The World of The Gunny

The amphibious transport shook violently as it screamed across the ocean. The water itself, distilled ebony. Lightning tore the sky asunder as thunder roared. The transport was one of thousands pounding over the waves, ready to drop its deadly cargo on dry land, just over the horizon.

Overhead, thirteen F-169 Demon fighters screamed toward the shore, loosed by the USS Theodore Roosevelt, an American aircraft carrier. The pilots fell into formation as they approached the beach. Bunkers, containing both infantry and armor lined the beach, waiting for the arrival of the Americans. As they moved in closer, the pilots let the first salvo of missiles fly. Bunker after bunker blossomed with hellish light as the ordinance hit home. A shrill warning screamed in a pilot’s ears just before his plane disintegrated, a testament to the anti-aircraft capabilities of their foe. The group lost two more while they strafed the site, returning to the Roosevelt only when they had fired all their missiles and their Gauss cannons were dry.

What started as general trade disagreements between the EU and US quickly spiraled out of control in the late 21st century. Now, on Christmas Eve 2099, after months of brutal fighting pretty much everywhere except the homelands of either side, the United States had started the Big Push.

Landing on England was out of the question, at least at this point in the war. The main offensive must take place on the continent, to destroy more of the EU’s forces and member countries. With a large portion of invadable countries decidedly neutral, there was only one place for the US to land. The EU knew it too, but wasn’t able to shore up the defenses fast enough, and before the job was done almost a million American soldiers and Marines were making their way towards the Spanish coastline.

Though the country they were invading was technically Spain, it had been Portugal once, decades before. A brief war occurred between the EU and Portugal when it tried to resign its membership from the organization. After their victory the EU placed all of Portugal’s land under the Spanish government. With the daunting tasks of defeating beach defenses and crossing the Pyrenees Mountains, the Americans were prepared to do anything to win.

The bunker shook again and loose pieces of plaster and ceiling tile file to the floor in the control room of the EU’s Beach Defense Force. Located a mere ten kilometers from the beach, the building had become a prime target to American aircraft. Their aircraft could have challenged the American Demons, but due to strikes from the American’s orbital weaponry, the EU’s aircraft were out of commission for the most part. When the Americans won in space, they won in the air. But the EU Army would be damned if they were going to let them win on the ground.

“Captain Howell, get over here!” Colonel Rodriguez barked in thickly accented English. When the British officer joined the colonel at a large map of the coastline he watched as digital displays of the forces at the water changed in real time. American fighters, represented on the map as red triangles, continued to fly over the EU defenses, each bunker a blue square. As he watched, three bunkers disappeared and a fighter icon turned red and blinked out. “American Orbital Delivery Vehicles are on their way down. Intel confirms that four of them, enough for two full companies, are on a course to land three kilometers away. Pull some reserves and meet them when they land. We cannot lose this command center!”

“American Drop Troops, fifteen minutes out,” a tech called out, as if to reinforce the urgency of the orders.

“Yes sir, right away sir.” The captain turned on his heel and left the room, intent on meeting the Yankees as their vessels touched down.

Inside a transport barreling towards the beach, men checked and re-checked their weapons. The soldiers inside had been through battles in several fronts. Most recently Australia, and Hawaii before that. Only two of the thirty men on board hadn’t seen action. Second Lieutenant Brian Baker, a decorated veteran who had only recently graduated from West Point, moved to the rear of the transport, standing by the aft wall, from which the exit ramp would be deployed. When the ramp hit dirt, he was going to be the first one off.

PFC Michael Flowers had the crucifix he normally wore around his neck in his hands, praying silently. Corporal Lance Ardenn sidled up to the young man. “You honestly think that shit’s gunna save your soul, Flowers?” The PFC opened his eyes and looked at the corporal, unsure of how to respond. “Get your gun, private, that’ll save your life.”

“Beach two minutes out!” Baker called from the hatch. “I want everyone out before the ramp hits sand!” Men throughout the transport grabbed their gear and weapons, and took firm grip of the handholds set into the ceiling of the transport. Moving towards the exit, they looked more than ready to kill.

