Fort Amatriain, Principality of Gallia
May 18, 1935 EC
Corporal Batory Andrzejevski
Squad 1, Gallian Militia 3rd Company
As he sat down in the mess hall in Fort Amatriain in a similar manner as he had for over two months now, Batory had to admit that he was perhaps wrong about at least one thing regarding the Gallian Army.
It seemingly had better food than the Diarchic one.
Granted, all Squads were to be redeployed the next morning to a region in southern Gallia known as the Kloden Wildwood in order to root out an Imperial supply base confirmed to be in the area. According to Landzaat, Cpt. Varrot had put in a special request to the mess hall to give her Squads increased portions and sweets as a way of encouraging them before they set off for arboreal combat as the Army's unofficial firefighters they had apparently become.
Batory understood why Varrot would go out of her way for this show of favor. Fighting in the forest was one of the most difficult things to ask from a soldier. Visibility was absolutely hampered depending on the thickness of the woods and the flora, movement was similarly stymied, and artillery in particular became increased in lethality due to the trees potentially exploding and generating more shrapnel. It was simply too easy to hide assets in the forest to use against the other party – this went both ways.
Despite its baptism of fire at Vasel, the company arguably was not as ready to handle warfare in the forest; the Heavens only knew just how much the constant redeployment of the unit wore out the men. Squad 7 seemed surprisingly fine, considering that it had even less rest than the rest of the company; it had made a rapid night raid at the request of Potter on an Imperial checkpoint near the town of Arlon on the opposite shore of Lake Graz as the capital, on the day after the Crow had discussed the Edelweiss with Isara. But the rest of the company had begun to betray the first signs of long-term fatigue on their faces; Batory wondered just how much longer these regular humans could go on being thrown from one corner of the country to another with so little time in between.
Landzaat certainly was not happy about this assignment; it very much showed on his face as he and Gunther (who was visibly not concerned in the slightest as an apparent fan of the forests) addressed their two Squads earlier that afternoon and went over the general plan. Landzaat also knew that having to fight in Kloden was not a particularly easy task for the Militia. Little wonder it was, then, that he sounded quite eager to tell his platoon that the mess hall was giving them extra portions and even chocolate on demand that evening.
That was how Batory had found himself sitting in a particularly packed mess hall on the eve of yet another deployment, squeezed onto the far edge of his bench and having to share the table with people he barely knew at all. He was simply happy that he was able to find a seat within the mess hall that was close enough to the exit without actually being right in front of it. For all of his life, Batory had been trained to identify all entrances and exits within any room he entered as a way to plot out the most efficient means of engaging or disengaging the enemy. By this point, he was able to instinctively understand how every room was laid out. Being as close to the exit as possible, especially with the hall being as crowded as it was, was only par for the course.
That was also why Batory found it very odd that the archetypal brooding character in Europan works of fiction typically sat in the far corners of any room they were in. Corners were a very easy way of being, well, cornered. Any advantages in not being able to be flanked were more than negated by this major downside. He had already barely saved his own life by being that close to the exits once in his childhood, and those burn scars on his body remained as testament to this incident; the Crow had no intention of falling victim to the same circumstances now that he was an adult.
The Viszevar glanced down again at his meal. It was a collection of fresh vegetables and bread, served with beef stew and butter on the side. If he were to be honest, the warrant officer had never exactly seen so much fresh produce and food in a military hall before. The Diarchic military relied heavily on preserved food such as pre-cooked rice, geonkenyaereu (1) hardtack, and dried fish and fruit with occasional treats like rice liquor and sugar stars; such preserved food was absolutely critical in supplying troops across a rather wide range of temperatures and humidity. Anything remotely close to fresh would have to be made on the go onboard food supply ships or served at long-term garrison mess halls, but it still would not have been as good as what he had at the present time.
Chocolate is also a rarity back home, he thought with some jealousy. Chocolate was no longer such a foreign item to Batory given his extended stay in Yuell, but he still treated it as a rare delicacy to be savored. In fact, the chocolate he received with his evening ration was already stowed away in his webbing, to be saved for another special occasion.
It was all mind-boggling to the warrant officer. All of this high-quality food was the Gallian soldier's typical fare when not out in the field, even before the new mess hall attendant named Martha apparently started working. Batory quietly let out a hmm to himself as he conceded that a smaller country with a relatively narrow band of biomes and much smaller intended theater of operations could more easily afford to increase the quality of its food across the board.
"Hey, something wrong with your food?"
Batory heard a familiar voice from across the table and shifted his attention to its source. Across from him sat a familiar blond soldier with a shock of orange hair, holding in his hands a roll of bread smeared with fresh butter and with a bite taken out of it.
"… No," Batory replied just loudly enough for the Gallian to hear. He was slightly ashamed to admit that he had been staring so blankly at his meal for a bit too long. "… I'm just surprised, Raymond."
Raymond blinked but began to apply more butter on the bread. "Over what?"
Batory tapped his knuckles on his tray, food still untouched. "… Still surprising that standard military food would be this high-quality."
Raymond smiled in understanding. "You and me both, to be honest. I don't even want to think about what you had back home."
The Crow shrugged. "… We lived off preserved food in the field back in Kokuria," he answered. "… We learned how to prepare dry rice and tinned meat, using our helmets if we had to."
He had to admit that he found it ever so slightly amusing to see the Gallian's eyes widen and then immediately narrow. "Cooking in helme- Oh, don't bullshit me, Batory."
Batory gave a thin smile. "… No, you misunderstood me," he corrected. "… We just used the helmets for water and storage… You do not want to heat your helmet up if you want to keep using it."
The young man with black hair sitting next to Raymond, a Shocktrooper in Squad 7 who bore a scar across his cheek and a curious mono-goggle over his eye, elbowed his way into the conversation. "Come on, you got a helmet back then?" He blurted out in a friendly tone, jabbing his own butter knife in Batory's direction. "Wish they'd give me one now, those lazy assholes."
Batory was only slightly familiar with Vyse Inglebard, but he did know that Raymond thought highly of him. It seemed that Inglebard too was a foreigner, stopping by Gallia a mere few days before the formal declaration of war from the Empire; he was able to slide his way into the Militia out of sheer drive to volunteer to fight.
