CP in Neinville, 0910
"I encountered large amounts of infantry and some armor, us and some stray 99ers held here, but we were forced to pull back." The Sarge reported, pointing at different areas in the map, the lone light rumbling at the armor relocating outside.
"How many?" the general asked, taping the table over and over in a furious manner.
"200 or so, plus armor."
"And our numbers?"
"A little over fifty men with ten tanks and some assorted arms and AT weapons."
"Well, then, I'm sure our infantry are up for the task of… holding this town." The general said, drinking from his tin cup.
"Can we expect any reinforcement's sir?" Sarg asked, reviewing the map.
"We got to hold this town as long as we can. Battalion Head Quarters says "Give us 5 days and nights of hard fighting and you will be relived.""
"I'll see if I can motivate my men." Sarge said.
"Please do." The general said.
On top of the Church tower…
"Well, isn't this great. The big fucking cheese puts us up in this tower. I mean, don't they watch the movies? The enemy always suspects snipers in the church tower!" the angry "Bill Hickok" complained. The glass was always 1/10th empty to him, his mouth, only there to complain the situation. Bill shut the hell up was a standard saying in the company.
"Bill. Shut the hell up man, the damn Covies probably can hear you." The usually cool headed "Italian" said, adjusting the sites on his sniper rifle.
"Damn, it's so cold; I couldn't tell if someone shot me!" Bill cracked, trying to add some humor.
"Wow, you are the lamest joker in the USMC"
"Wait, I got movement, east of town. Tell HQ, I'm taken the shot." The Italian eye focused his eye near the sight. A Covenant with blue armor stood surveying the town with binoculars, possibly for artillery of some sort. Hell, to the Italian, he looked like a damn general standing 8 feet tall. He squeezed the trigger, ejecting a metal shell at lighting speeds. The piece of metal tore through the soft unarmored flesh of the neck, blood spaying all over a tree next to him. And he lay there, moaning, another shot finished that.
"Let's relocate; I don't think those Covies like us."
Covenant HQ near Neinville…
"Sir, we have enemy reinforcements closing all around it, I'm not sure that they know that this is our last gamble to brake their lines and take out their orbital cannon." The noncom reported, dusting the snow of his overcoat.
"Have you ever heard of Hitler?" The calm general asked, enjoying a smoke in his chair.
"No sir and what does this have to do with our current situation?"
"He's a fascinating figure, believed in an all Aryan race." He trailed off, "Yes, I believe we are in the position. A last offensive."
"Uh sir-"
"Hitler's plan almost succeeded, but he was defeated. How? Bastogne. The Americans held out, defending the town and thwarting the offensive. And the Americans tend to do the same in Neinville." The general continued, cutting off the noncom and standing up. "Let's hope we do not allow them to do that."
… Back and Neinville...
The Italian and others satin the bar, listening to old tunes and sampling the wines. A dark mood hung over them, trying to enjoy the last night of safety, trying to enjoy the rest of their lives in one night.
The Italian was cleaning and maintaining his sniper rifle, cleaning and oiling it. The other soldiers were sitting quietly, probably thinking of home or sweethearts. The things they fought for.
"Hey guys, at least one day a video game will be about us. We could look forward to that." A young soldier commented. He was right; no one gave note back at home unless shells were falling around them. The best recognition we could get is a book written about their actions or a video game.
… Neinville, 0950…
"Here we are again." Bill said, curling up in the high church tower.
"Yes-sir-e." The Italian replied, making last minute adjustments and then cocking his weapon.
"God I love that sound." The Italian said, licking his chapped lips.
"God, how long are the damn Covies gonna make us wait up here?"
"As long as they goddamn want, we got a town to protect, and I'm happy if they all just come out surrendering." The Italian starkly said, trying to shoo away the unwanted questions.
Then, movement. The woods seemed to shuffle around as the impending attack was about to happen.
"This is what I live for." The Italian mumbled to himself, a big grin on his face.
Two Covenant Banshees swopped in low over head, dropping bombs on the town. Blue flames danced and ate with pleasure the old wood on the buildings. Then a whole squadron of them appeared, and with them, a Covenant battle curser high above them.
They harassed freely against any moving target, even bombing a tank corpse that was already burning. Enjoying and taking advantage of the break of the relentless snowing. Some even hovered low around the streets, like one searching for individual targets. But all changed when our air boys showed.
"Yeaha!" Bill cheered, throwing his helmet in the air.
A large number of our P23's engaged the banshees, which ensued in a brilliant aerial display of skill and hatred. They flew in low around our town, some even crashing into each other.
"Angels our backs!" Bill said, putting his helmet full of snow back on.
"Then that must be god." I said, looking up to one of our magnificent battle cruisers. Which was sparring with the Covenant one, firing short bursts of cannon pulses.
