Myne...
The Devil Dogs let loose their arsenal as a wave of Imperial Light Tanks surged through the burning forestry of the island. Imperial Artillery from the Island Fort was taking a lot of pot shots at them, but, luckily, the P47s were coming back around. Their guns rattled from the sky and three Artillery Towers had been littered with AP rounds, gun crews dead on the floor.
The supporting Imperial Infantry that moved in unison with the tanks found itself facing American .30 Cals and concentrated rifle fire. 1911s fired, grenades flew and bayonets struck steel plate and flesh. The thunder of an M1897 Shotgun sent an Imp falling to the floor, while the butt of an M1 Garand cracked the skull of an officer, denting his helmet. Combat was brutal, up-close and murderous.
An AMTANK's gun let out an echoing roar and an Imperial Pillbox detonated. A Springfield Sniper cracked the air and the bullet punched through an Imperial Soldier's helmet. A Thompson let loose a stream of bullets into the trenches of the First Line. The Fort wasn't poorly defended. Quite the opposite, actually. It seemed the entire Imperial Command was focused in the fort, hence having better defenses.
Elements of the 6th had split from the main unit to secure a few surrounding fishing villages. It appeared the Imperials had swiftly backed out of the area when they realized the Yanks would be coming. There was also one large port town that the US wanted to secure... The 6th's Fifth, thirteenth and Twenty-Third platoons had been deployed to secure the area...
Captain Jack Ross was among those going in to secure the Port, allow for Shermans and siege vehicles to join them. Toting two M1911s and with a shotgun strapped to his back, the man lead the first assault into town. He didn't know the name of the place, but some of the Marines had gotten several nicknames for it. It was more of an industrial and storage area with a few living arrangements in the forms of blocks around the central fishery, warehouses and grain and fuel silos.
"Keep moving, boys!" Jack urged his men on, firing his twin Colts out of cover, advancing slowly with them. An M1 Garand's clip had been emptied, but the Marine was quick to replace it. Their targets were the main dock and Fuel Silos. And they were in sight...
Imperial Gatling Guns raked the concrete and the walls of the warehouses, yet the bullets didn't punch through. The Marines had gotten a nice foothold in one of the first warehouses. The windows of the Silos were occupied by Snipers, that Jack's own were trying to take out. The man drew his shotgun, kicked in the door to a worker's house and fired the first shot square into the chest of an Imp Conscript.
Following him, two Marine Sergeants with Thompsons began sweeping the entire place.
The Captain's shotgun cracked the air again and an Imperial Conscript flew out of the back door. He turned about, drew the Bayonet, stabbed another Imp coming out of a room on the left toward him and slid the bayonet onto the shotgun, before firing again. Appearing out of the other side of the house, the Marine Captain scanned the surrounding area, before waving forward a Radioman.
Taking the phone, the Captain took a knee and said "Able, this is Kilo! We're driving a wedge into the town and aiming for the Docks! Whenever you feel ready to send those Gallian Transports with tanks, we'd appreciate it!"
"We're working on it. Stand by." The answer came.
"Fucking..." Ross swore, before ducking as an Imp Gatling raked their position. A friendly Rifleman fell with about sixteen bullet holes in his torso. Another stood up and managed to empty his Garand clip before he was gunned down by a pair of Imps. He fell to the ground at the same time as the sheet metal clip. The team's Sniper poked his rifle out and snapped off a shot. The bullet pinged off what looked like a thick plate of steel.
"He has a shield!" The Sniper cried out, re-chambering his weapon.
"Bazookas! Do we have any!?" Jack looked back, to see two men bringing the tube up. He pointed at the enemy position and cried "SHOVE A TWO INCH ROCKET UP HIS FUCKING BARREL!"
The roar of the launcher echoed as the round slammed, warhead first, into the mantle of the gun and then, into the trooper himself, vaporizing the poor son of a bitch in the blast. Marine Infantry continued their advance forward, through and around the buildings, to stay covered from the enemy's own guns. Shotguns barked, rifles cracked and bayonets slashed as another platoon of conscripts charged forth out of a building.
P-47 engines droned above, followed by the chit-chatter of the 50cals on the wings blasting apart a rooftop position used by snipers. Ross smirked, then murmured to himself "Took them long enough to turn about." before he spotted a pair of heavy-duty transport boats under escort by the Coast Guard's PT boats. 40mm Bofors off the front of one of the PT Boats tore a pretty sizable chunk out of the first Imp it hit, followed by drilling holes into sheet metal the size of a man's head.
The first Transport hit the shores and dropped its ramp near the forward section of the port. Two Sherman Jumbos and one Easy Eight, all belonging to the 1st Armored, rolled onto the pier, followed by five platoons worth of Army Infantry, some of which were manning the top-mounted Fifties and firing on the Imp Conscripts. Jack waved at the tank crews, one of which waved back. The tanks turned, facing the enemy's forces and the first short 76 of the battle fired HE.