Out on the plain near the Beach Defense Force Command Center, Captain Howell waited nervously for the telltale sign of American Orbital Delivery Forces. There! There it was. Bright lights streaked through the sky as the American Drop Troops plummeted through the upper atmosphere. Their delivery vehicles, intended to be used but once, were designed to come down on a course that would allow it to kill most of its speed before hitting dirt. The men had deployed along a row of hills flanking the plain, waiting.

The last time Howell had faced the famed American Drop Troops was in Australia, and he was none too eager to repeat that experience. He was a lieutenant stationed at a major supply depot. How clearly he remembered that bright morning…

After a brief officer’s meeting to discuss the possibility of an American offensive, Howell stepped outside the main barracks, and saw the strangest thing in the otherwise clear sky: four bright lights burning in the sky. Then the lights slowed and seemed to spiral. It looked as if they were coming straight at them. How odd he thought. Other soldiers had noticed it too, and several were pointing at the sky. One older officer, a major, called out something, but it was too late.

Four enormous Drop Vehicles smashed into the ground inside the base. The baked Australian soil cracked and split, sending up plumes of dirt. Massive doors slid open and enemy soldiers poured out. The fighting had been intense, and had lasted for hours. The American soldiers had been beaten though, at tremendous cost.

Howell himself had been wounded severely in the fighting, and had to be evacuated in a transport Hopper. While in the air he moved to the window just as the sky split, and an intense beam of light burned to the earth. The bright light blinded him, and when he could see again his worst fears had been realized. The US had used one of their damnable Particle Cannons to burn the base when their soldiers couldn’t take it.

The Particle Cannons were one of two common American orbital weaponry systems, the other being Heavy Orbital Rail Guns. Those were designed for surgical strikes, if the main delivery system was used. The shell delivered by that was enough to clear everything in a half-mile radius. The secondary delivery system was capable of delivering a half-dozen smaller shells in that same area. The main cannon’s fire was time and energy consuming, so that was left to be used on buildings and compounds, while the secondary fire was a very quick method for dealing with enemy troop formations.

Comparable EU technology had never made it into orbit, as the US had their weapons satellites in orbit first, and were able to knock out any potential launch site in EU controlled lands. Though America ruled the stars and skies, the EU owned the ground. Their armored vehicles were second to none, and the technology of their basic infantry weapons passed the Americans as well.

Howell shook himself out of his reverie. That was years ago, on a different continent. Now he wouldn’t be surprised by the Yankee’s tricks. The transports were fast approaching now. “I want fire on the doors before they open!” He yelled, just as the first transport touched down, and the plains were alive with the sounds of a firefight.

If the fighting on the plains was intense, the fighting at the beach was hellish. The transport hit the beach and the ramp smashed into the soft sand. The American soldiers rushed out into a sea of light. Enemy gunfire raked the beach, cutting down the Yankees left and right. Baker ordered his men to follow him and set off down the beach. Sprinting up the beach, taking cover where they could, third platoon found themselves right outside an enemy bunker.

Upon reaching the seemingly impenetrable portal, Baker ordered a breaching charge from a sergeant. Placing it on the door at the appropriate spot, he and his men backed off while the plasma charge detonated, blowing the door and a sizeable portion of the plasma itself into the bunker. The explosion was followed by a pair of grenades. After the grenades had gone off he risked peeking into the structure. Everyone inside was dead, no doubt about it. His next orders were cut off by a pair of Demon fighters flying high overhead, towards the fighting on the plains beyond the beach.

Howell was fighting for his life, the Drop Vehicles, which had only been used for infantry before, carried a startling surprise. Inside each vehicle was a single US tank, along with a platoon of soldiers. Fighting vehicles he couldn’t kill with the weapons at his disposal, he knew the battle was lost. He was about to order a retreat when two American fighters roared into the fray, spraying the area with their Gauss cannons. The men hit by the terrible weapons seemed to explode, sending blood and body parts flying.

