The Summer of Hell — 1998 Douglandic-Lorsalian War

1km from the Lorsalian border

8th Infantry Brigade

June 12th, 1998, 0800 hours


It was the usual daily Douglandic downpour, and Corporal Oliver Conwell was sitting in a chair in his assigned border post with his D-2 rifle by his side. Unlike the Ninhundish forces stationed in Dougland, he didn’t mind the rain at all. To Oliver, the rain was soothing and brought him much-needed peace he never usually got in the Army.

Oliver was glad his unit wasn't selected to attend this year's Foal Falcon exercise. He merely just wanted to avoid the chaos associated with the event. Simply, he desired to finish his national service and then get out of the army. He didn’t need nor desire to get caught up in a hellish environment.

All of a sudden, something caught his eye. He could see movement in the foliage directly in front of him but couldn’t make out what it was. A loud hum could be heard coming from the Lorsalian side of the border. Oliver then proceeded to reach for his binoculars; Looking through them he saw the unthinkable: two Lorsalian BBO-520s and five LJ-490s had moved across the border. Immediately grabbing his radio, he sent a message directly to his brigade’s HQ:

“Lorsalian armored units have just crossed the border! Repeat, Lorsalians armored units have just crossed the border! Over.”

“Copy.”

Immediately after he let out his message, a round from a tank’s cannon detonated right in front of his position.

Shit. Shit. Shit, Oliver thought to himself.

Suddenly, a streak of white smoke could be seen flying towards the approaching tanks.  The white streak then rammed into one of the BBO-520s, engulfing the tank in flames.  

It became apparent to Oliver that his platoon had now engaged the Lorsalian armored column: Oliver could now see armored personnel carriers approaching from behind the tanks. The Lorsalian infantry started to dismount and advance on his platoon’s position.

Oliver, seeing this, proceeded to fire upon the dismounted Lorsalian troops. Then a second stream of white came racing at the second BBO-520, ramming into the tank. As the missile hit the tank’s ammo rack, it detonated the tank’s ammo rack—killing the crew instantly.

The Lorsalian Infantry, now fully dismounted, had begun to give suppressing fire and attempted to eliminate the Douglandic anti-tank teams.

Realizing that his platoon was, at the very least, outnumbered three to five, Oliver yet again reached for his radio to transmit a message:

“We are in the process of being overrun by Lorsalian mechanized forces. Requesting air support on border Sector Charlie at hill 617. Over.”

“Copy that. ETA fifteen minutes. Over.”

The next eleven minutes would feel like days to Oliver as the Lorsalian horde rammed itself against the battered Douglandic platoon. By now his platoon had lost half of its strength to the Lorsalian assault on the border post. The platoon had used all eight of its missiles for their two D74 anti-tank launchers. They had managed to take out all seven of the tanks and an armored personnel carrier. Despite this success, numerous armored personnel carriers remained and were attempting to surround their position. To achieve this, elements of the Lorsalian mechanized company would attempt a charge against the Douglandic defenders. Oliver at this point, switched his rifle to full auto, considering that the Lorsalians were only fifty meters away from his platoon.

“Keep firing lads! Don’t let them gain an inch!" yelled a Douglandic lieutenant.

The barrels of the D-3 light machine guns had begun to glow bright red, and ammunition was starting to run low. The situation was collapsing for the Douglandic Soldiers.

Frantically a lieutenant asked Oliver, “Corporal, how long until CAS arrives?”  

“I was told fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes ago!” replied Oliver.

Seeing the writing on the wall, what was left of the Douglandic platoon threw smoke grenades toward the Lorsalians to cover their retreat.

As the hill became engulfed in smoke, the Douglandic soldiers would sprint towards the border checkpoint’s parking lot. Every one-hundred meters passed by the platoon—they would provide suppressing fire behind them to prevent being followed.

When Oliver reached the parking lot—in front of him were two Ukiah-311 trucks and seven DM131 jeeps. But with his platoon losing half its strength in the skirmish, only one truck and three jeeps would be taken.

The platoon in a hastily attempt to delay the capture of the unused vehicles opened fire at their tires and attempted to damage their engines.

