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Blood, Sweat, and Tears

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  • Blood, Sweat, and Tears

    The following is a story of a war that never happened in a multiplayer game, but could have on numerous occasions. I played the Americans, Jason the King played the Greeks, the rest were computer civilizations. I hope you enjoy my humble effort.
    I am a prisoner on a ship of fools.

  • #2
    Colonel Omar Bradley, commander of the 34th Armored Regiment and close friend of Commander of the Army, George S. Patton, sat contemplatively in the office of his said friend. Patton, not one to live simply, made sure to get a corner office on the top floor of the 15 story People’s Defense Office in Chinook. The impressive view given off by the plate glass of the walls showed Chinook in all its glory, from closed off Wall Street to the decaying statue whose torch had long since fallen into the Potomac finally to the growing People's State Building. It occurred to Bradley if it wasn’t for his efficiency in armored warfare against the Byzantines, Patton likely would have long since been purged by the Roosevelt government for his unfortunate love of the perks of the bourgeois life.
    “Those god damn, moronic jackasses!” shouted Patton to Bradley, or perhaps just to the world in general. “They want MY army for this,” struggling for a word, Patton continued, “Insanity!” “How can they do this to me? After all I have done for the State they take MY army to go swimming in the Agatean!” Not one to bring the wrath of Patton upon his head, Bradley nodded noncommittally. “George, you did gain command of two of the State’s finest new army groups in exchange,” he began. Patton twisted his lip scornfully, “Recruits! Conscripts! And God help us, Volunteers! Not ten of them a match for any one man in the old 1st Army. By God, Brad, those were soldiers, not this new rabble! And they took them to the sea! When they cross that damn Greek navy will tear them to pieces. We are soldiers not mother****ing sailors!”
    “So is it war then George? Will we attack the Greeks?” inquired Bradley. Pulling back his mouth into a vicious grin, Patton responded, “Yes is it, for better or worse. We need something of theirs, we cannot afford to trade, so it is obviously time to liberate the repressed people of the Grecian Republic and place them under the progressive rule of the United Socialist Soviets of America.” Patton allowed himself a laugh. “You should have seen the damn advisors dancing around Roosevelt, more than half of them have been dying to fight the Greeks, especially since that Byzantine peacekeeping incident. Once word came in, everyone in the room was for the attack.” “’In accordance for the recent provocative Greek policy towards our lands around Philadelphia and their recent border incursions, the USSA will declare war on the Grecian Republic.’ Amazing how I can manage to say that with a straight face.” Bradley was confused, “What border incursions? My regiment has been on that border for months and there hasn’t been any.” Patton continued his belligerent smile, “There will be.”

    Another smile many miles away, unknowingly mimicked Patton’s hostile grin, and boded just as badly for the Greek Army. However instead of being surrounded by plate glass and the hustle and bustle of a great port, this face was painted in green and black and had a twisted scar across the left cheek, the remnants of a past life. Instead of a city, he was surrounded by the sinister and consistent background noises of the dark Carthaginian jungle, broken only by the sound of diesel motors coming up the dirt road which was the lifeline to a Greek outpost deep in the jungle, designed to suppress the local inhabitants. Instead of holding a baton like the American general, this man held 50-caliber Browning machine gun.
    Hannibal had long ago been a simple merchant in the city of Utica. Then the Greek Army marched through. The devastation wrought upon his home town and the raping and murder of his wife and daughters in front of his very eyes would likely never leave his mind. The hatred for the Greeks burned in his very mind and he and his son swore they would not rest until every Greek in Carthage was slain, hopefully as brutally as their family was. Of course ten years had since past, the rebellion growing and building up, forcing the Greeks to send more and more of their soldiers and Mayan conscripts to the dark jungles of Carthage. In these years, many a soldier of the Grecian Republic had met an early death, while many other wished for death a long while before receiving it. The fires in Hannibal’s heart were stroked to even greater heat when his son was caught and executed publicly in Athens as a notorious traitor to the Republic. Recently though the damn Greeks had been winning over his countrymen, bringing pledges of the new suffrage for all people and living together as equals as men and women. This propaganda had cause recruitment to falter, and recently some of his oldest supporters were even beginning to desert.
    But that was in the past, now the Greek supply trucks were stopping for the conveniently fallen tree which blocked the narrow road. Without hesitation Hannibal’s men opened fire, flashes of light and tracers reaching out into the convoy wrecking havoc upon the trucks and the men and supplies they were transporting. Hannibal grinned wildly as an explosion rocked the earth as what appeared to be an ammo truck went up in a great fireball. The Greeks were now jumping out of their trucks and returning fire. A man near Hannibal cried out and fell back as a red stain appeared on his chest. However, the battle was one-sided in the Carthaginians’ favor and the Greek fire faltered, and eventually stopped. Not much remained of the convoy except scattered bodies and the flaming hulks of trucks.
    The Carthaginians, having accomplished another victory against the Greek army, pulled back into the jungle, putting out flames which could ignite a fire that could envelop the jungle and gathering their wounded while executing the Greek wounded. Hannibal looked around and nodded in satisfaction. Today had been another step forward in the struggle for independence. Tomorrow the fight would go on.

