The Last War: 369.

[Bernard Woolley]

With thanks to Jotun.

*

D+28

*

0632 hours. HMS Fearless, off Broadstairs, Kent.
The LPD was now closed up for action with all her guns manned. As the only ship with a SAM system, HMS Avenger had positioned herself up threat. In her role as a trials vessel, the frigate had been fitted with the GWS.27 Lightweight Sea Wolf system in place of the obsolete GWS.24 Sea Cat. The frigate would be able to engage the incoming Su-34s before they were able to attack the warships. However, Avenger only had four missiles ready to fire and there would be no time to reload.

Commander Holden downed the last of his coffee before stowing the mug safely below his bridge chair. He pulled up his flash-hood and put on both protective gloves. Like his ship, Holden was as ready as he could be.

“Avenger is firing, Sir!” The Officer Of the Watch reported.

Holden turned just in time to see the first Sea Wolf missile streaking away from the Type 21 frigate. He raised his binoculars and could just make out four dark dots above the horizon. They very rapidly resolved themselves into aircraft shapes.

“Wouldn’t have minded some of those myself.” He muttered, reflecting on the fact that the Lightweight Sea Wolf system used a modified Sea Cat launcher, meaning Fearless could have been fitted with the system.

With the first missile well on its way, Avenger engaged a second target. The formation of ‘Fullbacks’ had not expected to run into any warships in the area where the North Sea became the English Channel, so being shot at was a definite surprise. The first Sea Wolf had almost reached its target before the Su-34’s pilot had begun to react, at which point it was too late. The second ‘Fullback’ crew had slightly longer to react, but it was also too late for them.

“A nice bit of shooting. Two for two.” Holden commented.

Avenger had not rested on her laurels and fired her two remaining Sea Wolf missiles. She was not as successful this time, only scoring one kill.

*

The senior surviving Soviet pilot, having just managed to avoid being killed by a missile, decided that the three warships in front of him were more worthy targets of his bombs than some docks. He radioed the other two aircraft, ordering them to attack the largest of the three vessels. The three ‘Fullbacks’ spread out and began their attack runs.

*

“Sound the collision alarm!” Holden ordered. He picked up the microphone handset by his chair. “All hands, this is the Captain. Brace for impact! Brace! Brace! Brace!”

As the Soviet aircraft closed, Avenger engaged with her Mk.8 cannon, pumping out 114mm H.E rounds at a rate of twenty-five a minute. Tay joined in a moment later, opening fire with her 76mm cannon. One of the two ships got lucky, a Su-34 tumbling toward the sea after its port wing was shorn off by shell fragments. Its crew ejecting seconds before it slammed into the water.

Holden did not have any time to think about the fate of the Soviet airmen, as there were still two hostile aircraft bearing down on his ship. He could think about rescue efforts when Fearless was safe.

“Weapons free! Engage when in range!” He ordered.

Avenger and Tay continued to fire their man guns, the frigate adding her two starboard 20mm Oerlikon mounts to the weight of fire. Tay just had enough time to fire a few bursts from her GPMG and Minigun mounts before the two Su-34s were past her. While none of this gunfire came close to hitting either aircraft, it did distract both pilots, causing them to lose focus at a crucial moment.

Meanwhile Fearless’ starboard twin GCM-A 30mm mount and the 20mm GAM-B01 cannon on the bridge wing had opened fire. However, it was the starboard Phalanx CIWS mount that proved to be crucial. As both ‘Fullbacks’ climbed to toss their bombs it opened fire, chopping one of the Soviet aircraft in half. The other banked hard to port, spoiling its aim entirely. Its load of FAB-500 bomb flew over the LPD’s stern, before landing in the sea around two hundred meters away.

Holden gave a sigh of relief, realising that he had been holding his breath for the last few seconds. He watched the final Su-34 as it escaped to the northeast, chased by shell-bursts from the two escorts.

