| Merchants & Menaces; Events of the West coast of North America | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 7 2011, 01:02 AM (838 Views) | |
| Vextra | Mar 15 2011, 10:07 PM Post #11 |
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C PLUS THREE DAYS, NEAR EUREKA, NORTHERN CALIFORNIA The Ride from Crescent City had been a hard one, and now they were but a few days from Eureka. They had chosen to keep close to the Coast, despite the danger, as the overland terrain was likely to be even rougher and more dangerous, home as it was to wandering bandits and trappers and all manner of rogues. Eureka would be a significant roadstop on Gideon's Journey, however. It had supplies, and most likely automobiles that could be procured for the Journey to Sacramento. Eureka had been a big-time port during the Gold Rush, and ever since had been one of the Pacific Coastline's most notorious Free Harbours, fiercely contested by Hispanic Warlords from San Fransisco, Pro-Federalists from Redding and Mormon Settlers moving through from Sacramento, which was practically a Mormon City-State these days, though still independent from Deseret. Letting the Horses rest for a moment, Gideon went off by himself, keeping his Carbine close to hand, to watch the Coast. The road ran along a cliff, and was pretty rough, but was one of the few comparitively well-maintained roads in this Failed State. He could see the long, windswept beaches thirty feet below him, and could even see some large Seals bathing in the distance. It was at times like this that Gideon reminded himself why he had volunteered for this duty. Truly, California was a beautiful land, with such untapped natural wealth and potential. He could never understand why God had chosen a Salt Lake, of all places, to site his Second Jerusalem. Surely here would have been better? Sighing, Gideon scanned the horizon. No sign of Canadian Planes or Boats. Yet. But he was certain they would already have landed at Crescent City by now, and were probably sending a Fleet to cut Eureka off too. Crescent City they might catch by suprise, but Eureka was used to being contested. There'd be a bloody fight on their hands indeed. Fort Bragg would also probably send forces to aid. It was going to be quite a bloodbath, soon. He had to get to Eureka and get what he needed, and Fold the Network quickly. Eureka would be most difficult, as they had all sorts of off-the-books smuggling operations and black marketeering going on there, because it was the largest and safest of the Californian Ports not directly controlled by the Hispanics. Simply speaking to one preist wouldn't be enough. He might get stuck in the City. He sighed again, wracking his brain trying to see ahead and plan his route. One delay, one wrong move, could see him miles behind a Canadian Blitzkrieg. "Gideon! We'll be moving again in ten minutes. We slept late last night so we need to make up for lost time." Gideon nodded, quietly, checking his Carbine again. It might be the only thing that could keep him alive, in the days to come. "Make it five. We need to keep going before our provisions run out, or we run into some local trouble that might hinder us." |
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| Drake | Mar 16 2011, 05:12 PM Post #12 |
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1km off the shore of Crescent City General Graham aboard the FCS Algonquin Friday morning came and Graham was watching his men board their landing craft from his position on the bridge of the Algonquin. He lowered his binoculars and looked at the horizon, the sun’s rays were starting to shine over. The landing would be starting within moments. He knew the landing would be a success, the resistors were not prepared to repel an invasion of this size, still there would be casualties. There was nothing to do now except wait for a result. Graham looked on in eager glee of the battle to come. __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 500m away from the Crescent City harbour Pvt. Anders aboard a landing craft “Lock and load gentlemen! And keep your heads down, and remember to keep your intervals, don’t bunch up and keep moving!” Anders listened to every word hit Sergeant said, but it didn’t seem to stick with him, he was just focused on loading his Ross-rifle. “30 SECONDS!” Anders heart was pounding, his breathing was heavy. They were told that resistance would be light and the assault will be over by nightfall. Still Anders knew it would only take one bullet to kill him, he knew it would be him. He heard pings, bullets ricocheting off the steel landing craft. He made sure to keep his head down. 30 seconds was up before he knew it, as he felt the boat lift out of the water. The ramp splashed down into the water and the men piled out. There were a few pot shots as Anders sprinted up the beach. He saw one of his fellows drop from a shot in the leg. He saw in the distance by a dirt road some men mounting horses, armed and trying to get away. He quickly aimed and killed one of them as the others raced away at full gate. __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Crescent City north sector, near the coast Sergeant Thomas Gordon McDonald moving south into the city Thomas gripped his Lanchester SMG tightly; he has yet to have an opportunity to use it. He lead his 20 men along the right flank of their column as the whole Hamilton Light Infantry moved into the city proper. There had so far been no resistors; however they had all heard gunshots when other Canadian soldiers were moving over the airstrip. Thomas and his men moved street to street, walking quietly and keeping cover, fire could come from anywhere at any time. Without warning horsemen came galloping from around a street corner and began firing at Thomas and his men. Thomas took cover behind some water barrels left in the street. He and his men began to return fire and easily killed most of the horsemen; more irregulars had moved up into cover however and were also firing. Grenades and machine gun fire dislodged the irregulars and they ran, Thomas gave chase with his men. The shutters of a second floor window burst open and lead began to rain down on the street. Two of Thomas’s men were hit. Thomas yelled for cover fire and ran out to retrieve the wounded man who he knew was still alive, bringing him back into cover and leaving him with a medic. Thomas noticed the door below the window, he leaned out and put half his magazine into it. He reloaded quickly and yelled for more cover fire. His men obliged enthusiastically, all of them knowing what Thomas was going to do. The men all poured fire onto the window