XX A/N XX

The hiatus is over, and I'm back to working on this story. The revisions to the previous chapters are still ongoing though. 1-6 have been redone, and 7-9 are to follow in a day or two.

X Aboard the RNS Toland, Day Three of Greyfield Strikes.X

The naval force that had attacked the enemy, designated as Task Force 14, was currently lead by the skipper of the cruiser Toland, who also happened to be the most senior surviving officer present. While this was standard policy, it was also starting to become a handicap. The Toland's skipper, Navy Commander Elliot Jameson, did not fit into his post well; he had fallen on bad terms with Admiral Hamilton in the past year, and he dreaded having to report to the intimidating man once he arrived. His exact orders were, in verbatim: "Prevent the enemy from reinforcing their gains or subverting our own". Jameson had interpreted this as to circle through the archipelago and place his ships between the enemy and the ground forces already present, though he had to contact any of them yet.

Down in each ship's Combat Information Center, all weapons officers and naval system operators were monitoring the Lazurian naval threat with fear; considering its firepower, it could wipe them out at any moment. As it was the case, different types of combat illustrated the strengths and weaknesses of each nation's forces. On land, Lazurian weapons and vehicles weren't as advanced as their Rubinelle counterparts, but they were far more plentiful, and they often pressed their advantage in numbers to the limit. In the air, Lazurian aircraft were faster and more maneuverable, in contrast with the more superior Rubinelle sensors and radar systems. On the sea, it was technology versus mass firepower.

Rubinelle ships had highly advanced radar systems—the Navy called it the Aegis System—that allowed them to control the skies and track enemy threats accurately. On the other hand, Lazurian ships relied on raw firepower, using anti-ship missiles that were usually twice as powerful as Rubinelle ones. To combat Rubinelle's advanced radar systems, Lazurian ships could fire off dozens of missiles at once; a group of ships could easily overwhelm the sensors Rubinelle was so proud off. Considering that the Lazurian ships outnumbered theirs by a ratio of three to one, being swarmed by missiles was a very real possibility to the men and women on all five cruisers—especially when both forces sat just within each other's engagement ranges.

The Lazurian naval force's main strength was in the cruisers it had. Two of them were Kara-class vessels: potent and dedicated anti-air warships. The other twelve cruisers were of the Slava class: fearsome surface combatants that could launch over a dozen anti-ship missiles at once. They were just out of range of the main guns of the Lazurian Borodino-class battleship though, and it would have to sail out and around before it could fire on them—but that was the least of their concerns. As far as everyone in the task force was concerned, the greatest threat in the enemy force was the Lazurian Kuznetsov-class carrier. Aside from the forty planes and helicopters it carried, Lazurian carriers were outfitted with a large number of anti-air missiles, as well as surface-to-surface missiles that were a hellish union of an anti-ship missile and a ballistic missile that could severely damage or sink even a heavily armored battleship.

It was certainly a force to be wary of. But, to everyone's surprise, it had been quiet so far. There had been some increased radio traffic when the southernmost island fell, but otherwise the enemy fleet seemed content to stay locked up alongside ground based anti-air units. What were they doing? What were they thinking about? Finding answers to these questions kept the task force busy for quite some time.

It was about sixteen hours after the southern island fell when the enemy finally made a move. Almost simultaneously, all five cruisers were locked onto by enemy weapons radars. Klaxons rang and the already-tense seamen were at complete combat readiness within a mere minute. Although no missiles had been fired yet, the five cruisers immediately locked onto the enemy ships, particularly the cruisers. Anti-missile teams were ready at their control panels, anticipating a swarm of missiles on their radar panels. A few tense minutes passed before the task force commander finally got on the shared com link.

"All ships hold, this may be a test." Down in his ship's CIC, Jameson watched the displays intently, a few beads of sweat running down his forehead. Ships made radar locks on each other during peacetime as a means of intimidation; he prayed that this was a similar occurrence. He'd been a smart and intelligent commander before the war, but after losing his parents and sisters to sickness after the meteors, his mental state had reached the breaking point. It had not been enough to get him removed from his post—an officer being a very valuable resource—but it was affecting his performance. Just several months ago, he'd allowed Lazurian planes to pierce an air defense screen and sink an entire MEU before they even left their assault ships. He wanted very much for that not to happen again.

