Chapter 5: The Desert Fox
"I served under a lot of noblemen; all of them were incompetent or just downright stupid. First, they'd look down on us with their noses turned up. Then the sods would turn to us whenever their masterful plans wouldn't work out. I remember the bloke before the Colonel, useless git that he was. He came in and said all this jabber about bringing glory to our disgraced Regiment. Wortrum or some such name, he wore this bloody lion pelt like a trophy. Some of the lads thought it would be a right good laugh if they snatched it. Should have seen him; he was ranting and raging at the entire Regiment. He was so mad he gathered us by Headquarters; there's a bridge right, where self-important blokes liked to yell at us. He was so bloody angry he leaned on the railing. The funny thing is maintenance never did more than kick the rail and tell everyone not to lean on it.
Splat, there goes our Commander; after that, we got our asses kicked into gear by the Colonel. Every bloke here wouldn't wanna serve under any other commander after that. So how do you bloody downgrade? Nah, once a Black Knight, always a Black Knight." – Sir George Garland, 108th Ashford Regiment Knightmare Pilot. Excerpt from "The Good ol' Ashford boys" mini-series.
Federation Territory
2016 a.t.b
Lybia
Black and silver knightmares jet across the sand. Two lead machines with dual rocket launchers weaved as the ground erupted into fire and shrapnel. Jeremiah smirked, heaving the launchers up and taking aim.
"Major, we just pushed past the minimum range of their main guns!" Alfred informed their Commander.
"Right-o lads, don't fall behind, Soersi!" Jeremiah laughed, pushing his machine ahead and firing rockets at the line of Bamides.
"Please, I already have more kills than you!" Kewell fired his rockets, destroying the Bamides before him. Their hulking shells sunk into the sand as their hover thrusters sputtered dead. The rest of the Knightmares rushed in, punching a hole in the Federation defensive line.
"Let's fix that, shall we?" Jeremiah emptied the remainder of his rockets on the tanks behind the Bamides. The tanks exploded into hellfire, and Jeremiah's Knightmare rushed in from the smoke, firing his Knightmare rifle. "Have at the Federation scum!"
"With the Major!" Alfred roared, and his brothers followed, sowing chaos among the Federation forces.
"I have no qualms fighting these enemies!" Claudio charged ahead, destroying tanks left and right. Bart, David, and Edgar f1ell behind, covering their brother's rears.
Lelouch stood by the tactical display inside his G-1 Mobile Command base, far from the field. A parting gift from Major Powell. It had been Lieutenant Colonel's Pandergast spare command vehicle. After a quick coat of paint was applied and a false report of its destruction sent to Casablanca, Lelouch left with better accommodations. "Colonel, Major Gottwald, and Soersi's Lances have broken the enemy center." Lelouch's Communication officer updated him.
"So I see. Have Major Villeta's Lance push the right flank and have our left flank commence an encirclement maneuver." Lelouch stroked his chin watching the Federation's forces start to fall apart under his assault. Lelouch chuckled; Cornelia was pushing their southern flank. Much to Joffery's anger, Lelouch was advancing faster than him and breaking the Northen flank further. If this push kept up, Lelouch was sure they'd retake Cairo before Christmas.
"Federation forces have signaled the retreat. What are your orders, Colonel?" The Comms officer turned to Lelouch from his instruments.
"Have Jeremiah and Kewell harry their retreat; if their rear guards prove too much trouble, break pursuit." Lelouch looked at the tactical map, watching the red arrows representing Federation forces break formation.
"Roger that, Colonel," The officer turned back to do as commanded.
Lelouch gave one more look at the map, "Major Roland," Lelouch signaled one of his officers.
"Sir!" He snapped to attention.
"Handle the mop-up; you know the drill; all surrendering forces are to be passed back to the Lieutenant Colonel," Lelouch smirked, and his officer returned the gesture. "I'll keep ensuring the Lieutenant Colonel gets them, Sir."
Lelouch left his officers to finish mop-up operations and retired to his quarters. He took a seat behind his desk and leaned back. He closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh, and allowed himself a moment of pride. After the successful attack on their airport, Lelouch spearheaded a counterattack pushing the Federation forces out of Morocco. The Federation promptly beat it across Algeria with Lelouch and his sister nipping at their heels. To the Federation's credit, they have been fighting nothing short of masterful rear guard delaying actions. Nevertheless, Lelouch felt strange; rather than beating it to a strong point, they seemed to be purposefully stalling Britannian forces.
