"War, like you've never before experienced, is about to spring shut it's gruesome jaws around silence's fragile neck."
-YourRoleModel
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| Operation StrikeNet | | | Author: | | | IP: | spider-mXXXX | | Date: | 01/18/02 10:01 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 2, Max: 5, Min: 4
Lifetime Rating for Patton1944: 5.3333 |   | October 18th, 2004: 1500 hrs
In a time of nervous tension, a time when the balance of power hinges on a thin ledge, there are those who seek to topple all hopes of peace. One man with a thought, a "vision", can convince whole nations to fight with and for him. The world is seeking to become stronger; to get rid of the vast differences between nations.
Europe has taken drastic steps to unify the continent. After nearly a century of debate, they have finally joined together. A new continent was formed: Erusia.
People of all nations finally had a common language, a common monetary system, a common goal. However, there are concerns that this unity will not last.
Europe's history is filled with violence. Two world wars, smaller conflicts, terrorist attacks...it's a wonder Europe is still in one piece.
However, after four months of peace, a sizeable rebellion has broken out. Calling themselves ISAF (Independent States Allied Forces), this group of former military soldiers has taken control of nearly half the continent.
Fierce fighting now splits Erusia in half: Facist east, and Capitalist west. NATO has since intervened, and as of 2300hrs, they plan to launch a massive amphibious landing assault on Crowne, Andacede, and Sanmensk beaches. Taking control of these beach heads could very well turn the tide of the war.
* * *
October 18th, 2004: 1535 hrs
40 miles off the shores of the three beaches, a massive gathering of men and machines is taking place. Aboard the Carrier USS Constitution, several pilots are receiving a final breifing.
"Gentlemen, if you will listen up, please. I have some information which you need to know." A tall,bearded Admiral spoke. "As you're all aware, we will be attacking soon. Our job is to provide air cover for the nearly 200,00 troops which will land on the beach heads. Our squadron of R-M01's, along with various aircraft from the USS DuGaulle and San Salvacion airbase, must sweep ahead and clear out any resistance we can. But this, of course, will not be easy. All three sites are along a narrow bottleneck. This makes it easier for ISAF to concentrate defenses near the area."
"Admiral?" Someone asked from the back.
"Yes? What is it?"
"If it's so dangerous, why not just find an different landing site?"
"Because this area is a stockpile for gasoline, fuel, and oil. It can keep our new base of operations supplied for several months. We need this base to launch assaults against the capital and nearby bases. If the enemy loses it all, they'll be dealt a major blow to their war effort. From these outlying bases, we can destroy their satellite network. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Now, I suggest you all get some sleep. This may be your last mission. Dismissed."
* * *
October 18th, 2004: 2250hrs
With the immenent attack almost underway, ISAF soldiers at the beaches stumbled to put up last minute defenses. MLRS and Howitzers fired blindly into the harbor, hoping to hit a ship. As thousands of soldiers solemnly loaded onto DUKW2 landing craft and HS-305 Hovercraft, the night air was disturbed by the sound of jet engines. Bright cones of flame shot into the sky as fighters from the aircraft carriers and bases flew into formation.
"Whiskey Charlie, this is Whiskey Tango. Roger on adjoining fighters. F-15 ACTIVE, F-16 advanced, and TND-1D5's sighted. Wait a second...are those...F-22's?
"Roger that. Raptors fresh off the line from Paldorf AFB. They're loaded with GPS precision bombs. They'll be a big help."
The pilots of 283rd flew the new R-M01's, the new Delta-Winged, dual cannard fighter designed to replace the F-14 and F-18 in combat. Not many existed, but were slowly being phased into service. It was highly maneuverable, slightly stealthy, and a great multi-role fighter. Each R-M01 carried a pair of SDP's (Stand-off Dispenser Pods) under their wings. These guided weapons would fly over the target, and release thousands of sub-munitions, like a guided version of the Tornado's Dispenser. They also carried a pair of Matra air-to-air missiles for fighter sweeps.
"All fighters, advance toward the beach! I repeat, all fighters, advande toward the beach! Wipe out all resistance!" The commander ordered over radio.
"You heard the man! Whiskey units, peel off and attack shore batteries. Tango units, hit the bunkers. All others, pick your targets."
"F-15 ACTIVE flight here. We're hitting the concentrated units on Crowne beach." The lead pilot said.
The lead F-15 ACTIVE, a new version of the F-15 with Cannards and thrust vectoring, rolled into a dive to the right. It swooped in low, and released a fuel-air bomb.
"Bombs away!"
A large white bomb tumbled end over end, toward a large group of tanks and soldiers. Troops scattered, trying to escape certain death. But it was no use. The bomb popped open in mid-air, spraying a cloud of volatile chemicals into the air. All it took was a small explosion from the bomb's warhead to light off the cloud. Instantly, the temperature was raised to 35,000 degrees farrenheit. Men were incinerated where they stood, leaving only a pile of ashes to be blown away by the concussion.