That was why he nearly had a heart attack when the radar picked up planes being launched from both the carrier and the air fields constructed on the island and heading to the east. They had to be going for the ground forces—it was the only logical thing they would do. In panic, he ordered two of his cruisers to circle around south of the center island and prepare to intercept any possible air strike, while at the same time he ordered a message be sent to the ground forces warning them about the air raid.

It would be the last order he issued, and one that wouldn't be accomplished.

The enemy aircraft, identified as four flights of fighter-interceptors, a regiment of attack planes, and a single bomber, had been holding their position above the island while the ships maintained radar lock on the Rubinelle ships. But, as soon as a pair of Rubinelle cruisers shifted their positions, all hell broke loose. The vast Lazurian armada unleashed a rain of missiles against the three cruisers still west of the island, while nearly a dozen attack planes rushed in to attack the two cruisers on the east side. The Rubinelle ships immediately responded with as many anti-ship and anti-air weapons as they could fire, and the air was suddenly filled with missiles.

What followed was a quick but violent death for the Rubinelle naval task force.

The cruisers in the west managed to intercept nearly a dozen missiles, but twice that number came in behind them. Each cruiser was struck at least twice and suffered catastrophic damage before sinking with all hands, but not before firing off at least three dozen missiles at their attackers. Most of the anti-ship missiles were intercepted by the Lazurian Navy's defenses, but a few got through, including a pair that destroyed a Slava's gun turrets and one that completely immobilized another Slava. A couple of a dozen anti-air missiles launched by the three Rubinelle cruisers successfully destroyed four Lazurian fighters circling above the port, but it left the attack squadrons largely intact, ready for their next move.

On the east side of the island, the two cruisers had managed to down four attacking SU-25s at long range with their missiles, and another plus a Sturmovik with their CIWS (Close-In Weapons Systems). However, an anti-ship missile launched from a Sukhoi damaged one of the cruisers' anti-air batteries, allowing a daring Sturmovik to close the distance and drop a 500 lb. bomb directly on the cruiser. Engulfed by massive explosions, the cruiser went down with all hands.

Unassisted, the last cruiser was soon overwhelmed and sunk, but not without shooting down two more Sturmoviks. After no less than two minutes, all that remained of Task Force 14 were debris and oil slicks on the surface. Escorted by Navy and Air Force fighters, almost two dozen Lazurian attack craft headed south to the now open ground forces on both islands.

X James, Day Three of Greyfield Strikes. X

I'd never thought being a soldier could be such a confusing career. You received orders and executed them to the best of your ability—and it was all for the better of your country and your countrymen. At least, that's how it was supposed to be. I never doubted the former, but I was starting to doubt the latter now. There wasn't anyone meant to be your friend more than your brothers-in-arms, but what I was seeing was tearing that assumption to shreds.

Along with the other companies, we formed a sort of a boundary line that cut the island in half. On the north end you had Lazurians burying their casualties, and Rubinelle soldiers doing the same on the south. Both sides sent hostile glances across the line, and it was pretty obvious that both sides would go through us to get to the other if they really wanted. This wasn't peace keeping; it was preventing wholesale murder.

I couldn't help but think back to the Battle of Darrett that had ended the last war. One of the most well-known stories from that battle was the ceasefire held on the 64th day, when both sides buried their dead side by side without firing a single bullet for 24 hours. Here, you could sense the hostility in the air. Had the war dragged on people's minds that much? It's supposed to be professional courtesy.

At least, this was the last thing we had to do on the island. Every man and woman in the Battalion had been drafted to help clear the rubble by hand yesterday. All of it had been moved to the north and west beaches, and most of the loose dirt from the dozens of craters that littered the landscape had been carried and piled over it all. Marine officers supervised the activity to ensure it was built to stall an amphibious landing. We weren't using any of the destroyed structures yet, but at least we could move throughout the island easily now. Once the burials were done, all that would be left for us to do was hurry up and wait. The NRA reinforcements would arrive soon enough, and when they did, we'd take the other two islands. After that, Lazuria. Just thinking about it was surprising, and it still felt like we were newcomers to this war. And yet, just one huge battle had opened up the possibility of ending the war...

I snapped back to the job at hand before my mind could wander far away. There were some of our men who were standing among the prisoners while they buried their dead, and then there were those of us who were stationed on the border that split the island in two. It was simply a matter of patience; we couldn't tell either side to hurry up and bury their dead, after all. And so, I stood and waited as the hours passed. The dead were buried with as much ceremony either side could muster in this environment. The Lazurians had requested their rifles that we'd seized to use as grave markers, and we obliged after removing the ammunition and firing pins from each one. On the other hand, the NRA casualties didn't have any sort of marker aside from a dirt mound.

