Author Notes:
I swear man, why had I included some jokes in an otherwise grim setting? My writing style baffles even myself despite the few years under my belt.
Lately, other than taking care of my own sickness, I have been regularly accompanying my mom to her therapy sessions. Each opportunity, each time we go there, fill me with a sense of gratitude for you all, dear readers and supporters. And, perhaps because I have underwent some introspection lately, may I say something? It's more of a better-say-than-not thing...
If I am to be unreachable for six months straight, consider me as K.I.A. Deceased. Passed Away. Isekaied.
That or it's because something terribly wrong has happened. Something that quite possibly life changing for me that I can't continue what I love most.
Yuki: https://postimg.cc/gLHMQgwZ
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As Yuki and Bryn depart with a staff retinue of their own, Rosa is attended to by Mary, who thankfully passes her a cup of refreshing tea to soothe the breaking news she's just heard. After downing that familiar delectable bitterness, Rosa puts the empty cup on the tea tray before handing them back to Mary with a grateful nod. Rosa's cabinet of civil and military officials, seeing that their Queen has successfully digested the recent flow of events, deferentially interjects.
"Your Majesty, about the scheduled Operation Undercut...?" One of the military representatives tentatively asks, as, quite literally, one of the major components of their upcoming military operation has just gone out the door.
Rosa, understanding the concern, raises a hand to placate the representative.
"Operation Undercut will continue as planned. While the pressing circumstances forced the Reich Marshal to divert the 4th Expeditionary Strike Group, she never mentioned anything about pulling the 2nd Carrier Strike Group from the support roster for Operation Undercut. Knowing the Marshal, she only needs the 3rd and 4th Expeditionary Strike Groups to completely occupy London and bring Erusea to its knees, leaving the 2nd Carrier Strike Group to focus on supporting our own invasion of Gibraltar. Now, everyone here should have a good enough idea of how effective a Belkan Naval Strike Group is, and an ESG is already overkill when deployed against a land as small as Gibraltar, much less a full CSG. Given that we will also be deploying nearly all of our Mediterranean Fleet as well, I am more afraid of us sinking Gibraltar than actually taking it."
Rosa's words make the cabinet ponder, and they ultimately accept them as factual. Gibraltar nowadays, lacking any naval presence worth a damn, is ripe for the taking, even without the aid of the Belkan Reichsmarine. The best that lone Erusean territory has to defend against an amphibious invasion is, for the most part, a few obsolete gun batteries and land bunkers. Just the gunfire from ships like the Richelieu or Dunkerque alone will be more than enough to silence those land-bound and stationary artillery, paving the way for a two-pronged amphibious landing on the Eastern and Western Beaches of Gibraltar. Coincidentally, the airport of Gibraltar is right in the middle of the two landing zones, making it a high-priority target to be captured. With the airport in Ustian control, resupplying their invasion force can be made swifter, provided the sole runway remains intact. The only possible issue is...
"The Gibraltar airport borders the province of Cádiz, Andalusia, and its immediate populous center, the city of La Línea. Given the confined nature of the battlezone, we must be careful in the employment of our naval guns, lest we shoot long and hit the Spanish city." An old man, who also represents the noble faction loyal to Rosa, interjects with an understandable warning. "Even though we have already notified the Spanish Inquisition of our impending movement, I don't think they will take it kindly to being shelled out of the blue."
Rosa nods. "I believe Admiral Gensoul understands this point well. It's why, if you look at the map of the battlezone, you will see him positioning the Mediterranean Fleet in a danger-close distance to the shore batteries on Gibraltar. While this will risk his fleet being hit by the artillery, it does ensure that our sailors won't cause an international incident. If anything, I would hate for the Reich to bail us out of the very mess we caused."
The concern isn't misplaced. Indeed, in long-distance naval gunnery, a warship's salvo can miss its targets by kilometers, provided a combination of bad luck and even worse weather. To avoid this, Admiral Gensoul splits his warships into three smaller formations, covering the East, West, and South of Gibraltar, respectively. Each formation will engage at point-blank range, a distance of less than five kilometers, and aim to achieve as flat a ballistic trajectory as possible, thereby minimizing the risk of overshooting a target. The South, in particular, is where the capital ships of the Mediterranean Fleet will be focusing. The East and West of Gibraltar, with their bays and sandy beaches, will be protected by the smaller light cruisers and destroyers, vessels with a shallower draught to prevent them from hitting shallow reefs and underwater sandbanks.
