Into Montana I go

[Dillon1102]

 

 

 

The head of Cascadian Foreign Intelligence, Carson Gerber, stood on the docks of Seattle, looking at the burned out hulk of the Sands freighter. Gerber wasn't a well known man, even among the leadership of the country, which he enjoyed. He was much more at home in the field doing work for Alan, rather than siting in an office directing people around. He strolled over to a small group of Cascadian Rangers. They turned and stared at the Gerber, who spoke in a directing tone, "Where is Major Foch?" They pointed to a short 

man practicing what Gerber believed to be karate but couldn't be completely sure. Gerber shook his head and forced himself to walk over to Foch. Gerber gulped, "You are Foch?" Foch turned and stared at Gerber. "Yeah, what do you want." Gerber closed his eyes before opening them and speaking, "You're coming with me you have been specially selected for this mission." Foch looked extremely confused but accepted what Gerber said, "Where are we going?" "Montana."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The second ranger regiment moved slowly into Montana. Their objective was to secure the westernmost counties so they could be used as a staging ground for the rest of first army. Artillery, both towed and mobile, from tenth division, would move in alongside the rangers and begin firing upon border towns and Montana Militia military installations.

[Captain Enema]

The Badlands

 

The Unreliables were being their typically unreliable selves when the word came down that Cascadia was moving in to upset the all the applecarts. Marco sat down with a 'liberated' bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue label and hosted an impromptu command conference using the hood of his freshly delivered Procintian War Wagon as a map table. His second in command, Polo, was no where to be found as he had disappeared with a tall blonde several hours before and it didn't take too much of an imagination to guess he was living up to his nickname of, 'The Fist'. 

 

Well, imagination and the sounds of her screams for more could be heard three buildings away. 

 

"Alright, let's get this conference started," Marco said as he poured out generous servings of Blue Label.

 

"The local gangs are going crazy, they are talking about forming up a defensive line outside of Bozenman and trying to fend off the Cascadian Army," Dilbert, the Unreliable's dedicated.... community outreach officer.. explained. The heavily scarred knuckles on his massive fists might lead one to indicate that his brand of community outreach leaned more towards the aggressive sort. 

 

"Stupid," stated Dave. No one really knows who Dave was as he had just wandered up ten minutes before. But he offered an intelligent counterpoise to the sometimes juvenile Unreliable point of view. Truth be told, the Unreliables were such an easy come easy go sort of bunch in the Human Resources department, a complete stranger walking up out of no where wasn't all that big of a deal. 

 

"Who the hell are you?" Marco asked.

 

"Dave."

 

"Ok, Dave, sit down over there, I think we have a rare opportunity to gain a market share in the pacification of Montana. Let's face it, the pickings are slim here and only getting slimmer," Marco explained as he pointed at random spots on the map of Nevada.

 

"Sir?" asked Dave.

 

"Yes?"

 

"I don't think Bozeman or the Badlands are anywhere near Reno."

 

"Good point, but no big deal, we all know Bozeman is to the east," Marco said with an astute look on his face.

 

"West sir."

 

"Just testing, you passed," replied Marco. 

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

Five Procintian War Wagons were lined up in a column with three larger cargo vehicles. The War Wagons were equipped with rubber front tires, radios, new engines, transmissions, and a variety of weapons. 7.62 x 51 Machine guns graced the roof,  5.56 Squad Automatic weapon poked out the front as well. One of the War Wagons was fitted with a heavy 120 mm recoilless rifle in the event the Unreliables required a bit more firepower. Several more Unreliables waited on their motorcycles with a large passenger van filled with what was roughly referred to as the Unreliable Mech Infantry. All told the Unreliables with supports have between 34 and 60 members depending upon how much they've been drinking and what time zone they are in. 

 

Marco toggled his radio and said, "Radio check." He listened carefully as each vehicle with a radio checked in. He then extend his middle finger at one of the bikers and they in turn checked in by returning the gesture. Over the radio he ordered, "Alright, let's go, one Wagon in the rear, the road crews in front of it, with the Mech Infantry in front of them and then the rest of the War Wagons in front. Bikers, to the sides and keep your eyes open." The drivers confirmed their orders by honking their horns and with that the Unreliables got underway.

 

Their destination wasn't far, local intelligence gathered by COO Dilbert, informed them the gangs were gathering around several buildings near the freeway leading into Bozeman. Marco had decided the Unreliables were going to advance on the gang's locations from the Unreliable's current position south of Bozeman under the pretense of joining the gang's efforts. Once they were close, the Unreliables were going to turn them into hamburger and then wait for the Cascadians to arrive and reap the glory of slaughtering a bunch of antisocial malcontents. 

 

"HOIST THE COLORS!" Marco ordered and watched with pride as the Unreliables began to run up the company colors on their assorted vehicles. 

 

Edited October 27, 2014 by Tidy Bowl Man

[Dillon1102]

30 seconds. That's how long the artillery was permitted to fire on the heavily fortified town of Dillon. A recon plane flying over recorded the destruction. Around forty shells sailed into the town, mostly centered around the business district. 30 seconds, 40 shells, and the entire district was leveled. Quickly after that 3 UH-60L Blackhawks would arrive quietly and surround the town hall. Gunners on board the Blackhawks would tear open anyone who was brave enough to show themselves on the streets with their GAU-19s. 22 Rangers departed from the helicopters and broke through the door and moved up to the roof where they would raise the Doug Flag.

[Captain Enema]

The Unreliables closed on the massive camp of heavily armed gangsters, militiamen, and other assorted rabble. They had taken over a large truckstop and an adjoining field with dozens of vehicles parked in no particular order. As far as Marco could see they had no guards posted, no roving security patrols, and from the looks of it there wasn't much in the way of order. Marco didn't take long to make his decision as he barked into his radio, "Mech and Road Crews, pull off the road and fort up. War Wagons and bikers will proceed in column straight through the middle. Don't stop for anything, anyone gets hit, they get left to fend for themselves until we can extract them. Fire on anything that doesn't fly an Unreliable banner. Confirm orders."

