Chapter 1: A New Front
I remember well the home back in my time.
The smell of the air just hit different then compared to now. Back then, it was.., stale with hot and dry weather courtesy of a thinning ozone. The days where people could enjoy wearing cotton and layers of clothing were undoubtedly over. The air back then, would've made anyone I knew now cough and be at a discomfort especially during the days when the haze was thick.
Also, back then, there was easy access to information with the normalized use of advanced electronics and global communications capable of storing vast amounts of data and calculations that would drive any genius now into a seizure.
Back then, I had the world at the tip of my fingers and I didn't even realize it. No, it was better to say that I didn't have need of it. It just never occurred to me.
Until that day; that fateful day when I parted ways with the much more lavish life I lived. But that is a story to be told later when I get better in writing out my thoughts.
For my name, let's go with Zeke for now. It's the name I gave to the guys knowing they couldn't word my old one for jack. If you wonder why that's the case, then I don't think you've ever really dealt with a bunch of US army men from the 1940's. As to how I know this, well, to put it simply, I somehow wound up with around 700 of them, give or take. How, you may ask? Well, someone decided that it would be neat to include them from one of my all time favourite RTS. The one and only, Company of Heroes. Or rather, is it Regiment of Heroes, now?
So, anyways, I go out one hot afternoon on a grocery run, and next thing you know the malignant menace that is an Unnamed Truck decides that I'm next on the hit-list. My bike was hit. I went under the wheels, and amazingly enough my head survived long enough to feel the large vehicle stop.
Of course, the pain was most definitely indescribable, but when I said 'survive' I didn't necessarily mean fully intact. For your information, I say this because I'm 'dead' certain that my right eye had decided it needed a better view of the road and rightfully rolled away from its place in my socket.
Gruesome death aside, I remembered coming to terms pretty fast with my death after that. There was a vague moment when I, weirdly enough, decided that I could sleep the pain away and close my other eye as a result of the attempt. As the darkness took me, I'm came to a realisation of how much of an idiot I am when it took me a good ten minutes at least to realize that there most definitely shouldn't be darkness especially with my right eye the way it was.
It was another twenty maybe before I came to a conclusion as to what was happening. Who would've thought that watching all those Japanese cartoons and reading online manga would pay off!
So, with that settled, where does that leave me…, oh yes! The story proper!
Settle down then, none existent audience! And prepare to read the greatest adventure told by a horrible writer with very little sense for preserving his grammar, or the sanity of the readers for that matter.
- First Memoir from the Journal of Commander Zeke. De facto military leader of the Allies and later Commandant of the Gallia New Model Army.
When I was finally able to see once more, it was to the bright sun of a pleasant afternoon. I could almost here the audible chirp of the birds through the ringing in my ears. At the same time, I felt certain that something was approaching me.
My intuition was true when I saw two dark figures above me. Their forms were definitely large, and covered the blue sky like two black strokes. Their movement, in his hazy vision, were very animated as if this was all part of some rehearsed play but at the same time it looked genuine and organic.
"…. think this is all a fever dream or something?"
"After all we've been through, Conti? Not a chance in hell. Earnestly, I'm not even exactly sure what to believe in anymore."
"Look, I'll leave this here and now for the record, but you and I apparently have got the same gear apparently spinning in our heads, John. Case in point, we're all tied to this kid here, so what do you think happens if he's dead? We all return to nothing? If so, then what was the point of us being here, then?"
"Honestly, I don't even want to know. Also, that has to be the longest I've ever heard you talk."
…What? Just what the heck are these two guys talking about? None of it makes sense. What's even my relation to them? Why are they talking about me as if it was THEIR lives that depended on me and not the other way around? Why are they wearing Ranger uniforms?
Wait, correction. Those aren't Ranger uniforms. I mean, they're close but they didn't give the impression of that, rather, their voices sound far too distinct. I was certain I'd heard these voices in the past and I was certain something in me told me I did indeed recognize them.
