its MGs had a good field of fire all around. Offset from the center of the installation there was the enclosed fence Lario saw the day before with a bunch of horses guarded by a couple of soldiers.

After his short inspection of the security of the camp, Lario headed towards the Dardo where Major De Gaetano morning briefing was supposed to begin soon. The two guards at the entrance of the tent saluted him cordially and he entered the tent hoping not to be late. He immediately realized he was not, as the tent was occupied only by two men: a lieutenant and a major sergeant. The lieutenant was spread on a chair and did barely respond to Lario’s salute by telling him to make himself comfortable, and that the old man would be there soon. As for the Sergeant, at least he had the decency of introducing himself. “Sergente Giunta” he said. “I am the commander of the cavalry squadron”. He then sat back on a barrel that he used as a chair. Lario did not have a problem with the cold welcome of the two men, and simply sat on the ground with his backpack between his legs.

The three did not have to wait very long before Major De Gaetano accompanied by a Captain entered in the tent. Sergeant Giunta stood up and saluted the two officers reluctantly, followed by the Lieutenant who clearly was not a happy man.

“Gentlemen” Major De Gaetano began. “I see that you had the opportunity to meet Sergeant Vailatti from the Raider Regiment. He is going to be attached to the battalion for a while and he will be directly under my command, unless detached to any sub units. Like promised, today we are going to discuss about our course of action. Captain Liuzzi, please would you like to recap our present situation for Sergeant Vailatti?

Captain Liuzzi nodded and opened a rolled down a map of the area of operation of COMFOD 1.
“Gentlemen…our situation in the last week is substantially unchanged. The battalion maintains its positions in the eastward portion of the Brooksville salient. We are currently waiting for orders from Brigade HQ about the resuming of the advance eastwards. As you know, our logistic situation does not allow to immediately restarting operations, and Brigade is fully aware of that. In fact, in the lack of more precise orders from COMFOD, our command issued the directive to all units to maintain the positions and to reorganize while we wait for replacements and resupply. This however is old news”.

Captain Liuzzi crossed eyes with the lieutenant looking at him with a very perplexed expression.

“Major De Gaetano and I” continued the Captain, “have conceived an operation that is designed to relieve our situation and to enhance our operational awareness, compatibly with our present unstable position. As you all know, we did not have much of an intelligence report on the general situation since the detonation of nuclear weapons has happened on our theater of operation. Probably COMFOD is still trying to put together all the pieces before deciding on a definite course of action. This has left us in the dark for quite a long time”

The Captain paused to give the time to the listeners to soak in the information.

“Gentlemen”: Captain Liuzzi turned a transparent sheet on the wall map he had on a wooden stand.
“This is operation TORCIA (Flashlight), and it is conceived to give us a minimum of information on what is going on around us, in anticipation of the orders that we will receive from Brigade HQ. The arrival of Sergeant Vailatti is especially welcome in this moment as he will for sure represent a useful asset for this operation”.

Lario observed the map with a series of blue arrows extending south and east of the battalion position, with a series of phase lines and unit designations.

Captain Liuzzi continued: “we plan to develop recon missions based on the most mobile of our units, maintaining at the same time the bulk of the battalion defense centered on the Mechanized infantry assets. Elements of Sgt. Rena recon platoon minus the anti tank section, will perform an armed reconnaissance in direction of Tampa Bay, to investigate the situation in the area. This force will be commanded by Sergeant Vailatti.

Captain Liuzzi tapped with a ruler on the map.

“The direction of the advance will be along State Highway 93, and will have the village of Wesley Chapel as intermediate point”.

Liuzzi turned his head towards Sergeant Giunta.

“Light elements of Sgt. Giunta cavalry squadron, will hit county road 476 with objective the village of Nobleton, and if situation allow, they will proceed through the swampy area west of Orlando. If no resistance is encountered, the final objective is the outskirts of Orlando itself. We need to know what the enemy situation is along that axis, so that we can plan properly when the final advance order will come from Brigade HQ”.

Captain Liuzzi turned another transparent sheet on the map.

“We know for sure that the 274th Florida National Guard Brigade is positioned on the axis of advance of Sgt. Renna force. If this enemy unit discovers the movement and acts to counter it, the order is to disengage and come back home; we do not want any major engagement with the enemy at the moment. Brigade did not authorize it. The same restriction applies to Sgt. Giunta detachment, with the difference that we know nothing about possible enemy units east of us”.

Liuzzi looked at Major De Gaetano to indicate that he terminated his briefing.

“Gentlemen” De Gaetano intervened, “these two missions are extremely important for us. Like Lieutenant Lerner has suggested some days ago”, the Major gave a stare to the Lieutenant who had listened to the entire briefing in complete silence, “we need to generate some activity. Our logistic situation becomes worse every day, and we need to do something. The recon forces are tasked with two precise objectives: first, finding any possible sources of sustainment for the battalion, even a provisional one; and second provide us with information about the operational situation on the territory that surrounds us”.

“With that said” continued De Gaetano; these are reconnaissance missions will be conducted by light forces. They are, however, going to put a big dent in our stockpile of fuel, and grain. The hope is that the recon parties can find some kind of supply source that justifies the investment. Preservation of force is vital to both missions. Do not engage or let the enemy engage you, unless you enjoy tactical and numerical superiority”

Then De Gaetano looked at Lario and at Sgt. Giunta.

“Sergeant Vailatti, you will command the southern recon force. Touch base with Sgt. Rena, the commander of the recon platoon. Have him help you choose the best men for the mission. You have all day to prepare the operation. I also leave to you to decide if you want to include a vehicle in your force or not. I have of course total trust in your skills in preparing and conducting a mission of this kind. You do not need to report to me again. Just plan and execute your mission; reports and debriefings are postponed to when you come back”.

“Sergeant Giunta, the same applies to you. Your mission is exactly what you have been trained for. Explore and report. It’s a long range mission. Do not get caught behind the enemy lines, if there is any enemy east of here, and do not get any of your men killed”.

Lieutenant Lerner, who did not move a muscle during the entire briefing, suddenly broke into the commander monologue.

“These missions are a bullock Major. You will get the battalion crippled, your combat force diminished, and you will not have improved our situation by an inch”.

Lario turned to Lerner horrified; then he looked at Major De Gaetano. He expected to have to draw his pistol, which he finally managed to fix before sleep the night before, and shoot the Lieutenant. Insubordination in time of war ensued death penalty on the spot may be after a summary court martial if the commanding officer felt generous that day.

Instead, Major De Gaetano looked at Lerner with a resigned expression.

“What do you suggest instead, Sir Lerner of Augusta, may be you want to go all the way back and bring your complaints to COMFOD, or may be to Rome”?

Lerner looked at the Major, making no effort to conceal his disgust. “COMFOD is in the dark exactly like we are Major, and as far as we know, we might be the last efficient force existing in the Brooksville salient. And Rome might be a pile of radioactive junk by now. You continue to give briefings, and to think like if there were still normal operations going on…sir, but I think that you did not understand that this war has gone through dramatic changes. Why do you think the Americans are not harassing us anymore? Well I’ll tell you why. They are clueless, like we are. There has been a generalized nuclear exchange Major, even though for some reasons with intermediate weaponry instead of strategic ones. We are still alive for two reasons: one; the attacks were counterstrike and not counter forces. And two, thanks God, we are in the middle of this s%$#ty swamp that they call Florida and the detonations did not involve us directly”.

The Lieutenant paused to take his breath, and then looked at all the presents.

“We have to bring the entire battalion to a port; this is what to have to do. The entire battalion, I say. We have to avoid splitting our forces and having them overwhelmed piecemeal. If the attacks that have taken place here, have been replicated all over this Go&%$#ed United States, we will soon see the effect of that. It will be general chaos, we will be eaten alive by the locals, civilian and not. We don’t have any supply, scarce ammunition, almost no medical supplies. Tampa Bay was supposed to become our supply port. I say let’s go there with the entire battalion and see what the situation is. May be there are still some ships going out of here. In that case we embark the personnel and get the h%$ll out of here. If Tampa is barren, like it might very well be, then we will seize all the supply we can, and head to Miami. See if the Russians still have a base of operation there, and if the port is still open. Whatever we do, we have to keep our forces together. It’s the only way to have a shot at surviving in this mess”.

De Gaetano left the tent and went into his command Dardo without answering to Lerner. Captain Liuzzi, limited himself to stare at Lieutenant Lerner for a while; then he snapped: “Lieutenant. I don’t care what your name is, where you are from or what the color of your family barony emblem is. I told you many times that we are not in the Rome officers circle here, but in the middle of a war. You will follow the orders that you are given, and without discussing them. I am tired of your insubordinate behavior. If you think you are a brilliant strategist, you can get out of here, and go wherever you want. I won’t even file a report for desertion that can stain the spotless military tradition of your family; I am pretty sure I can find someone else capable of commanding your unit. On the other hand, I can guarantee you that I will personally shoot you in the head at the next act of insubordination of yours and then gladly fill a report of friendly fire accident for the overall command”.

Liuzzi looked intensely at Lieutenant Lerner to see if his words actually soaked in. The he concluded: “I believe you have duties to fulfill today Mr. Lerner. You are dismissed. Focus your energies on the management of your company, for as long as you have one

Lerner gave a prolonged meditative stare at his superior. Then he went on the attention with a slight bow in the manner of the cavalry, and without a word he turned around and left.

Liuzzi looked at Lario: “go prepare your men sergeant. We are very glad that you made it here in one piece. We really count on your expertise in conducting an operation like the one you have been assigned to. We’ll meet again just before you are ready to go”.

Continues…

[ambrafoxtrot]

cavtroop

it is an ongoing campaign. we are one session ahead of the written story.

[ambrafoxtrot]

Some graphical update about the story:

1 st picture
Lario and his original patrol (Florida Dec 1999) at the beginning of the operations

2nd Picture
Captain Liuzzi (white arrow) and boys from the cavalry platoon (Florida 2000)
(covered face soldier: element of the intelligence service)

[RN7]

Hi Ambrafoxtrot nice read.

I presume the senario is invasion of the continental US by an alliance of Italian, French, German, Russian, Chinese, Mexican and Cuban forces with the Brits still on the side of the US. A sort of grand alliance of EU/Russian/Chinese & Central Americans against the English speaking world.

Can you expand things a bit. How did this come about? What's going on in the Middle East, Asia and the rest of Europe? I presume Australia, Canada and NZ are on the US/British side. What about Japan, India, South Korea and Israel?

[ambrafoxtrot]

RN7

Glad you like the read.
The details will be uncovered as the story proceeds. For the premises and role gaming purposes of the story, see my answer to cavtroop above.

greetings

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 4: The Terror of the Game

The rest of the day was more than sufficient for Lario to plan his mission. First thing he went to visit the recon platoon quarters, where he was received by Sergeant Dario Rena. Rena was not a new face for Lario, who had met him In Pisa during the brief period he served as an assistant instructor at the Airborne troops school.

Rena, Lario thought, had not changed a bit since then. A military career was the thing he wanted more than anything else, and he could not get it. He was expelled from the Modena Military Academy in his third year, after having hit an officer who went too far in bugging him with courtesy regulations. In one single day he lost both his hopes to be an officer, and a paratrooper, like his father and grandfather before him. The latter had been a captain of the glorious “Folgore” Parachute Division that taught some lessons in light infantry tactics to the 44th English Divisions and to a regiment of the French Foreign Legion at El Alamein in October 1942.

After his misadventure in Modena, Rena barely managed to remain in the army, thank to his state of service. He was redirected to the cavalry, on a death track that saw him advance as far as section commander in the antitank troop of a recon Battalion. When his unit was ambushed out of Hernando beach by element of an American cavalry regiment, and almost slaughtered in a furious engagement, his platoon was reassigned to the 11th Bersaglieri battalion and tasked both with recon and antitank duties.

“Vailatti…I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you again” Rena addressed Lario as soon as he saw him reporting to his Platoon HQ. “I hear you are here to take command of my men”.

“Not exactly Rena” retorted Lario with a half smile: “I am actually taking command of one of your men only. But I need the best guy you’ve got. Do we have a deal”?

Rena gave Lario a “what are you up to, look”.
“What is the nature of the mission”?

“Observation point”

“I see…I’ll give you Private Goia. He’s got the best pair of eyes in the entire platoon and he is a quiet sneaky son of a bitch. I wouldn’t define him a ferocious warrior but he can hold his own in combat”

“One more thing Dario…” said Vailatti looking Rena straight in the eyes; “I will need your vehicle. I have been thinking about going out on foot, but the distance is considerable. I am supposed to stretch out as far as Tampa bay outskirts if possible, and I have only got five days to be back here. Not a chance to make it dismounted.

“I don’t recommend that. You’ll be damn visible with the blue pickup we have scavenged in Timber Pines after the first encounter with the enemy”.

Lario paused for a moment considering options. “We’ll cover it in mud and branches and see if it can go like that. How’s the fuel”?

“Not even half a tank, it’ll carry you for may be 150 kilometers, then you are on foot”.

“Will have to be enough; then again we might get lucky and find some fuel along the way”.

Rena gave a prolonged stare at Lario.

“Look big special forces man” he said with a tad of resentment; “bring my vehicle and my soldier back in one piece, or I will have to kill you; is that understood”?

Lario simply stood up, not too much impressed: “Introduce me to this Goia guy, and he’s better be as good as you say, or I will have to kill YOU”.

The two NCO’s walked to a set of tents behind the parked Chevrolet pickup.

“Goia…come here quick” Rena yelled as they approach the “rooms”.

A soldier intent to clean his assault rifle, turned over, stood up and trotted towards the two men approaching. He stood on the attention when he reached Rena and Lario, and saluted them.

“At ease Davide; this is Sergeant Major Vailatti of the Col. Moschin Regiment. He will brief you on a mission that you are going to undertake at his orders. I leave you with him”. Then he turned towards Lario, and gave him the perfect military salute;

“Let me know if I can do anything more for you Sir” he said to Lario.

Lario simply reached out with his hand and smiled at Rena. “We will have fun. A smooth little data collection. It will be a nice little vacation”.

By the end of the day, Lario and Goia had all the details of their excursion figured out; routes timings, and reasonable contingencies. They would travel west to the Lake Lindsey main crossroad, and then they would turn south on highway 41 in direction of Brooksville. The entire itinerary was supposed to be in the brigade rear area and thus, at least in theory, secure.

The following morning, Lario and private Goia were in full gear and ready to go. They looked exactly like a LRRP patrol should look: two big backpacks which just happened to have two little men, in black painted faces carrying them, weaponry casually hanging down as secondary appendices; and even though for that particular mission the backpack would soon find some space in the rear seats of the vehicle cabin, that did not necessarily make the expression of the two men less miserable. Major De Gaetano approached them as they checked their equipment for one last time before leaving.

“In five days from now, we will still be here, Vailatti” said the Major with a warm smile. “And in the remote case we are not, I will leave orders for you buried with a cache of ammunition exactly where the Dardo is located now. Be careful, do not run unnecessary risks, and remember the purpose of your mission; your patrol is going to be the southern eyes and ears of the battalion. Let us know what is going on. I am especially interested in the conditions of Tampa and surroundings.

Lario and Goia saluted on the attention, then embarked on the pickup and departed.

For a change, Lario found himself driving in pleasant and even warm morning with a big shiny sun rising over the horizon. If it was not for the deserted landscape, Lario could have thought he was on a nice trip in the country. Some of the farms along the highway appeared damaged, some very badly, in those particular areas where the Americans had set Antitank of machinegun nests during the Italian advance past Brooksville. Other signs of battle were visible, in the form of burned vegetation and terrain, especially near the artillery craters still filled with water. Occasional clusters of destroyed combat vehicles, most of them completely burnt out, littered the countryside, indicating the points of major resistance that the Ariete Armored brigade had encountered during its advance east.

“How did you get in the special forces” asked Goia while Lario was about to turn to get on highway 41.

“I won the European high school marathon two years in a row” Lario answered with a smile, keeping his eyes on the road. “1979 and 1980;” Lario dreamed out loud” I won by a large margin in the second year”.

Goia looked at Lario to signal him that he wanted to hear more. Lario briefly turned towards him, and seeing his inquiring expression, continued:

“I wanted to be a professional athlete. I was a tall skinny guy; kind of the perfect structure for a long distance runner. Then in ’81 came the conscription medical visit, and the captain cardiologist that screened me, said I had a horse heart, and that was the reason why I won the marathons.

“And you joined the Army as a volunteer” said Goia with an amused smile.

“Well, you know, I was given the speech about how the armed forces needed men with my potential, and they gave me the entire patriotic crap story. I signed, and was dispatched to the Parachute Brigade. Four years I spent there; then I went to the 9th for further training”.

Lario’s smile became bigger as he continued to talk.

“I still remember how I could outrun all the instructors. Boy that was fun; great times. I also started to develop a knack for basic infantry combat. I proceeded to systematically fail all the IQ tests that the regiment submitted me to, but I worked well in team, worked well by myself, and they kept me”.

Lario paused, as he gave a circular look from right to left, to the landscape that was becoming worse as they proceeded west: more signs of devastation now, punctuated by the occasional civilian vehicle abandoned along road, some burnt out, or still with corpses on board.

Approaching the outskirts of Brooksville, the road sudden went uphill. According to the map, that was the last hill before the road would gradually descend into the town.
On the top of the hill, the view extended for several kilometers down in the small valley were Brooksville was located. And that view, Lario thought, was not good at all.

The first thing that a Lario and Goia eyes recorded was a scene of devastation: fires fiercely burning on various sections of the town, smoke all over it and confused activity going on all around. A couple of CARABINIERI helicopters circled around in their black and white paint, their bellies clearly visible in the morning sun. Military vehicles, many of them belonging to the CARABINIERI as well, moved in and out of the town in a confused carousel that did not suggest anything good.

Lario instinctively slowed down approaching the downhill part of the road heading into town. A defense line manned by the military was visible between them and the town, and it looked like it was facing the town itself. As Lario and Goia approached the line, the details become clearer. A big tank truck and a wagon, like a wagon towed by horses, but without horses, were placed at the two sides of the road. Lario blood froze when he focused his attention on the wagon, and saw an MG 42/59 on it, its crew pointing the weapon directly at him. At the same time, on the left side, a soldier appeared from behind the tanker and signaled them to stop, his assault rifle on the ready and, Lario noticed, several others rifles leveled on his vehicle approaching the roadblock.