as Thomas ran from cover down the street and burst through the door with a swift kick sending a hail of wood splinters everywhere. A large man came at Thomas with a pitch fork. The man was large, taller than Thomas and covered in dirt from field work. He stabbed at Thomas’s chest, who blocked it, bracing the farming instrument between the teeth with his Lanchester. Thomas twisted his weapon hard and knocked the pitch fork out of the farmer’s hands, bashed him across the face with the butt of his gun, and shot him dead in the chest as he stumbled backwards. A woman, the man’s wife, who had been sitting in a corner unnoticed during the struggle, came out weeping. She crouched over her husband’s body with sorrow like Thomas had never seen; she looked at Thomas with a tearful and questioning look, “Why” she asked without speaking. “I’m sorry” said Thomas with barely a whisper. Thomas had a duty to perform and he quickly forgot the woman as he began to creep quietly up the staircase. The machinegun on the second floor had gone silent, perhaps one of his men had gotten a lucky shot. Thomas moved to investigate, climbing to see over the top step, his weapon poised for a shot. A noise like thunder erupted all around Thomas; the machine gun had been aimed at the stairs and was firing wildly. Thomas took a hit, directly to his weapon, which broke and flew out of his hands. Thomas tumbled down the stairs backward and hit his head hard. He drew his Inglis pistol and waited for the man to appear at the top of the stairs. He didn’t and Thomas took his Mills bomb and threw it to land near the gunner. Thomas heard a yelp and a scream, then the explosion. The gunner’s body was thrown half-way down the stairs and landed in a bloody heap before Thomas. Thomas exited the small house and went to his men. He took a Ross and ammo off the one dead man from his platoon and they all pressed on. __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ General Graham aboard the FCS Algonquin It was 1:39pm when Graham finally declared the operation concluded. He had been receiving reports all afternoon of his soldier’s progress and victories. His latest reports indicate that his soldiers hold the town centre and fighting had more or less been concluded. There were few irregulars left in the city, most were dead or had fled during the invasion. Graham ordered the rusted freighters in the harbour to be towed out to sea and scuttled. He needed to make room for his armies to land properly and begin their trek further in land. Graham felt disappointed, he was hoping for more of a fight. Perhaps Eureka or Sacramento will be more honour worthy targets? Edited by Drake, Mar 16 2011, 08:36 PM.
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| Hawkeye | Mar 16 2011, 07:28 PM Post #13 |
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U.S.S. Gato, U-212 Waters of the Juan de Fuca Plate, off the coast of the Oregon-California border Out on the deck of the surfaced U-212, the hard sea winds of the Pacific Northwest hit the man on the bridge of the boat and threw the collar of his black Navy sailor's frock about whichever way it pleased. He sported a peaked hat and lengthy beard, likely grown over many a day out at sea, which indicated his role on this vessel as the Captain. Around him, scurrying frantically while trying to maintain balance from each violent gust of wind, about a dozen members of the crew worked to repair the radar mast which had unexpectedly broken during a violent storm a few days before. The Gato, designated U-212, was one of the U.S. Navy's Underwater Boats - a term which had become the American English for "submarine" over the course of diplomatic tensions with European powers which used submarine - in reality, they seldom differed. Despite the Gato being the first of the newest and the best that technology had to offer for underwater boats in the United States, it was still no less plagued by the usual malfunctions which befell the maiden voyage of a new, untested prototype design. Behind Captain Jameson, the first mate Saul Murdoch, approached to give a report, "I think we're about ready to go, Bill. Sam says he'll get the radio operational again within the hour." Captain Bill Jameson continued surveying the horizon through the observation binoculars, keeping his eye on the mysterious dark cloud many miles ahead. "Tell me, would you say we are water-tight, Saul?" The first mate was happy to report in the affirmative for the first time in hours. Captain Bill Jameson proceeded to leave the binoculars, did a quick Mark I eyeball of the boat before turning to First Mate Murdoch for his prognosis, "Get the crew below decks. Dive the ship. Looks like there might be trouble up ahead." About a quarter hour later, below deck, the members of the crew which had been top-side were assembled alongside their shipmates at their stations with Captain Jameson in the center of the Gato's control room. While the crew which had been at the surface were still dripping water on the floor from the sea foam, Capt. Jameson was already giving orders before they could get settled in, "Lt. Strzechowski, keep your eyes on SONAR. Helmsman Murphy, maintain silent-running." Followed closely by a chorus of "Aye, aye, Captain". The Gato was poised to investigate what was going on up ahead without attracting any attention. A few nautical miles later, Sonar Officer Strzechowski began to note the large blips approaching closer and closer. Captain Jameson had to investigate while keeping some distance from the group. "Periscope depth! Raise the observation periscope! Arm and load torpedoes 1 through 4!" shouted Bill Jameson. To which the whole of the Navy's star underwater boat seemed to reply in perfect unison. Through the periscope, the Captain could see several ships protecting transports launching in the direction of the shore over the horizon. At the center of them was a large battlecruiser, its bridge and masts off to the stern. He turned his periscope to zoom in on the flagpole at the bow to confirm his suspicions - a red, white, green tricolor with an undistinguishable emblem in the center of the white. First officer Murdoch hoped to prod the Captain for some information, Capt. Jameson replied, "See for yourself." In amazement, Saul exclaimed, "Canucks! A whole squadron of 'em! What are they doing so close to our territory?" Lt. Samuel Pierce, the radio officer, asserted "Captain, the radio might be operational. Orders?" Whatever the course of action, Jameson had already decided on the best they could do in this situation, "Lt. Pierce, keep radio silence until we reach sight of the Portland Pens. Best