 

The individual vehicles confirmed their orders as the heavy vehicles of the road crew and the battered passenger van of the Mechanized Infantry pulled off to a wide spot on the side of the road. The Mech Infantry unloaded and started setting up their two heavy crew served weapons. The first being an ancient M-60 Machine Gun and the other an equally ancient but highly serviceable RPG. The Road Crew had their own weapons and they prepared to use them to defend themselves as they started digging out small holes to fight from. Marco turned his attention elsewhere as he motioned his driver to move the War Wagon into the lead. "Steady boys, don't burn through all our ammo," he ordered as he racked a round into his own carbine.

 

Unreliable 1, Marco's vehicle, was followed by the other four War Wagons and bikers. The bikers didn't have to be told to follow in the rear and split off into pairs as they passed through the camp. They wouldn't be firing their weapons, they'd be observing and dropping grenades in their wake as they passed through the confusion left behind by the War Wagons. It was a maneuver Marco has practiced a few times in the Unreliables recent adventures in clearing out a small bandit haven to the east. By passing through the Bandit's holdings at high speed with weapons blazing, the Unreliables had left a path of destruction right through the middle of them and the bikers had added to the chaos as they weaved their way through the rear of the Bandit's location. "Sir?" Dave asked.

 

"Yes?" Marco asked back.

 

"Should you be taking lead?" asked Dave.

 

"Probably not, floor it," he replied. "ALL UNITS, fire as targets bear."

 

The next few minutes were confusing, chaotic, and passed like a blur. The War Wagons wove their way through the enemy's disorganized positions firing every weapon they had. It wasn't an easy path as the poorly laid out camp worked against the Unreliables at one point as they found themselves penned in due to the erratically parked vehicles. "GOD DAMN IT, smash through," Marco screamed at Dave who did just that as he revved the engine of Unreliables 1 and slammed into the rear fender of a small two door as he plowed the way to freedom. From the backseat of of Unreliables 1, Marco blazed away at passing targets from the passenger side window. 

 

Above him the constant hammering of the GPMG drummed away at his skull. The crackle of the 5.56 in the front seat wasn't doing his tortured temples much of a favor either. His own carbine spat out malevolent 7.62 x 39 seeds of hate at whatever he could snap a shot off at. On the other side of the rear seat still recovering Polo was popping 40 mm grenades out the side with a his M-79 as fast he could load the chunky little beast. Sooner than anyone expected, the four remaining Unreliable War Wagons broke free of the enemy camp and formed a line on the opposite side and opened fire in a more organized fashion. They were joined with the half a dozen surviving bikers who managed to break free from the camp, and the Mech Infantry who left their position and hit the camp from another direction with their RPG and M-60. 

 

an hour later...

 

"Sir, 11 Unreliables dead and wounded. 6 bikers, 5 men in War Wagon 5. War Wagon 5 can be salvaged. I already have a few recruits lined up to replace our losses," explained Polo.

 

"Who?" asked Marco.

 

"A small group of bikers out of California asked to sign on. They were on the far edge of the camp and didn't take any losses. They had just shown up for what they thought was a rally. Dilbert says they aren't too horrible and probably don't have too many warrants out for their arrest," replied Polo.

 

"Sign them up," Marco replied as he poured himself another inch of Johnnie Walker Blue Label and stared vacantly off into space.

[Captain Enema]

Bozeman Montana

 

Marco looked at his Unreliables, they looked much sharper after helping themselves to the contents of an Army Surplus store. One might say they even displayed a certain military bearing, which was being honed further by Dave who had served in the Marines. Every morning for two hours the Unreliables had been practicing their shooting, vehicular drills, and other military topics that Dave deemed necessary. Marco frequently added his own input that came from his prior service as a Military Policeman, which proved useful as the situation in Bozeman took quite the contrary turn.

 

With the gangsters, bikers, and other criminal elements in graves, on the run, or in the makeshift prison camp that Marco threw them into, the locals emerged. Marco decided the best way to deal with them was to organize them by neighborhoods and let them figure things out for themselves. He passed the word that as soon as the Cascadians arrived the locals would need to deal directly with them and things would go easier for everyone if they acted as sanely as possible. For the most part the local citizens of Bozeman were content to integrate with Cascadia as their now deceased former rulers certainly were not a case for 'direct democracy' that some of them claimed to favor as part of their rabidly libertarian political agenda. 

 

For now, the only political agenda was survival and the natives of Bozeman were sorting it out. A few police cars, supported by Unreliable War Wagons, wandered the streets. Polo had found a several 2 1/2 tonne gun trucks in a local militia vehicle park that he appropriated for the use of the Unreliables. Each gun truck needed a crew of three and carried four more Unreliable Infantrymen in the back. This was something of a relief for Marco as he had frequent nightmares of the old passenger van being hit with an RPG round and wiping out his entire infantry complement. Other services such as water, power, and the fire department were chugging along in fits and starts.

 

Marco didn't worry about those things, they weren't his business. So long as the locals weren't blasting away at him or each other he was content with letting them handle their own affairs. He spent his time reorganizing his Unreliables. The gun trucks were useful new additions, new weapons for the vehicles had been sourced from the captured gangster weapons. Armored vests were taken from a police depot, new radios from the same police source, helmets from a survivalist's basement, and from the same basement three new RPGs. The real find was a brand spanking new MANPAD anti-aircraft rocket launcher and a 20 mm cannon that needed  just a little work before being used. Marco dedicated one of the new gun trucks to heavy weapons duty and fitted it with the 20 mm cannon and the MANPAD and then assigned to the roadcrews as their personal toy.

 

New road crew vehicles had been found and touched up for the Unreliables. Work trucks from a local utility company that came equipped with cutting torches, welders, and all manner of tools were being drooled on by the Unreliable mechanics at this very moment. With them came a two trailers, one for hauling water and one for fuel. Marco had all of the new vehicles given paint jobs of green, brown, and black stripes to give them a semi-military bearing. The Roadcrew vehicles were also issued several shotguns from police depots and each one is given on of the old 5.56 Squad Automatic Weapons that were replaced by a newer weapon on the War Wagons. 

