This NEW T2K topic is the place for a different aspect of the T2K Campaign!

The T2K Campaign has generated a HUGE amount of interest and enthusiasm AND I know that there are a LOT of "stories" lurking out there...Gib, Keenan, Tread and many others!

Now here’s the deal-

Gib has kindly offered to weave our tales together (as best as he can given the WIDE range of imagination here) into an Overall Storyline. We’d also like to have everyone submit their individual stories. We intend to find a way to "publish" everyone’s story. You don’t need to be Ernest Hemingway or Tom Clancy to take part in this. All you need is the story that was the basis for your build. Was it some of the local farmers fixing up an old Sherman? Maybe it was the remnants of an American armored unit trapped behind enemy lines in Poland? Whatever story is the setting for your build, we want it! I’ve seen the bits and pieces of stories that have been posted on the "T2K Where Is Everyone" forum. There are a lot of tales to be told! The details are GREAT! Tractor weights, images of soldiers spending sleepless nights frantically building some of the Battlewagons!

That said- PLEASE forward your STORYLINE to Gib! It doesn’t matter if its’ one paragraph, 20 pages, whatever- let him have it! This is a chance to make this Campaign even BETTER!!

Details will follow soon. Deadlines for stories is TBD, but NOT Dec. 31. We (well me at least) all need that time to BUILD!

For now start working on your stories! Develop them; maybe post a few bits and pieces or maybe the overview of your story. Once we have a venue for "publishing" all this great stuff we’ll announce it and then we can all go on a virtual Book Signing tour!

Get those word processors fired up…UNCLE GUNNIE WANTS YOUR STORY!

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

Hee hee.
I'll start mine directly. This is getting better all of the time.

Shaun

" Once upon a time, in the land of Nod....."


I've already started mine awhile back, but being a weee bit of a frustrated writer...I'm editing.

Tread.

OUTSTANDING!

...Vlad stretched and groaned to exercize the Demon in his lower back. It was a viciously cold Alaskan morning - as cold as it was when they first airdropped onto the slopes outside Anchorage. The BMD was little, smelled bad, and frozen. The rubber skirts and deflection plates as rigid as steel and glinting in the morning dawn. A couple of years before, Vladimir would have thought this a glorious day to go into battle. After the tough American response and stalemate - he felt otherwise. Tired, cold, hungry, and close to mutiny - his men had to endure one more mission for the 6th Guards Airborne Division today.

The Americans finally got enough spares and reserves to get one of their LARS platoons up and running - and he and his comrades knew they were armed with tactical nuclear rockets. The locals were not subtle in their new found resistance. Damn them! They could not retreat - their hovercraft had all been knocked out by Canadian Special Forces - and the Americans were coming with only one thing in mind, he mused to himself silently taking a cup of bitter coffee (engine oil more like it) from his young conscript gunner...

Total Annihilation!

Hmmmmm, why you little John Grisham you!!!


Tread.

WooooooooHoooooo!!

Damn this is fun!

Treadhead said...



Boy do I know that feeling!

Nice Gunnie- I can't wait to hear the rest of the story! You're a man of many talents...

Why thank you Sir! I once fancied writing a Star Trek: Starfleet Marine Novel and even a Twilight: 2000 Adventure Module. Alas, serving in the Air Force got in the way of those plans. My T2K background story and model entries are all vehicles from the unpublished manuscript. I'm just gonna share it with you all!

"Col. Fofanov stood under the maple tree near the top of the hilltop, the young sharpshooter in the branches above covering his "VERY important person"...Hmmmph. He was important only because he had lived this long, not because he possessed any unique talent. His mind turned to dark thoughts at all the fighting and destruction he had seen, and all for nothing it seemed.

Lifting his binoculars he took another look over the lakes in the area called "the Iron Range" by the Americans. This Minnesota was a very nice place, and generally unspoiled by the war, but this cold November morning reminded him of others he had known growing up half a world away... At least only one relatively small nuclear weapon had detontated in this area, and well over 3 years ago. While the city of Duluth was largly destroyed, the layout of the surrounding hills, and the large mass of water in Lake Superior had muted a tremendous amount of the fallout that had so utterly destroyed so much of all the other remains he had seen these years. So much opportunity lost...