The Crow found it admirable, in particular his alleged tendencies to intentionally volunteer for hazardous tasks – although it seemed to be the case mainly for the novelty. Outside his overly impetuous attitude, Inglebard would have been prized as a Diarchic enlisted man; even his hand-to-hand skills were apparently exceptional. As long as the foreigner did his job correctly, Batory would be content to just let him carry on.
"… Be careful what you wish for, Inglebard," grimaced the Viszevar. "… The money they saved with those helmets probably got us this food."
Honestly, this might be the truth. We still haven't gotten any helmets, but the damned caps finally came in and the food has always been beyond what I'm used to.
Inglebard did not miss a beat. "Oh, no wonder the food's so good here," he chortled, the lights in the mess hall glinting off his mono-goggle as he shook his head. "You know what? Now that you've given me the idea, I'm gonna get myself an Imp ration out there just to see how bad they have it."
"… Try that and let me know how that goes." The warrant officer dryly remarked, only half-joking. "… We threw away those things back in Manju because they were frankly terrible."
"How bad can it get?" The foreigner chuckled as he flipped his butter knife in his fingers with a dexterity that no longer surprised Batory. "Hey, whatever doesn't kill me and so on, right?"
"… If you insist," dryly finished the Viszevar. "… Just know that the sawdust biscuits are choking hazards."
With a wide smile and a spirited wave of his hand, Inglebard turned to the other side of the table and started to bombard the people there with his infallible confidence. Raymond, who had kept quiet after being verbally bodied, remained silent but glanced back at Batory with a knowing smile. Raymond did quite look up to this young man.
The Viszevar simply shrugged. "… He is as self-assured as you said he is, Raymond," he offered.
"Told ya," grinned the Shocktrooper. "I should have him talk to you more often, I think he can teach you how to say more than three sentences at a time. Maybe remind you that you don't have to 'sir' non-coms, too."
Batory let out a small snort with a half-smile. "… Force of habit," he remarked as he looked down at his food again. The Diarchic military always was more obsessed with rendering respect to superiors; Seongnam did not break from this exercise.
The food certainly wasn't going to be kept warm by sheer talk, as much as he evidently needed the practice. He picked up his knife and started to apply the butter to the still-warm bread; the Viszevar had no intention of refusing hot food before another major battle.
/
Kloden Wildwood, Principality of Gallia
May 25, 1935 EC
Corporal Batory Andrzejevski
Squad 1, Gallian Militia 3rd Company
The plan of attack was fundamentally simple. Squad 1 and Squad 7 were to engage in a pincer attack into the Imperial supply base and sack its western reaches while the other Squads covered their flanks and attempted to breach into the eastern half using slightly wider double envelopment tactics. While Squad 7 attacked the southwestern branch of the base with Squads 5 and 6 close by to break into the southeast, Squad 1 was to deploy roughly 300 meters to the north and attack the northwestern quadrant with Squads 2, 3, and 4 making a push for the northeast. The objective was ultimately to force the Imperials to at least abandon the base – no complete destruction of Imperial units was required.
If the Imperial occupants could be evicted long enough, the Gallians could torch the place and commandeer anything the Imperials couldn't deny them. If the Imperials could be permanently driven out of the region itself, it would be even better. Given that Gunther's knowledge of the area allowed for the 3rd Company to find alternate paths to the supply base that permitted the Gallians to bypass much of the existing Imperial defensive positions, the Militia had a good chance of humiliating the Imperials in an unexpected lightning strike for the second time.
Back in his light tank with its stubby 75 mm main gun, Landzaat had ordered Batory to take Mayfield, Jung, and another Scout named Kissinger through the forested areas to the left side of the dirt road. The objective was to scout ahead of the main force and disarm any mines they saw within reasonable reach – and there were a surprisingly large number of them. The three Scouts had Jung with his tools shadow them as they stalked through the Kloden forest in search of Imperials, the rest of the platoon slowly shadowing them.
Even Batory found the going slightly difficult in comparison to Vasel, and he had trained extensively in the mountainous terrain of the Han Peninsula. While his inner voice could inform him as to whether he was about to step on a land mine, his Caelite-derived scanning was utterly unable to detect any of these weapons. After all, the warrant officer noted bitterly, land mines generally do not live. Perhaps it is best they continue to not.
After roughly twenty minutes of cautiously and slowly maneuvering through the forest, with Jung frequently popping out of the woods to swiftly disarm a series of anti-tank mines scattered in plain sight on the road (an Imperial practice the Crow found utterly perplexing), Batory's fireteam saw a rather tall chain-link fence roughly fifty meters forward of its position. The warrant officer immediately threw his right fist back next to his head as he instinctive bent down into a crouch, ordering the men under his temporary command to halt.
All right, all right, muttered Batory silently. What do we have here, you curs?
Batory saw that the defenses here were not particularly strong but still a formidable barrier to overcome for a handful of regular riflemen. The opening in the fence that indicated the entrance to the northwestern branch of the Imperial supply base was blocked by an Imperial medium tank, reportedly christened by Imperial troops as the Vaterland for its mechanical reliability and adaptability reminiscent of their homelands' industrial prowess. Ironically, the boxy tank still suffered from major inefficiencies stemming from its excessive number of weapons, its insufficient number of crewmen, and its use of riveted armor, leading to Diarchic troops giving it the derisive nickname of "Six-Man Coffin." However, it was armed well enough to render a head-on attack against it by regular riflemen impossible from virtually any direction.
Tearing the tank apart with his Caelite claws would have been out of the question, given that everyone nearby would have been watching and that it was hard to hide something so bright. And so Batory continued to analyze the skirmish zone.
Compounding the issue was the pair of heavy machine gun emplacements on either side of the chain link gate. Lightly fortified behind half-crescent sandbag walls and each manned by a gunner and loader, these EWI-era Imperial HMGs more or less ensured that any infantry assault to try and overwhelm the Vaterland tank would have resulted in a bloodletting. Batory also noted roughly another fifty meters behind this gate and on a ridgeline that formed part of the northeast perimeter of the northern Imperial garrison a pair of light anti-tank guns. Based on the number of glowing figures in his vision, each was also manned by only two men: a gunner and a loader.
The Crow quickly found a possible solution. Quickly making a second, wide visual sweep of the inevitable battlefield before him, Batory noted a series of anti-tank traps roughly thirty meters to his 10:00. As the Crow raised his eyes, he noticed through the canopies of the trees immediately surrounding him that the trees growing beyond the anti-tank traps rose in height as they reached further into the Imperial base.