As more bodies were buried, several of the prisoners were sent back to their holding area. I'd heard there were plans to move them to the main island, or perhaps further south—it was only rumors at this point. Several soldiers from the 49th also departed as their workload began to decrease. Most of them were actually staying here on the island with us, and so they headed back to their own encampment. The whole thing could have been over with a few minutes when the battle suddenly re-ignited itself.

A loud siren began to wail across the island: it was an air raid warning. It had been a real threat in a battle area this small, so we'd taken early warning and defense precautions and it was paying off. Everyone—we, the NRA troops, and the Lazurian POWs—froze from whatever they were doing and started to look up. The first thing we saw weren't planes, but anti-air missiles from our own batteries streaking up into the air and heading north. That meant the enemy couldn't be that far.

"Damn," I muttered and turned to look at the members of my squad who were spread out beside me. I was going to call out to them to form up on me and hope the message was passed down, but my voice was drowned out by the roar of aircraft engines. Above me, a Lazurian SU-25 suddenly appeared, flying so low to the ground that the whiplash it created nearly knocked me down. A few seconds too late, shells from an anti-air tank streaked the sky where it had been. More attack planes followed with fighters in tow, and then the sky was quickly engulfed by so many planes and missiles it was hard to tell which side they belonged to. It was very easy to recognize the explosions that shook the ground below us as our positions on the island were bombed. The realization that we'd come under sudden attack sunk in, and everyone scattered to find cover. Despite our guys being out here, the prisoners joined in the scramble.

"Damn it." There wasn't time to worry about the prisoners, and it was pointless anyway: anyone who stayed in the open would be cut down or blown up. Ignoring the crowd, I ran and slid into the first empty crater I could find in a nearby road and hunkered down. The Lazurian planes soared above between bursts of AA fire and missile launches, but none seemed intent on strafing anything in this field. Were they attacking specific targets, or were they trying to spare their people because they knew of their surrender?

I scooted back and lifted my rifle when someone, a Lazurian prisoner judging by the clothes, slid in across from me, no doubt trying to avoid becoming a friendly fire statistic. "Don't move," I warned. And then, to my horror, she turned to face me.

"Not fun much, no?" Lada asked, and her eyes curious for my reaction despite the severity of the situation. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear explosions from where the Lazurian planes were no doubt attacking our own men. And here I was stuck in a crater with... this person.

Why does she bother me so much? I kept my rifle pointed. "Just stay where you are," I said, feeling uneasy now.

"Those planes must mean the Kankin is part of the fleet," she mused, staring up at the passing planes. Did that count as intel? I repeated the name in my head a few times to memorize it. "I have a friend who has flown with them. They are proud flyers—" she said something in her native language before switching back to English, "—to work with."

"So, how many of them are here?" I asked. She seemed airy enough that I could probably get something out of her. She lowered her head and looked right at me, a slightly amused look at her face. Then again, this was good news for her country, wasn't it?

"That is a State secret," she said, her expression never breaking. "I can't tell you, but I'll take my pants off if it makes you feel better." I stared, unsure how to answer that.

Where the hell do they find these people? Are they suffering a manpower shortage or something?This had to be some attempt at unbalancing me. "I'll pass." I tried to make it sound bored. While I kept my eyes and the rifle barrel pointed ahead, my ears were open to the battle raging in the skies. There were still the roar of jet engines and propellers, and the stutter of anti-air cannons firing from the vehicles they were mounted on. Was this a pre-emptive strike? Was a follow-up attack coming? Or was this just an attempt to knock us down and hope we fled? If that were the case, they were in for a rude awakening. There was a ground shaking crash somewhere nearby that I assumed had been a plane. Good. The less of them, the better.

Someone else fell in the hole about that time, their foot snagging against my helmet and causing them to hit the dirt face first—another Lazurian prisoner. "Fuck," he muttered through a mouthful of dirt and pushed himself up. His eyes hardened when he saw me. He was bearded and dirty, so I assumed he was from our most recent batch of prisoners.

"Get over there, keep your hands where I can see them, and don't move," I warned. Scowling, he complied. "You know anything about that up there?" I demanded. "Seems pretty reckless to attack an island with your own people on it." The Lazurian Naval Infantryman just shrugged.

