The Last War: 354.

[Bernard Woolley]

With thanks to Jotun & Matt W.

*

D+22

*

1215 hours GMT. Detroit, Michigan.
“Where’s my backup!” Sergeant Stanley Parks yelled into his radio. “We’re in danger of being overrun here!

Officer John Murphy glanced across at the Watch Commander. It was not often that he saw the sergeant look as worried as he did.

*

Murphy and Parks were officers from the Detroit Police Department’s 11th Precinct, which was in the north of the department’s jurisdiction. However, that day they and other officers had been sent on mutual aid to assist the Wayne County Sheriff Department in Highland Park. The ‘enclave city’ once had its own police, but the department had been disbanded in 2001 as part of cost cutting and policing had become the responsibility of the county sheriff. [1]

A ‘peace’ protest downtown had turned violent when far-right ‘counter-protestors’ had managed to break through the police cordon. Rioting and looting had spread outwards until it had crossed over into both Highland Park and Hamtramck. Both cities had requested assistance from the already overstretched Detroit PD, as their own law enforcement was overwhelmed.

The perennially understaffed and underfunded Detroit PD had struggled to contain the rioting, even with the assistance of the state police and other law enforcement agencies. To make matters worse, the department had already lost many personnel to mobilisation as National Guardsmen and army reservists. Ironically, very few guardsmen were available, as most were undertaking pre-deployment training.

*

“Back-up is fifteen minutes out, Sergeant Parks. Hold the line until then, over.”
“Hold the line? With a dozen cops? Who are they kidding?” Parks muttered. “Roger that Dispatch.”

Murphy turned away from listening to Park to the scene in front of the thin line of ten Detroit officers and two deputies. It was a scene from Hell – buildings and vehicles were on fire and people were running around looting and fighting each other. Occasionally groups would approach the police line to stone it and throw Molotov cocktails. Only the use of tear gas and ‘beanbag’ rounds had prevented the police from being overrun, and both were running low.

“Here they come again!” Murphy called out before checking how many ‘beanbag’ rounds he had left in his shotgun.

Three was the answer. As the mob charged the police line, he took careful aim and fired three times, taking down the same number of rioters. Again, the mob retreated after throwing missiles. Next time, stopping them was not going to be easy.

The ‘whoop-whoop’ of a siren made Murphy turn. He saw a Michigan State Police cruiser and a single Army National Guard truck approaching.

“That’s our backup?” He wondered aloud.

To his increasing dismay, as the Guardsmen disembarked from the truck, he saw that there were only nine of them. Moreover, while they had visors on their helmets, they had no other riot gear, other than bayonets on the end of their rifles. At least the two State Troopers did have riot helmets, shields and full body armour. Not that it would really matter.

“This is going to go turn to sh*t.” He said to the officer next to him.
“Murphy!” The officer said to Murphy’s puzzlement. “Murphy!”
“What?” He replied, bewildered.

*

“Murphy! Come back to me, Murphy! Alex! ROBO!”

Officer Murphy snapped awake and realised he was sitting in the passenger seat of a cruiser, not facing a riot in Highland Park. He sighed.

“Lisa, I hate it when you call me Alex, never mind Robo.” He said to his partner.
“You know you secretly love it, Murph.” Detective Lisa Madigan replied, laughing.
“Sure, I do.”

Being called Alex John Murphy had plagued Murphy since he had chosen to join the Detroit Police Department. Being called RoboCop, or Robo, had seemed funny at first. At least until the thousandth time somebody had done it. There was a reason he used his middle name now, yet it still followed him. Truth be told, he did not mind it when Madigan, who was an old friend, a detective put back in uniform, as most others had been, used it.

“Where were you, Murphy? You were talking in your sleep.”
“Highland Park.”

Madigan nodded and said no more. She had been there too and had witnessed the carnage when the National Guard had been forced to open fire.

“Beta One, this Dispatch. Respond please, over.”
“Dispatch, this is Beta One. Go ahead.” Murphy said into the radio handset.
“Warren PD have requested mutual aid to patrol the area around the tank arsenal. All of their units are currently occupied. Contact Department of Army Police at the main entrance, over.”
“Roger that, Dispatch.”
“Let’s roll.” Madigan said, before starting the cruiser.