Well, a potential side path, Batory smiled. He felt more comfortable now that he was in command of the battlefield topography. The Crow quickly turned to the others behind him and started to issue orders.
"… Kissinger, return to Landzaat and tell him we have one Medium and two AT guns," spoke the Viszevar to a rifleman in his late twenties with long hair and a blue headband. "… Tell him to start moving and load AP."
He turned to the other two men. "… Mayfield, Jung," Batory continued without skipping a beat. "Take out the MG on the right, and then follow me to the left to flank the AT guns."
All three men nodded without a word, and Kissinger soon fled the immediate area as ordered. The remaining Militiamen crept closer to be able to get a clear shot on the MG teams. Jung and Mayfield finally stopped and drew a bead on the MG team on the right side of the dirt path. Batory did the same, taking aim at the MG's gunner on the left as he concealed himself behind a thick tree.
Even with all of his training and conditioning, Batory couldn't help but quickly and sharply suck in some air as if he were smoking to relieve his tension. He and his men were close enough to not miss the MG teams… but this worked both ways. The only way to really survive this first encounter – at least, for Jung and Mayfield – was to kill the Imperial machine gunners first.
Just before Batory was about to give the order to engage, multiple gunshots rang out to his distant right. He knew his weapons sufficiently to immediately recognize the sharp cracks of Gallian-1 carbines and the deeper bass thumps of the Imperial Kars. Soon after, the report of the Edelweiss's unique main gunechoed in the distance. Squad 7 had just begun to engage.
Squad 7's initial shots were soon followed up by a veritable storm of echoes of gunfire and tank fire from all around the immediate forest. The rest of the Squads had just made contact with the Empire's troops as well. Only Squad 1 remained.
The noise had definitely caught the Imperial defenders in front of Batory unaware. The Imperial MG crews took a brief second to react to the sudden cacophony of rifle shots swirling all around them. That split second of having their attention broken was all that Batory needed.
"Fire."
The Imperial MG team on the left went down before either man recognized what was happening. Batory took the first shot, squeezing the trigger as soon as he gave the command to engage. The gunner's lifeless head instantly snapped back, the rest of the body tumbling to the ground a mere moment later.
His loader didn't have much time to react to his partner's death. As soon as Batory with his heightened reflexes saw his first victim whip his head back involuntary with the impact force of the Gallian 7.92 mm round, he snapped his carbine to aim at the loader's center of mass. Batory squeezed the trigger once more, and the Imperial soldier suddenly became limp, a ragged hole appearing on his breastplate where his heart would have been.
Enemies destroyed.
However, a pained grunt to his right immediately informed him that the skirmish had already started to not go as planned. While Mayfield and Jung had terminated the MG team on the right side of the gate, the gunner was not killed instantly. As the gunner took the bullet to the right side of his chest, he reflexively pulled the trigger momentarily while swinging the machine gun to his right as he collapsed, loosing a short burst of machine gun fire that left a deep wound in Mayfield's right shoulder.
So much for that armor plating, swore the Crow. I knew it was useless.
Immediately grabbing the downed Mayfield by his shoulder straps, Jung dragged the Scout back from his position and deeper into the woods with a speed that no one would have expected from a man of his physique. The last thing Jung and Mayfield needed was to still be there when the Imperial infantry starting to come out of the buildings spotted them. Keeping a low profile and sprinting toward his two subordinates from behind the tree, Batory saw Jung immediately fishing out a roll of bandages and speedily unwrapping it to dress Mayfield's wound.
Good, Jung knows not to use the Ragnaid now, thought Batory as he briefly swung his head back to the Imperial defenses and confirmed no one was making a move to pursue his party. It seemed the local Imperials were content with digging in, especially since gunshots continued to ring out from other directions while the forest immediately before them was silent. I don't want any of the Imps to see a giant blue beacon betraying our positions.
The Crow quickly reached Jung's position; he was quite frustrated. While the immediate objective of killing the machine gunners was achieved, an ally was wounded; half of his original fireteam was now no longer able to push forward.
I should have taken that. At least I've been conditioned to ignore the pain.
Most of it, anyways.
"… Jung?"
"Mayfield will live but he is of little value to us on the attack now," Jung hissed back in his distinct nasally voice. He glanced sideways at the veteran Scout on the ground before him. "No offense."
"None taken, asshole," growled Mayfield, who was still grasping his bandaged shoulder in pain. "But you forgot my rifle, damn it."
Batory knew that Mayfield couldn't stay here, not with Landzaat and the rest of Squad 1 sure to be coming down the road soon. Mayfield would be caught mostly helpless in the inevitable crossfire and a particularly explosive one at that given the Vaterland, Landzaat's tank, and the Squad 1 Lancers. He also knew Jung couldn't stay here, since Mayfield would potentially need assistance getting back and Landzaat would need all the engineering support he could get.
But those AT guns at the back needed to be taken out now, before Landzaat showed up in that two-decade-old mobile crematorium design the Gallians called a light tank.
"… Jung, take Mayfield back to the Medic," Batory quietly ordered. "… But give me your grenades."
/
The Imperial AT gun crews were trained somewhat well; as soon as they heard the entire forest start echoing with the reports of gunfire, they instantly went on alert and confirmed their AT guns' aim down the road they were assigned to overwatch. They seemingly saw the brief muzzle flashes of Gallian rifles from the woods in front of their gate as their machine gunners were instantly slain. However, they appeared to not crank their gears fast enough to engage the infantry and evidently had no shells loaded for safety reasons as they rushed to shove anything into their gun breeches. By the time the guns were loaded and leveled, the patch of forest directly in front was quiet again.
The best they could do was keep focusing down the road and shoot any idiot Gallian tanker or infantryman who thought himself hard enough to show his face around the bend in the road beyond the chain-link fence.
Unfortunately for the AT gun crew closer to the gate, people's fields of vision tended to narrow considerably when focused on a certain point. They never saw the Gallian B-Type grenade sailing through the air, as hard as that was to achieve. Glowing bright Ragnite blue indicating that the friction fuse was activated and the explosive filler primed, the stick grenade flew toward them from their 2:00 a scant ninety seconds after first contact. They certainly never had the chance to react as the grenade exploded as soon as it hit the ground and rolled a short distance, killing both men instantly and consuming the AT gun position in a sizeable fireball as the cluttered munitions around the gun exploded in tandem.