An Imp position was shattered as the second Transport landed on another section of the pier. An M4 with a 105 howitzer rolled out first, turning its massive cannon to meet them. Coax and top-mounted machine guns fired as the vic rolled off, to let the others move in as well. This vehicle was loaded with about five Half-Tracks, M3, carrying troops on their backs from the 90th ID, which had been reorganized as a Mechanized unit and given to Patton's Third Army.
The troopers from the Half-Tracks jumped over the sides of their vehicles, using them as cover from enemy MG fire while the 50s on top turned to respond. Jack nodded, determined, then showed his men to follow him. He charged toward the Pier, followed by the rest of his unit and the tanks and other Army units. The armored corps began a steady advance through the gunfire, with the Jumbos acting as mobile cover for the infantry and the 105 Sherman blasting away at any fortification it caught wind of.
This was gonna be a shitstorm of epic proportions. It already was... To be fair, Marines rolled with shitstorms long before this battle was even set to take place. They'd roll with it now, too. Ain't no Imp bastard that was gonna be walking off this island alive. Not for blocking the way for a US Port to come into being, a naval force to operate against the Imps that wouldn't be stuck in port...
Back at Fort Amaranthine
Matt Siegfried sat alone, watching the US Army's ever-expanding forces pour into the Gallian Fort.
The rest of the US Army Armored Corps was already mobilizing to the northern front of Gallia, to 'become the brick wall the Imps would break against' as Patton put it. He had departed with the heavily-mechanized and reorganized Third Army's officer cadre ahead of the main wave of tanks and troops, while the main body of the Army now poured on through the gate. This provided the US Scientists enough data, one would hope, to be able to 'replicate' the Gate's effects at some point, if not expand them. Halftracks and Jeeps formed up in the courtyard of the Fort, meanwhile, alongside armored scout cars and more aircraft.
Another US general stepped off one of the jeeps, which bore a three-star placard on its front. He stepped off the vehicle, arranging his glasses on the bridge of his nose and reading out a report from one of his aides-de-camp. He looked forward, to Matt, then stepped up to him and asked "'Scuse me, young man. Do you happen to know where I can find the commander of the 3rd Militia Regiment?"
"Sir." Matt saluted, then asked, "You're looking for Captain Varrot?"
"Yeah. That's her name." The man nodded. He squinted at the tags around Matt's neck, then he smiled and said "Ah, you're General Siegfried's son?"
"Yessir. Matthew Siegfried, Sergeant for the 7th Platoon, 3rd Regiment." The noble's son responded. The man extended a hand to the boy, which he gripped and shook firmly.
The man nodded, "I'm Omar Bradley, General for the US 84th. A pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Siegfried."
"Pleasure's all mine, sir." Matt nodded back, "Want me to take you to the Captain?"
"If you don't mind, son." Omar answered. Matt showed the man to follow and they marched into the command center. US NCOs saluted Omar and the Sergeant as they passed, smiles on their faces. The two took a turn and entered Captain Varrot's office just as she was finishing a debriefing for Hiller and Michael. The trio inside the office paused and all turned to salute the man.
"General, sir." Captain Varrot nodded to Omar, "General Patton told me you'd be joining the Expeditionary Force with your division. A pleasure to meet you." and he saluted her back. The two approached and shook hands, with Omar looking over at Hiller and Mike, offering them a smile of reassurance. The two boys nodded back, with Hiller looking mean and ready to kill imps, while Mike seemed his usual calm self.
"Happy to hear George gave my intro before I got here." Omar quipped, chuckling, "And a pleasure to meet you as well, captain Varrot. Not gonna lie to you, when I was told we were travelling dimensions to an alternate Europe, I almost didn't believe the OSS spooks who briefed me. Situation back home's very odd for them, since the whole 'Gate' thing was leaked to the public. Most of the world knows about our exploits here."
"It would be kind of hard to miss an entire army and three of your most famed generals going missing..." Varrot quipped, then added "Four, if we count you now, general."
The man chuckled, "That it would be, captain. That, it would be. I understand that MacAuliffe and Puller are already prepping to assist in the operation to clear out the massive forest just east of us of Imp supply camps."
"Yes. It should destabilize the Central and Southern Fronts, according to our analysts." The Captain explained, "I presume your Division's joining us?"
"According to my orders, I'll be joining you with the 84th Mechanized. We'll have limited armor support from a pair of Shermans again, so that should provide some good Cover, if we meet any Imp troops along the way. Some of the 101st Airborne's boys have also secured a crossroad town just before we got to Amaranthine the first time, so we'll be travelling through it." The General noted.
"There will be a few more villages along the way to the enemy base, General." The Captain explained, "We may have to fight our way through them."
Omar smirked, "My boys have been itching for a fight, so, that's no problem." then he looked to Matt and said "Thank you, Sergeant. You can go back to your squad."