 

All in all, the Unreliables were shaping up to be a reasonably decent force of highly mobile fast moving mechanized commandos. New members were found in the Bozeman community, several of them had prior military service that was put to good use. A vital find was a local shop teacher that proved to be the rain man of auto mechanics and somehow was able to fix almost every mechanical failure with a screwdriver, quite the valuable skill with a group like the Unreliables who had an eclectic assortment of vehicles at their disposal. 

 

 

Edited October 28, 2014 by Tidy Bowl Man

[Captain Enema]

East of Bozeman

 

Marco had gotten so bored waiting, waiting, and waiting some more for the Cascadians to arrive that he had set off searching for a reported band of freebooting renegades to the East of Bozeman. He left the city in decent hands under the control of a interim Mayor, the City of Bozeman Police, and a newly raised Militia of Bozeman citizens. Without so much as a backwards glace, he had formed his vehicles up into a column, raised the Unreliable banners on each of them, and headed off in pursuit of their rumored enemy.

 

Reports had trickled in from refugees that someone was laying waste to farms and small villages and were doing so with a great deal of force. Rather than let things carry on as they were, Marco dispatched a radio message on all channels to the Cascadians informing him of the nature of the Unreliables and their intention to go scumbag hunting. With this sorted out the five War Wagons, 4 gun trucks, 1 heavy weapons truck, 3 roadcrew trucks, 2 supply trucks, mess truck, and 16 motorcycles embarked on their mission. 

 

Intelligence was spotty and that forced Marco to scout extensively. He did this by moving 30 miles as a strong column and then send out two patrols of motorcycles and War Wagons at a time to scout nearby sites. These patrols would gather information by questioning local citizens. They also searched for signs of the Freebooters passing by looking for tire tracks, grave sites, and freshly burnt out buildings. The signs of the freebooters being in the area were there but as far as Marco could determine the Freebooters were moving fast and staying under cover as often as possible. Other reports led him to believe they were traveling in civilian vehicles as well, which made it even more difficult to pick them out of a crowd. 

[Captain Enema]

The Story of Polo, Aka "The Fist"

 

Polo wasn't all that happy with the recent turn of events. Chasing down the Freebooters came with a large measure of risk, Polo was aware of that even before Marco had made the decision to run them down. Courting danger wasn't anything new to Polo, sliding down the sides of buildings to pay late night visits to various daughters and wives desensitized him to the hammer of adrenaline long ago. The fear of a beating from an outraged father or husband might not get his juices flowing anymore but the sheer terror of having a pistol round slam into the door frame of a Procintian War Wagon no more than two inches from his head certainly did.

 

No sooner did the pistol round slam into the door frame did Polo bring his trusty M-79 40 mm grenade launcher up and fire it at a flicker of movement. He didn't have a clear line of sight on who might have shot at him but as he had loaded his weapon with one of his specialty handloaded flechette rounds he wasn't overly worried. The resulting spray of airborne darts screamed out of his window and sang their way across the rubble of the wrecked city of Imingston Montana. 

 

No sooner had he fired did the gunner in the passenger seat open fire on a different target. Polo, the passenger seat gunner, the driver all had themselves showered in a spray of warm blood and brains from the topside gunner who took a large caliber bullet to the head. Polo grunted as he pushed the top gunner's body over to the side and stood to take his place. As he settled in behind the 7.62 x 51 mm weapon he found himself in a target rich environment as freebooters started to stand and open fire. If they wanted to make it so easy, he wasn't going pass up such an opportunity, he quickly opened up. 

 

Behind him the four other War Wagons and Gun Trucks were likewise busy as their weapons joined the fray. Machine gun fire, grenades, screams echoed across the haunted wasteland. Ruined homes, burnt out cars, corpses both old and new, and wreckage of all shapes and sizes clogged the wrecked streets of Imingston. Over the radio he would have heard, "Stay in your vehicles, keep moving!" 

 

Marco's Sad Lament

 

Marco was fighting from the back of a Gun Truck. He had found the back seat of Unreliable 1 to do nothing good for his posture and backside. He fired at what targets he could find with his carbine and urged the Unreliables to keep moving. The Freebooters had certain caught them with their pants down but had managed to do so in the stupidest way possible by standing up in the open. "They aren't used to having people shoot back," Marco screamed. 

 

"They'll learn quickly enough," shouted Dave who had taken over command of the Unreliables Light Infantry after their previous commander vanished. No doubt he'd wander up in the future and explain that he had been taken into the arms of a buxom virgin who needed his comfort, a perfectly acceptable excuse to miss a deployment for an Unreliable. 

 

"Stay in your vehicles, KEEP MOVING!" Marco screamed over the radio as he noticed some of the Infantry in another Gun Truck start to unload. No sooner had he sent the order over the radio did one of the Infantrymen who was half way over the side of the Gun Truck find himself the new owner of three 5.56 rounds in the center of his chest. 

 

"Damn it," Dave shouted as he sought out the shooter and opened fire on him. 

 

"War Wagon 1, MOVE, smash your way through if you have to!" Marco ordered.

 

 

Polo's Bad Day Part 2

 

Polo felt his leg collapse under him and he fell into the backseat of Unreliable 1. He looked down and noticed that his left leg had been shot. He didn't feel much pain which always surprised him after being shot, but having been shot before he knows the pain will shortly be coming. After he applied a battle dressing to his leg wound he picked up his M-79 and started hammering out round after round of buckshot, flechette, and high explosives. "Sir! Marco is ordering us to smash a way through!" Unreliable 1's driver shouted.

 

"DO IT GOD DAMN IT," Polo shouted back over the sounds of the passenger's 5.56 SAW's cacophony of violence. The noise of battle so often confused communications that Polo frequently screamed yes at everything and hoped for the best. Clearly he had shouted yes at the right thing this time as the howling sirens that Marco had installed on the Gun Trucks indicated it was time to move. "FLOOR IT, run through everything, over anyone, don't stop for nothing!"

