Dark Earth: The Siege of Charlotteville

[simon darkshade]

Snippet:

The soldiers dove for cover as the rocket barrage impacted the buildings and ground around the eastern side of the compound, causing much sound, flame and fury but thankfully nothing utterly catastrophic. A few seconds later, the wire and sandbags of the northern trench line were struck by three small explosions.

“Those aren’t rockets - that’s bloody field artillery. Light stuff, but guns for sure.”

“What could they have?” Hughes turned to Quinlan.

“The Belgians did leave some antique French mountain guns to the ANC, by my recollection, sir.”

“Here they come again!”

The cry came up from the northern trenches as the Simba charged out across the field, hoping that their fire support had suppressed the British lines, a hope which rapidly turned out to be in vain. They came forward in the same old way and were shot down in the same old way, although the machine gun and rifle fire of the Connaughts was somewhat diminished until Captain Andersen’s flying platoon came rushing into the trench to bolster their firepower. Once again, the field was still save for the groans of the dying and the occasional crack of a rifle shot from the trees.

“Good. Sergeant-Major Prendergast, my compliments to Captain Andersen, although please tell him to take cover, else he become a headless Thompson gunner! Get me a tally of wounded and any dead and what the men’s ammo situation is looking like. We can’t open up like we’re at the firing range at the Curragh at every move, or we’re going to run short. Fire discipline.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If they’ve got field guns and some sort of Katyusha, even if they are old, then we’re in a spot of bother, aren’t we?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lieutenant Dornan, fetch me Father Crilly.”

“Sir?” The Major was not normally one to require spiritual guidance in a firefight.

“Be quick about it; there is something that he and I must do. Tell him to bring his bag. And his black cap.”

Dornan nodded quickly and scampered down the ladder.

“You’re doing it?” Quinlan looked at his commanding officer in a mixture of dread and shock.

“Yes. The grounds were there earlier, but now that they’ve demonstrated they have a few tricks of their own, we need everything we can get. Besides, we have the brigade stocks here.”

“And afterwards?”

“I’ll either be court martialed and shot or…the consequences will play out. You’re with me?”

Quinlan nodded grimly. He never thought he’d see it done and certainly not in Africa.

“Major? Is this what I think it is?” Crilly announced his presence querulously.

“It is.”

Crilly opened up his black book, handed a candle to Captain Quinlan for him to light and drew out a small silver bell. Hughes swallowed once and began the words.

“Father, I seek your leave and counsel to invoke the Ordinance of Purgatio Tenebris.”

“Major, do you do this in the knowledge that this may not be undone?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Proceed in the name of God.”

“In your view as a priest of the Church and a soldier of Christ, has the foe shown that they are the agents of darkness by their black deeds?”

“They have. Major, in your view as an Officer of Her Majesty the Queen, have they committed crimes so foul as to be against the laws of man and God?”

“They have.”

“Captain Quinlan, do you agree that this enemy has by their crimes shown themselves to be not soldiers nor savages, but agents of evil?”

“They have.”

Crilly rang the bell once, reached over to snuff out the candle, and then closed the book. “Then let no sword be sheathed until they are struck down and let them be harried by the flame everlasting. Under the power of the Ordinance of 1632, let no quarter be given. Caedite eos.”

“Thank you, Father. You may go and report it through to the magisters on the radio downstairs. I shall do so shortly.” He turned now to Dornan. “Lieutenant, as we are no longer facing men, but servants of evil, you may instruct the WOMBATs that there are no further restrictions on their ammunition. They are to shift fire to the north with their special rounds.”

[simon darkshade]

By the by, Hughes (who may be cracking a bit under pressure) does not think he is going to be court martialed for using chemical weapons, but for invoking the Ordinance of Purgatio Tenebris, which would potentially cause an international incident and constitute a war crime.

It essentially provides for absolutely no quarter, with even burial denied and the full Amalekite treatment mandated. As suggested by the date, it comes from the epoch of the harrying of the witches and has been invoked four times in over 300 years. It is a kind of nuclear option in its own fashion, mixed with a localised Crusade.

As a side note, it does draw some ‘inspiration’ from Jon Shannon/The Deacon’s wiping out of the Hellborn in David Gemmell’s ‘Bloodstone’; even if seemingly justified on one level, it evokes profound horror on another.

Why on Earth would a major have the authority to invoke it then? Tradition, the 3 man test/rule and the general notion that no one would use it unless for the purposes originally envisaged.

It is a shock that reverberates up the chain of command. As far as errors of judgment go, this is approaching Amritsar levels, if it fully plays out and if it then comes out…

[stevep]

   simon darkshade ,

   Like the reference to Waterloo.   The major may be over-reacting, although this is a markedly more religious and conservative culture than OTL.  I'm not sure what their done which probably hasn't been done too often in many parts of the world unfortunately. 

  Steve

[simon darkshade]

Steve

He is overreacting, using a residual power reserved for extremely specific circumstances in far more mundane ones. The implication of the Ordinance, also based on the Ordinance of No Quarter to the Irish, is complete annihilation of the enemy, whoever they are presumed to be, with any captured to be summarily burnt at the stake. No distinction is to be made between those in arms or merely caught up in the area of the enemy, hence the 'Caedite eos'.

The Simba atrocities are sadly based on the type of thing they did in @, but when we put that up against a superpower that already has a tendency towards overkill, there is friction. But what Hughes has initiated is not just friction, but a general direction to wipe out every Simba or suspected Simba and burn their bodies. That runs into a few issues in the modern era, to put it mildly - the public relations and foreign affairs consequences of a massacre in Africa would be quite horrific.

Use of the Ordinance of Purgatio Tenebris was briefly contemplated against the SS after the liberation of the first camps in 1944/45, but was viewed as impractical as well as capable of getting out of hand very quickly. The Red Army and Russian Orthodox Church were forced to employ some similar means during hellish fighting on the Eastern Front, but that is a different story.

