Chapter Five: Crossing

16, May, 2019

Schofield Plateau

17:45

For a continent once more at war, the plateau was almost picturesque. To anyone else, the rolling farm fields and rows of hedges would be a dream getaway. For Captain Holland, all he saw were potential battle positions and kill zones. Just another scrap of land for his boys to die over. Hours earlier he had watched from his position atop the plateau as the last of his tanks lumbered across the Yinshi river. Many in the company thought that from there they would be cycled to the rear for a hard-earned refit. Osean theater command thought otherwise.

Upon crossing the bridge Holland would learn that his company would fall back in with their parent battalion, 2-1 Cav. During the start of hostilities almost two days prior, Osean command had deemed the Brigades position near Los Canos unmaintainable. As such the battalion and brigade as a whole avoided much of the heavy fighting as they withdrew back to Schofield.

Now dug into a hull-down position atop the ridge, Holland clicked his pen as he decided on where to plot his next fire plan.

"Reynolds, can I get a laze to the farmhouse?"

Sergeant Christopher Reynolds looked up from the GPSE. "You talkin' 'bout the one on the far side of the river?"

"That's the one."

"Roger that," Reynolds replied in the sing-song accent of a southern Osean. "Got it 'bout twenty-eight hund'er."

Holland jotted down the range on his map board. "Alright."

Reynolds pushed himself out of the TC hatch and sat on the edge of the hatch. The gunner put on his boonie cover and surveyed the terrain. "Don't know 'bout you Sir, but if I was the other guy I wouldn't be trynna cross any bridges."

Holland rolled his eyes. "Well no shit Reynolds, engineers wired these bridges with enough explosives to blow them twice."

"My point exactly."

Holland reached over and slapped his gunner on the back of the head eliciting a chuckle from their loader.

Reynolds was about to retort when he heard the rumble of a diesel engine. "Looks like you have a visitor, Sir."

Rolling over the rough terrain was a three-tone CARC humvee, on the bumper in white was the designation HQ-3. The battalion operations officer had arrived. The humvee came to a stop fifty meters from the 6-0 tank and the passenger door swung open. Major Phong stepped out of the vehicle weighed down by his plate carrier and fighting load. A gold oak leaf rank had been sewn to the front of his helmet cover.

Phong, an artilleryman by profession, had been the battalion S-3 for little under a year before the start of hostilities. The Major made his way over to the tank with an M4 slung across his chest.

"Good to have you back with us, Holland."

Holland nodded in agreement. "Good to be back Sir."

With little time for pleasantries, Phong cut straight to the point. "Give it to me straight Captain, what's the situation?"

"Second Platoon is tied in on the left with Charlie Company at the vineyard, they have line of sight on the Rail bridge," Holland paused and pointed towards the skeletal steel bridge in the distance, pen still in hand. "And the Highway bridge. First Platoon set in the defense vicinity of the old farmhouse, still waiting on their sector sketches to come in but they should be able to cover most of the minor bridges."

Major Phong nodded in affirmation as he jotted down the platoons' positions on his map board. "And that leaves your Third Platoon."

"Yes Sir, Keen is on our far left limit, he's trying to tie in with mechanized infantry from 2-7 Cav. There are some hedgerows over there that obscure him from enemy observation from but-"

Phong cut the Captain off as he found Third Platoon's position on the map. "There is a low water crossing." The Major looked up and saw the grim expression on Holland's face.

"It hasn't rained in Schofield for a month; Keen walked that part of the river himself. It's shallow enough for armored vehicles to ford with a snorkel kit, and if they breach that section of the line you can bet your ass they'll have assault bridges in place within the hour."

Phong now shared the Captain's expression. "Any sign of activity in that area?"

"No visual contact as of recent, our LP OP has reported the sound of engines coming from the other side, however."

Phong tapped a pen against his map board as he formulated a plan. "This isn't good, tell Keen that it is imperative he links in with 2-7. We can't afford to have a gap in the line, especially with that crossing."

"It will be done, Sir."

"Hold at any cost Captain, in the meantime, I'll try to make sure your boys have priority fires."

Holland watched as the Major wadded through the mud and back to his truck before returning to his map board. He had drawn a large red circle around the crossing, fitting for what could be considered a gaping wound in the Osean line. He tossed his map against the CROWS and leaned against the commander's hatch. As he looked out across the vast farmland he couldn't help but think that it was good ground, damn good ground to fight on. If only it wasn't for that fucking crossing.

