Chapter 8: Somebody Else's War

32nd Legion, Approaching Little Round Top

Theodosius Du Marrel, who held the rank of miles in the Imperial Army, marched toward the nondescript little hill with a feeling of dread that few of his current compatriots could understand. Until a few short weeks ago, he had been part of the 11th Legion and one of over 100,000 fighting men of the Imperial Expeditionary Army. Now he was one of some 30,000 men who had escaped the disaster on the other side of the Gate and the subsequent Incursion by the hell sworn who lived there.

At first, he and every other man among the survivors had been put to work by Legate Titian, building defenses, but gradually, most of the survivors had been reassigned to Godasen's Grand Imperial Army, where it was quickly apparent that the Senator had a different set of priorities. New men and officers were transferred into the surviving Legions so they could monitor and report on the reliability of those units. In the meantime, others such as himself had been transferred out.

Theodosius was not certain why he had been chosen to be reassigned. Was it because he was considered particularly suspect? It could simply have been to make room for one of Godasen's 'Objectivirs' as many half-jokingly referred to them For whatever reason, he had been reassigned to the 32nd Legion. As for his former compatriots, the 11th Legion now marched in the center of the army, where they could neither hesitate from battle nor disengage without a 'more reliable' unit at their backs. As added insurance, 'Loyal' cohorts now leavened the ranks of the 'suspect' units. It was quite clear that Godasen intended for a tight lid to be placed down on what had happened to the Expedition.

That had not stopped Theodosius from trying to describe to his new companions just what he had seen on that awful day. They simply were not inclined to listen, as they made humorous sport of the issue:

"So tell us about the Gate Worlders, Miles!" His new commanding Centurion had ordered. "I hear they are all at least twelve feet tall and their fangs drip with blood! I hear their eyes glow a burning red right into a man's soul and after that, a man loses the feeling in his extremity. Tell us how they whoop and chant to their War gods and lick blood from their hands. Tell us, Miles! Is all that true? Is that why you all ran?"

His new tent mates had all laughed but Theodosius hook his head.

"You don't understand. None of you do. They look like ordinary men but they are as different from men as gods and monsters. They don't cry to Emroy or any other god when in battle. It's as if they are completely indifferent to gods. Their blood does not burn like a normal man's would. They are cold. My century blundered into a small group riding in a magic iron carriage…"

Someone had snorted in derision at that. "...or it was pulled by phantom steeds! I only know there were no horses and it moved faster than a chariot at the Maximus!" He shot back. "There were FOUR men. Our Centurion offered them honorable challenge: Whether they understood or not, I don't know but as he charged at them, they struck him down with their thunder staves as if he was nothing to them! Their eyes cold as if even the act of spilling blood in battle, or at least our blood, was no more than killing vermin. Not worthy of hailing to the gods and then they looked at us as if we were rats with those same soulless eyes and started killing us. So yes I ran! I ran as fast as I could to get away from those soulless things!"

The rest of them had all just laughed and shook their heads. "Stick close!" One had told him in reply. "When they come, you'll see they're just barbarians. Maybe when you see how they die, Maybe you'll remember where you left your manhood."

All that was important to them was his self-admission that he had run. The jokes began over who would watch the coward. Whether they needed to take him to a woman so he could remember his manhood. How they would tease him to 'Tell the story again!' But Theodosius knew that he would rather Hardy claim him for eternity and put him to work in the pits of her lair rather than face those soulless men again, lest they devour his soul as he feared they had the thousands struck down far from Emroy's protective embrace.

And now he was marching to face them again. How had it come to this? The second son of a tenant farmer, Theodosius had joined the army lured by the promise of pay, loot, and glory. After his ten years, he could leave the army and buy a piece of land of his own! First, he would buy a little piece of land for his parents so they could have their own garden to till. If the plunder and slaves were as bountiful for the taking as the rumors claimed, he'd buy a couple of slaves for them so they would have a couple of strong backs to help them. His father could watch him raise his own sons, instead of working himself into an early grave. He would be the master of his own little kingdom, built with his own hands, his skill, and his loyalty.

Instead, he saw only the prospect of death and his mother crying over his torn body. He briefly wondered how his friends were doing. Not the idiots marching beside him, but the tent brothers he had trained with, fought beside, played cards and shared humor with. Would any of them live through this?

