To say that Frederick felt nervous would have an a colossal understatement. He had been nervous when he proposed to his fiancee, or when he had asked her father for her hand in marriage. He had been nervous the first time he kissed a girl and the first time he had ridden a horse. No, this was not nervousness, this was fear.
For three days now the 6th Dragoons had been riding Northeast along the main coach road, all the world drowned out by the noise of thousands of steel shod hooves clattering on the flagstone. They could not see the enemy, nor smell him, but they could hear him. The occasional "boom" of a distant cannon told them all that the war was still on. Rumours circulating throughout the regiment had been confirmed by the Lieutenant that morning, Imperial troops were trying to force the bridge at Darmstadt. The town had a sizeable garrison, a narrow bridge, and steep river banks to protect it. It was no place for cavalry.
Instead, in a cloud of dust, a trooper from the 3rd Dragoons had arrived that morning with orders for the 6th to begin riding north. They were ordered to parallel the river, in an effort to find another crossing and perhaps turn the enemy flank, or the very least relieve the pressure on the garrison at Darmstadt.
"Sergeant Hecht!" He was startled out of his thought by the crashing bark of Captain Kraus who was cantering along the column toward them. Like the rest of the regiment he already looked woebegone, the green dye having run into his white pants, and the cheap metal helmet showed signs of damage already.
"Sir!" Hecht identified himself, raising a hand unnecessarily, almost like a school boy in class when the teacher called his name. He jerked his hand down quickly; the Captain ignored the motion.
"Take your Squadron and relieve Sergeant Paulsen, he has C Squadron scouting ahead of this mess." He gestured to the mismatched trail behind them. Mess was being generous, the two infantry regiments that had come with them were more a series of gaggles strung out along the roadway. The only two nine pounder guns that could be spared were being towed even further back by lame looking oxen that out likely not even make good eating. What a way to ride to war.
"Yes sir." It was all he could say as he turned his horse off the road and into the rolling green grass that made this particular part of the country an absolute cavalry paradise. In truth he was happy to be here, and even more so now that he was off the road. Yes, he was afraid, but a small part of him could not ignore the grand adventure he was now on. "D Squadron, with me!"
The men and women of his small command swung their own mounts off the road and followed him into the long grass. He could hear more than a few sighs of relief. Riding on flagstone tended to jar your back at the best of times.
They rode in silence for the next several minutes, two thin lines of horsemen on the massive expanse of green. Other squadrons watched them go with something akin to jealousy. The whole regiment wanted to be riding in search of the enemy but spare mounts were scarce and the Colonel had forbidden any free range riding. There was always some infantryman who would like to fill a saddle, but horses to mount them on were almost as rare as good cannon.
It did not take them long to reach the head of the column and Hecht quickly spotted Sergeant Paulsen, a dour looking older man with a head of grey hair, drooping moustache and runny nose. He commanded the current scouts and cast a disgusted eye over the troopers who rode behind Hecht.
"How the hell we're expected to win a war with this..." He jutted his chin toward the line of horsemen, Hecht strongly suspected Paulsen meant the female troopers who were quite evidently a woman beneath her helmet. "I will never know."
"Well, we can't all be possessed of the wisdom of old age, yet." Hecht retorted, blushing slightly as he heard someone snigger behind him. "You are relieved." He continued before the older Sergeant could reply.
Paulsen gave him a glare that could have killed before violently wrenching his horses around so violently that it squealed in pain, shouting at his own squadron to follow him. A few of them offered waves as they rode by, but the majority just looked tired.
"Right, up to us then. Welser, Schuster, Ulmer, you're up front. The rest of you fan out on either side of the roadway. Stay within eyesight of each other. We're looking for a ford, which means we need to get to the river. If you run into trouble, don't play hero, get back here and we'll deal with it."
There was a smattering of "Yes Sergeant" and the Squadron broke up, riding ahead of the column, hooves now sinking slightly into the fresh earth. This truly was the breadbasket of empire. There was little cover for anyone among the rolling hills, though dead ground was all around. Ahead, Hecht was not quite sure how far, was the river. Here the road would turn North and continue to match the river but at a distance to great to spot any useful ford. They would be forced to leave the roadway.
A thick band of trees, now only a dark green smear on the edge of the brighter green hills, marked the river itself. Smoke could be seen some ways further north, likely the sight of a village, and villages sometimes meant river crossings.
Hecht checked his sabre to make sure it was loose in the scabbard, tugged out his carbine and ensured it was loaded, and then rode forward along the verge of the roadway. Trooper Sperber, trumpet thumping into his thigh, rode close behind.