Thanks to ONI and the readily available support from the Belkan Carrier Strike Group, Gibraltar's defenses will be suppressed, and quite easily so, at least on paper. This will then pave the way forward for the two-pronged invasion conducted jointly by Rosa's Vichya Libre and the Ustian Colonial Army. And since Gibraltar now doesn't have much of an Erusean military presence, Ustio can comfortably overwhelm the small territory with a sea of soldiers. The only other possible fear is that some Colonial soldiers will get too trigger-happy and accidentally fire on the civilian populace of Gibraltar. To hopefully prevent this issue from the get-go, Rosa has to send over some of the veterans from her Vichya Libre Army to advise the Colonial troops. With the veterans sharing with the Colonial soldiers how Ustio is conducting its war now, adhering to a slightly adapted Belkan doctrine, the integration of both armed forces under Rosa's rule should be smoother. This is one of the main reasons why Operation Undercut is formulated, other than adding salt to the injury of the Eruseans. On the ground, the veterans will also be responsible for coordinating with friendly fire support, as they have a lot of experience working with both Belkan and Ustian assets. Coincidentally, this will be the first time the Ustian Colonial Force will be subjected to the Ustian-Belkan brand of modern warfare.
Rosa is highly curious to see the post-battle statistics for Gibraltar, perhaps even more so than seeing how Yuki will squash Erusea, since that is already kinda a foregone conclusion. The Queen of Ustio needs to get a feel of how her soldiers and officers, excluding those in the Vichya Libre Army, fight before working on a comprehensive improvement plan for all of them. Rosa hopes that, much like what Yuki did a few years ago, she can slowly but surely elevate the Ustian military into a worthy level of being an undisputed superpower. It's a feat that will require the recovering Ustio to acquire a robust economy and the hearts and minds of the people. The latter, in particular, should hopefully be achieved, at least partially, by a resounding victory in Gibraltar.
A win is a win, after all.
"That said, it will be both a conundrum and hilarious if Erusea capitulates first before we can invade Gibraltar." Rosa suddenly says, putting exasperated and wry grins on the faces of the rest of the cabinet.
Call them arrogant, but the only way for Gibraltar not to be forced under an eventual Ustio rule is for the Kingdom of Erusea to straight up admit defeat right now. They, Ustio, now have more than enough capital to have the confidence that a patch of land like Gibraltar absolutely won't be an issue. And, for the most part, they will be correct in assuming such.
Nothing can quite withstand a 15-inch gun to the face and live to tell the tale.
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London has fallen, if not now, then it will be soon.
If one is to overlook the capital of the Kingdom of Erusea from above, one can see scenes of arson, riots, and active combat in what used to be the crown jewel of a colonial regime. The already moody sky, common to London and by extension the rest of Erusea, turns a few shades bleaker with all the gunfires, horrified screams, and uncontrollable flame spreading through entire neighborhoods. Even without the Belkans coming at them with bombers and warships, the Eruseans seem to be doing just fine in blasting their own capital to Hell in what seems to be a three-way war, sometimes even more than that in the Fog of War-induced chaos.
Why a three-way free-for-all, you may ask? Considering the mess inflicted upon the entire Erusean regime and its people in London, would it surprise you that a few of the greedy capitalists and nobles will be spurred to try and fish in muddied water? To the three factions fighting the ground war, an incoming reinforcement may as well be a potential backstabber. No one knows for sure which side is which anymore. A combination of wavering loyalty, non-uniform dress code, ineffective means of communication... Have made it so that identification of friends or foes largely defaults to conversation like this:
"Hey Tim, do you know that guy over there?"
"I don't know Bob, seems kinda sus to me..."
"What's the countersign again?"
"Jenkins."
"Alright, 'ere we go then... LEEROY~!!!"
"... JENKINS!!!"
"Well, the countersign checks out, at least."
"Wait, there could be a traitor among us that gave away the countersign."
