The War in Sorsk



  • President Sergey Olegovich Ivanovic downed the last of his vodka quickly. He was looking at reports from the towns of Dusinky and Korsiky, small mining towns in Dzerisk. The former was now in National Socialist Liberation Army control, the later in control of the Sorskian People's Democractic Front, both depiscable thorns in Ivanovic's side. Sorsk was small, and her economy was struggling, and rebels was the last thing Ivanovic needed. He had led the nation's military from a small band of militants into a small but well trained force, armed with equipment manufactured in Sorsk itself, though not originally Sorskian itself. It had taken long to seize control of the nation, snuggling up close to a dying Yuriy Vladimirovich Lussdren, encouraging him to nearly pour the entire national budget into law and order and defence, only a small bit going to anything else. Sorsk needed a military, not that Lussdren could see it in his healthier days. As big a military it could get, as well trained and as well armed as possible.

    Ivanovic was in his office now. The white walls of the office were adourned with art, ranging from a large potrait of Lussdren to a painting of a military parade in 2005. The desk was made out of a brown oak, several documents sitting on and a nameplate - entitled 'President Sergey Ivanovic' - on it, along with a small lamp. It was an hour or so past midnight now, and Ivanovic had been awakened from a deep sleep in his family home to come to the office for an emergency meeting of the Cabinet, but he had arrived early, and was reading over the reports, alone. He had his lamp on and his reading glasses, his greying hair forming a fringe over his forehead. His beard was black, with a few white hairs growing inside it, marking his ageing self. He was fifty now, and he wouldn't hide his grey hair like his wife did with dye and that.

    Ivanovic nearly jumped whenever somebody knocked his office's door twice. "Come in."

    In came Premier Mikhail Borissovich Telavov, a man of the same age of Ivanovic but shorter in stacture and not as big, in terms of weight. His hair was cleanly cut, a black colour with greys showing up in it. He was wearing a suit with a black tie, while Ivanovic was wearing a modern Chinese tunic suit, or, as it was know elsewhere, a 'Mao suit'.

    "Ah, Mikhail, hello," smiled Ivanovic, shaking his hand. "Forgive me for asking, but when does the meeting begin?"

    "Twenty-five minutes, sir," replied Telavov. "I feel I must inform you about the economic situation, sir."

    "What about it, hmm?" pondered Ivanovic.

    "The economy is on its way to a complete collapse," started Telavov bravely. "The lack of attention to other governmental departments except Defence and Law and Order have created conditions of poverty across the country. Children are dying in the street in many towns, diseases like cholera spreading fast across the Socialist Republic. Infrastructure is collapsing, and the Sorskian Ruble has dropped...singficantly."

    "I see," nodded Ivanovic, calmed by the vodka. "Allow a small flow of rubles into other areas of spending in the July budget, but for now, we will continue as normal."

    "But sir, by July, disease and homelessness could-" pleaded Telavov.

    "Enough," stated Ivanovic calmly but sincerely. "We continue as normal."

    * * *

    The snow was falling in Dusinky. It covered the entire town in minutes, thick snow everywhere. The town was in ruins, the National Socialist Liberation Army having just one thousand militant soldiers now, while the military consisted of over twenty thousand soldiers, a hefty amount for a nation of seven million which was beginning to go on another recruitment drive, really just enforcing conscription. The country focused completely on the military, which was why the country could afford equipment, at the expense of everything else. The Nazi Lib Army was too small to establish national socialism in the country, especially whenever the communists started attacking.

    Olega Denelov was flying a Sukhoi Su-25 over Dusinky, with her squadron, Delta Two One. The orders for an attack on the NSLA headquarters, Dusinky, well into the north of the country, had been swift, ordered directly by President Ivanovic. The fascists had taken control of the village thanks to a suprise attack on the poorly defended town, connected with Korsiky, controlled by the Sorskian People's Democratic Front via a bridge. Strategic bombers would destroy that quickly. But for now, Olega was to drop bombs on troop concencrations and just about as many buildings as she possibly could to elimnate as much fascist forces as possible.