The smile on his face slipped, and he leaned on his threaded fingers on his desk. Rumors had been flying around since the beginning of the war of new enemy Knightmare frames. The rumors suggested they had spearheaded the push out of Cairo to Morocco. Cornelia has, of yet, reported no unknown silhouettes. Still, Lelouch couldn't discount such rumors when the local Britannian forces had been utterly broken. Closing his eyes, Lelouch rubbed his temples and sighed. It didn't matter; if such an enemy appeared before him, Lelouch would have to take them head-on. Lelouch opened the left top drawer in his desk and took out a letter from Nunnally he had received recently.
Lelouch
Euphy and I are following your progress on the news daily. Euphy has also clipped news articles and put them in a scrapbook. I miss you terribly, and so does Euphy, and Arthur also misses you. He says the Villa feels empty without you hustling about. It's alright though Euphy and I have been keeping busy. We hear there are a lot of families being affected by the war. So Euphy and I decided to hold a concert, I know you wanted to keep me from the spotlight, but I want to help too, big brother. So this is my small way of helping if only to soothe the worried people's souls. But I think I've written enough; I wouldn't want you reading this and shirking your duties! I only jest; you are in our prayers now and forever, big brother.
Lovingly Nunnally and Euphemia
Lelouch smiled, though he could not help but feel worried at his sister exposing herself to their enemies. Perhaps a blessing in disguise had landed on his lap in this manner. Much as Lelouch had Jeremiah, Lelouch had been looking for a Knight to protect Nunnally. Several candidates had become available to him since his push out of Morocco as he surveyed every man in the Regiment. Lelouch took everything from psych evaluations to general disposition and combat skills into account. Naturally, he wanted the right fit for his sister. Fortunately, such a candidate had been delivered on a silver platter during his opening gambit.
The phone on his desk rang, and he picked it up. "Ah, Major Roland, what's the status?"
"Sir, our forces have broken the rearguard. They surrendered unconditionally when Major Villeta cut off their retreat. Colonel, their forces have collapsed; we have a clear shot across Lybia."
A savage grin crossed Lelouch's lips. "excellent news, Major; what's our status?"
"We took light casualties in the pursuit; bastards fought us tooth and nail. Six Sutherlands scrapped. Three successful ejections; the rest are KIA, another three Sutherlands disabled and needing towing and repairs, two more glasgows scrapped and being cannibalized for parts as we speak." Major Roland grumbled, listing off their losses.
"I'd say a good trade-off for breaking their rear guard. Make sure the men return to good meals, and congratulations, Major." Lelouch hummed.
"Understood, Colonel, that concludes my report of the operation. Would you require anything else?"
"Yes, contact Jeremiah, have Lieutenant Claudio Dalrton report to my quarters upon his arrival, and debrief." Lelouch reached into his other drawer and pulled out Claudio's file.
"Understood, Colonel," Major Ronald hung up and left Lelouch to gather his thoughts.
Half an hour later, still in his combat suit, Claudio knocked on Lelouch's door. He unzipped the suit past his collarbone and let the cool air cool his chest when Lelouch's voice beckoned him inside. Claudio entered and stood at attention, fist across his chest. "Reporting as requested, Colonel."
"Good; we have been fighting the feds for so long that we didn't get a chance to talk after the airport operation." Lelouch opened the file on his desk and looked at the young man's service record.
Lieutenant F2 Caludio Dalrton
Assigned: Knightmare Pilot "Orange" Lance, Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 108th Light Armor Regiment, 21st Georgian Divison, X Corps, 4th Royal Army Group
Age: 16
Serial #: 3362251
Psych Eval: Eager and moral to a fault, he has proven bravery under fire and displays great social aptitude with nobles and commoners alike. Recommended for low-level field command Lieutenant F1.
Service Record: Served personally under Lieutenant Colonel Andreas Darlton and Major General Cornelia Li Britannia. Received special commendations from his immediate superior officers and was inducted into the Glaston Knights Special forces directly under Major General Cornelia's command. Started out with a short tenure in the Royal Marines, where he was Knighted. Currently assigned under Colonel Lelouch's command.
"Your service record is impeccable, Lieutenant," Lelouch commented, closing the folder. "At ease, soldier."
"Thank you, sir," Claudio rested with his hands behind his back. "Sir, if I may?"
"Please," Lelouch gestured with his hand.
"Is this about my actions at the Airport raid?" Claudio stared ahead, his face neutral.
"I would like to talk about that, yes," Lelouch threaded his fingers and rested his chin on them.
"I don't apologize for my actions, sir." Claudio did not falter, and his voice was resolved.
"May I ask why soldier?" Lelouch lifted a brow.
"…" Claudio frowned, his hands balling into fists behind his back. "My father taught me to be a good man and instilled the chivalry that comes with earning one's spurs as a knight. People may call me foolish for believing in the chivalric code, but killing unarmed men in their beds is not how a Knight should act." Claudio closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Sir, I take full responsibility and will take any punishment you deem fit."
"Disobeying a direct order is grounds for a court-martial," Lelouch stated matter of factly.