Argentine president Hipólito Yrigoyen wins the election of 1928, promising extensive reforms to labor rights. His victory agitates the fractured conservative factions in Argentina, who begin plotting to overthrow his presidency for the first time since the Argentine Constitution of 1853.
In 1930, a military coup, supported by the Argentine Patriotic League, forced Hipólito Yrigoyen from power, and replaced him with José Félix Uriburu. Support for the coup was bolstered by the sagging Argentine economy, as well as a string of bomb attacks and shootings involving radical anarchists, which alienated moderate elements of Argentine society and angered the conservative right, which had long been agitating for decisive action by the military forces.
During his brief tenure as president, Uriburu cracked down heavily on anarchists and other far-left groups, resulting in 2,000 executions of members of anarchist and communist groups. The most famous (and perhaps most symbolic of anarchism's decay in Argentina at the time) was the execution of Severino Di Giovanni, who was captured in late January 1931 and executed on the first of February of the same year.
On March 30, 1931, Uriburu was assassinated by an anarchist gunman while enjoying a glass of wine along the boulevard in Buenos Aires. Several bombings in the following days killed multiple politicians and military leaders, leaving the country temporarily leaderless as anarchists declared a New Republic. Many Argentines failed to take the declaration seriously and street fighting between various factions broke out across Buenos Aires. Sensing weakness in its neighbour, Chile moved to seize the disputed Picton, Lennox and Nueva islands in the far south and quickly overran the demoralized local garrison.
A collection of military officers, led by Admiral José Luis Villán, moved to reassert control over the country as things began to spiral out of control. Military checkpoints were setup at strategic points and Buenos Aires essentially placed under siege by the armed forces. The countryside, largely oblivious to the goings on the if the city-folk carried on as they might normally do.
Several weeks of street fighting ended with over a thousand dead and the military firmly in charge of the country with Villán at the helm. A number of anarchists were arrested and exiled, most of them to Chile.
From 1932 to 1942 Villán steered the country deftly through crisis after crisis. Argentina fought a brief war with Chile, retaking the disputed island in the south, and purchased the Falklands from a cash strapped and fading British Empire. In 1941 the Galapagos Islands were purchased from Ecuador, under the noses of an interested Chile, allowing Argentina to spread its influence into the southern Pacific. During this time he strengthened ties with Spain and modernized the countries military.
Tensions continued to climb with Chile as the anarchists exiled during the 1931 coup began to rebuild their support in Argentina with the quiet support of the Chilean government. In 1944 Chile and Paraguay announced an mutual military aid pact and made not secret of their ambition to curtail Argentine power in South America.
1946 saw several Brazilian ministers who had showed sympathy for the Chilean-Paraguayan Alliance were assassinated during this period and Argentina found itself at the brink of war with virtually all of its neighbours.
To ease tensions, Villán stepped down as President in 1947, a position he had never been elected to in the first place, and was replaced by Miguel Juárez Celman who began to try and mend relationships with neighbours. For two years there was a marked decrease in tensions throughout the region as Celman sought to strengthen diplomatic ties and economic relationships.
All the hopes for a peaceful future were dashed in 1950 when Celman was killed by a roadside bomb, along with a dozen Argentine civilians. Links between the bomber, anarchists, and Chilean intelligence, led to a savage response from Argentines. The Chilean embassy burned even as shots were fired over the border.
The small-arms fire turned into artillery shells, and before anyone could really put a stop to it, planes were pounding positions on either side of the border. Paraguay and Chile declared war on Argentina in the fall of 1951. Brazil declared neutrality even as troubles festered within her own borders.
Fierce fighting broke out along the border, ultimately an opportunity for the Argentine to flex their relatively small but increasingly modern and well trained military. Fighter bombers, acquired from Spain, hammered Paraguayan forces even as light armour and mechanized infantry pushed aside any real resistance. Chilean forces failed to provide any of the promised support for their allies and in 1953 Paraguay surrendered after nearly a third of the population had been killed.
By the end of 1954, Argentine paratroops, in conjunction with Naval elements, captured the city of Puerto Montt, effectively severing southern Chile from the rest of the country. A few isolated garrisons would surrender in early 1955 and Argentina would consolidate all of Chile south of Puerto Montt.
The war with Chile drags on, and tensions with the Empire of Brazil continue to increase around Uruguay and the extensive shared border. As Brazil sits poised to find its way in the world, Argentina will stop at nothing at ensure her own place as South Americas dominant nation.