*

The Detroit PD cruiser had attracted a few curious stares from residents of Warren as it drove to the Detroit Tank Arsenal. However, it was not uncommon for the larger department to offer mutual aid, or for pursuits to cross over into the smaller city.

Outside the main entrance to the Detroit Arsenal were a pair of Department of the Army Civilian Police Crown Victoria Police Interceptors. A short distance away were two military police Humvees, but it was the three M113A3 from Company A, 1-125th Infantry Regiment that really stood out.
Murphey recognised some of the men manning the APCs as being those who had been at Highland Park. He grimaced at the thought of the shooting, or ‘massacre’ as local media had labelled it. Despite his disquiet about the whole thing, he could not really blame the Guardsmen. They had been forced into opening fire.

“Well, Lisa, let’s see what the army cops want us to do.”

1215 hours GMT. SAS Manthatisi, the Baltic Sea.
After they had reached Emden on D+7, a veritable host of technicians had descended upon the submarine and begun to bring her to battle-worthiness as soon as humanly possible. As a result of their combined efforts and 24/7 work, the submarine had been declared as ready as she was ever going to get and been loaded with a full complement of shiny new DM2A4 Seahake heavyweight torpedoes and two quadruple launching canisters for IDAS missiles. Which gave them twelve torpedoes and eight anti-air/surface attack missiles. Seven of her tubes were loaded with torpedoes, and one with an IDAS container.

Manthatisi and the Swedish submarines available had formed a loose line across the most likely approach the Red task force would take. Manthatisi’s batteries put out just enough power to the drive shaft that she kept stationary and at listening depth. At this time of the year, sonar conditions were typical for the central Baltic, a thin layer of relatively warm water, then a thicker layer of lower temperatures and increased salinity and finally, in the deepest parts, a third layer of cold water. So, the submarines of both sides were forced to pop up uncomfortably close to the surface in order to get a picture of the tactical situation every now and then.

Mompati, sitting in his command chair in front of his master console looked at the red-hued LED watch overhead.

“Right”, Mompati said quietly “OOW, take the boat to listening depth.”

Hardly had the boat broken the upper thermocline, the sonar operators twitched with the avalanche of sounds reaching their ears.

“Sir, the battle seems to be in process. There are numerous surface contacts bearing 020 to 040, going at least 25 knots and apparently accelerating. Several bearings are changing rapidly…those in the outer rings of the formation…hold it…they are launching missiles. Looking at the rapidity and size of the course changes, I assess the Russians are defending against a humongous air attack. And…yes, there is definitely explosions. That bugger there, bearing 027, distance 21 miles just bought it. It is sinking.”

The CO had elected to listen to the sounds on his personal headset and look at the waterfall display on his command terminal. While he wasn’t as experienced as his sonarmen, he could make out the general situation.

“What do you say, gentlemen?” Was his question. “Distance of formation between twenty and twenty-four nautical miles? And where do you see Iron Feliks in this unholy mess? Near the middle of the bouquet of bearings? That humongous track there?” He highlighted the track in question, sending the mark to the sonarmen’s consoles.
“Yes, Boss.” Came the laid-back answer. “Looks good. Are we going for it?”
“Absolutely.” Mompati stated.

He triggered the MC1 and quietly spoke into it.

“This is the CO speaking. We are going to slip into the enemy formation steaming in our direction. All hands, man battle stations, rig boat for silent running. Tape and tamp everything down that ain’t essential. We have some ships to sink. Time the Warrior Queen gets a few spears in.”

He turned off MC1 and turned to the OOW.

“OOW, ChEng, bring us below the upper thermocline, five knots, fifteen degrees downward angle.”

*

“Captain, Sonar. We are beyond the outer ring of escorts. Iron Feliks and the other heavies are still steaming a south-south-westerly course, at least twenty knots. They are making an unholy racket.”
“Very well. We are almost where we are supposed to be. Weaps, I want firing solutions on Feliks – two fish, tubes one and three. That Sovremenny-sounding contact behind him. Two fish. Tubes eight and six. Attack speed at three miles distance.”