He knew then, right before it happened. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you know, but either it only happens to certain people, or they lied. All Howell saw were the scared faces of the young men at his command, and seemingly solid lightning strikes down the beach. Almost instantly after he realized what would happen, it did, and Captain Howell of the EU Army was blown to smithereens.

“Ground forces, be advised, particle cannon strikes inbound. Move a safe distance from the bunkers immediately.” The voice crackled over every headset on the US line. A timer appeared on every American’s HUD, displaying how long they had to reach a safe position. Baker looked around. Safe was a relative term. Though a lot of the bunkers at the front were dead, they were bound to catch fire just as bad as the next few lines. He could either move his men back to the beach, or take them up, between lines, and be at the mercy of the second bunker line’s fire. Not exactly a tough decision.

The men reached the beach and hit the dirt, fast. Just as the last man reached some semblance of cover, the sky was ripped apart.

Streaming white lines of energy burned through the air, smashing into bunkers and tearing through them like hot knives through butter. The satellites adjusted their aim, and the beams raked across the bunker lines, sparing no one. Gunter Schmidt, a sergeant in the EU army, saw what was heading towards him and his men, and had no intention of getting fried. Ordering his men out of the bunker they bolted for the next line back. As they came up on the fourth line though, yet another satellite fired, smashing into the steel and concrete fortress. Though they were far enough away that they weren’t seriously injured, the blast and shockwave knocked them off their feet and deafened them. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the Particle Cannons stopped firing.

Before he had time to wonder at this, another terrible sound met his ears. A screaming whine that could only mean one thing. A Heavy Orbital Rail Gun, or several, had started shelling the defenses. As he watched, a Primary Round struck a bunker line, and half of the structures disintegrated. The scene was repeated up and down the lines, as the ordinance rained in. “Mein Gott” he whispered. Though he had been involved in fighting in Africa, he had never seen these terrible weapons used. The senior men spoke of them, always in whispers, as if telling ghost stories. What faced him now was far more scary than any ghost story he had ever heard though.

With the beach defenses all but totally obliterated, the order came through to retreat, and pull back to Grandola, a city less than twenty-five kilometers inland. Also home to the 130th Tank Brigade. The armor on the beach had been from this unit, and as such, they would now be undermanned. But unless the Americans landed armor support quickly, the EU hoped to fall back, regroup, and push them back into the sea. They knew that this was their only chance to stop them, and if they failed here all of Spain would fall.

Standing up on the beach, Baker led his men back to the hills. Ahead of them, where just moments ago had been lines of EU bunkers filled with armor and men, now lay smoking craters, testaments to the effectiveness of the American orbital weaponry. Moving ahead further, they were able to link up with the rest of the company. Flights of Demons streamed overhead, chasing the retreating EU forces. Far in the distance more lights streaked through the sky, cutting off the retreat.

A cheer rose up among the men, and they pushed forward eagerly. The enemy was beaten, the beach was theirs, and morale was high. They would have been a lot less enthusiastic if they knew that the 130th Tank Brigade, blessedly missed by the orbital strikes, was barreling down on them full speed at that very moment, infantry in tow.

BOS, your mil Sci Fi Writing is getting better. Keep up the good work.

One hint though, a lone Armor Bn even if reinforced with Infantry could not succeed due to the naval assets usually assigned to ANY amphib assault. Remember Gela and Iwo. I would suggest making it at least a Brigade and that way it could be like Gela with a lot of nail-biting scary moments. Till the Navy 'clears its throat'.

You need more Space-Borne Marine assaults, but then again I may be biased.

By the way, how did this war against the EU get started, and what is the rest of the world like?




Cheers, Thorgrimm

Okay, I'm gunna edit that. I didn't know what size I should have made it, so I'll fix that.

As for how the war got started and the rest of the world, a lot of the other combat theatres will be explained in flashbacks, as will the cause of the war. I kind of hinted at it when I said it was about trade disagreements, but that's only the tip of the iceberg. So stay tuned

As far as more Marine landings, not only is there something in the works for that, but expect a new character to get some attention. A PFC or lance corporal in the Marines probably.