Without hesitation, Lario slowed down to a crawl, until he came to a complete stop once he got close to the soldier who came out from behind the tanker. The soldier approached Lario’s side window and started in English: “Town closed, you turn…” then he saw Lario’s uniform and the passenger in the pickup and quickly switched to his native Italian language.

“You guys from the frontline?”

“What the h$ll is going on here” asked Lario.

The army corporal gave Lario a disoriented look, bloodshot eyes in a smoke covered face. “Sir, are you kidding me? Are you guys all they sent as reinforcements”?

“We are on a recon mission Corporal; we are from the 11th Bersaglieri Battalion, Ariete Brigade. I ask you again son: what is going on here”.

The corporal licked his lips and looked down at the town chaos, then turned at Lario again.

“Sir, we have a huge mass of people coming from Tampa Bay devastated area. Tampa is a burning furnace. Two nuclear weapons have been released on it. Tampa and S. Petersburg downtown areas ain’t no more. Whatever is left of the population is overflowing the countryside, crazy for food, water and shelter. COMFOD dispatched a battalion of CARABINIERI here, the last operative battalion for crowd control. They are trying” said the corporal almost with tears in his eyes, “but they are slowly losing the battle. Whatever is left of the rear COMFOD support troops is manning this line between the town and our front line troops. The order, if the mob overwhelms the CARABINIERI containment cordon, is to shoot. Do you understand Sir? We have been ordered to open fire on the civilians if things fall apart”.

Lario looked down the valley, and then looked back at the corporal.

“What unit do you belong to, corporal?”

“79th Logistic battalion, COMFOD overall command Sir”

“And you have been assigned to guard the main road north”?

“Yes Sir, all the front line troops are committed. Apart from the CARABINIERI battalion, there is nothing left to contain the apocalypse that hit the population”.

“What about the local authorities”?

“As far as I know, Tampa Bay police department was wiped out with the rest of the population. Before the exodus began, I think that COMFOD tried to establish communication with the American National Guard Florida and with elements of the American 82nd Airborne division, which were believed to be in transit from Tallahassee to cut our supply line east. COMFOD wanted to organize a truce to deal with this tragedy, but then communications went down and nothing could be done. At COMFOD they believe that the entire United States have been attacked with nuclear weapons. According to the rumors, Florida has been one of the less damaged states: Tampa, Miami, Canaveral, and Jacksonville have all been hit with intermediate warheads. Other parts of the country have been hit more heavily, they say. COMFOD managed to make sporadic contact with some French coming east from Mobile, may be by ship. I do not know what the outcome of that has been”.

Lario took some moments to process all the information, then he looked the corporal right in his scared eyes.

“Listen carefully son” he said with a compassionate look. “We were supposed to recon as far as Tampa Bay, but I have the impression that our mission will not proceed beyond here. We are now going to go past your check point to Brooksville”
…Lario paused and gave another look at the chaos in front of him.

“We are going to go down there and collect all possible details of what it’s going on. We need to report back as soon as possible to our command, to update them about the situation. I have the impression that the chain of command has completely collapsed, and what you told me unfortunately confirms this fear of mine”.

“How about you stay here with us Sir? We have no command here, and if the mob breaks the CARABINIERI ring, I really don’t know what to do Sir” the logistic corporal was now looking at Lario with a desperate expression.
“I would stay with you if I could corporal. But my orders say otherwise. You continue to do what you have done so far, and you will be doing well. Don’t worry”, Lario said to try and calm him down; “the CARABINIERI are super though; they will not let go. Meanwhile COMFOD should be able to envision a viable line of action. We have to believe son, and do the best we can. Do you have any fuel in that tanker?” Lario finally asked.

“Yes Sir, it’s one of the last tankers in the entire Army Corps. We were supposed to refuel the front line troops and then distribute the rest to the civilians. There is no way that we could resupply the corps twice, so our orders were to help the civilians out of here. Apparently there are not a lot of places where to go anyway and besides, we got stuck in this emergency and we couldn’t even complete our trip to refuel the combat units”.

“Well” said Lario, “you have a chance to do it now. Order your men to fill my vehicle before we get down there. There is a chance that we might have to run back up here in a hurry, and not necessarily using the road.

After they left the outer ring line, Lario and Goia proceeded south along the road. Goia, who didn’t say a word during the entire time Lario conferred with the logistic corporal, finally said:

“What exactly do you have in mind now Sir?”

Lario did not turn his head, while he slowly continued to approach Brooksville.

“We get down there, collect any possible information and we go back to battalion; this is what I have in mind. We need to know if this situation can be contained, because if it cannot… well it is my impression that the entire brigade is screwed”.

As they approached the town, descending from the hill, they lost perspective on the general situation, but they acquired details about the portion of the military cordon they were approaching. After Lario drove the pickup past the first buildings he immediately spotted a platoon of motorized CARABINIERI guarding the route. A lieutenant in full antiriot gear run towards them as both Lario and Goia opened their doors and came out of the vehicle.

“Who are you and what are you doing here” the Lieutenant approached Lario brusquely.

“Sergeant Vailatti 9th Col Moschin; and this is Private Goia, 11th Bersaglieri. We came from Nobleton, frontline east. We heard about the situation from the troops that are manning the outer ring. Our original mission was to scout and refer to our command. We didn’t expect to run into trouble that soon”.

The Lieutenant looked at Lario’s shoulder patch. The Parachute and the Gladium with the number 9 on it always commanded a certain amount of respect to anybody in the military. He just let go a bit of his rudeness and continued: “we are responsible for crowd control in sector five, the north eastern arc of the containment ring. One of my sections was overwhelmed and massacred just a few blocks south of here yesterday night. I do not have the strength to form a coherent line anymore. I am loosely dispatching teams to plug the gap. I am almost out of men even to do just that though. If you want”… the Lieutenant looked at Lario with a steady expression… “I could use you two to form a manipolo and send you down there. In this sector the mission is now to try and prevent the town folks to be massacred by their city countrymen coming from Tampa and Petersburg. Maintaining the containment ring is now secondary. If you are willing to help, CARABINIERE Mancuso here can join you to form a manipolo of three. I’ll give you an armored van and you can go ahead and patrol the area. That would also give you a chance to collect all the information you need for your command”.

The Lieutenant looked on his left at the smoke, the fire, and the screaming coming from his area of responsibility. The ballistic visor of his helmet up, he turned at Lario once again and waited.

Lario looked at Goia, paused for a second: then turned back at the Lieutenant.

“Give me some equipment and that spare man you were talking about. You’ve got yourself an extra team of bouncers for this morning”.

“Mancuso” the Lieutenant yelled to a private that was guarding a vehicle…”Call Giuffre’; I’m giving you guys that VM and two guys from the army here. Giuffre’ will be driving the VM.
You are under command of Sergeant…” the Lieutenant paused and looked at Lario’s name tag.

“Vailatti” said Lario looking back at the officer.
“You are under the command of Sergeant Vailatti. Sweep up sector five: one single sweep, just to keep the crowd calm, and then rush back right here”

The Lieutenant looked back at Vailatti’

“Sergeant, bring me back my equipment and my personnel in one piece and…thank you very much for your help”.

That said, the officer turned around and walked to a man that was carrying a big vehicular radio on his back.

“Ok gentlemen” Lario said to the two CARABINIERI manning the armored VM vehicle.
“Let’s get this straight. You know the situation on the terrain, so you will be directing us to the points you believe are more critical. I will issue orders only if we get involved into something, but until then, the direction of the mission is to you Giuffre’.

“Yes Sir, answered the young CARABINIERE. Please get in the back of the Van and arm yourself. We don’t have much left to tell you the truth: the water cannon vehicles are gone, the supply of tear gas is gone. We’re doing it the old way: club, shield and guts”.

Lario and Goia climbed in the back of the VM and started to gear up. Both decided to leave their Kevlar helmets on, Lario and Goia picked up shields and clubs from the vehicle racks and left their assault rifles and grenades in it. Lario thought for a second, and then decided to keep his sidearm.

Giuffre’ drove the VM through ghost downtown Brooksville, with Lario sticking his head out of one of the roof hatches. He put on his goggles to avoid the effect of the dense smoke and dust. Sector five was an abandoned and devastated area, were there was no cordon in place any more. Loose patrols of CARABINIERI, mounted or on foot, were all was left to contain the disaster.

The street Giuffre’ was driving on was practically desert, until he turned left to a particular crossroad. All of a sudden Lario spotted action going on in a front yard. Two young men were beating to death a more aged fellow who was down, probably already unconscious since he did not even try to protect himself anymore.

“Stooop right here” Lario shouted to the driver.
“Team dismounts here. Let’s disperse those goons over there. Giuffre’, as soon as we are out, you continue to drive around here. Do not stop the vehicle for any reason and keep coming back every two minutes or so to check on us. DO NOT LET THE VEHICLE FALL IN THE HANDS OF ANYBODY; it is full of military weaponry. Did you get than son”?

“Yes Sir”, answered the young CARABINIERE; “I’ll circle around and check on you guys every two minutes”. He repeated.

Lario opened the back door of the VM and jumped down in the smoke and the rubbles. He didn’t even turn to check if his team was following him. A weak but steady wind was moving smoke and yellow dust west to east as Lario run towards his objective.

As the two men realized that a team of soldiers was getting at them, they let go of their prey. One of them panicked and started run toward the house the front yard belonged to, while the second one, a though guy, faced the approaching team with a club in his hand.

“C’mon you dago bastards; C’mon, show me what you’ve got”, the goon said swinging his club

Lario could not understand what the man was saying and wasn’t interested in that either. When he was ten yards from him, he slowed his run into a trot and readied his riot club in a lower position. With a single steady movement from low to high Lario impacted the club on the man solar plexus and even heard the crack of the rib cage giving up from the blow. The thug fell on the ground with a gurgling sound, clearly incapacitated by the devastating blow inflicted by Lario.

For a brief moment, the manipolo stopped to check on the original victim of the assault; a man that could have been in his forties, completely covered in blood flowing from no less than five wounds on his head, arms and body. An unnatural posture of his left leg, also suggested a probable compound fracture. The man needed stabilized and Lario, who had brought some of his first aid kits with him was about to do exactly that.

Then, a terrifying woman scream coming from inside the house, made Mancuso and Goia turn at once towards the front door. Another scream, from a different woman, followed the first one soon after that. Noises of crushed furniture also came from the house and Lario decided to momentarily leave the wounded civilian to go and check the apparently more urgent situation.

“That sun of a bitch that fled from us must have stormed the house instead of getting lost when he had a chance”…said Lario… “There are more civilians in the house guys”!

“We go check it out boss” said Goia. It was the first time that the recon platoon private called him that way; a new tone of even higher respect clearly noticeable in his voice.

“No way” shouted Lario. “We stick together. The team moves together or not at all. Reform the manipolo and let’s go get those women”.

Lario, Mancuso and Goia stormed the house, as more screams and noise came out of it. As they rushed through the front door, they immediately realized they walked into trouble.

No less than four thugs were busy on the women, beating them as they tried to resist the attempt to be raped. Two of the four goons were holding down and beating on the almost naked victims; a teenage girl and a woman. The other two thugs, their pants down, were doing their business on them. The screams of the two ladies, and their faces covered in blood, froze Lario and his team in place.

Before Lario could give any further order or initiate any actions, more crazed up savages, from lateral rooms, poured at the team; no less than ten, eleven guys charged at them with fanatic rage. At the same time, the four that were on the women, tried to get their pants back on, and to take action as well.

“Form the MANIPOLO” shouted Lario trying to make his voice heard above the general fracas inside the house.

Lario knew right there that they were in trouble. They’d got themselves in a situation that all anti-riot training schools considered one to be avoided at all costs: stuck in a semi enclosed space, stormed from multiple sides by a vastly superior force, the only points in favor of the team being that none of the goons seemed to be armed, and that all units of the Italian army receive at least basic training in anti-riot.

Lario managed to set up the basic fighting formation in crowd control operation; a fortified group (MANIPOLO) of at least three soldiers, each facing out in a different direction, using their shields as walls of the fortress and their clubs to keep the aggressors in check.

Since the very beginning Lario had perceived that this was no ordinary crowd though. These guys were a group of mindless savages that could not be intimidated or discouraged.

A human wave of 10 thugs threw itself at the MANIPOLO from 2 different directions. By pure chance, Lario was the less involved character in the action in the early stage. Mancuso sustained the charge of no less than three goons, while Goia tried to keep another couple of them at bay. Many of the assaulters impeded each other movement, and were easily repelled by the shields and the clubs of Goia and Mancuso; but a couple of blows managed to go through, and Mancuso had his right arm trauma protection plate shattered, and his arm hurt by multiple blows. Many of the aggressors did not even try to strike at the soldiers; they just dove on the group in the attempt to grapple them, tackling them down, deprive them from their protections and kill them.

At first, the steadier reaction came from Lario, who found himself on the less exposed side. He saw a flash of one of the most aggressive savages reaching for Mancuso helmet, and he thrust his club right in his stomach. A spur of saliva came out of the goon mouth. He went down with a grunt and stopped moving.

Immediately after that, things started to go south for the manipolo: thugs falling down and trying to stand up again, confused mass of arms legs, and clubs rotating in the air and on the ground.
In an attempt to parry a particularly vicious blow, Goia lose his shield and got hit hard on a leg. He kneeled down in pain, trying to continue to maneuver his club to defend himself. On his own side Mancuso faced no less than four enemies, who were trying to force him down and go from there. He barely managed not to get tangled, but he had to give up any attempt to strike back at the bad guys. Only Lario, who still enjoyed more freedom of movements than his companions, managed to put down another thug, with a thrust of his club: with blood squirting from his face, the ugly guy went down in a world of pain and shock.

And then Lario made what probably was a bad mistake: as he saw some of the crazies trying to take off with the women through the other side of the house, he tried to extricate himself from the melee and get to them. Not only he failed to do so, momentarily falling down and losing control of the situation, but more importantly, he compromised for some vital seconds the tactical integrity of the manipolo, offering an open spot for the crazies to focus their attack on. For one more moment Goia managed to keep the assault at bay by downing one more bad guy with his club, but then Mancuso got finally forced down by two enemies who managed to grapple and immobilize him. With one side of the manipolo collapsing, the gang finally managed to get at Lario as well. One of them managed to grapple him, before he could do anything with his club.

Rapidly Lario felt that things were starting to fall apart, as he looked down at Mancuso and saw him without helmet, two crazed beating on him. He turned his head towards Goia and saw him down too, even though he was still fighting and struggling.

Lario did not wait any more. He dropped his club and extracted his handgun. He put the barrel on the head of the thug that was struggling with him and squeezed the trigger. The guy head exploded like a melon spreading blood and brain all over the fighting bubble of men. New target: Lario hit him right in the face, with similar result as the first shot. He managed to blow a third guy leg, before he noticed with horror that the remaining geeks, would not hesitate or retreat, despite the carnage. On the contrary, they doubled their effort to get a hold of the “heroes” and kill them all. At the same time, Lario noticed that the women and their assaulters were by now gone and nowhere to be seen any more. Again, Lario looked at his mates; Mancuso down with people beating him unconscious, and Goia still weakly reacting to the repeated and prolonged assaults of more and more enraged thugs.

With the force of desperation, Lario raised his Beretta once more, and opened a hole in another leg, before being hit on the arm that held the pistol. He drop it. One crazed thug threw himself at him. Lario tried to struggle to break free: an incredible weight on his chest, one blow, then another.
A flash of pain up his head

“F@ck it...let...it...be” was last Lario’s thought. Then everything went dark.

Picture #1
Lario in high school. He wanted to be a professional marathon runner

Picture #2
CARABINIERI units dispatched to Brooksville before the outbreak of the riots

Picture#3
CARABINIERI inner containment cordon in Brooksville

[ambrafoxtrot]

Interlude

Some clarification about the campaign might be in order for who might be interested in following this thread.

We are a group of military buffs interested in war/role gaming a vast conflict in our modern era.
Even though the Geopolitical premises of this campaign are certainly not entirely realistic, we are trying and will try to portray the realistic consequences of such a devastating occurrence, with particular emphasis on the territory of the United States of America. At the same time we will try to have as much fun as we can, being this a game and not an academic project.

Nevertheless, we have a couple of participants in this game who are supposed to make it very interesting for the gaming group, and hopefully for the audience of this thread if there is one. The Game Master has a working experience of five years in Bosnia Herzegovina between 1991 and 1995 during the Former Yugoslavia Civil War, while one of the players is a PhD in contemporary history; specialization History of United States Culture and Society.

This campaign will be mainly focused in the United States of America. The game master is using a technique of “progressive induced awareness” about what generated the conflict depicted in the campaign. The players started by knowing nothing other than their units had been activated for an invasion of the U.S.

The rationale of this “ignorance of the events” is that actually the crises has not been the result an escalation of political tension debouching into an armed conflict, but rather a sudden and secretly planned military campaign against the hegemonic power emerging from the cold war.

The only available data to the players before the beginning of the campaign were that the European Union and NATO did not exist anymore. The first one had been substituted by a federation (actually a confederation) formed by Germany, France, Benelux countries and Italy, and the second one, simply dissolved in 1997.

The invasion of the United States of America by a huge coalition of “objectors” to the international order emerging from “the end of history” to quote Fukuyama, began at the end of November 1999 (Thanks Giving Holiday) with a devastating attack to all the major facilities of the U.S. Navy, by the entire pool of special naval forces available to the World Coalition; objective, the destruction of the American Navy in port: tactically a massive repetition on a huge scale of the attacks by Italian human torpedoes on the British Mediterranean Bases during WWII; strategically, a giant repetition of Pearl Harbor, but with proportionally less waste of American lives, being the attacks surgical sneaky events.

At the price of practically the annihilation of the World Coalition naval Special Forces, a sufficient degradation of American Naval Power was achieved to make an invasion by sea possible.
The rest of the strategic and operational justifications for the establishment of beachheads on the continental Unites States are: the simultaneous assault by several major military powers all around the territory of the United States, with the attacks coming from multiple directions and with the help of a consistent strategic surprise.