"I will bare it as a Knight then, Sir."
"Is this your final word on your conduct?" Lelouch glared at Knight, but to his surprise and growing admiration, he did not falter.
"No, Sir," Claudio returned to attention, standing as still as stone.
Lelouch stared the down the soldier a while longer, looking for any signs of faltering. Finally, Lelouch hummed and hid his smile behind his threaded fingers. "Very well, I shall keep this in mind baring your future in this Regiment; you are dismissed, Lieutenant."
Claudio saluted smartly and about-faced out of Lelouch's office. Once the door closed behind him, the young soldier sighed and wiped his brow. He had been expecting a way harder reprimand.
Federation Territory
2016 a.t.b
Lybia, 40 kilometers from Tobruk City
The Ashford Regiment was making good progress, and their exploits were the talk of the homeland. A great honor for the Regiment's commanding officer and, by extension, the Commander of the Division. However, to Prince Joffrey We Britannia, it was an outrage. His fool of a media spokesman had failed miserably at turning Lelouch's victories into his own. Instead, Diethard Reed was immortalizing his half-brother before his very eyes! As Lelouch gained fame, Joffrey continued diving deeper into obscurity! But, as his aide de camp Duke Wellington just finished explaining. Now was the time to take the lead. Lelouch had just finished breaking the Federation Rear Guard. This left the corridor open to march his Division to Tobruk. Retaking the port city would undoubtedly regain any fame lost to Lelouch.
"Lieutenant Whitely, send my order to Colonel Lelouch; he is to hold his position as my rear guard as I advance on Tobruk." Joffrey straightened his back and swept his arm outward.
"Yes, Sire, as you command," Whitely pursed his lips; as head of communications, he was privy to the Division going on. As things stood, though, hardly seen any fighting, and the men had grown complacent. By all reports, Tobruk had been fortified and was the base of operations for the Federation's offensive. The Prince rushing ahead of Prince Lelouch and Princess Cornelia was bloody madness. Still, he was a soldier and did as he was told. He only hoped the proximity to the Prince spared his own bacon should the worst come to pass.
Some miles ahead, Lelouch, for his part, smirked the orders set before him. "Ah, brother, your brilliant tactical mind must outshine mine. For this plan, though foolhardy to mine own inexperienced brain." Lelouch chuckled mockingly, "it must be nothing short of machiavellian brilliance that I simply do not see on your part."
"So, do we do as told, Colonel?" Villetta, still in her pilot suit, asked her liege.
"Oh, I believe so; two things are bound to happen." Lelouch leaned back and drank from his canteen on his desk. "My brother reaches Tobruk unmolested and must maintain a siege with half strength." Lelouch wiped his mouth, "or the Federation intercept him with overwhelming force."
"Do you believe they can field such a force, Colonel?" Kewell, in a similar state of dress, asked.
"This is their base of operations for the eastern front. So the moment their forces collapsed, they had to have been gathering in force at Tobruk." Lelouch shrugged, "it's what I would have done, at least."
"Then we sit and let Prince Joffrey either make a fool of himself or be put in a position to ask for our help," Jeremiah smirked and crossed his arms. "I like it, Sire."
"I'm glad you do, have the men rest up and be on standby; Joffrey will provide us an opportune moment regardless of the outcome." Lelouch sighed, content to wait. Joffrey's blunder would be his boom in due time.
"Alright, you heard the Colonel; let's get this Regiment on top order," Jeremiah stood and saluted. His friends and fellow officers did the same, leaving Lelouch to rap his knuckles on his desk before deciding to walk the camp and see his men. It would do good to show himself right now. Keeping morale up by making an appearance costs him little.
Federation Territory
2016 a.t.b
Tobruk City limits.
The last of the rearguard not crushed by the Britannians rushed into the city before Adolfo's Regiment. Colonel Adolfo Guderian Rommel standing on the open cockpit of his hummel, watched the sorry bunch pass by. "These should be the last of them," Adolfo plopped down on his seat and closed the cockpit. "Murat, talk to me; the last of the Feds are here. How's it looking?"
"As you predicted, the Brits have the scent of blood on their nose and are on the march. ETA four hours." The radio crackled with his french compatriot's voice.
"Good," Rommel switched channels and addressed the whole of his men. "Gentlemen, the Brits have taken the bait; everyone to combat stations, we are now on contingent Zeta status. So get ready to show these brits how the EU fights."
"Sir!" The chorus from his officers reverberated in the cockpit. Adolfo switched channels again and spoke to Murat, "Murat, keep your eyes on the Brits; you know what to do."
"Understood, Colonel, entering radio silence until operations begin." Murat closed the channel and addressed his platoon Captain through tight-beam communication. One of his Panzerm factsphere swiveled, and a laser flickered on aimed at another hummel some meters away. "We are now restricted to tight beam communication; the Brits will be crossing the highway soon."
