"All batteries, relocate to sector 17 and reestablish contact with observers for further fire missions. Commander Irons out!"
As the connection was cut and the artillery batteries of the legion moved to their designated positions, Irons returned his attention to the battlefield, a messy, churned up expanse of craters and furrows, with the immolated hulls of hover tanks dotted across the field. The initial droid advance had been halted, but there were simply too many to hold back for any lengthy period of time. No matter how many company's worth of droids they turn to slag and scrap metal, more would replace them, an endless horde of war machines that neither flagged nor faltered. No amount of casualties would force them to retreat unless ordered to, and they were inexorable in their advance, a tide of durasteel and deadly plasma.
His men, his troopers, the best soldiers in the galaxy, for all their strengths and superiority, were flesh, blood and bone, and could tire, flag and falter in their strength and resolve, and it was his mission to mitigate the risk of an all out rout or defeat. Victory, at first a high hope, was slowly whittled into a faint, distant possibility, and would only become more so the longer his general was away from the battlefield. It would be a decisive blow, the likes of one that would cause a nearly instant win in the battle, if the general and the company assigned to him attacked the droid army from the rear. But, until that became a reality, he would have to hold out with his legion, and the circumstances were becoming more dire as the battle raged.
He moved further down the line, shouting encouragement to his men to keep fighting, that relief will come soon, even if he didn't know exactly when or if it was coming at all, but appearances were key to maintaining morale, so he put on a mask of confidence and assurity, and raised the spirits of his troopers.
"Walker platoon 5, shift your fire to sector 7, enemy armor elements are target priority, infantry elements secondary!"
His mind was stretched, it was a constant running battle to direct his legion, despite his XO helping him. It felt as if he was being pulled in a hundred different directions at once, and each and every situation was equally important to the survival of the legion. If he survived this battle, he needed a strong drink and a dark, quiet place to curl up in just so he could listen to his own thoughts and just exist.
"Down! Drop or you're dead!"
That tone was one that all soldiers knew, and knew well. You either complied, or you died on the spot, and so he did, dropping himself in the trench without a moment to lose. Harsh, jarring impacts sprayed dirt all across those in the trench as they were subject to a volley from an enemy armor platoon, the hover tanks providing a fire screen for a couple of droid companies to move up.
He was about to order one of the nearby heavy weapons platoons to direct their anti-armor weapons onto the hover tanks when the barrage suddenly stopped, and soon a cheer spread throughout the comm channels and the trenches, and he peeked over the top of the trench to see what was causing such a reaction, and he joined in despite himself at what he saw.
Four tanks were systematically cut to pieces by a blue lightsaber, the wielder darting from tank to tank akin to lightning. The droid crews tried to respond to the threat as best as their programming allowed, but ultimately met the same end as their tanks did, slashed apart and reduced to molten slag. The droid companies the hover tanks were providing screening fire for met the same fate, reduced to scrap and slag, numbers irrelevant when compared to the force of nature that a Jedi was.
His jubilation at the arrival of the general was cut short when he noticed no one else with him. No stark white armor running across the field, and that filled him with dread. It couldn't be, it just couldn't. There was no way another company was wiped out, with a Jedi attached no less! It shouldn't happen, and yet as the general sped across the battlefield, taking out targets of interest as they went, there was no sign of the 144 troopers that had followed him. A pang of grief, of disbelief and, to his own worst fears, acceptance shot through him. The stories were true, he thought, of Jedi getting his brothers killed, unnecessarily and in mass quantities. A small part of him hoped that the general would have some form of explanation for the missing troopers, something so serious and demanding for an entire company to die in order to surmount. But, his explanation would have to wait, as the battle still raged, and he heard the beeps of an incoming comm. He pushed his feelings aside and answered.
"Irons here, give me a sitrep, over."
"Commander, all batteries have relocated to sector 17, and are ready for further fire missions, over."
"Solid copy on all. Expect a new fire mission within the next few minutes. Irons out."
He soon contacted the observers and ordered the fire mission. It was a quick one, only five rounds each, for the battle was swinging their way dramatically now that there was a Jedi on the field, and with that addition came a new sense of caution, for now they had to watch their fields of fire incase the general decided that a particular area of the battlefield required his unique talents. Some captains and lieutenants expressed frustration at having to order their men to cease fire when the general charged into their sector and started to cleave apart droid after droid in an unceasing wave of carnage. It was a fine display, none of them could deny, but they wished that the general would stick to one sector of the battlefield so that the rest of them could do their jobs.
He walked along a trench line occupied by the 13th Company, the white plastoid marred with muddy streaks and scratches from stray shrapnel. As he moved into the trench, the general decided to enter the company's sector of fire, laying into the droids with gusto. The captain of the company ordered his men to cease fire.
"Di'kutla jetii! He's going to get himself killed if he keeps doing that!" the lieutenant grumbled.
"Is that disrespect I hear, lieutenant?" Irons asked, making both the captain and lieutenant visibly jump.