The sailor manning the torpedo guidance console began assigning targets as per his CO’s orders.

“Captain, sonar. We have a quiet and slow underwater contact, bearing 023, range ten point five, maybe three miles ahead of the formation. I can hear faint pump noises. Nuke boat. Computer says that it’s an Akula II, my ears agree. Designate contact hostile PROBSUB.” The sonar chief quietly but urgently spoke into his headset.

Mompati took a slow breath, closed his eyes for a second to integrate the latest report into his imaginary situation plot and opened them again.

“Sonar, Captain. Assign two fish to subsurface contact. Attack speed as soon as the fish has acquired. Tubes four and two.”
“Fire all six at the same time, Sir?” The First Officer of the Watch asked Mompati.
“Aye. Water ram. Open tube doors. When tubes are open, use push-out procedure.”

The torpedo tube doors opened.

Mompati involuntarily held his breath. Opening the torpedo doors, no matter how quiet the mechanisms were, always was a critical moment. But nothing happened. The Akula II held its course, depth, and speed, maybe distracted by the din the fighting on the surface made.

The six torpedoes were pushed out of the tubes by way of water ram, and the electric motors of the fish spooled up to silent speed, nearly inaudible even to first class sonar operators. After that, the three pairs went on diverging courses so as not to reveal the position of the submarine that had launched them. If all went well, the six fish would strike nearly simultaneously, from six different directions.

1220 hours GMT. Outer Helsinki Defence Line, Finland.
Soldat Marin crouched at the bottom of the slit trench as Soviet artillery pounded the decoy positions around two hundred meters away. There was no immediate danger, but there was always the possibility that the Soviet gunners might fire an ‘over’, or shell fragments could reach the trench.

“Up! Up! Up!” The Korpral ordered as the barrage lifted.

Peering through the slit between the trench and its overhead cover, Marin could see Soviet troops advancing rapidly towards them. While the terrain was not suitable for tanks, the Soviets had sent old BMP-1s to support the motor riflemen. Firing their weapons while charging forward, the Soviet motor riflemen soon discovered that the positions they were assaulting were empty, and liberally sown with mines and improvised explosive devices. From the woods came a couple of loud ‘cracks’ as a pair of anti-tank teams equipped with 95 S 58-61 recoilless rifles engaged the BMPs, knocking out two of them.

“Wouldn’t get me using a Musti.” The Korpral commented. “The Brits called their equivalent the ‘V.C Gun’, with good reason in my opinion!”
“The Musti is pretty heavy too, Korpral.” Marin replied. “I trained with one.”
“Huh.” The NCO said, acknowledging the young soldier’s comment.

Under fire from their right flank, understandably the Soviets turned towards their tormentors. That opened their left flanks to fire from the real Finnish defensive positions. The defenders also called down artillery on the now stalled Soviet troops.
As soon as the relatively short barrage lifted, Marin raised her RK 62 rifle, held it tightly against her shoulder and began to fire rapid, aimed shots. Finland’s soldiers were extra careful with their munitions, as they did not expect much in the way of resupply and wanted to make each shot count. Marin had wondered if she could shoot another human being and discovered that it was easier if one did not think of the figures falling when hit were not people. But just targets.

Marin dropped to the bottom of the slit trench to change the magazine on her rifle. Suddenly she was thrown flat and deafened. Earth rained down on her and partially buried her.

“Come on, Number 1!” She heard a muffled voice, that she recognised as the Korpral say. “We have to move!”

The NCO hauled her out from under the dirt. She caught a glimpse of Number 2. He was buried under earth and remains of the doors and corrugated iron sheets from the overhead cover. Only his abdomen and lower legs were visible. The Sotamies had been partially decapitated by a corrugated iron sheet. Marin threw up the sandwiches she had recently been eating.

“I know, it’s not pretty.” The Korpral said sympathetically. “But there’s nothing we can do for them, and we need to find ourselves a new hole before the Russians come at us again.”