The Crossing

18:26

"One, maybe two? Wheeled from the sound of it, BTRs? Could be BRDMs? God, I hope they haven't seen me."

Shaw's mind raced as he lay in the muddy dugout that made up his makeshift listing post. He heard his heart beating amongst a cacophony of other sounds. The babbling of the river, the croaking of frogs, and the insistent buzzing of mosquitoes were threatened to be drowned out by the pounding of blood in his ears. The only time the pounding would leave was when the tell-tale sound of a diesel engine approached. And every time Shaw would nestle himself deeper under the hedge.

He hated being exposed like this, out in the open with nothing but a flak vest and a rifle, pushing himself deeper into the damp earth every time a vehicle came by. It had only been a few hours, but Shaw already longed for the relative safety of the tank. This was an infantryman's work, not the job of a tanker. Shaw rolled on his back and shouldered his rifle as he heard someone approaching from behind. He peered through the red-dot optic and rendered his challenge in a hushed voice.

"Halt, who goes there?"

The footsteps stopped and a voice replied. "It's McGuire."

Shaw breathed a sigh of relief as the Gunner of the 4 Tank crawled into the listening post with him. Sergeant Chance McGuire unslung his carbine and posted up next to his fellow gunner.

"Anything so far?"

Shaw handed McGuire the makeshift log book, a college-ruled notebook that had made its way around the platoon for several weeks. "Wheeled vics have become more frequent, I think they're just trying to prob us right now."

"Think they're going to cross here?" McGuire asked, closing the notebook and bringing up his binoculars.

"For sure, no other reason for them to be recconing this area so heavily." Shaw rolled back over on his stomach and shouldered his carbine as another wheeled vehicle rolled up. This time the vehicle, a BRDM, stopped several hundred meters away from the riverbank and idled. Even from the distance, he was at, Shaw could see a hatch open and a lone figure hop out of the vehicle. The lone Erusean soldier kept his weapon at a low ready as he swiftly made his way towards the river. Shaw once more felt his heart begin to beat in his chest as he pressed his cheek against the cold ridged stock of his carbine.

He held his breath as a sharp mechanical click sounded in the listening post. Drawing a bead on the scout, Shaw brought the red dot onto the scout's chest as he knelt by the bank watching a leaf flow downstream. The scout jotted something down in a notebook before snatching his rifle and running back to his vehicle. Shaw gasped as he flipped the selector switch and rolled onto his back.

"Fuck man, why'd third always on the shit end of the line!"

McGuire shook his head in response as he nestled back into the dugout.

"The hell do you think he was doing anyway?"

This time his fellow gunner had an answer to his question. "He was checking how fast the current was, means they do plan to cross here."

"Wonderful, Yanovich is going to be ecstatic." Shaw's sarcastic remark only warranted an empathic look from McGuire. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just." McGuire cut himself off mid-sentence. "Nevermind, it's nothing."

Shaw's eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

McGuire closed his eyes and sighed. "Last I talked to Yano it was at the log point, he was fucking out of it Shaw. I'd never seen him so, so detached. Like he wasn't even there!"

Shaw's heart sank, he had seen it too. The once spry and cheerful loader wasn't himself. "Losing Barnet hit him hard, even back in the day those two were always close."

"I'm worried about him, he's not helping himself by keeping that shit pent up."

"He'll be fine once we get out of this mess, Yano is just putting the crew and the mission first."

"Yeah? And what if he lets that shit boil over huh?" McGuire raised his voice. "He gets so caught up that he puts you all at risk!?" Shaw paused, there was genuine concern in his friend's eyes and along with it, grief.

"I, I'll try talkin' to him again." Was all Shaw could muster to say.

The two shared a moment of silence in that muddy dugout as the sun began to set over the Usean continent. Shaw tightened his blouse as the damp air swiftly drained the heat from his body. Moments later McGuire began to speak up.

"There a radio in here?"

"Yeah." Shaw managed between a yawn.

"Good, you can head back to the line man. I'll take it from here."

Shaw cocked an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Yeah man, go be with your crew."

Shaw didn't need to be told twice as he crawled his way out from under the hedge and back into the open farmland. With the light beginning to wane and the hedgerow offering concealment, the gunner didn't bother to keep a low profile as he jogged his way back to the tanks. It was a shame, normally on nights like this Shaw would have opted to walk and enjoy the twilight hours and the scenery that came with it. If he didn't know any better he would have thought that he, that the continent wasn't at war. The sad reality of fact was that they were, that he and his brothers would soon be in for another fight of their lives. And it was up to him to make sure they got through this mess, one way or another he would get his crew out alive.