Enemies destroyed.
Batory, crouch-running as fast as he could make it seem as if he were a normal human being, dashed past the smoldering AT gun with his carbine slung on his back and rapidly moved toward the second emplacement. By now, he was well aware of the entire northwestern branch of the Imperial camp probably knowing someone was up on the ridgeline, and his inner voice told him that much. A torrent of information flowed through his head, warning him of multiple Shocktroopers and Scouts who had begun to take aim at the ridgeline where the AT guns were, trying to find out what had caused the first gun to vaporize.
Batory knew that his Caelite augmentation also gave him the passive ability to generate a sort of field that prevented almost all small arms fire from breaking through as the Valkyrur of old allegedly did, but he really could not have anyone see that and figure out what he truly was. He kept as low to the ground as he could manage to avoid incoming fire, pulling out his Archer pistol to take out the second crew.
The crew were not hidden well behind their AT gun's small ballistic shield, and their mental presence betrayed to Batory the fact that they were desperately trying to fish out their personal arms to engage whatever had just caused their fellow artillerymen to no longer exist. They certainly were in no mood to engage Landzaat's tank and his Lancer escorts, which had just began to show themselves around the bend in the trail and had begun to fire; judging by the harsh clang that rang out as if something critical had just been smashed, the subsequent sounds of lance rockets detonating close-by, and the distinct lack of Imperial tanks returning fire, no other Imperials in Batory's immediate surroundings could retaliate against the approaching Gallian tank anymore even if they wanted to.
As soon as the first Imperial finally looked back up and started to raise his Kar, Batory was already pointing his Archer at the AT gun and firing. The first step for Batory was to keep the two Imperials suppressed; with the Archer's 8-round mag, he knew he had enough ammunition for this task. As one of the Imperial artillerymen flinched back behind the gun breech and the other one – the one who had raised his arms first – immediately died to the quartet of bullets thrown at them, the warrant officer rapidly closed the distance.
Batory furiously worked the trigger as his reflexes kicked in. Another two rounds were spent keeping the second gunner suppressed as Batory made his final approach. The Crow soon dove to the ground behind the gun partly to evade any Imperial fire from ground level and shot the second gunner in the torso at point blank range from his flank with the last two rounds of his magazine.
Enemies destroyed.
The warrant officer swiftly sat up and released his empty Archer mag, flinging it out of the grip with a sudden flick of his wrist as he grasped a spare one from his pistol holster. As the empty magazine quietly crashed into the bloodstained soil, the new one already found itself slammed halfway into the receiver. Another lightning-fast rack of the slide later, the Archer was ready to fire.
Not wanting to isolate himself from support, Batory decided to hold position at the second AT gun, using the gun as cover from incoming small arms fire while he suppressed the Imperial infantry attempting to restore combat order in the camp below him. He holstered his sidearm and soon threw another of Jung's grenades down at the gathered Imperials, if only to try and force them to break formation. Even before the grenade hit the ground, Batory prepped his carbine. Checking to see it was fully reloaded, he began to fire at the Imperials down below.
/
The Vaterland tank at the gate did not last long against Squad 1, something the Crow hoped was a symbol of what would become of the Empire as a whole. While its armor was arguably enough to withstand one anti-tank asset at a time, the combined weight of fire from Squad 1's light tank and its Lancers was too much for it. Already unable to fire its main guns and the machine guns doing ineffectual damage to the incoming armor and heavy infantry, the Imperial tank simply rolled back from the gate and deeper into the camp in a desperate attempt to avoid its final fate. Squad 1's Lancers fired another volley of Lancaar rockets before the tank had reversed more than twenty meters, the HEAT munitions finding weak spots in the frontal armor and setting the vehicle on fire. Only one man spilled out of the turret, burning and shrieking before being soon put out of his misery by the Squad 1 Shocktroopers and Scouts approaching the entrance.
With the Vaterland down, Squad 1 stormed in through the chain-link fence and started a brawl; its Snipers found their way alongside Jung and Kissinger up to the ridge where Batory was taking his time picking targets and ending them. Sensing their approach and just running out of ammo in his current mag, Batory shrunk back behind the anti-tank gun while he conducted a rapid mag change.
"Corporal," Jung shouted to Batory. "The Snipers are all here, and Kissinger as well! But…"
Batory didn't answer; he didn't need to. He saw Kissinger on his hands and knees gasping for breath, taking enough care to get out of the line of fire but otherwise completely ignorant of whatever was going on. The running Batory made Kissinger do in a short period of time evidently sapped his strength completely.
"… Stay here and provide cover for the Squad," Batory calmly responded back, trying to contain his irritation at Kissinger. The man knew he had no stamina whatsoever, and he decided to try for a Scout position?
Jung nodded in agreement as he pulled back his bolt to confirm a full magazine. "As you wish. Also, my grenades if you please."
Batory wordlessly rolled him his last two B-Type grenades – one of which was Jung's and the other being Batory's own. "… They were put to good use… Thank you."
6:00 Enemy 12 Range 80 Outflank
It was about this time that Batory instantly sensed a fresh batch of contacts from behind him; Jung, with his shocked expression and his immediate dive into a prone position, indirectly confirmed this for him. Batory swung his freshly loaded Gallian-1 and peered south one more time.
The Empire had brought reinforcements, considerably sooner than either Squad 1 or Squad 7 had anticipated. Roughly two squads' worth of Imperial Shocktroopers and Scouts – approximately twenty men – stormed into the northwestern half of the supply base from the south, acting much more competently and tactically than the previous batches of Imperial soldiers the Militia had fought at Vasel and even at Meppel. These Imperials wore black armor highlighted at the edges with brass. Batory immediately knew who they were – he had encountered them at Manju. He had even had to kill some of them back then.
Imperial Guard.
There's an Imp commander here. Now.
"Never mind," Batory found himself speaking louder than usual, and more quickly. "We're outflanking them."
Batory glanced at the Snipers, Regard and O'Hara. "Regard, Catherine, keep overwatch on this ridge. Kissinger, cover them as soon as you catch your breath."
The two snipers voiced their affirmation; Kissinger, just starting to recover but still keeled over, wordlessly gave a thumbs-up.