 

The driver being a very enthusiastic driver didn't really need to be told any of this promptly proceeded to run over two Freebooters who jumped up in the front yard of a wrecked house. The passenger gunner mowed them down and the driver finished them off as he dovetailed off the street just to be sure he got in his two cents on the people who were a few seconds ago trying to kill him. "HOLD ONTO YOUR BALLS," screamed the driver.

 

"@#$#@#$#" screamed Polo as he hammered out another buckshot round with his M-79.

 

"@#$@#@#," screamed the passenger seat gunner.

 

"@#$$##$," screamed Marco who watched War Wagon 1 drive right through the side of a barely standing house and out the other side of it. 

 

East of Imingston

 

"Send Gun Trucks 1 and 3. Have War Wagons 1 and 5 tag along, all four of them need repairs badly. They can go around Imingston with the bikers. Once the Roadcrews have made repairs, they'll escort the Road Crews to meet up with us. I want the bikers to meet up with the Roadcrews, refuel, reload, and swing around to the south of Imingston. Make sure the Freebooters aren't heading that way," Marco ordered as he watched one of the few Unreliable medics work on Polo. 

 

"What about the rest of us?" asked Dave.

 

"The Freebooters are behind us," we are turning this mess around and going back, slowly," Marco replied.

 

"I suggest we have the Doggers out," Dave said.

 

"Doggers?" 

 

"Its what the Infantry call themselves. I'm guessing it has something to do with a certain Golden Lab that got eaten three weeks ago."

 

"Really? I liked that dog, hoped it tasted good."

 

"So, doggers with RPGs, being covered by the Gun Trucks?" asked Dave.

 

"Yes, doggers it is. RPGs, and Gun Trucks covering. We go slow and support each other."

 

Bikers

 

The ride North of Imingston had been uneventful. The battered Gun Trucks and War Wagons had taken a few glancing hits from Freebooters that were quickly deterred by the vehicle's gunners. The Bikers on their agile 500 cc all terrain dirtbikes ignored them, when shot at they did what they had learned the hard way, kept moving and stayed as low as possible. If they needed to return fire, they'd do so from what cover they could fine. Trying to shoot from the seat of a moving motorcycle was all but pointless as they were just as likely to hit themselves as they were anyone else. 

 

No sooner had they refueled, rearmed, and had a bite to eat did the Bikers take off to the south. It wasn't an long trip, no more than four miles and sure enough, two miles into their trip back to East Imingston did they find Freebooters. Lots of them. 

 

Marco..... Polo....... Marco..... Polo....

 

"Sound off!" Dave shouted.

 

"Marco!"

 

"Polo!"

 

"Bwahahahahahah..."

 

"STOP THAT DAMN LAUGHING, SOUND OFF," Dave thundered as they crouched behind what cover they could find. Freebooters were actively spraying down everything that moved and the only things moving just happened to be the Unreliables.

 

"Dave, you see that building across the street, looks like gas station?" asked Marco.

 

"Yeah."

 

"I just saw four or five people run into it."

 

"Right, doggers 1, you shoot the hell out of it, doggers two you keep watch left, doggers 3, watch right. Doggers 4, you remind any lost sheep why they should be scared of any man from Montana!" Dave shouted. The Gun Truck teams acknowledged their orders and even before they could act on them did one of the men from doggers 1 open up on it with an RPG. 

 

They all watched as the 90 mm round screamed its way across the street, right through the front window, and out the backside of the building without exploding. "Right, again, for the 500th time, make sure your targets are far enough away for the missile to arm itself," Dave groaned.

 

"You have to admit, if you were inside of that thing, you'd have crapped your pants," Marco whispered to Polo.

 

"I'd be shoveling my shorts out by now," Polo whispered back. 

 

"Use that piece of crap M-79 of yours," Marco ordered.

 

"Can't out of rounds," Polo replied as he shrugged. 

 

Neither of them spoke any further as they watched Dave lead the doggers through the latest evolution of this contest of wills. The Freebooters in the gas station didn't need too much encouragement to come out and surrender. As soon as they exited the gas station with their hands up they were cut down with fire from the back of Gun Truck 2 that rumbled up. "Whoops," shouted the gunner.

 

"Yeah, try not to do that again," Marco said.

 

"Shame that," Dave observed.

 

"Tragedy, those boys will never go onto get the justice they deserve," Polo expanded sagely.

"What justice is that?" asked Dave.

 

"A hanging."

 

Biker's Road House and Grill

 

The Bikers weren't in a terrible position but they certainly would not object to having some help. The main force had been sucked in fairly deep after it went back into Imingston, leaving the cupboard nearly empty to send reinforcements to the Bikers. Ralph, the head Bikers, caustically observed, "Well, this is going to suck worst than a sand filled enema." 

 

The rest of his bikers who were crouching, laying, hiding behind anything they could find agreed. As the Bikers and the Freebooters traded fire, Ralph noticed that they weren't really trying all that hard. "Give me the radio," Ralph ordered.

 

"This is Ralph, Marco there?"

 

"Yeah, go ahead."

 

"The Freebooters are pulling out to the south and I think they are heading east."

 

"How bad are things your end?"

 

"We need some help soon," Ralph replied.

 

"It's coming, should be there in five," Marco responded.

 

"HELP IS COMING," Ralph shouted as he hunkered down to wait.

 

"HELP IS HERE," a biker shouted as he pointed out Gun Truck 3 screaming down the street firing at everything that moved. 

 

"FLARE!" Ralph shouted. One of the bikers stood, pointed a flare gun at Gun Truck 3, and fired. The awestruck bikers watched in complete astonishment as the flare screamed towards Gun Truck 3, hit the heavy metal side of the Gun Truck, and the sizzled off  in another direction. "SHOOT UP YOU RETARD! NOT AT THE DAMN TRUCK!"

 

"Sorry sir, the driver of Gun Truck 3 owes me money, figured it would be a good way to remind him."

 

"God help me, comedians the lot of you," groaned Ralph.

 

Montana, where men are men and sheep carry .45 pistols...

 

"7 dead, 9 wounded, and War Wagon 2 is a complete write off," Polo informed Marco.

 

"Crap," Marco replied.