He shook his head, as if to clear the darkness from it. At least they had a chance to start something positive now, and the means to accomplish it. The "lucky discovery", he still found it hard to think of lest he somehow reveal the secret too soon to the world...Ha!, would offer them the chance to get a really good foothold in the area, to begin to be civilized again. But you don't release that kind of hope to the soldiers too soon, oh no, not too soon...

Making sure his protector could not see his face, Fofanov let a small smile creep across his face, if only briefly. It must be something in the water, he was becoming less pessamistic here. Why, given enough time, he might actually become an optimist, and look back on his russian pessimism and laugh at himself.

At least he had good reason to be "less pessamistic" now. His beautiful guntruck, "warwagon" his compatriots called it, was a thing that would put real fear into any raider or warlord in the area. The other vehicles at his command were also usefull tools, and those that would be soon available would be even more helpfull.

"We should not linger too much longer, lest your Major become...concerned. Time to leave Pvt. Anderson."

The Col. turned to leave, walking back to guntruck 02. The big red star on the door put warmth in his heart as the american soldier removed himself from the tree. The guntruck driver had two nice, warm cups of GOOD coffee waiting for them as well when they returned from their patrol.

As Fofanov got into his seat, he thought "Yes, I will like it here." But he did not smile this time. Not yet, not with so much left to do.

Hey, I was just thining maybe we ought to post the "Chapters" over in the campaign deal. That we could read everyone's in order and quickly check for updates. I know I am not using mine for much else.

Thoughts?

Shaun

We considered that at first, but opted to seek a different solution. The present Journal setup doesn't allow for editing - really, really, important for reading, proofing, and spellchecking

Great....fantastic modelers and writers!! I can't compete with this kinda stuff. I think I'll just stick to practicing on plastic.

Heh heh - DON'T say that! You don't need an elaborate story to participate. Heck - if you stand still long enough - one of these guys is liable to write it for you!

Stuke...this isn't a contest...its' for FUN!!!

If you want to write have at it ! If not...have a good read!

Didn't realize you couldn't speell chech you're entyies in the camping jornal.

Shuan #:-) #:-)

Yup, what Jaster said.

PM ME YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS AND I'LL FORWARD TO YOU THE FIRST DRAFTS

(yup, I still owe you an email Animal. Will send it in a few minutes.)

I hope to interweave all your storylines by following the pattern/writing style of General Sir John Hackett's "August 1984: The Third World War" (which is a must read BTW for Cold War enthusiasts).

Your storylines need not be several pages long (but if it is, it's still ok), and it may be just a brief paragraph or two. It could be anything - say how your build was modified as such, or how it died in a blaze-of-glory, etc. etc. Hence, for an idea, try reading the opening pages of the above book (if your home library or neighborhood library has it) or PM me your email address and I'll send you the first draft to give you an idea.

Been busy with school and work lately but hopefully over the holidays I'll be able to edit and weave everything into one story.

Thanks to Jaster for posting this thread up.

Howdy GIB,

I'm still working on my 'storyline', and I promise I will submit a draft or two, but first I wanted to take the opportunity, in front of God and all the members listening (sorry for the 'official' sounding voice there, but I couldn't get James Earl Jones to do a 'voice-over') to thank you for taking the time to assemble all of these rather 'non-linear' narrative's we are submitting, and kneading them into an understandable novella! I salute you Obi-Wan!

Tread. #:-)

Hmmm... a bit quiet in this thread... so to make this a weeeeeee bit active, here's the draft I just made for the Thunderbolt I'm building. Take note of the bio of the Thunderbolt that I originally posted at my campaign journal.

Here's the story:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sabot up!

Our company of Thunderbolts were well dug-in by the time the Russians made their third attack in this part of the line. The previous attack left the Challenger II that originally held this position of the line was destroyed when a two Smerch rockets directly hit the relatively-thinly armored roof of the tank, destroying the tank in an immense explosion during the preparatory artillery barrage that preceded a Russian onslaught. It was a total loss, and the British crew had already burned down to ashes when the wreckage was towed away by an M88A2. It was a lucky hit for the Soviets, a fatal one for the British. And so now we occupied that same dug-out, hoping that the additional DU armor the guys back home slapped on all sides of the M1A2E1 (including the top) would protect us if it were to happen again.

