Author's Note:
This chapter's considerably shorter than the previous two, especially the first one. Seems as though my chapters get shorter as each one passes, unlike my first fanfic, D Day, which was entirely the opposite. Point aside, I've taken this chapter to develop a little, the major conflict in which the soldiers are placed in, and what is about to happen, eventually leading to a crossroads between the two lead protagonists. If you've read WWII history, (or at least played some WWII FPS games and picked up few scraps of info here and there) you'll realize some of the similarities between the situation presented here and the real-life D Day's follow-up, Operation Market Garden.
ZAC 2042, March 27th
D-Day D+9, 0918 hours
Bareshia Bay, Zenebas Territory of the Central Continent
Aarhem Outpost
Brigadier General Lois Lian adjusted her crimson beret pinned with medals as she sat in her seat in front of the planning desk as the other senior brass of the Aarhem outpost gathered around the table, where a gigantic map of the Bareshia Bay sector and a smaller one of their position was laid out, complete with tools such as compasses and large meter-long rulers. The brigadier general waited patiently as the men took their seats, she being the only female in the room before leaning towards the table and her fingers interlocking with one another. Her eyes carefully drifting from one soldier to the other, she finally began the meeting.
"We're in a dire situation here. In eight days we've lost air superiority to the Zenebas forces, lost two major bases in the Bareshia Bay sector, the general of the sector currently in a dangerous situation in the woodlands and with us being their only aid." Brigadier General Lian said with no emotion, "To add to that, we've lost communication with them due to electromagnetic pulses set by the Zenebas bastards and they've severely flooded our other forces with the unlocking of a set of canal dams.
"With several of our C3s down due to the pulses, including radar and our satellite technology and arms, we're in a very futile position to retaliate now," The general continued, "I've ordered all available CP-05 heavy beam-cannons to be mounted on every Cannon Tortoise available, thus eliminating the aerial threat."
"What I'm mainly worried about is what the Zenebas forces will do next? Naturally, they'll have a follow-up operation to crush us when we're weak." Lian added, "But that's not our job to do. Our job is to be able to counter this follow-up operation, be aware of what might happen to us and be able to stop it before anything else happens. That's what we're supposed to do."
The brigadier general took a brief pause as she adjusted her collar.
"So…any questions?"
ZAC 2042, March 27th
D-Day D+9, 1120 hours
Bareshia Bay, Zenebas Territory of the Central Continent
Helic Base Camp G2
Technician Officer Matthias Perry had arrived back at G2 a mere day ago before his CO, Tech. Sergeant Eltham Bryce had called him at 1045 hours after he'd finished his breakfast at the mess hall to head down to the fields surrounding the base camp to meet his new squad at 1130 hours. Matt had decided to take the initiative by setting out early, and possibly even being able to locate the tank he was tasked with commanding. The fields were used to store larger vehicles, such as tanks and Zoids, were kept and the area was constantly maintained and watched by both soldiers and engineers. It took awhile for Matt to weave through the confusing village that had become the Base Camp G2 before he found the exit leading to the fields and walked towards the distance, where he could make out the many Zoids and other vehicles were parked.
The blades of grass were long and sharp, reaching up to Matt's thighs and though it was reaching noon and the first rays of sunlight were breaking through, the dew of the morning still clung on, soaking Matt's technician pants. He had decided not to bring his rifle along, considering there was no use in doing so. The air was cooling and induced calm into Matt's mind as he realized how large the 'parking area' was. Soldiers and engineers patrolled the area, fully armed with rifles with several positions of machine-guns mounted on sandbag defilades. Barbed wire and crow's feet tank traps were also planted across and Matt had to carefully walk around these before he went up to an engineer and asked,
"S'cuse me, could you tell me where the tank unit of…" he paused and drew out a piece of paper with Tech. Sgt. Bryce's writing on it, "4th Squad under the 187th Tank Battalion is?"