Sensing the approaching Lorsalians, the platoon would board the remaining vehicles and merge onto the highway, with Oliver driving the lead jeep. Once the entire convoy had merged onto the highway — Oliver hit his gas pedal and he and the rest of the convoy were cruising at 100 kilometers per hour. As Oliver drove away from the border checkpoint, he could see a sign that read, “563 km to Sealth.”

Suddenly, a loud roar could be heard. A DA-22 had finally arrived to provide close air support. As the jet flew past the convoy, a series of loud booms could be heard coming from behind the convoy.

Smoke could be seen rising from the Lorsalian position as the DA-22 began the process of strafing the Lorsalians.

Then the radio of Oliver’s DM131 started to flare up with activity:

“This is 81st Infantry Brigade HQ: we have confirmation that a full-scale Lorsalian invasion has commenced. You are ordered to withdraw to the Alabas River to establish a defensive perimeter, as attempting a defensive posture on the border is ill-advised at this time. Reinforcements from the west are expected to arrive in two days to reinforce our position. Godspeed to all of you. Over and out.”

Oliver now understood the extent of the situation, and realized that his wish to not be in western Dougland would become the greatest monkey’s paw of his life.

Qwoehel Airbase
June 13, 1998 09:30


It was a typical morning at the the Qwoehel Airbase, typical routine with nothing out of the ordinary. Only that there was to be a joint Ninhundish-Douglandic training exercise set for the 20th as part of airforce pilot training. Only certain members stationed at the airbase were selected to take part in the event which was am accomplishment if one was chosen.


The day for Fabian Schröder started off perfectly normal, almost too normal it seemed. It had been a relatively calm week for him with nothing eventful occurring, almost had felt like a break. It was supposed to be a quiet day and Fabian had plans to spend the day with his fellow members of the squadron, planning to go into Qwoehel and spend the evening out at the bar which many deployed Ninhundish soldiers liked. This was supposed to be a day off.


All of a sudden the sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance with what appeared to be smoke in the far eastern horizon. Fabian along with his fighter wing squadron were initially confused as to what the fuck could have been going on. It was only until approximately at around 13:00 local time an announcement had been made in both Branderlandish and Noremacian.

”Lorsalian troops have crossed the Douglandic border! Repeat! Lorsalian troops have cross the Douglandic border! This is an attack! Repeat! This is an attack! Yesterday Lorsalian forces had overrun the border checkpoint! Reinforcements from the west have been requested!”


Lorsalia launching an attack on Douglandic soil? Requesting air reinforcements? What the fuck! This was all coming so quickly to Fabian all happening in what felt like the blink of an eye. Reinforcements weren’t expected to arrive until tomorrow but due to the news all soldiers were now required to stay at the base and await farther instructions, it wouldn’t be out of the question that due to the proximity to the Lorsalian border they’d be amongst those reinforcements.


By 20:30, a long line of Douglandic military vehicles had arrived at Qwoehel Airbase as it was a provided shelter location for the convoy fleeing the border. This instant attack at the border and subsequent advance of Lorsalian troops was a shock to everyone. Without any prior warning Lorsalia had decided to launch a full land invasion catching everyone by surprise. What had seemed to be a typically normal day with no information even reaching about yesterday until the afternoon had turned to this. This surprise attack had definitely caught initial lines of defence completely off guard forcing an a rapid evacuation westbound. Qwoehel while not currently under attack was clearly in the path and it was only a matter of time that it would find itself in that situation.


June 17

Lorsalian forces could be seen advancing on Qwoehel with missiles targeting the runway. A loud explosion could be heard as one of those missiles hit directly at an engine of the fighter jet causing a massive fire on the runway. An evacuation had been called as shelling of the city had begun that morning, shortly after an evacuation of the airbase was underway with underground shelters becoming quickly full. The fire from a previous missile shot was still raging on across the runway making manoeuvre by flight a lot more difficult, thus prompting a regrouping of reinforcements farther west. The Lorsalians proved to be more prepared than what was originally thought and the coalition forces had gotten the first taste of battle on the 15th. The roads were jammed full of civilians trying to flee for their lives which only hampered any ground support from reaching Qwoehel, but this was only a start of what was to come.