"Yavol, Major," the pilot responded promptly. Murat sighed and leaned back in his seat. He closed his eyes, and as he rested for a moment, his mind drifted to a time long lost. The smell of spring filled his nostrils, though it was sour by the copper taste of blood in his mouth. Defiant eyes looked on heatedly at the boys who had beat on him. The Schule Schloss Salem International College was a prestigious all-boys academy in Germany. Joachim Murat had been sent to the College by his father. A hasty response after an incident with the son of a servant under his family's employment. Joachim was now facing the re-precaution of the leaked incident to his classmates. Now Joachim was met with open disgust at worse and veiled contempt at best, all hidden beneath polite and abrupt conversations.
Today was new; today, Joachim, tired of it all, insulted the son of a member of the EU Parlament. The son one, Gregor Albescu of Romania, gathered his underlings and decided to beat Joachim out of his 'sickness.' As they kicked him mercilessly, they called it kindness. But as Gregor lifted his boot for a final kick at his already bruised ribs, something happened that would change Jochaim's life forever. He met Adolfo Guderian Rommel.
"Agh!" Gregor fell back, holding his bloody nose after a book struck him.
"Scheiße gottverdammter lauter rumänischer Bastard!" A voice from on high had Jochaim blink, and he turned to see a very irate fellow student on a tree. The fellow rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glared down at the gathered party below him. "Ich werde meinen Vater dafür töten, dass er mich mit diesen Idioten hierher geschickt hat!"
"You, how dare you strike me!" Gregor demanded.
"Was? ach ja, ich muss mit dem ziegenbumsenden rumänischen Bauern auf Englisch sprechen." The young man hopped down the tree dusting off his slacks and yawning. "You disturbed my sleep you yokel." The young man rolled his head around poping his neck in the process.
"Do you know who you are talking to?" Gregor and his thugs stepped up to intimidate the newcomer.
"Gods, you barely speak English; I dare not hear you talk in your peasant country's tone." The young man egged on Jochaim's attackers.
"Bastard!" Gregor rushed and swung his fist at him. Then, in one swift move, the young man sneaked his arm around the punch and flipped Gregor over his shoulder, slamming him unconscious. "Ah, all that bluster to be knocked on his back." The young rolled his eyes, then probed the hulking Romanin with his shoe until he groaned. "Well, he's alive; anyone else wants to try?" He turned to Gregor's companions, who instead chose to run.
"Feiglinge," the young man uttered in his German tongue again.
"Danke, forgive the french accent," Joachim stood slowly, holding his side.
"Oh, don't think you should thank me, they're probably going to take this out on you." The young man shrugged. "It's the way of the stupid and strong. They fear trying to beat anyone stronger than themselves and are content with picking on those below them. Ugh, how Britannian of them."
Joachim watched the young man's face turn into disgust at the name of their enemies across the sea. "Ah, I have not asked your name even after you saved me. I am Joachim Murat." Joachim extended his hand.
Without so much as a hesitation, the young man shook it firmly. "I am Adolfo Guderian Rommel," the young man grinned, accenting his handsome features. "So, what now, Joachim?"
"Pardon?" Joachim blinked.
"You will be a pariah if you do not do something soon," Adolfo gestured to the still knocked-out Gregor. "Fools like him will continue picking on you until you grow strong enough to fight back."
"Then it seems I am alone against the wolves," Joachim smirked mirthlessly.
"Have you no allies to call on?" Adolfo frowned.
"None but my sister; she is quite mean with a saber." Joachim looked away, pursing his lips together.
"Hmm, then I shall make you a deal," Adolfo put a hand on Jochaim's shoulder. "Come with me; I shall show you how to be strong, and where you are weak, we shall find men who can be strong for you."
"What?" Joachim looked bewildered at Adolfo.
"You heard me, a fair proposition, no?" Adolfo crossed his arms, and only now Joachim noticed the imposing figure he cut. Clearly, Adolfo was not just a regular student. But more than that, Joachim felt…something. It was magnetizing, making every word of Adolfo's sound like predestined promises.
"What do you expect in return?" Joachim, not one to sell his loyalty so quickly to a stranger, composed himself.
Adolfo laughed, smiling broadly and in a boyish manner. "I require a man of your temperament, you see, for I have seen you around campus and class. You are diligent and, above all, intelligent. I would have you be my partner and assistant, an aide camp if you will."
"Huh, you sound as if you're building an army." Joachim chortled, amused, yet he could not deny his heart beginning to hammer against his chest. Adolfo's enthusiasm and words took root in his heart easily.