"Orders?" Dave asked.

 

"Get the bikers out looking, send our salvage parties, see if we can find fuel and food," Marco replied.

 

"Are we going to chase them?" Polo asked.

 

"Hell yes, we are going to run them down completely," Marco retorted.

 

"Right, we can have 3 Gun Trucks and 3 War Wagons mobile and moving in an hour," Dave informed.

 

"We are tired, we need fuel, and food. But we gotta keep up the chase. As soon as the Bikers have a credible sighting, we move. Until then let's get these vehicles repaired and see what we can salvage. We at least ought to be able to find some swag," Marco ordered. The three men watched silently as the doggers, gunners, and drivers picked over the loot from the bodies of the fallen Freebooters. Several lamp posts and trees has just been decorated with Freebooters who were dangling from the trees by their necks. Whatever happens next in Montana, the Freebooters, or at least this bunch of them aren't going to play a role in it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Captain Enema]

East of Imington

 

The first Freebooter ambush that the Unreliables brushed aside wasn't much to speak. A few cars turned over on their sides and a dozen Freebooters blazing away with no particular great accuracy. Ralph's Bikers spotted them first and Marco decided to put the Heavy Weapons Truck to use and ordered it forward. A few rounds of 20 mm cannon fire later and the surviving Freebooters were fleeing for their lives. Polo quickly ordered the driver of Unreliable 1 forward and he took great pleasure in cutting down the rest of the Freebooters with a few bursts of 7.62 x 51 fire from the top mounted machine gun.

 

The next three ambushes that followed grew increasingly more difficult to overcome as the Freebooters grew more desperate. Marco ordered the Unreliables to approach carefully and use RPGs and 20 mm fire when possible to reduce the Freebooters before closing. It rapidly became obvious they were trading lives for time in hopes to escape or to find a spot to meet the Unreliables in a picked battle. What became obvious was the Freebooters were rapidly evolving from their former incompetent selves to something less incompetent.

 

The last of the three ambushes took nearly eight hours and thousands of rounds of ammunition to clear. The Freebooters fortified an overpass and waited till the Unreliables were in spitting distance before opening fire. They worked their way through the woods to snipe and harrass the Unreliables from the sides and managed to even get far enough to the rear where they unsuccessfully hit the Roadcrews. Not that it bothered the Roadcrews, they took it as a welcome break from patching up battered bodies and vehicles. The Unreliables had grown to include a working ambulance that had been found in a barn on an abandoned farm along with other equipment and manpower.

 

Several vehicles and men had been added to the Unreliables roster. The ambulance itself was a welcome addition as it gave the three man medical team a purpose built place to do their work. Two of the War Wagons had completely given up the ghost and had been pushed off to the side of the road. They had been stripped of parts and set on fire before the Unreliables had moved on. Their replacements were a pair of heavily armored technicals that were stock vehicles adopted for the mission by the Roadcrews just outside of Imington. All told the armoring and weaponzing of the two trucks took nearly a full afternoon. Volunteers for the Unreliables had wandered up and joined, drills had been conducted to help them not be too terribly inept, and supplies had been scrounged.

 

That was before three ambushes, after the third eight hour engagement, things were much different. Marco, Polo, and Dave were hand counting the amount of ammunition they had left and it wasn't a pretty picture. "We don't have enough for a full engagement," Dave groaned.

 

"Yeah, this ain't good," Marco muttered.

 

"Maybe we can call the Cascadians for help?" asked Polo.

 

"They don't even know who we are or if they can trust us, bad idea," Marco said.

 

"We could run a couple of trucks back to Bozeman for a quick supply run," Dave said.

 

"It'll have to do, we can cross load what is left and send it forward to keep wearing on the Freebooters. Two trucks will drive back to Bozeman and beg for bullets and fuel," Marco ordered.

 

"I'll go with them myself," Polo said.

[Dillon1102]

BEAVERHEAD COUNTY

 

 

With Dillon captured and the rest of beaverhead county, Cascadia was able to begin bringing in the larger elements of the military. With speculation on the oppositions fighting strength at around 47,500 the entire 1st army was called to action. Beginning with I Corp which was to move in a construct a forward operating base in Dillon, mainly on the newly rebuilt business district. With the militia gone and Cascadia in control now citizens were able to return to their daily lives. Instructors from Cascadia would be brought in to help increase Montanas dropping literacy rates.

 

 

 

BOZEMAN

 

Four F-22 Raptors escorting 12 B-1 Lancers that were prepared to strike at militia targets but as they were passing over the city no members of the militia could be positively identified. This greatly confused the pilots who were expecting a strong encampment. One of the Raptor pilots noticed a column of militants leaving Bozeman. The pilot contacted one of the Lancer pilots to discern who the militants were. "Do you see the column heading east?"

 

"Roger, are they a militia taskforce?"

 

"I don't believe so, but to be safe we should probably do a fly by"

 

"Alright, the rest of us will head back and refuel."

 

One of the raptors broke from the formation they had been flying and flew down towards the convoy. Slowing down enough so he could register who they were. It took him a moment, but he realized that they were the unreliables. He then pulled a sharp turn and returned to hid formation and then flew back to base.

 

 

With Bozeman empty the 2nd division moved in and secured it. Deploying regular infantry on the streets that would conduct regular patrols into the rest of the county. Tank elements would begin to push farther east. One tank company would seek to meet up with the reliables.

[Captain Enema]

Singin' the Big Timber Blues...

 

"Now look carefully at the trucks surrounding the building, you see they are all burnt out and wrecked? The walls behind them and the concrete under them aren't burnt," Dave said as he motioned towards the trucks. Polo and Marco watched intently and made the proper sounds of confirmation as they followed Dave's hand.

 

"Ok, what is your point?" asked Marco.

 

"This building used to be a Montana National Guard Armory. Big one as well. Looks pretty trashed doesn't it?" Dave asked.

 

"Fair bit yes, but I'm gathering you found that is not the case?" Polo asked back.

