[LOCATION REDACTED] WNK HQ, The Isles of Farrun, Faltsu.
April 22nd, 2016
5:30pm.
“We attack here.” stated a WNK militia commander while pointing at a police station on a map of a seemingly rural part of the largest of the Farrunese Isles. “Intelligence reports that this location houses crucial medical and communication supplies for the Royal Police, and the professional army. A hit on this police station will both be low risk as its only police guarding it, and if successful, it will stall their invasion of our homeland for at least two weeks, if not more.” The militia commander looked around the briefing room to supporting nods from his comrades.
“I guess it’s settled then.” He paused. “We will need 30 men and three technicals for this mission. Get them here and ready to roll in two hours sharp. Godspeed men.” The other men in the briefing room saluted him and walked out in an orderly fashion. The militia commander leaned over the map with his head hung low. “Sending this small of an attack force is a huge risk, but it’s the only choice I’ve got. We’d be spread too thinly otherwise. If this mission did not succeed, the military may overrun the Isles of Farrun before we even have a chance to organize a decent supply of manpower and equipment. And that would spell the end of the revolution right then and there.” he thought to himself. Two hours later, the requested forces of the WNK militia arrived at HQ. They were briefed on the mission at hand and set off towards the target police station.
“Dispatch to 1K-81.” *
The Police Sergeant reached for his radio on his desk. He picked it up and responded. “Go for 1K-81.”
“We have reports of a large militia force headed your way consisting of three mounted pickup trucks escorting a larger military surplus Class-B vehicle. The Class-B vehicle was observed to be holding at least 25-30 armed militiamen.”
“How far away is the nearest backup?”
“Approximately 45 minutes away.”
His heart sank as he responded. “10-4 dispatch.
Et wäert kaschten wat et wäert kaschten.” He stood up and swore under his breath as he walked out of his office and into the main upstairs room filled with about a dozen small cubicles. He looked around the room to find only six other officers stationed there. “Is this really all we’ve got? I know I’m at the tail end of a 12 hour shift but still… I don't remember this few officers clocking in.” he thought to himself.
“If I could have your attention please,” he stated loudly. “As you may have heard over the radio, there is a high chance that we will be in combat at any minute. As such, we need to make some preparations.” He paused as he looked around the room once more. His fellow officers were looking at him with attention. He studied their faces for a few seconds. Some faces were as tired as he was, others were bored with at least some energy left in them. None of them realized what was about to occur. “This location is strategically important to the Monarchy, and it must not fall. We may be outnumbered, but we have the strategic advantage in cover. We will use this to our advantage by dealing a decisive blow here and now. Using my expertise from being a retired MP sergeant, I have concluded that this is just a delay mission. It is similar to the ones that we do drills on when dealing with the local gangs. We will delay the enemy until backup arrives in approximately 45 minutes. If we give these filthy rebels a run for their money before backup arrives then that’ll just mean that we had all the fun.” He saw the other officers smile and nod at him as he continued his speech. “Now, everyone make sure that your pistols and long-guns are in working order, and that you grab as much ammo as possible. Make sure to also put on your vests and grab anything that you feel is necessary in order to fight. We will take up defensive positions along the second floor of this building and shoot out of the windows at the militia as they arrive. I will give the signal to attack. If you are injured, or otherwise unable to hold your position, safely retreat into friendly lines. Any questions?”
“No sir!” they all responded, mostly in unison.