"Sir. Ma'am." Matt saluted, then swiveled about and left through the door. Marching out toward the barracks, Matt wondered just how far the US was gonna go in helping them deal with their Imperial problem if they were deploying three generals and multiple Army Groups toward them. Rumor mill had it the US was also dealing with a new situation, a 'Cold War' of sorts, brewing due to the animosity between West and East.
He didn't know enough about their internal politics to make any comments in regards to the matter. All he cared about right now was getting underway with the squad and hopefully being productive in kicking the Imps out of Kloden. It wasn't gonna be a walk in the park, that was for sure, but he was ready to shoulder responsibility of aiding Welkin and keeping the worse-off elements of the gang in check.
He walked inside the barracks, only to find Mike sat alone at his bunk, loading ammunition into his Thompson's magazines. These fellows switched their weapons enough to worry pretty much anyone sane enough to even question it, but Mike seemed to have finally settled into the role of carrying what they nicknamed the 'Tommy Gun'. Looking up, Mike greeted the Sergeant with a salute which he returned.
"Good to see you, Sergeant Siegfried," Mike greeted him vocally, finally.
"Likewise, Mike. Is everything in order? Any more issues from Rosie or Largo?" He inquired. The boy shook his head, thumbing point-Fort-Five ACP into the double-stack stick magazine of the SMG calmly. Matt hummed, then turned and asked, "Where's Hiller? I don't see him around..." as he scanned the room for the other Yankee of the team. Mike shrugged.
"Off getting us food for the road," He then replied, "At least the last I saw of him."
"Army rations?" Matt quipped, grinning.
"Best we have," Mike replied with a nod, then stood up and slotted the last magazine into one of the pouches, "Need me for anything?"
"Not really, just came by to rally up the squad in preparation to depart for Kloden," The boy replied, then looked to the firearm in the Sergeant's hand and asked, "Does that thing kick a lot when you use it? I've heard of Forty-Five being used as a pistol-caliber ammunition type, but I haven't really seen it around. Vinland's still too busy with itself to send us supplies, so..."
"Its kick could be much, much worse," Mike replied as he turned to walk with Matt. "It is a very pleasant submachine gun to shoot, though it has a nasty reputation in the West due to... Well, its original nickname, the Chicago Typewriter," He then began explaining, "It was used by the gangsters in the 1920s alongside various other weapons like it. And the nickname comes from the weapon's steady rate of fire."
"Interesting," Matt hummed.
Farther in the back, Welkin, Alicia and Ragna watched them interact. Ragna crossed his arms and smirked, then said, "I guess he sees it, too..." before turning to the two confused leading officers of the team and adding, "Mike has a certain air about him. Like he's royalty or something, I don't know... He's far too calm for a normal person, honestly. Far, far too calm."
"You think he could be royalty?" Inquired Alicia, chuckling. Ragna shrugged and nodded.
"Well, Ragna'd know," Welkin quipped, "He's friends with Matt, after all."
"That's fair..." Alicia replied calmly, then hummed and asked, "But why hide with the Americans, then?" and that, indeed, was a good question to ask. If true, Ragna's suppositions brought up several issues in regards to Michael's presence here. Alas, Alicia figured, "I mean, if it's likely he's royalty, then what nation and... Why isn't he there? Is there some issue?"
"Might be from an Eastern European country of theirs," Welkin shrugged, "If I understood general MacAuliffe correctly, they're facing another War. East versus West, Democracy versus Communism, whatever that last one is," and he looked at the two. Mike nodded approvingly, lifting the assault weapon, but keeping its muzzle pointed at the floor and seemingly explaining to Matt its mechanisms.
"We could ask," Alicia suggested, slightly annoyed.
"Might be too personal..." Replied Welkin in a murmur. Indeed, asking Michael about his personal life would be poking one's nose where it did not belong, something he could potentially take an issue with and something that may cause a rift between them and their two Americans. Hiller seemed fairly protective of Mike's well-being back during Vasel and the early days.
Alas, it didn't matter. Welkin said, "Speculation isn't going to help anyone... We should be thankful they're here to help us fight, after all," and that got a few nods of agreement from the other two beside him. No point to bother the boy or speculate. There was still a war to fight and they needed to prepare to move out at a moment's notice. Matt himself was about to speak to Welkin about that, it seemed.
Above, US Aircraft began flying their combat sorties. P51s and P47s flew together, their silver hulls glimmering in Gallia's sunlight as their engines roared, propellers chopping through the air. At the mustering area, US Army tanks lay in wait and infantry mounted up into their Halftracks, preparing for the operation to eliminate the Imperial bases within the confines of the expansive Kloden wildwoods.
Rosie boarded one of the Gallian halftracks, SMG in hand, as the others followed in. Behind them, the Edeleweiss rolled up with its main cannon pointed at the sky instead of at its allies. The rest of the squad poured into the transports, with the team's sniper, who'd made a name for herself, joining her vehicle alongside Largo, Sergeant Melchiott and a few other faces familiar to her.
Off to war, yet again...