As usual, the attack was preceded by a ten-minute long barrage of rocket and tube artillery fire from the Soviets. Fortunately for us this time, no artillery shell or rocket directly hit us, except for the usual bomblets that would render any soft-skinned vehicle a burning wreck, although [1st. Lt.] Jack's [Jack Reynolds] Thunderbolt did receive a single rocket hit on the turret, rendering the CITV and TIS inoperable, but the tank was still working, although it did rattle the crew, including Jack.

"Here they come boys," our CO told us over the radio, as the last of the rockets and artillery from the Soviets laid down a thick curtain of smoke in the battlefield. I told my gunner [Sgt.] Tony [Engelson] to get ready.

"Sh*t sir, I can't see a thing," said Tony. The Soviets were using a new kind of smoke that reduced the effectiveness of our thermal sights.

Boom! We heard one of our tanks down the line open up with their massive 155mm gun. A second later, Tony and I saw the explosion in our thermal sights. One of us had already scored a kill.

Then they came. At 2,500 meters, I saw the unmistakable shape of a Soviet T-80U.

"Target tank!" I told my gunner.

"Identified!" said Tony.

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

BOOM! We fired off an APFSDS round and saw it fly straight and true at the T-80U. The round penetrated the turret front, and we saw the turret fly high to the sky when the round hit. Scored one. There would be more.

"Target tank!" This time Tony saw it first. Our autoloader had already loaded another sabot round when he saw our next quarry.

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

BOOM! Another T-80U's turret flew upwards as the round penetrated the armor. Their Kontakt-5 ERA was no match with our DU 155mm Super Silver Bullets at this range.

WHAM! Our tank shook as we got a frontal hit from somewhere. I cursed. No one is going to hit me without being hit back, I thought to myself.

"There he is! Gunner, tank!" I told Tony as I pressed the over-ride switch, slewing the turret directly at the enemy tank. It was a Black Eagle, a tougher nut to crack.

"Identified!"

"Fire!"

BOOM! Yet another Super Silver Bullet penetrated a Soviet tank, this time a Black Eagle which had better and thicker armor than the two T-80Us we destroyed earlier. This time, the enemy tank's turret didn't go flying up in the air, but we did kill it as it stopped and flames burst out from where the hatches.

"Target PC, 10 o'clock!" my loader and assistant gunner Mike [West] said in his cupola as he helped look around for targets thru his vision blocks, while the autoloader was in full auto.

The gunner slewed the turret in that position. It was a BMP-3.

"Fire!" I said, spotting the BMP-3 as well.

BOOM! The BMP-3 was killed as the sabot round penetrated the engine and fuel tank.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The enemy was throwing at us another rocket artillery barrage at the line.

"Bravo Company, pull back. Pull back," calmly ordered our company XO. I told [Private 1st Class] Jim [Stevenson] to bring us to the second set of prepared positions 1,500 meters behind us.

Our tank was reversing when two Black Eagles appeared out of the thick smoke in front of us.

"Target tank!" said Tony.

"Fire!"

BOOM!

"Sabot up!" said Mike as the green LED lit up, indicating that another Super Silver Bullet was loaded - all in 10 seconds.

"Fire!"

BOOM!

Within 20 seconds the two Black Eagles were killed. I could see the crew of one escaping the thru the hatches. The other one burned fiercely on that cold morning.

Jim had put the pedal-to-the-metal as the entire company - or what remained of Bravo Company - raised the 1,500 meters of relatively open ground to the second set of prepared positions at the rear. The German artillery battery supporting us was now giving the Soviets hell, scattering mines all around as well as smoke.

We finally made it to our new positions and began scanning for targets.

"Target tank!" this time by Mike.

"Identified!" Tony said.

"Fire!" I ordered.

BOOM! Another T-80 variant exploded.

WHAM! Our tank shook - this time much more than the 152mm round that hit us at the front - knocking out the TIS and stabilization.

"F*ck!" I said. Apparently, an ATGM hit us at the front. Thank God we had that additional armor up front.

"Got him! PC!" said Tony.

"KILL THE BASTARD!" I said.

BOOM! Another sabot round in the air, another BMP-3 killed.

"Sir, down to 10 silver bullets!" said Mike.

"Target tank!" called out Tony.

It was another Black Eagle, its gun pointed at one of our tanks down the line. Fire belched out of its main gun.

"Fire!" I ordered.

"On the way!"

BOOM! This time the round hit the enemy's turret's side, and the turret flew from the tank.

"Target PC, HEAT up!" I said, seeing a BMP-3 coming out of the smoke behind the now dead Black Eagle. A second BMP-3 was coming from behind.

