That it was Welkin Gunther and Squad Seven of the Third Gallian Militia who saved Gallia, both from Imperial invasion and Federation treachery, is undeniable, and they have been justly praised for it. But there were many others who fought for an independent Gallia during the Second Europan War.
Some stories have been told. Squads One and Three, who fell at the Barious desert before the Imperial Valkyria, Selvaria Bles. Squads Five and Nine, who were slaughtered by the Valkof. The Gallian army, which bled and died at Citadel Ghirlandaio, Fouzen, and a dozen other battles before its destruction at the Naggiar Plain and the Ghirlandaio Catastrophe.
But there were other squads as well. Soldiers who fought as valiantly as the Sevens, but, instead of winning the battles, allowed the Sevens time to win. This is the untold story of one of those units. For while Squad Seven was Captain Eleanor Varrot's sword, it was Squad Two that was Varrot's shield...
Excerpted with permission from Varrot's Shield: Squad Two of the Third Militia; Alain Gagnon; Randgriz Military Press; 1950
Heinrich Lannes hummed to himself as he walked to work down Ghirlandaio town's main street. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and it was the end of the workweek.
It wasn't that he disliked working for Marcus Vredefort—the pay was good, the work was stimulating, his coworkers were team players, and Vredefort wasn't the sort of boss who never forgot a mistake and never remembered good work. But he himself was restless, and with any luck a good long walk once he was done for the day would take the edge off.
He was worried that it wouldn't, though. Everyone in Ghirlandaio town was on edge these days, with the war going on. He hadn't yet learned to walk when the last war ended, but everyone knew how it had begun, and the current circumstances were very similar.
He shook his head. It was a lovely day out, and here he was getting himself upset over something he couldn't change or fix. The accounts, on the other hand, he could fix, and he'd come in early this morning, as was his custom, to go over the week's books.
He opened the door under the sign marked "Vredefort Import & Export" and was surprised to see someone else already looking over a ledger in the outer office, although he wasn't surprised to see that it was Julia Firenze. One of the other new clerks, she had a kind of cheerful conscientiousness that would have been irritating if it hadn't been so infectious, and as she looked up at him and smiled, he felt himself doing so as well.
"Good morning, Heinrich," she chirped. "Isn't it a lovely day?"
"It looks like it will be," he replied, "assuming a storm doesn't come up in the afternoon."
"It's not supposed to, but I suppose it might," she allowed. "So what are you doing this afternoon that brings you in here so early?"
That was another thing about Julia. For some reason, she'd ask questions that really weren't her business to ask and you didn't mind.
"I'm going to walk until I can't see the town, find a tree, sit under it, and do nothing for a few hours." He eyed her quizzically. "And, if I may ask, what brings you here so early? I'm usually the first one here besides the boss, Fridays."
"Well…" she began as she tucked a wisp of stray light brown hair behind her ear, paused, then continued, "I was hoping to take an afternoon walk myself."
"Really?" he said curiously.
"Well, I've noticed that you always seem relaxed after you do it, and I've been feeling anxious lately. I thought I might try it."
Heinrich shrugged. "You never know until you try. But," he grinned, "neither of us is going to get that walk in if we keep talking."
"That's so," Julia replied, and looked back down at the ledger.
He went over to his desk, settled himself down, opened the weekly import/export ledgers for the previous week and that same week the year before, and began to compare the numbers for the weekly report, only occasionally looking up to acknowledge the others as they came in.
It was as he expected, given the previous weeks, and it troubled him. Exports to the Imperials were falling, which made sense—the war was costing the empire millions of ducats per day. What did not make sense, however, was that imports from the Imperials were plummeting like a porcavian that tried to fly. It made sense that they would decline, but it had been a slow-but-steady drop ever since the war started. Over the past few weeks, however, imports had dropped by ninety percent, and the reasons being offered for it were flimsy.
Admittedly, he was not a veteran of the import/export business—he was only twenty-four, after all—but judging from Vredefort's reaction and what he'd learned at the university about international business, you did not offer reasons for so blatantly violating contracts that included the phrase "unavoidable difficulties" without any sort of further explanation.
And, based on the results he'd just gotten, it was still happening.
He got up and went over to his boss' door to knock on it, but before he could do so, he heard Vredefort's gravelly voice say "Come in, and shut the door behind you."
So he did.
"Sit down," Vredefort said. "This could take some time."
"Sir?" Lannes replied as he sat in one of the overstuffed chairs in front of the cluttered desk.
"You've been over the books, I take it."
"Yes, sir."
"And they tell you what they told me, eh?"