they don't have another tool to track us with." First mate Saul grumbled cynically, "... if there is a Portland to return to, that is." In any case, they couldn't just linger around the Canadian invasion fleet forever. After some reflection, Bill Jameson reached a decision, "Stand down on any attack run. Dive us down, keep the torpedoes armed just in case, try to avoid the majority of the fleet. Helmsman, silent-running until out-of-range." This was definitely one way to test the new stealth capabilities of the Gato in the field. As the crew acted out the orders given to them, Saul pulled the Captain aside to air his concerns, "Bill, what if this is an attack on the United States? I mean this isn't the first time anyone's been attacked by a supposed friend and they've always been a little sore that we got half of Columbia, you know what they're like, bunch of angry, drunk Scotsmen and Frenchies. If they really are attacking us, this would be the perfect opportunity to get a blow in for our side." Captain Jameson calmly reassured his first officer, "I sincerely doubt they're after us right now, they've been having problems enough with pirates out of California. Besides, even if they were at war with us, you think those destroyers would just sit around and let us sink one of their most prized vessels? No. I have the crew to think about. If we are at war, we should get a wolf-pack or two with us before trying anything that foolish." First mate Murdoch replied with a wry smirk, "I pray to God that you're right, Bill." Recognizing this as another light-hearted jab from his old friend towards his own skepticism, Jameson said, "Yeah. If he did exist, I think he'd have better things to do than concern himself with two piss-stains on the universe like us." The two sea-dogs shared a chuckle. |
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| Vextra | Mar 17 2011, 02:15 AM Post #14 |
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C PLUS SEVEN DAYS, EUREKA, NORTHERN CALIFORNIA Gideon was exhausted. They had ridden their mounts to death in an impossibly fast ride along the Coastal Road, luck evidently on their side. Now they were in Eureka, having managed to ride, with very little rest, from Orford to Eureka in less than eleven days. Practically half asleep in the saddle, they dropped asleep on hard mats set aside for them in the Eureka Chapterhouse, a fortified barracks-like structure that had seen many riots and sieges but remained as a defiant symbol of Mormon presence in the City. It wasn't nearly as large as the Governor's Mansion, though. In theory sponsored by the United States, Governor Harry Bridges was a radical socialist and a former executive in the Longshoreman's Union. However, he was something of a rogue, and the power afforded to him as the US's authority in California- at least, over the parts of it not contested by Deseret and the Free Californian Warlords, had gone to his head, and he had mostly squandered what resources he had been given in living a life of obscene luxury. All in the name of progress, of course. They slept for ten hours straight, missing out on many crucial events, as they bunked deep in the Chapterhouse. When Gideon awoke, the City was closed. Martial Law had been declared by the so-called Governor, and a ragtag "National Guard" was being assembled. In truth, it was just the same system of seasonal citizen levy used by almost all the other Warlords. Bridges offered US dollars in exchange for six months of service from local rancheros who signed up. Of course, it was common practice for these men to switch sides, to malinger, and other effort-reducing profit-maximising opportunities. But such was life in California. "I'm sorry Brother Gideon, but you'll have to stay here in Eureka. The Governor is closing the City. Word has reached us that Canada has invaded, and towns for miles and miles between here and Crescent City are emptying. They say nearly a hundred thousand people will be flooding this way. The Warlords are also assembling their armies all throughout California. Eureka is going to be under siege either way, soon enough." said the Chapter Warden, whose name was Virdan Brand. He was in his early fifties, and also commander of the Mormon Millita, which he had already begun ordering to be assembled, though being no more than several hundred strong, it was a weak component of the ragtag millitas and bands of armed men gathering in Eureka. "Governor Bridges is offering five dollars a month for signing up to fight the Canucks. He's got maybe a thousand, two thousand young Know-Nothings all gathered up in the Manor Courtyard, where his Territorial Guard are handing out badges and rough khaki uniforms. They'll probably sell the uniforms for boots and ammo, though. Noone who isnt a Hispanic or a Territorial or a Nauvoo wears a Uniform in California." Gideon nodded. "So its already begun. They're looking for us, though. Will Canada fight this...hodgepodge of rabbles?" Gideon was skeptical about the possibility of serious resistance. Eureka was a large city, but most of California's population, especially in the North, was very rural, and scattered widely. It would take weeks for them all to gather to Eureka, by which time it might already have fallen. "Well, whatever's going to happen, we're not going to stick around. Saddle the horses-" "I don't think you understand, Brother. The horses are dead or feagued, barely fit for anything but the gluemakers. I can't give you replacement mounts, the Millitas need them, and, if I read your orders correctly, you won't be able to contact all the Cells in time anyway. Even with automobiles." Gideon frowned, and made as if to say something, but then went quiet. The Warden was right. He was stuck here, for now. Then he smiled, as an idea came to him. "Maybe there is a way to get word out. Virdan, do you know any Mormons who might work at the Eureka Telegraph Station?" "I might..." Virdan was guarded, unwilling to let this Nauvoo run roughshod over his carefully constructed and managed community. They had worked hard to hold a piece of this city, and offer refuge and shelter to others of their kind, whilst at the same time disseminating pamphlets and trying to Convert. It had not been easy in this lawless town. Gideon became enthused, and quickly went to get paper and a pen. "I believe we have here an opportunity. Tonight, we seize the Station, and we send...this." |
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| Drake | Mar 17 2011, 04:01 AM Post #15 |