As the minutes passed, the seven loyal defenders prepared for their last stand. They pushed over desks and made as much makeshift cover for themselves as possible. By the time they were done about 15 minutes later, it looked like a tornado went through the second floor of the building. But, it was all going accordingly as they now were prepared to defend the police station and its valuable contents. As if on cue, three mounted pickup trucks and a medium-sized Class-B cabover truck rolled up to the front entrance of the police station. The Class-B truck dismounted as around 20 armed militiamen jumped down from the rear troop-ferrying compartment of the vehicle. One of the militiamen, wearing an olive green dress uniform with a matching dress cap, picked up a megaphone and turned it on. “We are the 5th Mechanized Infantry Company of the WNK Militia, and we hereby offer you an opportunity to surrender to us. We will allow 60 seconds for you to send your most senior officer before we attack. If you do not comply, we will be forced to overrun this facility and kill anyone who tries to resist us with our superior firepower.” Seemingly confident with the speech he gave, the militiaman turned off the megaphone and set it in the bed of one of the trucks. Just then, one flashbang, followed by another, flew out of a second floor window going in opposite directions. They both landed on opposite sides of the opposing militia forces and exploded on impact, stunning most of the militiamen, who weren’t spaced out very well. Chaos erupted as bullets rained down from each of the five open windows on the second floor. About one third of the militia forces were gunned down as some blindly shot at the building, and others panicked and shot at each other for a handful of seconds. While organization broke down within the militia lines, one of the few unaffected militiamen got onto one of the mounted machine guns on the back of the pickup trucks and fired at one of the windows that the police were shooting from. They managed to kill an officer before being shot multiple times from another window and then subsequently stumbling backwards and falling from the truck. Another officer shooting from a different window was gunned down as the majority of the forces regained their senses and started to reorganize and direct their fire effectively. The militiaman that made the speech earlier shouted, “Throw tear gas! One canister for each floor. That’ll flush them out!” Two militiamen then nodded and grabbed a small wooden crate out the back of the large truck and set it on the ground in front of them. They opened it and grabbed two canisters of tear gas previously acquired from a raid on a different police station. Both canisters were primed and then tossed into both floors of the police station as they shouted,
“Fir d'Revolutioun!”
The loud, yet slightly muffled voice of the militiaman making his speech could be heard through the open windows on the second floor of the building.
“He is sure a loud one isn’t he.” the police sergeant joked as chuckles came from the other officers. After a few seconds of much needed comedic relief, he cleared his throat and stated, “Alrighty, here’s the plan. I’ll give the signal to attack by throwing a flashbang down at the irregular blobs of militia. Wait one second, then throw a second flashbang going the opposite direction. I’ll throw mine to the left, and you will throw yours to the right.” he stated as he nodded to the officer to his left. “When you hear them go off, pop up from behind cover and start firing. They will only be stunned for a handful of seconds, so make your shots count. Let’s give these rebels a lesson in proper spacing, shall we?”
A few seconds later, the megaphone fell silent as both the sergeant and the officer to his left primed their flashbangs and threw them one after another according to plan. Six officers then popped up from behind cover and started laying down fire from their rifles. The sergeant stayed behind cover ready to pull away any officers that may get wounded from the firefight. The officer shooting out of the left-most window fell lifeless as a mounted machine gun on the back of a pickup truck came to life and riddled his body with high-caliber bullets. The officer stationed in the window next to him fired at the MG gunner and proceeded to repay the favor by unloading into him. That officer then fell to the ground as the effects of the flashbangs wore off on the militia and they started to be able to see where they were shooting. The four remaining officers stopped firing and dropped back down to cover with the sergeant pulling the dead across the room where they wouldn’t be in the way. They then heard the militia commander shout something about tear gas. This made the sergeant’s heart sink as he knew the danger posed by tear gas. Although not necessarily deadly, the gas was able to cause damage to a person’s eyes, nose, skin, and lungs as the powder coats everything it touches.
“It looks like they’re about to launch tear gas in here to flush us out. We need to prepare in order to not be affected as much by the gas. Firstly,” he paused “everyone needs to wrap dry cloth three layers thick around their nose and mouth. Make sure you have enough length, so that you can pull it over your eyes.” He pointed to one of the officers and ordered, “Go grab the med box.” The officer nodded and crawled over to an adjacent room and grabbed a medium-sized plastic tote with a medic symbol painted on it. He made his way back to the rest of the group and they opened the tote. Each of them grabbed a large white cloth and folded it so that it would be three layers thick. They then tied it around their face like a bandana with enough length for them to be able to pull it over their eyes. As if on cue, the tear gas canisters flew through a window on both the second and the first floor.
“It may hurt to breathe, and you may feel like dying, but you’ll be fine as long as you keep your face covered. This will only last for a few minutes.” the sergeant stated. He was lying of course, as it would take at least ten minutes for the powder to settle and/or clear the building. He then got an idea.