Ahead, they watched as the 56th Legion was cut down. The survivors backing down the slope to reform on the 32nd. The centurion of the lead century raised his sword to direct his men forward as the Legate nodded and then suddenly the Centurion's head jerked violently back. The man was already dead as he fell from his horse. Heedlessly, the Legate ordered his men on…

"Good shot Corporal." Sergeant Pryce told the squad's marksman approvingly. Apparently, the locals didn't know to stop throwing good money in after bad and it was going to cost them.

Corporal Madigan only nodded the slightest in acknowledgment of his squad leader as he chambered a fresh round. Unfortunately, the other officer had prudently moved back as he directed his men forward.

Further up the slope, the rest of 2nd squad, 2nd platoon waited company's situation had been improved somewhat by the arrival of medics from Charlie Company, along with a squad of men who were busy deploying Claymores they had brought with them in case the enemy decided to try something more sophisticated than a straight in charge and tried to get around A Company's flank. Major Stoltz intended to send two of his rifle platoons to reinforce A Company and hold Pork Chop with the remainder. Still, one could not help but be intimidated by the sight of nearly 8000 men heading up their hill with barely 300 to stop them. Modern weapons or not, everyone knew that if the enemy DID manage to get close, it would get very ugly, very fast.

Some wondered if this crummy little hill was worth it. Captain Decker told them that the longer they stayed on that hill, the more effective the artillery would be in breaking up the huge army bearing down on their brothers and that intended to cut them off from home. That made this ground that A Company would hold dear.

Let the politicians and generals decide on 'war aims' and 'strategy' and the like, These were not the things that mattered to the men on Little Round Top. Let the big shots fight for grand ideals. On this day, these men fought for each other and fought to see home again one day.

In Column, Grand Imperial Army

Godasen glared in frustration at one of the two small hills as messengers informed him of the results of the initial assaults. It was inconceivable that the Imperial Army was suffering such losses while being completely unable to come to grips with the enemy. Taking a more careful look at the topography, he summoned Crassus to his side. Within minutes, orders were being passed. Orders that promised to make matters more difficult for the men on Little Round Top and Alamo East.

Little Round Top

"They're coming again!" Private Rollins announced unnecessarily as the deep ranks of Imperial soldiers began advancing again. Apparently, someone with a brain was in charge down there Captain Decker noted as the enemy front broadened, extending to twice its previous length, the shallower but broader formation meant that it would not be as easy to stack the enemy up under fire.

"Keep your heads down. Aim careful, No rock and roll! Remember, if you see a guy giving orders, drop him. Platoon leaders, squad leaders, fire team leaders… We're not here to fight to the last man. I expect you to use good judgment in deciding when to fall back. Don't wait for orders on this, gentlemen. Now… Screaming Eagles! Send 'em to hell!"

Theodosius looked uneasily back up the hill as Legate Nerva ordered the 32nd to lengthen its lines. Behind them, the 47th Legion had been ordered to join the attack. Around him, his fellow legionnaires were beginning to feel the same dread that Theodosius, himself had lived with for months as they began to march past the bodies of dead comrades or some not yet dead. Some having dragged themselves behind trees or other bits of terrain. Officers who would have otherwise have put such men to the sword for their cowardice ignored them as they fought to suppress their own rising fear.

Alamo East

For the Marines on Alamo East, a major threat was developing as a mass of cavalry began assembling. The gentler slope making for more manageable terrain for cavalry than the steep hillside of Little Round Top. Captain Douglas could call in limited artillery support but doubted that it would stop the force coming at them.

"We'll give them a hell of a bloody nose first." Douglas promised."And then we get the hell out of here."

Vehicle Assembly Area, Gibraltar

Sergeant Minato Akira of the JSDF 1st Tank Battalion waited impatiently for the order from General Hazama to commence 'Operation Raiden'. The fuel tanks had been checked. The ammunition had been replenished. All vehicle crews had finished whatever maintenance was required. Minato's Type 10 tank would be in the vanguard of this attack, less for the 120 mm smoothbore cannon it carried, than for its 70 kilometers per hour speed. General Hazama intended to take a page from the American General Patton, who declared a tank's machine guns and not the main cannon were the true primary weapons of a tank. To that end, great care had been taken to assure that enough 12.7 mm and 7.62 mm ammunition was recovered from the incoming supply trucks to fully load every vehicle committed to the attack.

General Hazama believed one of the best ways to disrupt an enemy attack was with an attack of your own. Sergeant Minato was certain that the enemy would find a motorized charge led by some eighty tanks to be very disruptive.

Now they waited for the artillery to finish its work and then once the General issued the order to attack, Sergeant Minato would give these barbarians who had dared invade his homeland a lesson in modern warfare.