Anyone up to 500 yards away had their flesh burned off by the searing heat. Their charred skeletons dropped to the ground. Then the concussive wave hit. Tanks and soldiers were thrown into the air like a baby discarding an unwanted toy. Nearly 40 miles away, the USS constitution rocked slightly from the blast wave.
Overhead, overy 50 aircraft, NATO and ISAF, fought for air superiority. The air was filled with contrail patterns, which bobbed and weaved like an intricate dance. At any one point, a man could look up and see tracers, missile trails, and explosions.
A flight of F-22 Raptors and F-16f Falcons were engaged with SU-35 Flankers and SU-37 super flankers.
"AMRAAMs locked on...I've got tone...Bravo one, Fox one through four!"
Bravo flight's lead F-22 opened it's bay doors, and fired off quadruple AMRAAM missiles at different targets. Three SU-35's exploded in brilliant fireballs and shrapnel, killing the pilots instantly. However, the SU-37, with a large yellow "13" painted on the tail, did a 'Cobra Roll' at the last second, and in one swift motion, pointed the nose back, and fired the newest ISAF missile: The AMSRAAM (Advanced Maneuver Short Range Air-to-Air Missile). It was basically a smaller, much more advanced AMRAAM (Sometimes referred to as the 'AMRAAMSKI" by allied pilots).
"Bravo 2, evade!" Bravo leader yelled to his wingman. The F-22 did a wing-over just in time to miss the missile by inches.
"Whew. I'm okay. The damn thing missed.
Suddenly, the missile did an incredibly fast 180degree turn, and started to follow the F-22, move for move.
"What the hell?! I can't shake it!" Bravo 2 said while looking over his shoulder.
"Sh*t, it's gonna hit!" The missile impacted the fuselage. The pilot let out a muffled scream, then was silenced.
"No! Bravo 2! You ISAF bastard!"
But the SU-37 with the yellow "13" was already speeding away from the battle. Bravo leader watched it rocket away at mach 2.
* * *
Below the air battle, soldiers unloaded from their DUKW2 landing craft. Almost before the ramp hit the water, 15 soldiers lie dead. Several machine guns concentrated on the steel coffin. MG-94 and M-249's ripped unfortunate soldiers to shreds. Many soldiers instinctively jumped over the side, and started to bob in the shallow water. Bullets snapped the water around them. Seasoned soldiers hoped that if they did get hit, it would be a head shot. A bullet hitting underwater was slowed down tremendously, and lodged itself in your body, instead of passing through.
MLRS (Multiple Launch Rocket System) vehicles,20 miles away, fired rockets loaded with flechette warheads. These deadly weapons opened in mid-air, and hundreds of small knives flew out at incredible speeds. Soldiers in a 100 yard radius were run through, impaled, gored, and sliced apart. Several knives hit Abel company's commander, pinning his body, half-standing, to the beach. Knives ruptured his organs, sliced his jugular, and severed his arm. One final round stuck through his head.
Yet despite this, more soldiers ran up the beach, taking cover behind anything they could find. Overturned vechicles, tank traps, dead soldiers; it didn't matter. Anything to escape the murderous crossfire. The screams of the dead and dying drowned out the noise of machine guns. Religious soldiers held their various symbols, praying for god to save them. Military preachers walked out in the open, unarmed, to bless the dead.
French soldiers from Adewois army base stormed up the right side of the beach. They crouched and fired their P-90 assault rifles, which threw their bullets, harmlessly, into the thich concrete walls. Inside these bunkers, machine guns and a 7.62mm minigun opened up on them. 34 french soldiers dropped, some clutching at wounds, others already dead.
An ISAF soldier retorted "Never liked French people anyway."
* * *
American soldiers dove into the sand to fire their M-4 rifles. Bullets bounced off the bunker walls, but one lucky round cut into the eye of the minigunner, shredded his brain, and exploded out the back of his head. The American let out a cheer, until a .50 caliber bullet piereced his skull. 400 yards away, ISAF snipers with AWM rifles were dropping men at a furious rate.
"We don't stand a F*cking chance! And that ain't fair!"
* * *
"Tango flight, this is Delta company. We're pinned down by these bastards! Send bunker busters!" Lieutinant Junior Layete said into his radio.The intense artillery bombardment was killing his friends left and right.
"And someone kill those goddamn MLRS things!"
"This is Tango flight. Roger, A-10's on the way." A pilot replied.
"Thanks, Tango. But hurry it up! We won't last mu..." The radio went silent, shattered by a 105mm howitzer round.
"Tango 3 going in. Halo, give me some top cover."
Captain Michael Peters dove at the bunker, and released a 'Bunker Buster' bomb. The extremely dense fuel-air bomb pierced the 5 feet of concrete easily, exploding inside. Everyone inside was burned to nothing, and blown out the firing hole.
"Woohoo! Bunker destroyed!" Tango 3 shouted victoriously.