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10km south of Crescent city along the main roads Sergeant Thomas McDonald with his platoon, moving south along the road It was a hot Californian day, bright sun, no clouds, just a light southerly wind. The wind was picking up all the dust and blowing it everywhere, at least it was to their backs. Th Hamilton Light Infantry along with three other companies were part of a vanguard force, moving south along the roads in a staggered line formation. The companies together created a kilometer longs screening force, tasked with clearing the roads of refuges and making sure there weren't any nasty surprises waiting for the rest of the Canadian column about a kilometer behind them. The road was full of refuges, all moving south to seek protection from warlords in Eureka. Thomas couldn't believe how ignorant these people were, didn't they know they were just moving into harm's way? Eureka after all was the next target on the Canadian hit list, it would have been better for them all to just stay put. For whatever reason the refuges still created a huge hindrance when moving vehicles along the road. They were slow and blocked the roads, they were also very upset about about having to leave their homes and made sure the soldiers knew it. Most refugees were also armed, adding fuel to an already raging fire. This was wild country after all, and a trusty sidearm was as much a lifeline as water. Fortunately for Thomas and his men, not many had the stomach to draw on the Canadians, they were after all better armed, and backed up by armour. Still there were a few dead bodies along the road with Canadian lead in them. As Thomas marched he looked up and down the line, to his left stretched a Canadian line and then the mountains, to his right was another Canadian line and the Pacific ocean. There somewhere in the middle was Thomas's 2nd platoon of the Hamilton Light Infantry, marching and getting shot at. Thomas walked up and down his line, checking his men as they all walked, making sure they were keeping alert and keeping their intervals. As they all moved the men would check the civilian refuges, they had been briefed that some of them could be enemy soldiers dressed as civilians. Thomas heard some gunfire ahead, two quick shots. He raced forward with 1st squad to check it out. A crowd had formed and Thomas quickly pushed through it. On the ground was a brown horse, obviously injured, the crowd was keeping its distance. In the middle were two men, one obviously a rancher, the other was dressed in fine clothing, probably a businessman. The rancher had his gun drawn and pointing straight at the businessman's face. Thomas slung his rifle over his shoulder and moved in as his men controlled the crowd. "YOU DID DAT' ON PURPOSE YOU SLIMY HAIRED GOOD FER NUTTIN' SACK A SHIT!" "Really, honest it was an accident, my palm is sweaty and that suitcase is heavy, I didn't mean to drop it, much less hurt your horse, honest" the businessman said as he backed away slightly. "A heavy suitcase, well ain't dat a sad story. You city-slickin' types don't do a days labour in yo life and I gots to pay for it with a tripped up horse" "Excuse me gentlemen, what seems to be the problem here?" Thomas interjected with his slightly Scottish accent, clearly an outsider here. Without looking at Thomas the rancher explained "Dis here city type don gun tripped my horse with his heavy ol' case dar. My horse is done in, broke ankle an all" He glanced at Thomas and saw the Canadian uniform and turned, pointing the gun at Thomas, who remained calm. "YOU STUPID CANUCKS, if it weren't for you I wouldn't be out on this stupid road. Who the hell do you think you all are anyway, coming to my home and stirring up shit?" The rancher was waving the gun slightly as he tried to make a point, and in a flash Thomas had the gun, pulled easily from the rancher's loose grip. A moment later Thomas clobbered the ranch and sent him to the ground, stepping on his chest to keep him pinned. The other soldiers were laughing and calling "You get him Sarge" and "Yeah Sarge". The business man, seeing his chance to get some licks in, moved on the pinned rancher to kick him. As he did Thomas leveled the ranchers cattleman gun with the businessman's face, which halted him immediately. "I think it is time for you to go eh." Thomas said, "or I'm gonna give you some lead fillings" he threatened, lowering the gun to the man's teeth and cocking the hammer. The man stumbled back and ran, pushing through the crowd frantically. Thomas looked to the rancher below his boot and turned the pistol on him, pointing it right between the dazed man's eyes. The ranches nose flared as his eyes opened wide in realization and total fear. He had his hands up in surrender, hoping that the Canadian, Thomas, wouldn't fire. After a few moments of inflicting terror on the rancher, Thomas aimed for the struggling horse and put it out of it's misery. Thomas stepping off the rancher and unloaded the pistol, then tucked it into his belt, he would trade it later for a bottle of whiskey maybe, give all the boys a nice treat. "You men there" Thomas said, pointed at a strong looked group of men, they all looked at him, "Get that carcass of the road." he ordered pointing at the dead horse. The men grudgingly walked over and hauled the animal off the road. "First squad! Get these people off the road, we need to clear a path for our armour." The rancher got up and dusted himself off as Thomas's men forcefully encouraged the refuges to get off the road. He called to Thomas and said "You asinine Canucks just wait, you will get whats coming to you at Eureka. They got a whole pot of whop-ass stewing for you down there." A corporal pushed the man along saying, "Move along you bleeding moron, the Sarge already kicked your ass once you want another beating?" and the rancher was gone. However he was right, Eureka would be a tougher fight. These refuges were at the bottom of the barrel yet they still had defiance. Thomas knew that all the defiance would lead to a lot of bloodshed, on both sides. The Canadians continued to move south for the rest of the day. They would break up fights, but eventually they didn't care, and would just let the people settle it themselves. Most of the people who lived out here were the farming type. They were used to vast open space between them and their neighbors. Now they are all packed on these small roads so close together and with little food or water. Tensions were running high and it was only bound to get worse as they got closer to Eureka. By days end the Canadian line had only covered about 20 kilometers. The poor road condition and hordes of refuges had slowed the advance terribly. Edited by Drake, Mar 20 2011, 03:34 PM.