Alamo East

Corus carefully watched the soldiers around him, these 'Marines'. It helped that they had wanted to ask him questions of their own. Basically, things like where he was from, where were the nearest villages, and if he knew anything about the army now moving on their positions.

Of course, he could not say much about the Imperial Army but he helpfully located the local villages. The Marines said something about making sure the villages didn't 'catch accidental fire'. They did not press with their questions, seemingly satisfied that he was just a harmless local.

But now he was in an ideal position to see how these strangers fought He wondered just what else that would reveal.

Imperial Cavalry, approaching the base of Alamo East

Ignoring the battered ranks of infantry, some 2,000 Cavalry had hastily assembled for an all-out charge on Alamo East With speed and the sharpened tips of their lances, they expected to overrun the barbarians holding the hill before them.

In column, Grand Imperial Army

"Damned magicians!." A trooper spat venomously, just in Godasen's hearing as he rode past the ranks.

"And where are our mages?" another complained.

It was unsurprising to Godasen that mere commoners had no real understanding of battle magic. Magic wielders in the Imperial Army came in two general types: The most common magic users were demi-humans, most of them slaves impressed into army service. The demi-human races tended to have a higher percentage of individuals with magic potential. Elemental magic proving quite useful in disrupting enemy archers and in providing limited cover through darkness or fog spells although the current battle was far beyond the scope of such abilities and thus far, wind magic had proven incapable of deflecting the long-range magic used by the barbarians. Elven magic was known to be extremely potent but elves wanted nothing to do with the affairs of the Empire. Their skills in both combat and magic tended to make their small communities not worth the trouble to attack.

As for the majority of human mages, most considered all pursuits other than their own research to be beneath them. The few Imperial citizens with the vision enough to see beyond the mere academic were a valuable resource that took years of training to learn their craft and were not so expendable as common soldiers and were certainly never meant to stand in the van of battle. To that end, mages in the Imperial Army were specialists, much like siege weaponeers. Those that Godasen had available rode nearby in the center of the army, shielded from battle until their talents were required.

Or at least that was the theory. The magic used by their enemy seemed to be capable of reaching far into the ranks of his army. For a moment, Godasen was envious of his enemies. Though known to be a weak people, they had still managed to refine incredible magic. And Godasen desperately wanted to know their secrets. If he could master that kind of power, then no honors, riches, or titles in Falmart would be beyond his reach. Though upon consideration, perhaps the Imperial throne was a fantasy best left as such. No one in his right mind would challenge Emperor Molto without being absolutely certain of quick success. Emperor Molto had not stayed in power without demonstrating a willingness to destroy anyone he believed even a remote threat to his authority. Even with the power Godasen hoped to master from all of this, it would be best to keep himself in his Majesty's good graces

But back to the current problem was that the never to be sufficiently cursed barbarians were tearing bloody chunks out of his army and visibly stealing the will of his men to press forward. IF they could only reach Alnus and get within sword' reach of the enemy! Godasen now regretted dismissing Titian's repeated insistence that the army should remain concentrated on Sacred Alnus itself. Godasen had perhaps let his own ambitions cloud his judgment on that and now a price in blood would have to be paid. Just as long as it was not his own then.

It was this moment that the universe literally came apart for the Imperial Senator and mage. Still miles away, Battery B of General Hazama's artillery fired its last salvo. Guided by spotters on Little Round Top, who; even with the fighting on their hill, had noted an unusually heavy concentration of messenger activity. One gun fired for ranging and then Godasen heard the shrill whistle of death as the shell landed short. The Senator's stomach turned as shattered bodies were hurtled skyward. His mind thinking frantically as he realized somehow the enemy had deduced his location.

"SHIELD!" He screamed to his mages, hoping their combined ability could resist the enemy magic. Then, fall corrected by observation, the other guns of Battery B fired. In the event, Godasen would have been gratified to know that his hopes had not been completely unfounded as the barrier they had put up had, indeed, prevented a tight patch of ground from being chewed into another bloody hole in the landscape. Unfortunately, his horse had been understandably terrified by the experience and reared back, throwing the Senator to the ground, stunning him. Likewise, the concussive force exerted upon the shields his mages had hastily erected left most of them similarly dazed or at least drained.

At this point, Legate Crassus, seeing that his patron would perhaps be a better asset off the battlefield, ordered the dazed politician evacuated to safety. Crassus would have to press this battle on his own. But as the hellish thunder finally stopped, Crassus had no inkling that he was now in command of a battle that no commander in the history of the Empire could have saved as General Hazama calmly ordered Operation Raiden to begin.