I included this part because I wanted to touch upon the consequences of putting extreme powers in the hands of relative juniors in a different manner to mere firepower.

[simon darkshade]

The Siege of Charlotteville Part 5

The soldiers dove for cover as the rocket barrage impacted the buildings and ground around the eastern side of the compound, causing much sound, flame and fury but thankfully nothing utterly catastrophic. A few seconds later, the wire and sandbags of the northern trench line were struck by three small explosions.

“Those aren’t rockets - that’s bloody field artillery. Light stuff, but guns for sure.”

“What could they have?” Hughes turned to Quinlan.

“The Belgians did leave some antique French mountain guns to the ANC, by my recollection, sir.”

“Here they come again!”

The cry came up from the northern trenches as the Simba charged out across the field, hoping that their fire support had suppressed the British lines, a hope which rapidly turned out to be in vain. They came forward in the same old way and were shot down in the same old way, although the machine gun and rifle fire of the Connaughts was somewhat diminished until Captain Andersen’s flying platoon came rushing into the trench to bolster their firepower. Once again, the field was still save for the groans of the dying and the occasional crack of a rifle shot from the trees.

“Good. Sergeant-Major Prendergast, my compliments to Captain Andersen, although please tell him to take cover, else he become a headless Thompson gunner! Get me a tally of wounded and any dead and what the men’s ammo situation is looking like. We can’t open up like we’re at the firing range at the Curragh at every move, or we’re going to run short. Fire discipline.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If they’ve got field guns and some sort of Katyusha, even if they are old, then we’re in a spot of bother, aren’t we?”

“Yes, sir.”

“They’ve got us pinned down and only need one lucky shot to blow apart hundreds of civvies.” Hughes’ stared forward with a face like thunder. “Lieutenant Dornan, fetch me Father Crilly.”

“Sir?” The Major was not normally one to require spiritual guidance in a firefight.

“Be quick about it; there is something that he and I must do. Tell him to bring his bag. And his black cap.”

Dornan nodded quickly and scampered down the ladder.

“You’re doing it?” Quinlan looked at his commanding officer in a mixture of dread and shock.

“Yes. The grounds were there earlier, but now that they’ve demonstrated they have a few tricks of their own, we need everything we can get. Besides, we have the brigade gas stocks here.”

“And afterwards?”

“I’ll either be court martialed and shot or…the consequences will play out. You’re with me?”

Quinlan nodded grimly. He never thought he’d see it done and certainly not in Africa.

“Major? Is this what I think it is?” Crilly announced his presence querulously.

“It is. If it were just us, we could sit tight and take what they’ve got until relief gets here. Hell, we'd go out there and take them on in the field! They've never fought real troops. But we’ve got over 370 men, women and children crowded in here with us, under fire from savages with bally artillery that we can't see or react to. We've got to hit them with everything we can and there is only one immediate rule of engagement that will permit that."

Crilly opened up his black book, handed a candle to Captain Quinlan for him to light and drew out a small silver bell. Hughes swallowed once and began the words.

“Father, I seek your leave and counsel to invoke the Ordinance of Purgatio Tenebris.”

“Major, do you do this in the knowledge that this may not be undone?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Proceed in the name of God.”

“In your view as a priest of the Church and a soldier of Christ, has the foe shown that they are the agents of darkness by their black deeds?”

“They have. Major, in your view as an Officer of Her Majesty the Queen, have they committed crimes so foul as to be against the laws of man and God?”

“They have.”

“Captain Quinlan, do you agree that this enemy has by their crimes shown themselves to be not soldiers nor savages, but agents of evil?”

“They have.”

Crilly rang the bell once, reached over to snuff out the candle, and then closed the book. “Then let no sword be sheathed until they are struck down and let them be harried by the flame everlasting. Under the power of the Ordinance of 1632, let no quarter be given. Caedite eos.”

“Thank you, Father. You may go and report it through to the magisters on the radio downstairs. MacNeill!”

“Sir?” The radioman stuck his head up onto the roof.

“Skyfall. I say again, Skyfall."

"Yes, sir."

"That will not only summon up every available aircraft in the theatre, but indicates that we require atomic air support." He turned now to Dornan. “Lieutenant, as we are no longer facing men, you may instruct the WOMBATs that there are no further restrictions on their ammunition. Whatsoever. They are to shift fire to the north with their chemicals rounds.”

“Very good, sir. We had six rounds of Gold Cross as of this morning.”

“Only six? Tarnation.” The rest of the battalion stocks must be up on the other side of the river. Six would not be enough to do the job properly and utterly assure the destruction of the enemy.

“Sir, if I may make a small observation?” Quinlan ventured.

“Make it quick.”

“It’s is the civilians, Major. We can mask up if we gas the Simbas, but they’d cop it should the wind change again, not to mention Andersen’s gendarmes and any of the surviving villagers around the area sheltering in place.”

“You’re likely right. On the other hand, if we don’t take out that those guns and rockets, they’re looking at an even nastier fate should these damned Simbas break through. I wouldn’t even be thinking about gas if we hadn’t chewed through most of the willy-pete already. Dornan! Have them hold fire.”

“Major Hughes, sir.” Prendergast returned with his report. “No KIAs yet, but we've had twenty-six injured, five in a very bad way, and Captain Andersen’s lost another seven wounded out of the fight on top of that. Ammo stocks are fine at the moment, although the Maxim gunners are pushing down towards 50%.”

“Very well. Get the men to -“

“Sir!” Private MacNeill, the radio operator, came scrabbling up the ladder. “It’s the Ulsters, sir! The ready platoon! They’ll be here in two minutes!”

“Thank God! Get them to come down to the south, then extract the wounded; if they can see where the devils have got their guns, even better. Hold fire, hold fire. We'll shift our mortars - conventional only - to the north and west as they go to take off.”

