Siege of Man

23 May, 1963
Island of Man, Kingdom of England

"You know what I see in these old hangers?" Lieutenant Colonel Kenneth Hawkins asked his assistant as he surveyed the grounds of the aging Royal Air Force base, having been placed in charge of. "In the 30s and 40s, it was the key defence of the British Isles; the linchpin of the Irish Sea," Hawkins expressed with the glee of nostalgia in his voice until his smile is brought down by the reality of the island's situation. "Now it has been left to decay. The generals and marshals in Westminister don't consider renovating the base as a top priority, and most men who sign up for the RAF consider an assignment to this small island as a sentencing to mediocrity. No names to be made at this base."

"Sir. What is there to be considered? We no longer held the same prestige as we once had. Furthermore, this is an isolated position," His assistant commented, a man with a small thinner frame compared to his slightly larger uniform. "We could destroy the bases and spotlights on the island before any of the UFN tried to capture it. Or perhaps even those of the HMMLR."

Hawkings shook his head at the suggestion. "No," He holds a form stance as he looks at another hanger. "We may be isolated from the rest of our military, surrounded on the coast with the threat of American and even HMMLR attacks. But I will not surrender this base. They could only have it over my cold corpse. They will have to bomb us into the Stone Age if they want it," Hawkins turns to his assistant. "Take out your notepad," Hawkins ordered and his assistant removed his notepad and pen and began writing. "I want a drill before any foreign attacks; get the men ready to defend the island at a moment's notice. I want forces stationed on all major overlooks towards the mainland. We'll need bunkers to defend the beaches. Finally, I want an inspection of our armory. Our weapons should not break when we need them. I want this base to be as ready for war as it was in the 1930s." Hawkins glances over at the base and its hangers. If he could divert momentum from all foreign attacks, even if for an hour, it would be enough in his eyes that will save England's and Britain's future.

31 May 1963
Lancaster, Kingdom of England

Eight days passed since the first bombs fell over England. Major northern industrial and military sectors throughout the north and middle the country began to be bombed by the UFN, with it being twelve days since the last resistance strongholds were wiped out. American pilots have partially crippled the RAF but the renewed English fighting spirit caused a call of support and a reinterpretation of Churchill's words for the modern fight against an American enemy and the exiled government in Canada.

As the day cracked, and bombs raining barely rained overhead the city of Lancaster, Leona woke up from her deep lion-like slumber. Air sirens blared out of the connected warning system, waking Leona up in a violent manner.
"Bloody... again?" She curses under her breath. She fixes her short blonde hair and glances at her alarm clock. "Shit, that's the time!" She cries out as she drops her clock. "Fuck I'm already late!" Leona rushes to get ready, mentally preparing to get an earful from the higher-ups. "If I knew I was gonna be late then I shouldn't have come here from London. At least that place I get to scam to my heart's content." She thinks to herself as she wears beige and black colored clothing, a trench coat, and a Gavroche hat. She glances and spots her favorite belt on the floor. She grabs hold of her belt and wraps it around her waist, tightening it to fit her body. "I'm in such a rush I almost forgot to put Lionelle on. Lord knows how bad things would get if I lost it." Leona comments as she rushes out the door. Stepping outside, she walks to her Vauxhall Wyvern EIX. She quickly speeds off. "Bombs rained overhead for almost eight days at this point. All those days in Liverpool ended with me not having time for proper sleep or drink. And the day I'm supposed to meet with the others of the Left Resistance is also the one I've overslept. Fuck!" Leona speeds to her destination. Arriving at a warehouse just by the river Lune. Leona promptly knocks on the warehouse door. From the knock, an eye-level slit on the door is opened. "It's Leona. The Pride has arrived." She tells the man on the other side of the door, standing proud just before the door.

"You're two hours late. Do you know how irresponsible that is for a leader?" The guard comments.

"I overslept." Leona quickly responded.

"Just whose knob did you satisfy in your fanny to get where you are?" The guard further comments.

"Either you let me in or I'll break this damned door down along with your vulgar mouth!" Leona threatens.

"Ooo I'm so scared. Piss off!" The guard taunts as he shuts the eye level slit. He smirks until it is wiped off of his face as Leona grabs the handle and rips the door out of her hinges with her strength. "W-w-w-w-what?!"

"Sod off Wanker," Leona lets herself in as the guard stumbles and collapses to his feet. She walks down the building down the warehouses' path and enters a meeting room where the planning stage concludes. "Sorry for being so late. I was unknowingly held back for time. Now what have I missed?"

"Look who decided to show up," Thomas: an HMMLR Left Resistance unit leader, comments at Leona's tardiness. "Unfortunately we were just about finished. Get out and get your Pride ready." He continued with a sterner tone.