Some pelicans attempted to airdrop some men to us, but were targeted out from the group. They flew in a wedge formation, three of them, and started dropping men were ever. Some even landed in the blue flames. A pelican's engine was hit, which caused a brilliant explosion over the small town, making a thunderous boom when it hit the ground.
Then a large wave of Covenant ground forces charged through the trees, supported by tanks. They rushed into the exposed snowy field surrounding Neinville. Explosions racketed their lines, but they did not falter.
Mad war cries came from their ranks, as they advanced ahead of the protection of the tanks, coming from all sides. But the church tower the Italian was in was by far the biggest building in the town, giving a vintage point covering all sides.
The Italian grinned with the sight of the mass destruction brought on his enemy, his main deterrent from getting back home. He fired slowly; making sure no bullet was wasted hitting soft snow. His partner set up his heavy MG and started firing at long range, which was woefully inaccurate because we were in the center of town.
"Sniper team, how many hostels are inbound?" the general of our group asked with a frenzied tone.
The Italian started a rushed counting, standing up to do the job.
"105." The Italian told his partner.
"105?"
"105" the Italian repeated again.
"This is Sniper team, we are reporting about 105 hostels inbound. Confirm message." Bill reported in the radio stationed next to them.
"Message conferred." The general grimly confirmed
"Hostels right." Another voice from the radio came, and like an automaton, the Italian focused on the right side, and started empting his 10 round cartridge from his custom wielded sniper rifle.
Two flares shot up from the woods, and a second of oppressive was broken by a thunderous bombardment on the town.
"They were attacking the ruble." The Sarge said after the battle.
A piece of shrapnel hit Bills arm, causing him to grunt in pain, but refused to back down from his MG, and kept firing away. The Covenant forces were halted about 100 yards away from the town, slowly advancing closer and closer.
… Now Swaps to Sarge…
"We are drawing heavy fire, need fire support! Can you hear me general?" the Sarge furiously shouted into the radio, maddened by the decimation of his squad. One of his squad members was dragging a wounded comrade from a window, after being hit twice.
They were held up in the front most house in the town, a two story one. It was targeted by the tanks the Covenants used, drawing heavy fire.
"Sarge, stay calm. Air strike is on route." The general reported. Two fighters came low, strafing the enemy lines, and a bomber dropped its pay load, going up to return to the battle in the skies.
"Thank you General! Payload on target!"
"This is B5, glad we could help." The report from the bomber came.
"Our pleasure!" the Sarge replied.
He returned to the window, surveying and firing on all moving targets.
"Sir! You should see this!!' A frightened marine said, his eyes wide open.
"What is it son… Shit… Concentrate all fire on them! Take them down! Bring them down!!" The Sarge screamed pointing furiously at the new foes.
"What the hell are they doing?"
"Grunt bombs." The Sarge said, and started firing at the line of grunts lead by one elite.
…Switches back to the Italian…
"Hey, Bill. Check this out." The Italian said a humors tone in his voice.
Bill stopped firing, he leaned over hi MG to see what his partner was talking about.
"Well, well, their trying to make us use all of our bullets!"
"Stay awake up their! Direct all fire to those grunts!" a voice from the radio came.
Another stray bomb came from the fighters overhead exploded next to the tower, causing a terrible shacking.
"This is going to be too easy!"
…Switches to a Grunt on the Covenant side…
"They can't make us go! There's no need to send us!" the scared little grunt thought, trying to make sense of this made situation.
"The first wave will get it done! Calm down, you'll be fine!" he kept telling himself, trying to distract himself from the real truth.
He had joined the military during the zealous first days of the war, and has been fighting in almost all theaters of war. Every were he fought the elites and brutes looked down on them, but this only made them work harder and build a tough character. He grew up in poor conditions. And he was looking for a way to get better pay and recognition, and a pamphlet went around for an "Elite Division." It said it would give a 24 day leave to any participants and a 25 pay increase. This appealed to him because he could visit home and talk to his family. And have more money to send back to them.
But now he was in some snow forest spearheading a relentless last attack. He would normally like the circumstances, but he wasn't going into battle with a gun, but a bomb. He was being used as a Covenant bomb, the timer was primed to two minutes, and their job would be to run into anything in their paths.
"All right men! You will be greatly rewarded in the afterlife for your rave services to the mighty gods! The prophets will not forget your noble sacrifice!" an Elite dressed in guardian armor spoke, his voice dominant over even the loudest explosions.
It was met by whines and grunts.
…Switches to Sarge…
"God damn it! Fall back! Secondary defensive positions!" Sarge directed, standing in the open street, covering the retreat of the wounded from the burning buildings. Him and other Marines slowly wheeling back, trying to hold off the advancing hordes.
"Get him off me! Damn it!" a Marine called, trying to shake off a clinging grunt, holding on to him, as if for dear life.
"Don't move!" Sarge said, taking aim at the grunt. He fired a short burst, killing the small fiend.
"What the hell?" the startled Marine said, sitting down on the snow despite bullets flying everywhere.