“Hey,” he stated. “This building has an air purifier in the HVAC system. Go to the aircon control panel and bump the temperature down to the lowest setting. That will purify the air as the filter will catch the fine powder that makes up tear gas.” One of the officers then crawled his way over to the aircon control panel and bumped the temperature down to the lowest setting. The HVAC system whirred to life as it began to slowly filter the fine tear gas particles from the air. It wouldn’t solve the problem completely, but it would at least help clear the tear gas faster. At this point, the effects of the tear gas were starting to be felt by the five loyal defenders. Their eyes, nose, lungs, and skin all started to burn as the fine particles settled into the pores of their skin, and got in their eyes. It felt as if they were breathing fire, and they let out some quiet cries of pain in between bad coughing fits that eventually led to them coughing up blood. This all lasted for about 15 minutes until the front door on the first floor of the building was slammed open by the militia. The gas had cleared enough to where it was safe for them to enter the building. About 15 militiamen stacked up and entered the building, clearing each room as they went. Meanwhile on the second floor, the five remaining defenders crawled their way in excruciating pain to the defensive positions decided before the attack. Loud voices and steps could be heard as the 15 militiamen made their way up the stairs. As soon as over half of them made it all the way up the stairs and stepped out in the open, the five officers slowly rose to a kneel behind cover and took aim. The sergeant pulled down his protective cloth below his mouth, now partially stained red due to him coughing up blood for the past 15 minutes and yelled,
“Net ee Schrëtt zréck!” as he unloaded his pistol into the line of militiamen. Three fell as the other four officers slowly rose to their feet and staggered forward as they began to unload into the line of militiamen. The sight was terrifying to the line of young irregulars--the five remaining officers were covered in chemical burns and rashes on their exposed skin, their eyes were bloodshot, and their makeshift gas masks made of layered white cloth were partially stained blood-red. All order broke down as formations broke and the militiamen panicked at the sight of “zombies” staggering towards them. They hurried down the stairs, some tripping over the fallen corpses of their comrades on the way and being shot as they tried to retreat. A few militiamen found some courage as they turned and fired at the handful of charging men that were supposed to be incapacitated, and landed a few hits. One officer fell as he was hit multiple times in his vest and arm by panicked fire. Out of the 15 militiamen that entered, only five returned out of the building, fleeing in panic to find cover behind their vehicles. One of them shouted, “We’re fighting zombies in there man! We need to retreat!” to the commander.
“Nonsense! We still have the advantage in numbers. We will complete the mission!” the commander sternly ordered. The remaining militia forces (numbering ten in total) readied themselves behind cover.
Back inside the building, the four remaining defenders that were able to fight, took up positions back near the windows, their movements concealed by the heavy smoke caused by the kicked up tear gas particles, and the smoke from firing their guns so much. A shot rang out as the militia commander stumbled and fell over onto the ground. His lifeless corpse showed an expression of shock as the shot landed on his forehead. The remaining militiamen then gave the order to retreat as they had no more commanding officers left. The nine irregulars scrambled to their vehicles and sped off back to the WNK HQ, leaving their dead and wounded behind. The four police officers patched up the wounds of fifth and most recently injured officer. They then “entrenched” themselves in the second floor of the building and prepared for a possible counterattack. Fortunately, one never came and a backup force of over 50 Royal Police officers arrived 18 minutes later. Shocked at the state of the survivors, they rushed them to the nearest hospital, where they are currently recovering from both tear gas and GSW related injuries.
The five survivors are expected to make a full recovery, but the long-term effects from being exposed to tear gas that long are currently unknown. Each of the five surviving officers personally received a
Gréng Schëld vun Éier medal for their heroic actions during the defense of a key strategic location. The families of the officers that passed during the battle each received monetary benefits from the government.
OOC Notes:
* The “K” in this line is said as “King”, so the actual radio transmission would’ve said “1 King 81”.
Et wäert kaschten wat et wäert kaschten - It will cost what it will cost.
Fir d'Revolutioun! - For the revolution!
Net ee Schrëtt zréck! - Not one step back!
Gréng Schëld vun Éier - Green Shield of Honor. This is the first time in the History of Faltsu that such a high award (the third highest military award) was given to a non-military combatant.
Music for this post:
Attack of the Dead Men - Sabaton: https://youtu.be/-AFdwoyNT24
