Journal #1 - Private Jacob Allen, Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armored Division June 17, 2985 This is my first time in combat since boot, and things have drastically changed. I was trained to be a grenadier in one of the anti-amour divisions, but a shortage of soldiers has had me moved to one of the airborne armored divisions. So far, its hell. I had a brief lesson on how to react encase of an emergency drop, and now my tank is in a plane some hundred feet above the ground. Were supposed to land near a Brenodi outpost, but only if the ground team can clear the AA crews. The worst scenario were looking at is a hard drop just under MACH 1, at fifty feet during a crash. I just hope I survive. Private Jacob Allen, Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armored Division
Journal #2 - Private Jacob Allen, Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armored Division June 18, 2985 Today was hell, nearly everything hit the fan. We lost most of our platoon in the drop, and the ground force responsible for taking out the AA's was wiped out. At 1500 hours we found out. The wing commander of the transports carrying us got a distress call from the ground team, heard an explosion over the comm, then it went dead. Soon after, we were under heavy AA fire. Since there was no chance of a safe drop at one-hundred feet, the formation was ordered down to twenty-five feet for a hard drop. This is what I feared the most. Hard drop. It literally means hard drop. All the tanks have a parachute on the back. We just have to release it, and it pulls us right out of the transport bay. As soon as were out of the transport bay, its free fall. Tanks aren't exactly built for freefall. We all scrambled to our tanks, and waited for the order. Five minutes? Ten minutes? I lost count. I later found out it was only about one minute. We got the order, released the chutes, and were hulled out of the transport bay. In seconds the tank was in free fall. These things are heavy, the largest tank in the Jekotian arsenal. Only thing that made me happy was the thought that the Brenodi would be clueless. It's not everyday that a tank platoon falls from the sky, leaving craters everywhere. That happiness soon disappeared. Even though it was a twenty-five foot drop, it was fast. I guess a one-hundred ton tank falls fast. My tank hit hard, crushing an AA gun that was trying to tear through the bottom armor. I broke my left arm in the fall, cracked it hard on something. Thank god for the standard military bio-engineering, it would only be broken for a day or two. I heard countless impacts as the rest of the tanks from my wing hit, then a gut wrenching explosion. One of them landed outside the drop zone, in a mine field. Then hell really broke loose. My tank needed time to get going after the fall. I didn't have time. In fact, I had needed time; the engine was too hot to move the tank. I put it out of my mind, got into the control seat, and look around. It was chaos. No, that's an understatement. With the tanks falling from the sky, it looked like Armageddon. Among it all, stood a lone Brenodi tank. Then another, and another. They were waiting, the whole time, in concealed bunkers. I screamed and hit the throttle. I had to move, they knew it too. I keyed the comm and alerted my platoon. In moments we had regrouped and engaged the enemy. It was a hell hole. The Brenodi tanks were half the size of ours, exploding into fire storms of shrapnel when destroyed, blinding us while their comrades shot through the debris. I don't know how long we fought. Minutes? Hours? It was nonstop explosions, nonstop chaos. There was debris everywhere, couldn't tell friend from foe. Then things got the worst they could. The transports started crashing. We were stranded in a hostile war zone, with no chance of rescue. Were going to be stuck here for days, weeks, maybe even months. We were able to salvage enough munitions from the Brenodi wreckage to restock the tanks, but were stuck. Private Jacob Allen, Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armored Division
Journal #3 - Private Jacob Allen, Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armored Division June 25, 2985 Its been a week since I've had time to write a journal, and its making me insane. This is the only thing that lets me get my thoughts down and maintains my sanity. We succeeded at our mission, thank God, managed to take out the weapons lab that was supplying this region with biological weapons. Unfortunately our intel was wrong. We were informed by spies that the biological materials were safely sealed and posed no threat, but as soon as we destroyed the facility there was a pressure wave carrying hell-knows-what. We lost five men to it, and six tanks are too contaminated to even go near. We spent the next few days slowly heading back toward our main base for this region, positioned far up north. We get to stop at night to make repairs to the tanks and sleep, but its pretty restless. Everyone is hungry as we didn't bring enough provisions for an extended operation, and theres still no contact on the radio. The entire platoon is paranoid now, we've been ambushed twice, and cant take much more. At this rate there going to find us in the night and carpet bomb us. Our CO says theres no threat of that since were so far north that a carpet bombing would create havoc on the coastal Brenodi cities. Why did I sign up for this shit? Oh, wait, I didn't. When I get back home, I'm killing my draft officer. Private Jacob Allen, Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armored Division
great story, like it, i feel for poor Jacob............. oh an this gives me an Idea for maps, your mention of destroying the bio-labs could be implemented on shall we say Emp-Slaughtered, the two towers are entrances to bio facilities and when captured they enable bio weapons. If destroyed the de-activte bio-weapons etc... This could be implemented on maps like SOF whereby certain buildings if captured enable tech , lets say youve equiped your tank with UML but the enemy captures/destroys a certain building then you wouldnt receive the ammo for that tank so couldnt fire your UML's ? anyways Ill post some thoughts in the suggestions, nice story.........