Batory turned to Jung, his rate of speaking still accelerated out of urgency. "Follow me and pay special attention to these Imps."
/
The Imperial Guard, despite their initial strong push into the northwest branch of the supply base with support from the surviving base guards, soon took to engaging in a fighting retreat in the face of the fact that the Militia had a tank and a pair of Snipers. Making smart use of cover among the scattered sandbag walls and the storage sheds, the Guardsmen and their rank-and-file brethren were able to suppress Squad 1's Scouts and Shocktroopers and mostly break their momentum.
In retaliation, Landzaat's tank started to liberally deploy its HE shells and co-axial MG; combined with Regard and O'Hara's marksmanship and the sheer volume of Militia fire, the Imperial Guardsmen soon found themselves with a quarter of the men they started with, the regular infantry either dead or surrendering as they were overrun. As Batory and Jung sprinted along the ridge that led them to the opposite end of this part of the wider base complex, Batory saw the Guardsmen maintaining their discipline. They did not break in the face of fire inferiority and appalling casualties, but merely leapfrogged from cover to cover to keep Squad 1's heads down while trying to reduce any future casualties.
As Batory expected, the Guard was made up of seasoned veterans. Based on KISHIN analyses, the Imperial Guard was made up of fanatically loyal soldiers handpicked by senior Imperial commanders to act as their bodyguards and as specialist reserves, with the blessing of the Imperial court in Schwartzgrad. In short, the more of them he killed, the warrant officer concluded, the worse off the Imperial forces in Gallia would become. Batory intended to make hay while the sun shined.
Finally reaching the downhill slope of the ridge that brought them to the southern limit of this half of the larger supply base, Batory and Jung stopped to re-evaluate the situation. There was a makeshift wooden wall running north-south and another short stretch of chain-link fence perpendicular to it that separated the two Militamen from the remaining Imperial Guardsmen still engaged in their fighting retreat. Glancing to his right and briefly concentrating, Batory made out the glows of at six Guardsmen, a seventh glow immediately being snuffed out through Squad 1's volume of fire.
8:00 Enemy Tank 1 Range 70
The Edelweiss can handle it, I presume, silently thought Batory as he made to move toward the last remaining Imperial Guardsmen.
It was at that moment that Batory heard the unmistakable sound of a high-caliber, high-velocity Imperial artillery piece, and a horrifyingly loud gonging sound that betrayed the fact that a tank was hit very hard but had survived with a ricochet. He never showed it on his face, but it struck brief fear into his very soul. It was last stages of the Manju campaign all over again.
122, he hissed quietly to himself. Gods, you can't do this to me.
"Oh, I am not paid enough for this," hissed Jung right behind him as if to confirm that indeed, the situation was exactly as Batory had feared. He almost certainly heard the 122 mm as well and was merely reacting in horror, as any reasonable person should have at the sound of an Imperial corps-level gun with enough muzzle energy to sling a shell up to just over twenty kilometers.
Batory quickly glanced back to the south where he heard the report of the 122 mm and saw to his great displeasure a giant, brick red tank at the northern entrance to the southwestern reaches of the supply base. The tank was nothing like what he had seen before, with a bulk and a main gun that put existing Imperial Kaiserreich-class heavy tanks to shame. The Crow watched for a scant moment, waiting to see to which direction it would commit its gun before making any further movements that could jeopardize his and Jung's position.
To Batory's amazement and relief after observing the tank and its immediate escort for two seconds, the detachment seemed to be unaware, or uncaring, of Squad 1; it continued to engage Squad 7, presumably due to the Edelweiss. No other sister vehicles presented themselves in the area, and all directly visible Imperial infantry that weren't already engaging Squad 1 were moving in the direction of Gunther's platoon.
Out of Jung's sight, Batory let out a brief exhale in relief. Only six tin men between Jung and me, he thought. No tanks. He turned back to Jung, erasing any signs of emotion off of his face by then out of reflexive habit. Now that he had the Guardsmen isolated and exactly where he wanted them, Batory could relax – and his speech reflected it.
"… Jung," Batory motioned to Jung's hip, where the two grenades hung. "… Throw a grenade over the fence and overwatch the south… I'll go and flank."
"Surely you saw that tank as well," hissed Jung, low-intensity terror manifesting in his eyes from behind his square spectacles. "Are we clear to move?"
"… Yes, it is engaging the Sevens," confirmed the warrant officer. "… We must move now."
Jung nodded with some trepidation, and immediately set his carbine down on the dirt to retrieve a B-Type. Hastily unscrewing the safety cap and sharply tugging the ripcord, Jung hurled the glowing grenade over the fence. Batory heard the Engineer grumbling with that nasally tone about how demolition work would surely cost extra, but paid him no mind.
Batory didn't wait to confirm Jung's throwing skills; he immediately took his Gallian-1, half-opened the receiver to check for a full mag on the move, and waited at the end of the wooden wall waiting for the grenade to go off. An instant after hearing and feeling the concussive blast of Jung's grenade, Batory swiftly swung his body around the wall, shouldering his weapon in one fluid motion and intending to shoot the Imperials through the chain-link fence.
Jung had reduced the six guardsmen to five combat effectives, the one closest to the wall and to Batory's 2:00 mutilated into a bellowing mess with both legs forcefully liberated from his body. Recalling the part of his Seongnam training in which his instructor told him just how quickly a human body could exsanguinate itself, Batory considered the Imperial to be no factor. As for the other five…
The first and second men Batory engaged were on the other side of the camp from Jung, taking cover behind a storage shed from the increasingly more potent Squad 1 submachine gun fire. They had seen and felt Jung's grenade go off as well, and as such had broken their concentration from Squad 1 to check their rear. They didn't move fast enough – the last thing they saw was a Gallian Scout with a dinky field cap pointing a rifle at their heads as its muzzle flashed three times through the fence.
Enemies destroyed.
The third target was actually closer to Batory. He was only several meters ahead of the legless Guardsman; as such, he was only knocked down to the ground with a significant concussion, and had presented a lower-priority target to the Crow. As the Guardsman struggled to get up, Batory stepped back to gain more clearance for his weapon, immediately realigned his aim, and put a single 7.92 mm bullet in the left side of his head.
Enemy destroyed.
Batory didn't even bother with the legless man, who at this point remained alive but eerily still. He had combat effectives to kill in support of the platoon.