"Ossik! Oh Manda, Commander, you nearly gave us a heart attack!" the captain said.
"Oh, poor situational awareness too. Is the 13th company flagging in its standards?" he said in a teasing manner.
The captain responded with rapidity to the statement. "No sir! Just the first battle jitters is all! The 13th Company meets and exceeds legion standards, sir."
"Is that so? Well then, it won't be an issue then to watch for our general on the battlefield as he turns the tide, will it?"
This time both responded with enthusiasm. "Sir, no sir!"
Irons nodded at their energy. "Good, now watch the line and open up on those tin cans the moment the general is out of the line of fire. The battle is not over yet, let's hope the general leaves some for the rest of us."
The last statement sent a ripple of chuckles and snorts of mirth throughout the nearby troopers, and they resumed their positions as Irons moved down the line, smirking in dark satisfaction as he saw an AT-TE fire its main gun at an approaching hover tank, punching a hole through the hull, directly through the driver's cockpit. The war machine tilted down as it continued forwards, the prow of the vehicle reaching the ground and digging a deep furrow into the soil. It soon caught on something buried in the soil and it began to flip over, the machine crashing into the dirt, crushing the turret, the gunner and command droid all at once under its sheer weight. A follow up shot immolated the vehicle in an explosion of plasma and smoke, shrapnel ripping into the nearby droid companies, tearing droids to shreds.
He would have to get the gunner of the walker a medal for that display, but the battle needed his attention, and he resumed the task of directing an entire legion against the droid army, and thankfully with the arrival of his general, things were a bit easier, not as many vectors of attack to watch for when the enemy in that vector was slashed to bits. It was easier to such an extent that he felt confident in leaving things to his subordinates to contact Asher. There was a Jedi running about on the battlefield, after all, and everyone needed to be aware of that fact. It was an excuse to speak to his closest brother, he knew it, but it worked for him, and that was enough.
"Major, you see what I'm seeing?"
A moment of silence passed over the comm channel before his brother answered. "If you mean the literal whirlwind of destruction that is our general on the field, then yeah, I'm seeing what you're seeing."
Irons snorted in amusement. "Well, he's developed this little habit of wandering into multiple sectors of fire, so make sure that the companies near you are made aware of that. Don't want to shoot our general in the back on our first battle, right?"
"Oh, what a tragedy that would be," Asher remarked, chuckling at his own sarcasm. "Where's the company that was sent with him? They're supposed to be with him after they disabled the power generators."
A poignant silence soon followed, the light mood flipping like a light switch into something darker, heavier, the lump in his throat made speaking to his brother suddenly extremely difficult.
"We don't know," he managed.
"Ah, fierfek. You're going to ask the general about it when this is all over," Asher said. It wasn't a question, both of them knew it.
"Yes. I need answers, and he's the best place to get them from."
"Want me there with you?"
"I would like that, yes."
"Alright, let me know when and I'll make my way to you, ok?"
"Will do, Irons out."
The comm channel was severed, leaving Irons alone with his thoughts, dark things of anger, grief and self blame. He would deal with them later, preferably with either a strong drink in hand or with his brother by his side, but the men, his legion, needed him now, and he resolved to end this battle as quickly as possible.
He opened a legion wide comm channel. "This is Irons to all 46th Legion elements within the area of operation. Increase offensive operations into enemy lines. Enemy command units are target priority. If any tactical droids are sighted, report them immediately to your direct superior and attempt wherever possible to capture or destroy them. The time is now to press our advantage. The general is here, and with him, we can roll over these tin cans and press onto the city. Irons out."
Over the next two hours, the fighting intensified, with the battle lines shifting back and forth rapidly, faster than most would think possible. Platoons of clones, and at times a few squads, would locate droid command units, isolate them and rip them apart with blaster fire, withdrawing to friendly trenches, taking casualties along the way, but the benefits were well worth the cost. The droids were becoming more and more disunified, their cohesion and coordination decreasing with every command droid scrapped. The addition of a jedi on the battlefield didn't help the droid army's situation in the slightest, with said jedi carving a bloody path through the droid forces, creating large gaps in the enemy lines that were becoming increasingly harder to fill as the battle dragged on.
Iron's noticed this, and after observing his general cleave his way through a droid battlegroup single handedly, he had an idea. There was a small window of time in between the instance where the general ripped through a section of the enemy lines, and when the hole was filled with armor and droid platoons. At first, it only took thirty seconds before the gap was filled. There were enough spare droids in the enemy formation that redistributing forces didn't take away from overall strength, but as the battle raged on, it was becoming harder and harder to plug the holes and maintain the assault on the legion's position. Now, there was a twenty minute gap in between those two instances, and as good as the general was, the battle needed to be won swiftly and decisively if they were to have the strength to take the city in a timely fashion.
In sector 3, there was a large gap in the enemy lines, and there were two full strength walker platoons and three full strength infantry companies nearby with no immediate orders. The idea was a bold one, a risky one, and if he failed, he doubted that the battle would be a victory, and more of a stalemate, something this early in the campaign that couldn't happen, or the offensive into separatist space would stall out and the republic would suffer as a result. But he had to try.