Countries are actively engaged in the planned operation to subdue the United States to a new international order other than the “New American Century”:

THE WORLD COALITION formed by:
The European Federation (Italy, Germany, France Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg)
Russia, Ukraine, Belarus
China
Mexico
Cuba

Countries that intervened in defense of the United States, and are currently engaged in various degrees of military operations against the World Coalition:
Japan
United Kingdom
Canada

Neutral countries, but inclined to support the United States
Israel
Pakistan
South Africa
Korea (unified since 1996)
Taiwan
Ethiopia
Vietnam
Australia
New Zealand
Spain
Portugal
Brazil

Neutral countries, but inclined to support the World Coalition
Arab Countries in general (with exceptions) with various degrees of support for the World Coalition. Examples range from Syria, Iraq, Iran, Libya (very high support), to Oman, Kuwait Morocco (very low support)

All the rest, for now, are neutral and shocked by the magnitude of the events and by the degree of strategic surprise.

There are more countries which would be inclined to sympathize with the United States, but do not declare it officially for fear of powerful neighbors at war with the U.S. Examples are Poland, The Baltic States, Northern Europe countries, Hungary, Slovenia/Croatia/Bosnia and some others.

Like I said, the object of exploration of this campaign is a global war raging (for the first time in history) on the very homeland territory of the United States, at least at the beginning. Main focus will be the interaction of the American population as a whole, included of course the military, with such a cataclysmic event.

The followers of this thread are invited to comment, suggest, add, and subtract/criticize what they find inappropriate to the premises of the campaign.

Greetings

ambrafoxtrot

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 5…fly to heaven

Sounds and images came from the ceiling that was circling around him, smothered voices and bad smells; a face and a white doctor coat coming down from the turning ceiling.

“How do you feel?”
“Can you hear me”?

Lario tried to get up from the stretcher he was on, and was met with a spasm of pain going from his head down to his chest.

“Don’t move Sergeant; I could spare some sedative for you, but you are still pretty banged up. You have suffered a concussion, head trauma, and a suspect fractured cheekbone. If I had an X-Ray unit I could tell you for sure…Here is your friend. I can’t stay long; I have to go see the other patients. You take it easy ok”?

The CARABINIERI medic officer turned to Goia who was sitting on the floor next to Lario.

“Keep an eye on him and come get me or Miss Bates if anything weird happens. He should be ok by now, but I’d give him another 24 hours under observation. Thing is I don’t have any observers, so you will have to do”.

“Yes Lieutenant” answered Goia, and turned to Lario as soon as the medic was gone.

“What happened” Lario asked from behind his bandaged face.

“We got lucky Sergeant…really lucky; like in the movies. When you went down, the bad guys were all over us and I thought we were all dead; a group of two or three civilians appeared and started to shoot at them with a handgun. The crazies went after them when they realized they were the new threat, but the civilians did not give them the time to do anything. They drew sub machineguns out of their coats and killed them all”.

Lario did not answer; he felt too weak to do so, but continued to look at Goia like if he wanted to hear more.

Goia paused for a moment and then he continued:

“I have no idea how none of these bullet hit us, Sergeant. The Civilians disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, and not long after that, the Giuffre’ came around the block with the VM and scooped us up”.

Lario made another effort to talk to Goia.

“The women…the women who were screaming…”

Goia’s face turned to a compassionate expression mixed with disappointment.

“I don’t know Sergeant; I think…I guess they are gone”.

Lario put his head back on the stretcher and followed with his eyes the woman who was attending the wounded in the room, going from one to another, Italian Soldiers and American civilians alike, to provide assistance, help, or simply comfort. Goia noticed Lario was looking at her and spoke again:

“That girl; I think she is called Kate…they told me she has been here since the first wounded started to come, and she never left. She is a specialized they say. One of those like in that American show…what is it called…oh yes…I.R…have you ever heard about it Sergeant”?

Lario did not answer but continued to follow her with his eyes, from behind his bandage; a wonderful image of peace and grace in the general madness.

Goia resumed…
“I guess I have been lucky Sergeant…I’ve got some scratches on my arms and legs. But the CARABINIERE…Mancuso that was with us, he suffered multiple injuries even though none of them fatal. I believe he is in the next room. The doc says he will be ok, he just need time to recover”.

Goia pauses, and then looked at Lario again.

“I have seen at least a couple of dozen CARABINIERI In here, pretty messed up Sir, by the rioters mainly but I also saw three or four fire weapon injures. I don’t understand why they just don’t leave this town and relocate to a safer area, may be closer to regular army troops. There is nothing here that is worth staying for, except may be for the fact that the fu#$@ing town is placed in the middle of the salient”

Lario once again said nothing, but continued to look at the American nurse doing her job around the room, disappearing for a moment, and then coming back as she started to attend an American girl that could have been thirteen or so, with a cast on her left leg. Then Lario looked back at Goia, who struggled to find any other words. Finally Lario put his head on the pillow and closed his eyes.

Goia left for a minute, then he came back and sit in the same spot he was before.

“I was also thinking, Serge…I should be going back to the regime…”

Lario was by then asleep.

A CARABINIERI armored van and the County Sheriff car were parked outside the Brooksville public school gym building; a State Trooper and a CARABINIERE guarding both vehicles, smoking cigarettes and mix matching the few words of each other language they knew, in order to try and some small talk. Inside the building, Captain Cantatore, the commander of the CARABINIERI company in town, assisted by the sheriff, was addressing a group of families.

“Thank you very much for coming here today” said Cantatore In his fair but accented English.

Cantatore waited that the volume of the crowd voices quieted enough to be able to speak.

“Thank you for attending this”… Cantatore said again…”I have invited you here tonight to address all of you about a possibility that I have been pondering on, together with the town authorities”

He paused looking at Sheriff Rogers on his right, leaving the podium to him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen” the Sheriff Resumed…”the situation in town is rapidly deteriorating, as it is in the entire county and I would dare to say, in the entire State. The Italian military police cannot anymore guarantee safety, as its casualties mount in consequence of the rioting and of the civil unrest that is ravaging the county. Also, as you already know, the supply of medicines and food that the Italians had with them are rapidly diminishing as the resupply from their rear echelon units came to a stop weeks ago. The flow of refugees from Tampa Bay and St. Petersburg has made the situation almost unsustainable for us, especially considering that a most part of these refugees are desperate and dangerous people. Captain Cantatore is worried about the possibility of his company falling apart at any moment, having its casualties almost reached 50% in wounded and dead. In the major incidents of yesterday near Russell Street Park, Captain Cantatore lost another dozen of his men; most of them will not be able to be in action for a long time, two of them are dead.”

A murmur of fear and disappointment came from the assembled crowd.

“Please”…Sheriff Rogers called from the podium…”please people listen to me…” he waved his hands to try and obtain attention again.

When the noise from the crowd quieted enough, the Sheriff continued:

“Captain Cantatore proposed me a plan of evacuation”

Crowd almost silent now.

“The plan”…Rogers continued…”The plan is to use Captain Cantatore Helicopters to fly evacuation missions for the children; destination the Italian HQ in Spring Hill and Hernando Beach. Then, possibly, the rest of the people who want to be evacuated could undertake the same trip by land under escort. It is a 50 km trip tops, but under the present circumstances, it can be a long and difficult task to accomplish”.

A man in a striped shirt and a baseball cap yelled from the crowd:

“We are not going to give our children to these foreigners who are the cause of this mess to begin with”.

The crowd splitted, between murmuring of consent and some shouts of disapproval.

Captain Cantatore approached the podium again:

“The airlift evacuation area will be set up tomorrow between West Jefferson Street and the 98th. I did not have any official communications from my command, but my hope is to be able to transfer as many children as I can in the Hernando beach area and possibly to board them on one or more coalition ships of any kind, at least until the conditions in the State of Florida become better. Like the Sheriff said, the situation at present is deteriorating quickly: my officers and I feel that we cannot guarantee your safety for much longer. We might be ordered to leave the area at any time. If there is anything that we can still do for this town, I would rather do it before those orders come, cause after they do, I won’t have any time left”.

“I will tell you more” Cantatore added after a pause to let the people assimilate the previous information…

“Between us and Tampa Bay, along the approaches that the refugees are using to flood this area, there should be Italian troops. They are the southern portion of the Italian Salient in Western Florida. I do have to assume that they cannot or have not been ordered to stop the flow of refugees from the major cities in the south. In both cases, the situation here is rapidly becoming desperate. We lack fuel, ammunition, medical supplies. All we could salvage from stores and malls”…Cantatore struggled some seconds before finding the last word in his limited English vocabulary…” all of that have been salvaged already and distributed in the best way possible. Nothing more is going to come anytime soon; we have less than one week of supplies. Then what”?

The crowd was mute now in the large gym.

“I say”…continued the CARABINIERE in black uniform…”we have a safe mean of evacuation with a limited number of tickets; the heliborne section: I say we use it for as many children we can. After that, if in one week I do not receive orders, I will try and extricate my company from here and whoever wants to take a chance with us will be free to do so. I know the options are limited and the situation is difficult, but this is all I can offer”.

Cantatore paused gain and looked all around the hall.

“The helicopters will be ready to begin their sorties after tomorrow 09:00 local time. They will continue to fly until the Avgas fuel will be exhausted at which point they will not come back. Whoever wants to take their children to the evacuation area will find my personnel ready to take care of them. It is a humanitarian emergency we are facing; we have to make choices”.

That said, Captain Cantatore thanked Sheriff Rogers and left, followed his bodyguards. Sheriff Rogers remained to ask the torrent of questions that followed.

Pic#1 Kate Bates in action (Brooksville Med Military post)
Pic#2 Captain Cantatore personally supervises the first heliborne sorties to evacuate the American children from Brooksville.

Continues…

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 6…Storm front

Captain Cantatore had his headquarter in a small house between Hale Avenue and Walker Street on the south Western corner of Brooksville; a sentinel armed with a Beretta SC 70 assault rifle on duty at all times. Fires from the recent riots and incidents were still visible on the south eastern part of town accompanied by the smell of uncollected trash, smoke and the occasional unburied body due to lack of time or family members of the dead one.

The sentry at the HQ was about lighting a cigarette when he spotted a civilian casually walking towards him coming from a lateral street. The approaching man was pretty tall and broad, wearing jeans, winter boots, and a heavy leather worn out jacket. A black wool cap completed his suit.

The carabiniere chambered a bullet in his AR and threw away the cigarette he just lit, at the same time trying to get a better picture of the newcomer, who was advancing towards him.

When the civilian approached the 20 yards distance range, the Carabiniere put the rifle on the ready. The approaching guy has his hand in plain view at least.

“Halt…what do yu wont John”

The civilian stopped walking and kind of leaned towards the Carabiniere, like if he was ready to whisper something to him.

“I need to talk to your boss kid” said the civilian

The Italian didn’t understand, and dismissively answered to the American to go to hell, in colorful Italian: it was not the right day for Carabiniere Rabito to hear any complaints from the locals.

The American did not get a single word of what the Italian soldier said but he grasped a hint from his tone.

“Listen up you asshole; you guys are going to be hit by a tornado in the next 24 hours. I need to talk to your chief now”.

The Italian grasped the harsh tone as well, and started to get pissed in a very Italian way. He shouldered his assault weapon and was about to draw his riot baton, when an NCO came out of the small house which served as command post, avoiding everybody a big bag of trouble. Rabito stopped advancing toward the American, who was waiting for him with his hand on his hips not at all impressed by the aggressive stance of the Carabiniere. At the same time, another American civilian, unseen and prone on a nearby roof, eased his finger off the trigger of his M 21 sniper rifle.

The NCO asked in a passable but heavy accented English if he could do anything to help.
The Heavy Jacket guy was starting to lose hope that any of these illiterate WOPs could ever understand him. He collected all the patience he could muster, and went through the routine again: slowly he pulled off a white handkerchief from a chest pocket, waved it at the Italians and proffered:

“A-M-E-R-I-C-A-N N-A-V-Y ...W-E N-E-E-D TO T-A-L-K”

The Carabiniere froze, undecided if he should grab his rifle again but at the same time not wanting to show to the American that he was almost peeing in his pants, while the NCO remained considerably calm and had the presence to ask the American to wait right there.

After no more than thirty seconds the NCO was back with Captain Cantatore, who stared at the American for a couple of seconds:

“My Sergeant here told me you need some help, Sir…what can I…”

“I am Petty Officer Joshua Talbot and you are the one who needs help; I request a truce to talk”

“You alone?”

“No…my commander is waiting for a signal to join us”… Talbot didn’t mention the third member of the team on the nearby roof.

“You can have your commander join us officer” said Cantatore taking off his gloves and shifting his weight on his left leg, assuming a waiting kind of posture.

Ralston lifted his right arm over his head, his fist in the air, and after a few seconds, another American appeared form the door of a convenience store on the same road the group was standing on. When the second U.S. sailor reached the group he introduced himself as well:

“I am Master Petty Officer William Ralston, captain. I am in command of an U.S. naval infantry detachment operating in this area. You can consider us negotiators under the protection of the white flag. Will you grant us that status”?

“I doubt you’d be here if you didn’t take your precautions - Mister Commander of an U.S. naval infantry detachment”, said Lario shooting a gaze at the two men.

“Not a lot of precautions captain: I have a sniper who by now should be able to waste more than one of you guys if he sees any weird movements, and some further little precautions; nothing major. On yhe other hand, I bet none of that will be necessary. We have been observing you guys for a week now, and we know that we are among gentlemen”.

Cantatore almost smiled at the American NCO; who said the Americans had no style.

“I thank you for the consideration Mr. Ralston. Shall we go inside, or would you rather have me in the scope of your sniper for the entire conversation”.

“It was now the turn of the American to grin”. He gestured with his hand that he was ready to follow the Italians inside.

“You Captain…or to say better… we all have a big problem” said Ralston sitting with his elbows on the back of a wooden chair…”Actually two big problems…but one is strictly yours, and the other is…let’s say…a common concern”.

Cantatore stared at the man with an interrogative expression.

“The first problem is that we have news of a horde of refugees coming from Tampa Bay and S. Petersburg; a mix of scumbags of the worse kind, and a wave of desperate people fleeing away from the radioactive ruins of the two towns.

“Do you know who released the nuclear weapons there”? Asked Cantatore in a haste.

Ralston exchanged a brief look with his colleague.

“I don’t know Captain, and even if I knew, I could not tell you. What I can tell you though, is that it’s a total disaster down there, and it is going to be a disaster up here very soon as well; worse than you have seen so far”

Cantatore remained silent; his turned to exchange looks with his subordinates.

“The second problem, captain”, resumed Ralston, “regards you guys in particular…I mean the Italian forces in Florida; moving around, south of here, we eyeballed several Italian units belonging - according to our sources - to the 132nd Tank Regiment. Do not expect any of these troops to put a dent into the refugees flooding sir…said troops are on the verge of collapse.

Cantatore didn’t manage to hide his horror hearing that news. It could be certainly a bunch of bull, but the American knew what Italian units were located in the area, and also their composition. On the other hand, the 132nd could have been ordered to ignore the flow of refugees…no it couldn’t, considering that the movement was directed to the heart of the Italian salient and to the proximity of its logistic bases. The American had to be at least partially right about the pitiful status of the Ariete tankers.

CPO Ralston seemed to guess what Cantatore was cogitating and recalled him to reality:

“Captain, the mob will reach this town…I estimate… in 24-36 hours. We don’t have much time to prep the defenses. I offer you the cooperation of my troops to defend the town. I have seen the efforts that you have put in keeping this area in order Captain, and let me tell you that we appreciated these efforts. This is probably going to be the supreme challenge for us, if you still intend to commit your forces to this purpose”.

Cantatore slowly raised his look on the American navy man with a mix of anger and sympathy. The man was talking to him like if the Italian expedition corps was already defeated and on the verge of total collapse. Was he really offering his cooperation or was he trying to use the Italians to work for him and spill more of their blood to defend a territory that they should have firmly in their control instead.

“What kind of cooperation are you offering exactly Mr. Ralston” demanded Cantatore…”would you consider to put your troops under my command”?

“How is the children evacuation going Captain”? Ralston suddenly changed subject

“F#$k this yank knows too many things” Cantatore thought while gazing again the man of the Navy.

“Not as well as I hoped Sir. I am afraid that we have much less Avgas than available sorties to complete the mission”.

“It’s ok Captain” answer Ralston trying to reassure the Italian. “I suggest we put the remaining children in the northern part of town with the other civilians, and that we prepare the defense of this town. For the duration of the crises, I am ready to submit my forces under you tactical control according to the old NATO standard procedures: you give me a radio and you can issue your orders to my troops; I listen and I reserve to myself the right to overcome any orders that I believe doesn’t make any sense; how does that sound to you”?

“It sounds exactly like old NATO standard procedures: bunch of crap” said Cantatore…”But I guess it will have to do for now. I will tell you what: I am decided to defend this town. Many of my men have already died for it, and many more are incapacitated and laying in my improvised hospital downtown. By the way, there are a number of civilians as well that are using that facility. We will have to plan its protection, since most of the patients cannot be moved”.

“It’s ok captain; I guess you will have to spare some assets to defend the hospital. For my part, I will set an observation post on the southern edge. Do you have a vehicle to spare so I can send my men to recover some of the weapon caches we have scattered around here? We have our own supplies, and we will not burden you guys. I just need a vehicle to collect my stuff quickly”.

Ralston saw the perplexed look on Cantatore face at his request of a vehicle and quickly added:

“I’ll stay captain. I’ll prepare my OP and wait here with you that my guys come back with the equipment”.

“I have a Civilian truck that belongs to a recon team from one of our units out east. The commander of that team is currently out of commission after an unpleasant encounter with one of the local gangs. You can use that vehicle if you want”.

“My boys will probably be back in less than six hours”.

Cantatore instructed Rabito to take the Americans to the motor pool where the Chevy truck that Lario used to come into town was being kept.

After the party left, Cantatore asked his NCO:

“What do you make of them Sergio?”

“Navy Seals captain”.

[ambrafoxtrot]

We are thinking about closing this thread after the Brooksville story arc, because of lack of followers.

Thank you everybody

ambrafoxtrot

[cavtroop]

We are thinking about closing this thread after the Brooksville story arc, because of lack of followers.

Thank you everybody

ambrafoxtrot

Please dont! this board doesnt get alot of views, but I'm loving your stuff :)

[Legbreaker]

You might not get a lot of comments, but there has been over 450 views since the thread was started a short time ago. For this site that's absolutely phenomenal!

[Bullet Magnet]

I'm with Cavtroop & Legbreaker on this. I'm enjoying the story, and held off commenting mainly to not disrupt the story posts.