…. Hold on. Rangers? As in, the US army variant? How did I know this? Just what sort of twisted outlook could I have appraised to make me even remotely think I knew just whom stood in front of me.
I felt a headache brewing in my mind, overwhelmed by the dozens of thoughts running around my head. It was to my benefit when I felt something nudging my chest and I drew upon my short focus to stare eye to eye with one of the men.
He had brown eyes, and a grizzled look. His facial expression told one of hardship and weariness born from the former being relived countless times. It took me no sooner to realize that his foot was much closer to my chest than anyone would be comfortable with.
"Uhm,"
"Hm,'
Wow. Just wow. That was such a GREAT beginning to a long and everlasting friendship! How could I ever have imagined things would turn out this way? What's next in store? A hand in marriage from a vixen five years my senior.
Hah!
"All right loverboys, put some space in-between you too. Seriously Conti, never would have thought that you of all people swing THAT way."
A sickening feeling rose up in my chest and I turned to the one responsible for this. The man in question had a smug look that was in no means condescending. If anything, he looked to be almost the direct opposite of that. He carried with him an aura of leadership and security. As if, one could easily come to rely on him for support and camaraderie.
I was once more jolted out of my never consistent train thought by the sudden movement of the guy above me. He looked as if he'd been about to kiss a dung by accident. I didn't waste time myself as I move to sit in an upright position with my legs splayed out in front of me. At the very least, the rather uncomfortable atmosphere was successful in keeping me away from my chaotic thoughts for now. With full intention, I decided my next best course of action would be to reintroduce myself to the two men and find out more on what's going on.
As if fate decided that it had enough of its share of amusement, the hand of the other man reached out to pull me up. I acknowledged the gesture, and up close, I could make out the man's blue eyes and apparently his more youthful appearance in contrast to the first. He helped me up, and I almost immediately regretted it seeing as how I was the shortest of the group with the other two being easily a head taller than me. There was also the fact that my features, in comparison to theirs, was much more smooth and had a darker complexion that could be mistaken for any number of different races in the world that had darker complexions as a genetic regularity.
However, that wasn't the problem now. The real question that was slowly becoming more and more corporeal in my head was the fact I RECOGNIZE both the men in front of me yet at the same time I was sure that I had never once met either if them.
Was this what déjà vu felt like? If so, then I seriously need to come up with a list of things that I don't want to deal with in my life. The current situation, took the top ten in terms of nope.
"Hey, kid! Quit spacing out, would ya? If you wanna stand here all day then be my guess, but you could at least give us directions to go first? I don't think I need to tell you just how much of a pain it's going to be waitin' here 'till something happens."
I looked in the direction of the voice -Joe Conti's, I reminded myself- and became absolutely awed at the sight before me.
What I saw looked straight out of one of those art illustrations of the Second World War. In this case, it was the sight of two men in fatigues standing at the flank of a Sherman, and in front of that Sherman was another Sherman, followed by another, and another, until it reached all the way up to the foot of a hill some 300 metres out. On top of that hill, I could see the silhouette of a recon vehicle. The occupants must've noticed me staring at them as the gunner waved back in my direction.
And that wasn't all.
As I began to truly see the world around me, the long line of tanks wasn't just the only thing that stood out. There were men in the overalls of United States Infantrymen scattered all around the fields and surrounding the tanks. To my left, I realized wasn't another clone of the ancient war beast, but an offshoot of it called the M3 Halftrack. Again, there were men wearing those signature beige fatigues that were now more familiar than ever.
I turned once more to look at the two me- correction, officers in front of me. Dawning realisation was seeping into my bones with every minute as I felt my mind freeze within the moment of decisive thinking. When I felt that I couldn't be made to come up with a proper response fast enough, I did the only thing any sane person would probably do when they find themselves suddenly waking up next to a military convoy.
I gave a salute, and introduced myself properly.
Even then, I still somehow screwed it up by mouthing off the word 'Priavet'.