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| Vextra | Mar 21 2011, 12:27 AM Post #16 |
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The Invasion of Northern California was quickly becoming something bigger than Gideon could even imagine, let alone control. He began to realise, as he sent off telegrams on the captured Exchange, Mormon millitamen standing guard over the surrendered staff and security personnel, that the Network was simply too vast for one Man to know, let alone fold in a short time. He figured he probably got to a few dozen cells, but given the situation, the lenght of time it would take to even get to Sacramento, let alone across the Sierra Nevadas, convinced him his mission was becoming increasingly Fruitless. The Mormons who had for so many years aided and abetted efforts to accquire resources on the Black Market, who had served as small links in a vast chain connecting Gideon's Pirates with the Quorum of Elders, would most likely realise that, since fleeing was increasingly unlikely, they could either hide, or fight. Gideon knew they would most likely opt for the latter. So here he was, standing in a Telegraph exchange, alarm bells ringing in his ear, the smell of cordite in his nostrils, a Millitaman tapping out messages, whilst the rest waited for the inevitable retributive attack by the Governor's men. They wouldn't have long. So, instead of telling them to Fold, Gideon had decided to disobey his orders, and instead do what the situation on the ground was telling him to do. He told them to impede the invasion of the Canadians in every capacity available to them, or, failing that, to fall back to Sacramento. He told them to co-operate with anyone willing to resist the Canadians, but not to endanger themselves unduly in doing so. It wasn't what the Quorum might want, but it was, he believed, in the spirit of what Brigham Young would desire. "Gideon! Mounted Infantry on their way! We've stirred up a Hornet's Nest with this little raid!" shouted one of his men from outside, keeping watch. "Blast! Alright, we're done here. I don't care how many messages we've left to send, drop everything and lets move. To the horses and the trucks. We're getting out of here, one way or another." Gideon picked up his Carbine from the table, and slung it over his shoulder, taking one last look at the Telegraph station he had been sat at. He took a stick grenade from his waistbelt pouch, and placed it on top of the machine. Then, running to the door, he turned and with one smooth motion fired at the Grenade, with practiced skill and precision. The explosion wasn't large, but it was sufficient to wreck the equipment, and prevent anyone from tracing the wire. The cells would be safe form the Governor's scrutiny. "Come on, Gideon! They're unloading!" Bullets began to whiz overhead, as Territorial Guardsmen began dismounting and unloading from Trucks into the Courtyard, not far from where the Mormon Milltia were themselves trying to escape. A bloody shortrange firefight ensued, which the Mormons would lose. "Quick! This way!" Retreating from the onslaught, they quickly passed through the Telegraph Exchange, running to escape out the back and hopefully lose their pursuers in the alleyways. Their plan was simple, disperse, and meet up outside Eureka at a pre-arranged Rendezvous point. From there, they would gather the Mormon Millita and anyone willing to ride with them, and head to Sacramento. From there, Gideon hoped he could co-ordinate a better fightback. He just hoped that not too many of his coreligionists perished in the oncoming onslaught. He offered a quick prayer to the Heavens, and disappeared into the Streets of Eureka. Elsewhere, coded messages began to be recieved along the Northern Californian Telegraph wires. Those watching the Posts quickly made a note of the dots and dashes, and rode off to inform their Cells throughout the wild Frontier. Crescent City might have fallen with ease, but even token resistance would now be somewhat organised, at least amongst the Mormons, who fell back to their own prepared hideouts and holdups, stockpiling feed for their horses and ammunition for their ageing rifles. |
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| Drake | Mar 22 2011, 11:08 PM Post #17 |
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60km north of Eureka General Graham at his temporary headquarters in Klamath Graham was fuming as he read from reports and looked at maps. He stood there in his temporary head-quarters set up in the second level of a bank. It was the highest point for kilometers around. Klamath was a very small town situated on the Klamath River, a 300 meter wide obstacle between Crescent City, and Eureka. Graham’s entire army was stopped dead when they discovered the bridge had been partly destroyed. His vanguard force was supposed to capture and hold vital bridges, but they had arrived too late. There are other ways around, other bridges, but this is the most direct route, and secondary roads were in poor condition, and very narrow. For Graham to get his armour and heavy guns where they were needed, he had to stop, and rebuild this bridge. Graham’s army was setting up a perimeter around the town and they began to move artillery pieces into position to fire at the opposite shore. Graham expected some resistance from there when they began reconstructing the bridge, so he would be prepared, and he would show no mercy to those who would subvert his destiny. While his men toiled away building bridges and securing the immediate vicinity, Graham busied himself with planning an assault on Eureka. Intelligence reports and reconnaissance photos predicted a much stiffer resistance than at Crescent City. Compared to Crescent, Eureka was a veritable fortress. To the north or Eureka was Arcata Bay, to the east and south lay mountains covered in thick forest, and to the west was the Pacific Ocean, and multiple winding rivers surrounded the city on all sides. Eureka was totally unapproachable except for a few main roads and highways; these were choke points, perfect for ambushes. An amphibious assault was also out of the question. Eureka was defended from the ocean waves by a massive 20km long break water. Landing men here would be easy, but getting them across the narrow but deep channel and into the city proper would be impossible under battle conditions. There was also only one point of entrance to the harbour, a narrow opening in the break-water. This was yet another choke point, perfect for ambushes and traps. This was incredibly frustrating for Graham, he knew his men and machines could easily crush the resistance in Eureka, but the natural defensive posture of the city would make every defender count for ten against his soldiers. If Graham wasn’t careful, it would be a bloodbath for both sides, he had to protect his men. Yet another problem Graham had to deal with was the refuges, angry and violent people, dislodged from their homes and looking for someone to blame. They continued to pack the roads and harass the soldiers. Graham was going to have to crack down on them. When his column was ready to move out again, his soldiers would have new orders regarding these refuges. For the time being they have been pushed out of Klamath and refused entry. For now though, he needed to devise a way of capturing Eureka and making sure to keep his casualties low. It was a difficult proposition, but if anyone could lead these men to victory, it would be him, a man of destiny and glory. OOC: Just some notes about simple ways of defending Eureka Spoiler: click to toggle Edited by Drake, Mar 30 2011, 12:15 AM.
