27 December 2010
Forests around Mt. Whitecap
Northern Border Sector
Jasper
10:07 pm
The smell of blood and smoke hung in the night air, as the sounds of distant firing and explosions pierced the calm forests surrounding Mt. Whitecap.
Platoon Sergeant Schubert and his unit shivered in their foxholes as they silently waited for the order to advance, all deep in their private thoughts, for none knew when or how their lives would so simply end.
He adjusted his helmet and looked through his binoculars towards their target. Their objective was to capture and hold the town of Swentin once and for all. It would have sounded pretty straightforward, but before the mission, he had heard from one of his scouts that the town had changed hands twelve times in the past eight hours.
The capture of the town was a crucial factor in Supreme Leader Tony's plan to invade Western Jasper in a pincer movement from the North and the South. The 1st Corps, composed of around 60000 men and wolves, would be the first to make a massive breakthrough from the North, starting with the capture of the town of Swentin and eventually, Mt. Whitecap.
The next day, on the 28th of December, the 2nd Corps, with also 60000 men and wolves, would follow suit and cross the border from the South, capturing strongholds and towns on their way. Both Corps were supplemented with two armoured divisions each, making the Eastern Army a force to be reckoned with.
Schubert smiled as he scanned the vicinity ahead of him. "Those damn Westerns will never know what hit 'em." he thought.
And if they thought 2 Army Corps with armoured divisions was more than enough, Tony had even prepared for the worst and stationed an additional 20000 of an elite division of wolves as reserves.
"They're weak and unprepared." thought Schubert as he scanned the few outposts which had surrounded the town "There shouldn't be more than a thousand troops within the town and its vicinity. This should be a piece of cake…"
"…or at least, it should've been."
Schubert's gaze now shifted to Mt. Whitecap, which overlooked the town and the forests. The Western Army had dug in and positioned several anti-tank and artillery guns of all sizes at strategic points on the mountain. There was barely any area of the Northern Border Sector that the guns couldn't cover.
In fact, their main target after Swentin would be the assault of Mt. Whitecap, and the capture of enemy guns to be used in their own favour. However, Schubert knew the enemy, although outnumbered, could not be underestimated at any time.
"Hey Frank, how do you feel about shooting Germans?" he heard one of his men ask behind him.
"Well, they chose their side, didn't they?" another replied.
Schubert turned around and exhaled deeply "Are we clear on our objectives?"
The two soldiers nodded and replied with a soft "Yes, sir."
He looked at them. Both were young souls, and by the looks on their dirt-covered faces, had little knowledge of the dangers they were about to face. They were all fellow Germans, thousands of miles from the Fatherland, now about to be thrown in bloody combat with other fellow Germans. He could well understand their feelings.
"Frank, which one of you is Frank?" he asked.
"Me, sir." the one on his right replied.
"Family?"
"Yes, sir." Frank motioned with his head towards the West "In there."
Schubert nodded. "And you?" he asked the soldier on his right.
"None, sir."
"He wouldn't be losing much, besides his life." Schubert thought "Lucky bastard."
Frank crawled closer to Schubert. "And you, sir? Do you have family?" he asked.
Schubert looked in the Eastern direction for a moment, seeming to engage in deep thought, before replying "Yes, in fact, Private. Two beautiful daughters and a wife back home. A few relatives and my brother in the West."
"Your brother?" the soldier on his left asked.
"Private, state your name." he replied.
"Oh, sir. Sorry, sir. Private Maarten, sir. Platoon sniper." the soldier replied, tapping the scope on his old, Mauser Kar98k rifle.
"That is an antique, Private Maarten." Schubert pointed at the Kar98k "Best keep it in one piece, and working."
A soldier coughed.
"Indeed, sir. It was used by my grandfather in Tunisia during the Second World War, and has earned him the Iron Cross." Maarten said, as a sense of pride shone in his eyes.
Schubert nodded "You should be proud of your history."
"I am, sir. And I am honoured to be serving under you." Maarten said.
"Loyalty," Schubert said, pounding on the army badge on his left chest "is a rare trait."
Both soldiers nodded slowly.
"Sir, if I may, I would like to know your last name, as a matter of respect." Maarten said.
Schubert chuckled, and looked at the town briefly before facing Maarten again. "If I told you, you would laugh. But if you insist, it is Boonstamp."
Another half an hour passed with the men of 1st Corps waiting in the biting cold. Both man and wolf started whispering with each other, trying to make friends of each other, for they knew how vital a comrade could be in the heat of battle.
Schubert assumed a crouching stance and went over to the front of his men, gripping his Luger. "Soldiers of the 1st, you very well know that there will be no cover for two kilometres." he said with a serious tone.
They nodded.
"I want you to spread out, and save your bullets until you get in range. There is to be no firing until we can get in range, do you understand?" he ordered.
"Yes, sir." they replied in unison, checking their ammo.
"Men, we have been chosen to form the frontlines of the entire 1st Corps. Supreme Leader Tony expects that every soldier will do his duty. There will be no mercy for deserters or anyone thinking of surrender. Good luck, men. I will see you on the other side. If not, then in the next life." he concluded.