Damn my lack of self-control.
Somewhere not too far away, was the town of Lundel. It was one of the sister settlements to Bruhl, and it was unique in its own way thanks to the extensive farmland surrounding the town. The residents were able to maintain this massive agricultural industry in no small part thanks to the three giant watermills built to make use of the strong currents of the river that went through the town.
Each of the waterwheels were easily 12 meters in diameter and could be seen from kilometres. Their status as the town's tallest builds also lend credence to this.
Lundel was a town known amongst the local as the Timeless Town. It earned its name because since the town's founding some 300 years ago, the town's distinctive culture and traditions have never strayed far from their roots. Even into the rise of the modern age, the town refused extensive modifications to its architecture aside from the utmost necessary to continue meeting export demands.
On most days, Lundel would've been a fine place for those looking for a place to retire from the hustle and bustle of life, or even simply rest before continuing their journey onwards.
But most certainly not today.
For a great fire was ravaging through the town, starting from the outskirts to the north, and heading deeper and deeper inwards, the people flew into a panic as despair echoed and howled along the crackling of flames. They screamed in fear for themselves and their loved ones. Their eyes were filled to the brim with tears caused by stinging sensation and grief over the calamity striking their city. Their hearts and minds reaching out to the idea of safety wherever that may be.
And throughout all the chaos, the banner of the culprits was raised high and proud, literally. Armoured soldiers supported by tanks slowly began making their way down the main streets and towards the town centre. For the most part, they were vigilant, save for the occasional window breaking so that they could light another building ablaze. If they showed any sign of consideration for the lives suffering, they did not show it. Their movements were that of restrained dogs waiting to gnaw and shred the flock before them. Only, they were being held back by the one who metaphorically held their leashes.
That being, the figure who stood from within the commander's hatch of the light tank traversing down the streets. The man was a young officer in his late 20's, clad in a 'modernized' version of a knight's armour just like his men, albeit it was much slimmer so that it wouldn't hinder movement from within the tank. The visor had also been removed entirely for better vision as well.
Currently, he couldn't help but be satisfied with himself. His unit had been sent ahead of most of the elements as a heavy reconnaissance unit meant to skirmish the enemy and find out where the battle lines began. Sadly, the first few encounters he had with the locals had been awfully disappointing. The border guards had hardly put up a fight whereas the few travellers along the way that they had managed to catch didn't even hesitate to spill out any information they knew about the land.
Admittedly, he was put off by the lack of fighting happening, and his men must've shared similar mindsets as well, considering most of them were of pureblood and were shipped straight from the homeland itself.
Still, it would've not done well for him or anyone within his faction if he were to execute wanton slaughter on anything remotely not sharing the same colour scheme as they did. Hence, he even took to personally rewarding those souls that complied and gave good info about the surrounding terrain. With his current compiled reports, he was confident he would definitely satisfy the higher ups once his unit turned about to make their way to the designated rally point.
Speaking of his unit, he noticed that his tank had come to a sudden halt. His eyebrow raised, he turned to look in front of him and found the cause to be a heart-wrenching sight,
It would seem as if some of the townsfolk didn't get the memo fast enough, and now a pretty girl was clutching what looked to be a lifeless boy in her arms. Her body covered in soot and spots of blood from head to toe with her wild akin to a wrathful ghost. She was caressing the body of the boy as if he would suddenly wake up and she could then cling to that one small glimmer of hope. There were other bodies too, most of them most certainly relatives to the girl.
The men around him were somewhat uncertain as to what to do, and glances spread through the men until finally the squad leader looked at him for an answer.
Of course, if it were up to him, the scene didn't matter. They still had half a town to burn.
So, with a nonchalant wave of his hand, he heard the signature click of a rifle at the ready before a loud crack echoed in the street.
At the same time, strangely enough, he felt a sharp pain at the front of his head followed by his head jerking back by some unseen force. The last thing he felt was his body slowly sliding back down into the tank. After that, all was darkness.