“And sir…after Father Crilly got through to the magisters down in Rhodesia, these three messages came through, all within a minute of each other. One from Salisbury, this one from Nairobi and one from the War Office.”

“Thank you, MacNeill. Get back down and guide in those Buckinghams. Let’s see what type of hornet’s nest I’ve stirred up, Quinlan. At 1641, Salisbury said to try and hold out andthey’re scrambling their fastest movers; at 1642, Nairobi said to not do anything too hasty, that there are friends on the way who’ll be in touch directly and that they want to use the ground to the north; and also at 1642, the War Office questioned whether things were really that sticky, but that everything would be sent as necessary." He paused with a bemused grin playing around the edge of his lips. "They're holding off on the real third degree until we're no longer in battle, no doubt. Don't worry, Captain; I'll mention that you only grudgingly went along with my decision in the report."

"Sir, all of us who saw what they did out there will back you on this. I'm not holding out on account of any qualms, but on grounds of practicality."

"Alright, we'll hold tight and see if the Ulsters' helos can't pinpoint the devils. The limited amount of gas we've got probably wouldn't do the job anyway unless they're plainly out in the open."

The rhythmic thump of heavy rotors approached rapidly from the southwest, heralding the arrival of two Bristol Buckinghams. A blast of machine gun and rifle fire into the smouldering enemy positions to the south did not begat a response and the helicopters came to a steady landing just beyond the southern trench line, just barely touching the ground. Dozens of soldiers quickly scampered towards the compound and a careful array of stretcher bearers carried the worst of the wounded forward to take their place, all covered by a wary reception committee of riflemen. In less than a minute and a half, they took off again, climbing steeply towards the south.

"Major Hughes? Lieutenant McCall, C Company, 2nd Ulsters. I've got you a reinforced platoon and as much spare ammunition as was immediately on hand in Elizabethville. The others will be coming through up the road hell for leather."

"You're more than welcome, Lieutenant. What does it look like from up there?"

"Fairly confused, sir. A lot of fire and damage to the south and east, but no units out in the open. They're either hugging the trees or have some other form of camouflage."

"Very good. Captain Quinlan will see you to your positions; we'll use you to shore up the north."

Hughes stood momentarily. He now had enough men to hold out, that much was certain, but he was still tied to the civilians. The British soldiers were both their only protection and the ones putting them in mortal peril. He looked at his watch. 1708. Unless the damned guns and rockets opened up again, they just might make it.

"Sir, we've had another update from Nairobi. Bit of a garbled message. First part was straightforward - they want the open ground and air to the north clear and marked with illumination from 2120 onwards, but the second seems to be some sort of code."

"Well, don't stand on ceremony. Dornan. What did it say?"

It simply says 'The Eagles! The Eagles! The Eagles are coming!"

[lordroel]

Sept 20, 2021 15:19:25 GMT simon darkshade said:

“The Belgians did leave some antique French mountain guns to the ANC, by my recollection, sir.”

How old would those antique French mountain guns be.

[simon darkshade]

Canon de 65 M modele 1906s. Very old, but potentially fast firing.

[lordroel]

Sept 20, 2021 15:34:14 GMT simon darkshade said:

Canon de 65 M modele 1906s. Very old, but potentially fast firing.

Well if they have the rounds for it, any cannon can be deadly.

[stevep]

Sept 20, 2021 15:19:25 GMT simon darkshade said:

The Siege of Charlotteville Part 5

The soldiers dove for cover as the rocket barrage impacted the buildings and ground around the eastern side of the compound, causing much sound, flame and fury but thankfully nothing utterly catastrophic. A few seconds later, the wire and sandbags of the northern trench line were struck by three small explosions.

“Those aren’t rockets - that’s bloody field artillery. Light stuff, but guns for sure.”

“What could they have?” Hughes turned to Quinlan.

“The Belgians did leave some antique French mountain guns to the ANC, by my recollection, sir.”

“Here they come again!”

The cry came up from the northern trenches as the Simba charged out across the field, hoping that their fire support had suppressed the British lines, a hope which rapidly turned out to be in vain. They came forward in the same old way and were shot down in the same old way, although the machine gun and rifle fire of the Connaughts was somewhat diminished until Captain Andersen’s flying platoon came rushing into the trench to bolster their firepower. Once again, the field was still save for the groans of the dying and the occasional crack of a rifle shot from the trees.

“Good. Sergeant-Major Prendergast, my compliments to Captain Andersen, although please tell him to take cover, else he become a headless Thompson gunner! Get me a tally of wounded and any dead and what the men’s ammo situation is looking like. We can’t open up like we’re at the firing range at the Curragh at every move, or we’re going to run short. Fire discipline.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If they’ve got field guns and some sort of Katyusha, even if they are old, then we’re in a spot of bother, aren’t we?”

“Yes, sir.”

“They’ve got us pinned down and only need one lucky shot to blow apart hundreds of civvies.” Hughes’ stared forward with a face like thunder. “Lieutenant Dornan, fetch me Father Crilly.”

“Sir?” The Major was not normally one to require spiritual guidance in a firefight.

“Be quick about it; there is something that he and I must do. Tell him to bring his bag. And his black cap.”

Dornan nodded quickly and scampered down the ladder.

“You’re doing it?” Quinlan looked at his commanding officer in a mixture of dread and shock.

“Yes. The grounds were there earlier, but now that they’ve demonstrated they have a few tricks of their own, we need everything we can get. Besides, we have the brigade gas stocks here.”

“And afterwards?”

“I’ll either be court martialed and shot or…the consequences will play out. You’re with me?”

Quinlan nodded grimly. He never thought he’d see it done and certainly not in Africa.

“Major? Is this what I think it is?” Crilly announced his presence querulously.