    In a few minutes, they were flying over the town. It was already in ruins, pieces of infrastructure scattered across the road, the reason why tanks weren't involved in the attack. They would just be blocked by the rubble and blown up by the fascisti with rocket propelled grenades. There were a few troops across the streets, several large buildings which had been marked as troop bases.

    "Weapons free."

    Olega dropped two bombs onto a troop encampment. Many more would follow. That begin the War in Sorsk.

    * * *

    Roman Yuriyovich Alessandro held the AK-47 firmly in his two, strong hands. His blond hair was swaying in the wind, snow getting caught in it. He forced himself through the snow towards the bridge, his alert blue eyes making out large clouds of smoke rising from Dusinky, and massive fires. That was when he realised what was happening.

    "The communists are attacking!" he screamed at the top of his voice.

    There were only two thousand troops in the Front, about double the amount in the Nazis. They were armed with AK-47s and the like, both factions supplies running very low. Still, democracy would have to be created in the country. Though at the current standings, the communists were on their way to a slick, clean victory.

    In a blink of an eye, a bomb hit the bridge. It exploded on it, knocking rubble everywhere and splitting it in two parts. Alessandro was forced onto the ground by the magnitude of the blast. He was the only man on Earth to witness the destruction of a medieval bridge which connected two towns in Sorsk.

    He couldn't get up. That was when he noticed his left leg was gone.


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    Reading intelligence reports at his desk in the Kremlin, Lt. General Georgi Pukhov, Minister of Defence of the USSR appeared calm and serene just as usual. A half-empty glass of vodka rested by his side, and his hands held papers with the seal of the GRU on them.

    The KGB too, but he was too proud to check these first. No, these KGB bastards had to be proven foolish and wrong. The GRU had to prevail.

    Today's reports were about the ongoing civil war in Sorks, a small nation sharing borders with the USSR. The war had been raging for a while and he had been unable to show the local Communists open support, much unlike what he was intending to do for several years now, much unlike what the Blood Pact was about.

    The communists seemed to be winning, however, which was most fortunate, but intelligence reports showed a lack of committed supplies and vast domestic trouble in the neighbouring nature. Disease, destroyed infrastructure, lack of weapons and ammo; stuff like these could obstruct war effort and damage the would-be Communist prevalence over the country.

    Pukhov knew he had to act, and quick. He picked up his telephone and called the person everyone knew simply as "the Man", the person who was nobody other than General Secretary Zyuganov. A private meeting was scheduled, and quick as well. If Pukhov was lucky, everything would progress according to his plan.

    And his plan was the same as usual: make a use of that damned $11 trillion defence budget.


  • administrators

    ..:: IC Secret ::..

    The White House
    Bastia, Belarum

    President Burke thumbed through intelligence reports as his National Security Advisers and Chief Foreign Policy Advisers, Dean Corbin and Scott Fallows, respectively, briefed him on the situation in Sorsk.

    "It's a basket case, Mr. President", said Fallows, "they can barely fend off the Boy Scouts militarily, and that's practically their entire state expidenture. The question isn't whether they're going to topple the current government, it's a matter of when or who. The fascists or the democrats."

    "That's not all, sir", said Corbin, "we have reason to believe that the Soviets will be giving them everything they need to prop up the communists. Tanks, troops, guns, or anything else they need. And believe me, they need it."

    "It sounds like we're trending towards a covert operation here", said the President, continuing to thumb through the reports just handed to him, "we've got the definite possibility of a revolution, but the fascists have the potential to be even worse than the regime we've got. And all the while, if the Soviets find out, we've got a Cold War that could boil over."

    "That's right, sir. The fascists, if they gain power, could cause the Soviets to go ape. It could become their new Chechnya" said Corbin.

