| Merchants & Menaces; Events of the West coast of North America | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 7 2011, 01:02 AM (836 Views) | |
| Drake | Apr 8 2011, 07:38 PM Post #21 |
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45km north of Eureka, Orick City Lt. Archibald of the Calgary Kilted Devils, 2nd Division Day Seven of the Siege of Eureka Lt. Archi as he preferred to be was not one of those fresh out of military college lieutenants. He was company Sergeant for three years before his commanders decided his talents had been wasted enough and sent him off to officers training. He was rough and tough just like the rest of his men, and his instincts were great, his men trusted him completely. Archi was inspecting his defenses. It was only three days ago that a Canadian supply column was attacked while en route. The Mormon bandits attacked even though the column was defended by armoured cars. This supply base had far less firepower and was a stationary target. Archi knew they were like sitting ducks here. The supply base was more of a rest stop for supply columns, a place to stop, refuel and sleep. It had several petrel trucks just sitting around, all half filled, these would make very large, obvious and extremely dangerous targets for any attackers. Archi continued past the trucks in question and tried not to think about the danger. He found his men at the perimeter, a shambled array of half complete defenses. The men sat in shallow trenches, complete with low sand-bag wall. Beyond the shallow trench was a single string of barb wire. Then beyond the wire about 100 meters was the tree line. Any attack would most likely come from there, but again Archi tried to not think about it. He was prepared as he could be in such a short time, with limited resources, and it didn’t pay to worry. As light faded the men were on 50% watch, with small fires or lamps in their trenches and dug-outs. They played cards or cleaned their guns, unaware of the approaching danger. Over 150 Mormon Militia were slowly creeping their way through the tall grass and brush cover that grew on the slight slope up to the tree line. Archi was returning to the line after delivering a report to their radio station to be relayed. He saw a few men playing cards and was going to discipline them when he saw a silver glint out in the darkness, moonlight reflecting off something metallic. He quickly ran to the trench and alerted his men. The men on watch woke those asleep and they all readied their arms. Archi looked up and down his thin line and saw his men with rifles poised, others doused the flames and lamps. All was silent. *A cough from the darkness* *The cracking of a twig* *A rifle action, chambering a round* “Flares” whispered Archi to his men. He saw them scrambling in the dim moonlight. Moments later a flare was rocketing upwards, bathing everyone in a dim red glow. Archi could immediately see the mass of Militia before him, some not 5 meters away. He screamed “OPEN FIRE!” just as some of his men already began firing. He joined them as the Militia charged and fired wildly. For three minutes the militia continued their attack. Flares burned brightly in the dark sky as muzzles flashed and lead torn flesh. It was a bloody firefight at brutally close range. The fight continued as Canadian machineguns tossed smoking hot brass and quickly suppressed the bold militiamen. After the onslaught things started to quiet down, there was occasional rifle shot, but for the most part the militia were dead, dying, or running. Archi loosened his grip of the rifle, his hands were shaking and he was sure they were bone white, though he could not tell in the dim red glow. His heart was racing and his ear-drums pounding. Adrenaline rushed through his veins and his whole body began to feel cold. After a minute his breathing evened though, and his shivers stopped. His men remained alert and focused. The aftermath of this short firefight was a brutal one. 13 of the 62 men under Lt. Archibald were casualties, nine in hospital, four dead. The Mormon Militia on the other hand suffered 68 dead, and 6 wounded, who were captured and send for questioning. Those six wounded were just those found in the morning by the Canadians, there were likely others which escaped during the night. Archi collected the dog-tags from his dead men, it was a terrible and trying experience, harder than the firefight last night. It was as though he was confirming their deaths. He thought back to the previous night, the rush and exhilaration he felt, and now he reflected on his dead men. He was dreading his next combat, because he knew more of his men would die, and it was a painful idea. At the same time though he couldn’t wait. OOC: This is not Gideon's attack. Just a separate group of Mormon Militia. Edited by Drake, Apr 13 2011, 08:00 PM.