The Korpral dragged the still retching Marin out of the slit trench and pulled her towards the next nearest one. A foxhole near to their trench had taken a direct hit from a 122mm round, turning it into a crater. A few meters to one side and it would have been their trench that would have been struck instead.

“Korpral! We’re pulling back east of the river! Get a move on!” Marin heard the voice of the Undersergeant who had greeted them yell.
“Got it! Come on, Number 1, you’re not dead yet!”
“My name is Marin, Soldat Sana Marin!” She shouted at him as she recovered. “If I’m going to get killed, you’re going to know my name!”
“Good for you, Soldat Sana Marin.” The Korpral replied, grinning, slapping her on the back. “Now move your ar*e before the engineers blow that bridge!”

Marin was about to reply when she heard the sound of tracked vehicles approaching. They were almost on the Finnish infantry.

“Anybody got an anti-tank missile?” Marin called out. “If I’m going to die, I want to take some of those b*stards with me!”

1225 hours. Over Central Iraq.
For the aircrews of CVW-5, it had been a busy day, and not just in terms of supporting the ground battle in Kuwait with CAS or BAI strikes. Several strategic strikes had been flown, and from what CAG had passed down that day, that wasn't likely to change-along with the PGM shortage. The latter promised to bite down the line, but there were enough LGB kits so far to enable mixed loads, and for those flying the deep-strike mission, that was becoming routine.

To the VA-115 XO and his people, that had come true on their first strike of the morning, when he had led a package to the Amarra Ammo Storage. His element had hit the bunkers with LGBs, while the Ops Officer's element had struck the revetted storage with Mark-82s. Then had come a SUCAP-an uneventful one-while Ops had gone on a CAS package, then a deep strike back to the Baghdad MEZ and the Al Qa Qaa complex. Oh, some targets in that complex had been taken out, while others hadn't. Though his time, at least, everybody had LGBs, and the targeted bunkered high explosive storage had been taken out-or up.

Now, though, it was back into Central Iraq, and a trip to the Hillah Area.

Commander Matt Wiser was taking four VA-115 A-6s, four VFA-195 Hornets, along with LT Jacqui Patterson's section from VF-154 and a VAQ-136 Prowler after the Al Hindiyah Highway Bridge and the nearby Al Kawther Thermal Power Plant. Both targets were just west of Hillah, along the Euphrates, with the Highway 84 bridge being on one of the Main Supply Routes used by truck convoys headed south.

They had launched from the carrier and while waiting their turn at the tanker track over Saudi, the crews watched as a pair each of RSAF Typhoons and F-15s tore off after a bandit, and shortly thereafter, a missile launched followed by a fireball in the air, and a plane fell to the desert floor trailing fire. That was followed by a voice shouting in Arabic-accented English, “Splash one Mirage!”

After topping off from the tankers, the package entered Iraqi Airspace, and as they headed north, the crews could see what looked like a wall of sand to the northwest, as a sandstorm was blowing into the Euphrates Valley from the desert. In 505, Guru turned to Madge Porter, his B/N, and pointed at the sandstorm that seemed to be engulfing the Ramadi-Fallujah area, and another that looked as if it was headed for Baghdad.

“Have a look. Nobody's going to be flying into or out of that.”
“What?” Madge asked, looking up from her displays, then she saw it. “Holy shit! Never seen a sandstorm before.” She checked the nav waypoints and added. “Three minutes to target.”
“Copy.” Guru replied.

Then the Prowler came up.

“Outlaws, Gauntlet 623. Got a -2 and a -3 up, with at least two Firecans.”

Firecan meant radar-guided AAA.

“Another -2 to the north.”

At least two SA-2 and one SA-3 sites were now up and active.

“Dambusters, go get 'em,” Guru called.
“Roger that!” Lieutenant Commander Kathy Evision in Dragon 403 called. “MAGNUM!” A HARM missile was in the air.

As the F/A-18s rolled in on the SAM and AAA sites, something they hadn't heard since before BAGHDAD THUNDER came over the radio from the Prowler.