    "I don't think anyone wants that. From what I'm reading here the People's Democratic Front would be a hell of a lot more conducive to what's best for the European Union. We need democracy now more than ever" added the President.

    "Rest assured if the democrats win a power struggle and get an elected government into power" said Fallows, "the Soviets can not topple them, for obvious reasons."

    "Get the BIO Director on the phone" said the President, "and tell him I want to get in touch with the SPDF leadership. Let's get the ball rolling right away."



  • President Ivanovic downed the last of a large glass of vodka before turning to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Alejandro Yuriyovich Kalanov, turned to him with some news which could possibly seriously alter the outcome of the War.

    "Sir, it appears to me that the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics wishes to supply the Socialist Republic in our war effort," spoke Kalanov firmly, his dark brown hair well cut.

    "Accept it," commanded the President. "Get a communication out to them, request them to send in as many troops, tanks and planes as the Union can. They could crush both the factions with a fraction of their army."

    "Yes sir."

    * * *

    Vasily Daliskovic, leader of the SPDF, looked at his assistant while finishing off a bottle of the finest Sorskian vodka. He had news about Berlarum, some nation in the EU, was offering to supply the Front.

    "Well, you can hardly blame them for not sending troops in," thought Vasily aloud. "It would kick up the biggest piece of dogshit with the Soviets. Hell, they'll probably already charging in already."

    "Yes, then?"

    "Of course. I don't care how you tell me, just tell them. And don't compromise the Front and lastly, don't get yourself killed. Now go!"


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    "Comrade Minister of Defence, the report you requested" said Pukhov's aide, passing over a thick folder. The cigar-smoking Soviet general nodded and began reading it instantly.

    Pukhov's schemes were going well. Sorsk had accepted aid and even asked for direct military assistance; and, other than that, the fascist and democratic opposition in the country seemed in tatters. Of course, there was a very, very high probability the BIO would support these, just as the Soviet military and the KGB were supporting "their" faction.

    Ever since the green light had been given, the Soviet military had began crossing the border with aid convoys, delivering hundreds of T-55 tanks, BMP-1 IFV's, BTR-152 and BTR-50 APC's, and stocks of AK-47 assault rifles and RPG-7 anti-tank rockets enough to properly equip a Soviet-modelled mechanised division of at least 12.500 men, all of them free of charge. In addition, an aid package with more modern T-72 tanks, BTR-80 APC's, BMP-2 IFV's and RPG-22 anti-tank rockets was being prepared, along with a number of Su-25 and Su-39 Frogfoots.

    For Pukhov, this was a delightful opportunity to renew the 40 to 60 year old Soviet reserve stockpiles, expand the sphere of influence of USSR and Socialism, and have a fun little war as well. Of course, as an Afghanistan veteran himself, he knew the possibilities open involvement would cause, and the mistakes the Soviet High Command had made back then.

    And then there was Chechnya. It might have been a "short" war between 1994 and 1996, the one that effectively ousted Gorbachev from power in Zyuganov's favour, but it had been unusually costly for the Soviet military, if only because it was fighting USSR-trained guerillas led by USSR-trained generals with inadequate resources for political reasons.

    No. Sorsk would be different.

    Two hours later, the third strongest person in the USSR after Zyuganov and Goggol was with his Chiefs of Staff for the Ground Forces, Air Force and Air Defence. Other than military aid, the U.S.S.R. would do "covert" open involvement in this war.

    Considering the nature of Sorsk's terrain and infrastructure at the time, Pukhov called for the mobilisation of adequate air defences within the U.S.S.R. to cover as much of Sorsk as it was possible, with the Air Force beginning bombing campaigns against non-Communist targets with Su-25's bearing Sorsk communist insignia as soon as possible. At the same time, two Motor Rifle and one Air Assault division would be mobilised for future ground operations. Unmanned aerial vehicles and satellites would be gathering data on the enemy and their positions, along with GRU and KGB agents.


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