"They're getting the most valuable targets—you Rubes make good tanks, but your infantry is so weak they aren't worth the bombs." He eyed my rifle with contempt, as if it was a toy. Well, if they intended to get our tanks, they were out of luck; we had them hidden. "In my grandfather's day," he went on, "they wouldn't even care if we were here. Surrender is the ultimate disgrace."

For the first time, he seemed to notice Lada. She noticed as well and said something that I assumed was a greeting in her native language. I saw his eyes narrow and remembered that her people were some sort of oddity in Lazurian society. Given what I'd seen of her behavior, I had a faint idea why, but it made me uncomfortable nevertheless. I was sitting outnumbered in a foxhole while a battle raged above—and during a burial.

Bad timing if I ever saw it.

"So, which unit were you from?" Lada struck up a conversation with her fellow countryman. "I was in the air assault battalion of the 186th Brigade."

"192nd," he answered, raising an eyebrow. "When we heard your landing had failed, we didn't think we'd ever see you again."

"They caught us at a bad moment," Lada shrugged, "but we've been treated fairly. The 12th Battalion certainly lives up to the rumors."

"Oh, you've heard of us?" I asked, momentarily forgetting we were hiding from an air battle. "Where?"

"The survivors of the desert offensive," the male prisoner answered. "When we launched both flanking maneuvers we thought the enemy had no reserves to spare. But there you were, beating us back both times." He eyed me. "We've heard many things about you people without being able to tell what is true or not. You clearly aren't a regular tank battalion."

"No." I wasn't missing a good propaganda opportunity. "We're much more powerful than that."

"Of course." Both Lazurians eyed me critically—the male one did, anyway. The ground shook as another plane hit the ground somewhere close by, causing little bits of dirt to fall all over us. I wished those planes would've left already.

For a wonder, they did just then. The roar of jet engines and propellers faded, leaving the anti-air guns to roar for a moment before going silent. Fires crackled in several different directions. Silence took over the battlefield for three tense minutes. No one was willing to move in case the planes came back. After five more minutes, I started to figure it was safe.

"It's over," Lada stated with certainty and stood up. The other Naval Infantryman nodded and rose as well.

"Stay where you are," I growled at the two of them as I rose. Though it was no easy task, I eased my way backwards out of the hole without taking my eyes off either of them. Back on solid ground, I ignored my impulse to look around and kept my rifle pointed at them. "All right, come on out."

"Hmph." The other Naval Infantryman offered Lada a boost, which she firmly turned down as she held her nose up at and climbed up the side by herself, using his shoulders as a boosting point. Cursing, he came up after her so they were both back on firm ground again. They started stretching their arms and legs.

"Sit." When they followed, I began to look around me."Damn." People from all three groups were climbing out of their holes, but I barely noticed them next to all the carnage. Smoke plumes were rising from all around the island and out at sea. I turned towards the southern side of the island where the helicopters were. I swore out loud when I saw black smoke rising from that direction. The Lazurian Naval Infantryman laughed when he saw my reaction. "Not so fun to be on the receiving end for a change?"

"Shut up," I snarled. I hoped they missed the helicopters; it was pretty obvious our ships had been hit already, so our ability to deploy was effectively gone if they got the helicopter too. If that was gone, we couldn't evacuate the island; that meant we were as good as dead. I gritted my teeth at the realization.

"Sergeant!" I turned and saw a few of my squad members running towards me. They stopped in front of me, visibly shaking. Unless I was mistaken, one of them had ruined a pair of pants. I could understand that; it happened a lot of times during an air raid. They were all alive, and that's what counts. "Take charge of the prisoners," Karst ordered the others before turning to me. "You see either of the lieutenants, Sergeant?"

"No." I shook my head. "I'll go look. Watch them." I motioned to the two Lazurian Naval Infantrymen.

"You got it, Sarge," he nodded. I quickly set out looking for Anderson and Anson. They'd both been on the temporary HQ, and they had to be close by. Hopefully, they were okay. My eyes ran through the mass of shell-shocked people coming out of cover, trying to find Anderson's distinctive size. I couldn't; it was complete chaos out here. I actually had to stop and stare as everyone tried to pull their own selves together. Some of the 12th Battalion soldiers were too dazed and confused to move, as were some of the prisoners who had to be carried from wherever they'd hidden. Someone from the NRA had apparently taken the distraction as a chance for payback and had to be pulled off from a bleeding Lazurian prisoner. While all this was happening, smoke rose from several different points across the island.

