Never Fight a Ground War...
Hossin Swamplands, New Cyrene, High Seas System, July 12, 2193
A Krogan soldier entered the troop's quarters and looked side to side to see if anyone else was present. When he found that he was alone, he sat down on a bed and activated his omnitool.
"VI, start recording." The Krogan spoke.
"Recording started." His omnitool replied.
"Captain Aznabar Charr, 23rd Shocktrooper Company journal." The Krogan spoke to the recording. "It's been over standard galactic month since we dropped down into this alien maw hole. The Humans dug their boots in the muck and challenged us to come down, and so we did. We soldiers here on LZ Barakh have gotten the worst of it, under constant attack by both the Humans, wildlife, and whatever flesh-eating diseases lived in the putrid water. Without the Tomkahs to provide armor support, infantry are left open to ambushes without the firepower to smoke the enemy out. The thick forest canopy makes it difficult to call in accurate air strikes. We've found out the hard way that this, in conjunction with the Human's communication disruption, made it dangerous for us to call in a CAS attack. 6th Company had to learn that the hard way... they're still finding pieces of the dead more than a week since it happened."
Charr took a deep breath before continuing.
"Progress in this sector has been slow and bloody. The Humans fighting us, these Sons of Mars as they call themselves, must have been planning for this whole campaign for a long time because that is the only logical explanation as to how a numerically and technologically inferior foe have been able to bleed our forces so much. Our technology is for naught in this cursed swampland. The trees block out aerial and orbital reconnaissance. Air transports are at a constant risk of being shot down by Human infantry armed with portable missile launchers. Our thermals were supposed to be state of the art, but the Humans have managed to circumvent that by slathering their armor with the cold swamp mud of this hell hole. While we push against the enemy's conventional defenses, dozens upon dozens of them slither around the mud and hit us from behind. They attack our supply lines, cripple our men, then plant landmines around the wounded to cause further damage to anyone who tried to rescue these victims. It's brutal and barbaric, without even lick of honor in it... but it is effective."
Charr reflected on his words for a moment before he spoke again.
"Perhaps that is why our morale has been wavering. We have been too accustomed to fighting the Turians, who for all their trickery, still had the temerity to shoot us in the front." Charr said, shaking his head at the thought. "For what it was worth, both Krogan and Turian fought with honor, with dignity. Even the Salarians and the Asari could appreciate that. Humans don't seem to appreciate this... at least, not the one's we're dealing with right now. The ones we fight here seem to be the kind of people that are willing to achieve victory no matter if they have to tarnish their own names. The Humans fight without honor, and it's working. That, more than anything else is driving our soldiers into insanity."
A pair of Krogans barged into the room, rowdily conversing with each other. They stopped when they noticed Charr speaking to his omnitool.
"Charr! Recording poetry for your wife again?" One of the Krogans jabbed as the other laughed.
Charr shook his head, these two were clearly drunk.
"It's not my fault you can't appreciate fine literature, Crom." Charr jabbed back, ending his journal recording.
Half of what he recorded in his voice journals could be misconstrued as defeatist talk. Morale was bad as it was, and high command didn't want anything souring the mood further. Hurting morale was an offense that could get someone thrown into the brig. Despite this, Charr still felt compelled to continue working on his journal. He considered himself to be a scholar and he felt that it was his duty to record as much as he possibly could about the war. In his 29 years of service, he had accrued hundreds, maybe thousands of hours worth recordings which he stored with his wife, Ereba, in the Citadel. One day, he will compile all of these recordings and publish them. For now, he is stuck fighting in this muddy hellhole.
"How was patrols?" Charr asked now, shifting the subject from his recordings to the war itself.
"It was varrenshit!" Crom spat out. "The heavy rain this morning made the mud even worse. The magnetic landmines the Humans use were harder to detect, we lost three Tomkahs before the storm clouds even dispersed."
"Rrrh... not good." Charr shook his head again. "We've been stuck here for a month and the Fleetmaster hasn't deemed it fit to deploy priority reinforcements here."
"Those pyjaks in the navy see the reports, but not the reality." Crom angrily replied, his drunken demeanor spilling out his frustrations. "They've been funneling more and more troops to LZ Cabal to try and draw enemy reinforcements from coming here, but that doesn't solve the problem that the enemy are already here!"
"Aye, those shiplovers only work with numbers." Charr joined his friend in voicing his frustrations. "If you've seen how it works in a cruiser's CIC, you'd be surprised that they can hit anything at all."
Crom and the other Krogan laughed out loud at that, before silencing themselves when a Battlemaster entered the room. It would seem that the other Krogans were returning from the mess hall. Charr and the other two nodded to each other. They stowed away the current conversation for another time. No point in getting thrown to the brig for badmouthing the navy.
Charr prepared his bed and rested on it. His company had patrol duty, and weather forecasts said that there were to be hard rains coming tonight. If what Crom said was even half true, he would need all the rest he could get.
-000-
Meanwhile, in Yinshi Valley National Park...
Dareon's eyes shot open as he woke up to the sound of explosions.