To Joachim's words, Adolfo grinned, "building an army is a somewhat monumental task. So no, instead, I'll take one on my own." The german youth turned south, his gaze on some distant battlefield that Joachim could not perceive.
"Y-you're serious." Joachim's rhetorical question begged an answer for something he could only describe as pride began to swell in his chest. Adolfo had approached him and asked Joachim Murat to rise beyond their standing together.
"Desperately so," Adolfo turned on a dime and pointed a finger west. "Because there lies the dragon of the west." Adolfo glared west towards the nation of Britannia. "No, more like the hydra, monstrous and powerful."
"A hydra that size will require a mighty sword." Joachim swallowed his pain forgotten.
"Yes, I will require many brave men to wield many swords at my sides. So Joachim Murat, what say you. Will you join me and become the sword of Democracy?"
"To the ends of the earth and back, mon général." Joachim clicked his heels together and offered a crisp salute at the young man he fiercely believed would bring significant change to Europia United.
"Major, I've spotted the Brits; they should be in a position in a hundred and twenty seconds." The voice from the radio snapped Joachim out of his thoughts, and he griped the control sticks of his Knightmare firmly. "So it begins," muttered the proud Frenchman.
"they are approaching in a wedge formation, visual on ten frames." The radio crackled to life.
"Easy, let them pass further in." Another voiced.
Finally, cresting over the hill, the Britannian G1 command vehicle rumbled on. "Be advised, I have eyes on the fat lady." Joachim grinned savagely.
"Hard to miss her; she's got an Armored Regiment-sized escort." Muttered a heavily Scottish voice.
"Wait for her to stop at the highway entrance," Joachim felt his heart hammer against his chest. Then, just as he said, the G1 vehicle stopped dead at the base of the highway. "Taker them down!"
Joachim's hummel powered up all systems, and the hulking Knightmare revealed itself dropping the tarp that was covering it. Joachim fired his right arm 120mm cannon, destroying a Sutherland whole. His compatriots revealed themselves and, hell, let loose. The Knightmares scrambled to find cover. The G1 instantly lumbered backward before panels opened on the sides. The mobile base, now bristling with auto guns, returned fire. The 36mm shells of the Knightmare assault rifles hardly dented the armor of a hummel. Still, those autocannons were spitting something fiercer, as one of Murats compatriot's cockpit exploded outwards before the hummel fell back in a burning wreck.
Despite the surprise, Joachim admitted the brits re-organized themselves fairly quickly. Though their losses started mounting. By his count, they'd lost twelve Knightmares. Joachim grimaced as an autocannon shell pinged off the right side of his armor, and he fell back, taking cover behind the wrecked homes. "Colonel, the Fat Lady, is falling back, but be careful she's loaded."
"Roger, push her to us were about a klick out from the ambush point." Adolfo's voice, though collected, betrayed the savage smirk on his face.
"Understood, lay on the pressure and force them back!" Joachim ordered, and his unit began pressing forward. The Britannians were forced to give ground with their weapons rendered practically useless. Joachim commanding two platoons of hummels, smiled with satisfaction as the G1 cleared the immediate field cresting back down the main road. Now safely out of its autocannon's line of sight, he pushed his hummel to maximum speed. Rushing the retreating Britannian force.
Meanwhile, inside the G1 command base, Joffrey gripped his command chair with a white-knuckled grip. His officers were scrambling. The command center was in utter chaos.
"What the hell are those things?"
"It's not Federation, and we have no damn matching silhouettes!"
"Martins Lance is down to squad strength, have him pull back!"
"Oh god, more of them just appeared to our rear and flanks; we've been enveloped!"
"What!" Joffrey bolted up, eyes wide and a feeling he had never felt before creeping up his spine. Fear, and just as equally dread. "W-wheres my sister?" Joffrey demanded.
"Her Division is still Kilometers away; she won't make it in time." One of his officers informed gravely.
"Pull all our forces back, and have them form at our rear to break the encirclement!" Joffrey ordered.
"Sire we cant!" Another officer griamced.
"Why not?" Joffrey demanded, "those men are sworn to protect Britannia and mine royal body!"
"That's what they are currently doing, Sire. If we pull them out of the front, the enemy will position itself at range to make the weapons effective against the G1's armor." The officer bowed, though his teeth were bared in annoyance and anger at the order given.
"Sire, There's an isolated village half a click west of our position. We must entrench ourselves there and hold the line!" The same officer straightened his back.
"What, then, what do you suggest we do? Wait for them to kill us all?" Joffrey barked.
"No, you placed Prince Lelouch's Regiment on reserve. He can strike from their rear and-!" A shot rang out, followed by a scream as the officer fell, holding his bleeding shoulder.
"How dare you!" Joffrey screeched, his sidearm shaking in his grip. "How dare insinuate I need that…that common-born bastard to save me!"