BOS, if that is the answer I WILL expect prompt and timely new posts on this story.




Cheers, Thor

High above the fight, a Demon pilot surveyed the damage wrought by the satellites. Continuing his flight, his eyes bugged. Tanks swarmed across the plains like insects driven from their nests. He relayed the sighting to his CO and turned to strafe the column. Flying over, the stacatto rattle of his Gauss cannons fire accompanied the roar of his missiles as the armored vehicles in his sights disintegrated.

On his second pass he took a hit to his wing, and fought to control the plane. Flipping up the guard, he mashed the Eject button on the console in front of him. There was a rush of air as the canopy above him detached from the body of the plane. He waited for the blast to take him out of the plane, but something must have malfunctioned. The ground rose fast in his view. Damning the lowest bidder yet again, he hit the emergency release on his harness and bailed out the old fashioned way.

Air attacks had been sporadic for the entire trip, but Gunter was confident in the capabilities of the attached anti-air battalions. Tanks up and down the line exploded as one jet made a particularly large nuisance of himself, and the German sergeant was happy to see a missile scream out and destroy the left wing of the aircraft. When he saw what was going to happen, he stood dumbfounded for a moment before running to get behind another tank. He was too late, and when the plane crashed into the vehicle, he was peppered with chunks of hot metal. “Doktor!” he yelled, “medic!” A medic ran to him and started talking, but Gunter couldn’t hear him. The world went black as he lost consciousness.

“Ground forces, be advised,” their headsets crackled for the second time that night, “Enemy armor inbound, ten minutes out. Repeat, armor brigade inbound, ETA ten minutes, air support is on the way” All along the American lines commanders herded their men into any defensible spot and prepared to engage. The men were ready, almost all of them had gone up against the EU’s tanks before, but none were too keen to repeat the experience.

The American armor was good, strong, fast, sturdy, but it paled in comparison to the EU Teufel Panzer. German designed, as the name suggests, it was quickly adopted by all of the European Union to be their MBT, or Main Battle Tank. It boasted a Plasma Cannon as its main armament, but had two automated laser turrets fixed into the armor at the top of the front section. Its armor is made of a new compound American scientists can only guess at, and is lightweight and extremely strong. Only the most advanced US anti-tank weapons can penetrate it, though the vehicle itself is lighter than the American MBT, the Washington.

Baker made sure his men were ready, then took his position on the line. Facing a tank advance for the second time in his military career, he was transported back to Hawaii, the first time he fought the EU and their damnable armor.

Holding Honolulu was an incredibly difficult task, and due to storms in the upper atmosphere satellite surveillance, and therefore satellite support, was inactive. Americans technically controlled the city, but sections of the capital were being continuously lost and regained by both sides. To further complicate matters, the enemy forces had somehow managed to jam their radios, and communication higher than platoon level was impossible.

Baker and his men were holding the Hawaii State Capitol building, in the downtown part of the city. A week ago, before the communications clusterfuck, tanks had been reported in the city, and a heavy weapons squad was attached to Baker’s platoon. Now with men on every floor, he had them looking every way. Men on the southwest corner reported seeing a fight near the corner of South King and Alakea street. Just as that report came in about a dozen US Marines came streaming around the corner, occasionally turning to lay down cover fire for their comrades.

Once they reached the safety of the capitol building, the reason for their flight became obvious. A pair of EU tanks, with about a platoon of infantry for support, was steaming up the street. Two of the Marines were badly wounded, and the corpsmen in the building came down to help them while a pair of PFCs went off to the Company HQ on Fort Street, which had hardwired communications to the airport.

The tanks turned to come up the street, and by now the infantry with them were putting out suppressing fire, trying to stop the Americans from using anything that could potentially pop their tanks. Twin blasts from the tanks shredded much of the roof, including a fireteam with an anti-tank missile. Another salvo swept through the ground floor, killing two of the Marines, and a man from the platoon. An infantryman came running down the stairs, a rocket launcher on his shoulder.