The gun by that time had been loaded with a sabot round and the gunner pulled the trigger.

As the sabot flew straight and true at the first BMP-3, the autoloader loaded a HEAT round. The green LED lit up, and the gun was set to fire of a HEAT round.

"Target PC! Fire!"

"On the way!"

The HEAT round flew at an arc, hitting the BMP-3 on the top front, a massive fireball engulfing it. It was dead.

"They're pulling back!" someone on the radio net said. Our CO and XO were unusually silent at that moment. I told Jim to chase the Soviets. We left the safety of our positions, and as I unbuttoned and scanned the horizon for targets, I noticed the rest of the company following me.

The smoke was relatively thick, but the wind was on our side, and a few seconds later, the battlefield was clearer. I saw a T-95 in the distance.

"Target tank!"

"Identified!"

Jim put on the brakes because we still had no stabilization after that ATGM hit.

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

BOOM! The T-95 blew up. Another rocket barrage was launched by the Soviets trying to cover their withdrawal, and I quickly buttoned-up. Jim resumed driving the tank forward towards our original positions. We arrived at our original dug-out and since both TIS and CITV weren't working, I unbuttoned again and began scanning for targets.

There! Another T-95, jinking around to avoid getting hit.

"Target tank!" I said.

"Identified!" Tony replied three seconds later, having a hard time finding the small tank. He lased the target - 5,800 the indicator read.

"Fire!"

BOOM! Another Super Silver Bullet flew twice the speed of sound and - hit the ground behind the T-95 by a several meters.

"Under! Re-engage!"

"Sabot up!" said Mike, as the indicator lit up.

"Fire!"

This time the sabot hit the T-95's engine and it stopped. I saw the T-95's crew bail out but were soon cut up as the Germans continued filling the air with deadly shell fragments.

Then all was quiet.

"Sir, you want to know the range of that last tank we killed?" said Tony.

"How far?"

"6,100 meters. That has got to be a division record," said Tony.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Bravo Four, this is Bravo Five, that was a great shot, over," said Jack over the radio.

"10-4 Bravo Five, thanks."

"Be advised XO and CO are dead, over."

"What's that Jack?"

"Look to your rear."

I scanned the rear and true enough, our CO's and XO's tanks were burning - particularly the CO's which was burning fiercely. Them two, plus what looked like three other Thunderbolts, an M901, two M2A3 Bradleys, and 1 M113 - all in various stages of burning.

"Greg, this makes you our CO, am I right?" said Jack.

Then it hit me. CO dead. XO dead. That makes me the new CO.

"Yeah I guess so, for the meantime."

"Roger that," replied Jack.

From Forward Into Battle: Team Kelly and the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment by Col. Greg "Cowboy" Johnson (Ret.), published on 25 April 2025, New Dallas, Federal Republic of Texas.

Well, for my 500th post...

Lt. Black-Hawk was pissed. He got escort duty...ok. He got sent out as a single escort for the old man's "partner"...ok. But then he got talked into doing overwatch while the "very important person" went out to survey the local area. Now, no radio contact. Lt. Black-Hawk was pissed.

"Anderson, keep trying to reach them the battalion net as well...you never know what they are listening to." Pvt. Anderson kept speaking into the mouthpiece, keying his mike, but trying to be silent. They had already had a run in with a local and a RPG...a domestically produced AT-4 he thought. Thank God the crazies also seemed to have piss-poor aim. Still a shame the little bastard got away though. "Echo 3 to Echo 1, do you copy, over?"

The Lt looked around him at the terrain. It was a beautiful pine forest, excellent view, except for the fact that he could not see anything he wanted to...like his charge. What was with high-ranking officers? Seems like the more rank you got, the dumber you got...all those brains seeping into the brain-bucket or what? That dumb-ass colonel had to go looking on his own, in "Indian country" (now there was a phrase he got a chuckle out of) and leave the "man in charge" behind. He knew he had been hoodwinked.

"Anderson, you just keep trying, jump freq's to the artillery net if you have to, but keep trying. I'm going to take McKinney and Holt and go spy up..." The LT heard a sound that chilled his blood.

Just like the sound of a big zipper being ripped down...ZZZZZZZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPP! Only one thing within 100 miles made that noise...and it was attached to the vehicle carrying the colonel. That was the "zoo" firing in anger.