“It is. If it were just us, we could sit tight and take what they’ve got until relief gets here. Hell, we'd go out there and take them on in the field! They've never fought real troops. But we’ve got over 370 men, women and children crowded in here with us, under fire from savages with bally artillery that we can't see or react to. We've got to hit them with everything we can and there is only one immediate rule of engagement that will permit that."

Crilly opened up his black book, handed a candle to Captain Quinlan for him to light and drew out a small silver bell. Hughes swallowed once and began the words.

“Father, I seek your leave and counsel to invoke the Ordinance of Purgatio Tenebris.”

“Major, do you do this in the knowledge that this may not be undone?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Proceed in the name of God.”

“In your view as a priest of the Church and a soldier of Christ, has the foe shown that they are the agents of darkness by their black deeds?”

“They have. Major, in your view as an Officer of Her Majesty the Queen, have they committed crimes so foul as to be against the laws of man and God?”

“They have.”

“Captain Quinlan, do you agree that this enemy has by their crimes shown themselves to be not soldiers nor savages, but agents of evil?”

“They have.”

Crilly rang the bell once, reached over to snuff out the candle, and then closed the book. “Then let no sword be sheathed until they are struck down and let them be harried by the flame everlasting. Under the power of the Ordinance of 1632, let no quarter be given. Caedite eos.”

“Thank you, Father. You may go and report it through to the magisters on the radio downstairs. MacNeill!”

“Sir?” The radioman stuck his head up onto the roof.

“Skyfall. I say again, Skyfall."

"Yes, sir."

"That will not only summon up every available aircraft in the theatre, but indicates that we require atomic air support." He turned now to Dornan. “Lieutenant, as we are no longer facing men, you may instruct the WOMBATs that there are no further restrictions on their ammunition. Whatsoever. They are to shift fire to the north with their chemicals rounds.”

“Very good, sir. We had six rounds of Gold Cross as of this morning.”

“Only six? Tarnation.” The rest of the battalion stocks must be up on the other side of the river. Six would not be enough to do the job properly and utterly assure the destruction of the enemy.

“Sir, if I may make a small observation?” Quinlan ventured.

“Make it quick.”

“It’s is the civilians, Major. We can mask up if we gas the Simbas, but they’d cop it should the wind change again, not to mention Andersen’s gendarmes and any of the surviving villagers around the area sheltering in place.”

“You’re likely right. On the other hand, if we don’t take out that those guns and rockets, they’re looking at an even nastier fate should these damned Simbas break through. I wouldn’t even be thinking about gas if we hadn’t chewed through most of the willy-pete already. Dornan! Have them hold fire.”

“Major Hughes, sir.” Prendergast returned with his report. “No KIAs yet, but we've had twenty-six injured, five in a very bad way, and Captain Andersen’s lost another seven wounded out of the fight on top of that. Ammo stocks are fine at the moment, although the Maxim gunners are pushing down towards 50%.”

“Very well. Get the men to -“

“Sir!” Private MacNeill, the radio operator, came scrabbling up the ladder. “It’s the Ulsters, sir! The ready platoon! They’ll be here in two minutes!”

“Thank God! Get them to come down to the south, then extract the wounded; if they can see where the devils have got their guns, even better. Hold fire, hold fire. We'll shift our mortars - conventional only - to the north and west as they go to take off.”

“And sir…after Father Crilly got through to the magisters down in Rhodesia, these three messages came through, all within a minute of each other. One from Salisbury, this one from Nairobi and one from the War Office.”

“Thank you, MacNeill. Get back down and guide in those Buckinghams. Let’s see what type of hornet’s nest I’ve stirred up, Quinlan. At 1641, Salisbury said to try and hold out andthey’re scrambling their fastest movers; at 1642, Nairobi said to not do anything too hasty, that there are friends on the way who’ll be in touch directly and that they want to use the ground to the north; and also at 1642, the War Office questioned whether things were really that sticky, but that everything would be sent as necessary." He paused with a bemused grin playing around the edge of his lips. "They're holding off on the real third degree until we're no longer in battle, no doubt. Don't worry, Captain; I'll mention that you only grudgingly went along with my decision in the report."

"Sir, all of us who saw what they did out there will back you on this. I'm not holding out on account of any qualms, but on grounds of practicality."

"Alright, we'll hold tight and see if the Ulsters' helos can't pinpoint the devils. The limited amount of gas we've got probably wouldn't do the job anyway unless they're plainly out in the open."

The rhythmic thump of heavy rotors approached rapidly from the southwest, heralding the arrival of two Bristol Buckinghams. A blast of machine gun and rifle fire into the smouldering enemy positions to the south did not begat a response and the helicopters came to a steady landing just beyond the southern trench line, just barely touching the ground. Dozens of soldiers quickly scampered towards the compound and a careful array of stretcher bearers carried the worst of the wounded forward to take their place, all covered by a wary reception committee of riflemen. In less than a minute and a half, they took off again, climbing steeply towards the south.

"Major Hughes? Lieutenant McCall, C Company, 2nd Ulsters. I've got you a reinforced platoon and as much spare ammunition as was immediately on hand in Elizabethville. The others will be coming through up the road hell for leather."

"You're more than welcome, Lieutenant. What does it look like from up there?"

"Fairly confused, sir. A lot of fire and damage to the south and east, but no units out in the open. They're either hugging the trees or have some other form of camouflage."

"Very good. Captain Quinlan will see you to your positions; we'll use you to shore up the north."

Hughes stood momentarily. He now had enough men to hold out, that much was certain, but he was still tied to the civilians. The British soldiers were both their only protection and the ones putting them in mortal peril. He looked at his watch. 1708. Unless the damned guns and rockets opened up again, they just might make it.

"Sir, we've had another update from Nairobi. Bit of a garbled message. First part was straightforward - they want the open ground and air to the north clear and marked with illumination from 2120 onwards, but the second seems to be some sort of code."