“Stand-down from Action Stations.” He ordered. “But maintain Defence Watch. And signal JACWA South; report engaging six enemy aircraft and shooting down five. We’re currently conducting SAR operations and request assistance.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”

By the time the three warships had stopped and launched their boats to search for downed aircrew a Sea King HAR.3 was taking off from RAF Manston to assist. A second helicopter was scrambled from RAF Coltishall to join the rescue operation. Five wet and bedraggled Soviet aircrew would be pulled from the Channel and flown to hospital for treatment.

0801 hours GMT. 121st Long Range Aviation Regiment, Machulishchy, Belarusian SSR.
“…what a devious bastard. … Ёб твою мать! Comrade Colonel, I found out what happened. Well, generally speaking. But the result is quite unequivocal.”

The middle-aged captain of the KGB’s Second Chief Directorate looked over his shoulder at his superior officer from an array of computers and testing equipment hooked up to a Kh-22 missile in one of the ordnance bunkers of the air base.

“Somebody with an absolutely remarkable programming ability managed to turn the Kh-22 into an IED.”
The colonel grunted. “So, it IS sabotage.”
“Yes. It is almost a work of art. I would struggle to come up with something that is half as good.”
“Am I hearing this correctly, COMRADE Captain? You are admiring a direct act of sabotage and terrorism that killed dozens of aircrews and weakened our military capacity?” The staff officer bristled.

The captain, a somewhat pudgy and sallow-skinned information technology specialist, just shrugged. He was used to the abrasiveness and short temper of his boss. What a dick he was.

“Programming at the highest level is an art form, Comrade Colonel. It is something with its own aesthetic, much like higher mathematics or musical composition on the level of Mozart or Tchaikovsky. The perp…excuse me, the saboteur.” He said placatingly upon seeing the warning look on the colonel’s face. “Could have brute-forced an explosion, but it stands to reason that the coding would not have passed even a cursory inspection of the programming. Because everything is checked independently.
“No, the saboteur hid the code cleverly and managed to have it circumvent the usual firing processes, bypassed every safety measure such as the accelerometer, which was set to the Kh-22’s terminal diving velocity while the targeting package was deleted and overwritten so the firing circuit basically thought it was at the intended target the moment the launch signal was sent from the cockpit.
“This…malware…was distributed with the last software update which means that at least two complete fresh tranches of Kh-22s were infected.”
“Am I correct in assuming we are dealing with somebody who graduated their computer science class with honours? That would narrow down the circle of suspects…” The colonel looked pensive.

His subordinate carefully cultivated an impassive face and nodded assent.

Maksims Daniilovich, it seems you finally went through with it. Should have known better than to doubt you last time we met.

Out loud, he said. “Yes, Comrade Colonel. I’d wager it is somebody within the top 100 programmers in the Union. And I doubt there is more than one or two of those at Raduga. He is likely a sub department head or even the department head himself. Of programming. Nobody else could have assured the dissemination of the altered software. Nobody.”

Please forgive me, but you told me it is what you want…

“Thank you, Captain. Please wrap up the investigation and prepare the report. I’ll take over from here. The saboteur is mine.” The senior officer unconsciously fingered the pistol on his belt. He strode off purposefully.

Off he struts, the peacock, murder in his eyes. I almost wish I knew what exactly is in store for him.

He waved at his small team of technicians and told them to pack up the portable computers and other equipment.

“Load the stuff into the truck when you are finished. I am going for an urgent sit-down in the local porcelain department.”

Ten minutes later, he strode through a corridor of the staff building. It had numerous office doors on both sides. He had “lost his way” on the way back from the loo and was unobtrusively looking for an empty office. There. He looked up and down the corridor, knocked on the half-shut door to make sure it really was unoccupied, entered, shut the door, and made a beeline to the telephone.

He picked up the receiver and entered a series of numbers he knew by heart, bypassing the local switchboard. He then dialled another number, this one located in Moscow Oblast.

After a few rings, somebody answered on the other end of the connection.