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| Vextra | Apr 13 2011, 08:42 PM Post #22 |
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SIEGE OF EUREKA, CALIFORNIA Day Eight Gideon surveyed the carnage of the supply camp below. It had been swift, and brutal. A bare handful of casualties on his part, and they'd been able to kill almost all of the underprepared guards. By chance, they'd run into a larger band of gung-ho morons who had refused to recognise Gideon's authority as a Nauvoo, and had insisted that they were fightin' the Canucks their way, on behalf of Joseph Smith himself. Saddened, he'd let the Band go on ahead, and had used the opportunity their idiotic attack on a better prepared and equipped camp had created in order to sneak further behind enemy lines. Now that Day was dawning, they could admire their handiwork. Pretty soon the survivors from the larger camp to the south would send men up this way to survey the damage. He intended to leave a strong message to them, that not all their foes were amateurs who threw their own lives away for no good reason. "LeVar, I want you to crucify some of these canuck bodies." Gideon said, with total casualness, as he strolled amongst the debris towards where the prisoners were being held. "Excuse me, Chief?" "You heard me, Brother LeVar. I want you to crucify em. Doesn't need to be a proper job, the symbol should be enough. Remind em that every Canuck soldier we kill is Blood Atonement for this Land. We are going to wash California clean with Canuck blood." Gideon said with total conviction in his voice. LeVar gulped, amazed at the bloodthirstiness of their Leader, but unwilling to question orders. "Hurry it up. We're moving out soon. I'll leave a small posse with you. You can use the Prisoners to finish the job. When your done, Strip the POWs naked and send em running south. Let em know that we aren't playing by their rules, only ours and God's." "Yes sir!" LeVar hurried to obey. As a former Carpenter, he had some idea of what to do, but the grisliness of the task ahead of him made him feel ill. As Gideon saddled up, leaving the men to their grim tasks, He made sure he was silhouetted against the rising Sun, and yelled at the POWs. "You tell everybody that the Nauvoo were here!" and then spurred his horse onwards, further north around Orick City. He intended to double back, of course, and hit them from this side. Confusion, disruption, terror. They would be his watchwords. Little did he know, he was starting a Legend. ================================= The Artillery continued to pound the Cracking City of Eureka. Spirits were rapidly beginning to ebb, and many men, driven crazy by lack of sleep or the constant shelling, had run out screaming at the waiting Canadians before their friends could stop them. They were all cut down. It was incredibly ruthless warfare, and Hughes could only grit his teeth and tighten his waistbelt. Food Supplies had been hit too, and they were all now on rations. They simply weren't prepared for this kind of gruelling Mechanised warfare. Probing attacks had begun on the outskirts, and Hughes had worked quickly to ensure his "Flying Companies" of mounted men and automobile soldiers were dispatched to repel them. But they were a ragtag improvisation, and would play only a small part in his plan. He couldn't wait for their attack much longer. Every day he held them here, he held them from the South that much longer, allowing more time for reinforcements to come, for others to mobilise and ready themselves. So, in a desperate Gamble, he knew what he was going to do. He'd been amassing explosives that were too heavy to use as makeshit anti-armour bombs in the Thick Bomb-Cellar under the ruined Governor's Palace. When the Time Came, he intended to blow it- and, hopefully, the Canadian Army- sky high. With himself far away, hopefully. The problem was rigging a safe spot with the plunger. Under this artillery barrage, any wires were likely to be cut. It was a conundrum. Even the Colonel hadn't thought of a solution yet. Hughes walked amongst the wounded and tired refugees that huddled for shelter in the crypts of the ruins of Eureka's biggest Protestant Church, a former Spanish Mission with solid walls. The walls shook from the ferocity of the bombardment outside, and Hughes stopped to check on a shivering, emaciated woman clutching a baby to her breast. He realised with dismay that the child was dead. Saying nothing, he continued onwards, brushing a tear from his eye. "Colonel? We have to make these Canadians pay. Not just for ourselves, or Eureka, but the very soul of the United States itself." "Aye, sir. We'll find a way." |
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| Drake | Jun 2 2011, 02:22 PM Post #23 |