He stayed in his position for about five more minutes before an orchestra of howls was heard coming from the far rear.
Platoon Leaders raised their pistols and pointed them forward, signalling the charge, and the invasion of the West. Immediately, the troops sprang to action, charging and screaming with force. The ground below their feet trembled as the armoured units behind them burst into life, the low sound of their engines roaring with fury.
Schubert followed suit and pointed his pistol forward "CHARGE! For the Valley! No mercy! I'll shoot anyone I see with pity in them!"
The men behind him screamed with their own war cries and ran forward.
The Western troops guarding the town were disturbed by noises coming from the woods, and went to the outposts surrounding the town to see what was going on. Most of them were convinced that they must have been dreaming. The sight of thousands upon thousands of dark shapes charging out of the woods and screaming was too horrifying to be true.
However, some of their officers were veterans of previous battles, and came to their senses. They began howling distress howls in the direction of Mt. Whitecap. Almost immediately, the seemingly quiet mountain became a giant Christmas tree, with artillery flashes appearing from its sides. The troops in the town and outposts also set up heavy-machineguns and a defensive perimeter around the town.
"Don't let up! Don't let up! We're the tip of the sword, men!" Schubert screamed as he ran for his life through the hail of bullets and artillery raining down on him and his men. The explosions kicked up massive amounts of snow, making visibility poor. Men and wolves were literally blown apart, blood and entrails splattering on the snow-covered ground and on their charging comrades. As soon as the attackers had covered about 500 metres, heavy-machinegun fire opened up from the town, cutting down almost every soldier in the front. Schubert saw a man in front of him get hit in the neck, his blood sprayed on Schubert's face as the unfortunate soldier fell on the ground, choking on his own blood.
"Give way for the armour! Get the fuck out of the way! Come on, men!" Schubert ordered through the chaos. His men moved out of the oncoming tanks and armoured transport vehicles. One wounded soldier on the ground wasn't so lucky as a tank crushed his body head-first, as he let out a helpless scream.
The artillery barrage continued to terrorize the advancing army as the ground soon became blood-red. Limbs, brains and entrails were everywhere. However, their tanks rode towards the front like iron gods. Bullets bounced off them in all directions, and most were able to maneuver well enough to avoid anti-tank and artillery fire. Troops followed behind the tanks as they began to align their turrets towards the enemy position.
"We're in range! Open fire! Death to the Westerns!" Schubert said, firing his Luger. The troops behind him also opened up on the enemy positions as they continued to get closer to the sandbags. Schubert could see the terrified faces of the Swentin defenders and knew what a sight they must have been to them.
The tanks aimed for the outposts and fired away, blasting them into mere debris as the explosions lit up the night. It was a glorious sight for the attackers, but most of the Swentin troops in the frontlines quickly retreated into the town itself.
Like a wave from hell, the first wave of Eastern troops came into direct contact with the front row of defenders behind the sandbags. A ferocious melee battle ensued. All around him, Schubert could hear screaming and the sounds of knives and rifles hitting each other. He jumped over the sandbags to spot a Western wolf soldier, bleeding terribly from head, trying to crawl away. Without much hesitation, he emptied three bullets into the wounded wolf's back. Looking up, he spotted a Western human soldier charging at him with a bayoneted rifle and screaming at the top of his lungs.
He knew this was to be considered civil war- killing his own countrymen, but it was probably true. They had chosen their sides. Ducking quickly, the enemy soldier's bayonet narrowly missed his neck. He turned round only to meet Schubert's Luger pointed straight at his chest. Another three shots were fired as blood spurted out of the enemy's chest. However, he screamed one last time and fell on Schubert with his bayonet pointed forward.
A searing, tearing pain erupted in Schubert's right shoulder as he screamed in pain. They both fell onto the ground, with the lifeless body of his enemy on top of him.
"Uuurrrgghhhh... Uhhhh..." Schubert groaned in intense pain as he slowly pushed the soldier away. He could feel warm blood flowing out of his wound. He knew it was bound to be serious but decided not to look at it for it would do nothing but distract him from his mission.
FInally, after what seemed like an eternity, he managed to push the dead soldier off him but remained lying on the ground. As his buddies and fellow wolves died around him, he could do nothing but watch helplessly. Artillery fire continued as everything around him started to go in slow-motion. His hearing became muffled and he started hearing echoes. Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he tried to take in those few moments of peace in the heat of battle. He thought about his men, he thought about his family back home.
"My two little girls should be heading off to bed by now..." he thought, as his consciousness started to fade.
"And..."
"My wife... How would she manage..."
"If..."
He felt as if he was in a dream.
It was white. Someone was shouting in the distance. However, the voice was heavily muffled and came instead as booming noises.
A face, yes.
He could make out a face.
Where was...?
Opening his eyes painfully for a few more seconds, he could no longer feel any pain in his shoulder. What he saw was a faded grey and bright light in the distance. The shouting was still there.
No... he couldn't stand it...
Any longer...
Darkness came upon him as he completely lost consciousness. The last thing he heard was his own slow, yet heavy breathing and the continuous boom of the voice.