He heard the distinctive sound of the diesel coming through the woods, apparently at breakneck speed. Something had Guntruck 2 spooked.

"Anderson! You got them!?"

"Sorry LT, they are not responding!"

"Load up! Eyes up and out, and Jerry, get up in the turret to help the Sarge...I'm not going up just yet."

"Yes Sir!" The corporal climbed into the commanders chair and started looking through the sight. "What the hell is going on Sarge?" He wispered. "Dammit kid, if I knew that, we wouldn't be sitting here stupid, now would we? Keep your eyes open...could be damned near anything...although to spook GT2....Bob knows his SH#$...he will get out just fine, and give them hell to boot. Look, here comes the GT now."

Guntruck 2, the bastard mating of a HEMTT 10 ton truck and a ZSU-23-4 turret, came crashing out of a woodline about 1500 meters away. The 25mm chaingun on the M115A1 "Montana" (well, that was the nicest nicname the govt ever gave this rig) trained out just behind the GT, looking for what was following her. Patiently she waited, but nothing followed. The ZSU turret's quad 23mm cannon's kept roaring though...then it hit Cpl Jerry Sanchez...the "zoo" was not pointing back or to the sides...it was pointing...UP!

Well I'll be kid...got a pair of fast movers...tell the LT we are deep in the Sh#$! " Cpl Sanchez dropped out of his seat and squirmed past Pvt Anderson to get out the back...and to the LT.

"Sarge says fast movers sir...two."

"Yup, corporal, I see them now...2 of them. The GT just clipped 1, they are heading away now. Remount and tell the Sarge to keep an eye on the treeline where GT2 came out...just in case."

"Yes Sir!" Jerry squirmed his way back in.

"LT, we got GT2, Sir!"

"Yeah Anderson, well I can yell at them now. Get things buttoned up, we want to move out fast before any more surprises come along."

While the activity around the M115A1 (affectionately called "Detroit Miss") picked up rapidly, Guntruck 2 came rolling up for a quick stop next to the upgunned M113. The passenger door opened and a figure in russian Woodland cammo fatigue jumped down. He was wearing the rank of a colonel.

"Hello Leutenant. Seems we found what we thought was up here after all. General Halloran should be pleased that all we lost was some ammo and a radio mount. You will have to send in the report to him and tell him that we had to deal with 2 Mig-27's...and they had the markings of the Chinese People's Airforce." Colonel Fofanov snorted, turned, and looked into the distance where the two planes had gone out of sight. This was going to really complicate things.

(Hope you guys liked it! )

Jacques: You can stop right there at your last post already. Just right. :-) Going to incorporate it into the "master" document. Thanks and I liked it.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...............nothing like the smell of a T2K story in the morning!" :-) :-) :-)


Tread.

Hmmm - since Jacques posted his, here's the full two pages I excerpted for my two entries...

Alaska, March 2001

It only seemed like yesterday when Vladimir and his unit, along with the reconstituted elements of the valiant Soviet 6th Air Assault Division, assembled in the dark of night and crossed the Aleutian Strait – returning to the Seward Peninsula. Slipping on his outer jacket, Vlad stepped up and out of the large rear hatch, stretching fitfully. Since that time, Vladimir could count on one hand the nights he had slept peacefully.

After the triumphant action and seizure of the Chinese bridgeheads back in 1996, the 6th AAD was rushed in to spearhead the overall drive to invade the United States itself – a daring thrust to capture Fairbanks and Anchorage in Alaska and seize the US Strategic Oil Reserve. The Soviet penetration of the North American Mainland had always been a stated goal for his unit during the decade he had been in the Soviet Army. They had trained all their service life for this operation. They were ready. Where the Chinese put up a tough fight and were eventually defeated in 1996 – the Americans proved quite the opposite a scant year later.

The hatch groaned in protest as he sat on its inner surface. Alaska was a magnificent sight, Vladimir noted as he surveyed his surroundings. He scanned around, as much in appreciation for the rugged beauty as efforting to spot potential local sharpshooters. The cording for his headset/interphone tugged back at him gently. He nudged it aside and jostled the set of binoculars nearly frozen to his outer jacket. In the distance, 25 meters he gauged, an Arctic Hare sped off towards the North in a blur of white and grey fluff. A good meal Vlad thought as his hand inched towards his service pistol. He hesitated and pulled his gloved hand back up – deciding the weapon’s report indicating his vehicle and crew’s location to the ever-present American and Canadian snipers not worth the tasty treat.