"187th Tank Battalion?" the engineer now asked, looking quite the confused man, "There's no such battalion."
Another engineer walked over and tipped his helmet before saying to his fellow friend, "The 187th Cavalry Battalion is what this lad's talking about. They've changed their names, you know, after all their horses were burnt in Dallas Triangle and we had the tanks flown in from Aarhem."
"Ah!" the first engineer said in realization as he flipped through papers on a clipboard, "Here, let me show you 4th Squad's tank."
They walked through a whole column of tanks which were all parked and being serviced. All except the last unit which the engineer brought Matt to. "Here you go," the engineer introduced as he tapped the hull of the ochre-colored vehicle affectionately, "The M35-20 tank, human-designed. Its nickname is the 'War Demon.'"
"So this is a tank…" Matt muttered as he walked around the armored vehicle, studying the AFV's (armored fighting vehicle) threads, its massive tank gun, the hatches for both the commander and the gunner, the barrel of fuel strapped on its back, the canvas, working tools, and towing rope that covered the length of the vehicle, "The whole thing's human-made and designed…does that mean that the members of this battalion are all human?"
"Well," the engineer said with a sigh, "Originally, the 187th was made out of both Zoidian and human members but after the tanks were shipped in, the brass reasoned that humans would be more familiar with their type of warfare and the Zoidian members of the battalion were swapped for human soldiers of other units before being re-assembled as the 187th Tank Battalion."
"So that means all the members of my squadron will be human?" Matt asked, his brow creasing to slight worry.
"Exactly," the engineer answered.
"So why am I in this battalion then, if I'm Zoidian?" Matt questioned the engineer again.
"Who knows, perhaps there aren't any more humans left in G2?" the engineer suggested.
"That's a reasonable answer, I suppose."
***
It would be at exactly eleven minutes later and one minute after the appointed meeting time that all the members of the 4th Squad, 187th Tank Battalion were gathered in front of the 'War Demon.' Matt confirmed with Tech. Sgt. Bryce that he was indeed, the first choice as while all the other technicians had positions to fill, Matt was currently not under any operation and was so given the temporary rank of Warrant Sergeant, as a fill-in for the 4th Squad, who apparently had not had a NCO to lead their team in four days. There were four other members of the 4th Squad, Corporal Dom Weibe as the gunner, Private Hayate Buto as the loader, Private Naylor Ward as the machine-gunner and Pfc. Alois Reug manning the vehicle itself. Matt was to be the tactical commander, spotter, and radio-man too.
"Sir," Matt asked Sgt. Bryce with a whisper, "Were you the one who selected me as this squad's NCO?"
"Indeed I did," Bryce replied with his trademark phrase, "I've now got to take up the job of being CO for the 187th too. I've been given the rank of 'Warrant Lieutenant.'"
"Because frankly I have had not much combat experience, let alone tank combat experience. I can barely control a Zoid, what are the chances of me taking charge of a tank?" Matt asked in bewilderment.
"Zero to none, in my opinion," Sgt. Bryce replied with a hearty chuckle, "Hey, you're not the only one. I'm sorry son, but you were the only one off-duty and Felt's still under the ICU, anyways."
"Felt? How is he, anyways?" Matt asked, genuinely concerned.
"I haven't got much word on him from G1, yet. There are two more EMPs, these time proper ones, being set up in different regions so our communications are quite disabled for now." The sergeant explained, "At least until we get the advanced electronic men coming in from Aarhem."
By the time their conversation had come to a conclusion, Matt's new squad mates had already gathered in front of the tank in a single file and were eyeing their new NCO with a mixture of suspicion and confusion. Matt turned his attention back to his four new men and found all of their gazes towards his clothes. He looked down. The blue technician overalls did stand out the way county jail orange jumpsuits stood out in the crowd. All of them were wearing camouflaged attire and each one of them had a helmet along with them too and a sidearm. Matt, on the other hand, was stuck with a service cap on his head and without even a combat knife in his pocket. Tech. Sgt. Bryce coughed once to signal Matt to begin the briefing before Matt finally took the hint and faced his four men, standing awkwardly in his overalls.