“Yes?”
“Good day, comrade. Am I speaking to the Russian Orthodox Horse Bathing Facility? My Budenny horse shed its track.”
“No, sir. This is the Communist Party of the Soviet Union’s office for the prevention of real work being done.
“Oh, sorry. I must have misdialled. Please forgive the intrusion. A good day to you.”
“No problem.” There was a short pause. Then the voice at the other end went on, with no small amount of feeling, “Thank you very much. Godspeed.”
Click. Connection terminated.

The Captain wiped down the phone and receiver. Then he wiped his sleeve across his eyes. That’s that, then. He composed himself, then walked out of the office as if he belonged there. He had his work cut out for him. It was time to honour his adopted cousin’s sacrifice.

0914 hours GMT. Southwest of Kaunas, Lithuanian SSR.
The commander of the SAD/SOG team grasped his AKS-74U tightly in anticipation. He was not a particular fan of the carbine, preferring the Mk.18 he had used when he had been a SEAL. However, when operating within the USSR it made sense to use a Soviet weapon. Once again, the four-man CIA team had linked up with a group of Lithuanian partisans.

“Vehicles are approaching!” One of the partisans called out.
“Sid, get the spikes ready!” The SAD/SOG commander ordered one of his men.

The other CIA man threw a spike strip across the road, before returning to cover. The small vehicle convoy, consisting of a UAZ jeep containing soldiers from the Commandant’s Service, leading a pair of URAL trucks approached. Oblivious to the spike strip, all three vehicles drove over the spikes, puncturing their tyres. The vehicles skidded to a halt, their puzzled drivers getting out to examine the wheels.

“On the ground! Now!” The SAD/SOG commander yelled, jumping up from his hiding place. “Drop those guns! Do it now!”

The shocked Soviet soldiers did as they were ordered. The CIA men kicking their guns away and securing them with plastic ties. Meanwhile the partisans removed several wooden boxes from the trucks. The senior partisan opened one in the presence of the SAD/SOG commander.

“Here you go. Something for your trouble!” He said with a chuckle, handing the American a wad of Ruble bank notes. “This money certainly won’t be going to their soldiers.”

The two trucks had been carrying the pay rolls of several Soviet Army and MVD Internal Troops units based in southern Lithuania. The partisans intended to steal as much as they could carry with the intention of ‘re-distributing’ it to ordinary Lithuanians. What they could not take with them would be burned. Since the operation was in essence a robbery, it had been agreed that unless they resisted no Soviet personnel would be killed.

The partisans scattered what money they could not take with them across the beds of the two trucks before throwing in an incendiary grenade. Both vehicles quickly caught fire. The Commandant’s Service soldiers and drivers were stripped of the ammunition they were carrying, along with anything useful. The UAZ also being set on fire. The spike strip set was repositioned to catch any responding vehicles from the MVD or Militsiya.

“Okay, guys, let’s go.” The SAD/SOG team commander told his men. “We’ll meet at the next scheduled RV to plan the next op.” He said to the senior partisan.

Both teams had melted into the countryside well before any Soviet security forces arrived on the scene of the robbery. As nobody had through to record the serial numbers on the money, introduction of the stolen notes into the local economy would go unnoticed.

1045 hours. HMS Eaglet, Liverpool, England.
Handing over HMS Dovey and arranging travel warrants for himself and the crew had taken a lot longer than Lieutenant Ladd would have liked. His warrant would grant him rail travel back to London, while those issued to the other sailors would take them to Dartmouth. By the time everything was sorted out, the only choices were to spend the night at HMS Caledonia or catch the Sleeper from Inverkeithing. Keen to get back to his day job, Ladd had decided on the latter option.

Ladd had been hoping to catch up on some much-needed sleep, so he had been less than pleased to be awakened at Crewe and made to get off the train because a naval officer wanted to speak to him. A lieutenant commander who introduced himself as Robert Burnett from Headquarters, Naval Regional Command Northern England, had told him that he and his men were needed for a job in Liverpool. What that job was had proven to be something of a surprise.