He ducked out the hole in the wall left by the most recent barrage and fired at the charging mechanical beast. The rocket tore through the tank, and it went up in a blue-white flame. Just as the man turned to race back into the building, the Plasma Cannon on the surviving tank roared, and a blinding light enveloped him. Corporal Henry, second squad, was no more. His family would later receive his Bronze Star, awarded posthumously.

Two of the men from the anti-tank attachment, Baker couldn’t remember their names, bounded down from above, but were cut down by laser fire before they could even shoulder their launchers. The Marines had been working with Baker’s own men to stop the infantry from reaching the building, but the EU soldiers surged forth, and several made it in. The ground floor was alive with fire as the Marines and more of Baker’s men rushed in to stop them.

Grabbing the launcher from the floor, Baker looked into the sight. The tank loomed to fill the entire screen, as it approached. Seemingly oblivious to the fight raging around him, Baker let the rocket fly. He flew forward himself immediately, he had been too close to the wall and the backblast from the rocket had thrown him forward, and singed his uniform. The men moved to push back the EU soldiers when a roar from overhead announced the arrival of the Hoppers. All the surviving Americans pulled back to the roof to be extracted.

The infantry streamed up the stairs, as Baker and a trio of Marines brought up the rear, firing quickly at the advancing EU infantry. It seemed the platoon they had seen with the tanks was an advance unit, it looked like more than a company was pushing up the street. Baker was moving to the stairs as a Gauss round hit him in the leg, and everything below his knee seemed to disappear. Two of the Marines grabbed him and carried him up the stairs while the third covered their retreat.

On the roof, the first Hopper had landed, and the second was hovering, there wasn’t much room, and it wouldn’t be safe to have them both on the limited space. Baker was loaded in with the two wounded Marines and what remained of his platoon. The men were packed in like sardines, and two of them even had to grip rails on the exterior of the vehicle to stay in, their legs dangling out the open sides. The remaining Marines would have to board the second Hopper.

EU forces made it to the roof at that moment, one of them carrying a rocket launcher. For some inconceivable reason he fired at the hovering Hopper, and it was critically damaged. It slewed as the pilot tried to keep control, but it shed altitude fast and crashed into building across the street, erupting in a giant fireball. “Go! We’ll cover you!” A Marine, a gunnery sergeant by the stripes on the shoulders of his Combat Armor, called. The pilot didn’t need to be told twice, and the Hopper took off like a shot.

Before they had taken off Baker saw something in that Marine’s eyes, a grim certainty. He knew that staying behind would mean death, but he was willing to make that sacrifice to be sure fellow Yankees would make it home safe. Baker would later learn that the man, Gunnery Sergeant Dickinson, was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions then.

Though he still marveled at the Marine’s bravery, he turned his attention to the matter at hand. Staring into the scope of an anti-tank weapon, he again saw an EU Teuful Panzer loom large in the screen. And again, he fired.


I'm sure you notice the not-too-subtle tribute to The Gunny

BOS, getting better, and I liked the tribute. Keep up the good work.




Cheers, Thor

Marine Corporal Adam Bryant shuddered violently as the transport burned through the atmosphere. Gripping his weapon tightly, well, as tightly as he could in his Power Armor without breaking it, he waited for the transport to hit dirt. He had been recalled from American Station 1313 on the moon just three weeks ago. Everyone on Station 26 was a Colonial Marine, and the Station had sent down almost its entire Orbital Landing Force. Apparently the dogs on the ground needed serious help.

At 2200 the company had been put on high alert, and had to be ready to drop in five minute’s notice. When the landing craft hit the beach several companies had gone down to support them, most landing behind the lines to raise some hell with the reinforcements. Bryant had eagerly wished to join them, to help out the men on the ground. Interservice rivalries had always existed, but in this landing, in this war, there was no distinction. Americans were Americans, and the Yankees stood by each other.