IMPORTANT CHARACTERS: President General Dictator for Life Hipólito Yrigoyen Current leader of Argentina. An uncompromising political genius, he has been making large steps to neuter the popular military class by replacing key members with his own people. Not one to waste much time on the common citizen, he has however done what he can to prevent unrest, suggesting he is smarter than his enemies give him credit for.
Colonel Pedro Brieger Spymaster and head of the Argentine Secret Police, he is a staunch loyalist to the president. As brilliant as his employer, and far less forgiving, he has built his organization into a continent spanning entity that controls the fate of people far beyond the borders of his homeland.
Lieutenant Osvaldo Soriano A military doctor who considers Ernesto Guevara among his friends. A decent young man with dreams of a political future in Argentina. Currently dating a Journalist by the name of María Laura Santillán.
María Laura Santillán One of the few female Journalists in Argentina. She works for a major paper on the Old Folks beat, a less than glamorous assignment. She began seeing Osvaldo Soriano with dreams of finding a major scoop inside military circles; she had gotten far more than she bargained for. - Sister of Sergeant Menem Santillán
Lieutenant Roberto Alemann Son of a career army man, Roberto has begun to resent the political interference of the President on the military and his attempts to draw them into inter-issues. Close friends with Francisco de le Cal Delgado, he shares a glorious vision of Argentinas future and is willing to die to accomplish it.
Lieutenant Mariano Moreno Army pilot, ladies man, devout Catholic, and champion of Argentinas military rugby league, this man is a force to be reckoned with. Wildly popular with pretty much anyone who meets him, he has built a broad friend circle across the military. United in a vision of Argentinas future, free of political dictatorship, he is faithful to friends and dangerous to his enemies.
Lieutenant Francisco De Le Cal Delgado A relatively unknown Naval officer until recently, Francisco is born to a Spanish mother and Argentine father. His friends are in Spanish military circles, a place he first learned his trade. Well aware of Spains current and past glories, he sees no reason why Argentina cannot have its own and will do whatever it takes to help bring Argentina into the modern age.
Sergeant Menem Santillán Serving in the Chilean Campaign, the young Sergeant serves under the command of Lieutenant Fernando Niembro, an artillery officer who is just getting the hang of his trade. Estranged from his parents, but devoted to his sister, he wants nothing more than for the war to end so he can return home. - Brother of María Laura Santillán
Lieutenant Fernando Niembro A Forward Observation Officer for the artillery, Fernando is a passably handsome man, a terrible cook, but an outstanding officer. Well liked by the men under his command, indeed by all he meets, he has been in the Chilean campaign from the beginning and intends to bring as many of his countrymen home alive as possible.
Commodore Teodoro E. López Calderón Commander of the Galapagos Naval Squadron, Calderón has served in the Navy for nearly thirty years. Once a friend of the President-General, the two men no longer see eye to eye and Calderón has been sent somewhere far away where he can do little harm. Keen to return home, he is adverse to risks that might mar his command and give his enemies an excuse to have him removed in disgrace.
SAINT KITTS AND NEVIS
A Spanish expedition under Christopher Columbus arrived and claimed the island for Spain in 1493.
The first English colony was established in 1623, followed by a French colony in 1625. The English and French briefly united to massacre the local Kalinago, and then partitioned the island, with the English colonists in the middle and the French on either end. In 1629, a Spanish force sent to clear the islands of foreign settlement seized St. Kitts. The English settlement was rebuilt following the 1630 peace between England and Spain.
The island alternated repeatedly between English (then British) and French control during the 17th and 18th centuries, as one power took the whole island, only to have it switch hands due to treaties or military action. Parts of the island were heavily fortified.
Since 1783, Saint Kitts has been affiliated with the Kingdom of Great Britain, which became the United Kingdom. During the Great War, the region remained loyal to the British Crown and served as a coaling station for allied warships, as well as a place of rest and relaxation for injured soldiers.
When the war ended little had changed for the Caribbean paradise save its newly cemented status as a travel destination for those seeking some peace and quiet. In recent years, however, troubles have begun to appears as various forces make their intentions in the Caribbean clear. With the British government largely seeking to stem inflation and raging debt, the Island nation increasingly finds itself having to deal with matters once dealt with by Whitehall.
Rumours of Mexican, American, and even Argentinean agents, are rife and the government knows it needs to take steps to secure its future lest they pass from one master to another.
IMPORTANT CHARACTERS: Inspector Runako Morton The man in charge of the St Kitts Detachment of the Royal St Christopher and Nevis Police Force ("RSCNPF"), Morton is a burly Rugby player who has called the island home his entire life. The descendant of slaves brought to work the sugar plantations, he dearly loves his home and would do anything to protect it.