"Well, don't stand on ceremony. Dornan. What did it say?"

It simply says 'The Eagles! The Eagles! The Eagles are coming!"

  That prompted the LOL as well as the like.   - Ironically what would be very useful here would be something that would be loathed/feared by the good guys in Tolkien's universe.  Quite a large wyrm would be very handy here.

  Even that small number of reinforcements will help, especially with the ammo but the enemy artillery/rockets are a real threat, both to the defending troops and the civilians. 

  Steve

[simon darkshade]

Precisely. The British infantry company is perfectly able to cope with mortars, but up against three 65mm field guns and a BM-8-8 on a jeep, an element of the unknown enters the equation. The ordinary counter is airpower, artillery and heavier mortars. This particular scenario removed them, showing some of the issues that could arise.

However, as emphasised here, it only becomes an issue because they are forced to sit tight because they have to defend the civilians. The historical Jadotville situation isn't comparable, as the standing response to the Simbas by regular infantry is to go out and treat them even rougher than Mike Hoare's mercenaries did historically. They aren't just holding on to survive, but to protect the vulnerable civvies. It is as if the Simbas are being driven by someone with a bit more general knowledge and common sense rather than the mad amateurs of @.

This came about for simple storytelling purposes - increasing the level of threat to match the increased capacity of the British troops and the level of response that lies behind them - but is building into something a bit beyond that.

[simon darkshade]

Steve,

I couldn't resist it.

A dragon would solve the issue absolutely perfectly, but they can't be everywhere.

The general situation is different to Jadotville. They have bombers coming in from Aden and jet fighters coming in from Rhodesia, albeit only for a few gun runs in the latter case. This will be followed by a parachute battalion in a few hours, a fully reinforced battalion with tanks attacking up the road from the border and some special aircraft coming up from secret testing in Botswana (spoiler: One is a very heavily armed gunship and the other is a HS.681 VSTOL carrying heavy infantry).

This is the engagement that drives the necessity to increase artillery range spoken about in General Discussion, as well as distributing guns down to lower level units. Field artillery isn't really needed in this circumstance, but it is the big game changer when facing heavy numbers on the ground. One lesson is that airpower, that great crutch of Western forces in @, can't necessarily get everywhere as fast as necessary.

Simon

[simon darkshade]

Whilst I’ll put together some fulsome notes soon, a bit of a starter on general British chemical warfare agents:

Gold Cross: A combined vesicant and urticant developed from sulfur mustard, certain nettle agents and other substances. Much quicker acting, causing blisters, blindness and incapacitating pain, with death following without protection. Particularly used as an area denial weapon. Strong smell of garlic/mustard/horseradish and yellow-brown in colour.

White Cross: A combined lachrymatory and vomiting agent, based on CR, adamsite and other noxious substances. It has a devastating yet not necessarily fatal effect on unprotected targets, causing blindness, intense nausea and vomiting, incapacitation and uncontrollable sneezing. It appears as a silvery white cloud with a horrific acetone smell.

Green Cross: An extremely noxious pulmonary agent derived from phosgene, chlorine and other related chemicals. It has a swift onset and attacks the lungs, throat and eyes, causing incapacitation and death without protection. Dissipates more easily. Coloured green and an extremely strong malodorous smell of chlorine.

Blue Cross: A powerful blood agent based on arsine, cyanide and other substances. Rapid onset and death of unprotected targets through cardiac arrest. Not as effective until incorporation of features from Operation Sanitation

Nerve agents and the new Rainbow agents are not broadly deployed in tactical weapons, but kept for strategic employment.

[simon darkshade]

Notes

- The Simba artillery consists of three Canon de 65 M modele 1906s and one BM-8-8 Katyusha mounted on a GAZ-97 jeep. Enough to provide harassing fire and also to cause overreaction.
- Roland becoming a headless Thompson gunner would be a tragic fate for Norway’s favourite son that not even lawyers, guns nor money could fix!
- The presence of 374 civilians in a small compound alongside considerable ammunition is a recipe for trouble.
- This influences Hughes to take his decision to invoke the Ordinance of Purgatio Tenebris and issue the code word Skyfall.
- Chemical rounds for recoilless rifles never happened in @, but there were bazooka rounds and of course mortar bombs. However, I’ve decided there wouldn’t be a basis for chemical 2.5” mortars, but the larger medium and heavy units; range would be an issue.
- The quick reaction platoon can offer quick reinforcements, but not shift the battle.
- The Magisters referred to obliquely are a peculiar institution that are akin to a mixture of anti-communist commissars and witch hunters/inquisitors, conducted under the aegis of the Church. Their presence is a slight indication of differences in the military. In practice, chaplains are not non-combatants and are issued with maces or warhammers and blessed shotguns.
- From Rhodesia, the fast movers are fighter jets doing a quick strafing pass en route to Kamina, with Canberras and a Valiant following in due course and proper aerial relief by Rotodynes moving within staging distance.
- The Nairobi reinforcements are as outlined and will be the first element to arrive.
- The War Office are holding off, as Hughes deduces.
- The TSR-2s are being directed to hit the north with incendiaries so it can be used as an improvised landing ground for Rotodynes and the HS.681 coming up from South Africa…

[simon darkshade]

Half of the final chapter:

Unless they are referring to a children’s book, I think that means that we’re about to get some aerial visitors. Lieutenant Dornan, have the mortars concentrate fire on the north. Purple smoke, if you please.”

“Yes, sir!”

The mortars thunked away and beyond the open killing ground to the north, purple smoke began rising from the treeline, providing a clear target indication for whatever friendly air support was inbound.

It began with a distant low pitched howl that grew ever greater as four tiny objects came hurtling through the sky from the northeast. At first they looked like black specks, but as Hughes trained his powerful ex-Gestapo binoculars upon them, he could see that they were white as the driven snow.