"Hello, everybody," Matt said, his voice rather uneasy, "I'm your new commander, Warrant Sergeant Matthius Perry, you can call me Sergeant Matt though."
He took a brief pause while everyone still stared at his overalls waiting for an explanation. "As you can see from my attire," he said, indicating at his blue uniform, "I'm a f*****' technician. But we don't have any more eh….humans in G2 so I've been assigned as the substitute tank commander for your squad."
"And so eh…" Matt stumbled a little, "I'd like to get to know each one of you so we can er….be effective on the battlefield?" He turned to Bryce for help and the Sgt. just shrugged. Turning back towards his new men, he quickly improvised, "Um, so if you could each introduce yourselves…"
"Corporal Dominic Weibe, sir!" the first man, a stout Hispanic-looking figure with a goatee, "I'm in charge of aiming the tank's gun, sir. Been serving the Helic Military for five years now, used to serve in the 88th Cavalry Regiment before being transferred here, sir."
Matt shook his hand and replied, "Good to know that, and you are?" he asked, pointing to the next soldier, a red-headed and freckled-face youngster.
"Private First Class Alois Reug, sir!" the Pfc. introduced himself as.
"Reug?" Matt asked, "Isn't that a Zoidian name?"
"Yessir, I am a second-generation human, sir!" Pfc. Reug replied, "I'll be driving this baby here, sir, you won't have to worry about a thing when I'm behind the gears."
Matt nodded and walked over to the next soldier, a spindly white man with a beard and pince-nez style glasses who introduced himself, "Private Naylor Ward, sir! Previously a member of the 97th Infantry Regiment, was transferred here after the rest of my regiment as killed in Round's Mountain, sir! I'll be manning the machine-gun sir, been a gunner all my life and ain't gonna stop now!"
The last soldier, clearly the youngest, perhaps eighteen or so, was of Asian descent and merely said, "Private Hayate Buto, sir." Matt noted the youngster's stance, a dangling and messy posture, with his dog tags dangling out his pocket and his smock unbuttoned and dangling from his thighs.
"Now that you've got the know one another," Warrant Sgt. Bryce declared, "It's probably time that I should inform you of your first assignment."
All eyes went to Sgt. Bryce and they all snapped into attention. Matt could feel his hands trembling somewhat involuntarily as he stuffed them within his jumper's pockets and tried to keep a composed face. "Now," Bryce began, "As you all know, those damned Zenebas asses have unsealed the Le Braquette locks, thereby and steadily flooding our areas. G1 and G4 have already been affected but we won't be, at least not until two or three days later."
"As you all know as well, the EMPs around the area have severely disabled our connections with the closest headquarters at Aarhem so they are not aware of how dire our situation is. Our rally points are going down soon if we don't call in for support." The sergeant made a pause before resuming, "As most of our forces are currently engaged in combat, the top brass has decided to select you and the other five tanks of the 187th to 'manually' mobilize to one of the two bridges further up north in order to make it to Aarhem and inform them of our situation. Plus, it's perfect tank country; wide open spaces with no hinders."
Matt's panicked face quickly dropped in favor of a coolly relieved one. Whew! At least we won't be engaged in any combat. He told himself, sounds easy enough, just drive there, cross the bridge, and call for help. No sweat.
"The expected ETD; or d-day is tomorrow, at 0510 hours, perfectly as dawn breaks so the enemy won't have time to launch any aerial attacks as you make your way across the Bareshia plains. The technicians will strap you in with extra barrels of fuel and spare threads. We'll also load you out with some infantry weapons in-case you need to make a quick getaway. Let's see….we've supplied your tanks with sabot, AZ (anti-Zoid) and HEAT (high-explosive anti-tank) rounds for your guns." Bryce said as he checked his clipboard.