I hope you'll consider continuing to post these, and I'm sure there are others who feel the same way.

[ambrafoxtrot]

Interlude

“Gamma Ray; this is Sierra 17…we have a contact bearing 190, distance 6 miles from your main body. Confirm positive submarine on active sonar array. Bearing and ID negative, depth about 170 feet, over”.

The Italian Light Frigate “Artigliere” did not have any ASW sensor on board, but still the data link from the AB 212 helicopter Sierra 17 relayed the position of the submerged contact on the Frigate Combat Center; the area of approximation was remarkably small. Commander Paolo Grandi was running to the CIC from his private quarters even before Sierra 17 message was completed. The specter of an American attack sub wreaking havoc in what remained of his naval group flickered in his mind while he was covering the short distance.

When Grandi reached the darkened combat center of the frigate, Lieutenant Commander Julius Voekler, the frigate XO, had already taken some measures on initiative.

“Sir I invited the group commander to take his ship north at flank sped and I am interposing the frigate between the “Foudre” and the contact. Sierra 17 is standing by for the attack order”.

“Well done Lieutenant thank you”.

Grandi glanced at the tactical display, which showed the French Amphibious Assault ship Foudre running north at his modest maximum speed of 20 knots, escorted by the lowly Minesweeper “Alghero” which was rapidly falling behind at her mighty speed of 14 nautical miles per hour.

With the Italian logistic ships S.Marco and S.Giorgio sunk, the Foudre was the last standing resupply platform for the confederation land forces in Western Florida and Louisiana. If they lost that ship, Confy land forces in the south of the United States would be basically turned into stragglers overnight.

“Sierra 17 this is Cobra 17; did you make out a bearing on the contact yet, over”? Commander Grandi asked the helicopter.

“Negative; the contact is shallow and creeping. We have the dome on the 150 feet band range. It is quite a big motherfu@^er judging from the echo Sir” Sierra 17 said, forgetting that he was talking with the officer in command… “It could be a Russian nuclear or an American boat looking for prey; Permission to engage Sir, over”.

“Denied Sierra 17; repeat; hold your fire. I need identification Sierra 17; switch on the passive relay and give me an ID before I can authorize you to fire. If it is a Russian boat, we can’t risk blue on blue, confirm over”. Grandi voice raised by a couple of octaves.

The answer from Sierra 17 was the most unexpected:
“Cobra, we have pumps and hull expansion crackling noises on the passive track. The contact is…the contact is emerging Sir”!!


“TACCO” Grandi calmly addressed the tactical officer on duty…”Prepare for surface action starboard, brandish the OTOBREDA 127mm at 190 degrees…at my order…sustained fire…not before I give the order”, Grandi looked steadily at his TACCO.

“Aye Sir”

Grandi and the staff officers rushed outside to the starboard bridge of the frigate, a multitude of binoculars pointing at the bearing where the contact was supposed to be.

Then, in the dark night of the Gulf of Mexico immense arena, a set of ESM antennas appeared first, followed by half a forest of observation and attack periscopes. When the massive island of the night black behemoth appeared, it took commander Grandi several seconds to recognize the shape of a “Triomphant” Class Ballistic Missile Submarine. At the same time, from one of the numerous turret masts of the submarine, a Morse transmission broke the darkness between it and the Italian Frigate:

“Marine Nationale Strategic Submarine Temeraire-Marine Nationale Strategic Submarine Temeraire-to Confederation Naval Group 222-send group commander on board-repeat send group commander on board-EMCON status Red-Please confirm………..“Marine Nationale Strategic Submarine Temeraire………”

“It’s a French Boomer. What the hell is she doing here”? Commander Grandi thought while looking at his open mouthed XO”…

“Commander to bridge” Grandi grabbed the mike on one of the communication stations along the starboard bridge. “Revoke alert status, and send up here a Morse certified sailor with a lamp. Pass word to the Foudre that a friend of her is here and wants the group commander on board ASAP”…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Admiral quarters of the Nuclear Ballistic Submarine Temeraire could certainly not be considered ample by any standard definition; still the four officers around the table of Admiral Stephan Goulet’s conference cabin, sat pretty comfortably, assisted by the ship staff bringing them tea, milk, assorted sandwiches and butter croissants. As vice commander of the French Navy, Goulet had been assigned the best available quarters on the brand new SSBN.

Rear Admiral Jean Barduin, commander of Confederation naval group 222 and embarked on the Support ship Foudre was the first officer to go past the introductory small talk, and to get to business.

“Can you give us any update on the strategic situation Sir?” He said addressing Goulet; “We have been without orders for more than three weeks now”.

The French Admiral gave a sad look to his subordinate.

“I am afraid my dear Barduin that there are no orders. We lost contact with the Confederation supreme Headquarter when the nukes started to fly. My best guess it that Confederation authority has been decapitated. We have to try and improvise a strategic conduct of the war for the future, my friend”.

Rear Admiral Barduin was speechless…

“We… who; if I may ask Admiral”?

“Well, like I said we lost contact with the supreme headquarters in Brussels about one month ago. I believe that Europe has been hit hard by American strategic weapons. Actually I think that the retaliatory strikes by the United States, after our limited counter value strike, have been much more intense than expected”.

“Are you saying that we attacked first Sir”? Asked Barduin more and more horrified.

“As far as I know we did, Rear Admiral. Despite the overwhelming numerical superiority of the Coalition land forces, the resistance of the United States Continental forces has been more and more effective, especially against the Chinese on the West Coast. The intelligence gurus quickly sentenced that the Americans had too much qualitative superiority on the vital western front, and suggested limited nuclear strikes on selected high tech industrial infrastructure objectives. I don’t know what followed, but judging from the silence from our chain of command, nothing good happened after that. My personal opinion is that the Americans retaliated heavily across the board, with massive counter force and counter value strikes”.

Admiral Goulet stopped for a moment trying to find the words…

“In a way, I think that the overall command suspected that the U.S. could overreact, because they tried to disperse the chain of command before ordering the strikes. I for example got embarked on this submarine. Barring any contact with Brussels, I believe I am the highest ranking officer in the Confederation armed forces still alive and…”

“So what are you trying to do Sir”? Barduin interrupted his superior?

“First of all, I have to investigate what forces are still available. I have an order of battle of the Coalition forces that is more than one month old. I’m kind of hoping that these forces are still located more or less where they are supposed to. I am trying to make contact with them separately, before I can somehow establish a new line of centralized communication”.

“I guess any attempt to communicate directly from this platform is out of question Sir”. Barduin retorted.

“You guess right Admiral” Goulet answered, “This submarine probably represents a good part of the Coalition remaining strategic attack capability. She still retains her full complement of SLBMs”.

Admiral Goulet took another sip from his tea cup.

“We were stationed 50 miles off the coast of Brazil and waiting for our orders to move, to launch or both. For eleven days we tried to make contact with the High Command, before we decided to take the initiative of leaving station. You guys are my first stop in our itinerary. Is what I saw all it is left of group 222”?

Barduin exchanged a look with Commander Grandi:

“We have sustained five distinct battles with the U.S. Air Force, after we managed to put the Italian COMFOD 1 and the Russo/Cuban Invasion Force ashore. The Americans didn’t oppose the landings in force, but after they realized what was going on, they started to attack us and our flow of supplies. They have been quite successful. The Italian LPDs are gone and so is their main AAW player, the destroyer De La Penne. We have not seen any major U.S. Navy platforms in this theatre, but God knows if their Air Force has been enough to badly maul us. After we lost the Italian DDG, I assumed the command of the group as the senior remaining officer”.

“Have you been attacked recently”?

“No Sir, we sustained the last attack nine days ago. The LPD S.Marco took four harpoons in her belly and disappeared with all hands. One of the Hornets was slow in his disengaging maneuver and Commander Grandi here sent it to hell with an Aspide. That has been our last encounter with the enemy. We are almost without AA ammunition Sir, if the enemy comes at us again and the my ship goes, God help the land forces”.

Admiral Goulet did nothing to conceal his disappointment to his officers:

“I told them before they started this sh@ty war. I told the supreme naval command that even if we managed to surprise and cripple the U.S. Navy; we would still lack the air projection capability to assure the safety of our task forces”.

“What about your carriers”? Commander Grandi asked with a worried expression.

“As far as I know” Answered Admiral Goulet the Foch is still operative and assigned to the invasion of the British Islands. But that’s not the point. The point is that we didn’t manage to capture and prepare enough airports along the coasts of the United States, and worse, to transfer enough aircrafts to support our operations here in North America.

“What about the Russians and the Germans on the East Coast”? Barduin reentered the conversation.

“They’re my next stop. At present I have no information about the eastern front at all”.

Admiral Goulet took another croissant and started to chew on it:

“OK…This is what you are going to do Admiral” he looked straight into Barduin’s eyes. “You are going to continue to be on station in this area and supply the Coalition forces in your theatre. I will collect my information on our forces and try to convey in theatre as many supply ship as I can. Prepare me a list of what you need…oil, ammunition, everything. I will put my ESM up every three days at 12:00 Zulu time. Until further notice, consider me the supreme commander Eastern Theatre of operations. I believe the Americans know your approximate position, so it will not be too detrimental for you to initiate communication with me every three days. Give me the time to figure out what is going on in the world, and then we will try to carry on with our strategic directives”.

Commander Grandi dared to interrupt Admiral Goulet one more time:

“Excuse me Sir…I have been wandering since the first day: who started it Sir…and why. Everything has been so sudden and unexpected…I…You, Sir…you said that you talked to the planners of this…do you know how it started”?

“Don’t you know how wars begin Commander”? The French senior Admiral commented, while chewing on his butter croissant…”there is an international order and some objectors to it. When the objectors get pissed enough…they act”.

“But this attack on the heart of the United States…Sir…It is huge…it is unimaginable…who in the world and for what reasons…”

“Son...” Admiral Goulet cut short…”It is complicated to explain, and we have not the time or the authority to judge all this now. History, if someone will survive this war, will be the judge of what is happening. I will tell you this though: the old Soviet Union fell without a war because its economic mistakes influenced the Soviet Union and the Soviet Union only. The economic mistakes of the United States of America, threatened to sink the entire world with it: a coalition of Statesmen around the world thought they could avoid that with a sudden action and minimal damages. Second guessing them, I would say they were wrong. But second guessing is always a tad late isn’t it”?

A long silence followed in the Master cabin of the nuclear French Submarine.

“Captain Fellier” resumed Admiral Goulet, addressing the Skipper of the Submarine, who had not spoken a single word during the entire meetin. “Let’s bring this boat on the surface and have our guest rejoin their commands”.

Fellier left the cabin at once after giving his salutes to the presents, and went supervising the surfacing procedures.

“Every three days Gentlemen” Admiral Goulet smiled at his subordinates…”Twelve Zero, Zero Zulu time. Meanwhile, keep your boats floating”.

[ambrafoxtrot]

A question for the readers:

Sometimes, I attach some pictures to the posts. Are they visible ?

Thank you

ambrafoxtrot

[Targan]

They're visible for me. Very atmospheric too.

[RN7]

First of all ambrafoxtrot its a very good read, but realy I think its completely implausable.

The only way to incapacitate a military power of the magnitute of America is to launch a suprise first strike nuclear attack on it. Only the Soviet Union at the absolute height of its power would have even contimplated this and it would have led to its own destruction at the hands of an American nuclear counter attack.

A "devastating attack to all the major facilities of the U.S. Navy, by the entire pool of special naval forces available to the World Coalition".

Well I suppose its possible but it would take some amount of planning and logistical coordination and the US military realy would have to be asleep for any of it to even partially succeed.

" At the price of practically the annihilation of the World Coalition naval Special Forces"

Yes I would expect this to happen fairly quickly!

" a sufficient degradation of American Naval Power was achieved to make an invasion by sea possible"

At best I'm sure they would get some ships, maybe even an aircraft carrier or two, but they won't get everything or even close to it. But what about the other ships at sea and the nuclear attack submarine fleet? Also what about the rest of the US military, the USAF in particular?

" The rest of the strategic and operational justifications for the establishment of beachheads on the continental Unites States are: the simultaneous assault by several major military powers all around the territory of the United States, with the attacks coming from multiple directions and with the help of a consistent strategic surprise".

So in addition to the US military and intelligence community completely missing the special forces attack on its navy, they also don't notice the naval build by foreign powers in the Atlantic and Pacific who's ships are steaming towards the US East and West Coast, or the massing of Mexican troops south of the border?

Also if the US navy has just been attacked in this way wouldn't the rest of the US military be realy pissed and would be quickly looking for a target to blow the crap out of? Do you not think that rest of the US Navy and the USAF would be looking at all those foreign warships with invasion troops cruising off the US coast and wouldn't put two and two together fairly quickly? Also even if we discount the US strategic nuclear forces which in 1999 are the most powerful in the world, the US also has a very large number of long ranged strategic bombers and TLAM armed nuclear submarines who are designed to attack and obliterate hostle targets very far away from the US.

"THE WORLD COALITION formed by:
The European Federation (Italy, Germany, France Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg)
Russia, Ukraine, Belarus
China
Mexico
Cuba"

None of these countries with the exception of Russia has the geographical advantage or the naval logistical capacity to succesfully land invasion troops in America by sea, and Russia could only do it in Alaska and the Canadian Pacific. Cuba might pull off a limited invasion of Florida if America was totally asleep but its ships would be quickly sunk and it troops mopped up once it woke up. I think Mexico could realy only military invade America in the circumstances of the Twilight War.


"Countries that intervened in defense of the United States, and are currently engaged in various degrees of military operations against the World Coalition:
Japan
United Kingdom
Canada"

I think probaby the worst enemies to have if your trying to invade America from Europe, the Far East or the Arctic. Britain and Japan are major military powers, especially naval powers and they could in their own right severly disrupt naval operations against the US in either the Atlantic or Pacific. The Royal Navy's nuclear attack submarine fleet is deadly, maybe the best in the world, and even excluding the US nuclear attack subs it would cause huge problems for any European or Russian naval force in the Atlantic and Arctic Oceans. Britain and Japan also support large numbers of USAF assets which could be rapidly and massively reinforced in wartime from CONUS in addition to their own not insignificant air power.

[Legbreaker]

First of all ambrafoxtrot its a very good read, but realy I think its completely implausable.

It's fiction....that alone requires suspension of disbelief.
:rolleyes:

[ambrafoxtrot]

RN7

Thank you very much for having taken the time for such a detailed analysis of the thread.

#I think its completely implausable.#

You are correct, no doubt about that; no more realistic than the "Red Dawn" movie. Oh by the way, I think they are planning on a remake in 2012.

Your Strategic analysis is also correct, not to mention detailed.

Planning an invasion of continental United States, especially by so different military establishments (China, Germany, France, Russia...) would be a very hard task. Even in the stretechd fiction of this thread, the Coalition had to resort to nuclear weapons after not even one month from the beginning of the operations. it looks like the retaliation by the US has been devastating.

#"Countries that intervened in defense of the United States, and are currently engaged in various degrees of military operations against the World Coalition:
Japan
United Kingdom
Canada"
#I think probaby the worst enemies to have if your trying to invade America from Europe, the Far East or the Arctic. Britain and Japan are major military powers, especially naval powers#

Agreed...but it is not my fault if all the medium naval power, with the exception of France, would not side against the U.S. not even in the most daring fiction !! Most of all...those darn British...couldn't they cooperate with the bad guys just for once ?
By the way, ole Albion is being invaded too, so that it has to use its deadly infantry to protect its ar@e, instead of sending it around to wreak havoc in other people operations. :p

#At best I'm sure they would get some ships, maybe even an aircraft carrier or two, but they won't get everything or even close to it.#

Probably our GM (a crazy man) was counting on the expertise of COMSUBIN to train the other naval special forces in new and secret methodologies to covertly destroy enemy ships in port. If you are are expert of military things as it sounds you are, you probably know that X MAS and COMSUBIN trained the first American Combat Swimmers and created the Israeli Naval Special Forces from scratch (I have primary sources to prove both points on your request).

I think the war is not going well for the world coalition. If you have read my latest post, you probably noticed it. However, like I said at the beginning, the purpose of the campaign is to run a Twilight environment in the Heart of the United States territory, with multinational military forces in it. A big deal of "stretching" was necessary in the first place.

Thank you again for you analysis, that I will submit today to our GM, so that he can use it to fine tune the continuation of the campaign.

By the way...can you see the pictures that every now and then I attach to the posts?

ambrafoxtrot

[RN7]

Probably our GM (a crazy man) was counting on the expertise of COMSUBIN to train the other naval special forces in new and secret methodologies to covertly destroy enemy ships in port. If you are are expert of military things as it sounds you are, you probably know that X MAS and COMSUBIN trained the first American Combat Swimmers and created the Israeli Naval Special Forces from scratch (I have primary sources to prove both points on your request)

I'm not an expert on military things and its quite possible that COMSUBIN played a major role in training Shayetet 13, but how did they train the first American combat swimmers? I'm sure there where was some post-war NATO liasons and joint training with Italian navy frogmen, but the foundation of the US Navy UDT and SEAL teams has its origins in the Navy Scouts and Raiders which were formed in 1942 when Italy was at war with America, and the navy used them in Allied operations in North Africa, Normandy, Opeartion Dragoon, Angaur, Balikpapan, Brunei Bay, Eniwetok, Guam, Leyte, Lingayen Gulf, Labuan, Okinawa, Peleliu, Saipan, Tarawa, Ulithi and Zambales.

[ambrafoxtrot]

but the foundation of the US Navy UDT and SEAL teams has its origins in the Navy Scouts and Raiders which were formed in 1942 when Italy was at war with America

Correct again: WWII was not over yet, when the Americans started to use Italian GAMMA operators personnel to train and put together their first combat swimmers team to employ in the Pacific.

A bunch of traitors (or patriots) depending on the what point of view of the Italian Civil war 43-45 you see that from, accepted the American "request" to help create a "pilot" team of US swimmers, reverse engineer Italian classified equipment, and instruct the Americans on all the operative procedures of the GAMMA operators of the X MAS

Source OSS declassified documentation. Let me know if you want me to send you a PDF copy.

As for the Sahayetet 13 creation back in the late forties, you just have to Google the name of the Grandfather (and honorary commander) of the unit:

"Fiorenzo Capriotti"

greetings

ambrafoxtrot

P.S. the pictures...can you see them ?