“Thank God. Now we have a chance.”

The howl reached a devastating crescendo as the flight of Supermarine Eagle TSR-2s sped over the trees to the north, but the noise was obliterated by the blast of bombs that they dropped, the shattering thunderclap of their impact sending Hughes scrambling to his knees. The Eagles curved and turned towards the south and Rhodesia, only having enough fuel for a single pass. That was enough, though, and ruin was left in their wake.

Captain Quinlan clambered up next to him.

“Now that’s what I call air support.”

“Quite right, Captain. Let’s hope that has dealt with those dashed guns. Private Macneill!”

“Sir?”

“Anything more from the Rhodies?”

“They’ve got two flights of Spectres that will be coming through for strafing runs en route to Kamina, the first one 9 minutes out, and one of Canberras shortly after that and a Valiant that should be here by 1805. ETA of the Rotodynes is 1825.”

“Excellent. Tell them that we’ll keep marking the targets with smoke as long as there is light.”

And so they did. The bomber strike seem to have put the fear of God into the Simbas, which Hughes thought was quite ironic given what had come to pass, and there were no further attacks for the next hour of the gathering African twilight. The Vickers Valiant had unleashed a further load of bombs that blasted and rocked the high ground to the east from here to eternity, the Canberras lit up the blasted treeline to the west and south with their own incendiary rockets and the RRAF de Havilland Spectres added their own bursts of cannon fire to the smouldering bush surrounding the Charlotteville compound before streaking away to the northwest.

After the storm of iron and death, the evening took on a far quieter character of the silence of the grave. If anything, the aerial deliverance did not end the tension nor really cut it, merely took the edge off it. This had been a long, brutal and altogether shocking day, full of fire and blood, yet the men of the Connaught Rangers remained steadfast and wary, watching the bush for the merest sign of life that could mean death.

“Major, sir? Message from the relief column - as of five minutes ago, they are now within artillery range, just. Do we require any further fire?”

“It wouldn’t seem so for the moment, Private.”

Before the last ebb of light faded away, they once again heard the welcome thump of rotors. It wasn’t until the first Rotodyne touched down and the QRF company of the RLI began to scramble off that Major Hughes finally gave a sigh of relief. Now the worst was over; now they would live.

“Major Hughes? I’m Major Andrew Steyn, 1st Rhodesian Light Infantry. Sir, you are relieved.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Major Steyn, and most welcome.”

“We’ve brought enough ammunition to see us through any kind of night, more mortars and two 25 pounders.”

“Guns. Good. I’d have been glad of guns earlier.”

“Things get a bit sticky?”

“They did.”

Steyn looked out into the burning bush to their north. “They are only likely to get stickier, Major Hughes. For now, we sit tight here and mark out the landing ground for the Paras.”

Hughes got the distinct impression that he was something of a persons non grata after the decision of the afternoon and that was not in any way dispelled by the arrival of 25 PARA some hours later. Their commander, a Colonel Faulkner, was thoroughly correct and correctly thorough, yet there was a coolness in their interaction that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There wasn’t much stillness nor solitude left in the Congolese night with the bustle of activity, patrols and blaring searchlights, but Hughes sought what he could find.

“What do you think, Father Crilly? Was it the right decision?”

“It was mine just as much as yours, Major. I think it was.”

“From the way it has been received, I’ll be lucky to get the command of Rockall after this.”

“Major Hughes, if they are going to throw the bell, book and candle at us, then I’m just as likely to end up exiled to some godforsaken island as you are! We were under siege by thousands of murdering savages with field artillery having seen their hellish handiwork just hours before.”

“And now -“

“Now, we will have to finish what you have started.” A new voice cut into the conversation, it’s brogue cut with a hard bitterness. Hughes turned to see an officer approaching through the darkness.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Major Hughes. Quaestor McEntee, Office of the Magisterium attached to GHQ Africa.”

“That was quick.”

“Some things get the wheels of army bureaucracy moving faster than others, Major. If you will come with me, there is much we have to discuss.”

“I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to allow me a few minutes alone.”

“No, Major. Allow me to disabuse you of the notion that you are facing…the end…Whilst what you’ve let loose is certainly unorthodox, to put it mildly, it isn’t something entirely out of keeping with the intent and desires of our political masters. Come now, sir, there’s a good officer and gentleman.”

[simon darkshade]

The Siege of Charlotteville Part 6

“Unless they are referring to a children’s book, I think that means that we’re about to get some aerial visitors. Lieutenant Dornan, have the mortars concentrate fire on the north. Purple smoke, if you please.”

“Yes, sir!”

The mortars thunked away and beyond the open killing ground to the north, purple smoke began rising from the treeline, providing a clear target indication for whatever friendly air support was inbound.

It began with a distant low pitched howl that grew ever greater as four tiny objects came hurtling through the sky from the northeast. At first they looked like black specks, but as Hughes trained his powerful ex-Gestapo binoculars upon them, he could see that they were white as the driven snow.

“Thank God. Now we have a chance.”

The howl reached a devastating crescendo as the flight of Supermarine Eagle TSR-2s sped over the trees to the north, but the noise was obliterated by the blast of bombs that they dropped, the shattering thunderclap of their impact sending Hughes scrambling to his knees. The Eagles curved and turned towards the south and Rhodesia, only having enough fuel for a single pass. That was enough, though, and ruin was left in their wake.

Captain Quinlan clambered up next to him.

“Now that’s what I call air support.”

“Quite right, Captain. Let’s hope that has dealt with those dashed guns. Private Macneill!”

“Sir?”

“Anything more from the Rhodies?”

“They’ve got two flights of Spectres that will be coming through for strafing runs en route to Kamina, the first one 9 minutes out, and one of Canberras shortly after that and a Valiant that should be here by 1805. ETA of the Rotodynes is 1825.”