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| Vextra | Apr 4 2011, 01:12 AM Post #18 |
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SIEGE OF EUREKA, NORTHERN CALIFORNIA DAY THREE On the Sixth day since Brother Gideon and a large number of Mormons had left Eureka, and the Third day since the Canadian Army began to surround the city, things were rapidly settling into Siege conditions. Eureka had thrown up ramshackle barricades, trenches, and earthworks at all the key defensive points. The Canadians had begun shelling the City on Day Two, after its call for surrender had gone unheeded. Airplanes had also begun buzzing the city, but so far no real bombing, nothing on an industrial scale at anyrate. The Eurekans had pulled together suprisingly well and suprisingly quickly in the face of the Canadian Army. Years of self-reliance in the face of banditry, harsh local geographic conditions, and sproadic outbreaks of Influenza had ensured that Californians were by and large a hardy bunch, living on America's Last Frontier. Governor Hughes, despite having spent much of his time living the life of an Urban Aristocrat, had acted quickly to fortify his control over this "little corner of the United States" and had been furious after the Mormons had destroyed the Telegram Exchange. It hadn't been hard to repair, it had only been a single grenade or two afterall, but he was still livid, and had ordered all remaining Mormons to be imprisoned or deported from the City immediately. He'd then given an hour-long speech to the residents of Eureka, appealing to their sense of Independence and regionalist pride, telling them that he would be damned if he was going to let some jumped up British Imperialist Wannabes overrun HIS town. This had seemed to work, and the ragtag defence had quickly fallen into place. The Canadians could of stormed the city on day one, as most of the defences at that time were mostly for show. Straw soldiers and staked barricades, complete with mocked up guns. Day two, they'd managed to fill in more of the gaps. Day Three, they were ready to endure the siege, all food stored carefully, fire patrols on standby, and men always manning the barricades, with Central Command established firmly with Hughes and his Territorial Guard Commander, Colonel Jebediah Winters. Colonel Winters was a hard man with a long beard and a fiercely loyal Methodist who despised the Mormons and the Baptists for their racism and lack of humanistic instincts. He believed implicitly in the mission of the United States, and had years of experience as a trailbreaker. He essentially commanded the defence, and knew that Eureka couldn't stand against a modern mechanised army, not in a real fight. Encouraging the Canucks to besiege them andd elay their advance was the best they could do. It was a harsh truth, but Winters was relying on relief columns to come from the Southern Warlords and, he hated to admit it, the Mormons, who were the only close millitary forces who stood a chance of opposing the Canadians. Not for the last time, he'd wished the US had been able to sustain more of a millitary presence in California, but it had been supremely difficult resupplying them, and there had been decades of internecine conflict across the Midwest, and only so many places the US could afford to send men. Checking the lines, Winters cut a dashing figure in his khaki US Army uniform, his stripes clearly visible. He had a fine Winchester carbine slung over one shoulder, and wore a crooked cowboy hat, emphasising his past as a Pioneer. "Keep a stiff lip, boys. Don't let those Beavers see you shake." He said, encouraging the motley crew of ranch-hands, cattlepokes, gold-panners and drunks that made up the bulk of the Eurekan Millita. In their desperation, they'd accepted Volunteers from all parts of the society. Chinks, Irish, even some Darkies. All had been sworn in, and given a Rifle if they didn't already have one. Light Artillery, such as it existed, had been carefully and tactically placed. It was their only real anti-tank weapon, though bundles of dynamite had been carefully prepared, and would be used as a last measure if absolutely necessary. They'd even found some AP Mines, which had been carefully scattered last night along the main roads. But everything depended on encouraging the Canucks not to attack, to stay their hand. The moment they engaged, Winters was grimly confident it would become a brutal block-to-block fight, and he didn't know if these boys had the fortitude for it. Outside the City, many kilometers distant, the first Mormon Posse was being assembled. Gideon sat astride his horse with discomfort, still weary from all the pell-mell riding he'd been doing over Northern California of late. But it pleased him to see they had assembled a sizable force, some fourty-four men and boys in all. "Alright, brothers, here's the plan. Each of you has been given a sticky grenade and a carbine with twenty rounds of ammunition, aswell as a Colt revolver with some extra shots just in case. We will ride across this ridge here-" he gestured to the hills in the distance-" and we will descend onto the Main Roads being used by the Canucks to resupply their forces encircling Eureka. We are to engage ONLY their supply vehicles. I cannot emphasise how important it is that you save your ammunition and MOST IMPORTANTLY your explosives only for them! Do not engage their jeeps, and for all that is holy, do not be damned fools and try to take on Armoured Cars or any Tanks! Ride like the devil himself is coming for you if you see any of them! This is a HIT AND RUN mission. Any fool tries to be a hero, if he survives, I kill him myself. Do you understand?" he pulled out his own heavy Colt Revolver, to emphasise the point. "SIR YES SIR! FOR BRIGHAM AND DESERET!" He smiled. "Attaboys. LETS GET TO IT MEN!" He yelled, and spurred his horse onwards, quickly into a gallop. The rest followed. There would be Thunder in the Hills of California, before long. |