POST CATALOGUE
* Argentina * St Kitts and Nevis *
1. Battle of the Caribbean (A fiasco of epic proportions pits American and Argentine warships against each other.) 2. Revolution: Part I (Young revolutionaries realize their drinking conversation is deadly serious.) 3. Tales from the Front: Part I (An artillery officer serving in Chile brings the rain.) 4. Revolution: Part II (The lover of a would-be revolutionary becomes a pawn in the political future of Argentina.) 5. The Pacific: Part I (The Galapagos Squadron returns home.) 6. The New Man: Part I (A new Staff-Sergeant is due to arrive on the island and his superior wonders what the future holds.) 7. Tales from the Front: Part II (Argentine forces advance through the ruins of Osorno.) 7. Money talks (Argentine business interests are in danger in the Dominican. )
"Mr Rookwood, a good day to you sir." The Cost Guard officer was polite enough as his launch ran alongside the Chloe. His words were somewhat undercut by the four sailors who backed him with assault rifles, the heavily armed cutter beyond them. "Any luck today?"
"Morning, sir." Rookwood was equally polite. He kept his hands where they were easily visible and noted Blackthrone doing the same. "Just getting started."
They had indeed left the jetty late that morning after arguing about whether or not working on small-arms with Mrs Hawkins was a fine idea. They still hadn't hashed it out. The morning was fine, a stiff breeze from the Atlantic kept things cool, and they were en-route to do some actual fishing. Nets were carefully laid out on the deck and big windlass was freshly oiled.
"Bit late to get started, isn't it?" The two boats gently bumped into each other and lines were thrown over the cleats fore and aft of the main cabin to be quickly secured by sailors watchful for any trouble. "Permission to come aboard?"
Rookwood appreciated the request, knowing full well he had no choice but to accept and he nodded quickly. "Of course, please." He stepped back as the young officer scrambled nimbly onto the deck, closely followed by two sailors. Beyond them Rookwood caught sight of another man, half hidden in the boats cabin, watching them carefully. He wore no uniform, only sunglasses, a simple black t-shirt and blue jeans. Alarm bells began to sound in Rookwoods head.
"Take a quick look boys." The officer waited patiently with Rookwood and Blackthorne as the sailors made their way below. They were back quickly, far to quickly to have done a proper search. Quick nods to the officer as they clambered back into the launch. The nondescript man detached himself from the shadow of the cabin and leapt the gap with ease, landing like a panther on the deck. Muscles rippled along his back and shoulders. Rookwood felt his unease grow. The man wore no badge, not even a pistol, and Rookwood doubted even the Coast Guard crew knew who he worked for.
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Fend off. If they try to take off, well," White teeth flashed in a tan face. "You know what to do."
The officer nodded quickly. Did Rookwood detect unease in his face as well? There was a short pause as the officer returned to his launch, the lines were detached, and the boat drew away to a respectful distance leaving Rookwood and Blackthorne alone with their unknown guest.
"Commander Rookwood, Captain Blackthrone, how nice to finally make your acquaintance." He sat back against the gunwale and looked the two men over. "My name is John Smith. I represent the United Government and I think we should talk."
Rookwood and Blackthorne glanced at each other and then back at Smith. The man wasn't smiling. He was completely at ease, his eyes were invisible behind the sunglasses he wore. Around them the sea was entirely empty save for the Coast Guard Cutter almost a mile away. They were utterly alone.
"We're listening." Rookwood grunted, trying to fight down the fear rising in his gut. They had played a dangerous game and it seemed that the Feds were not as blind as he had thought they were.
"Let's not fuck around," Smith said, pulling off his sunglasses to reveal eyes so brown they were almost black. "You're running rum for Hawkins and her crew. Thats a felony, a rather serious one, which I have to admit, I find ridiculous. But no one gives a shit what I think about booze. They do, however, give a shit about what I can do to help sort out some of the filth infesting Mississippi these days."
He spoke the words casually but Rookwood had spent enough time among men dedicated to a cause to know he was dealing with one right now. Certainly a lawman, one more than capable of handling himself. The guns on the Cutter more than made up for his own lack of personal weapon. Rookwood swallowed and nodded. Blackthorne saved him from having to say anything as he spoke up.
"Why don't you just tell us what you want then?" The old mans bravado was a nice touch but both Rookwood and Smith saw the fear behind it. What surprised Rookwood was Smiths lack of grin, or even a momentary glimmer of triumph in his eyes. Instead he tucked his sunglasses into the front of his shirt and looked between them for a moment.