Then the call came. Already in the majority of his armor, Bryant grabbed his helmet, and pulled it on. Instantly it came alive with all sorts of readouts, most of which blinked out as the helmet recognized the user and displayed only what he needed. The suit registered the weapon in his hand and a targeting display came online, showing the state of the weapon and how many rounds were left in the magazine. When he racked the first bullet into the chamber, the counter went down by one. Grinning fiercely behind the mirrored visor, he thundered down the hall to the waiting Drop Pod.

All Colonial Marines had made several drops before, so the fierce acceleration of the Drop Pod didn’t startle him. He was however surprised by what he saw in his HUD. He was tied into a live video feed of events on the beach, courtesy of one of the observation satellites the US had orbiting the planet. From it he had a birds-eye view of the fighting on the beach. The EU Teuful Panzers were swarming across the plains above the beach, and a couple had moved down to the sand. Here and there explosions blossomed as the infantrymen knocked them out, but the multitudes of armor seemed to be endless.

Almost immediately after his mind registered that they were taking anti-air fire he felt the dropship list hard to the left and go into a spin. It was spinning fast enough to cause the Marines to black out, and most did. The braking thrusters did nothing to stop the spin, but did cushion the impact so that not all the Marines were killed.

Bryant came to almost immediately after the crash, and thanked God he hadn’t thrown up before he passed out. He didn’t doubt that someone in the dropship had died that way, probably more than one. Suffocating on your own puke…he shuddered at the thought. Not a way he wanted to go. His head was throbbing though, and a gash along his jawline wept blood. He felt his own stomach start to do an imitation of the dropship, and set a record for popping all the seals on his helmet and pulled it off. Letting loose a veritable torrent of vomit, he doubled over and fell to his knees. Blood ran down to drop off his chin and join the steadily growing puddle on the floor of the transport.

Recovering enough to look around, he finally realized why he was able to move. Something must have gone screwy in the cockpit, releasing all the jump harnesses. As a result, corpses of the Marines were flung across the interior. A few others managed to struggle to their feet, and some called out weakly. Even though they had been set free, the external door hadn’t opened, and the lever for the manual release had been snapped off at the bottom. Leaving wasn’t going to be a problem he realized, as his eyes fixed on a large rent in the side, more than wide enough for a man in power armor to walk through.

He stood up and wiped his mouth with his armored gauntlet, recoiling at the pain it caused when it rubbed against his wound. Resealing his helmet he knew the automatic medical systems in the armor should have kicked on, but aside from the normal displays nothing came up. Damn useless pile of junk he thought, knowing full well it was his armor that had just saved him in the impact.

One of the PA clad Marines struggled over to the tear in the starboard wall, just as a trio of EU soldiers walked in. The first one lowered his weapon to his hip, eye level to the crawling Marine, and fired. A disgusting plume of pulverized blood and brain erupted from the man’s helmet as Bryant and the Marines who were able to grabbed their weapons and returned fire.


(Sorry this was so short, but I was pressed for time tonight and all last week, but I'll have another addition sometime soon, probably tomorrow. Hey, something's gotta keep me occupied in German!)

“First squad, on me!” Baker called to his men. The Marine dropship that got knocked out of the sky had landed not far from them, and the Euros were taking a keen interest. He couldn’t tell for sure, but there seemed to be fighting inside the craft. When first squad had assembled they began a dash to the battered hulk.

Twice they had to stop and fight an EU group, luckily none were larger than his squad. When they finally arrived at the dropship five Marines were exiting through a large hole in the side. A quick glance inside confirmed that the rest of the Marines were dead, as were several EU soldiers. The stripes on their Power Armor showed three PFCs and a lance corporal, as well as a full corporal. Each one of them carried a standard-issue Gauss Rifle, and had an Anti-Tank Launcher with two extra shells slung across their backs. “Where do you need us el-tee?”

When they had linked back up with the rest of the platoon, the appearance of the Marines buoyed the men’s morale, especially with their recent actions in Iceland. The stories about Marine exploits in that campaign are remarkable, and, perhaps even more amazing, the truth. Not propaganda for morale, or exaggerated stories told by infantrymen over a few beers. A company of Colonial Marines had been able to rout an enemy offensive and had taken the capital of Reykjavík in less than forty-eight hours.