    President Jason, of the Greek Republic, sighed emotionally. The paperwork continued to grow and though he couldn’t prove it, seemed to multiply upon his very desk without outside intervention. Being the second most powerful man on the face of the Earth was highly overrated. It seemed the world had more problems than he could handle.
    One the very top of his pile, the Carthaginian rebels continued to fight and signs of American involvement continued to grow. Paper after paper, report after report, all kept telling him the same thing: America was arming the rebels. This wasn’t his problem though, American arms were easily available through Incan markets and Incan territory was easily and unfortunately accessible to the Carthaginians. Rather the problem was despite everything Carthage continued to have its rebels, troublemakers, and rioters. Every time one of them was appeased or executed, it seemed two more sprung up in his place. The question was why. Hadn’t his government done what it could to equalize all the people of the Greek Republic? Hadn’t his people brought modern technology and civilization to the barely literate Carthaginian people? Jason sighed once again; some people just couldn’t be satisfied.
    Yet another report came to the top of the pile, the Americans had been massing a good deal of naval transport stock, for reasons unknown, although numerous military analysists believed that this was precursor to a war with the Hittite Kingdom. Jason signed a few sheets of paper and suggested that this development should be observed.
    Jason leaned back and thought. It always came down to the Americans. First that incident over the technology scandal in Carthage which had resulted in the downfall of the American democracy to the communist dictatorship it lay under today in this modern age of 1941. Then came the preventative Greek peacekeeping force in Byzantium to prevent the Americans from overrunning that poor nation. Then of course came the struggle with the Hittites, the Great Depression, and the Incan civil war which resulted in the rising of a communist regime in that nation as well. Always behind the scenes the Americans worked to strengthen their power and weaken the Greeks’. Of course if the Americans ever worked up the courage to actually attack they’d have to break through the impregnable line of defense along the border, and then an even strong line behind that first line of defense long the Olympus-Sparta line. Greece was quite safe from any major attack.
    Perhaps one day things could escalate, but Jason sincerely doubted it. The world had more or less been at peace for nearly 50 years, why should things change now? At any rate the production reports from Thermopylae needed to be acknowledged and signed. Thinking of the world’s state could be left for a future moment.
    I am a prisoner on a ship of fools.

    Comment


    • #3
      is this based on the game you wrote about in "a tale of two nations"? i hope, cause that was very well written, too bad you never finished. Check my story out when you get time, if you havent already.

      The rise of German and fall of the Dutch
      I reject your reality and substitute my own!

      Visit the stories forum My stories.... The Rise of Germany and Fall of the Dutch and Germany Falling

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      • #4
        EQ, you should stop by more often.
        XBox Live: VovanSim
        xbox.com (login required)
        Halo 3 Service Record (I fail at FPS...)
        Spore page

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        • #5
          I hope this isn't the end for this story.... more please
          I reject your reality and substitute my own!

          Visit the stories forum My stories.... The Rise of Germany and Fall of the Dutch and Germany Falling

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          • #6
            Interesting, and promising. I commend you.

            Were the Carthaginian rebels resisting citizens or actual units in the game?
            If I only had a brain...

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