What would happen now?Our victory had been completely turned against us. Even if we got reorganized here, we'd lost a lot of our mobility. We were the weak and isolated prey now...

X 12th Battalion HQ, Day Three of Greyfield Strikes. X

Brenner stood imposingly in one of the café windows. He gritted his teeth as he observed nearly a dozen black plumes of smoke rising in the distance. "Damn it," he muttered, "I need a sit rep!" He turned back to the rest of the HQ staff. "Is Lin okay?" She'd gone to the forward island to observe the progress and interrogate some of the prisoners.

"I have Wolf Pack-Five on the line, sir. She's all right!" A radio operator reported. "She's on the other end of the line." He offered Brenner the headset.

"Lin?" Brenner spoke into the mouth piece.

"Captain," her voice as cool as ever, Lin answered, "we came under attack by enemy aircraft. They attacked our anti-aircraft vehicles and the ships. We've lost some AA capacity over here, but I count at least four enemy planes destroyed. I'm currently unaware of the casualties our own forces have sustained." Brenner knew they'd need a few minutes to get a proper count.

"What do you make of this, Lin?"

"Another attack is sure to follow," Lin answered, "and they want to tilt the balance of power back in their direction before the NRA reinforcements arrive. Our options are to retreat and return with those reinforcements, or to try and hold out against their fleet and their landing force that I believe will soon follow. I predict a fifteen per cent chance of success on the latter."

"Damn," Brenner muttered. The battle was deteriorating so quickly... "Okay, stay where you are and try to get the casualty figures. I'll contact the NRA and Greyfield." Brenner handed the radioman back his headset.

"Sir, we've lost all contact with the center island," another operator reported. That would've been the NRA HQ and the airborne battalion stationed there to protect it. Was it already in the enemy's hands, or were communications down?

"Okay," Brenner acknowledged. "Someone get me a direct channel to the Capital." Will showed up at that time, a worried look on his face.

"Captain, what are you going to do?"

"We'll contact Greyfield to let him know of the situation and explain to him—"

"That won't be necessary, Captain." Brenner turned and saw General Walraven walk into the HQ, escorted by his security detail. "He already contacted me." Brenner hid his disgust at Greyfield's apparent lack of consideration and nodded for the man to continue. "He's ordered us to keep all our forces where they are and hold back the enemy until Hamilton arrives—under the penalty of death."

"What?" Brenner exploded, making every soldier in the 12th Battalion within earshot jump. He was normally a nice man, but he could get angry, too. And when he did, it was never pretty. "This is our battle! What does that idiot think he's doing? He has no idea what is happening here! Our men could get killed for nothing!" Although Brenner's words struck a chord among Walraven's men, the general's mouth twisted at the outburst. One of his men suddenly looked fearful.

"Please sir, we're just the messengers." In spite of his rank, the enlisted soldier started pleading directly to Brenner. "Please do what he says, sir! I have a wife and kids!" His outburst shocked everyone gathered, and Walraven had to put a hand on the enlisted man's shoulder to calm him down.

"Wait, the penalty of death applies to you all, too?" Will sounded in panic.

"I think it applies to all of us, Will," Brenner admitted, and Walraven nodded. "There's no choice. The Admiral clearly doesn't like me very much."

"Commanders always get jumpy during crucial moments," Walraven remarked, as if trying to rationalize Greyfield's actions. Will spoke up.

"This is my fault, Captain. I was disrespectful to the Admiral." Since everyone was looking at Will, they missed the look of surprise that passed over the faces of the NRA soldiers present.

"Don't blame yourself, Will." Brenner didn't even ask Will to explain. "Things can't be changed now. I'd rather risk my own neck, but I won't endanger the lives of my men. We'll follow his orders... No matter how crazy they are." The nods from the 12th Battalion soldiers present showed that they would follow him to the very end, and it was encouraging.

"Yes sir!" Will responded. When Brenner turned to face him, Walraven looked impressed.

"Well, Captain, you certainly don't quit, do you? Odds are we're going to have to hold out for at least a day."

"We may be able to do that." Brenner was clearly thinking. "I want a change in battle plans! Find out if our artillery forces suffered any casualties." While the radio room got itself busy, Brenner outlined his plan to Walraven. "Our rocket vehicles can fire to ranges over thirty miles away, although we normally don't because they lose accuracy after twenty. I know for a fact that a ship's main gun doesn't have that range. If we can protect them from an air attack, we can hold them off by using them."

