Chapter 9: Enter Hells gate

Worse was exactly what happened.

Their attack on the restaurant turned out to be their most successful day with light casualties (for them) and the capture of their objective. Even Christmas day had been fairly enjoyable given the circumstances, due to the fact that the basement of the restaurant was still stocked with food and alcohol. For many it was the first Christmas diner they'd had in years and for some it was just their first. Despite this he'd kept a close eye on his Vulpine medic, really not wanting a repeat of their time in Kenya. Although he had been tempted to drink away his most recent memories the fox had been able to resist the urge. He'd only recently gotten the others to start talking to him again and out here the thought of being alone with his new thoughts scared him almost as much as the flame throwers had.

Even the other side seemed to have taken the day off. No shells fell and no bullets flew. It was as if war had never happened and they were only on a peace time excise. The only sound was the wind as it blew through the narrow streets, laughter and music played through badly damaged radios. Penal radio had been established by former penal soldiers who were now unable to fight but still wanted to do something for those at the front and, using some tricks with the radio transmitters, could be played through just about anything and anywhere.

But all to soon the festivities had ended and they returned to their deadly task. A task that had turned into a nightmare. Individual buildings had been turned into strongholds, protected by machine guns, mines and several dozen defenders with no were to go and nothing to lose. Tanks and vehicles could would move through the streets only to be ambushed and pelted with Molotov cocktails. Booby traps were hidden everywhere, ranging from landmines and tripwires to caltrops and spike pits. When they weren't dealing with those, it was snipers hiding in the rubble and poison gas attacks from both sides. They found themselves relying more and more on artillery, air strikes and flame throwers to flush out the defenders. As a result civilian casualties were reaching truly hideous numbers.

When ever they and the other units captured a position they would face an immediate counter attack that would more often than not push them right back out again. What they didn't know, and in fact wouldn't find out until after the war, was that for the months leading up to the battle the defenders had been stocking the city with food, water, ammunition and soldiers. So much so that they actually out numbered their attackers. All those on the ground knew was that they had their objective and they had to complete it. A strong smell of burnt and decaying flesh hung over the city as the dead were left in no mammals land along with the wounded.

The wounded would spend days laying in the open until either they succumbed to exposure or their injuries. A lucky few would survive by either crawling back to friendly positions or waiting until the advance reached them but in that time they would add to the almost constant sounds of groaning and crying that flouted through the narrow streets. All this had made it difficult for Nick to sleep for the first few nights, especially when combined with his first battle experience. All the sounds that he'd been able to ignore in the furnace of battle his brain had logged and was now using to unleash hell in his head. It had made the first few nights torture but after a week of combat he was too tired to care. That didn't mean his sleep was pleasant though.

Now though Nick and the others found themselves in one of the 3 story buildings that made up the residential districts. This particular example had been a forward command post until they'd arrived to evict the prevision residence. The blood was still wet on the walls as Nick tended to Jazz's shoulder by checking the wound was clean before applying a new dressing. With the large numbers of decomposing bodies and blood around keeping even a minor injury clean was crucial or at the very least the vixen would lose her arm. She was his final charge of the day, after this time to relax or as close as you could get in this place.

"There your done" Nick stated in a ragged voice and a tone swimming in fatigue.

The vixen inspected Nicks paw work. The graze hurt and in the heat of the day would throb in time with her pulse but despite this it had stopped bothering her after a few days. "Merci" Despite Nicks inexperience he was adept at the art of stitching and bandaging learning quickly by doing it day in day out. The two foxes sat in silence, Nicks head falling back against the wall with a slight thud. Across from them Ollie slept with his head supported on Sasha's arm. The leopardess didn't seemed too bothered, until Jazz gave her a cheeky smile and wink. Sasha's face turned sour as she gave Ollie a firm shove resulting in the koala falling flat on his side, yet this didn't wake him from his slumber. He stirred slightly and mumbled something but didn't wake up, instead curling into a ball. The little display brought a fond smile to Nicks face as his paws rested on his helmet in his lap.

He wasn't the only one. As John returned from his latest loo break to sit next to the sleeping corporal and begin cleaning and sharpening his bayonet. The weapon had been seeing alot of action in the confined street and rubble fighting. Unsurprisingly given the state of sanitation in the city disease was a serious issue with most cases resulting in explosive bowel movements, John however had the exact opposite problem. Raising his head to look Nick in the eye. "Well Nick I believe I owe you some answers"

Adopting a confused expression the fox attempted to recall what he may be referencing, only to come up empty pawed. "about what?"