The Salarian engineer looked around himself as he found himself on his back in an unfamiliar location. He could see that he was laid down near a tree, his comrades were in defensive positions firing away into the darkness, and there was a burning wreck of a Tomkah and a dropship nearby...
Adrenaline shot through his veins as Dareon put together what had happened. An air transport had been shot down by Human infantry with portable AA missiles. An armored convoy was dispatched to the wreck as a distress signal was detected coming from the crash site. They should have known better than to move in so brashly, as the Humans had invaded the crash site first and turned it into a trap.
Dareon scrambled as he clumsily flipped himself over and looked for his gun. He found an Argus Carbine laid haphazardly on the ground and grabbed it for himself. He threw himself into one of the hastily erected cover built in a perimeter around the burning wrecks.
"Welcome back to the land of the living!" A Krogan greeted.
"How long was I out?"
"At least an hour, maybe two." The Krogan answered again. "It's hard to tell."
A rocket shot by the Humans from one of the rocky towers surrounding them. The projectile streamed towards their general direction before slamming into the burning wreck behind them.
"Please tell me we have an exit strategy!" Dareon asked again.
"A company of shocktroopers with armored support are coming in to blow a hole in their lines." The Krogan explained. "We'll use the opening to evacuate and get back to friendly lines."
"How long will that take?"
"Haven't got a clue!"
Dareon cursed under his breath and said nothing more. He peeked out of cover slightly, but ducked right back into cover when a bullet whizzed past his helmet. The Salarian engineer fired off a few shots blindly towards the general direction of the enemy before returning into cover. He cursed a bit more before he hugged his carbine and settled into a more comfortable position on the ground.
He was going to be stuck here for a while.
-000-
Calibani Mountains, a few hours later...
Weiss and her spotter, Walter, laid under their camouflage cloaks and observed enemy positions. Up here in the Calibani mountains, it was easy to hide... if you were brave enough to scale sheer cliffs. Weiss and Walter had positioned themselves on a ledge facing the enemy's FOB.
"Looks like lots of heavy infantry, a motor pool... an airbase... Jesus H. Christ, that looks like Fort Hoffnung down there." Weiss hissed out.
She was looking through the optics of her rifle, taking mental notes of the FOB as she surveyed it.
"Damn, these guys work fast." Walter added, looking through his more powerful spotter optics, which came with a built in camera. He snapped away, taking as many pictures of as many things as he could. He would let the lads at Intelligence to deal with sorting it all out.
"Woah, look at that monster over there... look at the size of it!" Weiss then called. "Over the left side of the base, by the motor pool in that hangar they carved into the side of the mountain."
Walter turned his scope on its mount towards the left and on to the general direction of what Weiss was referring to. When he saw what she meant, he zoomed in for better focus and snapped away with the built in camera.
"Aw hell." He cussed. "How the hell did they bring that monster down here? It doesn't look like it fits in any of their transports."
And it was a monster, a massive machine and much larger than any armored vehicle the Alliance had. It looked like something out of an old World War 2 documentary Weiss watched way back when she was a kid, like the massive Ratte Landship the Nazis prototyped but never built.
"They must have brought it to the surface in parts and put it together like a damn Lego set in that hangar."
"Hell, the ground pounders are going to want to know about this." Walter said again. "We'll have to break silence and have this wired through to the 501st's regional command. Let's pack our shit and relocate, we need to get in range of the network before we can transmit these."
-000-
Archive Update:
Excerpt from The Krogan Strategic Handbook written by the Federal Command Committee, published 1994 by Tuchanka Federal Printing Company.
Page 56, on Planetary Invasions
"It is therefor imperative, during the course of an invasion operation, for Federal Army forces to establish a secure foothold planetside. Without a central nexus for troops to operate from, an organized effort cannot be achieved. Orbital naval support must not serve as a crutch during operations and invading forces must strive to fight without necessarily requiring it so that in the event where naval support is cut off, troops can continue operations with as little loss of force as possible. Federal forces must be able to operate as effectively without air superiority, as they do with air superiority."
Page 68, on Planetary Defense
"Even if Federation held territory is under attack, the enemy must not be allowed to hold the initiative, lest they decide the terms of battle. As such, defending troops must, if the opportunity arises, draw enemy forces into engagements with terms favorable to Federal and any allied force. Federal Army forces should never allow the enemy to consolidate a hold on the planet as a beachhead, and thus must attack, attack, and attack to keep the enemy from securing territory. Failure to repel landing attempts will only lead to prolonged engagements on Federal or allied territory, which may cause damage to Federal or allied war efforts. In the event that the enemy cannot be repelled, Federal forces must endeavor to deny the enemy any chance to launch their own offensive by continually attacking their positions and forcing the enemy to hold their ground. By containing the enemy forces to select locations, reinforcements can be concentrated on important enemy positions instead of spreading out to halt a wide advance."
-000-
A/N:
Midterm exams starting on monday, wish me luck.
Was debating releasing this after exams, but figured this was enough for this update right now.
PM or write your thoughts on a review, if you want to.
Thanks for reading, good luck and Godspeed to you all.