On arrival at HMS Eaglet, the navy’s headquarters in the north of England, Burnett had led Ladd, the sub-lieutenant who had served as his first lieutenant and the CPO, who had been chief engineer to the Brunswick Dock side of the H.Q. [1]

“We moved her across from the West Float in Birkenhead last week. Seemed to make sense to keep her here, rather than all the way over the other side of the river.” Burnett said as he led the three men to the ship he was talking about.
“Ah, that’s Bronington isn’t it?” Ladd asked on seeing the ship for the first time.

Burnett nodded.

“HMS Bronington, Lieutenant. We raised the White Ensign over her two days ago.”

Ladd’s heart sank. He had an awful feeling that Burnett was going to ask him to take command of the elderly Ton class minehunter. One hundred and eighteen; one hundred and nineteen if the GRP hulled ship Wilton was included; Ton class vessels had been built for the Royal Navy and eight other navies. The last wooden-hulled ships built for the Royal Navy, three other Tons survived, including one still in service with the Royal Malaysian Navy as a coastal survey vessel.

“The preservation trust never really had enough money to keep her and the other ships in good condition. Well, at least until they gained a couple of generous benefactors last year.” Burnett continued. He consulted some paperwork he was carrying. “A Mr Robert Norman and Mr Michael O’Donohoe made regular and generous contributions to the trust, on the condition that the money was spent on Bronington and Plymouth, rather than any of the other vessels in the collection. These two gentlemen decided to remain largely anonymous and delt with the trust via a firm of local lawyers. They were also very helpful when it came to sourcing spare parts for both vessels. They seemed to have some very good contacts.” He said, with a very non-nautical wink.

Ladd smiled and chuckled.

“An interesting set of initials those two gentlemen have, Sir.” He said. “I feel I may have worked for them at some point.”
“I think we all have, Lieutenant.” Burnett agreed. “Anyway, we need you and your team to take over Bronington and get her worked up. You’ll find that she’s in pretty good condition; the trust volunteers did a good job once they had a regular income stream. Quite what we’re going to do with her, we don’t quite know yet, but she is still more than capable of hunting mines. She’d also be a handy supplement to the patrol vessels we have based in the Mersey.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it, Lieutenant. I’ve got to take my turn on Biter. It’s all hands to the pump!”

As Burnett spoke the small patrol vessel came alongside and tied up. While she was refuelled, the crew would be swapped over before Biter would sail again. An evolution that would take no more than half an hour.

With the departure of Burnett, Ladd, the sub-lieutenant, and the CPO boarded Bronington. He was pleasantly surprised to see how good condition she was in.

“You know much about Tons, Chief?” Ladd asked the CPO.
“Was on Wilton during her last commission, Sir. She might have been made out of plastic, but engineering wise she was identical to her wooden sisters. Mind if I go below and take a look at her engines?”
“Go ahead, Chief.”

Ladd and the sub-lieutenant went below, both men being impressed with how well maintained everything was. The members of the preservation trust had taken great care of Bronington, especially once they had enough money to do it properly. While was studying the mine hunting sonar Ladd felt the ship begin to rumble and vibrate.

“Looks like the Chief has managed to get at least one of the engines started, Sub.” He said with a smile. “He’ll be in his element.”

1131 hours GMT. Paradise, Massachusetts, USA.
The Paradise Police Department’s station had been an imposing red brick building. Now it was a pile of scorched rubble and brick dust, with barely one brick on top of another. Oddly, one of the out of service police cruisers had survived better. Yes, it was a distorted shell, but it was still recognisable as once having been a car.

“You know we haven’t been able to find any members of the Town Council other than Carter Hanson and he’s on his way to St. Eligius, Jesse.” Fire Chief Brooks observed. “Looks like your station is as bad a mine.”

The Paradise Volunteer Fire Department’s fire house sat almost diagonally opposite the police station. Or, at least it had, as the building had also ceased to exist.

“I hope you’re not suggesting that I’m in charge, Lester.” Police Chief Stone replied.
“Well, who else is there, Jesse?” Brooks asked rhetorically. “The Town Council are probably all dead, other than Hanson. Somebody has to take charge of things.”