"Yes, sir. The Imperials are still cutting off nearly all exports, at a rate ten times that of their cutting of imports."
"I'm glad I'm not the only one." Vredefort steepled his hands. "Here's what you're going to do, Lannes. First, give these envelopes," he pointed to a sheaf on the desk, "to their intended recipients. Then…"
The room shook as a series of booms sounded from the direction of the citadel.
Vredefort cursed, then snarled, "Well, that's torn it. Didn't think the Imps had it in 'em to move this fast."
"Is it war, sir?" Lannes asked, his heart beating faster than in the aftermath of town watch training.
"Bet your bottom dollar it is. You're part of the watch, aren't you?"
"Part-time, sir."
"Best you go, then. And take anything that's light and you can't bear to leave."
"Can do, sir," Lannes said as he got up to leave.
"Oh, and one more thing," Vredefort added as Lannes opened the door.
"Sir?"
"Be careful out there. We'll need men like you after the war. And don't shut the door, I'm coming out of here."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir," Lannes said, and started walking briskly for the front door. The others had gotten up from their desks and were looking out the window as the explosions continued on.
"Heinrich!" he heard Julia call.
He paused for a split second, then continued walking as he said, "Can't talk now, Julia. Have to get to the muster point."
"Is this war, Heinrich?"
He turned to look at her. There had been some trepidation in that question, and as he looked at her he could see fear in her brown eyes—but there was also determination there, and he felt hers strengthen his.
"I'm afraid so. The town watch will do what we can, as the garrison is doing, but the town will probably be occupied soon. Get ready to go now. Valkyrur protect you all." He looked about the room at the others, who nodded solemnly.
"And you," Julia said softly, and Lannes nodded, opened the door, bounded down the steps and began to run for his rooms. As he did so, he wondered why he'd reacted as he had to her. But there was no time for that now.
He arrived at the muster point, rifle in hand and pack on his back, out of breath, and not first but not last. He was relieved to see that he was not unlike his fellow watchmen in being out of breath, as all of them looked like they'd run all the way there.
He looked around for his team. Where is Kelse?
"Heinrich! Get over here!" his team leader shouted, and he managed to jog over to where she waited, along with half-a-dozen other men and women. He looked at them for a second as he came to a halt. Georg Seaworth, lean and tired-looking, who worked in the bookshop. Emm Todt, who owned the fruit stand three blocks from his rooms and bore an unnatural uncheerful look on her face. Claude Jaeger, who brought in venison for the local butchers in his off hours and looked far too enthused about current events. Willem Egmond, son of the biggest banker in town, who clearly did not want to be here but was anyway. Adrienne Holmborn, who was barely out of school and looked like she was ready to kill anything in feldgrau. Freidrich, who didn't talk much and worked in the local autoshop. And, finally, Sergeant Kelse Winter, who'd been in the last war and looked like she was about to cut off her own arm without anesthetic.
As the artillery blasted in the distance, she nodded to him. "Good to see you, Corporal," she said. "Don't think you'll get to stay here long, though."
Lannes startled. "Pardon?"
Winter laughed. "You did a good job hiding it, Corporal, but I know your track at university was command. Captain Bytern told me. Which is why it's good that you're here, he's got a job for you."
"What sort of job?"
"We've got no communications with the citadel. Captain wants some kind of warning that the Imps are coming in 'sides stragglers. Since we're all scouts and we had you, he assigned us the job."
"Who else am I taking with me?"
"You're going to take Georg, Willem, Adrienne, and Friedrich up the road 'til you can see the citadel. Then, you know the drill."
"When the enemy breaks through and begins to move forward, get back and report. Understood." He paused. "If I may ask, Sergeant, isn't Captain Bytern concerned about taking out half your team?"
Winter laughed. "Naw. We'll be coming up the road a bit soon as the rest get here. Now get moving, and make sure to draw some rations before you leave."
"Yes, Sergeant," Lannes replied, and turned to the others. "Let's go then."
They jogged along the highway, keeping careful watch as they did so. They didn't have time for proper combat maneuvering, and Lannes fretted whenever they came near a hiding spot. Fortunately, the Empire hadn't infiltrated anyone in yet.
However, that wasn't what was really worrying him. What was worrying him was the slowly increasing trickle of withdrawing soldiers. At first, the only unwounded men had been ambulance drivers, the first of which they'd run into almost as soon as they left the town. But now there were unwounded men, some with their weapons and some without, walking down the road, heads hanging and refusing to acknowledge the militiamen as they passed.