Everyone -including the young maiden- stared in surprise as the commander's head violently jerked back, leaving a trail of red mist in its wake. They watched as his form went slack and slid into the tank once more. Even over the fires and engine rumbling, they could hear the sound of alarm coming from within the tank.
A pregnant silence ensued, until one of the Scouts turned his head to face down the street where the shot had come from. Reality had begun to sink in as to what happened to their officer, and was more amazed than anything that none of them had started dropping to the floor like flies. His suspicions were confirmed with what he saw and immediately took a battle-ready stance.
His comrades were quick to follow as they formed a battleline with the light tank behind them shifting its turret to point the barrel at the smoke and soot in front of it. More accurately, the silhouette that was emerging from the black cloud.
The steady grinding of treads on the cobblestone road signified the arrival of another tank. Albeit, this was of a design never before seen by those present. The veteran sergeant amongst the men did a double take at what he saw as it certainly wasn't Gallian, in fact, the design of the tank sported the smoothest surface he'd seen on any tank in his career and he could vouch for that considering he had served on the Federation Front.
The tank that came out of the smoke sported a green paint scheme and even had an emblem in the form of a white star surrounded by a circle of the same colour at its centre. The tank sported a single turret as opposed to theirs which had two.
A smaller barrel could be barely seen on the bow, encased in a ball.
The sergeant's instincts flared, and he immediately ducked just as the two tanks fired their main arsenal. Wether it was poor aim, or an attempt at the gunner's part, the shot from their tank went sailing right into the opposition's turret where it miraculously bounced and harmlessly landed at the side. On the other hand, the now hostile tanks ordinance had found its way inside and straight through their tank. It was only 7 seconds later that the soldiers would realize that their tank had also gone silent for some reason.
Within that same span time, there emerged numerous cracks in the air as men began dropping like sacks on the street. A steady rattle soon followed as sparks lit up the frontal chassis of the dead tank in ugly horizontal lines. All the while, the non-commissioned officer found himself getting up unsteadily; having been too close to the tank as the enemy shell whistled past him and spun him in the air despite his attempt to evade. He never got a chance to fully recover as his body was soon riddled with bullets courtesy of a point-blank burst from a submachine gun.
The remaining men -leaderless, confused and too shocked by the sudden events to apply their training- scattered and tried to run back down the street whence they came. Out of a dozen men and their light tank support, now remained four of which none had experienced actual combat until now.
The soldiers would find short relief as friendly armour turned a corner and rolled down the street; no doubt having heard the brief discharge of two opposing war machines as well the sound of fighting. No sooner did its gun turn to face the enemy, that a tank round penetrate the turret and the tank was visibly rocked back and forth. The infantry squad following the tank, looked in amazement at the surreal phenomenon, but soon paid the price when half their number was gunned down by the same distinctive crack of rifles coming from down the street.
On the other end, meanwhile, the mysterious green tank had begun its advance and surrounding it now were a group of strange soldiers garbed in tan combat fatigues and nothing else of note except having equally green helmets. They carried in their arms rifles and submachine guns, of which shared the same unknown, yet simplistic design. A four-wheeled drive soon sped past them, a machine gun clearly visible on its back with a gunner at the ready.
As the scene unfolded, the young girl could only watch in silence. The shock hadn't faded and if anything, was worming its way deeper into the very soul of the maiden. So much so, when one of the soldiers came and introduced themselves as a medic and tried to get her attention, she hardly elicited any response whatsoever.
Nearby, Conti watched the scene unfold and could only let out a tired sigh. They were only a day into this strange new world and already the signs of war and all its problems were rolling out the red carpet. He had been ordered to take lead of one of the detachments into town and take out the perps trying to raze it. Thus far, it looks as if this was going to be a quick affair. Already the other groups were reporting a hasty route on the enemy's side as all three tanks of theirs were knocked out successfully without casualty. A surprising fact considering their track record in the last war.