Stone sighed.

“Okay, but only until either we find someone from the council, or Carter Hanson comes back from the hospital.”

Brooks smiled.

“Jesse! Jesse!” A familiar voice shouted in the distance.
“Sunny? What are you doing here?”

Randall hugged Stone. The two had once been an ‘item’ but had separated on good terms and remained close friends.

“Checking up on you! Brought Spenser here with me too.” She replied, nodding towards her companion.
“Good to see you both back in honest employment.” Stone observed. “Shaking Spenser’s hand. “Tell me, where’s your big bald friend?”
“Hawk had to stay behind in Boston. However, he sends his regards.” Spenser replied.
“Does he indeed. Heard he was a military cop now.”

Stone took a moment to look at the ruins around him.

“Damn I can do with a drink.” He said sadly. “Half the town is in ruins and don’t have a handle on casualties yet, but they must be in the hundreds. Makes me wonder if Paradise will ever recover from this.”
“It’ll take time, Jesse, but Paradise will rebuild and recover.” Randall offered.
“I do hope so, Sunny.” Stone replied, offering his first smile in a long time.

1301 hours GMT. Near Cremlingen, FRG.
It was quite impressive, Squadron Leader Squadron Leader Richard Jameson thought, that IV (AC) Squadron could still field eight aircraft for a single mission. At the start of the war, it had been sixteen aircraft strong. It was now down to twelve Harriers, including five replacements, plus a single two-seat T.12A. Jameson was one of a number of pilots who had been shot down once and returned to duty. He had heard that there was a pilot in No.3 Squadron, their sister unit, who had been shot down twice and was still flying.

*

The squadron had been given the task of hitting the important road junction at Cremlingen. Soviet reserves had been reported passing through the area on their way to counterattack 1 (Br) Corps. A week ago, the Harriers would have simply loaded up with Brimstone missiles and conducted a devastating stand-off attack. However, Brimstones were in short supply, which meant that only a two Harriers in the group, Jameson’s included, carried any of the missiles and only four each. Two others had a pair of AGM-65 as an alternative to Brimstones, with the remaining pylons carrying CRV7 rockets. The other four aircraft had been armed with 1,000lb ‘iron bombs; consideration had been given to arming them with BL755, however the army had requested that no cluster bombs be used, as they planned to advance through the area that would be attacked.

The missile and rocket armed Harriers would attack first, hitting any remaining air defences and hopefully blocking the road. The bomb armed quartet would then make a pair of glide-bombing attacks from medium altitude. [2]

*

As Robinson and his wingman passed the Initial Point, he armed his weapons. Pulling up slightly he fired off the four Brimstones the Harrier was armed with, turning away once they were clear. The two aircraft now approached the target area at an oblique angle to the approach of the missiles. Robinson spotted several explosions in the distance ahead of him, as Brimstones and Mavericks reached their target. Once again, he pulled the Harrier’s nose up and let fly with CRV7 rockets, before banking to port and diving, putting him and his wingman in a course away from the next pair of Harriers to attack.

*

“Don’t need these.” Captain Haig muttered, lowering his binoculars.

The junction and roads around it were now a sea of burning Soviet armoured vehicles. And that was even before the glide bombing attack that followed. In total the attack had wrecked two tank battalions, inflicted serious loss on the rest of the tank regiment and blocked the road.

“Looks like we’ll need the engineers if we want to use the roads round here.” Haig observed.

His prediction was right on the money. When the rest of the Scots DG battle group caught up to the reconnaissance troop, they found that both roads that led east to Helmstedt were blocked by still smouldering wreckage. Advancing cross-country was an option for the battle group’s Challenger 2s, Warriors and other tracked vehicles. However, it would be a different matter for the supporting wheeled vehicles.

With the route east being important for the whole division, never mind 7th Armoured Brigade, or the Scots DG battle group, divisional and corps engineers were brought forward, along with RLC Pioneers. There was no time for anything fancy, wrecked Soviet armoured vehicles were simply bulldozed to either side of the road, creating a path on either side. Burying bodies, clearing them of dangerous ordnance and checking for any useful intelligence would need to wait for later.