[RN7]

Correct again: WWII was not over yet, when the Americans started to use Italian GAMMA operators personnel to train and put together their first combat swimmers team to employ in the Pacific. A bunch of traitors (or patriots) depending on the what point of view of the Italian Civil war 43-45 you see that from, accepted the American "request" to help create a "pilot" team of US swimmers, reverse engineer Italian classified equipment, and instruct the Americans on all the operative procedures of the GAMMA operators of the X MAS

Source OSS declassified documentation. Let me know if you want me to send you a PDF copy.

Well that wouldn't suprise me that much as most of the US post-war space and rocket program was built on German rocket scientists and Nazi data, and they gave amnesties to Japanese germ warfare scientists who turned over their data to the US after experimenting on people during the war. I don't think the Italians realy had their hearts in the Axis during WW2, as they toppled Mussolini very quickly after the Allies invaded Sicily.



As for the Sahayetet 13 creation back in the late forties, you just have to Google the name of the Grandfather (and honorary commander) of the unit:

"Fiorenzo Capriotti"

greetings

ambrafoxtrot

P.S. the pictures...can you see them ?.

Well I can't say that I know much about Israeli naval special forces as they don't come up that much in the aspects of T2K and its a fairly obscure piece of history, but wasn't he a diehard fascisist?

But there is of course a difference between extreme Italian nationalists and Nazi's, as otherwise the Israelis would have shot him the first chance that they had.

Yes I can see the pictures :)

[RN7]

RN7

By the way, ole Albion is being invaded too, so that it has to use its deadly infantry to protect its ar@e, instead of sending it around to wreak havoc in other people operations.

An invasion of Britain or/and Japan might be a more feasable proposal for your group. America would of course intervene but probably not with its nuclear forces.

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 7…Pact with the enemy

Chief Ralston was the first one to spot them from the roof of the Chase Bank that he had chosen as his personal OP. They were coming out of the woods on the southern edge of the town and pointing straight at the town. Ralston spoke in his Motorola microphone:

“Foxtrot 1 this is Whiskey Romeo over”

“Whiskey Romeo this is Foxtrot 1, go ahead over”

“I visualize three, I repeat three leg infantries in motion, not able to ID yet, but I will in a few minutes if they continue this way over”

“Roger that Whiskey Romeo, keep observing, I’m activating fire team 2; distance of the incomings over”?

“About 900 yards over”

“Roger that, out”

Captain Cantatore put the mike down and tilted his head at Brigadiere Spinesi, who rushed outside along the perimeter. He reached the position of Sheriff Rogers who manned a sandbagged foxhole close to a Shell gas station. Spinesi grabbed Rogers’ binoculars and scanned the hilly area south of the position:

It took a while to the NCO to identify the contacts and more or less at the same time, Ralston came again on the air:

“Foxtrot 1 this is Whiskey Romeo…I count 2 Italian BDUs, one armed with assault rifle type Beretta AR, the other one unarmed. The third element appears also unarmed, probable tank crewman uniform; I have to assume Italian as well over”.

Spinesi observed the group stopping at about 500 yards, looking around and hastily trying to make their way back from where they had come from.

“Sh@t” thought the Brigadiere; “They must have spotted something they didn’t like; may be the American police uniforms or something”.

He rushed back into the abandoned Thai restaurant that served as tactical command post, to inform Cantatore.

“All right, Spinesi: take Rabito with you, grab the VM and go get those people for me will you”? said Cantatore. “With all probability they are stragglers from the 132th. Be careful though; do not get in any friendly fire”.

“That won’t happen sir, I’ll be sure to blow my horn strong and clear”.

In less than five minutes Rabito was racing down the bumpy county road 41, entering the woods south of Brooksville; he drove the VM off road vehicle on top of a small hill, where it could be very visible and stopped. It did not take long: after just a couple of calls with the vehicle megaphone, three men acknowledged Spinesi’s thick Sicilian accent, and popped out of the woods, like autumn mushrooms.

The view that presented itself in front of the two CARABINIERI was actually quite a sorry one: a trio of worn out, terrorized stragglers. Only one of them still carried his rifle. The second man, a junior Lieutenant, who theoretically should have been in command, was unarmed and his tank crew jacket was in pieces, as the rest of his uniform. The third one was just armed with a handgun; he held it with both hands as if it was his last precious possession; he had no boots, and he was walking on a couple of bare feet covered in blood. They all were in pitiful physical conditions, more tired, dirtier and more stinky than any other average soldier on duty in Go@#!amned year 2000 Florida: they were obviously in shock.

“Who is in command here, where are you from, what unit do you belong to” Brigadier Spinesi shot questions like a machinegun in perfect MP style, trying to put some order in the panicked soldiers… to no avail.

The private with the assault rifle, who looked in the best conditions among the three, answered the NCO at a speed that made the burst of Spinesi questions sound like slow speech for mentally retarded:

“We come from Masaryk Town, about 20 kilometers south of here. We were with the 132th Regiment; I mean…attached. We got attacked by thousands… millions, of crazy people coming from the fuc$#ing deepest round of hell man!! They are like locusts for Christ sake!! We couldn’t maneuver the vehicles…no fuel…ammo almost at zero. We are from the cavalry platoon. We had to traverse manually…Do you believe me?? God in heaven! I think they are all dead down there…we couldn’t maneuver the vehicles! I’m not kidding man! A CENTAURO got flipped over by the mob men…do you believe that? A 20 tons vehicle flipped over by the mob, I’m telling you! I have no idea how we got out of there alive. Some guys tried to engage with their AAMG, but man; nothing could stop them…nothing, I tell you”!

“All right Private, you fu%#ing calm down now…I don’t understand what you are saying if you speak so fast”.

The man shut up, his scruffy haired head fell on his chest, and he started crying; then he nervously looked south like if the devil in person was about to come out of the woods.

Then, before Spinesi could articulate any more sentences, the Lieutenant, an emaciated dirty face with a tank pilot helmet and the stick of a radio microphone hanging from it without the microphone, looked at him and said:

“Are you guys stationed here?”

“Yes, Brooksville just beyond the trees out there”

“Pack up your shit and rush back to the beaches, or you are all dead”

“What”?

“The survivors of two cities are mounting north like a seaquake and submerging everything on their path. If they are not here yet is because most of them took the route to Spring Hill and God help Brigade HQ if they are there already. They are sick from diseases and radiation, made crazy by starvation to the point that they eat each other, and they have nothing to lose. They are hyped up by bands of hooligans, as sick and hungry as they are. Many of them are armed; the ones who are not are weapons themselves, women and children included. I heard all that four days ago from the regiment S-2. When the S-2 told me that, I had same idiotic skeptic expression you have now. When you see what I have seen, that expression of yours will be wiped out of your stupid CARABINIERE face”.

Spinesi was not a man who could easily be impressed. Sixteen years in anti mafia duty in Sicily, Naples and surroundings, tended to make a man quite a Man. Still, the expression of the almost beardless Lieutenant, which by the way kept his eyes firmly locked into his after having insulted him, froze Spinesi’s blood in his veins, and cooled off most of his MP pepper.

“Ok guys; let’s go now, we will see how we can restore you guys and you might want to explain everything to the Commander ok? Let’s go; a good meal, some smokes and then we’ll see what to do ok? We have quite a stronghold in Brooksville. When is the last time you guys ate something…”?

The stragglers climbed on the VM with no resistance, but none of them said another word. The party approached the southern prepared positions. One of the cavalrysoldiers looked at one sandbagged, guard post, and saw two American Sheriffs with stars, cowboy hat and all, manning an Italian MG 42/59, at which point turned to Spinesi, a disconcerted expression on his face; he probably thought that nothing made sense anymore in fu#@d up America, but he didn’t say a word. Then the VM stopped in front of Cantatore HQ Restaurant, where Spinesi told Rabito to drive on to the medication post with the bootless Soldier (the one in the sorriest state). Spinesi then asked to the other two cavalry men to follow him, and they all dismounted from the VM to go meet the boss.

In a lateral hall that Cantatore used as his planning room, he was discussing with U.S. Navy Chief Ralston with great surprise of Lieutenant Brusi, the stragller cavalry officer; Ralston had in fact changed his civvies with a more comfortable standard American BDU, which his men had brought back from their weapons and equipment recovery trip.

Cantatore stopped what he was doing and approached the three men; Spinesi nervously spoke first:

“Sir, this is Lieutenant Brusi, from the cavalry attached to the 132th Tank Regiment, and here is Private Costa. I took the liberty to send the third man to the hospital Sir”.

Cantatore gave an acknowledgment look at Spinesi, and asked about the conditions of the third man; then he concentrated himself on the new faces. Ralston stood behind, delicately avoiding mixing himself with the enemy internal business; he couldn’t have understood nuts anyway.

“Lieutenant”… Cantatore switched his look between the two sorry looking newcomers …”Costa”…he called the Private by his name and looked at both of them with a firm compassionate look… “Welcome to the CARABINIERI Company. What news from Colonel Bosio”?

Brusi raised his head when he heard the name of the 132nd commander, and the reassuring warm stare of that CARABINIERI captain in spit polished dress black uniform, restored some confidence in him. Private Costa was timidly trying to smile at Cantatore. They both forgot to salute formally.

“Signor Capitano”… Brusi continued…”with all probabilities Colonel Bosio is dead unless he managed to find a way out of the mess the regiment fell in yesterday. I cannot be sure of what happened once the human sea of refugees went past my platoon. We were in SOP screening deployment south of the battle line, when we got overwhelmed by an infinite mob rolling north like an overflowing river.”

Cantatore looked at Costa, to check on his body language, and then again at Brusi. Then he put up his sweetest tone:

“Are you telling me that unarmed civilians destroyed an armored regiment Lieutenant”?

“I don’t know what happened to the tanks Sir, but I can tell you what happened to my armored cavalry platoon”. The lieutenant voice started to tremble imperceptibly.

“Please do” Cantatore pushed him

“Well, Sir…my crew and the other two CENTAUROs were all intent to observe a mounting crowd advancing at may be 500 yards from us; a dreadful view Sir. They appeared and disappeared as they went up and down hill. I probably made the mistake not to keep my observation on 360 degree”…his eyes starting to become watery …”But you know, there was no military immediate threat, and that sorry show in front of us completely sucked up our attention I guess… you know…I mean…thousands of people coming at us. I think we were all petrified”.

Brusi paused, trying to recover his composure…Cantatore stone face right in front of him.

“Then all of a sudden from the lateral wooded terrain below us, a mass of crazy people assailed us before we could do anything. We got completely surprised by these guys. Some of them were armed with fire weapons, most of them with hatchets, clubs and knives. They managed to climb on our vehicles, before we could even ready our weapons.”

Tears were now running copiously from the Lieutenant face; the private kept his head down in silence.

“Sergeant Grazioli of number 3, tried to engage with the 50 cal. But it was too late. I saw him fall off the tank with an arm missing and spraying blood like a sacrificial lamb”. Brusi closed his eyes then he resumed:

“I think I got saved by a platoon of the 6th Tank Company that moved on our position, I don’t even know why. May be the noise, may be…I don’t know. All I know is that people that were assaulting my vehicle left and threw themselves at the ARIETEs. Before I could recover, we had been reached by the mob, we had been observing in the first place. They were even crazier than the others. They flipped my CENTAURO over like if it was a car, Sir, I am not kidding. That probably saved me, because I was thrown off the vehicle and I rolled down the hill, among the trees… I…I…”

Brusi lowered his head in disgust…

“… I hid until I heard the mess faded away”

Cantatore crossed eyes with Spinesi

“I don’t know what happened next, Sir. I don’t know what happened to the rest of the regiment, but I can tell you that they had only two choices: massacring the entire crowd; and I don’t know if they had enough ammunition for all of them Sir; or alternatively they could have locked themselves in the tanks and hope that the mob couldn’t flip a 55 ton tank Sir…even so”…continued Brusi after a short thinking pause,…”I don’t know what it could have happened to the soft vehicles, to the encampments, to the medication post. Fuel to maneuver Sir… none of us had enough…I don’t know Sir”.

Brusi didn’t move his eyes from the ground and “deactivated” himself like if someone had unplugged him.

Costa looked at Cantatore for the first time since he was introduced:

“Signor Capitano…” he said…”It is killing them all, or be killed Sir”.

“Ok men…you go get some rest now”…Cantatore tilted a head order to Spinesi…”We will talk again later. I will integrate you guys in one of my platoons here in town when you are all rested up and ready for action again”…Cantatore seriously doubted he could use those main again in combat, but letting them know wouldn’t have helped their mental status anyway.

After the cavalry departed with Spinesi, Cantatore rejoined Chief Ralston and the platoon commander in charge of the southern portion of the perimeter. He gave a brief summary to Ralston about the report he had received from Brusi. Ralston looked sincerely impressed by what he heard and asked Cantatore if he was still intentioned to defend the civilians in town.

“Chief Petty Officer”…said Cantatore giving him an expressive look…”I think W-E should defend this town. If we find a way to stop this flooding right here and right now, may be the rest of the rural population in central Florida will be spared a tragedy that maybe we can control”.

Cantatore gazed even more deeply in the Navy Seal eyes:

“Now Chief Ralston listen to me very carefully; I will ask a precise questions and I want your word that you will speak the truth even if you have to violate some protocols in sharing intelligence with the enemy”.

Ralston eyes widened a little; the stare of that little Italian Captain was like a sword pointed at your throat.

“ Is there any other American combat unit in the vicinity that can help us with this”?

“Captain…I…”

“Mr. Ralston”…Cantatore walked right in the face of the American, or better to his neck, being an entire head shorter than him…”you want my forces to try and do this…you gotta give me all the help we can get”…Cantatore almost came out with a perfect slang pronunciation for “you have got to give me” in the emotion of the moment.

Ralston looked down at Cantatore’s eyes…

“There is the…there is a National Guard Battalion…yes…the 274th…north of Hill ‘N Dale in the wooded area”.

“Is that all -Chief”? Cantatore looking at Ralston like if the American sailor was one of the suspects he routinely interrogated in Italy for robbery or drug related crimes.

“Ten days ago, I’ve heard that the remnants of a Marine Brigade were headed here to try and hit you guys on the left flank, but that was uncertain. At that time, the brigade was still engaged with the frogs…excuse me, with the French somewhere between Albany and Tallahassee”.

“Is there any chance that you could summon that National Guard Battalion you were talking about and have it come here”?

“Sir…they will laugh in my face…that battalion is deployed against your mechanized regiment on the way to Orlando”.

“May be a piece of that battalion”? Cantatore pressed the American. “Think about the mess we can have here in a day or two, Chief…That mechanized battalion is going nowhere…it’s out of fuel”.

“I’ll see what I can do capt’n…I promise”.

“I will never be able to thank you enough for that Chief. I will not forget”… Cantatore shot a smile at the American, who despite his efforts not to was more and more fascinated by the personality of the diminutive Captain.

“I’m going to change into my Battle Dress Uniform, Chief…I will join you outside in a minute and we can have a look together at the master plan and to that ideal MG nest position you were talking to me about this morning. Please send one of your men to talk to the National Guard…May be we manage to pull this off without committing any mass murder in this place Sir”.

Cantatore…gave a perfect military salute to Ralston and then shook his hand. He then turned on his heels and walked away.

Ralston looked at him for a couple of seconds:

“Captain Cantatore…what is it that makes you care so much about civilian…even…even foreign civilians”?

Cantatore stopped and slowly turned half of his body at the massive Navy Seal:

“I command a company of CARABINIERI, Chief…we are the most patient troops in the world, with civilians”.

“Three days ago one of your patrols used live ammo against civilians”.

“I’ve heard…they tell me it was a particular contingency…immediate life threatening situation …I also heard that some big American boys in civvies, but armed with military weaponry saved my men by gunning down all the remaining bad guys…Do you have any idea on who these heroic G.I. Joes could be”?

Cantatore smiled again, and he went out the door…

Picture
Master Chief Petty Office Ralston USN Seals and Captain Cantatore examine a map of the defenses south of Brooksville.
In the background, policemen re-equipped with standard issue BDUs. First left, Lieutenant Brusi, commander of "Platoon Porcupine" in the southern part of the perimeter, Second from left, with glasses: Petty Officer Second Class Joshua Talbot USN Seals

[Graebarde]

Interesting story, and I trust your gaming group is enjoying it as well. Fine write up of the campaign, and the photos do add to the story. Whether it is 'plausible' or not I won't get into. There are thousands of things about Twilight 2000 that I had problems swallowing. Keep gaming and writing. FB

[ambrafoxtrot]

Graebarde, thank you for the kind words.

We have been profoundly inspired by a thread on rpg.net (The Stalemate War), which I think is an unbeatable example on how to role play twilight 2000. We just modified some technical aspect of the rules, that our GM thinks are too player friendly: for example the entire damage/injury/recovery system has been modified and it is now much more strict. Lario for example, will think twice before he plays "Batman" again in a riot situation.

The plausibility of the strategic situation of the campaign is not the point. It is pure fiction...like say...The walking dead. The challenge is to involve the players in the story so much, that they forget about the premises. The important thing for us is to have the characters act and react like their real counterparts would in this very unusual situation. That is what makes the campaign different and enjoyable for us.

greetings

ambrafoxtrot

Like you rightly said, we are having a lot of fun with this, and we decided to post the story to give other people the possibility to have fun with us.

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 8…Armageddon in Brooksville (subpart 1)

Lario stood in front of one of the windows of the medication post building, while he slowly and methodically put on and adjusted his combat webbing. He looked down on the street and found it pretty quiet and almost deserted. He touched the bandages on the right side of his face and head, and twisted his right arm, to reassure himself that he was ready to get out of that place.

A total of 6 days spent In that stinky hole, with all respect for its occupants, had almost driven him crazy, and at any rate it was time to get out of that fu@#ed up town, and get back on the field. He tried to concentrate on the tasks he wanted to accomplish and give them an order: he probably had to find a way to contact 11th Bersaglieri first; let them know what was going on between their section of the salient and Tampa, and then rush back to brigade, and report for a new assignment. In a corner of his mind, he toyed with the idea of having the opportunity to be merged in some kind of unit for non conventional operations again and resume the kind of job he was best trained for.

He concluded that he would probably send Goia back to 11th and then he would find a way to head west and rejoin Brigade or Corps HQ. While he finished recovering his equipment, he looked up; blue terse sky and a beautiful shining sun. Both the sun and the sky seemed not to care at all about all the craziness that was raging on the planet underneath.