"What are we supposed to tell them when we get there?" Matt asked.
"That's where you NCOs come in," Lt. Bryce said with a smile, "I've given each tank commander a copy of a pre-recorded video by the top himself, General Frank R. Kades, specifically informing Aarhem about our situation. Just hand the tape to Colonel Eton James there. It may be an archaic style of communication but with the Zenebas able to break our espionage codes, at least the tape would be useless to them, considering they don't have tape recording machines."
"Courtesy of us humans," Corporal Weibe said with a smile and the others chuckled amongst themselves. Matt alone felt rather nervous inside as the conversation of 'good ol' tapes' dragged on before Sgt. Bryce ordered them to begin a test-drive for the tank, just to see how their coordination on the battlefield would go.
They all agreed to give it a go and Pfc. Reug was the first man to open the driver hatch and slide in whilst Private Ward followed closely behind. Private Buto unclasped the turret hatch and slid inside in a serpentine fashion while Corporal Weibe gave Matt a thumbs-up as he himself got into the turret. Matt watched all of his men get to their respective positions before going in through the driver hatch, his hands firmly grabbing the fabric cushioning the rim of the hatch. He slowly lowered himself into the tank and had to bend his head to stumble his way to the commander's seat where in-built periscopes and a field radio were situated close to the seat.
"The techies have loaded y'all with a few blank rounds!" Lt. Bryce informed, "Drive further up ahead; we have some small automatons prepared to be taken down by machine-gun and larger, mobile ones to practice swift turret motion and the tank's gun!"
Matt mumbled a yes sir as he struggled to latch the harness around his vest before testing the periscope's range of motion. In front of him was Reug, who peered through a small slit in the armor and Ward, next to Reug and keeping his steady fingers on the heavy-machine gun with plenty of bandoliers next to him to spare. Directly on top of him was the harness where Weibe was ready with the gun's x10 scope and Buto next to him, his hands wrapped around the first round, marked with the grey ring around it that all blank rounds were marked with.
"All right, we're ready to mobilize." Matt declared as he placed the headphones around his head, linking him to every other soldier within the tank, "PFC; get this thing rolling."
Reug followed the order and released the clutch before pulling the acceleration stick. The tank roared to live as the exhaust behind it stuttered before belching out gas as the sprocket grabbed hold of the track and the idlers, sending the lumbering colossus forward. The grass shifted and crunched beneath its weight as Reug slowly steered the War Demon to a ninety-degree turn, aligning it with the designated spot where the automatons were situated. Outside, Warrant Lieutenant Bryce unveiled a red flag and waved it high in the air, signaling the sergeant further up north for the activation of both the mobile automatons and non-mobile ones.
"Be careful!" Lt. Bryce cried, "The smaller automatons are firing live rounds, since we don't have ay 7.92 mm blank ones!"
Splendid, Matt thought sarcastically in his head as he peered through the periscopes which sprouted out from above the tank. Using its zoom-in function, he swiveled the device carefully and caught side of four small automatons readily deploying their gatling guns. Staring at the devices for a few more moments, he then turned to his men and said through the headphones' microphone, "Gunner, prepare to engage enemy, driver, pivot eleven o' clock."
As the automatons steadily fired their .30 caliber rounds towards the glacis plate of the machine, Reug spun the tank slightly towards the direction of two of the automatons as Ward adjusted his sight. Once he was satisfied, he squeezed the trigger with steady, short bursts with pauses in between them. The ammunition belt of the gun rattled as the machine-gun spewed its bullets till the first automaton was disabled and went down in a flurry of fumes and bullet-holes. Ward waited for a moment until the machine-gun had cooled down a little before letting loose another stream of bullets to the second automaton, this time easily immobilizing the device by firing at its limbs.
Whilst this was going on, Matt was staring through his periscopes and counted two more non-mobile automatons and five more mobile ones. The mobile ones were much tougher, firing .40 caliber rounds that were blinding flashes in the air as they rammed themselves onto the tank's hull. "PFC! Pivot two o'clock from your position!" Matt cried over the intercom, "Corporal, is the first round loaded?"