While the engineers and pioneers worked to clear the roads, reconnaissance troops searched for alternative axis of advance. Both the division and corps commanders wanted to keep pushing east and not allow the Soviets and East Germans a chance to recover.

***
[1] The following units were based at HMS Eaglet

- Headquarters, Naval Regional Command Northern England
-- Naval Regional Commander, Northern England, and Isle of Man
- Headquarters, Royal Marine Reserve Merseyside
- Liverpool University Royal Naval Unit
- HMS Biter (P270) (Manchester & Salford URNU)
- HMS Charger (P292) (Liverpool URNU)
On mobilisation it became the Port H.Q for Liverpool.

[2] Harriers used that method to accurately deliver unguided 1,000lb bombs during operations over Kosovo in @.

[Bernard Woolley]

Accompanying Pictures

[Johnnie Lyle]

The Paradise scene brought back some memories. While it looks like the fires are getting knocked back, it’s still a hell of a mess, with lots of secondary knock-on effects in play (evac shelters and their attendant problems, air quality, figuring out who’s still alive and where).

The attack on FEARLESS certainly got my attention. The bait and switch twist on the foreshadowing in -368 was nicely done.

On to 370!

[jemhouston]

Docks normally don't shoot back.

Good update.

[Johnnie Lyle]

Docks normally don't shoot back.

Good update.

They’re British docks, though. They probably have the same genteel but nasty disposition as everything else on that island

[Eaglenine2]

I see spooky things are afoot.

[Matt Wiser]

It lives! BZ to you and Jotun, and nice work, both of you. And so to business:

I'm surprised Fearless and her escort got off so easily. but if the Soviets had been carrying AS-14s, -17s, or 20s, different story.

That saboteur is now on the run from the KGB, and you can bet the GRU also will go for him. But they know how it was done.

So, an armed robbery of a Soviet military payroll.. Not quite Kelly's Heroes (that'll come for the East Berlin State Bank, maybe), but troopers not getting paid is bound to cause some trouble....

Things in Paradise are going to be iffy for a while, in terms of who's in charge.

PGM shortages all over, and they will be biting for quite a while.

Good work as usual, and get with 370!

[Johnnie Lyle]

Things in Paradise are going to be iffy for a while, in terms of who's in charge.

From personal experience during Paradise and other California disasters, it’s going to be the people everyone else will follow, whatever their nominal rank.

[jemhouston]

Docks normally don't shoot back.

Good update.

They’re British docks, though. They probably have the same genteel but nasty disposition as everything else on that island

If they were Irish docks, they do shoot back. Then hide the guns.

[Jotun]

New chapter, yay!

Happy to help, as usual. As an aside, the part I contributed ended up VERY different from what I had mapped out in my mind. I figured that for terrorism/sabotage etc. to have a chance to be successful in a totalitarian surveillance state, it would have to be a lone wolf whose support structure is completely incidental, disparate and casual so there is no pattern, no strings for the KGB to pick up and act upon. So the midlevel KGB IT guy turned out to be one of the unnamed programmer's accomplices. I was surprised myself. The code phrases the two men used are based on the nonsense my best friend and I tell each other on the phone and when we are having a brew or twelve. Hope y'all liked it...

Anyway...

A few years down the line, the crews of HMS Fearless, Avenger and Tay are going to reminisce about the "North Sea Turkey Shoot" or whatever it is Brits shoot at when it is hunting season

Am I interpreting correctly that the SAG team aims to induce localized inflation in Lithuania? If so, that is an elegant way of sowing even more discord.

The Brits are quite close to the IGB. Is this just a temporary penetration or (hopefully) a sign of a general move eastwards by NORTHAG?

[Paul Nuttall]

How long could that kind of sabotage lurk for?

Would it be picked up in an inspection?

I assume a live fire exercise would reveal it......

[trekchu]

Given that we're dealing with the Soviet Union, on top of it being wartime, I am not at all surprised that this was missed somewhere along the line.