“Excellent. Tell them that we’ll keep marking the targets with smoke as long as there is light.”

And so they did. The bomber strike seem to have put the fear of God into the Simbas, which Hughes thought was quite ironic given what had come to pass, and there were no further attacks for the next hour of the gathering African twilight. The Vickers Valiant had unleashed a further load of bombs that blasted and rocked the high ground to the east from here to eternity, the Canberras lit up the blasted treeline to the west and south with their own incendiary rockets and the RRAF de Havilland Spectres added their own bursts of cannon fire to the smouldering bush surrounding the Charlotteville compound before streaking away to the northwest.

After the storm of iron and death, the evening took on a far quieter character of the silence of the grave. If anything, the aerial deliverance did not end the tension nor really cut it, merely took the edge off it. This had been a long, brutal and altogether shocking day, full of fire and blood, yet the men of the Connaught Rangers remained steadfast and wary, watching the bush for the merest sign of life that could mean death.

“Major, sir? Message from the relief column - as of five minutes ago, they are now within artillery range, just. Do we require any further fire?”

“It wouldn’t seem so for the moment, Private.”

Before the last ebb of light faded away, they once again heard the welcome thump of rotors. It wasn’t until the first Rotodyne touched down and the QRF company of the RLI began to scramble off that Major Hughes finally gave a sigh of relief. Now the worst was over; now they would live.

“Major Hughes? I’m Major Andrew Steyn, 1st Rhodesian Light Infantry. Sir, you are relieved.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Major Steyn, and most welcome.”

“We’ve brought enough ammunition to see us through any kind of night, more mortars and two 25 pounders.”

“Guns. Good. I’d have been glad of guns earlier.”

“Things get a bit sticky?”

“They did.”

Steyn looked out into the burning bush to their north. “They are only likely to get stickier, Major Hughes. For now, we sit tight here and mark out the landing ground for the Paras.”

Hughes got the distinct impression that he was something of a persons non grata after the decision of the afternoon and that was not in any way dispelled by the arrival of 25 PARA some hours later. Their commander, a Colonel Faulkner, was thoroughly correct and correctly thorough, yet there was a coolness in their interaction that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There wasn’t much stillness nor solitude left in the Congolese night with the bustle of activity, patrols and blaring searchlights, but Hughes sought what he could find.

“What do you think, Father Crilly? Was it the right decision?”

“It was mine just as much as yours, Major. I think it was.”

“From the way it has been received, I’ll be lucky to get the command of Rockall after this.”

“Major Hughes, if they are going to throw the bell, book and candle at us, then I’m just as likely to end up exiled to some godforsaken island as you are! We were under siege by thousands of murdering savages with field artillery having seen their hellish handiwork just hours before.”

“And now -“

“Now, we will have to finish what you have started.” A new voice cut into the conversation, it’s brogue cut with a hard bitterness. Hughes turned to see an officer approaching through the darkness.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Major Hughes. Quaestor McEntee, Office of the Magisterium attached to GHQ Africa.”

“That was quick.”

“Some things get the wheels of army bureaucracy moving faster than others, Major. If you will come with me, there is much we have to discuss.”

“I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to allow me a few minutes alone.”

“No, Major. Allow me to disabuse you of the notion that you are facing…the end…Whilst what you’ve let loose is certainly unorthodox, to put it mildly, it isn’t something entirely out of keeping with the intent and desires of our political masters. Come now, sir, there’s a good officer and gentleman.”

“Very well, but I’m not leaving my men whilst we’re still in the field.”

“Of course, Major. If we could repair to your headquarters where we may speak privately, we can get the matter dealt with in a sufficient manner, at least for now.”

“Follow me.”

Hughes lead the way to the roof where he had commanded much of the afternoon’s fighting, the location providing what modicum of privacy that could be found. He looked out over the floodlit fields, now crawling with patrolling paratroopers.

“To begin with, Major, there is no question of any arrest or court martial; that your thinking went immediately towards that thought does suggest to me that you’re not quite thinking straight.”

“So now you suggest that I’m an LMF case? Cracked?”

“No, I suggest that you are ill. If you could drink this.”

“Truth serum or hemlock?”

“Neither. It is an elixir of dispelling, which should suffice until we can get you to a properly equipped hospital. Your reactions indicate that, in some fashion, you’ve been bewitched.”

“Oh.” Hughes swallowed the bitter golden liquid without further complaint. Within an instant, he began to feel different.

“Yes, oh. Upon my arrival, my arcanospectral thaumaturlite started giving extraordinarily high readings of enchantment and my subsequent field tests confirm the presence of a very focused dweomer of compulsion. Put simply, someone has tried to send you out of your mind and influence you to take some very rash decisions.”

“The Simbas? Seems out of their league.”

“Exactly, Major Hughes. This type of capacity is beyond virtually every individual mage in the world, suggesting a powerful state with a known expertise in such magics.”

“The Russians. But why?”

“Think about it, Major. The act of metacognition will assist in breaking the enchantment.”

“They wanted an overreaction. They wanted to have us massacre the Simbas…”

“If we had gone at them and given them the Amalekite treatment, it would have had a slightly deleterious affect on our position in Africa and the rest of the Empire.” It also suggested the McEntee that the security arrangements around Operation Motorman left something to be desired, but that was a separate matter for Army Counter Intelligence.

“So what happens?”

“Firstly, the Archbishop of Canterbury shall annul the invocation of the Ordinance; the circumstances are sufficient in his view. We shall still go after whatever Simbas are left in Katanga and show them what the Empire can do. Your men shall be part of the pursuit, as is your right. There will be an apparent deployment of black smoke near your company, but not close enough to actually hit you. Once the operation is complete, after being appropriately checked and cleansed in the field, you and the rest of your company are pulled back to the nearest thaumaturgical hospice in Cape Town for tests. There is no shame in it, anymore than if you’d been gassed during the last war.”