"Yessir," Corporal Weibe responded as Buto placed the round in slid over it the gun's cover before locking the gun mounting, "Lock and loaded."
"Ok, rotate and target the first three automatons one-by-one, you should be able to see them from your scope." Matt called out calmly as Reug had already begun turning the tank for Ward to take down the smaller automatons. I'm not that bad at this, actually, Matt thought to himself.
Weibe placed his eye to the stadiametric sight of the large-caliber high-velocity 7.5 cm gun towards the first automaton which had begun to stumble to the left. His hand reflexively went to the turret control and spun the turret carefully before calling out to Buto, "Fire!"
Buto pulled the gun's lever and the gun blasted its round before recoiling back, the butt of the gun sliding out through an armored slit on the back of the turret, throwing the round out of the tank. The round flew true and rammed itself onto the armor of first mobile automaton and its dark armor shattered, throwing shards everywhere as the machine exploded into flames. The next mobile automaton was carefully approaching towards the right, its on-board computer smartly calculated that a flanking maneuver was in order but it was easily brought into a chaotic explosion by the tank gun as Wiebe expertly brought the gun upwards again and sent the third mobile automaton into oblivion. Private Ward opened the top of his gun and slid in another ammunition belt before taking out the last non-mobile automaton.
The final two mobile automatons quickly scurried to the front, blasting their engines out with their machine-guns as Ward provided scattering fire with his machine-gun, pivoting it carefully towards the mobile machines as Buto took another round in his arms and placed it into the tank's gun before sliding on the tank gun's cover and reaching for the trigger lever. Weibe aimed at the first one and roared a 'fire' and Buto pulled the lever and send a round smashing into the machine's exterior, destroying it utterly as it broke down and fell onto the grass. Weibe then carefully aimed the gun again after Buto loaded in the round and sent yet another large piercing blank though missing it slightly, destroying its legs as the automaton smashed to the ground. The machine was still able to fire at the tracks of the tank though before Ward brought it down with his gun.
The men of the tank sat in the cramped space for a moment. Sweat went down Matt's forehead as he heard Sgt. Bryce call 'clear' and walked up to the tank's hull, tapping it lightly. Matt wiped the sweat off his head and unlocked the hatch of the tank and pushing it open before crawling out to meet the warrant lieutenant and breathe a breath of fresh air.
"How was that for a first experience?" the lieutenant asked, a cheery expression all over his face.
"Have you ever been a damned tank, sir?" Matt asked as he pushed himself out and felt the damp sweat patches across his uniform, "It's burning hot and tight in there."
His soldiers crawled out behind him and gave each other high-fives (a human expression) as Lt. Bryce pulled a hand on Matt's soldier and said, "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
"Used to it?" Matt asked in a mixture of boiling rage and sheer irritation, "Used to it, sir? Did you have any idea when you assigned me to this damned human contraption?!"
The warrant lieutenant shook his head, "I don't like your tone with me, mister. And indeed I did, but it wasn't as though I had a choice." He paused as he lit a cigarette and handed Matt one. Matt took it in silence as Lt. Bryce lit it and they both took puffs from their respective nicotine rolls of tar.
"I did it out of trust, choosing you." The lieutenant said after he blew out puffs of smoke from his nostrils.
"Really?"
"F*** no!" the lieutenant cried and roared in laughter while Matt merely stood there, his expression awkward and the cigarette still burning slowly from in between his fingers.
ZAC 2042, March 27th
D-Day D+9, 1455 hours
Bareshia Bay, Zenebas Territory of the Central Continent
Seventy meters from Aarhem
"Seems you were right about not taking chances, sir," Barthol muttered as Sgt. Alan Graf took the point, leading his squad of soldiers through the thicket of the forests and their damned canals.