The Crossing Overwatch

19:58

Yanovich slammed the armored skirt of the Abrams close with no small amount of effort. With track tension complete, Yano produced his lucky strikes and pursed one between his lips. With a clack of his lighter a small ember began to burn, he inhaled enjoying the bold taste of tobacco. He gazed upon the Abrams, the poor girl was battered by the day's action. The Eruseans had thrown a lot at her and her crew in the past two days. But she held, unrelenting, the old girl wasn't going to let Yanovich down, nor his crew. Even after being kissed by an Erusean high explosive round. The loader patted the armored skirts of the Bravo 3-1.

"Just a little longer girl," Yanovich muttered before taking another drag of his cigarette. He was deep in thought when he heard someone call his name.

"Yanovich, we need to talk."

The loader bowed his head and smirked before turning to face Shaw. "Whatcha' need, boss?" Yanovich rested a foot against the track and crossed his arms.

"It's about Barnet, I know he-"

"Let me stop you right there," Yanovich interrupted, annoyance edging in his voice. "I don't need a fucking value of life speech, especially coming from you!"

"And what the fuck is that suppose to mean?"

Yanovich clenched his fist into a ball. "You know, you of all people should be just as fucking worked up as I. But no, Elijah Shaw recedes into his shell, not even showing a god damn hint of emotion when his good buddy bought it! It's all don't worry boys we'll make it, we're not going to end up like poor Barney are we?!" The loader huffed and took another hit of his smoldering cigarette. "But what did I expect, it's always mission first you! You didn't even bat an eye when Barnet got cut down like a dog!"

"You're way out of line Pete."

The loader scoffed and flicked his cigarette as Shaw. "Oh is that so Sergeant, maybe you should put me in my place? You know it's a little late to be throwing your rank around, but what's to expect from a gutless bastard like you!"

"Knock it off, both of you!" Keen called leaning over the side of the turret. "Focus on fighting the enemy, not each other!"

"Fighting the ene-, Sir I've been a hundred percent in this fight since day zero." Yanovich retorted. "All I want is a little bit of payback for Barnet."

"And you think I haven't been committed?!" Shaw yelled, taking a step forward. "Every waking moment of this shit fest of a war I've been in this fight! I want revenge too, but right now I'm trying to keep you, and Ford, and the Lieutenant from being sent home in a FUCKING body bag!"

"Shut the fuck up Shaw! I don't give a rats-"

Yanovich recoiled as a stinging blow landed on his jaw, he staggered back against the tank clutching his face. He shook his head as the taste of iron filled his mouth, pulling his hand away he saw crimson blood on his fingers. He sniffed and looked around.

"Alright, alright I see how it is." Like lighting, Yanovich jabbed his gunner in the nose causing Shaw to stagger off balance as blood began to drip from his nose.

Shaw didn't give Yanovich another chance to strike as he lunged at the loader. Shaw caught Yanovich in a grapple and pinned him to the side of the tank. The loader's head slammed against the turret as Shaw began to deliver sharp punches to his kidneys. Wincing and fighting through the continuance pain retching through his body, Yanovich drove his elbow hard into Shaw's neck. Taking advantage of the gunner's losing hold, he jammed his knee into Shaw's groin and pushed the gunner off of him.

Yanovich spat blood onto the golden grass he stood on. Taking advantage of a staggered Shaw, he tackled him and brought the gunner to the ground. Now it was his turn to deliver blow after blow, striking his gunner again and again as blood began to pool in his mouth. He was about to deliver another blow when the clank of a hatch being open sounded, he heard boots hit the dirt before he felt himself being lifted off of Shaw and being thrown against the tank.

Before him, Ford stood with a crescent wrench in hand and the look of a possessed man on his face. "What the fuck do you think you're doing huh!?"

Shaw stood back up ready to go another round with Yanovich but was halted when his driver pointed the wrench at him. "I don't plan to die because my loader and gunner are having a domestic dispute, get your heads out of your ass before I beat the dog shit out of both of you." The Private spat before making his way back to the front of the tank. "We're supposed to be a crew, fucking act like it!"

Yanovich plopped down beside the tank and reached for his pack of cigarettes. Pulling them from his grass-stained blouse he looked at the crushed pack before tossing it away. He rested his head against his knees, trying to drown out the throbbing pain in his head. He heard Shaw sit down beside him and felt him tap his shoulder several times. The loader looked over at the gunner, his face and collar dyed red, offering a menthol to him. Yanovich hesitated before taking one and lighting it, he inhaled letting the menthol cool his throat and lungs.