“Gauntlet 623. SA-10 up!”
“Where'd he come from?” Madge asked. “One minute to target. Stepping into attack.”
“Must've put him back together after THUNDER.” Guru said as more “MAGNUM!” calls came over the radio. “Set 'em up.”
“Your pickle's hot.” She replied.
“Copy that. Intruders in hot!” Guru called as he rolled in on his bomb run. “Take the East span,” he added over the IC for Madge.

Madge didn't reply but centred her laser designator onto the East span of the Highway 84 Bridge.

“Steady. Steady... Hack on my call. And… And…HACK!”

Guru hit his pickle button.

“They're off.” He said as two GBU-10E laser-guided bombs came off the outer wing pylons. Then he banked to the right, making sure that the turn wasn't too tight or violent, otherwise the laser would be blocked by the aircraft. Not this time, for both GBU-10s slammed into the East Span of the bridge, dropping it into the Euphrates.

“Lead's off.” He said as 57-mm fire exploded close, but not too close, to the A-6.

The XO's wingmates, LT Bryan Rivers and LT Sarah “Indy” Fisher made their run, releasing their bombs, but to their horror, one of the two LGBs “went dumb”, landing a hundred yards from the city's main hospital, and not only blasted a crater in the riverbank, but also blew out numerous windows in the area, causing a number of casualties. Their second bomb hit the bridge, damaging the West Span, but not dropping it. They, too, had 57-mm fire explode close to their A-6, 509, but Rivers was able to clear the area and join up with the XO.

To the east, Lieutenant Commander Tony Carpenter's two A-6s rolled in onto the power plant, which was close to another plant that powered the nearby city of Hillah. Just as he was rolling in, the SA-10 came up again, and two HARMs-one from the Prowler and another from a Hornet, went after the SA-10, and that signal soon went off the air. For good, everyone hoped.

The two A-6s each planted ten Mark-83s on the Thermal Power Plant, hitting both the generator hall and the transformer yard. Unlike the XO's element, both A-6s had to get down low to deliver their bombs, but both A-6s walked their Mark-83s across the plant, wrecking both areas of the target. Both Intruders pulled up and away, with the Ops Officer drawing some 37-mm flak, but the second A-6 had a free ride, for a Hornet made a CBU run in between the A-6 passes, knocking out the battery with Rockeye CBUs.

As the Intruders and Hornets reformed, the Tomcat pair, led by the redoubtable team of LT Jacqui Patterson and Debbie Bradley, wasn't challenged by MiGs, though seeing the sandstorms in the distance, they understood if the Iraqis didn't want to play this time. The Tomcats joined up on the Prowler and the strike birds and headed south.

In 505's right seat, Madge looked back at the sandstorms and shook her head.

“Want to bet our friends on Nimitz get a night off?” CVW-9 on Nimitz handled most of CENTAF's night schedule in the ATO.
“That's a given.” Guru replied as he got on course back to the tankers. “I wouldn't want to fly anywhere near that.”

Though he wondered how the POWs in Baghdad would handle it. Sand-flavoured soup and rice was something he was glad he wouldn't have to sample.

“How far to the tanker track?”
“Thirty minutes. And when we get back to the boat?”

Guru smiled beneath his oxygen mask.

“Another night trap.”

1230 hours GMT. Outer Helsinki Defence Line, Finland.
Soldat Marin raised the 66 KES 88 (M72A5) to her shoulder and took aim at the BMP-1 that was bearing down on her. She was just about to squeeze the trigger when the Soviet vehicle exploded.

“What the fu…” She began to exclaim when another exploding BMP drowned her out.

She looked around for the source of what was engaging the enemy armour and spotted a pair of what she recognised as Swedish Army Ikv 91. No, she corrected herself, since the Swedes had upgraded them with a 105mm cannon, they were now designated the Ikv 105. [2]
The whipcrack of bullets reminded Marin that there were other BMPs in front of her. She turned back, took aim at one that was firing its machine-gun in her general direction and fired.

‘BOOM!’