I know i've said it before, but this is what is needed, personal accounts to pad out the story. Although I have to say when I previously read it I thought it was from a Bren viewpoint rather than a Jekotian's.
this is actually really good... no bull. I didn't expect much when i saw the size of the first post but really this is how I expect life to be like... crazy, painful and fast paced. and scary.
Yeah, I like this too, sort of light but interesting, fast paced, and fun. You want to post in the offical story?
nah, I suck at tying things in. I could never adapt it to fit and flow. I get can-no-longer-write-for-shit-block if I have guidelines for stories :'( I need to be able to write freely to make anything good. Its a gift and a curse.
I don't think Don actually wants you to tie it in, just askin' if ye want to have it in the same thread..make ya part of t3h official crew so 'ta spake. Do any of you get that thing where you need to find the right music to be able to write in any sort of quality :confused:
i was told to just pick a year in the IRC Edit: gonna be some time before the next journal, having a hard time getting into my story creating mindset, and being on the school play's crew is eating alot of my time.
Journal #4 - Private Jacob Allen, Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armored Division June 27, 2985 I don’t know how many times I’ve said it, but thank god for engineers and their ‘magical calculators.’ As an AP shell tore through my left armor breaching the hull, I turned my tank to present the right side to the enemy, and an engineer started repairing my armor on the left. Poor bastard got blown away by a HE shell half-way though the repairs. Seconds later the platoon’s weapons specialist Brian Aslakov calls over the com, “High Cherenkov radiation levels from the tank I just marked, it’s got a fission reactor, keep your distance!” As soon as I heard that, the only thing on my mind was ‘shit. This complicates things.’ If a single round breaches the reactor, anything within a five meter radius will be decimated. I rotate my turret to face the marked tank and see it’s an Imperial Heavy tank. Three other friendly tank turn to this threat, two of them light armor, one a modified medium tank with an armor piercing auto-cannon. All four of us open fire, careful to avoid the engine compartment. Me being the biggest threat, the tank turns to face me and opens fire with a rail-gun, tearing off three inches of frontal armor. Brian Aslakov in the modified medium tank opens fire with his auto-cannon, and accidentally pierces the enemies’ reactor. I curse over the com and yell for everyone to get back. Then the real surprise comes. The breached tank starts venting gas. I realize Brian screwed up his Cherenkov radiation readings. It didn’t have a fission reactor. Before the tank blossoms into a fire ball, it fires a nuclear warhead at our communication array, consuming two light tanks, a medium tank, and our supply jeep. We lost six good men in that skirmish, can no longer contact any allies, and one-hundred pounds of munitions exploded creating the largest ‘hit me’ sign in this entire region. For the first time in my life I find myself praying to the gods to see us safely through this. We can’t last much longer. If we’re lucky a friendly MAC saw the explosion and will investigate. If we’re unlucky? An enemy MAC is already preparing for saturation bombing. As we prepare for another night of restless sleep, I remember what an old friend used to say, “When in doubt, shoot. When cornered, take them to hell with you. When without hope, run.” It was an age old phrase meaning shoot when it doubt, detonate your munitions to take them to hell with you, and live to fight another day if you cant win. Private Jacob Allen, Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armored Division
Your mention of "magical calculators" in the first sentence almost made me read that post (I skip over all the long posts of story, as story doesn't interest me (not in a written form, anway))
the whole point of this is a first person account of the hell war is. its going to be morbid. suck it up or you may be used for cover in the next journal
Journal #5 - Private Jacob Allen of the Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armoured Division November 12th, 2989 This will be my final journal. Everything after this day is classified and we are to create no record of it. Our numbers are dwindling and our strength weakening, but it doesn’t matter anymore. We reached one of our hidden arctic outposts and radioed command. Turns out they thought we were dead. Apparently the Imperials thought the same. This means we have an armoured division in the arctic, equipped for arctic warfare, which the Imperials don’t know about. Perfect. An entirely new operation is being built around this advantage; Arctic Tundra. As of tomorrow, we officially no longer exist. Over the coming days we’re going to rest up in the safety of the outpost, while supplies and reinforcements get dropped in. High altitude stealth bombers are going to be retrofitted for troop and supply deployment and fly in high over radar range to drop crates and troops. An entire special-forces division is dropping in, roughly forty men and women. A para-insertion at that altitude? I feel sorry for the poor bastards. Very, very cold. And the suits to counter that cold are very uncomfortable. Plus, if enough moisture condenses in their chute packs and freezes, they’re as good as dead. They’ll be accompanied by an eighty crate drop of fuel, munitions, weapons, provisions, arctic survival gear, parts for the vehicles, and anything else command can spare. We’re going to hit Glycen like it’s never been hit before, and the Imperials won’t have a clue till we’re pushing armour through their defences. My only real concern is the so-called White Knight, some sort of Imperial weapons system built for arctic warfare. If even half the stories are true, this thing could tear us apart. But, I prefer to ignore war stories and focus on intel. And according to intel, it doesn’t exist. Private Jacob Allen, Jekotian 83rd Airborne Armoured Division Continued in Arctic Tundra