 

"Very much so, follow me," Dave said as he guided Marco and Polo into the depth of the Guard Armory. After they crawled through burnt out vehicles, barricades, a few traps, and then somehow wiggled their way into the Armory they were treated to something of a sight. Rack after rack of pristine dust covered rifles, light machine guns, and other weapons. "It gets better," Dave said.

 

"Really?" Polo asked.

 

"Next room has four working humvees, two of them are mounted with Ma Dueces," replied Dave.

 

"Definitely better," Marco coughed. "Anything else?"

 

"Armor, helmets, radios, and a full machine shop with spare parts, drive trains, engines, and the works."

 

"Christ, just this morning we were looking at being wiped out. Not anymore eh?" Polo asked.

 

"No, this definitely changes everything, we need to make some decisions fast. The Freebooters are dug in deeply in Big Timbers. We need to distribute weapons, equipment, and vehicles. We can't let them sit here too long digging in even deeper," Marco observed.

 

"Bikers are reporting that there are small groups of Freebooters to the south and east. They look like they are scouting and scavenging. No other large formations, I think we have the lot of them penned up here," Polo informed the other two.

 

"Ok, those humvees with the Ma Dueces need to be deployed as quickly as we can get fuel in them and men to man them. Strip two crews out of War Wagons. I want those Ma Dueces and the Doggers nibbling away at the Freebooters by nightfall. The Heavy can go in with a few fillers in whatever Gun Truck isn't about to fall to pieces. Same orders, nibble away and don't let the Freebooters get too comfortable," Marco ordered.

 

"Anything else?" Dave asked.

 

"Pull the rest of the Gun Trucks in, have their Engines pulled and replaced. They are dying all over the place from breakdowns. Their crews and doggers can form up into a single unit and rack out till I have further orders for them. The other two War Wagons, dump them, burn them in place and have their crews man the two remaining humvees. I want them scouting south and east with the bikers, have them shoot up as many Freebooter scavenging parties as possible," Marco concluded.

 

"That's going to get complicated," Dave noted.

 

"Fine, Dave you organize the Roadcrews and everyone else that are going to be holding this location. Keep them busy. Polo, you can head out with the Heavies and harass the Freebooters, keep in touch but use your radio sparingly. Has anyone seen or heard anything from the two trucks we sent to Bozeman?" Marco asked.

 

"No sir, but to be fair they were captured rigs, not in the best shape, they might be having mechanical issues," Polo commented.

 

"Ok, keep an eye out for them, if they don't show up by tomorrow, send a couple bikers to find them. You can handle that Dave," Marco replied.

 

Big Timber Day 2

 

Another crack of .50 caliber fire chased a few of the Freebooters out of the wrecked house they had been hiding in. This kicked off a general melee of rifle shots as the doggers unloaded on them and cut fleeing men down. A short distance away the hammering report of the 20 mm cannon thundered as the gunners blasted apart a Freebooter technical. The skirmishing had been going on since dawn and the Freebooters were not getting the better end of it.

 

Big Timber Day 3

 

With the Gun Trucks fully repaired, Marco ordered them into the engagement. Their new engines and other repairs made the crews eager to test them in battle. The new weapons mounted on the vehicles were just as welcome if not a little more. Body armor, helmets, and other items let a certain air to the Unreliables as they moved into Big Timber in strength. The Freebooters had tried to run in the night but a roving patrol of bikers and a humvee disrupted those plans.

 

Big Timber Day 4

 

Four Humvees, four gun trucks carrying five infantrymen each, a heavy weapons vehicle, an armored ambulance, three roadcrew vehicles, four heavy supply vehicles, sixteen motorcycles, and two roadcrew security techicals were waiting for the sun to rise. The two days of hard work had paid off handsomely for the Unreliables. The repairs and new equipment easily tripled the effectiveness of the unit. Further, reports indicated the freebooters were fleeing in every direction possible.

 

The two supply trucks returned with a third odd looking vehicle in their wake. Antennas were protruding from every which direction and the vehicle bore a sign that said, "Livingston Emergency Management Amateur Radio Volunteer". The man, woman, and two teenagers inside the vehicle all spoke a bizarre language that stunk of technobabble. When not thoroughly confusing everyone around them with terms like radio wave propagation, they demonstrated their ability to vastly extend the radio range of the Unreliables.

 

"Awesome, sign them up and give them an Unreliable paint job," Marco ordered. He watched with interest as the bikers were issued ammunition cans with 'repeaters' inside of them. Apparently the heavy steel of the ammo boxes would prevent damage from EMP weapons. Marco was pretty sure they likelyhood of them being nuked was slim but the boxes ought to fend off hunters just as handily as EMP bursts. The antennas intrigued him as well, copper wire camoflauged with bits of burlap and so forth. "At the very least we'll give the hunters of Montana something else to take potshots at other than stopsigns and us," Marco said as he summed up more or less what the rest of the Unreliables were thinking.

 

Big Timber Day 5

 

Twenty three Freebooters swing from the branches of the trees in a long straight line in the city park. Fires had been put out, bodies buried, and the expended munitions made good from the Guard Armory. The few injuries and repairs necessary were well in hand as Marco gave the orders for the humvees and the bikers to resume the advance east to finish what was becoming a nastier piece of business than it was before. 

 

 

[Captain Enema]

East of Big Timber

 

Marco had not expect the Freebooters to last much longer. A rough count of their losses to date was 223 confirmed dead. The intelligence gathered indicated their strength at about 400 strong. Ralph's bikers were radioing reports of small groups of Freebooters peeling off from the main column and scrambling away as fast as they could travel. No one was terribly surprised when a battered Toyota Hilux covered in white flags approached Unreliables 1. Marco called out the order, "Keep a .50 trained on them, but no one open fire unless they try something stupid."

 

Polo, sitting in Unreliables 1, passed the order to Unreliables 2, and ordered the driver of Unreliable 1 to pull off to the side to allow Unreliables 2 to move forward to bring its .50 caliber to bear. Polo then climbed out of Unreliables 1 and moved forward on foot and motioned for the slowly moving Toyota to stop. The driver of the Toyota did so and then climbed out of the truck. He moved forward, pulled up his jacket and turned around to show he was unarmed. Polo motioned him forward and at the distance of 30 feet he told him to say what he came to say and not to approach any closer. 