Gibraltar

General Patton's comments about the primary weapons of a tank should not be construed as considering tanks as glorified machine gun platforms but rather the recognition that infantry still decided the winner of a battle, as in the end, it was still infantry that held the ground. A tank's mission was to facilitate this in Patton's view, whether that be by fending off opposing armor or by disrupting the enemy's infantry.

In General Hazama's case, he faced no recognizable armor force but he did face a huge amount of infantry that needed disrupting. To this end, The primary weapons of Hazama's tanks were their speed and ability to grind up job lots worth of Imperial troops being almost secondary to the shock they would generate in the tanks themselves were the wedge. Behind them came Assault Vehicles, to whom much of the job of actually killing the infantry would fall. The 12.7 mm guns on the tanks being primarily tasked with anti-air work, fending off the Imperial Wyvern Riders who constituted the Empire's 'Air Cav' units. Mounted infantry in Humvees and their Japanese equivalents would then clean up. Hazama was counting on a sudden, sharp, violent thrust to shatter the cohesion of the huge army in front of them. Events would show his confidence was not misplaced.

Alamo East

At this point, this Second Battle of Alnus broke down into three separate engagements: The Attack of the Imperial Cavalry on Alamo East, the assault on Little Round Top, and Hazama's thrust against the main body of the Imperial Army, as the outcome of the main engagement could no longer affect either of the secondary actions… or at least not in the short term.

Captain Douglas was quite cognizant of this as the massed force of Imperial cavalry began their charge up the hill. His Marines could bloody this force quite heavily but could not stop it. Dropping mortar fire down on the swiftly advancing enemy had already taken a toll on them but Douglas did not want his men to wait until the enemy had a chance to get up close and personal. With their mission to direct the artillery fire from the main base at Gibraltar concluded, it was time to leave Alamo East. The Marines would be back later but for now, the risk to the lives of HIS Marines was not worth any more wasted time on this hill.

"Alright Marines! Time to go! Load up the casualties and get your gear stowed! It's time to get the hell out of Dodge!" Douglas turned to Corus.

"It's your choice to come with us or stay here, but I'm thinking this is going to be a very unhealthy place to be hanging around in a few minutes."

The old shepherd nodded. "Yes, I think you are right. Those men are going to be bitterly disappointed to find you gone when they arrive. I would rather not face their disappointment." Inwardly, the god smiled. It was sad that so many leaders would have insisted on fighting and dying for a hill for no reason other than pride. Corus was not a pacifistic god but blood spilled in the name of glory, ego, or vanity was an unacceptable waste to him. There was nothing to be accomplished by staying on this hill. It was time to go for all of them.

Unaware of the thoughts of his guest, Captain Douglas smiled ruefully at the old man's assessment. "Yes, I can imagine so. Well, just follow Corporal Rice. He'll get you squared away. We'll be leaving in just a couple of minutes." He turned to his radio operator. "Sergeant Hill, get me a pen and a sheet of paper."

"Yes, sir!"

Corus watched as the Captain took pen in hand and wrote out a note and then took his KA-Bar and used it to pin the note to a nearby tree., making sure that the anchor and globe of the Corps were clearly visible. He then strode confidently to his Humvee, checking to make sure nothing else was left behind, then he got in and secured himself.

"What was that about, sir?"His driver asked.

"I left the lease agreement for the new tenants, they decide they want to stay here at our homey little retreat, then they better know who is going to come to collect the rent." Douglas clicked on his mic.

"Time's a wasting, boys! Commence Alydar."

With that, Charlie Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines departed Alamo East, leaving behind a good many Imperial dead and a promise to return.

With the Imperial Main Body now having pushed past the flanking hills of Alamo East and Little Round Top, many were the thousands of Imperial soldiers who greeted the cessation of the unholy thunder of the barbarian magic with a mix of relief and the anticipation that now deprived of tricks, the insolent enemy would be ground to dust before them. Of course, there were still many who had a terrible feeling, some based on their experience beyond the Gate, and others, merely entertaining a great dread, that the worst had not passed.

With overall command of Imperial forces having now fallen to Legate Crassus and the cessation of fire from Hazama's artillery batteries, the resolve of the army briefly rebounded. Or at least the resolve of the army's surviving commanders rebounded. Thus buoyed, they urged their men on, straw men marching into a buzzsaw.