"Look, gentlemen. I have read your service records. You've both done your country proud. I ain't ashamed to admit I've never served in combat, never killed a man in battle, but I do serve my country in other ways. I am here, on this boat, in the middle of the Caribbean, to ask you to help me help America." He paused and brushed a hand through wavy black hair. "Our country is under siege from gangs and criminals like the young lady I mentioned a moment ago," He held up a hand to stop any response. "Don't say nothin, you have rights. But let us say you did have connections with the criminal organizations in Mississippi, and let us did say you knew something of their operation. It would be mighty useful to me and mine to know a little bit of what you know."
"Erm..." Rookwood tried to speak but his throat was dry. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Let us say we did know a thing or two, and maybe we do know the young lady previously mentioned, what would you want to know?"
The teeth flashed again. "Now that, Mr. Rookwood, is a damn fine question." The jocular nature of the reply, accented by a quick finger point, was ominous in a way Rookwood could never have explained. "I am not so much interested in the booze, hell, there is enough of that floating around here to keep even the Navy happy. No, Mr. Rookwood, I am looking for more." All sense of humour fled as though a mask had been dropped. "I am far more interested in drugs and firearms."
There was an awkward silence on the boat as he glanced between the two of them, and then at the firearms they had aboard. "Now, there ain't no law that says an American can't defend himself, so I'm not interested in what you keep for personal use. But let us say the Mexicans offered you some cash to move a little cocaine, maybe a couple rifles, you would want to let the good guys know, wouldn't you?"
Rookwood, very aware of how recent his conversation with Hawkins had been, could only nod. The Fed was all smiles again. "Excellent. Well, here's my card. Keep it secret, keep it safe." He passed a white business card over. It showed a business name of Smiths Maritime Mechanical and gave an address in New Orleans. "You fellows talk things over, give me a call if anything comes to mind."
He gave a sharp whistle and the launch swooped back in. Smith paused as prepared to leave the Chloe, a deceptively friendly look on his face. "Remember gentlemen, we know." Another smile and he was gone. Neither Rookwood nor Blackthorne moved as the launch raced back toward the Cutter that was already gathering speed. Within a few minutes the big ship was a white spec fading over the horizon. Blackthorne spoke first.
@Jb, thanks for putting a CS in! Looks good, accepted! Please move your CS to the character tab.
Only comment is a caution against the "dislike of authority". Sassiness is great, but disobeying orders will result in punishment. It is a military unit after all.
Name: Frederick Hecht Rank: Sergeant Aliases: "Stoic" Age: Twenty-two Birth Place: Ardalk Gender: Male Occupation before the war: Worked for his father as a horse trader.
Appearance
Height: 6'4 Weight: 214 Build: Athletic Eyes: Blue Hair: Blonde Tattoos/Scars: Scars on his lower legs Personal Style: Frederick has never been particularly stylish in any notable away. Largely he wears what is comfortable.
Psychology
Relationship Status: Engaged Personality: Serious, professional, Sarcastic, Blunt Habits: Strokes his beard Hobbies: Riding, cards Fears: Combat, death, being injured Likes: Riding horses, hunting, women Dislikes: Being to hot or to cold
Cards On The Table
General or Specialty Skills: Skilled horseman, decent shot with a musket/carbine, passable skill with a sword. What Is On Your Person:
Clothing - Issued dragoon uniform of green jacket with black facings, black pants with white strip, matching saddle and blanket.
Weapons - Dragoons sabre, carbine, and a pistol.
Personal Items - Small packet about his neck that holds a few coins and a locket with a picture of his fiancé.
History
The Reason You Become a Soldier: Like the rest of the troopers in his squadron, Frederick has answered the call to defend Rhaetia. Only his age, skill with the basics, and early enlistment period has made him a sergeant. History: Frederick is the eldest of his parents nine children. Though not a wealthy family, they have done well enough to ensure that none have wanted for food, shelter, or education. His father, a serious and quiet man, runs a horse trading business that deals in stealing horses from other parts of the Empire and breeding them, or selling them, elsewhere.
Frederick was well on his way to being a part of the family business when the revolution broke out. His father was killed early on trying to steal Imperial cavalry mounts, and two other siblings have since died in the infantry. Frederick had originally planned to try and remain at home and support his remaining family but the "trading" business has dried up. Instead he got drunk, met a wealthy land baron who was raising his own regiment, the 6th Dragoons, to fight, and signed on early in its formation. Now, as the regiment rides toward battle, he is a sergeant in charge of twenty troopers.
Additional Characters
Character 1: Trooper Albert Toman Character 2: Trooper Klaus Sperber Character 3: Corporal Domenik Heine
Extras
Character Quote: "Shit biscuit." Theme Song: Unknown Anything Else: N/A
