46th Legion
We were the strongest of our brothers. Our will was unbreaking, unyielding to the enemy despite the hardships of war and unending death. Our strength and spirit unbowed, unflinching when faced with the horrors our galaxy could offer. Our ferocity unmatched, our fury akin to old gods of war made manifest, and yet we failed. We failed our brothers when it mattered most. We were the stalwart bastion upon which the enemy would throw themselves and the battering ram that broke the back of the foe. But, for all our strength, our tenacity, our unyielding power and spirit, we were helpless to resist the foe when it mattered.
We were the 46th Legion, and this is our story.
Kamino
21 BBY
We stood at attention, in our rows upon rows of brothers, of soldiers armored in white yet to see the horrors of war and experience the maelstrom of emotions that was combat, eager to plunge directly into the thick of it without care for the danger. I stood in front of them, my majors and captains to my left and right, the lieutenants of each company, battalion and regiment stood by their respective units, stiff and exacting.
We were waiting for our General to appear, and after that, we would be under way.
The comm network was silent, all waiting with giddy anticipation and wonder. It was a momentous occasion to be assigned your General. It was the defining moment for every brother in the GAR, it was the moment that you were truly a soldier of the Republic. The prestige of gaining a Jedi General was a thing of envy amongst the GAR, especially amongst brothers still stationed on Kamino. It meant freedom, it meant honor, glory and so much more.
They would see battle, and finally rid themselves of the term 'Shiny' that describes most of the brothers on Kamino, and those assigned to garrison and medical duties. To be shiny is to not be respected by those who were part of the first battle of the war, all legends amongst the cadets and newly graduated classes. Every vod wanted to earn the honor of partaking in battle, and with the war escalating in earnest, there would be plenty of it to come. But for now, every unit that finished training clamored for assignments of Jedi Generals and Commanders.
It was a privilege to be picked amongst the thousand others that waited for their chance, and he and his Legion would not waste it.
His eyes flicked up to the shuttle that appeared from the unending rain and thunderclouds that made up Kamino, the stark red and white coloring made his heart race in anticipation. He briefly thought his armor had a smudge or smear of grease on it somewhere, diluting the bright yellow paint he had applied to his armor just for the occasion, and his anxiety spiked. Looking improper when meeting their Jedi General for the first time was a terrible first impression, and he was loathe to look improper. A static blip from one of the flanking majors caught his attention.
"Gar're jate, ner vod."
He calmed down after the words of affirmation. His second, a Major named Asher, was always calm and collected, a close confidant, and his batchmate. He was the voice of reason when he became irrationally stubborn when his carefully thought out plans went awry, his foil in a near literal sense. They had been through years upon years of training side by side, and yet he was selected to lead the Legion over Asher, which the Major was quick to assure him he held no jealousy or anger for being passed over for promotion.
He sent a blip of static to his second in thanks, and returned his attention to the shuttle, which was making its landing, landing gear extending and touching down on the steel gray landing pad.
The ramp lowered, and out stepped his Jedi General.
The Jetii was of average height, their head bare save for the topknot at the top, raven black hair bound by a dark brown leather strap. The robes that were of signature to the Jedi Order intermingled with white plastoid armor plates, grieves, vambraces, pauldrons and gauntlets glaring against the light brown of his cloak. An air of calm, almost forced serenity surrounded the General, their cobalt blue eyes flickering from trooper to trooper until resting upon him, the soldier at the fore of his mighty Legion.
The Jetii walked towards him, each step was full of grace, yet tinged with nervousness.
He would snort if the occasion didn't demand his full attention and discipline. If only the Jedi knew how nervous he and his men were.
The General stopped a few feet in front of him, eyes studying him, full of questions and curiosity. Then he suddenly blinked, as if remembering why he was here, and introduced himself.
"My name is Centulis Cadon, Knight of the Jedi Order. It is good to make your acquaintance Commander…?" he trailed off in question.
"CC-1139, sir."
The Jetii looked somewhat uncomfortable with the fact that his identification number was used instead of an actual name, something he had been made aware of in his leadership courses pertaining to interacting with nat-borns; they preferred names to numbers, so he decided to make things easier for his General.
"I also go by Commander Irons if you would prefer, sir."
"Commander Irons," the General said, trying out the name, associating the image before him with the word, then nodding in confirmation. "Yes, well, it is best we get under way. With my arrival comes new orders. We are to depart for the planet Gyndine and wrestle it, and the nearby planets from Separatist Control."
He couldn't believe it. He simply couldn't believe it. A Jedi General and orders to the front all in one day. He almost thought he was dreaming, but the expectant look from his General shook him from his thoughts, and he gave the order to embark upon the Acclamator, the troopers shifting and turning with pinpoint precision, not one was out of step. He beamed with pride behind his helmet, and he knew his officers were doing the same.
It was the perfect day, their one and only, for the rest of the war.