"They know aerial reinforcements are coming in—they probably won't risk their fighters, which would mean they won't send attack craft without escorts," Walraven mused. "You may be on to something there, Captain."

"Sir, a complete casualty report." A messenger handed Brenner a tally sheet, which he took and read. As Lin had said, the enemy had knocked out two missile trucks and three anti-air tanks, but all the other armored vehicles had been spared because they were hidden, and that included the artillery. The damage to the Battalion's naval detachment was much more severe. Three gunboats had been sunk, the cruiser damaged, and the destroyer had taken two missile impacts and was struggling to stay afloat and put out the fire that had engulfed part of it. Thankfully, the Air Wing suffered no casualties.

The note also included details on the enemy. The attack had been carried out by a mix of SU-25s and Sturmoviks, with the latter making up a majority. Gaining the element of surprise, the 12th Battalion's patrolling fighters reported downing three enemy fighters providing escort and two attack planes. The surviving anti-air units reported downing between four and eight planes, with at least two crashing on the island. The ships also claimed to have shot down several planes. The enemy had paid dearly for their attack, even if it'd been successful.

"This isn't over yet," Brenner decided as he handed Walraven the report to look over. "Find out if the Lazurian Navy has begun to move," he ordered, "and get me all company commanders on the line!" While that was being done, Walraven approached Brenner.

"You have the full support of my division, Captain. Just say where you need us." Brenner nodded gratefully.

"This island only has one of my companies to defend it. If your men can dig in, it'll help us a lot, General."

"Okay then, Brenner. I'll have my men start preparing the defenses," Walraven promised. "You seem to have everything under control here, so I'll go supervise the efforts." With that, Walraven and his security detail left.

"Captain, we have reports that the Lazurian fleet is moving. We believe their intention is to bombard the island," an aid grimly reported.

"Damn," Brenner muttered. "Have we established links with the company commanders yet?"

"I got Coyote-Six on the horn," a radioman reported. Brenner took the receiver and outlined his new plan to his subordinate, the commander of Company C.

"The artillery?" The company commander sounded surprised. "Seems like a big risk, sir." Artillery was called the 'King of War' for good reason: its destruction was unrivaled by any other ground weapon. Any sensible officer guarded his like he would his first born, especially when he didn't have enough air power to back them up. "Those planes might come back, and our AA fire is going to be weak when they do. Seems too risky, Captain."

"We don't have a choice." Always the honest commander, Brenner informed the company commander of the 'no retreat' order. "It's the best option available to us." The other end was silent for a few moments.

"All right, Captain, I'll carry out the order immediately and pass it on to the other commanders. We'll call back once the artillery is deployed and ready." Brenner thanked him and handed the headset back. He then began issuing new orders.

"Get in contact with all our remaining ships! I want everything behind the island and out of the line of fire. Contact the Air Wing commander. I want all attack planes loaded with the best weapons we got. Have all four fighters maintain a CAP above the island after they rearm!" His orders were passed through the proper channels.

Brenner could only wait while his orders were implemented. Time seemed to crawl by, and each minute brought the question: 'Is the enemy in firing range yet?' He remained calm, standing firm in the middle of the room while radio traffic was exchanged. "Captain," another radio operator beckoned him, "Wolf Pack-Five is on the line." He offered his CO the headset.

"Excellent work on the casualty report," Brenner said once he had the receiver on his hands. "I want you to stay there and supervise our defenses for now. If the enemy tries to move their ships near the island, we'll drive them off with artillery."

"A risky move," Lin observed. "I assume we've been forbidden to retreat?" Lin might have been a seer in her past life; she always seemed to guess exactly what had or what was going to happen.

"Yes, that is correct," Brenner reluctantly admitted, "but we're not going down without a fight. Radio me once the artillery and surviving anti-air units are set up. We WILL hold that island, no matter how hard we have to fight for it."

"Understood. Wolf Pack-Five out." Brenner returned the receiver to the operator. As radio communications were being sent out left and right, he took a breather and collected his thoughts. The same thing had happened to his father's forces when they invaded these islands several years ago. Through a combination of his father's commanding skills, the bravery of the troops under his command, and sheer luck, Rubinelle had managed to pull through. Would everything he had be enough? Would history repeat itself? Brenner hoped it would.