Works been ass lately with postings, pardon the long wait. I've got a new laptop on the way which should help with progress. Hope everyone's doing good and staying healthy. Also goddamn some of you old cats coming back to PM me after years, yeah I still remember you and you make me feel kinda old lol.
The Battle of Alnus Hill
"The Marines have landed and have the situation well in hand."
Attributed to many sources and popularized by the correspondent Richard Harding Davis during the late nineteenth-century
TOKYO JAPAN 1300 HOURS
After the explosion, Count Formal's world had turned to darkness and nothing more. The pain stopped and he ceased to interact with the world beyond. It was a time unmeasurable and throughout this period, all sorts of dreams and hallucinations came to haunt the count. Punishment for his failure? Old memories? The count's wavering conscience couldn't tell. Then, one day, he saw the light. Perhaps this was where his soul would finally find its resting place.
Which one it was, he couldn't be sure. Dying in a different world meant there was no way his soul could return to his ancestors back home. So, where was he?
White. Everything was so... white. The pain and fatigue in his muscles were gone, replaced by the softest fabrics he had ever felt. The smell was different, almost medicinal, and it had a sweet aroma that accompanied it.
If this was a foreign afterlife, perhaps dying wasn't so bad after all. At least Hardy or Emroy didn't have his soul, which, of course, begged the question one more time: just where was he? And what was the strange noise that kept chirping beside him? The strange language being spoken around him? Or more importantly, why couldn't he move?
That was when the count found the strength to finally open his eyes and find the answers to his questions.
The reason he couldn't move was because he was strapped down to some sort of bed and buried under thick, soft blankets. The reason he couldn't feel any pain was because a strange tubelike device was embedded in his arm. That, and, much to his rising dismay, he no longer felt anything in his now missing right leg. The man would've reacted more were it not for the something in his veins that was keeping him calm. Drugs perhaps? The apothecaries and healers in Falmart talked of such things, but Formal had never been privy to it. A good healer was a luxury afforded only to the rich after all. Wealthy as he was even he couldn't afford services of that magnitude.
Men and women walked around Formal's bed dressed in strange white garb and chattered in the same language he had heard before during the invasion. Everything from the beds, some of which had Formal's comrades on, to the furniture all had a white sheen to it.
That was when Formal put the pieces together, he wasn't dead. No, he had been captured by the enemy and was being nursed back to health in some sort of valetudinarium.
"Oh good, you're finally awake."
A voice in his native tongue snapped Formal out of his trance and he looked over to the left side of his bed. There, sitting on some sort of leather chair, was a middle-aged man wearing a strange black and white outfit. They were no robes, but rather sharp angular fabrics with a black coat over a white shirt.
The man folded his hands in his lap and smiled, noticing the confused look on Formal's face. "Count Formal was it? No, this is no dream and yes I can speak your language. Though I'm still learning. Remarkably easy language to learn if not fascinating in its usage of symbology."
Formal coughed and raised an eyebrow. "W-who are you? And where am I?"
"Hmmm, how do I answer that." The man rubbed his salt and pepper beard. "I guess you could say I'm from an important Intelligen-Intellel-ee-gent gatherer order." The man paused as he tried to find his words. "I do apologize if I'm making a mess of your language. I'm still learning after all." The man's smile returned. "You can call me Heideigger, Age-ent Heideigger."
Formal had never heard such a strange name and before he could ponder on it further, something caught his attention. At the far side of the room and atop some wooden table, a strange box displayed images. Formal couldn't make heads or tails of the language, but the images were quite clear.
The military force that had eradicated his own was going through the Gate. They were invading Falmart just as he knew they would. Formal's heart rate jumped, and with it, the strange chirping he had heard earlier.
"Myui.."
"Oh, yes. Quite the nasty mess your military started, invading Japan and slaughtering innocent people and whatnot." Heidegger shook his head. "Probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. It's not like we're against talking like civilized people."
Japan, so that's where Formal was. What a fascinating name, Formal thought to himself.