Though Bryant’s company was in that campaign, a grievous injury that he suffered on his last deployment kept him out of that fight. Now, mere weeks later, he was taking part in something far more important.

Bringing up his ATL, he targeted a Panzer about three hundred meters away. When the target locked, he let it fly, and exulted in the brilliant flash that enveloped the vehicle. Reloading he continued the process, as thousands of soldiers and Marines up and down the lines did the exact same thing.

“Particle Cannon strikes inbound—ground forces, fall back to a safe distance. Cannons are two minutes out” A countdown timer appeared on everyone’s HUD for the second time that night, as the infantry pulled back as fast as possible. Seeing this as a retreat, the EU forces charged quickly ahead, failing to maintain good formation.

Baker watched his countdown timer tick down as he kneeled, turning to cover the next group falling back.

00:26 They passed him and took their positions.

00:19 The Demons withdrew and began orbiting the beach.

00:08 Minimal safe distance achieved by 95% of the American forces.

00:00 The sky lit up.

Particle Cannons raked in front of the EU lines, burning men and tanks instantly. The blinding beams of light continued their parade up through the EU formation, and didn’t stop until they had reduced the entire city of Grandola to an enormous crater with a miniature lake of molten rock pooling on the bottom. The Naval guns, silent since the destruction of the beach bunkers, opened up again, raining fire on the retreating EU forces. The Demons that had gone into orbit just beyond the waterline screamed back over the sand to chase down the enemy. As scores of aircraft flew overhead and the naval cannons roared, the American infantry poured across the scarred lands and mopped up whatever was left of the Euro presence in the foothold they had established.

Both sides had been fighting a total war, and now, after the destruction that wracked Hawaii, the Americans were able to extract a similar toll on the European countries. Particle Cannons and Heavy Orbital Rail Guns let loose against the European cities as American bombers swept through, obliterating everything in their path. The destruction that was to be visited upon the European continent was something that was at least as bad as what the Axis had faced in WWII.

The sun rose to the east, highlighting the smoky ruins of Grandola, sending a clear message to both sides, that this had become an all-or-nothing struggle.

The Third Great War didn’t have any single cause. The fuse had been burning slowly for most of the twenty-first century. In one of the closest presidential elections in the history of the US, Al Gore takes the presidency, continuing the Democratic control of the White House. The first year and a half of his term is uneventful, but that all changes on September 11th, 2001. Terrorist attacks in the US destroy the World Trade Center and damage the Pentagon. The human toll is unprecedented, but Europe fares far worse than the Americans.

That same day, terrorist attacks ripped across Europe. In London, suicide bombers targeted the Underground even as a fully loaded British Airways Boeing 747 augured into the houses of Parliament. The resulting explosion toppled Big Ben, the British landmark lurched forward, and, with a sickening groan, tumbled into the Thames.

Even as Parliament buildings fell, bombs went off in the Louvre and St. Basil’s Cathedral, destroying them entirely. A hijacked passenger plane was shot down by the Russian Air Force before it could destroy the Kremlin. Suicide bombers ripped through the Bundestag as well, crippling the German government.

By far the most shocking attack though, occurred in France. A group of radical Muslims detonated a low-yield nuclear device in Lyon, obliterating much of the city and killing more than two hundred thousand civilians.

What differed, however, was the response. In the US, President Gore viewed the terrorist attacks as a criminal act, as Clinton had after the first World Trade Center bombing, the attacks on American embassies and on the USS Cole. Because it was not viewed as a military act, the American army was not mustered, and there was no military response. During the next months, US bases and embassies suffered a rash of attacks, prompting the president to recall all American forces from overseas.

With the US’s power reaching no further than its own borders, Europe was forced to fend for itself for the first time since World War Two. Without the US protecting it, it became necessary for the member nations of the EU to significantly increase their military. To limit the bureaucracy and increase efficiency, the armed forces of all member nations were combined, pooling their strategic assets. After France descended into chaos following the nuking of Lyon, large portions of the German army were sent in as “peacekeepers” to ostensibly restore order to the region. This was the first and most important step in the EU members forming into a single nation-state.