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| Drake | Apr 5 2011, 05:00 AM Post #19 |
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Siege of Eureka, Northern California Day three General Graham was yet again frustrated. He had to abandon his well laid plans for a rapid assault on the city of Eureka due to weather conditions and an overflow of civilians immediately outside the city. Instead of capturing the city in an afternoon he was forces to instead surround it and conduct a grueling siege. Even still Graham salvaged the situation somewhat, he had his men create and inner and outer defensive line. This way he could conduct a siege and defend against exterior attacks. Supply into the city had been cut off and so were the telegraph lines. Radio was now the only means of communication for the defenders trapped inside and Graham’s headquarters was monitoring radio traffic. Graham paid special attention to ensuring his soldiers were in good supply, and particular special attention to defending his supply lines. His army had few weaknesses, and his supply lines were the most obvious one. He detached two companies of jeeps and armoured cars to escort columns of supply trucks up and down the roads. Now that most of the civilians had been cleared away travel was much easier. Also there was a train track running from Crescent City to Eureka, but the locomotive had been destroyed to prevent Canadian use. Graham had ordered a new locomotive weeks ago when they captured Crescent City. It should be operational within days. Now that the Canadian Army was in a full blown siege Graham had to change his thinking a little bit. Originally he did not want to rely heavily on artillery or tanks for this battle. There are too many civilians involved, but now the story was different. Without cover and support any assault would be devastating. Graham's main concern was to keep his own casualties down, so he would use his war machines, and if civilians weren't smart enough to run when the shells started landing then their deaths would be on their own hands. To that end Graham ordered his main battery to the front and they began shelling the city on the second day of the siege. His other arm of support was the navy, stationed 10 kilometers off shore. The FCS Hudson Bay was launching aircraft sorties over the city. For the most part trying to scare the enemy, however tomorrow would be different. Starting tomorrow at first light fighters with HE rockets would begin strafing defensive positions within the city. Their main targets were the two armories, leveling those building would put a serious hamper on the defender's ability to hold out. Graham decided against a naval bombardment, the risk of damage to the harbour was too great, and like he had thought, there was a freighter blocking the small harbour entrance. For now Graham watched Eureka from the top of his armoured car as Canadian shells leveled buildings. He could hear the occasional .280 Ross, indicating that his snipers were doing their jobs. There overlooking his siege lines he would wait for his moment to strike. Somewhere North of Euraka Capt. Hilson of the 7th Light Armoured Battalion Hilson was standing up in his turret enjoying the light breeze created when one is motoring along at 18km/h. He looked down and admired the Humber Armoured Car he stood in. It wasn’t the biggest or the newest armoured vehicle in the Canadian Army, but it was fast and maneuverable and impervious to small arms. It was also a mobile weapons platform with a 15mm automatic cannon and an 8mm machine gun. To infantry and unarmoured vehicles, the Humber was a nightmare. Hilson was moving along the Canadian supply column with the three other vehicles in his squad and a whole other squad farther ahead. They were babysitting a group of supply trucks and tankers. It wasn’t exactly a glorious assignment, but it kept him away from the danger, and that was all he cared about, soon he could return to his wife and two sons. They continued for a few minutes, Hilson scanning the surrounding country-side and occasionally looking out over the ocean to just admire the calm beauty of it. He just wished he would hear the water, it was impossible to hear anything over the roar of the engines and other vehicles. Without warning his armoured car stopped dead, Hilson jerking forward. The truck just in front of them was also stopped, its driver getting out. The driver was inspecting the tires, they had a flat, but something was wrong. The driver jumped back into his cabin and the radio cracked to life “It’s a gunshot, a gunshot, they’re in the trees.” Hilson, “Gunner! Traverse gun left 90o. Driver get us away from the column” Driver, “I can’t sir, we are boxed in!” Hilson, “Just try, push our way out if you have too.” Hilson reached down and grabbed his Lanchester submachine gun, and just as he looked back up he noticed horsemen galloping from the tree line. “Gunner open fire, anything on a horse! Drive get us the hell out of here.” Hilson screamed as he shouldered his gun and opened fire knocking a man off his horse as the main gun of his armoured car opened fire. He could see the 15mm cannon shells exploding as they landed, blowing men and beast apart when they found their target. The horsemen closed to the supply column quickly and began throwing grenades and bundles of dynamite. One man galloped hard for the truck just in front of Hilson’s car. Hilson shot at him and wounded the horse, the man threw his bundle anyway, which landed under the truck. Hilson was terrified, that truck was loaded with artillery shells. “Shiiiiiiiii...” Hilson screamed as he ducked into his armoured car, praying that the thin armour would save his life. A massive explosion and his car went tumbling, Hilson and his crew like rag-dolls inside the metal coffin. The armoured car came to rest on its side and Hilson opened his eyes. His gunner was dead, missing half his head. Hilson could see the slivers of daylight shining through small shrapnel holes in the armour. The car was on fire, filling with black smoke, he coughed as he crawled out of the wrecked vehicle. He didn’t bother assessing what was going on, he just saw a man on a horse and emptied the rest of his magazine in the man’s direction before he passed out. The Canadian column had taken casualties. A single armoured car was destroyed along with nine trucks. Enemy casualties we estimated at 20. The casualties were estimated because most of the remaining bodies were not whole, but assorted parts strewn about by 15mm cannon fire. A gruesome scene for the mostly combat inexperienced Canadian soldiers. |