The officer struggled to his feet, gritting his teeth, "Sire," he began before another shot rang out, hitting him on the leg and making him fall again. The other officers watched in fear and disgust at the treatment of their fellow soldiers.
"Silence, or I will execute you with my next shot!" Joffrey barked.
"It won't change the situation!" The officer barked, and Joffrey actually jumped on his heels. The officer stood once more, his legs shaking as he did. "If you do not fall back now, the enemy will close the trap and finish us here and now. Retreating to the village gives us a chance!" He gasped, breathing heavily, "I shall take responsibility and say I disobeyed your orders and asked for help from Prince Lelouch without your knowledge." The officer sighed, gathering himself.
"Y-yes, good do that, and if word of this gets out, every man here shall suffer the Colonel's same fate. Are we clear?" Joffrey seethed.
"Yes, Sire!" The officers replied tightly. A fellow officer moved to help the wounded man, but he shook his head as he limped his way to the radio and relieved the operator. "This is Colonel Whitemane to Ashford Regiment with a priority transmission."
There was a brief static before a response. "Ashford to Command, send your traffic."
"We have been ambushed by an unknown enemy using unknown Knightmare frames. We are retreating to the following coordinates and requesting immediate relief on my authority."
"Roger that, The Black Knights are coming; hold tight, Colonel."
With that, Colonel Whitemane breathed a sigh of relief, not for his charge's life. But for the men under his command who were desperately fighting for their lives outside the G1 base. Finally, a fellow officer grabbed and hauled him to the medical wing. Joffrey growled and promptly stomped out of the command room. With him gone, all the gathered men saluted their wounded fellow officer, thanking him for their lives.
Federation Territory
2016 a.t.b
Five kilometers from Tobruk
Lelouch entered the command center of the G1, "officer on deck!" a voice shouted. The room of operators and officers halted and turned to their commanding officer with a crisp salute.
"At ease," Lelouch waved away the formality and stood before the tactical map at the center of the bridge. Jeremiah, Kewell, and Villetta dutifully stood at either side of the display, arms crossed behind their back. "Let's begin the briefing then," Lelouch closed his eyes and nodded.
"Right," Villetta bent down, hitting the touch screen to bring up the battlefield, enemy, and friendly positions. "Major General Joffrey Eu Britannia's 21st Division is currently pinned on this village five kilometers from our position. According to his staff, they have suffered heavy casualties to an unknown enemy, Knightmare Frame. I will now bring up all relevant data." Next, Villetta brought up images from Sutherland's factspheres, readings, and other technical data.
"By Jove, what the bloody hell are those things?" Kewell narrowed his eyes at the hulking behemoth on screen.
Villetta looked to Lelouch, who nodded for her to continue the briefing. "There are currently no known Shilouttes on our database; for the sake of the briefing, we shall be naming this unit the Mad Cat. According to frontline reports, 36mm Knightmare assault rifle fire is ineffective outside close quarters. The most effective spots when engaged in CQC are the sides and back. However, a straight shot with an anti-Knightmare grenade launcher to the bottom of the cockpit block seems to force an ejection. Additionally, its turning speed and radius seem much slower than our Sutherlands. Working in elements of two appears to be the best bet to engage a single Mad Cat."
"Then they are the supposed mystery units. What did the men call them? The Ghost division?" Lelouch felt his lips quirk up slightly at the mismurmur
"Yes, but to be frank, reports indicate them at a Regiment size detachment," Villetta added.
"Yet they backed the good Major General into a corner." Given that Joffrey was commanding a full-on Armored Cavalry Regiment, his Knightmare frames exceeded Lelouch's, which had to be augmented with Tanks and Glasgows. Still, his half-brother was also not the sharpest man around.
"Very well, continue with the briefing, Major Villetta." Lelouch nodded.
"Yes, Sir," Villetta returned the screen to the map and enemy positions. The Major General's current situation has him totally surrounded." The map showed the small village and the enemy Regiment broken down into battalions keeping the 21st Division trapped. The enemy force is broken into five Battalions blocking off all exits. However, to facilitate our counteroffensive, the 21st Division has focused on the Battalion to their northwest and our southeast. Though this has incurred further losses, it should have weakened the attacking force enough to allow for a breakthrough." Villetta finished her report by clicking her heels and returning to parade rest.
"Alright, then, the attack plan is as follows." Lelouch touched the screen bringing up their own formations. "Our numerical disadvantage due to our lack of Knightmares means we will have to attack hard and fast. 1st and 2nd battalions will move in a wing formation and punch through their weakened southeast forces. 3rd Battalion is a mix of most of our Glasgows, and Longbow tanks will pull up the rear and keep the enemy facing our way. The Longbow railgun, I believe, is perfect to deliver the killing blow to these Mad Cats. As such, all Glasgow's and Sutherlands on the 3rd Battalion will run interference to allow the Longbows the relative safety to line up shots."