He turned away from the window and the first thing he saw was Kate, as usual oblivious to her surroundings, and completely dedicated to the morning routines with her numerous patients. Without even realizing it, he paused; his left uncovered eye giving her a long and unintended stare. Lario stood there for a while, before snapping out of his trance; his mind going back to the preparation course given to the 9th assault Regiment by the psyops gurus of the military intelligence:

“Prolonged staring is socially unacceptable for the average American, especially if the object of the stare is a woman. Don’t forget that one of the stereotypes that the Americans have about us, is that the Italian male is a womanizer, with scarce respect in general for the opposite sex. Therefore, on the field, you will behave at all times in a way that will discourage the above mentioned stereotype, which by the way, in your specific case, mutherfu#$ers, is not so far from objective truth”

Lario grinned inside, happy to be still able to do so, and commanded himself to look away from that prodigy of human engineering in nurse coat, assisting an aged woman victim of 1st degree burns to her chest and neck. He waited that she was done with that, meanwhile pretending to fixing and checking his equipment, and then, while she was walking out of the room, he rapidly approached her:

“Signora Bat(a)s”…Lario mispronounced her name with the best smile he could make out of his bandaged noggin, trying to summon all the English he could…”I wanted to thanke yu forr all yu dide for me. You have beenne so…so… … nicce, is…it right”.

Kate gave him the small talk blank smile:

“I really did not do all that much for you soldier…you were far from being one of the patients that needed a lot of attention. In any case, you are welcome. Please take care of yourself”. She turned back and left.

Lario stood there like an idiot for a short time, wandering if he had said anything wrong, or if he had given her any reasons to think he was a womanizer. Then, disconsolate, he took the stairs down to the first floor to check out. He was given back his helmet and his weapons, and went out on the street, where he saw Goia talking with some CARABINIERI at the check point which protected the medication post area.

“Sergeant you are out”? Goia left his temporary companions and trotted towards Lario who was fitting his rifle in the usual barrel down ventral position to carry it comfortably and at the same time to be able to ready it promptly.

“It looks like I am Goia…are you ready to resume business after the vacation”?

“Well I guess Sarge, as long as you don’t try to get me killed again, you promise”?

“I do not make plans Private, I just execute them. Let’s go find our blue Chevy truck, son…I need you to go back to your regiment and I need to talk to the officer in command here to see how I can get to Brigade, now that I know there is still a brigade operating around here”.

Goia was about opening his mouth to respond when suddenly turned his head towards revved up vehicle noise. Lario turned that way as well, and saw three dark blue CARABINIERI VMs, the first two with troops, and the last almost empty. They were rushing south at high speed. Lario looked at them while they were passing by, kind of leaning towards them to see if he could learn more about what they were doing. The half empty vehicle stopped by the check point and a senior Brigadiere dismounted quickly and run towards the men manning the check point; antiriot equipment hanging from his body:

“You guys… you on static assignement”?

“Yes Sir” answered the Appuntato commanding the post…”protection of the hospital, no matter what” Lieutenant Triano Orders”.

The Brigadiere run back to his vehicle, and before he could board it, Lario was on him:

“What’s going on Brigadiere”…he asked in a rush

The senior NCO looked at Lario’s rag head look…”Can you fight Sergeant”?

“Yes I can”

“Then get your buddy, and come with us, the wave of refugees we were waiting for has been spotted out south 15 minutes ago”.

Lario looked at Goia, who went pale. He looked back at the CARABINIERE hoping that the same wasn’t happening to himself:

“Goia let’s go” were the only words he managed to find; and they both climbed on the VM.

The drive to the “front line” was not a long one, but still the Brigadiere managed to provide Lario and Goia with a couple of Batons and arms ballistic protection…”That’s all I have… he shouted to make himself heard over the loud sound of the engine…are you going to keep your rifles”?

“I guess we will”…Lario shouted back.

“You guys be aware…the engagement rules are still yellow…lethal force only in case of immediate life threat”…Goia rolled his eyes…Lario tried to force a smile on him.

The platoon convoy reached the red zone a few minutes later and Lario immediately noticed the controlled chaos typical of a battle area before the storm. Troop movements all around, quick orders shouted here and there, while different groups of soldiers reached the assigned positions. They were at the southern edge of town. The trained eyes of the 9th operator immediately started to scan for details that could acquaint him with the tactical situation: he saw spotters in multiple high point observing south, an MG nest on the roof of a three story pub; an Augusta Bell 412 helicopter flying in circles a kilometer south of town.

From his ground level position, Lario could not see the “enemy” but he was sure that it was located more or less where the helicopter was fluttering around. An entire platoon of full geared anti riot CARABINIERI was aligned across the main access road to the town; one of the squads, alongside a Blockbuster store. VM vehicles, probably mobile reserves, were taking position at far sides of the battlefield.

“Shit”…Lario thought…”They are planning to fight this like a medieval battle…God in Heaven…they are going again for a Roman Legion hand to hand close affair…these fu#$ers CARABINIERI…crazy asses”.

Lario felt someone tagging on his sleeve: it was Goia, who was screaming something about Americans, and pointing at a building with a blue label…”CHASE BANK”.

Lario squinted at the building and felt his blood pressure dropping: he saw two American soldiers, yes helmets and unmistakable American Camo BDU: one with a binocular set and the other with a sniper rifle also scanning the horizon south ways.

Lario grabbed the first soldier he could put his hand on and shouted to him:

“What the f#$k is going on here…there is a yank sniper team in the middle of our outfit”… and pointed at the bank building. Then he realized that he was yelling profanities at a Lieutenant and he could do no better than turning his head back and forth between the officer and the sniper team.

“They are with us Sergeant…they are Navy Seals. They are going to help us with selective fire is some of the rag tags get too hot”.

“Whaaat”? Lario looked at the Lieutenant open mouthed?

“It’s complicated to explain right now Sergeant…I m Lieutenant Frigerio”…the CARABINIERE shouted over the general noise…”where are you coming from…do you have an assignment”?

“Sergeant Vailatti…9th Col. Moschin; I come from the hospital…tell me where to go”.

“Are you fit to operate”…asked Frigerio looking at Lario’s head.

“Yes Sir…I also have Private Goia with me here; we came all the way from Nobleton about one week ago, and were involved in the first round of riots”.

“I can see that Sergeant…All right…we can certainly use a raider from the 9th…you can join platoon PRAETORIAN, three streets east of here. They are already deployed with their vehicles…quick reaction reserve…ask of Brigadiere Capo Dalamazia… tell him that Frigerio sent you two to reinforce the troop…”

“Yes Sir…right away……………..Sir…how does it look”?

Frigerio grimaced…”Sergeant…watch that rifle of yours…engagement is yellow”.

“Yes Sir…good luck Sir”…Lario said while grabbing Goia and starting running east.


In the sunny chilly January morning, Sheriff Rogers and one of his deputies stood high on a warehouse roof with a megaphone, looking quite terrified at the crowd that was forming at the outskirts of the town; the distance between the CARABINIERI outer cordon and the mob being now a scarce half kilometer.

Petty officer second class Talbot US Navy Seals was observing the mob with his binoculars and exchanging details with his sniper Hubbard.

“Those fu#@ers” said Talbot…I can see armed people mixed up with the refugees. The armed thugs are clearly acting as instigators…look at those bastards…trying to keep the crowd compact”.

“Well, it is our job to pluck the bad fishes out of the bowl Josh…and it is exactly what we are going to do if it becomes necessary”.

“Look at that freaking mob Ray…Great God…I just hope that Ralston comes back in time with that fu@#ing National Guard Brigade, or battalion…or whatever it is…because leaving this huge mess in the hands of the remnants of what used to be a company of spaghetti bruisers, looks shaaaaky to me my friend”.

Sheriff Rogers brought the megaphone to his mouth:

“Attention people…Please I call for your attention”…he had to scream even in the freaking megaphone to have his voice audible over the crowd noise and the helicopter flying every now and then in the vicinity.

“This town is a military outpost in a war zone manned by the Italian military. The Italian troops that occupy the town chased north all the inhabitants…there is nobody in town”…Rogers paused and licked his lips…”There is nothing here other than front line Italian heavy infantry waiting for our counteroffensive from the north…This area is about to become a high intensity battle zone in a matter of hours…The American forces heading here will be able to take care of you as soon as they conclude their offensive operations against the Italian forces that occupy this area …please disperse and head south…you will be promptly assisted by whatever force will remain in command of this area after the combat that is about to begin…the Italian forces will shoot at sight on whoever tries to force the security perimeter of the of this military zone…There is an Italian Artillery battalion in town, which will open fire on you if you don’t disperse…please comply and all troubles will be avoided…you will be taken care, separately and promptly once you disperse and the military possession of this area is clarified”.

Sheriff Rogers had been instructed to repeat the message indefinitely until he could see that the crowd gave any signs to comply but he had to interrupt his “broadcast” as soon as the mob savagely started to charge with a horrifying and collective cry that more than covered the sound of the nearby loitering helicopter.


Continues…

Picture:
2nd Squad Platoon TESTUGGINE (Tortoise) Southern edge of Brooksville
January 2000

[schnickelfritz]

Excellent work! It's different and that's a good thing. Keep up the good work!

Not enough has been done in the past going into the flood of refugees out of the destroyed US cities....thanks for taking this on.

-Dave

[Graebarde]

Graebarde, thank you for the kind words.

We have been profoundly inspired by a thread on rpg.net (The Stalemate War), which I think is an unbeatable example on how to role play twilight 2000. We just modified some technical aspect of the rules, that our GM thinks are too player friendly: for example the entire damage/injury/recovery system has been modified and it is now much more strict. Lario for example, will think twice before he plays "Batman" again in a riot situation.

The plausibility of the strategic situation of the campaign is not the point. It is pure fiction...like say...The walking dead. The challenge is to involve the players in the story so much, that they forget about the premises. The important thing for us is to have the characters act and react like their real counterparts would in this very unusual situation. That is what makes the campaign different and enjoyable for us.

greetings

ambrafoxtrot

Like you rightly said, we are having a lot of fun with this, and we decided to post the story to give other people the possibility to have fun with us.

House Rules are necessary in many cases. I too think the damage, recovery need change, and have adopted the Morrow Project outline for Blood Points.. not perfect but much better than the Twilight rules. I like the realisitic aspects of the game..

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 9 Armageddon in Brooksville (subpart 2)

January 2000 Central Florida USA late afternoon

Able Seaman Raymond Hubbard cursed at the smoke clouds hovering around the “battlefield”; they prevented him from aiming with precision at the charging crowd. Hubbard’s idea was to put down the armed thugs who were directing the mass of desperate people right into the CARABINIERI containment line.

In front of the seals nest, two stories below, in the street, Brigadier Dalmazia was doing his best to encourage his troops; not an easy task: Dalmazia looked at the charging crowd, some 100 more yards away, and estimated that each squad of his antiriot troops would have to deal with no less than 40 people. He saw someone was carrying melee or improvised melee weapons, which could potentially be lethal tools in an out of control confrontation. Dalmazia also saw some people armed with handguns, which made the situation completely unpredictable. He didn’t understand why nobody was shooting at that crazy mass of people yet. He glanced at the first rank of his platoon and understood that his men were having very similar thoughts. Fear was clearly visible in the eyes of the CARABINIERI, behind their anti riot visors. “Platoooooon… Brace for impact…raise your shields prepare to disperse the crowd”. Dalmazia shouted orders to his platoon hoping somehow that he could retain any control after the crowd hit his men. He was not convinced he could.

“Cobra…qui e’ Alpha Bravo 205... informativo...la folla carica la linea principale, passo”
“Alpha…Roger passo”
Lieutenant Luigi Camagna informed Cantatore from his helicopter that the crowd was charging the containment line.

State trooper Galdrom, immediately saw that the situation was not going to lead to anything good, and started to feed an ammo belt in his Italian lent MG 42/59, while Sheriff Rogers was busy readying his radio set. “

At the same time, completely unnoticed north of Brooksville, a unit of horse mounted soldiers was approaching town. Two men riding in front were observing with binoculars. One of them was Chief Petty Officer William Ralston, and the other one was a Lieutenant Colonel of the National Guard. A Sergeant rode besides the two, with the unit radio set . The cavalry units dismounted just about near the first buildings and formed a defense perimeter, while Ralston and the brass, decided how to proceed.

Despite the scarce visibility and intermittent smoke obscuring his LOS, Hubbard tried to fix his aim on one of the armed thugs running alongside the mass of charging people, a metal jacked 7.62x51 bullet already chambered in the feeder of his M-21. Hubbard held his breath and gently squeezed the trigger. The familiar push of the recoil of the heavy rifle reverberated all along his prone body; almost a comforting feeling. The only thing Hubbard didn’t like was the outcome: the head of a teenager right to the left of the thug he aimed at exploded in a burst of red and whitish liquid, while his intended target was still running.
“Godd&#*it” Hubbard, cursed out loud without even realizing it.

At the same time Cantatore slipped out of the Thai Restaurant building he was using as a command post, in order to run towards the action. He dragged with him his portable radio and his only weapon: a Beretta 92SB…in America known as M-9.

Galdrom and Rogers were finally ready to join combat if necessary. Their MG nest was placed on the left flank of the containment line at a 90 degree angle with it: was the crowd to overwhelm the containment line, they could shoot in its main body, and hopefully bottle up its impetus. Then Rogers saw a figure in the crowd going down in a pool of blood and several people stopping around it, some people fell down trying to take cover. Other people tripped on the ones that suddenly stopped causing considerable confusion in the mass.

Hubbard’s M-21 barked again multiple times, the crazy crowd being now at less than 100 yards. This time the Seals Sniper did better, and one of the armed agitators had her left leg almost cut in two parts as two bullet went through it, crushing muscles and bones. A third bullet through the chest put an immediate end to her misery. On the negative side, another stray bullet maimed an unarmed man arm. He stopped on his tracks before looking at his stump and was immediately stampeded by who followed. This second carnage scene discouraged the crowd; everybody tried to take cover as best as they could. Hubbard ceased fire and swiftly and efficiently went back to an aiming stance.

Despite Ralston objections, Lt. Colonel Bell decided against warning the Italians of the presence of his unit. The occasion to take them by surprise and conquering Brooksville in the middle of the Ariete Brigade salient was too tempting not to be taken into consideration. Ralston, whose seals team was still technically surrounded by Italian troops, had to come to terms with Bell’s orders, and an assault team of the 274th NG Brigade started to move from building to building after having left a small detachment to guard their mounts outside the city “walls”: tactical objective, the Italian hospital site downtown.
Once more…Ralston tried to convince his superior that the Italians were engaged in trying to stop the rampage of refugees from Tampa and Petersburg and that it would have been advantageous for both party to unite forces, but Bell didn’t want to listen. He would not be accused of cooperation with the enemy period. His troops would take the town and deal with the refugees from their new conquered positions.

“Sir my team is still fighting with the Italians on the southern side. When they realize what we are doing they might attack and kill my men”.
“Your men ain’t that easy to kill chief. We take control of downtown…then all the dagos surrender and we mop up whatever is left of the crowd.
“Sir you don’t understand…I”
“It’s you that don’t understand Ralston…I have the occasion to disrupt the supply of the Italian expedition force right here, right now…we take this town…all they have left from here to Orlando is permanently cut off…”

Ralston stared at Bell not particularly impressed.

“You have your orders Chief Petty Officer”
“Aye Sir”…Ralston retorted, and carried out with the preparation of the movement.

On south side, Sheriff Rogers looked horrified at the scene in front of him: civilians all over the place trying to crawl in cover somewhere, women screaming trying to cover their children with their bodies; the CARABINIERI helicopter sweeping over the scene with its unbearable noise; the omnipresent smoke all around; several people down in pools of blood, motionless: all the nightmares a cop could ever imagine, bundled in single view. Desperate with mounting frustration, Rogers grabbed his megaphone once again:
“Attention people, please stay down I am going to try and summon some rescue for the injured…we need you to cease any aggressive action and to stay in place…no rescuing effort could be initiated if you do not cooperate…Attention people, please……”

-Comment by one of the players to the Game Master-:
Poor fuc*&ng Rogers…he still thinks is working in his prewar little cute town. I would tell him where to stick his damn bullhorn.

Lieutenant Brusi was on sentry duty inside the building that the CARABINIERI were using as their field hospital. Inside, lieutenant medic Farro, with the tireless help of Kate Bates, a local American nurse, was taking care of various injured people and several dying ones from the previous clashes.
Brusi was scanning the area directly in front of the building when he noticed several figures approaching, moving from cover to cover. The newcomers wore American uniforms and they did not seem to have seen him in cover behind the window.
Brusi did not hesitate…he alarmed the personnel in the building and opened up on the advancing men outside with his AR-70 assault rifle. One of the assailers went down while others managed to take cover behind a building on the right. The response from the Americans was instantaneous; from concealed positions, a series of muzzle flashes appeared and several bullets hit the wall and the window he was hiding behind. Brusi was just extremely lucky not to be hit. Instinctively he slipped in cover behind the wall, panting and cursing and hoped that the Americans didn’t have a LAW. “Too many of them” was Brusi’s next thought.

Screams of panic continued to hail from the mob, most of it now prone crawling away from the road. Hubbard inspecting the situation through his scope could clearly see some armed people; he even spotted several military rifles. Many people were now pinned down and showed reluctance to resume the charge. Hubbard found himself thinking it could not last forever.

Chief Ralston managed to slip through the defensive fire and to reach the external wall of the hospital building; he stuck to it and brought his MP-5 sub machinegun online aiming at the window from where the hostile was shooting. He quickly pointed his finger at a position behind him alongside the same wall and two more American began their rush from the position they occupied. The hostile appeared for a second just to direct a long burst at the assailers, and Ralston quickly double tap the window…no hope to hit the target from that position – the plan was to disturb him enough though. Master Sergeant Fiedler and Lt. Colonel Bell himself zig zagged through the bullets hail and managed to get in position behind the navy seal. At this point, Ralston thought, it was matter of storming the building. Close quarter combat.

Lieutenant Brusi realized that his resistance efforts were doomed; with only eight rounds in his AR 70 magazine and the American fire team behind the door, his choices were to be a dead hero or living prisoner. Dead hero, he thought, was good for the movies, so he limited himself to shout to medic Lieutenant Farro that the hospital was under attack by American troops, and that they probably didn’t stand a chance.