"Everybody and their rat's ass are traitors in your eyes, but just in case..."
"Shoot first, ask questions later?"
"Sounds like a plan."
While it may seem hilarious, I assure you, this really does happen, and it happened at least twice.
Regardless, the warring factions of London, for all their thoughts and motivations, do share the same interest: the Buckingham Palace, or to be more specific, King George VI himself. While the enraged civilians and militia want to hold the reigning government accountable, and the capitalists are sporting their own selfish agendas, those still loyal to the Erusean Crown are mired in a battle that never ends around Buckingham Palace and its associated governmental buildings. The most common of soldiers, Royal Guards, and police men fight tooth and nail for each brick, each tile, each patch of soil against a chaotic tide of civilians, hired guns, and their former comrades. When one wave is beaten back, another wave from a different faction will surge up, hoping to overwhelm the defenders in their exhaustion. Knowing what's behind them, however, the staunch defenders of the Crown, either out of loyalty or being swept up in the moment, refused to be dislodged easily. And thanks to the armories inside the scattered Royal Guard stations around the Buckingham Palace, the defense line is well stocked in munitions and equipment. Even though the defenders are lacking in number, they even the playing field by having the most machine guns, with those being stationed throughout their defense line. In the few hours since the start of this whole mess, sandbags and barricades, makeshift as they may be, have become the defenders' best friends.
Having set up a command post inside the Buckingham Palace itself, Colonel William Bradshaw of the Scots Guard Regiment has been staring at the hastily scribbled map of London when a runner barges in, bringing with him the most recent news about their leaders.
"Colonel, sir!" The runner is just about to salute despite his ragged breath when the Regimental Colonel cuts in tersely.
"Give me a situation report, not a salute, Private. What of our King and Queen? Are the physicians able to help them?"
The runner takes a breath before shaking his head regretfully. "The King has had his shoulder injury bandaged, but the Queen is fighting for her life, Colonel. The doctors are trying to get all the bullets out, but she's losing too much blood."
Frowning, Colonel Bradshaw sighs. "God save the Queen... Does the King say anything, Private?"
"Only to hold our ground, protect our heritage, and strike where it's hurt. Other than that, you will have free rein, sir."
"Free rein on killing our own people, right?" The Colonel of the Scots Guards says, his voice frayed due to the absurdity of the unfolding situation. "I sign up for the Guards to protect the Crown, not to shoot at civilians, damn it..."
Perhaps exhausted by the nerve-wracking hours he just pulled, Colonel Bradshaw massages his temple, and the cuffs of his shirts show splatters of dried blood. It's clear that he experienced some fisticuffs himself before he got to the command post. The runner and the rest of his staff mindfully stay silent as the Colonel takes some breaths to regain his spirit. Moments later, Colonel Bradshaw says with arms crossed.
"Nevertheless, the show must go on. Since the King wants this place secured, the Scots Guards will not let a single rat come in. Continue on with the defense effort, and make sure our communication trenches and supply lines remain intact at all times. Also, make sure to report immediately on high-threat targets so that we can immediately formulate a response." Having said that, Colonel Bradshaw then turns to the runner from before. "Have the other messengers departed for the units outside the city?"
The Private nods. "Yes, sir. The messenger teams managed to break through the danger zones and have already gone beyond the city walls. With any luck, the first team will make contact with the Royal 22nd Regiment soon, sir."
"Don't count on the Canadians bailing us out on this one yet." The Colonel reminds. "After the mess in the Channel, I won't be surprised if they decide to take their sweet time coming into London. For now, we plan with what we have until the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders Regiment arrives."
Colonel Bradshaw barely finishes his words when another soldier barges in, shouting.
"No good, sir! Damned rebels got a tank rolling up Trafalgar Square! The Royal Horse Guards are trying to intercept it, but they're lacking in heavy firepower!"
Slamming the table, Colonel Bradshaw curses. "Where the fuck did they get a tank!? Did they fish it up in Dunkirk!?"
Having said that, Colonel Bradshaw prepares to storm out of the well-protected command post. "You two, come with me to the armory. The rest of you, keep everything running until I return. Now, move, soldiers!"