Join the new world

When you’re stationed in Miami, you know it won’t last long. The brass are too stingy for that. So when we shipped out there, we knew something was up. Tallahassee was burning, and we got to sit here on base, enjoying the waves and all the fine amenities that come with it.

All this meant was that something even worse than Tallahassee was in store for us. They wanted us in R&R so we could fight an even grittier battle when the time came. Well, the time damn came. It’s for that reason that as I write this, I’m being bit by mosquitoes and huddling in a damp homemade pit. Oh what grandeur there is in war.

We shipped out a bit after nightfall the night before. It would be a long journey of throwing up field rations into the dark water. Maybe around eight at night, under cover of darkness, we slipped out of port in some of the fastest craft we had. I didn’t even know they existed until now. Going around two hundred knots, cutting through the water among hundreds of identical craft. Support ships, heavy gunboats, even some advanced destroyers, but the emphasis was on speed, so none of the big gunships like the Owl or the Gnilrap came with us. If it came down to a nautical slugout, we were on our own unless the blarney boys up in Ireland could send something down, and that was highly doubtful given the laws against drunk sailing. However, we did have air support. Long range fighters and bombers with the air force were flying in from bases all over the east coast to ensure air superiority.

We hit the beaches thirteen hours later and two pounds of stomach contents lighter. To say the least, the landing did not go as planned. Portugal must have had some spies back in Miami, because when we got within thirty miles of the landing zones, we started taking hits. we lost about twenty boats during the initial bombardment, but then it abruptly stopped. It turns out, some Spanish battleships actually got the wrong coordinates when heading to Funchal and encountered the Portuguese fleet bombarding our landing crews. Thank Dio for spanish technology! At that point, there was nothing between us and that beach. The bombers had mopped up most of the heavy shore installations, so they were headed home and we were home free for the moment. The actual landing went fairly well, we came on to the beach relatively unopposed, and the remaining enemy fighters quickly surrendered when they were surrounded.
We moved into the Jungle, with D4 and D3 armored units leading the spearhead and D2 and D1 camouflaged infantry following up. We were on the north-west side of the island, with a thirty-five mile trek to the Capital of the region in front of us. This was not going to be easy. We advanced quickly, hoping to out maneuver the Portuguese forces massing around the beach. By noon, we had reached Santa Luzia and set up base camp. We were supposed to meet a regiment of Spanish troops here. We were just sitting down for a lunch of canned spam(I’m lovin it) when gunshots rang out from the forward sentry posts. The Portuguese just loved to interrupt the sacred American tradition of lunch. That’s when a whole gaggle of Spanish troops ran into the camp, followed by our advance divisions shooting at them! It was a mistake! When we settled that little misunderstanding, we sat down to enjoy our meal. The spaniards even brought Paella fresh from Dio knows where. Apparently, despite us shooting at them, they were the lucky ones. Most of their army had been sent south to Funchal on Madeira and those guys weren’t having nearly the time we were. It was an ominous indication that the Portuguese had something up their sleeves. After lunch, we resumed the long march to Ponta Delgada.

It was then that we started to encounter some serious resistance. Portuguese and Serbian snipers taking potshots at our lines as we trekked through the Jungle on narrow roads. So we sent in the brush cleaners to find their positions. These boys were also known as flame spitters. Among them were Crimsonninja and Artela, and with them smoking out the snipers, we could get back on the road without fear of being killed for about an hour. At that point, we were climbing the mountain that was the only significant geographic barrier between us and the Capital. Unfortunately, that mountain was also home to the largest Portuguese Artillery encampment on the island. Shells exploded all around us, mens bodies tossed into the air like ragdolls and flung down to earth. We dug in to endure the bombardment. This is where I crouch now, in the aforementioned pit of soft earth being chewed on by mosquitos. At this point, I think I can hear a soft droning noise. Probably just the mosquitos, nope, it’s not those. It’s too loud for that. What could that be? Oh my god, it’s bombers. I hear the dreaded words, “INCOMING!” from Haselrig and then all hell breaks loose. People are running all over the place, trying to get into cover, and then the bombers fly right over us. “What the hell?” is uttered simultaneously throughout the camp. Then the bombers let loose their payload. It streaks over us and slams into the artillery guns. Even General Disco Musolini was surprised when the Jets flew by our camp at low level, waved their wings, and flew off. It turns out, they’re Polish!



More importantly, with the Artillery neutralized, we were free to move on the mountain. When we reached the top, all we saw was burning wrecks left from the attack. However, the Portuguese who survived are still here, and they are putting up one hell of a fight. As I’m writing this, I can see Lurunin tossing a grenade into one of the still standing barracks. D1 is taking a real beating right now. I’m heading over there with a platoon of D3 soldiers to relieve them now. With our front safe, it’s only right to ensure their victory.

After heading a little more than ten kilometers south-east, we saw the outskirts of Ponta Delgada. It was total pandemonium. There were droves of refugees streaming out of the city, and spanish bombers were already working over the defenses. I almost felt a twinge of guilt at beating such a weak enemy. Before making a ground attack, we set up camp and prepared for a night invasion. Since the Portuguese didn’t know we had arrived yet, it was our best shot. I checked my weapon and after gathering some of my comrades, I took my watch until one o’ clock. At that point, the entire camp set off to attack the city. We took them by surprise, running through the streets, with Heavy armor units blasting apart the enemy strongholds. At one fifty-three A.M, February the second, the American flag was raised over Ponta Delgada. The remaining enemy troops surrendered and that was that. The rallying cry from then on, ON TO EUROPE!

SHOUT:
War on Portugal: The Azores