“You’re not going to actually smoke us?”

“No, Major. Apart from being utterly dishonourable, un-Christian and unspeakably beyond the pale, it would be ineffective as a measure to conceal anything. Losing a whole company would bring down the government to boot. It will be quite ordinary smoke, not the Martian stuff.”

“I’m gratified that we’re not being sacrificed. But it shan’t be enough. Squaddies talk, not to mention the gendarmes and the civvies.”

“How do you hide something that has happened, Major? Have something else happen that is apparently of far greater significance. These are not the days of 1940, when there was no hiding what had been done to the Germans in the Channel that night. This is the year 1965 and we are far more experienced at what needs to be done. Firstly, some brand new aircraft will arrive here later this morning, along with journalists keen to see them. That will steal the thunder of any peripheral accidents. However, the local cover will be blown away by greater winds.”

“What type of winds.”

“It can’t hurt to tell you. In the morning, it will be announced that the Prime Minister has flown to Ceylon to sign a new agreement with President Kennedy over basing and the war in South East Asia. That is where the future is, Major - Colombo. This? This never happened?”

…………………………………………….

Just after 9 o’clock, as McEntee had outlined, the arrival of the armoured relief column of the Ulsters was accompanied by half a dozen Rotodynes and two HS.681s coming into land on the blasted flat ground to the north of the compound. Their loads of journalists, medics and assorted support troops came moving across the field that had served as yesterday’s killing ground, all the while snapping pictures of the large black jet that circled above.

It looked unlike anything Hughes had ever seen before. It’s large semi-delta wings, weighed heavily with rocket pods, bombs and missiles, looked conventional enough, but it clearly sported several turrets above and below the fuselage like an old Lancaster. Several large guns stuck out from one side of the aircraft, but most striking of all was the sight of what could only be a field gun extending out of one of the bomb-bays on a rotating mount.

“The Armstrong-Whitworth Warspite, Major. The British Empire’s latest gunship, flown up from the testing grounds i the Kalahari. I am told that it performs just as well in the dead of night as the bright of day. The future, Major, is now.”explained Quaestor McEntee. Strange fellow, but there did not seem to be anything dark about him.

“Would have been handy, yesterday, Major.”

“Indeed, Captain Quinlan. Once we’ve got the men fully resupplied, have them parade ready to move out. Time to take the war to these lions.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Quaestor. I hope we shall meet again?” Hughes allowed only a scintilla of his doubt to come through.

“We shall, Major. Good hunting.”

…………………………….

Operation Motorman merited an 87 word article on Page 42 of The Times later that week. It briefly described successful defensive actions and offensive sweeps against Communist terrorist gangs on the Congolese-Rhodesian border, the operational debut of the Warspite and, in a bland sentence, told of the successful use of HS.681s to evacuate lightly wounded casualties from the field to Rhodesia and and South Africa.

…………………………..

“As you can see, we keep our word.” said McEntee to Hughes in the latter’s room in the hospital on Robben Island.

“I’m gratified. What happens to us all now?”

“Two weeks quarantine, after which time the men and junior officers will return to the battalion. Their next posting has been brought forward - the Falkland Islands. Your good Captain Quinlan is to be promoted. Father Crilly was been offered a choice of an exciting new role bringing the Lord’s word to the natives on Nauru or a promotion to head British military chaplain at the Kerguelen Prison.”

“Native girls on a tropical paradise or Rudolf Hess. I don’t envy the good Father such a terribly hard decision.”

“It won’t be for long, I am told. The Prime Minister was apparently fully supportive of smiting the Simbas hip and thigh when he was informed, Colonel Hughes.”

“What’s this Colonel business?”

“One part of your reward, as it were. The others are double pay for the next two years and getting to choose your next posting -“

“In that case, back home in Galway.”

“Please, allow me to finish, Colonel. You get to choose between Easter Island or a secondment to the British Martian Army.”

“I see. My family?”

“Will travel with you at the expense of Her Majesty’s Government, naturally.”

“Tell me about life on Mars, Quaestor.”

…………………………………

“And that concludes our sanitisation operation after the events at Charlotteville and the success of Thunderchild, Prime Minister.”

“Thank you, General Freeland. Setting aside the issue of the bewitching, do you characterise it as a success?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve smashed the Simbas out of Katanga for the foreseeable future at minimal loss.”

“But not at minimal expense.”

“No, sir.”

“It cost a pretty penny, but we’ve got the agreement of the Congolese to use Kamina. That is a decent enough return on investment. Thank you, Lieutenant-General, that will be all.”

“Yes, sir.”

After Freeland had left the room, Barton turned to Sir Richard Pendragon, Secretary of State for War, who had accompanied him here to Ceylon for the signing and special Anglo-American meeting on the war in Viet Nam.

“A reasonable outcome, compared to what could have been.”

“Yes, Prime Minister. Our irons could have really been in the fire.”

“Quite. Even so, I don’t want it happening again. I want a report on fire support options and contingencies for brushfire operations like this one. Guns and aircraft.”

“Very good.”

“We’ve got to have other options for the Congo and other parts of free Africa as well. Something effective, but deniable. Private.”

“I see, Prime Minister. Won’t the Americans get wind of that?”

“We have to presume they already know the lot, Richard. They aren’t the most subtle of bunches, the cousins.”

“No, Prime Minister, they are not…but what in particular is the source of this presumption.”

“Their listening post, twenty miles from Charlotteville. Christians in Action indeed.”

“Ah, yes. I see, Prime Minister.”

Barton nodded in satisfaction at Pendragon’s comprehension. There was only one more nagging issue that had come out of the Siege of Charlotteville, which had come from very quiet questioning through…channels…of their Russian informers.

Nothing had been found to indicate that the dweomer had been of Soviet origin.

Curious[/i][/i]