Heidegger put his hand on Formal's shoulder and shook his head at some people that heard the chirping near Formal's bed. Convinced everything was alright, they walked away.
"But you and I are civilized, aren't we, good Count? We can chat. I heard from some of your men that you didn't partake in the atrocities. That bodes well for you, but not so much for the rest of your people." Heideigger sighed. "Gonna be quite a lot of destruction on the other side, I do hope your daughter doesn't get caught up in all of that."
"My daughter? What do you know of her?" Formal responded weakly as his breathing quickened.
"Well we found this not far from where you were hit. Seemed a shame to leave it there." Heideigger reached into a pocket on his shirt and pulled out a locket with Myui's picture in it. The man dangled it in front of the count before putting it on his bedsheets.
"You can stop what's coming Count, you can keep her safe. All you need to do is cooperate and we'll see you home in no time."
"My daughter will be safe? My home and land, secured?" Formal looked at the locket then back at Heidegger. "You can promise me this?"
"Quite so, you're talking to an agent of one of the most powerful intelligent orders that exists. Of an even more powerful country." Heidegger pointed at the box with moving pictures. "The same one that's invading your home as we speak."
Formal looked at the box then back at Heidegger, his decision already made. "I will cooperate with you, if you can answer my questions and fulfill your promise."
"Of course." Heidegger nodded. "My order always keeps to its word."
Formal adjusted himself and tried to sit upright, a sharp pain in his skull gave him pause however and the count winced.
"Easy there, good Count. You're already lucky to be alive, let alone awake, after so long. You should be thankful Japanese medical practices are so good. Even more thankful their soldiers had enough decency to provide first aid. It seems a lust for revenge cannot override basic human rights."
Formal laid back against his pillows and breathed slowly. "S-so what do you wish to know? I can tell you what little I remember."
Heidegger scooched his chair closer before taking a small piece of parchment and a strange black box out of his coat. He clicked something on the box and set it down next to Formal's bed.
"Everything, Count. Everything."
SPECIAL REGION, TIME UNKNOWN
Kincaid watched as the last thermal silhouette broke into a full-on sprint towards the enemy encampments beyond. He brought his bright red reticle over the man's back.
"Got a runner. You want me to ice him?"
"Nah, leave him. Let him warn his buddies. We don't shoot retreating hostiles."
Kincaid flipped the switch back and shrugged. "Well, you only prolonged his death. If we don't get him now, we sure as fuck will when the shooting starts again."
Elton leaned back in his chair. "That's on him, not us. I'm keeping my karma clean."
Once Aldritch gave the order to attack, everything went into slow motion. Fear and hesitation were replaced by training as the Marines and their tanks propelled into the new world. This was what Marines did: fight in any clime and place. Only when the last body hit the floor did anyone stop to process what had just happened.
Now the four tanks and their recovery vehicle sat in front of the Gate with nothing but sloping plains as far as the eye could see. It was still dark, but the orange and blue in the sky indicated that dawn was fast approaching. Not that visibility mattered to them, but the same couldn't be said of the now very much awake enemy encampment in the distance.
"All tanks, this is One Actual. Status report."
"One, this is Four. Destroyed multiple sets of troops and, uh, one of those ogre things. All systems are still green but my BFT* and self pos* are still acting up."
"One, this is Two. We're set and tracking the enemy position ahead. looks like a battalion—no, division-sized element. We're having similar issues with our gear as well."
"One, this is Three. Green to green, but experiencing similar issues as the others."
"All tanks, this is One Actual; good copies on all. All tanks disperse and form a line, standby for further orders. Mike 88, I need you to pull back and wait for the rest of the convoy."
"Mike 88 copies." To the rear of the tanks, the M88's turbo diesel roared as the heavy vehicle pushed through the debris and broken bodies, its destination lying to the side of the Gate's exit.
"Roger, One Actual out."