With their newfound military prowess, the EU lashed out at the terrorists who had struck them. By 2015 the European Union had installed “democratic” governments in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria. Any insurrection was dealt with forcefully, with rebellion crushed out of the populace by sheer brute force. Whenever anyone spoke about the “peacekeeping” in the Middle East, words like “genocide” “massacre” and “slaughter” came up more often than not. The EU denied all accusations of human rights violations, and the UN backed them up.

During the aggressive expansion of the European Union, Russia watched its economy and military crumble. Conflicts with Chechen separatists further weakened the Russian people’s faith in their government. Faced with an unruly populace, a devastated economy, and a massively reduced military, the Russians joined the European Union in 2013, contributing their massive nuclear stockpiles and rebuilding their army.

Meanwhile, in America, the lack of any major terrorist attacks on US soil was perceived as a great victory for the administration. Failing to realize that the only reason the attacks had mostly stopped was because the terrorists had won, a joyful public faithfully continued a Democratic dynasty in the White House and Congress.

Not since the Civil War had Americans been this divided, as a sizeable minority grew louder and louder about the incredible risk the United States was taking in stripping itself of its superpower status. Riots and demonstrations were more frequent, with the National Guard having to be called out on frequent occasions to put down insurrections.

While the US fell apart, the European Union was consolidating its power. They built, they waited, they planned. With sizeable holdings on every continent, the EU patiently waited for their rival to burn itself out.

In 2032, the Second American Civil War began. There were no clearly defined fronts, but eventually the Resistance coalesced into the states of the Rocky Mountains, Great Plains, Pacific Northwest, and some Southwestern states, while everything East of the Mississippi remained firmly in Government hands. Seeing their opportunity, the EU began mobilizing to attack.

Unfortunately, they had misjudged the Americans. They believed the Yanks would continue to fight amongst themselves while they seized control of the country. Before their fleets could land though, the US caught wind of their plan. The Second Civil War ended abruptly as Resistance and Government became American once more, united against a common foe.

The US Navy, though greatly atrophied, was enough to prevent the EU from landing anywhere but Alaska and Hawaii, as the Euros had expected an unopposed landing.

At the onset of hostilities, Asian and African countries not controlled by the EU announced their neutrality. China bided its time, waiting and watching. Mexico and Central America sided with the US, with South America split almost evenly. Australia declared their neutrality and began receiving EU soldiers and equipment, waiting for their time to fly their real colors.

World War Three had begun.

Great stuff dude.

I especially love this part:

BOS 13 wrote:

Of course you like it, you were the one who suggested I put it in there

Lol, yeah I had the idea, but you did the writin' part.

Here is a question for you though, how did Europe and the US become such rivals that the Euros felt they needed to take out the US? Remember the PRC is still out there, and I am sure they did NOT forget the colonial era when Europe also was a power.

In truth, I think the PRC, in this situation, would ally itself with the US. But I look forward to your spin on it.

I'm working on the PRC angle right now, actually. China's not going to back a horse when it's close, I don't think. They don't wanna risk Russian invasion or American nukes. They'll sit back and check it out, wait to declare themselves.

Thats the whole point bud, Russia is part of the EU. So, if anything, it would push them into the US camp. Don't forget that at one time Manchuria was Russian occupied. They may not declare right away, but to actually side with their long-time rivals in the form of the EU, allying with them is all but impossible. With the scenario you have set up right now.

What of Japan? They reactivate their former alliance with the UK? I see Japan going one of two ways, either gunshy, remembering their past asskickin' at the hands of the US, or Kamikaze to get revenge for said asskickin'.

But if I am steppin on yer toes just tell me to back off and the suggestions will halt.



Cheers, Þórgrímr

By all means, keep 'em coming. A lot of times you get me thinking about stuff I otherwise would have neglected. As far as Japan, I think you're right about them being gunshy. The asskicking they took in WWII is nothing compared to what's going to befall the enemies of the US in WWIII.