That did not say good things about the defense of the citadel, but at least the guns were still firing. When those stopped…but there it was, the last of the hills before all of Citadel Ghirlandaio was in sight. "Almost there," he said.
Willem wheezed from behind, "Good."
Lannes glanced behind, as he had every few minutes, to make sure everyone was keeping up. So far, they were, although Willem looked like he was regretting missing the last couple of long-distance runs. Not entirely his fault, since he'd been taking the banking examinations, but he really should have kept in practice.
When they crested the rise, they all paused, standing on the sides of the road, and Lannes had to take a second to make sure that his jaw wasn't hanging open.
Even from this distance, which he estimated as being about four kilometers, it was obvious that Citadel Ghirlandaio was being pummelled. Just from where he could see, the there was some kind of massive war machine firing into the fortress, the road was clogged with ambulances and stragglers, and it looked like the defenders were focused on holding what they held. He pulled out his binoculars to get a closer look, and cursed under his. The Imperials already had a lodgement on the wall.
"The Citadel's falling," he said flatly, and turned to his group. "Georg, Adrienne," he said, then repeated himself more loudly when they didn't respond.
Their heads snapped towards him nearly simultaneously. "Sorry, Corp," Seaworth said sheepishly, "it's just, well—"
"I know. But we have a job to do, and you two have the best endurance out of all of us. Get back quickly. Tell the captain or Sergeant Winter that Imps have a foothold on the Citadel, and it looks like it's going to fall sooner or later."
"What about you, Willem, and Friedrich, Corporal?" Holmborn asked, and Lannes grimaced. "Someone has to stay here so we can report when Citadel Ghirlandaio actually falls. That person is me. Now get going. Judging from that," he pointed to the foundering wreck of a defense in front of them, "the best we can hope to do is delay them, but they will run right over the watch without noticing if we wait until they push through the citadel to send warning. Now go."
As Georg and Adrienne took off down the hill, Egmond turned to Lannes. "Ah, Corporal, how long do you, ah, intend to say here," he wheezed out between huffs and puffs.
"Not long, Willem," Lannes said, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. "But we are definitely not leaving until the first Imperial tank comes through that gate."
Surprisingly enough, however, the Imps didn't keep pushing. Instead, they stopped. Gallian wounded moved past all night, and though they tried to go to a rotating sleep schedule, one up two down, the noise kept them from getting any sleep.
The next day, nothing happened until evening, when the Imps suddenly launched some kind of attack. Lannes couldn't tell what was going on, even with the binoculars, but he figured out what was happening pretty quickly when the gates opened and the surviving Gallian troops stumbled out of the Citadel as fast as they could. He braced himself, waiting to give the order to withdraw, but again, the Imps didn't take advantage of the Gallian forces' disarray as they desperately patched together a defense in the secondary fortifications, which no one believed would ever be used.
Then, the next day, the Imps emerged from the fortress, something happened that Lannes didn't quite understand, and the surviving Gallian forces cracked like an egg. The Imperial artillery couldn't strike the hill, but it could strike most of the ground between the hill and the citadel, and Imperial flags were beginning to appear on the secondary defenses within an hour of the assault. Fleeing Gallian soldiers were disappearing in gouts of smoke and flame, and it was obvious that it was an utter rout.
The first Imperial tank came through the defenses as the last Gallians reached the bottom of the hill, and Lannes took out his binoculars to get a better look at it. It was one of the light models, and its movement seemed tentative to Lannes, like it wasn't sure if it would explode if it went any further. But it went further, and did not explode, and soon it was followed by three more of its brethren, a medium tank, and a company of infantry. They began moving forward the moment the last infantryman came through, and Lannes suddenly noticed that they were alone on the hill.
"Corporal," Friedrich said. "This area seems unhealthy to be in."
"Right, Friedrich." Lannes shook himself. "We've stayed too long. Let's get out of here."
And so they did. As they jogged back down the hill, Lannes noticed Egmond had apparently caught his second wind, which was good, because he couldn't leave the man behind but he didn't want to die and fail the mission either.
The first shells began to dig into the top of the hill thirty seconds after they began heading up the next one. He hadn't realized that they would be so loud, and he winced as he ran more swiftly than he had been.
Ten minutes and a kilometer later, as they came up on what Lannes had figured would be a good defensive position, he stopped and raised his hand to halt Egmond and Friedrich as two men stepped out into the road and leveled rifles at them. They were wearing watch uniforms, but their faces were obscured in the shadow of the sun, so he couldn't tell who they were.
"Halt and identify yourselves," the one on the right said, only for the other one to laugh.