Farro was tending at some wounded when he heard the firefight that was happening outside. At first he thought that the crowd of refugees had overwhelmed the defenses, but when Lieutenant Brusi informed him that a commando of American troops was assaulting the building, he realized that he had to pass the information that the hospital was under attack by American troops. He grabbed the radio that he kept always close to him, and got on the tac net:

“Qui e’ November Hotel…a tutti. L’ospedale e’ sotto attacco di truppe americane ...ripeto...sotto attacco di truppe americane...resistenza non possibile...mandate rinforzi...passo”.

For Petty Officer Talbot and Sheriff Rogers this transmission got lost in the foreign language chatter that had been going on the Tac frequency since the beginning of the action…but for all the Italians leaders involved in the battle, it meant much more than that. Besides, Rogers was too busy trying to convince the crowd to drop their weapons and surrender to be able to even listen to his radio.

Roger’s efforts were only partially rewarded, as part of the crowd listened to his pledge, but a second group did not, and resumed its charge against the CARABINIERI antiriot line which guarded the access to town.

Lario was taken by complete surprise by the news that the hospital was under attack. In a fraction of a second, images of the wounded, caught in a firefight danced in his mind, not to mention that the defense of the hospital was almost no existent. What kind of bastard could give an order to attack a hospital? Lario didn’t hear any answer yet on the net following Farro’s communication that the building was under attack, but he assumed that an order to relieve the hospital would come soon.

Suddenly he remmbered that Kate Bates was in the hospital as well.

“Davide…put the vehicle in motion and let’s rush to the hospital”…Lario ordered to private Goia
“What do you mean Sergeant? Our orders are to stay here as a tactical reserve for the containment line”
“Forget it…I am giving you a direct order…Drive to the fuc*^ing hospital!”
“Sergeant…you are going to get me in trouble…I…”
“Move this vehicle…Now” Lario expression did not admit more reluctance on Goia’s part.

Ralston moved along the wall of the hospital building, MP-5 stock against his shoulder, ready to drop whoever would appear in his path. The National Guard Assault team was right behind him. He quickly checked the main door, and realized that was locked and barred with furniture and other heavy objects. Without moving his cheek from his gun, he yelled to the occupants of the building:

“Surrender and come out with your hands up…we have control of downtown Brooksville. You are completely surrounded. Surrender immediately so that we can avoid any trouble for your wounded and for our civilians in the building”.

Cantatore could not believe to what he heard. Who in the hell did attack his unit in the back. Farro clearly talked about American regular troops, so the only answer could be Ralston and whoever he managed to summon to come help the CARABINIERI.

“Nice help indeed” thought Cantatore while he was walking to join the containment line. He brought the mike to his mouth, his adrenaline surging at the view of the mob charging now at less than 50 yards from his men:

“November Hotel, this is Cobra: defend the hospital, but do not…repeat do not put civilian or patient lives at risk. You have permission to surrender as soon as that risk become real…I’ll try to send you some reinforcements, but I can’t guarantee it…over”

“Roger that Cobra…out” Farro rushed down to the first floor of the hospital, where Brusi had taken cover behind the reception desk of the hospital hall.

“Luca…the orders are not to put civilian lives at risk…I suggest we surrender the building to the Americans”

His peer was not sure about what to do…but he was down to eight bullets in the AR-70 magazine, and he and the Medic officer would be reduced to their 92s once he went winchester with the assault rifle. Moreover they did not know how many attackers they were facing.
He gave a prolonged stare at Lieutenant Farro, and came to his decision…”ok…let’s do it”.

continues...

Picure #1 Able Seaman Raymond Hubbard Zeroing his M-21 before the action
Picture#2 One of the VM-90s of 17th CARABINIERI coy.
Picture#3 Medic Lieutenant Giuseppe Frigerio in a prewar picture

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 10 Armageddon in Brooksville (subpart 3)


Cantatore displayed quite a degree of coolness under adverse conditions: with the mob at less than 50 yards from his position, he listened quite calmly to Lario’s communication that he was leaving tactical reserve to rush to the hospital. He didn’t even bother to answer, no time for that…the charging mob was too close now. The thought that putting himself right in line of containment had been a bad idea was more and more a certainty now. He would lose control of the battle…but he also understood what kind of danger his CARABINIERI faced, and that it was his job to bolster their morale with his presence. Besides, if the containment line gave, there would not have been much more of a battle to control.

20 yards behind, up on the Chase Bank building roof, Hubbard didn’t have any more spare time to aim…so far he had tried to shoot accurately, picking only armed people, but the crowd didn’t stop. He abandoned any finesse and just let go into the mass. More targets fell squirting blood as his M-21 went off multiple times. Talbot watched horrified the fact that the mob, enraged instead of panicked, or a mix of the two, still would not stop. He couldn’t find anything better than adding to the carnage with his MP-5, downing some more refugees just before they impacted the CARABINIERI line.

Lario, half body exposed out of the top hatch of the VM-90 that Goia was driving at crazy speed, found himself shouting on the radio.

“November Hotel…this is Relief force coming to your rescue. Do not surrender…repeat do not surrender…we’ll be there in minutes now”.

Goia had an extremely hard time to race the VM downtown Brooksville, avoiding barricades, loose rubble, and occasional fires still burning from previous clashes, but he did his best to get the vehicle to the hospital as soon as possible. On the positive side…the total absence of traffic.

While Goia struggled to keep the VM on the road, William Ralston came to the conclusion that he would indeed have to storm the building by force, to occupy it. He still didn’t like the idea of “backstabbing” the CARABINIERI, but Bell’s orders were precise and he was a professional: he would obey those orders. Ralston slipped along the front wall of the hospital and under the window from where the Italians had previously opened fire. He gestured to Bell and Fiedler to take position on the opposite side.

“We’re going to go on three…you guys keep behind me and cover my blind spots right and left; don’t shoot at anything in front of me…I’ll take care of that. Be aware of possible civilians…if you have to shoot…look first”.

The two National Guardsmen looked worried but determined to follow Ralston instructions. Even Bell looked resigned to follow Ralston’s tactical leadership.

“Cobra this is Alpha Bravo…we are now bingo fuel and we will head towards Hernando Beach…Will come back if we can refuel…God Bless you all…over and out”.

“Alpha Bravo…roger that...disengage and good luck…out”. Cantatore looked at the Blue and white helicopter leaving Brooksville. The noise of its rotor was now matched by the screaming crowd very close to impact his defences.

Rogers did not dare to shoot on the charging crowd with a heavy MG…at least not until he thought that the Italians were fried or he received a direct order to do so. Impact being imminent now, everything was in the hand of the containment line. Moments before, he even thought to go to assist that part of the crowd that stopped and accepted to lay down weapons, but he had to abandon the idea when the other half of the refugees resumed their charge.

Lario and Goia came in view of the hospital building a couple of seconds after the American fire team had forced its way in. And they really did force their way.
Lieutenant Brusi had waited a second too much to surrender to the Americans; as soon as Ralston jumped over the window, he saw him crouched behind a desk with his assault rifle pointed in his direction. Once more the double tap shooting technique proved to be efficient in close quarter combat; the first MP-5 bullet missed by a hair Brusi’s head, but the second one hit Brusi right in his mouth, shattering five of his teeth, and exiting from his neck, just by miracle not severing anything vital. That did not prevent Brusi to go down in shock and being incapacitated.
Lieutenant medic Farro, paralyzed by the mental shock himself, was saved by Master Sergeant Fiedler, who had rushed into Ralston’s tail; Fiedler had the presence to yell at Farro to drop his weapon and raise his hands, and Farro had the presence not to force the American to repeat twice.

Cantatore, overcame any survival instinct, raised his club and threw himself in the line with his men, second apart from impact with the charging crowd. He wasn’t expecting what he saw: the line broke ranks and a human wave came right at him. It turned out that the CARABINIERI in antiriot gear just did not stand the prospective of fighting a crowd for a big part armed with hatchets, knives and other improvised melee weapons, not to mention some individuals armed with handguns. Once they had a detailed view of what they were facing, the CARABINIERI turned and fled. The few that did not realize in time what their comrades were doing were caught by the crowd and died with various degree of quickness. Among these, Brigadier Dalmazia, who lost his helmet in the stampede, and had his skull crushed. Cantatore was just marginally luckier: the mob run over him without even noticing that he was there; with multiple fractures in his rib cage and various minor wounds in other parts of his body, Cantatore was just left bleeding in the street in critical conditions. In his last seconds of consciousness he wandered what he had done wrong.

Picture #1 Ralston moments before storming the hospital
Picture #2 Cantatore's men with a scared look moments before been charged by the mob

[ambrafoxtrot]

Armageddon in Brooksville (Subpart 4)

Goia came to an abrupt stop in front of the hospital blocking the VM front wheels in the process. Despite the dust raised by the sudden stop, Lario managed to glimpse inside the open building door and even though he didn’t manage to examine the details, he could see things not exactly going well for the Carabinieri.

Both he and Goia jumped off the VM at once, and made the rapid dash to the external wall, praying that the occupants of the building were too busy with their own business to care about the noise they had made with their open approach.

Ralston quickly dispatched Master Sergeant Fiedler upstairs to check the situation, while covering Lt. Frigerio who was being packed up by Lieutenant Colonel Bell.

Surely but carefully Fiedler got up to the first floor, assault rifle on the ready, just to discover that there were no hostiles up there; all he found was a nurse trying to protect the wounded and the patients in their beds. The two exchanged a look before Fiedler went on with his floor inspection.

Lario had just noticed that one of the Americans inside had turned around and noticed the VM outside, in the middle of the street, doors opened and engine still running. The American started to walk towards one of the windows once he assured himself that Frigerio was under control.

“No time to waste” though Lario while staring anxiously at Goia.

Lario and Goia looked at each other with an expression of mutual understanding on their blackened faces.

“To my three…One…Two…Go!” Lario said with no hesitation.

Ralston turned his head to check the situation and noticed a detail in the street that wasn’t there when they run their attack at the hospital; an Italian vehicle in the open space between it and the little fountain in the square. He was cautiously approaching the closest window to check the situation, when from the main door a figure materialized in front of him. Before he could even think about a reaction, the barrel in front of the figure flashed and that was the last thing that his brain registered in his lifetime.

Lario dropped the first Yankee with two precise shots from his M-16, both landing in the man’s chest, and then leveled his weapon on the other American who occupied the main room. Before he could finish the movement with his rifle, the man had already raised his hands. He looked on his right and understood why; Goia was right there, with his AR-70 already leveled at the head of the enemy soldier. Lario whispered to Goia to keep the American under control.

Goia limited himself to put his left finger on his mouth perpendicularly, using his right arm to keep his weapon online; a suggestion that the prisoner followed without discussions.

Promptly Frigerio walked towards Lario and informed him that the last member of the American team was upstairs, and that two more had been killed during the attack. The Italians had one casualty as well.

Lario pointed at Goia and then turned his finger towards the prisoner. Then pointed at himself and raised the finger up; he would go upstairs and clear the floor while Goia kept the American under control.

Lario approached the staircase and carefully started to climb, his M-16 aimed right ahead. Before Lario could reach the top of the stairs though, things went south.

Exploiting a moment of distraction by Goia, who was trying to untie Frigerio’s hands, Lt. Col. Bell tackled Goia at the same time screaming a warning for Fiedler upstairs.

Fiedler rushed back towards the staircase but too late. He found Lario waiting for him and got a bullet in his left arm, which made him drop his weapon and go down in pain and shock. Kate screamed and ducked under a table; at the same time Goia , who had himself dropped his AR-70 from the impact with Bell, tried to block him, but to no avail. The American managed to break free and flee away. Goia did not chase him, worried about what could have happened on the first floor.

Quickly Lario checked on the American lying on the floor, noticing that he was alive, unconscious, and copiously bleeding from his arm. He crossed eyes with Kate, still under the desk. He put aside his weapon and extended an arm towards the woman.

“Its okey misss. All finishd…no mor problems…all finishd”.

Kate exploded at once, as if she couldn’t keep cool anymore after what had probably been weeks and weeks of prolonged stress.

“You go to hell bastard !!...this is a hospital !! You could have provoked a disaster. What gives you the right…” she turned her head away in the attempt to hide the full extent of her emotions to the Italian.

Lario understood may be 5% of what the woman said and that was good for his spirit, as he mistakenly thought that she was probably just scared to death. He threw his M-16 behind his back and approached Kate. He tried to hug her in the attempt to comfort her, and being very careful not to give any other impression. Kate did not openly oppose him, but she retracted, clearly making Lario understand that she did not like him or the situation he brought there.

At the Same time Goia cautiously peeked above the railing calling for Lario. “You ok sarge?” is everything ok up there?”

“Come on up Davide…the floor is clear” Lario turned his head towards his mate…”Are the Carabiniere and the Yank ok downstairs?”

Picture: Kate doing her job

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 11 Plans

“Gone...What do you mean gone?” Asked Lario.

“I’m sorry Sir…while you were clearing the first floor, the American officer surprised us. I tried to block him, but he managed to escape.” Goia paused for a second…”I wouldn’t be too worried sergeant considering the situation out there, I don’t think he has many chances to survive anyway.”

“I’m not concerned with that Goia…not at all…but the man could have provided useful intelligence for us about what is going on around here.”

Goia lowered his eyes to the floor in discomfort but didn’t sayanything.

“It’s done by now…let’s concentrate on what we have to do next to try and stay alive. This place is starting to stink too much Davide. We have to leave this miserable hole and put ourselves in motion. Our safety rests on our capability to move, until we get back to battalion…you know what I mean…a disciplined body of troops, with heavy weapons and all that.”

Lario looked past Goia outside the building and with relieve he noticed that the VM was still where they had left it. Quickly he run to it and got on the company radio net. He didn’t have any call sign or knowledge of the Carabinieri radio procedures; nevertheless he tried to see if he could contact anybody… to no avail.

Having failed to contact anybody Lario briefly stopped to think…and as much as he tried to, he didn’t manage to find a single positive aspect in the situation. After having pndered options for a while, he looked to the first floor windows; he rushed back in the building flew up the stairs and found Kate taking care of Master Sergeant Fiedler’ arm, as usual oblivious to anything else. She had managed to stop the bleeding and to treat the shock, but the 5.56 bullet had badly fractured ulna and radio and Kate thought that Fiedler needed surgery to be patched up properly.

Lario observed her silently for a minute and then snapped into action:
In his rudimentary English he tried to explain her that they had to evacuate the site and leave town before the mob could get to them. He proposed to use the APC to move the transportable patients.

“We have only one movable patient here plus this man you have just injured” said Kate horrified by the thought of abandoning the hospital. “All the others, Americans and Italians cannot be moved without grave risks for their lives. Besides, there is no way that we can move them with only one vehicle.”

Lario didn’t get all of that, but understood that Kate didn’t want to leave the wounded to their destiny. He called for Lt. Frigerio to help him with Kate, and when she saw Frigerio coming up, she looked at both Italians firmly…”If you are men and soldiers, you will defend this hospital and its occupants. You are responsible for this place.” Lario for once understood most of what the woman said, rolled his eyes and walked away in frustration. Then he looked at Frigerio:

“Sir we’ll all die in this building if we don’t get out of here…your company his finished…nobody answers to any radio calls. The mob coming from Tampa and S. Petersburg has probably killed everybody who tried to stop them from raiding the city. We’ll be next if we stay here.”

Frigerio said nothing, and turned back to Kate. She informed him that Fiedler would need him to operate on his arm, before he risked losing it, at which request Frigerio snapped in frustration as well. He refused to use any precious medical supply to set up instant surgery on Fiedler’s arm, and told the nurse that they would not have the time to do that anyway. Disappointed, he walked away from Kate and passing by Lario once more, before heading back downstairs, told him to collect any spare weapons and to set up a defense position.

Lario looked at the Medical officer going downstairs with disapprobation, then he pondered if it was the case of putting a bullet in the back of that crazy Medic ass and go on with what was the most logical thing to do. Disgusted with himself, he turned at Kate, then looked all around himself; the dirty building, the wounded Carabinieri and civilians, some of them awake and looking at him, some others sleeping or sedated. For a second he didn’t know anymore where he was. The place smelled horribly; a mixture of medical product and rotten body parts or something like that. It was difficult to believe that that place was in the United States of America; Beirut, Mogadishu may be…but not the US.

Lario snapped out of his trance, sat down on the floor and thought for some minutes. Then he walked back to Kate, who was tending at a young woman in some kind of pain, and tried to put together all the English he could muster:

“Verry welll Kate. We have work to do. I will take inside the truck…you put the people in it we can move, and in it all the medicines. We take down…in the…the…(Lario could not think about basement)… underground all the wounded… then we fight if we have to fight. If things become bad…we enter the vehicle and run.” Lario paused for a couple of seconds and looked at Kate. “If we must go …you come …uh…no matter what.”

Kate said nothing about the last sentence, and limited herself to start gathering all the (few) medical supplies left in one place.

While Kate was busy with that task, Lario went down and updated the party about his plans. He asked everybody to help him move the wounded in the basement. It was a labor of patience and care, especially with the ones in worst conditions. Then they gathered all the weapons and ammunitions left, and Lario assigned defense positions. Lario and Goia would check the three exposed sides of the building and give the alarm in case hostiles approached. Frigerio would intervene as tactical reserve if one side got more threatened than the other. Lario redistributed one of the two Assault rifles left by Bell and Fiedler to Frigerio, kept the other in reserve, and put aside the MP5 taken away from Ralston, with the intention of giving it to Kate as a last resort personal defense. A lighter weapon he thought; one that an unskilled person could use better than a full military assault rifle. He also pondered whether to give Kate his own M-9 as a last, last resort weapon.

They worked for something like an hour, praying that nobody would approach the hospital before they were done, and after they moved all the people and organized all positions, Lario went for the last piece of the show: he ordered outside everybody not in the basement, got himself into the VM and tried to enlarge the main hospital doors by ramming them, with the aim of getting the vehicle inside. It took three attempts, before the door structure and the wall beside it gave in, with the added bonus that the building didn’t collapse. On the negative side, the front of the vehicle was so battered, that Lario didn’t know if it would ever start again. He sealed the hole in the walls with the vehicle back and had the movable wounded (Fiedler and an American civilian teenager) into VM through the left lateral door. To the young man, Lario gave Lt. Frigerio's handgun and told him that he might ask him to fight. Fiedler on the other hand was too much beaten to be of any use, so Lario asked him to stay in the VM and wait.
All that done, Lario gathered all the personnel and explained again what the defense plan were. On that matter, Lt. Frigerio gladly let Lario decide.