Vlad stretched and groaned to exercise the Demon in his lower back. It was a viciously cold Alaskan morning - as cold as it was when they first airdropped onto the slopes outside Anchorage. The BMD was little, smelled bad, and frozen. The rubber skirts and deflection plates as rigid as steel and glinting in the morning dawn. A couple of years before, Vladimir would have thought this a glorious day to go into battle. After the tough American response and stalemate - he felt otherwise. Tired, cold, hungry, and close to mutiny - his men had to endure one more mission for the 6th Guards Airborne Division today.

The Americans finally got enough spares and reserves to get one of their LARS platoons up and running - and he and his comrades knew they were armed with tactical nuclear rockets. The locals were not subtle in their new found resistance. Damn them! They could not retreat - their hovercraft had all been knocked out by Canadian Special Forces - and the Americans were coming with only one thing in mind, he mused to himself silently taking a cup of bitter coffee (engine oil more like it) from his young conscript gunner...

Total Annihilation!

The Soviet 6th AAD’s thrust into Alaska was glorious. Vlad thought it would be remembered in history books – if someone ever sat down to write them again. An advanced hovercraft-borne force caught the Americans and Canadians by surprise with the swiftness of their advance and penetration. Not driving into the urban areas, classic Soviet tactic, they surged around and enveloped Fairbanks before the Americans could mount a credible resistance. As Vladimir put the burned and oft reheated coffee down on the upper hull of the BMD, he muttered an old Russian curse while he remembered those days. “When the Americans hit back, boy did they hit back…,” he muttered, blinking behind tanker’s goggles.

Though Soviet training and doctrine had prepared Vladimir and his comrades well for the expected and eventual employment of nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons against their enemies – they also got the impression that the American foes would be markedly hesitant to use the same. Soviet planners in his unit, in fact, planned to exploit this reluctance by seizing the advantage and employing these weapons as “shock force” in taking on the Americans - first. They though they’d achieve the chaos and rout that actually occurred in Poland that same year. Where the Americans retreated and never fully reconstituted their forces lost in Poland – the Alaskan defenders hit back in kind – nuclear – and even harder – fighting ferociously against the Soviet invading force. Inside of six months, Vlad and the remaining 6th AAD had been pushed back out of Fairbanks and eventually off the Seward Peninsula back to the Soviet Union. The American force was smaller, hungry, and ragged around the edges. So were his comrades.

Vladimir knew deep down inside there really was no home to go back to. When the 6th AAD redeployed to again attack Alaska, it was an “all-or-nothing” proposition, as he remembered hearing some famous actor saying on American television. He also knew that the American defenders holding onto Alaska were defending one of the last huge oil reserves left in the world – supremely critical to any US war effort – and interestingly not yet tapped by the US. They would die defending Alaska. Vlad shut the hatch closed behind him, squinting from snow blindness. The dank and depressing interior of the BMD reflected his mood as he frowned at the Driver – nicknamed “Tex” for no particular reason Vlad was aware of. He had always been “Tex”, for as long as Vladimir had known him. Funny, for a short and slightly built man in his mid-30’s, “Tex” hardly looked like a veteran of a nuclear battlefield and now a bitter and hardened soldier on the edge of abandoning his allegiance to the Soviet Union and becoming a marauder.

‘Was I one too…,’ Vladimir thought to ask himself as he watched his Driver begin to flip switches to bring his dependable BMD to life. On either side of them, the little BMD was crammed with 98% of its normal combat gear. They had been able to virtually reload and restock when they got pushed off the North American continent from strategic stores left in Manchuria. To either side of the interior, stored horizontally, were eight canisters with powerful anti-tank rockets. These weapons were more than capable of destroying the American M1 Abrams main battle tank. His and the other 30 BMD’s in the reconstituted 6th AAD were quite powerful.

Vlad had been driven, almost maniacal, in pursuit of their objectives since the warheads blossomed. He thought he died that day – and his Soul was trapped in Purgatory. This time around, he again was on a hunter-killer mission. The sole purpose for him and his crew being back on the frozen Alaskan ground was to seek out and destroy the American nuclear response capability. His Intel had spotted at least two operating and believed combat ready M948 LARS vehicles in the Fairbanks Theatre. He met this news initially with stupor and disbelief. He thought that most of the tactical weapons had been destroyed. Photographs and ever-increasing boasts from the Locals changed his mind. So changed his demeanor. He knew there would be no going home – home was here in Alaska’s wasteland.