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| Vextra | Apr 6 2011, 07:26 PM Post #20 |
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Siege of Eureka, California Day Five Eureka was burning. Two days of heavy shelling and bombing had cracked the Frontier City, and pushed its defenders and inhabitants to their very limits. The Canadians had been very careful. Any man who tried to leave the city was shot by their punishingly accurate snipers. Any women and children were taken to safety behind the Canadian Lines, and goodness knows what fate. Hughes gritted his teeth, amazed at how calm he felt. Beside him a Guardsman was binding a shrapnel wound on his arm. It hurt like Hell, but somehow, Hughes had never felt more alive. He reflected on his long years of hedonism out here in Eureka, and remembered when he'd been a Unionist, fighting the Good Fight against the Capitalist Top-Hats back East. Those had been his glory days, he reflected. Dodging the Pigs, throwing fire-bombs through the windows of scum like the Vanderbilts and the Fords...good times. Now here he was again, given a Second Chance to remember the kind of man he had been, before he had accepted his exile and life of comfort. Like a Top-Hat, he thought bitterly. Never again, he reminded himself, would he indulge himself quite like the aristos. Now, he lived for this Fight. "Soldier, get me the Colonel. We need to discuss plans. They've stopped shelling for now, but they'll attack soon. I just know it." The soldier nodded, wiping grime and ash off of his face as he moved off to find the Colonel. Everything had very quickly become dirty, Hughes reflected. His grandiose palace was smashed in many places, His once palatial bedchambers completely destroyed. All because of some Fucking Mormon Pirates. Well, he admitted, that wasn't entirely true. He could of surrendered. He could have preserved his life of luxury, and the lives of countless others. But, more so than Greed, his Greatest Sin was Pride. He'd be damned if he was going to let some high falutin' Beavers tell HIM what to do! Scrabbling around the dust-filled room, he managed to find his Desk, somehow still intact. He cleared it of what rubble he could, and managed to find some Maps of the city. he spread them out unevenly across the Desk. As the Colonel entered the room with the guardsman, Hughes could hear off, somewhere in the distance, someone was playing the fiddle. It sounded like "Santy Anno". It made him smile. Clearly the People of Eureka were still in good spirit, despite everything. It had been his greatest fear, that they would turn on their corrupt, spoilt governor, and refuse to fight the Canadians. But to them, this wasn't a Police Action, no matter what propaganda the Canucks churned out. It was an Invasion, of THEIR LAND, THEIR HOMES, and they would be damned if they'd give it up to anyone. They'd fought harder, bloodier, crueler battles against the Calimexicans, and their were a few still old enough to remember the Last Sioux Wars. They'd all been massacred, of course. But the Sioux had fought like devils, down to the last child. Now only their coward half-breeds remained, living lives of desperate poverty on Reservations noone cared about. Hughes swore he would not let the same fate befall Eureka. "Glad you could join me, Colonel. The Canucks are bound to attack soon, So here's what I want us to do..." ================================================ Gideon allowed himself a single tear as they held Prayers for the Spirits of the fallen. They had been unable to recover the Fallen, and they had run hard since they'd hit the Convoy. The Canadians had fought back harder than he'd expected, and had been quick to pursue. Now, finally, safe in an Enclave near the Klamath River, they took stock of their losses, and what to do next. "They are truly in a better place now, Brethren. Never forget, that this Death is only the End of Flesh, and though we must endure this Vale of Tears longer, their time has come, and they may rest with the Saints and Joseph himself." He said, with hollow conviction. It was hard to cling to one's beliefs when eager young boys, some as young as sixteen, had ridden to that Ambush and been gunned down. He consoled himself with the knowledge that they'd hurt the Canucks bad, taking out what seemed to be a shipment of artillery shells and an Armoured Car. Not bad for a ragged band of Desperados. After the Ceremony was concluded, Gideon didnt waste any time. "Refill your Water-bottles at the Riverside, Boys. We're going to hit those Canucks again. This time at Night. We'll wait for them this time, by the Roadside, and let them pass. We'll follow them to where their Supply Camps are, and then we'll strike when they're least expecting it. Remember, we are not alone in this fight. All over Northern California, from Weaverville to Goose Lake, Mormons are heeding the call, sending their Families into safety and readying themselves for the Great Fight. The Canadians are nothing compared to the Great Whore of Babylon that is New York, but these New Phillistines will not have their way in California, rough though she may be, Second Israel to our Zion." He spoke quickly, to fire the men. They'd had their time to Grieve. Now it was time for Revenge. With faith and fury in their hearts, they saddled up, and went off in search of the Enemy. |
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8:27 PM Jul 11