At the front of the line, the battered, bloody, nervous, and angry soldiers who had survived thus far heard the unfamiliar sounds of internal combustion engines running flat out for the first and in many cases, the last time. These men simply had no time to process what was happening to them. This was perhaps merciful as many were still in a state of shock as they were overrun and cut down. Galba was among these men, having ridden to the front of the army to demonstrate his resolve to the men. He, like so many others, died unable to grasp what was happening.

This was in sharp contrast to the ranks immediately behind them who had enough time to see the leading units of the army smashed like a sandcastle under an ogre's foot. Huge monsters from a nightmare world sneezing fire and whose 'feet' were smeared red from the bodies that they had 'trampled' over. These men had time enough for fear but little else. The secondary ranks were now trapped between Hazama's mobile assault and the mass of troops coming up behind them who still had no idea of what was happening. Some men tried to fight. Fine swords of Damascus steel shattered against armor designed to withstand the high-velocity rounds fired from Soviet Cold War era tanks. Some archers managing to loose arrows before being reduced to hamburger by automatic fire. Other men tried to run, scant few succeeding. There was no time to run and no place to run as the following ranks pushed forward, unaware of what was happening in front. Some men dropped to their knees, pleading with the gods for survival, others simply froze, unable to even panic.

Legate Crassus died sometime around this point as he selected one of the huge Type 10 tanks and charged the beast, a war cry to Emroy from his throat. Whether machine-gunned, blown apart by cannon fire, or simply crushed under the tank's treads, no survivor could definitively state. It was irrelevant.

At this point, the army came apart. The disaster was now upon the six remaining legions that had escaped to battle beyond the Gate and despite the precautions of senior army commanders, these men were less afraid of their fellow legionnaires than the enemy now in front of them. In many cases, troops now turned violently on their fellows, determined to cut their way out through their own if need be. By now, even the troops in the rear of the huge formation were becoming aware that things had gone horribly wrong. The commanders of eight legions, seeing the breakdown of the army, elected to withdraw from the field in good order, abandoning a doomed battle.

Little Round Top

The final action to conclude on this longest day was the battle on Little Round mopping up the main body of the Imperial army would go on, the action at Little Round Top was the last engagement whose outcome was to be fully determined. The advantage of terrain and superior weapons balanced by the sheer number of attackers.

Ironically, the collapse of the main Imperial Army added incentive to the attackers: Now denied an avenue of retreat, they had all the more impetus to take Little Round Top. As casualties mounted on both sides, it did look like it might indeed be possible for the Imperials to force the Americans from the hill, until the 47th Legion found itself under attack from their own rear. These men could be forgiven for thinking that the disaster which had overtaken the main army was now coming around to encircle and engulf them but what actually was happening was that, deprived of their own hill, the Marines of Charlie Company had made a high speed run around the rear of the Imperial Army to launch their own attack on the troops attacking Little Round Top. With no place to go, the commander of the 47th ordered two cohorts of his men to turn about and dig in to the slope of the hill while the remainder continued to advance. This was a viable idea if there had been time to dig in but instead, it merely diminished the force advancing toward the summit.

Up ahead, the survivors of the 56th and 32nd Legions continued to advance on the defenders, paying a bloody toll for every foot of ground. Still, victory seemed within reach but with the report of an enemy force at his rear, Nerva found himself between hammer and anvil. He could still 'win' but it would be a Pyrrhic victory at best. Looking to his men as his mentor, Germanicus had always taught was a commander's duty, Nerva ordered the Legion standard struck.

In the middle of this, Miles Theodosius found himself surrounded by his nightmare. It seemed inescapable now. Enemies advancing both from the front and from behind, the legion standard had fallen and soon he would die. He wanted so much to live! To just go home! He clutched his sword tight, bracing himself for the end.

"Do you really want that?" Someone spoke in a voice that sounded a bit like one of his uncles. "Has not enough blood been spilled for Emroy's sake this day?"

Theodosius looked to see a not unkindly old man gesture to him with open arms, standing between him and several men wearing clothes that were a blotch of greens and browns. The men, armed in the same way as other of the enemies from beyond the Gate, looked wary but apparently were content to let the old man speak.

"You have lives with many possibilities. Do not choose to end them now." The old man addressed the small group of Imperial soldiers.

Theodosius and his companions looked at each other and then dropped their swords.

Captain Douglas looked at Corus consideringly as his men took Theodosius and the others into custody. "That was impressive."

"I just told them what they needed to hear, Captain. Now… forgive me but all this excitement has been a bit much on an old man. I am going to go check the stream for any of my flock." He smiled. "May the gods bless you and your men, Captain."

To Be Continued...