The fourth man was alongside the fifth in a forward position behind what could have been a sandbag wall, trying to hold his position against the Gallian Militia. For whatever reason, the fourth man suddenly broke into a dead sprint away from his cover, immediately putting himself in Batory's field of fire.
However, the Crow missed his shot for the same reason the Guardsman ran. The moment the Guardsman crossed into Batory's field of vision, a glowing high-explosive tank round smashed into where the fifth Imperial still was. This fifth Guardsman simply ceased to be. The shockwave of the HE shell stunned the fourth Guardsman and flung him to the ground right when the Viszevar pulled the trigger, causing the Crow to barely miss his target.
Tongue-lashing himself internally for failing to see this coming, Batory sprinted around the chain-link fence as soon as he confirmed Squad 1 had ceased fire. He intended to finish off the Imperial himself.
5:00 Allies 2 Range 80 Finish Him Now
The warrant officer quietly harrumphed, half in surprise and half in satisfaction. It had to be Squad 7 coming in to link up with Squad 1. He didn't anticipate them to have blown through the tank and whatever reinforcements the Imperials must have sent their direction so quickly, but it was in a sense appreciated. Batory confirmed with a snap look to his rear that two Scouts from Squad 7 were rapidly closing in onto his position, roughly 100 meters and closing. It was easy to see them just by Melchiott's red bandanna over her head and the fact that there was no more giant red tank in that vicinity to distract anyone.
Based on his scanning and detecting scores of warm bodies moving east in a hurry, the tank, along with the survivors of the Imperial Guard and the wider camp garrison, was already in the process of pulling back; the Imperials were already outside direct line of sight. Batory chalked up Landzaat not engaging the rear of the tank to his desire to address the more pressing concern of neutralizing the Guardsmen already killing his men, and a possible and understandable desire to avoid punching above his weight class in armor. The Crow certainly was operating with the same intentions whether he wanted to or not.
Batory resumed his approach to the Guardsman in a slower trot as he saw the latter immediately reach out to grab his submachine gun. It was inspiring in a sense; even though the Imperial most certainly knew that all was lost, he still found the drive to pick up his weapon in a final show of defiance. It was very Kokurian or Yamataian; virtually every Imperial Guardsman showed such fanaticism, and this Guardsman was definitely still armed.
This determination to go down swinging was also why he had to die, before he inflicted any more damage to Squad 1.
Batory raised his carbine to the Guardsman's head as the Imperial looked up, attempting to swing his ZM MP up with his gaze. The Crow experienced a certain curiosity at seeing the expression on the Imperial's face turn instantly from blind rage to desperate panic behind his helmet's faceplate, almost as if the man was begging in his last moments for the Crow to not shoot.
One day, it might be him in the Guardsman's place – beaten, prostrate before his opponent, and committing to one last act of defiance against the enemy. This possibility came with the job; the response came with being a Diarchist, locked into a perpetual state of suspicion and loathing toward most Europans. Batory only hoped that he for one would mask his final thoughts behind his perpetual emotionless exterior, maybe even come up with a pithy insult if he had the brain cells left, so that his killer would be denied the satisfaction.
Apparently, some members of the Militia agreed with the Guardsman's silent pleading by coincidence. Batory heard Raymond's distinct voice from in front of him shout, "Hey, wait!" the instant he pulled the trigger. The Imperial's fresh corpse instantly slammed back onto the dirt trail forming the backbone of this half of the Imperial supply base, his MP clattering back onto the soil of Kloden. No glow remained around his lifeless form.
Enemy destroyed.
Batory felt the Shocktrooper approaching him from his front and looked up. Sure enough, Raymond was just beginning to slow down from a sprint, letting out a winded breath as he glanced for a scant moment at the dead Guardsman and back up at the Crow.
"What the Hell, man?" Raymond blurted out breathlessly. "We could have taken him prisoner!"
"… You saw how he had a gun in his hand, Raymond," calmly retorted the warrant officer as he began marching north to meet up with the rest of his platoon. He kept facing forward, declining to face the Gallian. "… Imperial Guard does not surrender, ask me how I know."
"Well," verbally struggled the Shocktrooper, keeping pace with him again. "What if he was?"
"… How would you know?" questioned Batory, keeping his patience. Raymond was still young and arguably still not as realistic regarding the fanaticism of Imperial troops of certain qualities. Batory wanted to teach him how Imperials could truly act, mainly for the purposes of making him a better soldier – or so he told himself. "… He was armed and brought his weapon up to my level, so I took the reasonable last step."
"I- I guess," stammered Raymond as he seemed to recognize that fact as well. "I've just never seen you be this callous before."
"… He… Was… Imperial… Guard," repeated the Crow as he gave a gesture to the rest of Squad 1 to stand down. The skirmish was over, and he detected no additional hostiles within visual range or extended mental range. "… The man was evidently getting back up with the intent to kill, he was not going to surrender… They never do."
"But they're still people, Bat," shot back the Gallian. "One of them eventually has to, right?"
Batory didn't answer that question. It could be that Raymond was right, from a strictly statistical perspective. Maybe the man's final expression on his face before the Crow pulled the trigger was indicative of him having second thoughts. But hesitation was part of the reason that Batory found himself in the dressing station at Manju. Against a foe that sought his total destruction, he could spare no second thoughts; he could not second-guess his actions.
Right?
"… I don't know," quietly spoke Batory as he finally glanced back at Raymond. "… But I did what I must, and I consider the matter settled."
Raymond seemed as though he wanted to say something, but ultimately did not. All he had was a worried expression.
/
16 kills today, Batory calculated. 10 by carbine, 2 by handgun, 4 by grenade.
Carbine ammunition and handgun ammunition depleted a third of the way. 30 carbine rounds for 10 deaths, 8 handgun rounds for 2 deaths, and 2 grenades for 4 deaths, all taking suppression into account.
Improvements can be made. Now, about that tank…
"I don't even know how big that gun was," sighed Milton to Batory as the two along with Hawkins, Lt. Gunther, and Potter stood at the northern edge of the southwestern corner of the base. The three Squad 1 personnel present were tasked by Landzaat with gathering as much information regarding the tank as possible based on whatever eyewitness accounts were available and whatever physical evidence it had left before it withdrew with a good chunk of the stored supplies in the base. Evidently, Landzaat too had a vested interest in determining what exactly it was that he had seen through his commander's cupola roughly 150 meters out and that had also put the fear of the Valkyrur in his heart and that of his gunner. "It's certainly a lot bigger than what even the Edelweiss has, I can say that."