Shaw lit a cigarette of his own before speaking in a soft tone. "Barnet was my brother too Pete, I want revenge as much as you." The gunner paused before wiping blood from his nose and taking a drag. "I hate those Erusean bastards, they took Barney from us, and every inch of ground they take from us hurts. Makes me feel like he died for nothing." Shaw stood up and rested his hand on Yanovich's shoulder. "But mark my words, we'll lay waste to every Erusean fuck that stands in our way! When we get to Farbanti I'll put a bullet in that blonde bitch's head myself. The Erusean army, the Princess, all of them will fucking pay. But I need you with me, Pete, I need you and the crew to live, y'all are instruments of my revenge."

Shaw took his hand off Yanovich's shoulder and began to walk through the dry grass. "I just need you to stay alive, that's all I ask man."

17, May 2019

Bravo Company Command Post

09:05

The sun rose over the Usean continent bringing with it the sweltering heat that had plagued the company for months and ushering in the third day of the war. Gaggled around a tan painted M113, the officers and senior NCOs prepared for the morning operations meeting. For most of them, this was the first time seeing each other in days. Though never too far from each other's supporting fire, the situations that governed them always made them feel all too distant from one another.

Keen glanced over his map graphics, what may seem like a random array of lines and arrows was actually a well-crafted defensive line formed by several interlinked battalions. It represented the Osean's last desperate line of defense. Keen gave a warry chuckle that elicited a look from First Platoon's Lieutenant, First Lieutenant Edward Mitchell. The Black officer eyed his peer with a concerned glance.

"What so funny."

"Whole lot riding on just a thin blue line."

Mitchell sighed looking at his own map. "No pressure huh?"

Keen scoffed. "You can say that again."

"Alright, gents listen up!" Holland announced as he approached the company leadership. Dark bags under his eyes and a thermos of gritty coffee indicated another night of limited sleep for the Captain. "I'll give it to you straight, at the OPORD this morning I learned that the homeland was hit several days ago. Bastards snuck in on cargo ships and sunk most of our carriers."

Holland let the news sink in, taking in the mood of his officers and NCOs. "As for the current situation I've got a bit of good news, Seventh Infantry just landed in Zapland and should be moving online within a few days and the rest of Two CAV isn't far behind."

The tense atmosphere that hung over the company leadership seemed to diminish, even if just slightly as pats on the back and the occasional "We got them now" were shared. A deployment of the Seventh and the Second was not lost on them. The two divisions, one of them they were subordinate to, formed the backbone of the Osean First Corps. Affectionately referred to as Osea's Armored Hammer, or Osea's Corps, 1st Corps was the nation's premier rapid deployment force. The Corps was formed at the height of the Cold War and was designed to meet and destroy Yuktobanian aggression anytime, anywhere. With the Corps being mobilized, and its first two divisions landing in the days to follow, it became apparent to the company that the Eruseans days were numbered.

Keen saw that even the beaten down Captain had managed to crack a smile, abate weak, but nonetheless his mood had changed. "Alright gents, settle down and bring it in," Holland announced, seeing he had his subordinate's attention he began to flip through his notebook. "Now I can't stress the importance of what's been handed to us. What happens in the following days will determine whether or not our brothers in the Second will chase the Eruseans back to Farbanti, or face an emboldened force high on our defeat."

The platoon leader caught his Captain's eyes as he surveyed his subordinates, there could be no mistakes in the coming operation. "We all know the situation, on the other side of the Yinshi river an Erusean Corps is intent on crossing and destroying us in detail." Holland started pointing off towards the river and the unseen enemy beyond. "Our mission; Bravo Company 2-1 Cav, defends in vicinity of Yinshi river, in order to halt the advance of Erusean 25th Armor, until such time enemy is destroyed in sector, and conduct battle handoff with follow on units."

Keen quickly scribbled down the order in his notebook as Holland repeated the mission statement. As soon as the First Lieutenant had finished the Captain had already moved on with the order. "Endstate: Bravo Company 2-1 Cav destroys enemy in detail, halts advance of enemy armor, and facilitates freedom of maneuver for follow on units."

Just as Holland had finished reading the desired outcome of the mission, four F-16s bearing the roundel of the Osean Airforce screamed overhead and off towards Erusean lines. Keen watched as the Osean F-16s flew to conduct the first offensive action of the war.