He shifted his attention to the radioman standing beside him. With a glance, the man edged closer to him before turning around and allowing his officer to use the handset. The Second-in-Command proceeded to dial in to the frequency in use by the command staff located just outside the town.
"This is Able, the Reds have been cleared out of the area. No casualties, will continue pursuit until the edge of the town. Over.
My thoughts were once again shaken as the radio sounded, alerting the occupants of the makeshift command post of the latest battlefield developments.
There was a wave of relief washing over the adults of the room as the tension left. It would seem that not even a second chance at life could put these men at ease from the thought of death.
Not that it put me off, mind you.
How to put this, I've been an utter wreck ever since I'd found out that I've most likely been sent to another world. It's one thing to read and imagine the thrill of a fresh start, and another to BE the guy getting reincarnated. On that point, I think the other soldiers aught to have been feeling the same kind of queasiness.
Speaking of other soldiers, I had the chance to ride on the back of an M3 Halftrack on the way here. Contrary to popular belief, the heat wasn't that much different this far from the equator where I'm from. I could feel my undershirt getting soaked in my sweat, but it was actually kinda soothing at the time.
The 30 minute trip was in utter silence, wether it was me, them or both of our parties, no one seemed eager to break the tension in the air as the convoy made its way across the country side. I had time to look through the equipment I was sporting on my person, and found a basic navigations kit consisting of strangely enough an empty map, some writing tools and a compass. Fiddling with the compass allowed me to know that we were moving North; if it wasn't already obvious at the time.
Eventually, the machine came to a grinding halt and everyone began to question just what was going on. I had a good hunch at the time as to what it was and it was solidified when the man I now know as Conti called me to the front. I made sure to ignore the stares as I made my way out the back and up to the top of the hill where the officer was waiting.
That was almost two hours ago, and right now the regiment -I had overheard from Mckay during the briefing- was located just outside of a town that was under assault. Initial viewing suggested some form of resistance, but whatever defences the town had must have been wrecked before we arrived.
After that, I lost attention and admittedly had to excuse myself quietly as to avoid dozing off and embarrassing myself further. From where we stood on a ridgeline overlooking the valley, I was easily able to make out the columns of smoke and burning architecture that was the town. Reports of gunfire followed by an occasional explosion could be heard, and deep down I realized that this was the closest to war that I had ever been.
Perhaps, it was my own over self-awareness playing the strings of my soul, or maybe a piece of my mind mature enough to understand the gravity of the situation, but the fact was that right now I'm sitting at the edges of an on-going, real combat zone with lives being robbed violently every moment. I'm immediately reaffirmed by something within me that this wasn't a game and that more people were going to die and stay down for good no matter what I did.
I was having an existential crisis and I wasn't even sure how to react to it. Except, by pulling my focus away from the weight of reality in an almost childish way- in my mind at least.
Almost subconsciously, I brought up a set of binoculars that I had on hand. Mind you, I was still in full gear -complete with a heavy backpack laden with supplies that would last me a long while- and to say it was uncomfortable was an understatement. Yet, with the amount of distress I was in, it was most definitely reassuring to have a physical weight pushing me down all the time.
Through the magnification lenses, I could make out the burning buildings clearer and even see the townspeople running for their lives out of ancient homes, much to my heartache. Yet, my shock would only come to be when I turned my gaze towards a peculiar individual armed with a rifle that yet again looked incredibly familiar to me.
The man was definitely in a uniform belonging to some military, despite being in a state of rags and tatters. What was most noteworthy was the helm he was wearing, which in my mind wasn't anything like the helms worn by any known faction that fought in the Great War of the 1940's.
But that's just it, right? It's NOT a faction that exists, rather it's from one that doesn't
…. I had to take a pause at that statement. My mind has never been the most orderly but it was never dull in the first place either. Just what army could use a helm that looked like it belonged more in the feudal ages then…. Wait.
That helm. The weird buildings at the centre of town. Something, something Europa….