He raced back towards his command walker, dodging explosions and stray blaster fire as he went, and moved to put his plan into action.
24th Armored Platoon
Captain Gett'se was a soldier who was not afraid to take risks. It was how he got his name, after all, and he wouldn't shy away from any task his commanders would assign him, no matter the danger. He was always the first one in on any simulation or training exercise, leading from the front and inspiring his men into greater feats of valor and martial skill. Doing so in controlled situations was one thing, doing so on the actual battlefield is another. What was being asked of him was, in all reality, a daunting task.
He was to lead his platoon, in conjunction with another platoon and three infantry companies in a charge into enemy lines to exploit a weak point, and if he were to succeed, the separatists would be folded up and broken piecemeal, and they would move on to secure the city and the supply depot, and then it was straight to the capitol. If he failed, however, there would be a sizable gap in the 46th Legion's front line, the assault would stall out, the campaign would be behind schedule, and it would all be his fault. If he lived long enough to see his failure realized.
It felt like a large, heavy boulder was placed upon his shoulders, and he was ordered to climb a steep hill without dropping it. Extremely difficult, time consuming, and exhausting, but not impossible, and he would answer this calling with aplomb.
"All walkers, walker lead formation, advance on my command. We'll cover the ground pounders as we move up. Mark and engage targets as you advance. Cover your sectors."
Soon the walkers moved into a wedge formation, with Gett'se's walker at the van of the assault, next to the other walker platoon, and when the affirmations from the other platoon and the infantry companies were received on their readiness, the formations moved forward at a steady pace, the walkers going slow enough for the infantry to keep up, and so that the walkers are protected from enemy action that the armaments of the walker can't defeat or reach.
Gett'se kept his head on a swivel as his walker plodded along, making sure to avoid any divots and particularly deep craters as the formation advanced. Stray blaster bolts and cannon rounds streaked across the battlefield, every now and then splattering against the thick armor plating of the walkers, merely scratching the paint on some, and leaving singing scorch marks on others, but they moved forward relentlessly, pushing deeper into the gap in the enemy lines.
A noise across the local comm channels picked up by his helmet drew his attention, and he listened in. It was his spotter and gunner.
"Designate! Gunner, SABOT, TANK!"
"Identified!"
"Fire, fire and adjust!"
"On the way!"
The recoil of the cannon made the walker sway slightly, forcing Gett'se to adjust to keep the platform for the gunner steady. He looked towards where the spotter had said was a target, and he was glad he did, for a vibrant explosion of colors and blazing hot plasma engulfed an AAT, a geyser of flame shooting out of the hole punched into hull of the hover tank, with the secondary explosion from a second round sending the turret careening off into the battlefield.
"Target, cease fire!"
This repeated itself over the next few minutes across both walker platoons, with the only variation being the direction in which the enemy armor presented itself. He had to angle the walker a few times so that the return fire of the droids at best glanced the armor, but the few times the walker got hit head on, it rocked everyone around each time. He was glad for the thick armor of his walker, and was glad for the crew, for they made each hover tank that scored a hit pay for it tenfold.
The first casualty was from his platoon, the walker on the left hand side of the formation, farthest from the lead walker. Its front leg was hit by a lucky tank round mid-stride, sending it crashing to the ground, the front of the walker digging a deep furrow in the soft soil, crushing the pilot underneath tons of metal and plasteel. The gunner was flung from his seat, breaking his neck upon contact with the ground. A follow up shot immolated the walker in a disheartening explosion. All remaining walkers focused their fire on the AAT responsible, and turned the hover tank into a literal fireball of destruction, the vengeance of the platoon barely satisfied with the impressive display. Gett'se understood that, and understood the vulnerabilities that can lead to in battle, and made sure to reign in his men's desire to turn the foe to slag, and focused their fury on the mission at hand. Many more hover tanks were turned to burning hulks of scrap metal upon the battlefield as they tried to halt their advance.
They were nearing the point in the battle plan where the platoons and infantry companies were to split up and assault the left and right rear lines, starting the process of folding up the droids and allowing the legion to push onwards. As Gett'se was about to relay the orders to the other platoon and selected infantry companies, he noticed something to his left, far in the distance. He re-oriented the walker so that it faced what he was seeing, and he squinted, the helmet amplifying his range of vision, the anomalous shapes in the distance slowly taking form, and what he saw stunned him.
A large force of thirty hover tanks was charging towards their position, and they were not in a formation to withstand such an assault without complete annihilation, so he moved quickly. He ordered his platoon into defensive positions, having them angle the armor to provide the most protection, both for the crew and the infantry companies below them. He contacted the other platoon commander and relayed the situation, with the other platoon commander moving to do the same as he did. The infantry were told to dig in and ready any and all available AT weaponry at their disposal.
It was a fight to determine the fate of the campaign, and it was to be a bloody one.