"That's going to be a bloody madhouse," Jeremiah muttered. "I volunteer my Lance to shore up the 3rd Battalion."
"No, we need every available unit for the initial punch to have the momentum to break through. We must trust the 3rd Battalion's skills to see them through the day." Lelouch grimaced slightly, not comfortable putting his men at such odds against a technologically superior enemy. "Are there any questions about the battle plan?" Lelouch looked to his Majors.
"No, we're ready to go, Colonel." Kewell saluted smartly.
"Very well, to your men then, and make haste. Black Knights, move out!" Lelouch threw his hand out, tossing his cap back over his shoulders.
"Yes, Sir!" the room erupted as preparations for the coming battle commenced.
Federation Territory
2016 a.t.b
Brega Village outisde Tobruk
"What do you mean they aren't coming!" It was less a question and more an indignant statement. Adolfo punched the side of his cockpit. He had explicitly requested the Federation re-arm and re-organize at Tobruk with brand-new Bamides shipped into the damn fort! Everything had gone exactly as planned! First, Murat forced them back, then once they detected him coming in for a pincer maneuver, they would be forced to the village. Now they were a damn stationary target where the Feds could shell them with impunity! Everything was going his way until the Feds turned into bloody cowards! Why was every nation outside the EU so damn useless against the Brits?
"Gah! Colonel," Major Strauss came over the radio distraught.
"Report," Adolfo grunted, wondering if the gods were dead set against him.
"Enemy force spotted from the northwest. The brits in the village have also pushed out to meet us. Were being boxed in!" Strauss barked over the sounds of 120mm fire.
"What's the enemy's strength?" Quickly Adolfo hit the keys on his dashboard, bringing up a tactical map. As a command unit, he had operational data feeds from all Knightmare elements. The enemy entering minimum Factsphere range began popping up.
"Two Knightmare Battalions!" Strauss responded before cursing German as a loud explosion echoed inside the cockpit. "Raul was forced to eject; what are our orders, Colonel?"
"The Feds are evacuating Tobruk," Adolfo stated plainly.
"What?" Strauss shouted indignantly.
"If I were to guess, the unit attacking us was held in reserve. Given our last intelligence, I believe it's safe to assume all Federation forces are withdrawing to the final defense line in Egypt." Adolfo sighed and rubbed his temples.
"Then that means..." Strauss sighed, teeth gritted in frustration.
"Correct, the Federation forces have been utterly trounced. Princess Cornelia will be swinging her wing our way to secure Tobruk. But, unfortunately, it seems we won't be delivering the crippling blow I had hoped for." Adolfo sighed.
"…" Strauss pursed his lips, only his strained breath coming through the receiver.
"Now then," Adolfo switched channels to his entire Regiment. "Attention all forces, the worst has come to pass. Operation Intruder has failed, and as of now, we are acting in accordance with Operation Hammerfell. The 10th and 9th Battalions currently engaged swing to your respective wings and link up with the 8th and 7th Battalions, respectively. First, let the enemy wedge through. Then, begin the retreat after you have fallen back in good order. Finally, the 8th and 7th Battalions will commence rearguard maneuvers. Godspeed, gentlemen!" Adolfo sighed, and per the guidelines of the operation, Adolfo ripped the unit patch on his shoulder, revealing the one hidden behind it. A Grey wolf with an eyepatch and a knife between its mouth on a black cross. Below the wolf read the words "Die Höllenwölfe." The wolves of hell Regiment detachment from the Europia United 2nd Army Group 1st Afrika Korps 15th Panzer Division 5th Die Höllenwölfe Panzer Hummel Regiment.
Across the field, Jeremiah felt a bead of sweat run down his scarred cheek. The Mad Cats were something else, not to mention well-trained. It took all of his skill to keep him and his Lance alive. The moment they were in range, the Mad Cats opened up a barrage of 120mm cannon fire. Their superior mobility was augmented by the open ground. However, maintaining an element was crucial to break through. However, much to his confusion, the Mad Cat Battalions began an orderly retreat as they drew closer to CQC range.
Not too far behind, Lelouch narrowed his eyes at the live feed on the command table. He crossed his arms, thinking the situation through. "Why did he let us through? Now we can regroup and coordinate a better counterattack." Lelouch's widened as something clicked in his brain. "Have the 1st and 2nd Battalions pull back, and re-engage the retreating enemy. Don't let them pull back in good order!" He stroked his chin and scanned the movements. "Contact Major General Joffrey," Lelouch groaned and rubbed his temples. "Ask the Major General if he can regroup and push the enemy center." They were bruised and battered, but if this worked, Lelouch could catch the enemy in his own pincer maneuver. "Have the 3rd Battalion tanks take a position on the ridgeline to the village and provide support. Which Battalion took the heaviest casualties?"