[Jotun]

How long could that kind of sabotage lurk for?

Would it be picked up in an inspection?

I assume a live fire exercise would reveal it......

I thought that the programmer needed some time to work out how he would go about it (this will have taken a longer time, maybe years), to write the code, try it out clandestinely in a dry run as part of an i spection or so and to work up the courage. The war is four weeks old, I think this is a reasonable amount of time for things to go boom. Most of the older missile stocks will also have been used up, like in the west, and the patest two batches carried the malware.

[Johnnie Lyle]

That lightweight Sea Wolf is a neat bit of kit.

[Bernard Woolley]

While it looks like the fires are getting knocked back, it’s still a hell of a mess, with lots of secondary knock-on effects in play (evac shelters and their attendant problems, air quality, figuring out who’s still alive and where).

I think Chief Stone is right to be worried about the future of the town. It's been wrecked & people might not want to return.

The attack on FEARLESS certainly got my attention. The bait and switch twist on the foreshadowing in -368 was nicely done.

Always enjoy surprising my readership!

Good update.

Thanks very much.

I see spooky things are afoot.

Been reading about the Forest Brothers in the Baltic States recently. Robbing the Soviet occupiers and doing a bit of Robin Hood like redistribution was something they did.

I'm surprised Fearless and her escort got off so easily. but if the Soviets had been carrying AS-14s, -17s, or 20s, different story.

PGM shortages all over, and they will be biting for quite a while.

PGM shortages are impacting on both sides. Means both sides are having to make more use of 'dumb bombs'.

So, an armed robbery of a Soviet military payroll.. Not quite Kelly's Heroes (that'll come for the East Berlin State Bank, maybe), but troopers not getting paid is bound to cause some trouble....

It's going to cause them a bit of trouble. Unpaid soldiers are unhappy soldiers.

A few years down the line, the crews of HMS Fearless, Avenger and Tay are going to reminisce about the "North Sea Turkey Shoot" or whatever it is Brits shoot at when it is hunting season

Grouse or pheasant, I think.

Am I interpreting correctly that the SAG team aims to induce localized inflation in Lithuania? If so, that is an elegant way of sowing even more discord.

Wasn't something I had thought of, to be honest. Simply a case of making sure that local Soviet troops don't get paid & locals without enough money get a bit of a boost. Inducing inflation would hurt locals.

The Brits are quite close to the IGB. Is this just a temporary penetration or (hopefully) a sign of a general move eastwards by NORTHAG?

No comment.

That lightweight Sea Wolf is a neat bit of kit.

It was. Plans prior to it being cancelled in the early '90s would have seen it fitted to the Type 42 Batch 3 and the three Invincible class CVS. Theoretically, any ships that had been fitted with Sea Cat could have had LWT Sea Wolf.

[Johnnie Lyle]

While it looks like the fires are getting knocked back, it’s still a hell of a mess, with lots of secondary knock-on effects in play (evac shelters and their attendant problems, air quality, figuring out who’s still alive and where).

I think Chief Stone is right to be worried about the future of the town. It's been wrecked & people might not want to return.

That’s a reasonable concern, and certainly a major one facing @Paradise in 2018-2019. Certainly many of the residents are going to need temporary housing, and many of them (and the communities that house them) may choose to put down roots in their new places. Especially if post-war reconstruction projects, funding and wheel-greasing in the area are not limited to Paradise. Again, that matches the @Paradise (except for the assholes in Chico). However, the fears did not really pan out. Population dropped from approximately ~30,000 in 2018 to ~4,500 in 2020, but bounced back to an estimated 7,700 in 2023. People are coming back and rebuilding.

TLW Paradise has two additional factors in its favor:

1. This was a Russian attack, not a natural disaster. So while you’re going to have a lot of psychological trauma, it’s not like the population are going to fear the trees killing them.
2. Rebuilding will probably be pre-2010 or so, which means a lot of the difficulties rebuilding in @ after 2008 won’t apply.