"How could I prepare if I don't know what is happening? Now explain the plans to me." Leona demands. Thomas sighs at her demands and grabs hold of a map. He rolls the map open that depicts battle lines on a detailed military map.

"The red lines from the south and east are ours and the blue line from the west are those of the Special Operation Executive units," Thomas points. "Knight's cadre informed us that the Island of Man is an important radio and has stationed a regiment estimated to be around 1300 men and almost over 800 of heavy equipment. Mostly anti-aircraft and a heavy artillery unit for sea defence with a sizable amount of aircraft," Thomas points at the island's northern half. "We of the Left Resistance will be assaulting the cities of Ramsey and Ballure, and an SOE unit will assault the western half albeit from the sky. The island's capture will provide the UFN a place to land for a wider assault of the mainland."

"And how do we reach the Island? Do we have enough ships for the total manpower we hold?" Leona asked as she crossed her arms.

"In total, we have a thousand militiamen for the assault from the Left Resistance and about a hundred from the SOE," Marcus responded. "The SOE will conduct a hybrid assault from the west attacking from the air and water. The majority of the Left Resistance will assault with boats acquired from our Scottish and Welsh comrades. From there, we'll be assaulting in three waves throughout the island's northeast."

Taking into account, Leona tilt her head forward. "It would be better to assault with more troops. But with this setup, I could see a victory of taking the island," Leona looks up at the rest of the commanders of the upcoming invasion of the Island of Man. "I hold doubt that we can succeed on day one. Considering that most of our militia are pretty new to the fight. But these commanders hold experience in fighting the fascists and collaborations since the 56' uprising. So this battle will be a piece of cake." Leona looks downwards at the map as she smiles. "Well then. For my unit, I'm guessing we'll be assaulting somewhere in the south."

"No, we'll be assaulting from the north at the Point of Ayre Lighthouse," William, a second in command of Leona's Pride unit, responded. "Though dimmed, that lighthouse is utilised by the Manx regiment as a spotter of UFN bombers nearing Liverpool. Benefiting in intercepting bombing sorties. But more so is that this damned island is used as a communications station when direct communications are cut between north and southern English Army forces. Which is what the SOE is doing at the moment."

Thomas claps his hands once "Right. Let's not dilly-dally. We should maximise our time to rendevous at our departure locations. Everyone knows exactly where and when to depart," Thomas glances at Leona. "I expect that the first strikes will be simultaneous. We catch these men off-guard and the island will be ours. Hopefully, we won't need to use all three waves." Thomas glances down at the map and rolls up the map once more.

1 June 1963
Outskirts of the Island of Man

Despite the assurance of dimmed lights from the northern and eastern lighthouses, artillery and anti-aircraft began to fire upon the Left Resistance's patrol boats and their major transport. The Left Resistance also responded likewise but their armaments are less than that of the artillery and the anti-aicraft of the island's defenders.
In the north, coming from the east Leona looked out of the boat and could closely hear the battle for Ramsey. The Pride, a twenty-man squad led by Leona advances in the night. Leona pulls out and inspects her Kukri knife, readying it to stab the hearts of the fascists that stand.

"You've been silent commander," William commented. "Are you still pissed that they canceled the FA Cup? Don't get your knickers in a twist," He remarks. "In here, we're all Man United." William smiled as he pointed at his heart.

"Eh, I'm more of a Chelsea F.C. girl," Leona responded as she replaced her knife. "You red devils could suck it." Leona jokes.

"If we weren't fighting the fascists I would have pushed you into the water already by now just for that insult!" Thomas stands offended as Leona cackles at the jest.

Having had enough of their bickering, Emma spoke up. "Quit the bickering," Emma orders. "We're almost to the coast. Hope to God those lights ain't on." Emma responded as she and the second boat reduced their speed to avoid giving away their positions

Minutes prior, an artillery platoon stationed at the northernmost point of the island: Point of Ayre Lighthouse, received reports of the assault on the eastern station of Ramsey by the HMMLR's Left Resistance. The stationed platoon received no updates but maintained their position as they prepared their artillery positions.

"Sergeant, ought we brighten the light? There is a chance they could attack here?" Lance Corporal John asks.

"There aren't reports of American bombings near our positions," The sergeant ponders. "It could give away our positions. But go ahead and activate the winkie below. Have the men ready the artillery the second any ships are nearby." Receiving the order, Lance Corporal John rushes to grab a bike and rides to the smaller lighthouse, dubbed the Winkie, rushing to activate it. The first burst light shows nothing. Three seconds passed as a second burst of light shone past the rocks.