"Sir, 1st battalion with Captain Freeman and Major Kewell."
"Have the 3rd Battalion's Galsgows reinforce the 1st Battalion." Lelouch quickly ordered.
"Yes, Sir!" his officers got to work immediately.
On Prince Joffrey's command deck, with Colonel Whitemane hospitalized, the Prince could only grit his teeth as his damnable brother dared to send him HIM, a full-blooded Prince Commands. No one dared pipe up either after what happened to the Colonel. "Inform Colonel Lelouch we are in no condition to counterattack. Have all remaining forces form a perimeter around the G1 and hold their ground!"
On the ground, Adolfo clicked his tongue at the development of the battle. The enemy did act on the obvious tactic. They did not regroup with their comrades; instead, they pursued the 10th and 9th Battalions, respectively. "Which means you want to push my center, so I am forced to hold my ground while my flanks reform," Adolfo smirked; he would have been mildly worried, but given there was no movement in the village besides reinforcing their positions, there must be a division between commands.
"7th and 8th battalions divide at half strength and support your wings," Adolfo ordered.
Across the field, Lelouch frowned as a report came in. "elements from the enemy lines have broken off to reinforce their retreating forces."
"So I see, Joffrey's bloody inaction will only cost my men their lives. Have the Battalions pull back and re-organize the village, and as soon as they are in proper order, attack the enemy center."
On Adolfo's side, he felt a growing curiosity about the enemy commander. He pulled back his attacking wings and folded them in the center into a spear. "How long before the 10th and 9th Battalions reform?"
"Neigel here, two minutes."
"Strauss reporting were just about done."
"Understood; once both elements are in proper order, begin retreat as planned. The rest of us will cease ground gradually. Be prepared for any flanking maneuvers."
"Yavol, Colonel!" the two men gruffly barked.
On Lelouch's side, with his arms folded and two fingers tapping rhythmically on his right bicep, he watched the maneuvers unfold. "Any change from Joffrey?"
"Negative; the Major General insists on holding his position." His Radio operator grumbled, annoyed.
Lelouch sighed and shook his head, "very well, then no longer incurring further losses is now our top priority. Have 1st and 2nd Battalions cancel their attack and instead hold their ground. Have the 3rd Battalion tank units continue long-range support."
"Yes, Colonel!"
Adolfo, with a bit of relief and no small amount of curiosity, began a full retreat the moment his enemy ceased its advance. Whoever Adolfo just rattled sabers with was a far better commander than the Brit he had cornered. "All Hell Wolves, deploy countermeasures and retreat, I say again, deploy countermeasures and retreat."
Lelouch watched the Mad Cat units on his screen blink out of existence. His radio operator instantly explained. "Colonel, all units report the enemy deployed a heavy chaff smoke cover and retreated at full speed."
"I see," Lelouch closed his eyes in thought. The enemy commander was good. Alarmingly good even, Lelouch felt an odd jilt to his spine despite this. The jilt one gets when they've found a worthy opponent. The enemy proved cunning, resourceful, and intelligent to know that even if he currently held both a numerical and technological advantage, being caught between Lelouch and Cornelia's boots would have been unwise.
Lelouch smirked and signaled his operator. "Give me an open channel."
"Right away, Colonel," the operator hit a few keys, then signaled Lelouch with a thumbs up.
"To the enemy commander, well fought and played. My regards to a would-be Desert Fox." The channel closed, and Lelouch signaled for the usual post-battle regroup and re-count.
Across the city, Adolfo smirked hearing the message and replied with one of his own. "To the would-be hunter, your hounds caught the scent of blood and were caught in a bind. May the hunter try and find me again."
Even now, decades later, people debate if the Black Prince and the infamous second coming of Erwin Rommel really did say these words to each other. Today, in the German War Museum in Berlin, Rommels personal Knightmare Frame the "Wolkaiser." Had its black box examined, no record of the exchange was found. Some speculate the black box failed to record this due to an error. Others theorized that EU High Command had it deleted, given the later happenings of Rommel's carrier.
Interviews with both men years later left the world wanting, as neither man could recollect their words that day. Both parties signed simply forgetting due to the passage of time. However, records from the G1 command base were lost due to events in the war. But frankly, as a man of history and a bit of a fan of both men, I'd like to think these words were said. Because nothing adds to the allure of mythic men like words that may or never have left their lips.
-From the BBC documentary "The lost history of The Black Prince and 2nd Coming of Erwin Rommel."
Hello everyone, sorry for the long silence, life sort of happened. This is a short author's note hope you enjoy the chapter.