 

"I want to talk terms," the Freebooter shouted.

 

"What are you asking for?" Polo asked.

 

"We disarm, return to our homes, no hard feelings," the Freebooter replied.

 

"Tell me why we should do that?"

 

"Most of us left were forced into joining, the last of the inner circle were killed off in Big Timber."

 

"I don't have the authority to broker that sort of deal, but wait where you are," Polo shouted back.

 

Marco had moved up behind Unreliables 1 and was watching the exchange. He quietly called over his radio for the Unreliables to carefully and quietly move into what positions they could to better defend themselves. The engines had been running before and some of the vehicles were still moving, which Marco hoped it wouldn't tip anyone off who was watching that the Unreliables were going to ground. The doggers dismounted their vehicles and were ordered to move off the road and into the ditches where they were low to the ground and mostly out of sight. The Roadcrews drove their worktrucks right into the underbrush and dismounted with their shotguns and rifles. The Geek Squad, the new name of the radio crew, did something that took everyone by surprise.

 

One of the teenage Geek Squad members crawled onto the roof of their heavy Vepr Commander Armored Vehicle and launched a quadrotor drone. The Unreliables watched with astonishment as the drone took off and began making wide circles over the heads of the Unreliables. Marco watched and muttered, "God damn it, just when things get weird, someone goes and makes it weirder." 

 

"Can't say I disagree with you sir," Polo said as he joined Marco behind Unreliable1. 

 

"What do you think?" Marco asked.

 

"Could be legit," replied Polo.

 

"Livingston Amateur Radio Emergency Team calling Admiral Marco, over," Marco's radio squaked.

 

"Go for Geek Squad," Marco replied.

 

"Uhh, yes, I think you should know that aerial team Livingston reports there is a large column of vehicles just around the corner and that what appears to be a large number of  people are moving from the vehicles and into the woods, over."

 

"Keep an eye on it and let me know if it changes, over," replied Marco.

 

"They could be getting under cover," Polo said. 

 

Marco looked out at the waiting Freebooter and said nothing for what seemed like forever. The rumble of engines and moving vehicles slowly faded as the last of the Unreliables took cover. "Ok, it's their last long shot. I think they are going to try to hit us from the side while their emissary negotiates. Get Dave to coordinate with the Geek Squad on getting the direction the Freebooters are heading and have him redeploy the doggers accordingly. Have Unreliables 4 move back and take up a position to the rear where it can cover the Roadcrews and the rest of the cooks and bakers with its .50," Marco ordered. 

 

"Copy that," Polo replied as he sprinted off. 

 

Marco turned and looked at the Freebooter in the middle of the road who suddenly sprinted off the road and dived into the bushes. Seconds later the Freebooters where swarming in from the south with whatever weapon they had at their disposal blazing. The Unreliables returned the favor with a firestorm of 7.62 x 51, 5.56, and .50 caliber fire that sliced through the Freebooter ranks like a cutting torch through cheap steal. Not all of the Freebooters where cut down, enough made it into the Unreliables ranks that before anyone could react a general scrum of hand to hand fighting broke out.

 

Up and down the lines Unreliables and Freebooters traded whatever shots they could as the fighting grew ever so swiftly to be a very deadly up close and personal affair. Marco and Polo found themselves fighting side by side as they attempted to regain control of the situation. "Shotguns!" Polo shouted.

 

"What?" Marco asked back.

 

"Shotguns, the Roadcrews are in it."

 

"Christ on a crutch," shouted Marco as he dodged an advancing Freebooter and shot him in the back as he went by. Polo stopped trading blows with his opponent long enough to draw out his knife and plant it in the Freebooter's stomach. 

 

"For messing up my face, I'm gonna let you die slow," Polo whispered savagely to the Freebooter's pain contorted face.

 

"Stop asking for phone numbers and let's go," Marco shouted as he grabbed Polo by the shoulder and drug him to his feet. 

 

While things were busy for Marco and Polo, Dave was having his own busy day. He and the doggers from Unreliables 5 and 6 were fighting it out with four times their number of Freebooters. Dave and the doggers weren't alone in their efforts, the Roadcrews were helping out the best they could. As Dave and his men fought, the booming of the Roadcrew's shotguns filled the air. A short distance away Dave snatched a glimpse of one of the Geeksquad using something looked a lot like a large mace to smash a Freebooter's skull. 

 

Before anyone knew it, the sound of fighting was replaced by the screams of the wounded. Dave, Marco, and Polo met in the middle of the Unreliables formation and held an impromptu and very rushed meeting. "Get everyone in their vehicles, we gotta move," Marco ordered.

 

"Copy that," Dave replied as he limped off to get the doggers and Guntrucks back on the road. 

 

"We took some hits, shouldn't we rest up?" Polo asked.

 

"We will, in a little bit, just around the corner is every single one of their vehicles. We take those, the Freebooters are on foot," Marco replied.

 

"Let's go then, I'll get Unreliables 1 and 2 moving," Polo said as he too limped off. 

 

"Right, yall keep me advised," Marco shouted as he limped over to the Geeksquad's Vepr to check out the gigantic mace one of them was carrying.

 

Two hours later

 

"Good news, 3 dead, 11 wounded. No critical cases. Our medical detachment is getting better at their work," Dave reported.

 

"We checked every single one of the Freebooter vehicles, put a .50 caliber round through their engine blocks, and have stripped anything we can use out of them, mostly food and liquor," Polo reported.

 

"We have several Freebooter prisoners. They are all saying the same thing. There is a massive haven of Freebooters farther east, I'll show you all on the map later," Marco informed as he hoisted a coffee mug full of Jack Daniels. 

 

"How big?" asked Dave.

 

"Too big for us to handle without help," replied Marco.

 

"Sir," one of the Geeksquad members said as he ran up.

 

"Yes?" Marco asked.

 

"Tanks carrying Cascadian colors are approaching, I sent my drone west to see what was behind us and there they were," the Geeksquader replied.