“Got you, you bast…wha-ha!” She began to yell as she saw the BMP-1 brew up, but was cut off as someone yanked her to the ground.
“You looking to get a Mannerheim Cross, Marin?” The Korpral asked. “You need to be alive to collect a medal! Don’t do anything like that again!”

*

Four Ikv 105s leading a company of Swedish infantry from Infantry Brigade 11, mounted in Bv.206s, had forded the river to the south of the Finnish positions and had launched a counterattack once the Soviets were full engaged.
The Swedish force was relatively small, but its attack was out of proportion to its size. For example, between the Ikv 105s and ATGW, the Swedes rapidly knocked out the remaining BMP-1s. Now under fire from two directions and with mortar fire falling on them, the Soviet motor riflemen began to drift back, before breaking completely and fleeing east.

Thankfully, the Finnish infantry halted their withdrawal and the engineers were stopped before they blew the bridge. Instead, the Finns re-occupied their defensive positions. Although, many of them would need to be rebuilt and the gruesome task of recovering bodies carried out.

1231 hours GMT. Dzerzhinsky, northern Baltic Sea.
The battlecruiser’s smoke-stained Executive Officer struggled into the Operations Room and stood panting, out of breath.

“Sit down, Comrade.” Captain Sidorov told him gently. “Get some water for the Comrade Executive Officer!” He called out, before turning back to the X.O. “What’s the damage?”
“Bad, but not fatal, Comrade Captain.” Captain 2nd Rank Molotov replied. “We got through to the bridge and Flag Plot; most of them, including the Admiral are dead. You’re in charge of the group, Comrade.” Molotov said, before listing the other damage to the ship.

A crewman handed Molotov a bottle of water. The Executive Officer drained it almost in a one before handing the empty bottle back. He went to rise, but Sidorov put his hand on Molotov’s shoulder.

“Take five minutes rest before you head back, Yuri. You need it.”

Molotov nodded and went to reply but was interrupted by an urgent shout.

“Subsurface explosion!” One of the Michman manning the sonar console called out, giving the distance and bearing. “It came from the location of the Vepr!”

The Akula II class submarine Vepr (K-157) had been attached to the group to provide additional ASW cover, as well as to hunt enemy surface vessels. Sidorov had privately questioned attaching an SSN to the group, rather than a Kilo. Thinking it was akin to putting a shark in a swimming pool. However, Vepr had been under refit in Leningrad at the start of the war, and this deployment was effectively his shake-down cruise. It sounded like it was also his last.

“Torpedoes in the water! Torpedoes in the water!” The same Michman yelled urgently, again before giving distance and bearing.
“Hard to port, full ahead and stream decoys!” Sidrov ordered.

The Captain studied the sonar repeater display in front of him. Two different tracks of torpedoes were closing in on his ship. He thought he could perhaps avoid one group, but both? Sidrov was doubtful.

“Okrylyonny has been hit! She’s blown up!”

The Sovremenny class destroyer had been hit by a pair of DM2A4 torpedoes. His back had been broken and the ship was already sinking when his main magazine had exploded.

*

Captain Second Rank Igor Dygalo, commander of the frigate Neustrashimy, the Iron Felix’s closest escort had a quick decision to make.

“Engage first group of torpedoes with Smerch-2!” He snapped.

The frigate’s RBU-6000 Smerch-2 ASW rocket launcher trained rapidly before firing all twelve of its rockets. By luck, the exploding depth charges caught both of the torpedoes, destroying them.

“Well done, Comrades.” Dygalo said. “Bring us around to starboard and increase to full.”
“That will put us across the stern of the Dzerzhinsky, Comrade Captain.”
“I’m aware.”

There was silence in the Operations Room, as everyone turned to look at Dygalo. They knew the implications of his orders.

*

“Neustrashimy is cutting across our stern, Comrade Captain!”

Sidrov knew what his counterpart was doing.

“I wish I could thank Captain Dygalo and his crew.” He said simply. “Sound the collision alarm!”

***

[1] Highland Park PD was reformed in 2007.

[2] It is presumed that in the TLWverse that the Swedish Army upgraded its Ikv 91s with a 105mm cannon, and updated electronics.