The wolf gave Nick a knowing smirk "you remember that talk we had before the restaurant?". Ah yes, that conversation. Nick nodded not wanting to dwell on what he'd learnt. "rape" the voice whispered. "I know you think I'm full of shit Nick" Sasha raised an eye brow "Well now of course I am but, the terms were I ask a question then you ask. You didn't get to ask anything and its time to fix that. So ask away"

Nick eyed the wolf suspiciously. He never gave off a 'warm and fuzzy' feeling and could hide his emotions behind a mask that put Nicks to shame. Still the chance was to good to pass up. "Ok. How did you lose your leg?

"Had a funny feeling you go for that" he chuckled. "In between deployments we used to be placed in prisons, since we had no barracks or bases of our own. Anyway one day a pair of guards were either drunk or bored, maybe both, and…"

"They decided to cut your leg off?!" Nick was horrified and almost thankful he'd landed in a penal unit.

John stopped sharpening to look up "Cut implies they used a bladed instrument. Beaten off would be more accurate."

"You can do that? With what?"

"With the butt of a shotgun and yes you can, obviously".

Nicks eyes fluttered down to where Johns organic leg should be but instead saw the cold, sculpted steel of his prosthetic. "How?"

John when back to his bayonet. "When mammals are born they have more individual bones than when they are adults. This is to make giving birth easier. As we grow older our bones fuse along growth plates and wolfs have one of these just above our knee. Hit this spot often enough and with enough force and you'll separate the limb." John delivered the explanation with his typical cool style. But as interesting as the biology lesson was it wasn't what Nick was referring to.

"No, I mean how can they do it?" The idea that those who were meant to uphold the law would so fragrantly break it, while not surprising to Nick such an extreme example made him shiver.

The wolf gave a small chuckle. "You'd be amazed and terrified what mammals will do when they believe it is justifiable". It was a sobering thought. What could John had done to make his guards feel like this was a just punishment? Was his cold, calculating personality a product of his past?, or the cause of it?

Before Nick could put these thoughts into words, Jazz spoke up. "But don't your leg bones fuse during your teens?" Jazz had been sitting and listening quietly. Truth be told he'd already told her about what had happened to his leg. But when he had the pair had been patrolling in Finland and the vixen had been more concerned about keeping warm than talking which In Sasha's words "was a first"

"They haven't by the age of 15" The two foxes shared a look. He was in jail aged 15?

Both turned to look at their sergeant again and after taking a moment to organise this information Nick spoke "15? how old are you exactly and how long have you been in here?"

John inspected his weapon. Gone was the blood and gore that had been present on its blade replaced instead by gleaming steel. After inspecting to see that the blade was as sharp as possible he returned it to its scabbard. "How old do you think I am?" he asked, cigarette hanging from his mouth and a slight smile on his lips. Nick inspected the wolf before him but quickly decided that trying to guess his age in his current state would be impossible. His fur being matted together by blood and dirt, with dirty bandages covering shrapnel and knife wounds.

Jazz was having a similar problem. Instead she thought back to the day before their attack, when the battalion had gone swimming in the Indian ocean and it was one of the few times she had seen him out of his armour. It had given her the chance to see the true extent of his burn. It ran from his hip, up the left side of his body and arm stopping on the bottom of his jaw. It dwarfed all other marks on his body and yet despite the damage, fur still grew there even if it was thinner than it was supposed to be. In fact actually stopping to examine him he didn't look that old, a tattoo of the battalion standard on his right shoulder still clear as day with no sign of ware.

Nick was attempting the same as Jazz but was getting distracted. John hadn't been the only one swimming, Jazz had too. The lack of spare clothes also meant that she had done so in nothing but her fur. The finally toned muscle on a unequally feminine frame would have made any male's pulse race but couple that to the image of her emerging from from glistening water, dripping wet. It had made Nick feel like an awkward teenager again and had made him take a few minutes for himself.

Nick mentally shook his head before Jazz threw a number out. "25?"

John took a drag from his cigarette "18 and I've been doing this for 5 years" Both fox's stared at the wolf. He'd been doing this since he was 13?

Any questions they had though were interrupted by Klink charging into the room "ALARM! ALARM!"

John flicked his cigarette away before standing and with a firm nudge from his boot stirred the Corporal "Welcoming committee's here"