Sarge turned over the grunt, and on his stomach was a bomb type object.
"Fall back! Get out of here!" The Sarge screamed, taking the Marine by the collar and pulling him with him.
Ten seconds latter a huge explosion followed by many more all went off, blue blood splattering everywhere.
… Switches back to the Grunt…
They did it! They broke through!" a cheerful cry came from one of the grunts, followed by many sighs of relief.
The grunt took a deep breath; maybe he would get back home from this pointless war. He remembered the warm evenings in his small home world. No one was ever in a hurry, taking it slow. But he was blinded by the propaganda, and he signed up to the army in his narrow vision. Now he was here. Cause and effect.
"We still go!!" The Elite shouted, silencing everyone. The blind hope was dashed, and now only the simple truth remained. Death.
"Forward men! You have two minutes to hurl yourself into the enemy! Charge!" the Elite screamed, but no one reacted.
"You have 10 seconds to move out!"
"10! 9… 8…7…6…5…" he began the countdown, as all guards cocked their weapons in unison, trying to inspire fear.
Some grunts started to go forward, and then followed by everyone.
"Start the countdown." The Elite said, a grin on his face.
…Switches to the Italian…
"New wave coming in." Bill said, reloading his MG.
"Their strapped with bombs too." The Italian reported his rifle barrel even with its cooling devise still hot.
"Looks like our flyboys are winning!" Bill said, grunting at the pain of the old wound.
"Bill, go down and get some medical aid. Can't have you die out here." The Italian sympathetically said.
"Yeah, I'll be right back after I get patched up." He grunted as he got up to get up.
He got up, getting ready to climb down the stairs when a bullet impacted his head killing him instantly, his body falling down the stairs and blood splattering everywhere on the hole site.
"Shit… Bill? Bill!? Damn it." The Italian shouted, but with no avail.
"HQ I lost my spotter, enemy sniper. Going to try to take him out."
The Italian had a vague clue were the sniper fired, but he couldn't be sure. He stood up, a bullet zoomed right above him, and he took his shot. There was no more trouble from that sniper anymore.
…Goes back to the Grunt…
The grunt rushed towards the town, drawing light fire. Most of the fighting was now situated around the center of the town.
He looked up; they seemed to be losing in the skies also, now enemy fighters would break off of formation to strafe.
"Follow me soldier. When we get into a building I'll deactivate the bomb." A fellow comrade said, giving him faint hope that he could get out of this mess.
He followed him like a sheep, if he jumped in a fire I would have went in also. We finally reached the town and went into a building. Our timers read 0:43 seconds left.
The fellow grunt started to deactivate his own bomb, finishing it with around 0:23 seconds left. He rushed to finish the other grunts. Luckily he did with 0:09 seconds left.
For some reason, one started to laugh, and he joined me. Hell, it was like the end of the war for us, but of course it wasn't. They heard many explosions outside, and then remembered the senseless killing of many fine men.
"What's your name?" he asked the other.
"Jebol." I (The main grunt) said.
Kane here." He said.
They started out, Jebol was behind Kane, who walked out onto the streets.
Bang! He could hear it out of all the bullets flying around. It was a sniper. A burst of blue blood came from Kane's head, killing him instantly.
"No!!" I maidenly said, running out onto the street to check on my dead friend. The sniper must have had compassion, because he didn't kill me when he easily could have.
…Switches to Sarge…
Sarge walked out of the burning building, quite stunned. But ahead of him was a grunt, examining a dead friend. The grunt noticed him, his eyes pleading to be spared. The Sarge upholstered his pistol, and stood there, looking at the grunt.
Sarge pulled the trigger, hitting the grunt right through the neck.
"No hard feelings." He said, talking to the corpse.
Another shot hit the grunt, but this time it was a mercy one, killing him.
That was the end of the main attack, the Covenant started to pull back into the woods. Their fighters in the sky started to retreat, and their main covenant cruiser was going down into the woods.
…Goes back to the church tower…
The Italian sat down, throwing his sniper rifle down onto the ground below.
He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and two marines came out, carrying an American flag. They proudly displayed it over the burning village, proclaiming victory.
Back at the Covenant HQ…
"Sir, our combined forces have failed to take Neinville. All is lost." The noncom reported, expecting a harsh reply.
"Well. Now I and Hitler are really in the same position. Well. This is interesting, all we can do is dig in a hold out." The laid back general said, still reading his book.
"Sir? How about we surrender? That seems the most humane way!" the noncom pleaded.
"Out of the question. If we did, there would be a revolt, all zealot divisions would disband after they hear we surrender. We have but one way out of this, death or victory." He said.
The noncom fell silent, he grew pale. The general noticed his dismay.
"You may leave if you wish, surrender to the humans. They will treat you well." The general said.
"Thank you sir."
"Keep this off the record. You'll be listed as MIA."
…