[Bernard Woolley]

Accompanying Pictures

[Eaglenine2]

Well that sounds unpleasant.

[Jotun]

Ah…a new chalter and I was too late with my contribution.
No worries. got another idea.

Looks like the Battle of Götland is almost wrapped up and it is time to assess the outcome.

Soldat Marin certainly showed some spine and a lot of valour in her baptism of fire. Luckily, the Korpral reminded her that admiring one‘s handiwork on the battlefield is not a healthy course of action.

Not only ASW could be subsumed under "again and again and AGAIN", flying tactical bombing missions in a country as replete with bunkers and s*it as Iraq must be almost annoying routine for Latt W. and his squadron mates…

Thanks for the nee chapter. I had a blast (hurr!) reading it. And adding to it, of course.

[jemhouston]

Maybe I'm old fashion, but if you toss a Molotov cocktail at someone, you crossed the line into allowing deadly force against you. Some of the rioters were useful idiots.

Small escorts are like the US Secret Service, they will take the bullet.

[Bouncy70]

To paraphrase something I read somewhere... "escorts have a secondary function as ablative armour for the battleships"

[Matt Wiser]

Good chapter! Glad to help as always,a BZ as usual, and so to business:

Ah, time for another riot in Detroit... Last big one was in 1967.

The South Africans, when they get back to Emden, can put at least two red stars on their hull, and maybe a couple more....

Marin's getting her licks in at the Russians. Still, the Finnish Campaign's a sideshow. That doesn't take away from the fact that the soldiers on both sides fight just as hard and the losers are just as dead.

That strike is the last deep strike into Iraq for at least twelve hours if not more. CVW-9's people will appreciate having the night off for the most part. And yes, aircrew have to log a certain number of night traps, so everybody on this strike gets to take care of that little requirement...

Good work, and get with 355!

[Matt Wiser]

Ah…a new chalter and I was too late with my contribution.
No worries. got another idea.

Looks like the Battle of Götland is almost wrapped up and it is time to assess the outcome.

Soldat Marin certainly showed some spine and a lot of valour in her baptism of fire. Luckily, the Korpral reminded her that admiring one‘s handiwork on the battlefield is not a healthy course of action.

Not only ASW could be subsumed under "again and again and AGAIN", flying tactical bombing missions in a country as replete with bunkers and s*it as Iraq must be almost annoying routine for Latt W. and his squadron mates…

Thanks for the nee chapter. I had a blast (hurr!) reading it. And adding to it, of course.

Going into the MEZ is never routine. And there are targets further north that have only been hit once or twice (Tikrit area) and many haven't been hit at all (Samarra, the Bayjii Oil Refinery-Iraq's largest, let alone the Mosul-Kirkuk areas). With the PGM shortage, getting down low to put dumb bombs on target with reasonable accuracy will get strike birds down into the light and medium AAA envelope.

[Johnnie Lyle]

Maybe I'm old fashion, but if you toss a Molotov cocktail at someone, you crossed the line into allowing deadly force against you. Some of the rioters were useful idiots.

Small escorts are like the US Secret Service, they will take the bullet.

Aye, but that doesn’t make it any easier afterwards, especially for people who very much would prefer to end a situation without bloodshed. Taking a life is a big line to cross, and if your profession is saving people, taking a life hits hard, even if justified and necessary.

Perhaps even more when justified and necessary. We use black humor as a defense mechanism for a reason, and a big one is the extreme frustration and soul draining that comes with watching people piss their lives away and being unable to get through to them and make them get their shit together before they destroy themselves.

[Johnnie Lyle]

Oof, a very bloody chapter. More for the criminals in the Kremlin to answer for when they get to Hell.

The Swedes do seem to have come up with some interesting ideas, though the big gun on lightly armored chassis does seem to keep coming back into fashion.

Adrenaline and a little rage does a lot to keep you on your feet and push the fear away.

Bad days for the Detroit PD.

[Bernard Woolley]

Well that sounds unpleasant.

That's war for you!