Alan muttered something that sounded like hhn as he stepped over a root and twitched as his Asp-21 submachine-gun accidentally swung and hit a nearby tree. It was a tight situation, where they were at right now. As Major Talbot had predicted, along with the 518th and 520th PIRs, Alan's regiment had been selected to participate in a new operation, termed 'Backlash.' With Helic ground forces heavily demobilized and demoralized, and with air superiority given to Zenebas forces, the top Zenebas brass had decided to deploy paratrooper units towards designated DZs to secure two bridges leading to Aarhem, the closest outpost where help could be called for the Helic forces. The 8th Combat Engineering Division, specifically chosen to set up safety measures for the bridges once they were captured had been dropped with the 520th.
Alan felt his gut churn as he thought of the drop, over ten hours ago when a modified Storch, termed the 'Storch PDT', or Paratrooper Deployment Type had dropped his men and the other members of his 517th PIR across the woodlands of Bareshia. The staff sergeant felt no fear with heights, only with the damn PDT units. Those Zoids had modified fuselages in which the paratroopers would be deployed from. With a significant amount of weight taken off and the machine being highly unbalanced, the chances of deploying smoothly were low coupled with the fact that the chances of losing control in mid-flight and being brought down by enemy AAs were risen steeply.
But if they're cheaper to make than the newer Reddras, then so be it…Alan thought privately and bitterly in his mind.
The three (four if you count the 8th CED) had been informed of their rendezvous point, to rally in a pre-determined area that had been marked with orange smoke prior to their deployment. The smoke would apparently burn for forty-eight hours before dying, giving the different squads of paratroopers approximately two days to rally and troops that had already arrived were commanded to wait until at least two full regiments had arrived before waiting a single day more before leaving the third one behind and setting off to secure the two bridges. The sapper and engineering units of the 8th would then set counter-measure explosives on the bridge should the need of its destruction be necessary to prevent enemy capture. It would take the Helic forces months to construct bridges that wide and far over the Wilhelm canal.
"Sir, in this damn sun, I can't even see the f*****' orange smoke," Alycon whined as the seven sweaty men searched for the rallying point.
"Nor can I, that's why I'm using this damn paracompass!" Alan snapped back, "Now, if you guys would be so kind as to shut the f*** up, maybe I can then figure out where the s*** in this hellhole are we!!"
"Sorry, sir," Barthol muttered under his breath as Private Besseus was fiddling with the field radio of his again.
"Sir," Bess announced, "I can't get a connection with the other squads of our regiment, sir! There's too much interference, I think it's from the networks further up in Aarhem, sir!"
"Just great," Alan said and swore, "Picture perfect. And we're the ones with the damned EMPs. Alright, let's all just take a break and let the sun bake us for awhile and I'll try to figure out how to get there."
Partially glad for the rest and yet irritated by the ever-gazing sun raining its rays of light down upon them, his men complied and plopped themselves uselessly on the dirt, their backs resting against the barks of trees. Alan himself crouched beside a bush, tediously steadied his paracompass on the leaf-littered soil as he waited for the needle to finally stay still. Cussing the whole way under his breath, he unraveled a torn and bent beyond belief map from his haversack and smoothened it with his fingers as he placed it on the dirt. Scanning with his fingers along the topographical layout of Bareshia Bay, he slowly hummed to himself.
"Ok….I circled our rallying point in red marker when-" Alan began.
"Its orange marker," McVay interrupted.
Alan silently fumed and resisted the urge to smack his man on the face. "In orange marker. So…if this f****** compass works at all…" He angled the map so it faced where the compass pointed north to. He peered at the device for awhile before glancing back at the map and yelling a loud, "S***!"
"What is it, sir?" Darms asked as Alan whacked the dirt with his fist.
"Damn it, no wonder we've been lost for a good, long ten f*****' hours!" Alan raged, "We've overshot the rallying point by about a hundred damned meters!"