"I'd agree with that," piped up Hawkins in his typical cynical tone as he shifted his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. "I'm not sure if we have anything that size in our own armory. Army's definitely not been sharing much."
"Well, from what Elle told me," shrugged Potter with his thick arms crossed over his broad chest, "The Army keeps a bunch of tank destroyers, apparently using the same shells the boss-man's tank does."
"… 88 mms, then?" Batory asked. He of course knew these tank destroyers existed; the Gallian Army seemingly started to prototype these vehicles sometime in the second half of 1934. The Crow had seen a few of these vehicles stored away in one of the military's larger depots only shortly before the start of the wider Europan war, in his intrusions during the University of Yuell's 1934-1935 winter break. He was never quite able to get precise measurements for the bore diameter or much of anything else regarding the vehicle for that matter; based on the pictures taken, Batory and KISHIN had thus assumed an 88 mm gun given that the Gallian Army still had a fair number of 88 mm artillery pieces and that tank destroyers typically had bigger guns than their regular turreted cousins.
"Yeah, that's what she tells me," nodded the Lancer. "She doesn't get to hear much from Damon and the other clowns, but they seem to do the job well enough. Really not too many of these things, though."
"I've never seen any of them," grumbled Milton with an air of frustration, most assuredly not entirely from just the pressing matter of the enemy tank. "Army's keeping those all to themselves, too, huh? Do we even know where they're sending these tank destroyers?"
"Nowhere useful for us, that's for sure," hissed Hawkins. "Even if they do send us a few, I'm not sure if it'll matter by that point."
"… Was the tank able to land a shot on you, lieutenant?" Batory asked Gunther, trying to gauge if at all possible the damage potential of the tank against armor as well as its own resilience. He had seen the high-explosive damage the 122 mm guns could output, but as far as KISHIN was aware based on reports from its agents in the OKR and the Imperial industrial conglomerates, the gun did not officially undergo proper prior testing for AP ammunition. "… Or was it able to put HE downrange against your platoon?"
"Thankfully not at the rest of the Sevens," smiled Gunther as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "It hit the Edelweiss once, but it didn't get a good angle on me. I didn't think the entire tank could ring like that."
"… It sounded like a 122… Is your sister unharmed?" Batory's concerns were real. Isara may have been much closer to knowing what he was truly doing in Gallia than did others, but she was too valuable to be removed from the fight.
"Is should be OK," replied Gunther as he exhaled in relief, although his tone carried a hint of concern. "Jack is swearing up and down that he's going to kill that tank the second time he sees it, but I'm not entirely sure if he can hear anything right now given that the shell ricocheted off his side of the turret. Fina's taking a look at him."
Batory blankly stared at him. "… Who?"
"Oh, right," exclaimed Gunther in some surprise. He tapped the palm of his left hand with his right fist. "Jack's our gunner. Apparently he's from Vinland to volunteer."
"… No, I meant the other one," clarified the warrant officer. "… I have already heard about your gunner Larson, sir."
"Oh, our Medic," smiled Gunther. "Fina Sellers. She's your Medic's sister, I think."
"122s, huh?" Potter rumbled, interrupting the flow. "And how'd you figure that?"
"… There were only three things that put the fear of the Gods in our hearts at Manju," answered the warrant officer as he glanced back at the large man. "… The Imperial superheavy, the Imperial armored train, and the Imperial 122 mm field gun… We learned quickly to recognize the sound of the last one."
The Gallian let out a slow whistle. "That bad, huh?"
"… It outranged our 127s and everything else we had, so yes," confirmed the Viszevar. "… And unlike the other two things I mentioned, the Empire had many of these pieces… We instinctively came to know them when we heard them."
"From that close, though?" Potter looked skeptical, furrowing his brows. "Both you and I could probably have seen that stupid cow skull on the turret, Battery. Field guns don't get into fisticuffs range."
"… Yes," sighed Batory. "… We had to get close to destroy some of them back at Manju… It was dirty business." Ignoring Potter's surprised look and the shrug that came immediately afterward, Batory looked back at Gunther. "… I wish your gunner a quick recovery, sir, but were you able to take a shot at the tank?"
"Thank you, Batory," sighed Gunther with a weary smile. "And we were able to take a shot at it since it was slow, but Jack couldn't do anything to it. The tank was built like a rhinoceros beetle."
"Imp infantry kept me and Walker from getting a good shot on it," grumbled Potter with a shake of his head. Whether it was from his failure to mission kill the tank or from Gunther's nature analogy was beyond the warrant officer. "Hit the parts that didn't matter, and the bastards almost got me. Walker's not letting me hear the end of it."
Batory didn't say anything to this latest remark. His concerns at the implications of this tank were considerably amplified. If it was a member of the planned next generation of Imperial heavy tanks that KISHIN received constant reports of from its agents in the Empire, then the next inevitable war against the East Europans would be considerably more challenging for the Diarchy. It was something that he had to confirm to his handlers soon – a heavy tank that could withstand an 88 mm shell at virtual point blank range was not to be underestimated under any circumstances.
"… I see," finished the Crow as he nodded his head at Gunther and then to Potter. "… Thank you for the input, sirs… Lt. Landzaat will appreciate it."
Potter let out a brief guffaw. "Me? Sir? That's a first. I kinda like that." With that remark and bearing an amused grin on his face, he walked back south to the rest of his platoon. Gunther gave a nod in return to the Viszevar and followed his NCO.
It might theoretically be able to withstand the 80 mm supervelocities we deployed soon before Manju, Batory pondered, thinking back to his homeland's military. Our new 80s and 105s are only starting to become operational from what I understand, but we wouldn't have enough of those until next year or so if KISHIN's guesses are correct.
I hope this is a unique tank, some Imperial aristocrat's special pet project.
Without a doubt, as much information regarding this enemy tank was to be put to ink on tonight's letter to Sugihara and the attaché. Batory told himself to even follow it up with them personally if he was given leave. With that, all that could be done at Kloden was done; it was time for Batory and the Militia to return to Amatriain to rest and regroup for the next emergency.
Well, almost time.