"Those don't look like... our... ships." Lance Corporal John gets on his bike and warns his comrades of a possible attack. "At the ready! To the defenceses!" He calls out. The artillery unit stationed at the northernmost point prepares their 25-pounder artillery and lines up the possible route the Pride's boats might reach. The order to fire is given.

The first fired rounds of the three artillery positions fall and explode in the water. "Bloody Hell!" Leona cries out as the boat jerks. "Alexander fire the Bren!" Leona gives out an order to Alexander who stands and aims his Bren light machine gun at the source of the artillery shells. Leona turns to Emma. "Emma zig-zag through!" Emma increases the boat's velocity. Leona peers over to the boat's portside and witnesses an explosion taking out half of her unit. "Dammit, this is a suicide!"

"Can't believe they activated that light. We have to take that light out and rush in!" Emma exclaimed as she glanced at the light. That second blinded her vision for a mere second as she maintained the boat straight. Another round is fired from the 25-pounder landing close to their starboard side and throwing the boat off balance as Emma tries to avoid both the rocks and the rounds from the island defenders.

Alexander turns to Emma. "Christ, Emma, don't get us all killed before we get one of these basta-" Alexander collapses and is thrown into the water as a machine gun squadron is brought in with the Vickers machine guns and begins to open fire. Leona moves over to where Alexander stood and grabs the Bren lmg before it to falls into the water. She tosses out the empty magazine and loads it with another she grabbed from the crate on the ship. Leona kneels to one knee and begins to open fire but stops just as Emma crashes on the rocks. The opportunity to storm the island was taken away from them as Leona's boat to is blown up throwing its occupants out into the water. In the cold and darkness of the water, Leona tries to grab on any remaining item to float, pushing against the currants to push forward and show off her powers.

"Dammit Lionelle. Work with me!" Leona tries to fight against the current with her might but is pushed further back into the water. "No, this can't be how I die again." Leona treads water as she grabs onto a piece of drifting metal. Struggling to keep herself above the water. Every second passes as Leona is pushed further back into the sea, barely seeing that her remaining comrades are going on the rocks heading into a suicidal charge.

As the sun rises on a bright and warm Saturday morning, a group of children play around near the sand and water. One of them, their leader, spots the body of Leona. The four cautiously walk closer to the woman, standing behind the young boy.

"A bheil i marbh?" (Is she dead?) A little Scottish girl asks her friend.

"Cuir am bata sin thugam." (Pass me that stick) The Scottish boy requests. A second boy adjacent passes him a stick and begins to poke the unconscious Leona. Poking her on her sides, belly, breasts and face.

"Dè ma dh'fhàsas i suas?" (What if she wakes up?) A fourth girl asked, concerned about the consequences. Just as she spoke Leona violently woke up from her near-drowned slumber scaring all four of the Scottish children. The boy with the stick falls behind as the other three children flee calling for their mothers. Leona wipes the sand off her face and stands up turning to the boy.

"Oi, Lad where am I?" Leona spoke standing over the boy. Losing her London accent, she sees him trembling in fear with tears in his eyes.

"Eh-eh-eh Alba." The boy responded as he continued to tremble in fear.

"Alba?" Leona thinks to herself, repeating the name multiple times trying to remember where she heard the name from. Her brain makes the connection. "Scotland?" Leona asked as she tilted her head down. The boy nodded. "Don't be scared of me, lad," She looks around. "Point to me where England is, or what you call Sassin or Saxon. Just point to me where England is." The boy points to the southeast. "Fuck me," She curses under her breath. "Thanks, now scramginger kid." Receiving the order the boy runs as he leaves the stick behind. She turns in the direction she came from. "This mission was a major fuck up from the start. Most likely I'm the only survivor." She looks around and spots her Kukri knife and walks over to pick it up. "Well, at least all is not lost." She replaces the knife in its sheath. Following the boy's direction, she follows the general direction back to England.

4 June 1963,
Island of Man, Kingdom of England

The sun rises over once more the defenses of Man. Despite being taken by surprise, the drills undertaken prepared the defenders of a possible siege. The Left Resistance fought with strength against the defensive positions and the SOE landing on the west were all taken out or captured.
Lieutenant Colonel Kenneth Hawkins looks at his air station once more, sighing in relief that he and his men held off a siege by the men of the Left Resistance. Despite the cheers of a victory, Hawkins holds precaution and a belief that another attack will happen. He hopes that the next strike will be a successful defense against the foreign enemies of England. Even if they are greater in strength than his men.

As the day drew closer to an end, the Ministry of Defence received multiple reports of the bombs that fell over its northern cities. The defense of those cities was a lackluster response by the government in the early days. Yet, the RAF contended heavily and managed to take down several American bombers. Reports from the Island of Man indicated a siege by the HMMLR and calling for aid to counter a potential UFN strike.