My eyes scanned the valley below in hopes of something that would stir my memories some more. A familiar sensation welling up inside me was the feeling I needed to confirm that I already had the answer within my grasp, but if only I could just find that DAMN CLUE!
The search would end in not a moment too soon as I saw a familiar blue and white flag on the ground. It had just landed, probably blown by the wind from whatever perch it originally nestled upon. The flag of a non-existent nation. At least, not one from our world. That alone felt like someone pouring cooking oil on my head until I was soaked. My mind racing in how I was going to explain this to the adults in the tent behind me, which, mind you, had most certainly their own set of secrets they weren't sharing.
I was suddenly surprised at a foreign extremity on my right shoulder. There was conscious effort on my part to not let the surprise get the better of my heightened state of alarm. So, with my best poker face, I turned to look at the clearly annoyed face of Sgt. Conti whom looked less than pleased of having been probably ordered to haul my ass back to the meeting, despite my lack of relevance; me thinks.
I looked at the men in question, and in turn opened my mouth to speak but never got the chance as I was rudely shoved to go back inside the tent. The other officers of the army were looking at me questioningly, and I could only open and close my mouth like a fish out of the water.
Again, I would be brought out of my own stupor and into the limelight by a hard shove in the back. My lips pursed in tension as I steeled myself into forming the words that were about to come out of my mouth.
"I think I know where we are," I said. This caused one of the men to speak up.
"Yeah, so?"
My heart was racing. Nonetheless, I had to get the message through. Blunt and straightforward, just as any soldier likes.
"This isn't the Europe we knew. This is an entirely different world."
When the shock of the news settled down, I was asked…, ORDERED, to provide every piece of information I knew about this world. Naturally, I did as asked but sadly, it probably wasn't enough to give them any real tactical or strategic advantages outside of what was already the basics of modern combat.
Still, even I myself found it hard to believe that all of this was real. The US troops, the geography, the factions and people….
Video games being brought to life, with one of the two having actual -or at least close to real- counterparts from the same war they were inspired from.
All of it was simply nauseating, which was why I chose to sit back in the corner as the others began coordinating the troops to assault the town and repel the invaders. They had also made contact with the Gallians fleeing the town. Thus far, no one had been bothered to ask who they were but that was probably because the shock of it all had yet to settle down.
Just like me.
….I couldn't stand this anymore. I got up, and moved to the gathered men, most of which had relaxed postures and were now in the midst of assessing their war assets. No doubt, taking their recent skirmish as a prelude to war. I didn't wish to disturb them all except for one.
He knew I was coming. Despite not looking up from the clipboard, the way he simply turned his body to face me before I was well within speaking range was a tell-tale giveaway.
"You got something for me, son?"
"Yeah, two things actually."
"…,"
"I want in, and you can call me Zeke if you need a name."
This got the man to look up from his reading. Immediately, there was this look about as if he was staring into my soul -which come to think about it, he probably was in a sense. My own response was to immediately look him in the eye and try and keep my mind blank as possible.
It was far, far too stupid of me to think I'd ever have the immediate guts to tell the man in front of me that I could be ever as good as any of those under his command. The fact was, these men had done more than anyone in their time and beyond could ask for, and to challenge that in the wrong way was a guaranteed insult that wouldn't be taken lightly. However, that also meant that any chances I had for making on my own in this world would be hella slim if I couldn't be taking seriously.
Captain McKay would eventually cease his analysis after a good minute or two. It had felt like an hour before he broke his gaze and looked down for a moment, head nodding slightly as his mind probably was weighing his decisions. He turned to look at me and my heart was certain to sink as his mouth opened to tell me…
"Hey, Cap'n!"
This time, both of us were caught by surprise as Conti chose to appear from the side. His sweat could easily be seen dropping from his chin, and I noted there was this rather peculiar scent of smoke about him; probably from gunpowder discharges which wasn't anything surprising. McKay's response was immediate in that he'd turn to face his Second-In-Command.
