Empire of Anvegad Mureneheldt Front Prince Ozo's Artillery Artillery Position Bravo "AND MAY TEN THOUSAND RABID DOGS TEAR THE DISEASED ASSHOLE WHO FUCKING DESIGNED THESE GUNS!" Finished cursing the artillerist as he gave a final resounding kick against the gun assembly of the wrecked heavy howitzer that had unceremoniously suffered a shell cook-off just an hour ago. The blood stains of the crew that had lost life and limb manning the gun were still evident as the sole intact survivor of the gun crew began a new line of curses in front of the pair of officers that were conducting an inspection of the artillery position. "As you can see sir the new artillerypieces are less than satisfactory." Translated the lieutenant standing by Major Mannheim. "We're barely a month into this campaign and we're down half a Grand Battery from shell cook-offs, recoil compensatory malfunctions, rangefinder breakages, and poorly manufactured shells. Captain Lente ordered another seven pulled off the line for intensive inspection. "Any clues why?" Inquired the major, idly listening to the latest string of profanity out of the artillerist. Quite an impressive vocabulary really. "By the nature of the string of events and the lack of enemy artillery, I presume its on our side of things." "As far as we can tell, all the bad parts came from the Clovis Armory. No telling for certain if that is the case in all incidences, but-" "But its a start. I'll put a investigation order in." The major sighed. The artillery corps always had a history of dealing with unreliable guns dating back to the age of smooth-bore muzzle loaders. The modern industrial age was supposed to put an end to that, yet here they were again. "At least all the heirloom pieces are still functional." "The way the men worship their assigned guns? They discipline eachother for not taking cannon maintenance seriously, sir. If there are any future problems, it won't be because our gunners are slacking off." "Good to hear, because we're pushing forward." The major said, turning to light a cigarette and think on how this was going to affect the battlegroup's next moves. "We're marching on the capital and we're going to need every gun piece we got if they decide to put up a fight even after all the prisoners we took." "Aye sir. What ammo order should I tell the men to bring? Are we expecting trench or urban fighting?" "Light field guns are covering the trenches. Siege pieces are to carry incendiaries and high-explosive, leave the shrapnel, as much as possible. If the Mundies don't heed our three offers to surrender, Prince Ozo's artillery is to start hammering them until they start begging. The formal briefing will be tomorrow morning, but in light of these damn malfunctions I figured some advance notice was in order." "Yes sir. Thank you sir." The lieutenant visibly hesitated for a moment before deciding to speak his mind. "You think it will come to that, sir? Shelling civilians?" "I hope to hell not. The fact that these Mundies surrendered instead of fighting to the death means they arn't die-hards, and we honestly don't have anything personal against these people. But we don't make empty threats either, understood lieutenant?" "Yes sir. I understand completely sir." "Good. Now do something about that man. I think he's going to run out of air at that rate of profanity. Pity to lose such a strong-armed gunner because of some industrialist's incompetence. Now, onto the matter of these ranging issues we're having-" * * * * * * * * House of Sovereigns Army Communications Center "Promises of conquest unfulfilled? I honestly can't believe we still have reporters still writing this garbage." Chairman Volkov grumbled as he perused a copy of a newspaper that had been struck down by the military press censors. Something of a guilty hobby of his, but also an exercise in understanding how the more dissident elements of society were thinking. A Chairman in his position had to keep an open perspective of things afterall, and it made a good way to kill time before he spoke to the Operations commanders about some updates to the political objectives (namely discussing measures on how to repurpose Murenheldt and Luckland assets they had scouted out thus far) and context to their operations once the lines were cleared. "I know the public isn't aware of the exact nature of our military deployments, but expecting conquest the exact minute of declaration of war? When did this start?" "Probably when Volvakov keeps stalling on getting his damn army on the move to Luckland." Grumbled General Kislev as he paced the room filled with telephone and switchboard operators. "Damnation, the invasion was supposed to kick off a week ago. We were mobilized months ago. How the hell is he held up now? Alert me the minute you get a signal through!" "It may actually be to our benefit he's held up." Commented Volkov, flipping to the page of comic sections that had been banned for various reasons. At least the quality of slanderous artists was rising, even if their messages were certainly blocked for good reason. "It would give Luckland more time to concentrate it's forces. Enable us to....what was the military phrase? Defeat in completion?" "Er, something close mister Chairman. It would be useful in ensuring there arn't troops left behind to have to mop up in garrison and pacification actions, but there is such a thing as giving the enemy too much time to prepare." "Of course. Of course." Volkov flipped through a few more pages, frowned at a particularly bad slide and briefly mused on the political pros and cons of starting to execute bad reporters again, and looked up once more at the large board depicting military movements. So far so good on the Murenheldt front, and Deltora was too busy with Survaek to bother raising trouble with Harkevich and the border legions. Everything was going almost too good besides the stalling of the Luckland invasion. He honestly wasn't sure how to feel at that. Hesistancy cost them the colonies in Faresia, yet the costs of over-ambition were well shown in many previous wars. But for now, aggression would rule. "Chairman, General. The lines are open. General Volvakov and Paragnosky are on lines two and seven." "Very well. Put them both through." The Chairman tossed the banned newspaper to one of his guards for immediate burning as he sat down at the phone table. Back to work, back to conquering nations.