Looks like the Battle of Götland is almost wrapped up and it is time to assess the outcome.

My emphasis added. I was thinking about what a good name for the battle would be. I think you've nailed it!

Soldat Marin certainly showed some spine and a lot of valour in her baptism of fire. <snip>

As you said, she also showed a bit of inexperience too! Lucky the Korpral pulled her into cover.

Thanks for the nee chapter. I had a blast (hurr!) reading it. And adding to it, of course.

You're very welcome and thanks for your contribution.

Maybe I'm old fashion, but if you toss a Molotov cocktail at someone, you crossed the line into allowing deadly force against you. Some of the rioters were useful idiots.

It's something that can be argued. Have seen plenty footage of petrol bombs being used during riots on the UK mainland. We've not (to date) used plastic bullets, never mind live ammunition. However, if you put armed soldiers with no proper riot gear in a situation where they face rioters, then the chances of them having to use their rifles becomes very likely.

Small escorts are like the US Secret Service, they will take the bullet.

To paraphrase something I read somewhere... "escorts have a secondary function as ablative armour for the battleships"

Doing the job they are there for. Sometimes mean they have to sacrifice themselves.

Good chapter! Glad to help as always,a BZ as usual, and so to business:

Thanks, always appreciate your help.

Ah, time for another riot in Detroit... Last big one was in 1967.

The recipie for rioting was, first remove a significant numbers of cops, then have people of significantly opposing views encounter each other. Leave to simmer for a while. Violence was then almost inevitable.

That doesn't take away from the fact that the soldiers on both sides fight just as hard and the losers are just as dead.

Sideshows never feel like a sideshow to those in them.

Good work, and get with 355!

Again, thanks and will do!

The Swedes do seem to have come up with some interesting ideas, though the big gun on lightly armored chassis does seem to keep coming back into fashion.

The Swedes needed a well armed, light platform. Lots of places in Scandinavia are not suitable for heavy tanks.

Adrenaline and a little rage does a lot to keep you on your feet and push the fear away.

Although, it can also effect your judgement. Like continuing to stand up admiring your handiwork!

Bad days for the Detroit PD.

Could be worse. The city might have contracted an evil multi-national corporation to run them.

[Jotun]

Am I missing something? Was the Highland Park shooting/massacre only alluded to in this chapter, or will I have to visit a doc to check my memory?

[Bernard Woolley]

It was a flash-back to an earlier event. Murphy was having a bad dream after he dozed off.

[Jotun]

It was a flash-back to an earlier event. Murphy was having a bad dream after he dozed off.

Ah, thanks for the clarification. I thought I‘d accidentally skipped a chapter.

[Bernard Woolley]

YAVW.

[delfin]

Very nice chapter. I hate to ruin a good story with truth, but my only nitpick is with the idiocy of the Soviets in trying to operate a nuke boat in the shallow waters of the Baltic Sea. As you can see in this map, there really isn't much room for a large submarine to manouver, let alone operate tactically. Much of the Baltic is PD only for a nuclear boat, which is why the Soviets never operated SSNs in the Red Banner Baltic Fleet.

[Bernard Woolley]

You'll note that Sidorov felt that sending out a nuke boat was a bad idea. However, as noted in the chapter, Vepr had been under refit. Once war broke out, he was trapped in the Baltic.

[Paul Nuttall]

Very nice chapter. I hate to ruin a good story with truth, but my only nitpick is with the idiocy of the Soviets in trying to operate a nuke boat in the shallow waters of the Baltic Sea. As you can see in this map, there really isn't much room for a large submarine to manouver, let alone operate tactically. Much of the Baltic is PD only for a nuclear boat, which is why the Soviets never operated SSNs in the Red Banner Baltic Fleet.

It was there when the war broke out, may as well try and use it rather than have it tied up alongside doing nothing.

[Bernard Woolley]

Exactly.

[Paul Nuttall]

How many torpedoes were launched, the text says 6 but it sounds like two groups of two torpedoes were launched at the Battlecruiser, two at the destroyer and two at the sub with the frigate's rocket launchers destroying one group.