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A hilltop overlooking Eureka General Graham aboard his command vehicle Graham looked through his field glasses at the battlefield below. It was mid morning and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, a perfect day for an assault. Graham had chosen a dangerous gambit. In the early hours of the morning, just as the sun began to rise, he had his artillery batteries open up with high-explosive shells. The shells impacted on the outskirts of the city, demolishing buildings and creating a smoke screen. Grahams infantry and armour began to move in, covered by the heavy artillery barrage ahead of them. The infantry had a small distance to cross and were right on time as the artillery stopped. They charged into the city and began the slow task of clearing it out. They passed ruble piles, once buildings, now demolished by heavy fighting. As the men and armour moved they found little resistance, many had died and still more had thrown down their arms after being broken by days of artillery and precision air-strikes. It was a painful site for the soldiers to see the many dead strewn through the streets. By 2pm the men had reached the governors palace, or what was left of it. Yesterday evening had seen it utterly obliterated by 19" shells courtesy of FCS Norfolk battlecruiser. Now there was a token force of regulars defending the fractured building. By 6pm the city was mostly in the control of the Canadians. Governor Harry Bridges was killed when his motorcade was laced with machine gun fire while trying to escape the war-torn city. By nightfall there were a few patches of isolated fighting, but for the most part the Canadians had prevailed. Most casualties had been sustained from ambushes or traps. Makeshift mines planted in the streets or ruble were the more devastating, but overall it was bloody for both sides. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ As Graham assesed the damages from his tent that night he felt disappointed in himself. He had to move faster, and he needed to be ready for the inevitable attacks he would face from the Nuevoo Brethren. He had gotten reports of there attack on his small and unprepared supply camp, and the way in which the bodies of his men had been desecrated. It was a completely dishonourable and cruel tactic. The news had spread to his men, and anger had taken them. In the morning Graham would have new rules of engagement for his men. The Neuvoo seemed to pride themselves on their ability to be cruel and inhuman. Graham would show them that he is far worse. He sat down and began to write out orders for his officers, they would contest, being brave and honourable Canadian men, but they were orders and would be followed dutifully by all. Edited by Drake, Jun 3 2011, 05:36 PM.
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| Drake | Jun 3 2011, 06:12 PM Post #24 |
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Eureka, California General Graham at his Headquarters in Eureka After a long and depressing night in his tent Graham had moved his flag to this partly damaged building, it was a grand meeting hall, used by the militias as a barracks, now used by the Canadians to co-ordinate efforts in California. Yesterday had been a major hurtle for Graham and his men. The capturing of Eureka promised to throw a huge damper in enemy capability. However there were still more hurtles ahead, Sacramento, San Francisco, and maybe even Los Angeles. Graham needed to be prepared for them all, for anything the Nuevoo would throw at him. From his new office he took to managing logistics, it was a necessary divergence from his usual strategical planning. Graham typically disapproved of micromanagement, but in this case, he couldn't help himself. He looked over the report laid down in front of him. The railway had finally been repaired and now supplies and men were flowing from Crescent City to Eureka in the thousands of men and tons of material. Eureka's massive deep water port had been cleared of rusting hulks and was now servicing Canadian supply and troop ships. Every hour of the day men were working feverishly to offload equipment and supply. Next week a new fleet of troop ships was due to arrive with 50000 more men, and their vehicles. For now though Graham was most focused on converting the makeshift airstrip he had fashioned into a fledgling airport. He needed to be able to land larger aircraft, they would be instrumental in his future plans for the Nuevoo, and Deseret. Heavy equipment was flattening and compacting the loose dry soil at that very moment. Next in line on Graham's mind was his defensive posture. He knew that support was growing in the south, both local and foreign. Within weeks there could be standing armies marching for his position, seeking to dislodge him from his comfortable foothold. During the siege of Eureka he had some of his divisions moving East, and two days ago they reached interstate 5. Now Graham commanded as far South as Eureka, and as far East as interstate 5. It was a vast area to defend, but his men were up to it. They could be out numbered, but they had artillery and close air support, and every day more and more men joined the line. Defensively, Graham would be fine for a few weeks, maybe a month, and in the meantime he would show the Mormons the long arm of the Federal Canadian Military. Graham took a short break from his paperwork and sipped on some holy wine captured from a church, "The blood of Christ" he though with a chuckle. He thought about his Nuevoo counterpart, the madman leading those murders and cutthroats that Deseret calls their "Elite". What was that man like? He had after all ordered the crucifying of soldiers on the battlefield, such a contemptible action. Did he have children? Was he a good father? War was cruel, perhaps seeing your fellows die changes a man? Maybe it makes him wild and without human emotion. Graham shook the thoughts from his head. These thoughts didn't matter. If Graham ever found his counterpart he would make sure the man gets a visit or two from Major Imles, then a visit to the gallows. Edited by Drake, Jun 3 2011, 06:20 PM.
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8:27 PM Jul 11