"What?" Hailay whispered in sheer confusion as he peered over his sergeant's soldier in an attempt to read the map and the compass, "Damn, the PDT pilot must have been high when he dropped us, plus the dawn wind probably picked us up and scattered us from the DZ."
His other men began to look over his shoulder as Alan took off his helmet and frustratingly ran his hand across his dirt-smeared hair.
"Whoa…we are a damned far distance from the point…" Bess whispered.
"Damn right we are," Barthol muttered.
"Hey, but look, we're only a few sixty meters or so from the first bridge along the Wilhelm canal, being quite close to Aarhem!" Alycon noted.
Alan glanced at Alycon's finger, which was tracing across the canal's path in the woodlands. It was true, what the private said, they were far closer to the first bridge than they were to the rallying point. Should we head over to the rally and meet up with them? Or go over and try to secure the first bridge without any help? Alan pondered wordlessly to himself, what the hell am I thinking? We haven't even met up with any other squads and six men are supposed to take a bridge?! Even if we try to head there and wait it out, it won't be until perhaps days before help arrives.
"Then I say we should head over to the bridge and conquer the thing!" Darms announced.
"What if it's guarded?" Alycon suggested.
"You don't know that, maybe the Helics were too foolish to secure the bridge, considering their outpost is a distance away from the canal," Darms retaliated.
"But if it is, how the s*** are we going to secure it with only six men?" Alan said, "Plus, if we do secure it the 8th CED aren't there to set precautions and how are six people suppose to hold it off until days later when the cavalry arrives?"
"Well, if you don't mind me saying, sir," McVay reasoned, "I say we go there to Wilhelm. On foot, it'll take days just to get to the rallying point and by then they might have already set off. Waiting near the bridge if it's guarded is a better solution then heading all the way back to the point."
"He's got a point, no pun intended," Barthol added with a chuckle, "In my opinion, I'd prefer making the journey there. Maybe they've already set off and we can rendezvous with 'em there and sack the bridge."
"Hmm…I suppose that does, in a way, make sense," Alycon said hesitantly.
"Let's call a vote, sir, it's the best way," Darms diplomatically said.
Alan rubbed his head with his helmet as he stared down at the map. Technically, by defying orders, this was the most logical course of action. At least if they waited there, they would be able to support their own forces the moment they chose to attack. And if the bridge wasn't guarded, they would then be able to save time by securing the objective quickly or at least preparing defense precautions in case enemy recon somehow located them. An ambush would certainly be to their advantage. It was only the ground now that mattered, considering that the Aarhem outpost's AA abilities would likely bring down any aerial Zenebas units. If they went back to the rallying point the other divisions, and quite possibly the other squads of their division, could have already set off without them. They were strangers in a strange land here, soldiers behind enemy lines.
"Ok, call off the f****** vote, we'll head there." Alan announced, "Alright, I want to arrive there at the very least by night-time, get your damned rifles and asses up and ready to move out."
His men, though not particularly cheerful at having won their 'vote,' got to their feet and double-checked their rifles. Alan told them to set their safeties off since the chances of enemy in the surrounding area were slim, at least until they got there. The soldiers unzipped their smocks and unbuttoned the few top buttons of their shirt as the sun made sweat patches all around their bodies in places few could bear to even imagine.
"I wish we had damned deo with us now," Hailay complained.
"Ok, let's head off!" Alan announced again with the enthusiasm and conviction of an I-Speak-Your-Weight machine.
"What an uninspiring battle-cry, sir." Barthol muttered with a snort.
"You've got any brilliant morale-lifting suggestions, Bart?" Alan replied with a mock-snort.
"Zede-Kï!!" Bathol yelled as the sun shone above them, "Yeah!"
"Zair-day what?" Bess asked.
"Don't you know your Ancient Zoidian?" Barthol asked incredulously.
"It means chop their lungs so they can't breathe," McVay offered helpfully, "Roughly."
"Uh-huh." Alan replied, unimpressed.