As Vladimir sat down, he wondered what his crew thought of him in the dark confines of their fears. What did he look like to them? Shrugging the thick outer jacket across his shoulders, shuddering, he could still hear the “bong” and heart-stopping roar of wind as the first of several American nuclear warheads went off during the first Battle of Alaska back in 1997…

He soon feared their terrible countenance would again scorch the Alaskan wilderness…

Nestled in a rugged dale surrounded on three sides by snow capped rock outcroppings, three American M948 LARS (Light Artillery Rocket Launcher – dubbed “MLRS Junior” or “’Lil Satan”) sat in readiness. Tactically, it was a poor position – with only one escape if discovered and assaulted by the Soviet Airborne Forces. But, in the Hull Defilade position, these small rocket launchers could get off the first and second volley from relative defensive cover. Lieutenant Dan Borrelli snapped the cover for his GPS receiver closed and stepped down from his LARS. He felt confident that those two volleys were all they needed when called into action against the main body of Soviet Airborne Forces huddled 35 clicks downrange and past the wind whipped gale hovering between the opposed forces.

Out there, Borrelli knew that special forces units would be looking to kill his two LARS platoons. He had strategically placed the remaining three LARS several miles away – thinking – hoping – that if his position was discovered – they’d be able to finish the job. Several years earlier, he encountered some crack Soviet Airborne troops in BMD’s that made life pretty tough for the Americans in the first Battle of Alaska. For the first time in what seemed a Century, Intel was right on the money when they reported the return of the Soviet 6th AAD to Alaska. He hoped to draw them back into a rematch. It was personal.

“Did you get our Man?” Borrelli breathed out steam as he rounded the front corner of the LARS.

“Yep Boss – he’s heading out!” Staff Sergeant “RR” Weimer replied jauntily. “RR” was always smiling and poking fun – even in the worst of times. Borrelli thought highly of the mechanic, cum Driver and Marksman, so much so that he often caught himself losing proper military bearing and discipline with the enlisted man some 10 years his senior. “RR” made a skating motion sliding one hand over the other palm in an exaggerated manner, shaking loose some of the snow piled up on his broad shoulders. Sleet crackled underneath his boots as he twisted his body in an awkward motion – like an abbreviated golf swing. Borrelli smiled behind the lower flap of his parka hood at the comic.

“You know Boss; we could have used that hare for chow…”

“I feel you Rick – but I was hoping to snare a larger beast…”

Good stuff Gunnie...and no worries, I gots more coming...sorry Gennady, I just write my books a few paragraphs at a time!

GunTruck: Good one! Will review it further and incorporate it to the master document.

Jacques: No problem. Your last post was quite sufficient already for the master document.

EDIT: DOH! I forgot Jacques, that you built several other subjects for this campaign. Please continue writing the stories, but for your guntruck and M115, it's okay already. Thanks.

GOOD NEWS! Making GREAT progress with the storyline for this campaign. I'm in the process of incorporating both Jacques' and GunTruck's story posts to the master document, and I'll be incorporating Jaster's submission (plus his journal entry in the campaign journal) tomorrow.

If all goes according to plan, the "book" for TW2K:03 will be done mid-January of first week of February - complete with Photoshop'd pix (say, putting the LARS in a winter scene at Alaska) to depict "events as it happened." Yep, ambitious but I won't be working alone (will need someone who's good at editing pix with Photoshop - I'm also mulling a formation of a 'review committee' to check the final draft before "online publication.") That, plus a little sneak preview...

BTW, here's a caption from the 'Foreword' of the master document. Do take note on the emphasis supplied:

"The writing style was greatly influence by General Sir John Hackett’s “August 1985: The Third World War.” Each story submitted by each campaign member becomes a window on what happened during various times and localities of what was known eventually as “The Twilight War.” Each story is quoted into the master document either as a direct interview or quoted from a news article or from a "previously published book" that was "published in the early first two decades after 2000AD. This tale starts on why the war started, to the conventional conflict that erupted in Europe then spread to CONUS with the PRC/Soviet invasion of Alaska, to NATO’s counter-offensive culminating in the defeat at Kalisz and the ensuing nuclear exchange, and finally to the New World Order."