"Conti, how did it go?"
"You serious, Mac?" said the incredulous NCO. He then splayed out.
"It wasn't even a fight man," he began. "Just a damn massacre! A turkey shoot!"
This brought whoops from the man who continued.
"Our Shermans sent them packing when their tanks got knocked out. Chased the stragglers all the way to the countryside. Some of our M8's managed to clean house. We have people working on the bodies, but in the meantime someone wants to speak with ya,"
The good captain was then reminded as well that someone was talking to him too, earlier. But when he turned around, he was gone. I was gone.
I hate two things above all else aside from the devil. Backtalk. And pity.
Earnestly, I wasn't surprised if the captain had every reason to refuse my request. The fact was, I was a nobody to them and that conversation earlier I overheard about me having a major part in tying them to this reality wasn't helping in the slightest. That didn't take into account my build and personality which was difficult to assess much less shape into army material.
I was weak. I knew this. Dumb, helpless and just so full of shit and reasons to hate.
I brushed of the thoughts as I helped load yet another crate into the truck. I'll admit it was kinda brash of me to leave the officer hanging like that, but I knew myself well enough to know that I wasn't the type to easily recover from rejection and failure fast. So it was with that in mind that I decided to fall back into doing something I favoured and keep me busy.
Helping people.
It didn't take too long, either. I just had to find the supply yard that was hastily assembled and discretely introduced myself that I was there to lend a helping hand. The clearly stressed men didn't hesitate on the matter and simply pointed me in the direction of some crates. It looked as if they had overdone themselves thinking the fighting was going to turn into a brawl.
We were done in about ten minutes and were in the process of climbing up and into the back of the truck ourselves; that being me and four other rear echelon personnel. By then, the rest of the supply yard was also packed up into trucks that were moving out one by one. Ours was the last to leave and had the honour of being the vehicle that separated the middle and the rear of the column. I had a hunch as to where we were going next and all I could do was wait until the time came for me to show myself once more.
"Hey, hey kid!" someone called out.
Turning my head to face the voice coming from my right, I responded.
"Yeah?"
"Never seen your face before. You part of some different outfit, or something?"
"Something like that, the top brass hasn't really decided wether I could join the front yet or not, so I figured I could keep myself busy until then by joining you guys,"
The man I was talking to let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a chuckle. "You must be stupid, then. This here is Rear Echelon! Good luck even remotely trying to remotely smell some grunt's ass after a firefight."
"You wanna bet that?" I challenged. The man went quite with his eyebrow raised. I was expecting an honestly apathetic or even cynincal sentiment to return but I was surprised when the person sitting in front of me began to chuckle.
"I like your style kid," came the voice; it sounded oddly forced, as if the man was trying to sound different than what was natural. He then offered me his hand.
"Name's Mike. 101st. Rear Echelon."
I took it without hesitation. The sun was just right so that my upper half was visible. Hopefully, I thought, it could help give the idea that I wasn't trying to be anything other than an eager recruit awaiting war.
"Call me Zeke. No name. No outfit," I paused to contemplate my next words. Then I added, "And I'm here to make a difference."
I wouldn't realize until much later just how significant those words were. And the impact my actions would have.
Author's Note:
Five years ago, I wrote my first story here on , inspired by the works of one Kamzil118 whom wrote plenty of ww2 fanfics, mainly crossing over the game Company of Heroes and X game/anime. Sadly, they have chosen to move on and as a part of that process removed a significant number of their old stories namely the Valkyria Chronicles crossover which was my first story outside of Gundam fanfics that I read.
To Kamzil118, I hope you do well in whatever you do. While I am admittedly saddened by the story's disappearance along with many more like it, I know I can't dissuade you from your decision. This story is meant to patch that up, along with many other things in my life, some personal of which are personal and others out of interest.
As with my more recent works, I'm using these stories to help rebuild my writing skill which has been eroded from pretty bad and wild times.
Until next time, farewell fellow readers!