"Listen," snorted Milton once the two Sevens were beyond earshot. "All I'm asking is that when we do kill it, I at least get to take a gander at it. That's fine, right?"
"Same," muttered Hawkins. "Might be something useful I can get from seeing what's left of the machinery."
Batory shook his head at these very curious priorities as he turned to examine the tracks left by the hostile tank once more. "… Yes, that's fine."
"So, anyways," smirked Milton abruptly, although there was a slight tinge of trepidation in his voice. "What's the story between you and Gunther's sister, Batory?"
"… She teaches me some things, and vice versa," quietly answered the Crow, not appreciating the implications. "… Why?"
"Eh, nothing," shrugged Milton as he crouched down next to the tracks left by the Imperial vehicle and made to measure the width with a nearby stick. "You sounded concerned for her in particular."
"… She maintains the Edelweiss, Milton, of course I would be concerned." Batory shook his head as he also crouched down to get an estimation of the track width for KISHIN's added benefit. "… Kindly remove your head from the gutter and give me a measurement with Hawkins."
Milton smiled wider and gave a snort; he was now entering a field of his expertise, and the fear in his voice went away. "Well, you gotta fancy someone sooner or later," he chortled. "You can always ask me for help, Batory, I know how this works."
"… How old is she," blandly questioned the Viszevar. "And how old am I?"
"OK, maybe not with her and you gotta work out the part where you just shoot Imperials in the face," shrugged the Gallian, the second half of his statement being weighed down with that same air of concern as before for only a scant seemed as though the talk about women overrode his underlying fears of something, presumably Batory's last shot of the day. "But there's gotta be someone here somewhere you'll like and vice versa, right?"
"… I'm not desperate, Milton," muttered the Crow as he stared blankly at the Shocktrooper. "… I would be a terrible partner as you said."
"Fear's the mind-killer, Batory," chuckled Milton as he finally put the stick on the dirt imprint. His expression didn't change in the slightest as he looked at the tracks, which concerned Batory for the wrong reasons. "And look at this beauty. Hawkins, gimme those tools and measure the depth for me."
"Sure," murmured Hawkins as he retrieved his set of machinists' tools and began to take measurements. "You want to be precise for this kind of thing."
"Oh, this tank is fine," laughed the Shocktrooper as Hawkins confirmed the depth of the track imprints. He glanced back up at the warrant officer with a glimmer in his eye. "Absolutely sexy. Gotta be at least fifty tons just based on how wide and deep the tracks are."
"How are you so sure about this, Milton?" Hawkins quipped at Milton as he began to clean his tools. "You're no Engineer."
"Well, what else should I do in my down time other than ask the Engies about the tanks?" Milton chuckled as he turned his attention to the morose machinist. "If I can't work on those lovelies, I may as well ask about 'em from the people who do. Come on, Hawkins."
Fifty tons at bare minimum, I see, grimaced Batory as he simply nodded and let Milton and Hawkins prattle on about the unknown tank. Gods.
/
Casualties were surprisingly light within Squad 7 again, but the other Squads took heavier losses. Sgt. Reddy and a handful of Shocktroopers and Scouts were confirmed KIA within Squad 1, mainly due to the surprise counterassault of the Imperial Guard. Outside Mayfield, Shocktroopers Salinger and Cheslock were hit but not badly; they were expected to recover in less than a week with the proper application of Ragnaid. Lancer Selden reportedly suffered a sprained right hand after she pummeled an Imperial ambusher multiple times in the head to stun him into submission, but was also expected to fully recover within a short time. Engineer Nielsen and Sniper Regard took some ricochets, but their wounds were negligible in comparison and fixed with Ragnaid on the spot.
Sellers, the new Medic and apparently one of a set of triplets serving in the 3rd Company, was recently transferred to Squad 1 from Squad 3 for whatever reason. The first replacement for the dead corpsman at Vasel had catastrophically cracked under pressure at Meppel. The young woman was more than a fine replacement for this second Medic, as she was uniquely skilled at tending to injuries and putting her patients at ease.
That being said, Squad 1 would have to find replacements for the dead and wounded in the interim; the other Squads were about as damaged, their attempts to break into the more weakly defended eastern areas of the larger base thwarted long enough for the supplies in that area to be spirited away by the Imperial garrison. Batory knew this was going to inherently reduce combat effectiveness, as the veterans would be fighting alongside total strangers and battle-untested ones at that. He would simply have to keep doing his job.
But can I actually keep doing my job? Batory pondered this question as he marched with the rest of the troops back to the forward camp. I've already started to question shooting Imperials after the fact, armed or not. How long will it be before I physically hesitate?
The Crow recalled the Guardsman's expression of terror just before he was shot point blank; Batory hated to admit it, but Raymond had brought up a very good point and this was wearing down his prior conviction. The inner voice urged him to kill the Guardsman, and the way the Guardsman raised his gun should have been proof enough that he was a credible threat to be terminated. But the Imperial's face suggested that he would indeed have given up, that he would have made no additional moves to injure the warrant officer. All Batory might have had to do to see the impossible - a man of the Imperial Guard surrendering to mere alleged Gallian peasants - was to just wait a few seconds. After all, there were no other Imperials nearby at that time to endanger him.
Batory looked around him. The atmosphere was markedly different in a way that even someone as socially incompetent as he was could feel it. His own platoon seemed to be scared of him. The march was somewhat raucous, with the Militiamen chitchatting and laughing amongst themselves to celebrate a raid well conducted - but no one made any move to poke and prod him as they usually did in previous marches, even on the march into the forest a mere few hours ago. Even Milton had seemed to want to avoid delving too deep into the topic of him shooting the Guardsman while inspecting the tracks of the unidentified Imperial tank.
The warrant officer blinked, and shoved aside the feeling that somehow, he had done something wrong. He could not, however, shake off the other feeling - a sentiment of dread that he was going to have to do this again and again in the near future, and that eventually he would lose.
I am Dmovski Batory, he told himself. I am a warrant officer of the Kokurian Institute of Security and Homeland Integrity.
I am here to serve the Two Houses. I still have a job to do.
... I just hope I don't lose too much of what I am before this is over.
/
(1) The Viszevaric language had heavily influenced Kokurian and Yamataian to the point where the Viszevaric word for bread (kenjer) was exported to both Kokurian (kenyaereu) and Yamataian (kenieru).