"Great shot, Tango 3! Now let's get those MLRS vehicles!"
A column of MLRS vehicles were still firing away at the beach, seemingly unaware of the A-10's approaching.
"What the...no defense? This is too easy."
"You're right. It is too easy.Something's wrong"
"What make you say that?"
"In every single movie with planes, it's quiet, until the shit starts flying everywhere. Then they die."
"Oh."
"Well anyway, take those things out!"
As if on cue, flak rounds exploded around them. They dove below 2,000 ft to avoid the flak, which exposed them to a Phalanx 20mm gatling gun. Smoking tracers zipped past Nelson's cockpit, punching a few holes in his left wing.
"I got it." Peters fired a maverick, destroying the gatling gun.
Nelson did a strafing pass at the row of MLRS, peppering them with armor-piercing and explosive rounds. The last MLRS in line exploded in a plume of fire, lighting off the sub-munition rounds inside the rockets. The already dead operators inside exploded into thousands of strips of flesh.Any vehicles that could still move were slowly running away.
"Suck on this, you S.O.B"
Peters dropped a 2,000lb bomb at the column. It landed on the center vehicle, literally desentigrating the men inside. Two MLRS on either side were thrown 80 feet in the air by the blast wave, and landed on their backs.
"Alright! Nelson, finish em off!"
"Roger."He switched weapons, and fired. A volley of 8 hypervelocity rockets pierced the vehicle, passing through it without slowing down. A lucky rocket hit the cabin, and the velocity of the rocket was so great that it created a vacuum which sucked the crew out of a two-inch hole in the side.
"Tango flight, thanks for the help. We can advance up the beach."
Both A-10's were low on ammo and fuel, and were returning to base. But that meant that they had to face the flak again.
Black clouds erupted around them once again. Pieces of metal impacted their planes with deep 'chunk' sounds, creating only minor damage. Peters' plane shook violently. He looked back, and saw that a whole engine was missing.
"Thank god these planes can take so much damage."
But his confidence was shattered when a flak round ripped his right wing off. His plane, flaming and full of holes, plummeted to the ground. Nelson watched as Peters hit the ground and exploded. He did a low fly-by. No sign of peters. Then he saw the crew of an 88mm flak gun celebrating their small victory over the 'Capitalist pigs'.
Without any hesitation, Nelson made up his mind. They had to die.
* * *
He felt the rage build up inside him, boiling over like a cauldron. He glanced at his gun indicator.
"300 rounds. Good enough."
Ignoring all danger, all reason, he rolled into a dive to line up the crew. Flak guns fired very near to his craft, and he could hear the deafening 'CHOK' sound that the allies had come to fear.
"Die you mother f*ckers!" he yelled as loud as possible. Nelson pulled the trigger with all his anger. The massive 30mm gatling gun under his plane roared to life like an angry beast, spewing lead at the crew. The rounds puffed and whiffed around them. It kicked up dirt in all directions.
Two soldiers erupted in a cloud of blood, literally blown in half. Another soldier lost his leg. He started to crawl away slowly, tears streaming down his face.
He watched in horror as the stream of tracers kicked up the sand infront of him, then blew a large chunk from his head, shredded his lungs, and threw the bottom half of his body 20 feet away.The last soldier from the gun ran as fast as possible.
"I got ya, you bastard."Nelson pulled the trigger, but didn't hear the roaring torrent of lead.Only a high pitched whine of empty barrels spinning.
"Outta ammo. Crap."
The man below sighed in relief.
"You're not getting away!" Nelson said.
"Tango flight, what the hell is going on?! Answer! ANSWER!"
Nelson flipped his radio off, lined up the soldier, and hit full throttle. He went into a steep dive.
"Oh my god" the soldier said to himself, "He's gonna hit me!"He started running again, watching the plane rapidly get larger and larger. The A-10 was contstantly taking hits from flak. Part of his plane ripped off, and he started to barrel roll on fire.
With all his strength, Nelson yelled "F*CK YOU!"
His A-10 smashed into the soldier, breaking every bone in his body. The plane dragged him several hundred feet, leaving a red smear along the ground. They came to a rest, and the plane's weapons lit off, creamating them both.
The explosion could be seen from Whiskey flight's position. Sierra 5 watched the ball of fire slowly fade into a black smoke cloud. He knew Peters and Nelson for quite a while. But there was no time to mourn. He was in the middle of a massive furball, and any hesitation would get him killed.
Then, over the radio, the allied pilots heard a terrifying announcement.
"All aircraft, this is SkyEye AWACS. You have a squadron of five Su-37's coming your way...it's yellow squadron."
To be continued whenever I feel like typing again
Hope you liked it. I'm working on part 2, which will be out sometime by monday. Feel free to comment.
BTW, if any of this sounds familiar, it's because I borrowed parts from Ace Combat 4: Shattered skies. Other than that, it's all original. Thanks for your support.
This has been a Patton1944 story. Feel free to flame me now. |
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