"Don't be daft, man," he said with a grin, and Lannes knew who he was on the instant.
"Sergeant MacDonnell?" he said.
The man laughed. "Aye, and it's good to see you too, Corporal. Captain and Sergeant Winter were getting worried, now. Me, I figure you were born to hang." His expression turned serious. "Last stragglers came through two minutes ago. Anyone behind ye?"
Lannes shook his head. "There's only a company of Imperial infantry and some tanks. They're probably thirty minutes behind us."
MacDonnell cursed. "Infantry's one thing, but tanks? We've only the two lancers, and nowt but five rounds between them."
"Sergeant…" the other man said, and Lannes realized that he recognized him. John Kolchak, one of the full-time watchmen.
"Right." MacDonnell looked the trio up and down, then nodded. "Get yourselves back on to the Captain."
"Yes, Sergeant," Lannes replied, and he moved on up the hill, the other two following him closely. As they moved up, Lannes began to make out men and women positioned behind trees, rocks, and a few sandbags, and cursed the lack of entrenching tools.
They reached the crest of the hill and immediately saw the command post just behind the ridgeline. The captain was there, along with the three lieutenants—Hardwick, Tippelskirch, and Quiot—and Lannes immediately felt himself stiffen to attention while hoping that Friedrich and Egmond would do the same, saluted, and crisply announced himself. "Corporal Heinrich Lannes and detachment reporting for duty, Captain!"
Bytern returned the salute. "At ease, Corporal. Good work, sending Seaworth and Holmborn back. If you hadn't sent them back we never would have known that the Imperials had gotten a foothold on the Citadel. You gave us enough time to dig in here and start work on setting up some surprises in Ghirlandaio."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, what did you see back there?"
"The Citadel's fallen, sir. When we left, the Imperials were sending a company of infantry and a light tank platoon our way. I don't know when or if they'll be here, but it looked like they were moving quickly."
Bytern grunted. "Great." He looked at Tippelskirch. "You're in the center, so you'll have Sonlas and Jaeger." He looked back at Lannes. "Get yourself to your squad. They're on the left side of the road from this direction. We'll need every rifle we have on the firing line."
"Yes, sir," Lannes said, saluted, then turned and headed to his squad. As the three men went back over the ridge, he noticed that the shadows were growing long. Had it really been three days since he left Vredefort's office? Yes, it had been, and he shook himself and took a moment to look at the defenses.
Bytern's plan was fairly obvious. Tippelskirch's squad, which had four of the company's ten fire teams, half the shocktroopers and engineers, all the snipers, and now the two lancers, was holding the road, which left Hardwick and Quiot, whose squads were almost all scouts, on the flanks. With any luck, the Imperials would come up the road, get their noses bloodied by Tippelskirch, then try to send their infantry around the flanks and run into the others. Hopefully, after having their flanking attempts thwarted, they'd withdraw until the morning.
It wasn't particularly sophisticated or daring, and Lannes itched to go on the attack. However, he reminded himself, they were largely untrained in field maneuvers. Things were always much more complicated on the battlefield than in your own head.
He was broken out of his thoughts when he heard Sergeant Winter. "Heinrich, get over here. No time for woolgathering."
"Yes, Sergeant," he replied, then moved towards her and the team. Egmond and Friedrich were already taking cover, and Winter was leaning back against a rock with her rifle resting on it. "Good to see you, Heinrich," she said quietly as he came in closer, and she clapped him on the shoulder. "No resting on your laurels, though. You're second if I get hit. Find a firing position, and get ready. We set up a few extras, just in case."
"Thanks, Sergeant."
"Don't thank me," she said with a grim smile. "The longer you throw bullets at the enemy, the better chance I have of retiring."
Not really knowing what to say to that, Lannes nodded, then looked for a good spot. He found one quickly—an oak had fallen the year before and split over one of the rocks. Most of it had rolled downhill, but the roots and three meters of the trunk were still there, and Seaworth was the only one behind it.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked as he knelt behind the log.
"No trouble, Corp," Seaworth responded absently as he looked towards the next ridge. "Glad for the company." Then he cursed.
"What?" Lannes asked before he saw what Seaworth was looking at, then also cursed as he began to sweat. That was a tank cresting the next ridge.
A/N: This story will be updated each Monday. I'm going to be following the format of the original Valkyria Chronicles fairly slavishly, so expect 18 full chapters, an epilogue, and a bit more than half-a-dozen side stories that shed some light on the characters and the setting but don't really fit into the main narrative. Comments and critiques are welcome, and I hope you enjoy reading this.