 

"Boy, what's your name?" Polo asked.

 

"Retard," Retard replied.

 

"Why the hell would you let anyone call you a name like that?" asked Dave.

 

"When you are as smart as I am its a compliment," replied Retard.

 

"Ah, you make everyone look like a retard," Marco observed.

 

"Welp, let's lay out the fine china and liquor, looks like we are going to have guests for dinner," Dave noted.

 

"Oh good, I've been dying to see how my new codpiece looks with a tux," Retard said as he scrambled away.

 

"Codpiece?" Polo, Marco, and Dave asked simultaneously. 

[Captain Enema]

South Montana Militia

 

The South Montana Militia had hit hard times. The Freebooters, raiders, criminals, and life itself had winnowed their ranks mercilessly. Still, what started out as a fifty man and woman force had been carved and pared down to twelve highly skilled militia men in three armored technicals. Their vehicles were in good condition and armored, which proved useful to them time and time again. They watched recent fight between the Freebooters and the Unreliables from the distance and decided to approach the Unreliables to offer their services.

 

Dangerous was what Marco thought when he laid eyes on the lot of them, but he wasn't in a position to be too picky, his own ranks had been somewhat winnowed and he needed replacements. He watched the Militia Men go through their movements as they demonstrated their capabilities and they did so with great skill and confidence won through what appeared to be hard fighting. Captain Clark, the Militia Captain, outlined his unit's history and Marco's suspicions about them being veterans of hard fighting was confirmed. Marco considered the situation for a few minutes before saying, "The Unreliables has a fairly lax policy on volunteering and un-volunteering. We ask that neither take place when we are getting shot at, tends to confuse the issue."

 

"I can understand that," replied Captain Clark.

 

"What I really need is someone to protect and guard my Roadcrews and Geeksquad," Marco said as he watched Captain Clark carefully.

 

"I'm sure you do, don't think I'm the person for it though," Captain Clark offered back.

 

"Where do you see yourself in my organization?"

 

"At the sharp edge of things."

 

"A suggestion if I may?" asked Dave.

 

"Speak your mind," Marco ordered.

 

"If they are willing to trade vehicles we could pull the men of Gun Trucks 2 and 3. They are short manned and half the remaining crewmen are wounded," suggested Dave.

 

"How many men to man a Guntruck?" asked Captain Clark.

 

"Five doggers, three crew, still leaving us with the original problem of the two Gun Trucks being undermanned," Marco said with a frown.

 

"I think I might know where you can find some more men," Captain Clark offered.

 

"Trained men?" asked Marco.

 

"Highly trained, yet a bit colorful," replied Captain Clark.

 

"I'm interested, do go on."

 

"Well, the call themselves the Mariachi Militia..."

 

Later...

 

Marco watched and laughed as the men of Guntruck 4 filled the air with the sounds of La Cucaracha from their new installed horn. The Mariachi Militia joined up nearly immediately and the swarthy hard fighting short brown men of the unit mixed well with the assortment of colorful characters that made up the Unreliables. The new men had brought the Unreliables up to full strength and then some as the dogger teams grew to six men rather than their previous strength of five. The additional man being a Mexican with a .300 Win Mag rifle and a high measure of proficiency in using that rifle. With them came two more Gun Trucks, a fuel tanker, a food truck, and a supply vehicle that were in excellent repair and in someways superior to the Unreliables vehicles due to numerous well thought out features. Sure jokes were told about the Unreliables having its own crew for apple picking but the Mariachi Militia soon demonstrated its worth by dropping several stray cows at long range.

 

Certainly, no one saw fit to be the one who complained about fresh meat for dinner. 

 

The Unreliables were growing by the day with their current numbers at four humvees, six Gun Trucks, a heavy weapons Gun Truck, five security technicals, twelve bikers, three roadcrew vehicles, an ambulance, the Geeksquad Vepr, a newly acquired fuel tanker, food truck, and five supply vehicles. Even with the new additions, Marco wasn't in a hurry, he was waiting for the Cascadians to catch up with him and until they did he was content with slowly moving east and using the time to drill the Unreliables and to forge them into a tighter unit. 

Edited November 3, 2014 by Tidy Bowl Man

[Dillon1102]

After 20 miles of heading east and finding no encounters the tank division that had originally been sent out was called back. Although with continued reports of fighting east a lone tank company was patched together to find how Far East these 'Unreliables' were. The company consisted of 300 fighting men, their CTVs, along with a handful of LAV-25s, and seven pristine leopard 2A5s.

The tank company, led by a one, Major Foch, hurtled across the desert. The were certainly in a hurry to catch up with the unreliables as soon as possible. Every three hours a small handheld drown would be released and flown ahead of the convoy to warn against any hostile movements. Everynow and then the company would come across a small township that was being held by some militia and the company would detour to ward them off.

Eventually the company came to the town of Big Timber. At first glance it was easy to tell there had been a large battle in the area. Bullet holes in cars, debris everywhere, no citizens. After awhile it was decided to camp outside the city and tomorrow they would catch up with the unreliables. The company moved out and west of the city where they created a tight perimeter.

[Captain Enema]

The Unreliables were exhausted and Marco knew it. With that in mind he picked a small abandoned 'village' and ordered them to set up a camp. Patrols were sent out and vehicle repairs were performed. Beyond that, most of the men collapsed where they found a decent place to sleep and did just that for ten to twelve hours. As they slept, a few of the Mariachi Unreliables found a few wandering cows, shot them, and dressed them. As the men snored and farted their way through the day the cows were roasted over a fire. Once the men started waking up they were greeted to a long buffet table of steaks, beer, bread, salad, and liquor. 

 

Lots of liquor.

 

While the men drank, ate, and rested, Marco and a handpicked team stood watch. Sure they enjoyed a drink and a heaping plate a food, but their eyes were riveted on the perimeter from behind the grips of their vehicle mounted weapons. After a few hours of carousing the order when out to return all hard liquor still in the bottles to be returned to stores. The beer was left for the men to finish and they were ordered to go back to bed for more sleep. 

Edited November 5, 2014 by Tidy Bowl Man