Picture:
Brooksville Alamo hospital before Lario modified it with the VM

[kcdusk]

WoW! Long write up, give me some time to read all this before i put some comments down.

[Muti]

This work is really well written. I also notice that for Cantatore you use the picture of a real Capitano of Carabinieri (the ranks on his shoulders are correct).

Just for information, the Capitano in your picture is Gianluigi Di Pilato from Compagnia Ventimiglia recently transferred to Compagnia Forlì-Cesena.

[ambrafoxtrot]

Muti
Thanks for the nice words.

I've been interested in the Carabinieri since 9th of June 2009, when the director of CIA said: "You really are the best at what you do".

[ambrafoxtrot]

kcdusk

Take your time and welcome on board

[Muti]

ambrafoxtrot,

ma sei italiano? Are you italian? :)

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 12: The Battle of January 11

Lario was on watch for the first two hours of the night and he was scanning the surroundings with his binoculars. Darkness and silence were almost total except from the crackling noise of some fires burning nearby and some barking dogs, God only knew how they were still alive. He could not believe that nobody had stormed the building yet. He continued to repeat to himself that there was no reason why he should be still there and that he actually shouldn’t be there.

Brooksville once a logistic supply point for the Ariete Armored brigade advancing towards Orlando, was by now nothing more than a ghost town with no more tactical use than a big empty hole. He didn’t have any idea of what the situation of the brigade was. All he knew for certain was that the MP coy had been destroyed or at least dispersed by the attack of the panicked mob coming from Tampa Bay and St. Petersburg and that the logistic company that used to be in town had been used to man a cordon around the north outskirts, and now he had to presume that it was gone too, given that since he come into town a week before he didn’t see anybody of that unit either.

He was pondering that his mission would have to be either to try to go back to the 11th Bersaglieri battalion with whom he had a brief contact the previous week after barely escaping an encounter with American infantry, or even better to head back to Hernando Beach where brigade command was supposed to be located. He didn’t particularly liked this second solution because he had a member of the 11th with him private Goia, and the commander of the unit, Major De Gaetano, gave him the specific task of exploring the route from Nobleton to Tampa and report back the situation. He was the only survivor of a detachment of the 9th Parachute Regiment, and he wasn’t happy.

While Lario was weighing his options, sudden noise came from downtown in a crescendo of screams punctuated by occasional fire weapons staccatos. Lario senses sprung into activity at full regime in less than a second accompanied by a surge of adrenaline which shook away any trace of sleepiness. The more time passed the louder the noise became and he was matter of seconds before Goia was at Lario’s side asking for information on what was going on. Lt. Frigerio popped out of the basement where together with Kate was taking turns sleeping and tending at the patients of the hospital. Screaming and clanging raised and rose in intensity to a point where the distance didn’t let louder volume to be heard. Lario judged that the theatre of the action was a mile, mile a half westbound of their position, so no immediate danger for them yet. He looked at Frigerio, who meanwhile reached him and Goia staring out of the window.

Lario stood for a minute or two to hear if the noise got closer, but it did not. Then he suddenly turned towards his mates:

“gotta go for a patrol gentlemen. This could be something big happening. We need to know what’s going on, and fast.”

“I’ll be right with you” said Goia “Lemme get my equipment.”

“Negative” Lario retorted “you stay here in case anything happens…besides, I move better on my own.”

Goia was about to protest at Lario’s decision but he was already up packing his ammo and his M-16. He quickly completed his preparation with some more camo on his face, and securing his equipment to the BDU so that nothing would clang.

Lario looked back at Frigerio before slipping out the window.

“If I’m not back by dawn Lieutenant, please consider the possibility to evacuate and reach the 11th up north. Goia knows the precise location of the unit. If they are not there anymore, there will be instructions to follow cached somewhere on site.

Frigerio limited himself to a nod and whished Lario luck. Kate appeared from the door leading to the basement and exchanged a quick glance with Lario. He smiled at her and took off the window, quickly disappearing in the dark.

Lario moved tactically. He dashed From building to building pausing often to listen to possible dangers around him; but it felt like the town was deserted if was not for the bedlam coming from west. It sounded like those town summer fests, where all people are gathered in one spot and the rest of the place is dead. Only problem was that he wasn’t hearing band music, cheering and firecrackers but screaming and firearms noise.

After he passed a couple of more blocks, the night started to be pierced by red and black glazes of fires, projecting sinister shadows on his path and the noise was of course raising in intensity; the more Lario approached the source of the noise and the more details he could hear. He moved another two blocks and he started to recognize that some kind of big riot was going on. Then he came to an intersection that opened on a fairly big open space containing what it seemed to be a school or something like that. And the scene that presented in front of him could have been taken from hell itself.

A full scale medieval battle was going on; three different roads converged on the site and all of them were crammed with people trying to make their way to the main theatre of the battle. Luckily for him, Lario approached the place from a housing compound, crossing backyards and fences, which kept him out the lines of confluence to the carnage. People were fighting with any kind of real or improvised weapons imaginable, from spears to firearms. Some cars were on fire, which gave a spectral tone to the scene, and so were a couple of wood houses on the east boundary of the open ground theatre of the clash. At each charge a number of people remained motionless on the ground; some stabbed or crushed by hand weapons of various sorts, some other hit by bullets fired with any apparent directions from different locations within the crowd. It was a devastating looking mess, something in between a British colonial engagement with some natives and a giant stadium riot so common in Europe before the war. Lario didn’t find anything better to do than hiding under a fence, in a little ditch to try and understand exactly what that shit was all about. At the distance he stood from the massacre, about 250 yards, the noise and view could have taken directly from Dante’s Inferno.

After 20 minutes that Lario was observing the scene, he could not yet make out the dynamic of the battle, which didn’t give any sign to cease; neither he could tell who was who in the giant fur ball, but at a certain point he noticed that the clash was taking a decisive turns and that the struggle was diminishing in intensity as if one part was about to be finally defeated. Before that could happen though, he saw a new surge of combatants coming down from the opposite side of the school and with horror, heard a large group of people running from behind his position towards his very position.

Lario quickly rolled on his side and managed to crawl behind the porch of the house he was hiding close by and fortunately for him none of the new comers had the time of the presence of noticing him. The party run right past him, silent enough, and as far Lario could see, well armed with shotguns, pitchforks, iron bars and other assorted weapons.

It seemed like the stream of newcomers were very well prepared and that they were acting under some kind of either organized or preplanned direction, because as far as Lario could tell, their intervention put an end to the battle. Coming from two different directions, they hit the mob in the square in a flank and in the back, and what it seemed to be the winning faction till minutes before, got quickly and promptly routed by the reinforcements intervening in the clash. After brief resistance, the succumbing part was slaughtered by the winners and very few managed to flee and to avoid death. Those few were chased by the winners, but this part of the action quickly exited Lario’s line of sight.

The scene that Lario had in front of him in the aftermath of the battle was probably the most apocalyptic he had ever seen in his life, as he evaluated that the biggest hospital of a big town in peace time could not receive the number of wounded and mauled of such a battle, many of them still moving and crawling on what had been the battlefield. Lario couldn’t see all the details from that distance, but the noise of the clash was being substituted by the moans of the wounded and the screams and cries of the people that try to give first help to those people. Lario could smell the blood even at that distance and no pre war training could have prepared him for what he was witnessing. This was the apex of human desperation and ferocity bundled together, he thought, before his brain managed to resume tactical thinking. He thanked God that he had been far enough from the action not to be able to see the closest details of the effects of the struggle on those bodies, and slowly but surely he started to move backwards in order to leave the site. He needed to go back to the medical post of what remained of the 8th Carabinieri company and convince everybody to get the hell out of that town.

picture 1 A father trying to get his family out of the mess
picture 2 Lario's point of view

[kcdusk]

I’m really liking it. A big twilight 2000 thing for me was the whole “soldier in another country” theme (USA soldiers in Europe). I’ve never really gotten into the USA based modules. But reading these write ups, its great. An Italian soldier caught on USA soil is the reverse of what I normally play. Also, no offence intended, but the English used for the write ups is probably unintentionally adding to the fun of reading it. I’ve got this crazy Italian accent in my head as I read the not-quite correct English. Again, I think it adds to the enjoyment. Its written well enough that its easy to know whats happening, but imperfect enough that it has a real Italian flavour to it – its great.

I’ve read the first 3 parts of the story, and the story itself has been pretty good so far. Atmospheric, a real T2K feel to it. Theres a connection with the lone soldier we’re following (Lario), especially early on when he is travelling on his own. I’m looking forward to reading allot more.

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 13 Reunion

Trying to relax his battered muscles, Lario hid himself as deep as he could in the miserable ditch hole he had occupied for the last half an hour. It was his official improvised OP.

“Cristo !!...what a fuc&ing disaster…” Lario glanced once more at the scenario in front of him. He grabbed the binoculars once more and gave the gloomy scene another scan.

It was pitched dark, but the glare of the raging fires in the square in front of him allowed a decent vision of his target area. Ignoring pains and aches all over his body and the overwhelming sense of prostration, he gave another good look at what was happening around.

People going in and out of a building and carrying….”What?; frames, pictures, paintings or something like that, out of a building very close to a fire. The recovery volunteers lined up the objects carefully on the ground differentiating them by type.

“Interesting”

Engine sounds came out from west of the position; some pickups appeared soon after, and people started to carefully load injured folks on them. Some of the drivers came out to confer with the people on place; others gave assistance to the wounded still lying around.

Blackened face glued to the binoculars, Lario started to think that the good guys had won the battle after all.
“Bad guys don’t give a damn about saving art from fires.” was his reasoning

“Godda%it…I understand less and less of this mess…what am I doing here anyways” thought Lario observing the gloomy scene in front of him. “I don’t even know who I am working for anymore and why”; he went back with his mind to his encounter with the 11th Bersaglieri up north and then with the Carabinieri in Brooksville. “I better get back to COMFOD or at least to Brigade as soon as I can, to see if there is still anything to do in this fuc/&ng war.”

After he saw the vehicles departing east, he decided to move out and go back to the hospital; he suspected that vehicles full of wounded were heading there anyway and he didn’t want to be too behind the locals in rejoining his party. Besides he’d better go back, before Goia got worried and decided to pack up and leave town alone. He reckoned he’d got enough intel on the battle scene, to understand what was going on.

“Vehicles approaching! Vehicles approaching from Summit Road” cried Goia, who brought is AR 70 to bear using the windowsill as a bipod for it.

Medic Lt. Frigerio dropped what he was doing and rushed at Goia’s side to look for himself. He tried to still give the image of the good perfect noble officer, but the shredded BDU, the body odor and an inch of dirt all over him, kind of showed otherwise.

Three or four pickups were heading towards the building from the right side very slowly, a white flag sticking out of the first one.

Goia anxiously looked at Frigerio. The medic put a hand on Goia’s rifle and moved it away from the sill. “Let’s wait”.

Two battered and long bearded civilians came out of the first vehicle, unarmed, peered around, and walked towards the main door. They stopped cold as soon as they saw the back of an APC sticking out of the spot where the door ought to be.

“Who arre you” was the simple question Frigerio asked to the newcomers.

The two men, who hadn’t spotted the Italians ducked behind the window, yet, turned their heads that way.

“Sir…There has been a battle down in Cortez Boulevard. We routed the marauders but we had a lot of casualties. We have some wounded here. We know the Italian military Hospital is the only facility still working around here.”

More people dismounting from the vehicles and starting to unload their sad cargo.

Frigerio turned his haggard face in direction of the convoy again and saw more vehicle headlights coming up the road. The vehicles approached and stopped in an orderly line behind the ones that were already there. The medic was tired, he was exhausted and he had almost finished all the medical equipment he once had, including everything the 79th logistic coy had left in town one week before.

Kate came up from the basement to see what was going on.

“Peoples…thiis ospital iss bout to bi evvacuated…we arre auttof supplise. Therre isnotte mutch we can du for yu.”

“You must be kidding me man…you can’t leave just right now…we just managed to liberate the town from the mob wave, but now we have relatives, here…friends who have been injured in the struggle…the hospitals south of town have been abandoned, there is nowhere we can go…you have to help us!! We saved also your ass you son of a bi%&c!!”

The crowd started to assemble in front of the hospitals carrying the wounded, some of them walking and some in such a pitiful state that it was doubtful that they were still alive. Some of the people gathering in front of the hospital were armed and they didn’t really look like they would take a no for an answer.

Frigerio felt the frustration mounting and the physical prostration overwhelm him all at the same time…it seemed to him that nobody in the fuc&/ng world was able to reason anymore. He looked again at the front row of people advancing towards the windows.

“Yu listen to me bastardi. I am tirred of yu…yu all and yor fucching cauntry. Some of yur solders yust tried to kill us all some hours ago okeeeey ?????? I don’t wont to bi here, I didn’t asked to bi here. They sent me understend ? They sent meeeee !!!!! Now yu discipline yursself and put all the wunded down utside, I dont have space left inside. Second…you stop your threatening attitude or I wont even look at any of them not even if yu kill me. Third I garanteeee you that I wuld take many of yu with me if yu tried to kill me, and fourth I come out with my assssistent and make prioritis for the worse wounded ok?
Line all yur frends outhere and get out of my way.

Goia petrified tried to keep his finger as far as possible from the trigger of his AR, while Kate, who miraculously managed to understand the main part of the Medic lecture, rushed downstairs to grab as many plasma units, sedatives, needles, and the like as she could still scavenge in the rapidly decreasing supply of the Carabinieri company.

“Discipline yourself??” Goia thought while looking at Frigerio with a puzzled expression. “Can you really say that to a population that lines up their vehicles in such a neat file in the middle of a fuc&/ing war zone.

“Don’t yu ever get tirred Ms. Bates?” Asked Frigerio while trying to start to sorting out that bundled mess of variable typology of wounded.

Goia tried his best to keep relatives, friends and fiancées out of the way while Doctor Frigerio attempted to establish who needed his skills first.

Kate looked at him, the beauty of her face mixed with dirt and sweat, but not defeated yet.

“Thank you Lieutenant” she just said.

Picture
Frigerio (center) and Goia (left) discussing inside with one of the American civilian leaders, about the situation in Brooksville during a much needed break.

[ambrafoxtrot]

kcdusk

I'm glad you are liking the story so far. This is a complete gritty story: no discounts to the characters if they get in trouble; no events tailored on the players either. What happens is as much as possible detached from what the Characters do (unless of course they influence the events directly).

I think this is great in a Twilight 2000 campaign. Keeps the players always alert, always worried and with that sense of "oppression" and distress that a setting like twilight is supposed to depict.

Greetings

ambrafoxtrot

[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 14 Doubts and Plans

Goia was the first one who saw Lario approaching; he wasn’t really walking straight and he was barely coherent. Air humidity and a temperature way higher than a normal January would dictate, didn’t help with the situation either. Goia run towards Lario and proceded to help him through his way inside the hospital.

It was still dark; the only visible lights being the ones of the scattered fireplaces in front of the building. Goia helped Lario to climb over an open window. Inside it was quite calm; Lario saw Lt. Frigerio inside, exhausted as much as he was

Lieutenant Frigerio was sitting at the half crushed reception desk, his head down.

Lario sat on the guest side of the desk, and gestured to Goia that he could go back to his watch duties outside. Before addressing Frigerio, Lario looked around in the big hall theatre of a nasty battle with the Americans the previous afternoon.

“As soon as I am able to…tomorrow I guess, I will take Goia, try to retrieve my vehicle, and I will leave. I have to warn brigade, or whatever command still in charge around here, that Brooksville is out of commission as a logistic base for the Italian forces. I’m just a dumb Sergeant, but I believe that this invasion, at least as far as western Florida is concerned, has failed.

Frigerio didn’t move his head from the table; just his eyes.

“We couldn’t do much more here Sergeant: the Carabinieri company and the logistic company are presumably both finished as combat capable units. We exhausted all the medical supplies, in the last effort to assist the local population. I barely managed to keep everybody alive, I don’t know for how long though. There are some patients in critical conditions, and I have used everything I had. There is no much more I can do. Yet, before I go, I would like to mount one last patrol to the southern outskirts on State road 41…I would like to see if we can manage to find Captain Cantatore, dead or alive, Brigadier Dalmazia or anybody else. It would also be interesting to see what happened to the town sheriff and may be to that yank naval detachment.

Lario raised his head.

“Friends of that American that I hit last night?”

“Yes; we put him with all the other casualties in the ditch behind the main road…I believe it was originally a group of three men; two of’em where fighting with Cantatore down south, but we have no news regarding them or the local police forces”.

“If they are still alive, it’s one more reason for us to grab our sh%t and get lost; the Americans have clearly wrestled this town out of our grasp”…Lario paused…”with the help of the mob I would say. Now, if it is so, the yankees can, and have to take care of their own people here.”

“And the fifghting elements of the brigade? I mean they will completely be cut off of the main supply routes from Hernando beach.

“We don’t have enough elements to judge Lieutenant! We don’t even know if there still is a command in Hernando; supplies…or anything.

“I heard some news yesterday, before the beginning of the battle. They recovered a couple of survivors from the 4th tank regiment and from the cavalry company attached to the brigade. If I have understood well, the cavalry company has been assaulted and destroyed by masses of civilians coming from the nuked towns. There is no precise information about the tankers though.”

“Difficult to say lieutenant; I know there is a mechanized battalion northeast, between Lake Lindsey and Orlando. I am here because I was tasked with a reconnaissance mission by this very battalion. It seems I didn’t make it very far. Hell…I might even try and contact them over the radio…at this point we don’t have much to lose if we get detected by the enemy.

“And the locals here?” Asked Frigerio.

“We did everything we could for them as long as it was tactically meaningful for us to hold this town…now, I think, the time has come for us to leave. The American military will have to deal with its own population now; may be, that will keep them busy enough to prevent them from hitting us too hard. On the other hand, I have no idea about what American units there are around here. Since the beginning of the operation, all I have really ever seen is American light infantry.”

“What about possible survivors from the Carabinieri company.”

“You feel free to stay here and look for them.”

“I might end up doing just that Sergeant…you should let me look at that head of yours, before you leave. You don’t really look in top shape if I may say so”.

“Does anybody else?”