"Okay, everyone good?!" A still slightly shaken Elton reached down from his station and gave Kincaid a few reassuring slaps on the back. "Kincaid, your shit still good to go?"
"Yeah, solid. Still can't get a fuckin' self pos though. You?" Kincaid responded with a thumbs up, his eyes still glued to his gunsights.
"Good to go, I think." Elton looked over at Wilkes and raised an eyebrow. "Loader?"
Wilkes merely nodded silently. With no main gun to load and both hatches buttoned up, the loader was out of a job and blind to what was going on outside. If there was one thing Wilkes hated the most, it was riding shotgun with nothing to do.
Kincaid lowered his balaclava slightly and coughed at the stench of gunpowder filling the turret. With no open hatches to vent the air out and climate control not existing in the tank's design, the vehicle was fast becoming a hot box. "Yo George, you good?"
No response, Kincaid looked down at the driver's compartment and gave the turret basket a series of kicks. "Hey, hey you good man?!"
"S-si. I'm good hermano."
"You don't sound like it. Should be a little more excited considering you just got your combat cherry popped." Elton frowned and gave his still disrupted BFT screen a couple of corrective thumps. No luck. Without a satellite to communicate with, the device simply didn't work. "Don't be getting cold feet on me man. Just remember, these assholes didn't show any mercy in Japan."
Benitez looked through his DVE* and at the broken bodies in front of the front slope. Even through the device's murky black and white thermals, Benitez could clearly see the damage he had helped inflict. "I'm fine, seriously. This is all just, a lot to take in-"
"We'll talk about it later brother, killing's not done yet." Kincaid squinted through his sights as he traversed the gun in wide sweeping arcs. Each pass was accompanied by the buzz of grinding gears as hydraulics went to work powering the turret.
"Got some activity. Looks like the neighborhood is waking up." Kincaid slowed his traversal and changed the sight magnification a few times on his instrument panel. With the tank's powerful optics, he could easily discern the enemy soldiers in the darkness and flat plains beyond. The soldiers yelled at each other in a panic as they tried to wake the camp and their auxiliaries. It was complete chaos, and the varying levels of readiness displayed indicated that the enemy wasn't fully prepared for an all-out attack.
"Dude… that's a lot of bad guys. A LOT of bad guys."
Elton looked through his own sight and at everything Kincaid was relaying back up to him. "Yeah, I fuckin' see em'. Loader, MPHE*, now."
"Way ahead of you, boss man!"
Wilkes dropped down to the turret floor and depressed a knee switch behind him, an armored door hissing open to reveal a multitude of different 120mm shells. Nimble hands found the desired round, whipping around and punching it into the breech's hungry maw. Once the breech clacked shut, Wilkes reached over to the left of the gun and flipped the safe/arm handle to the safe position.
"Up!"
Aldritch came over the radio again.
"Palace Six, this is Horseman One. Engaged and destroyed multiple sets of troops and auxiliaries. Be advised, it looks like there's some sort of staging area a couple klicks away from us. We have eyes on, break—"
In his tank, Aldritch paused as he squinted through his sights and tried to make sense of the freakshow assembling itself in front of his platoon. "—Auxiliaries both armored and airborne. Definitely division level strength, over."
There was a brief tension-filled moment of silence as the tankers awaited a reply from one of the command vehicles in the rear of the convoy.
"Horseman One, this is Palace Six. We read you, Lima Charlie. We need to destroy that staging area ASAP. They're in the predetermined zone of influence Japan wants to establish in the Special Region."
"Roger that, we'll handle it. What's the situation with support assets? Are Rhino and Shielder still good to support?"
"That's an affirm, Horseman. The plan hasn't changed."
"Copy that, starting our move now. Horseman One, out." Aldritch switched his radios over to the platoon net. "All tanks, form up on me, wedge heavy front. We need to punch out and destroy that staging area so the convoy can start coming through. TCs and gunners, prioritize targets of opportunity, but maintain your sectors of fire, dispersion, and speed. Keep enough space for the LAVs to plug gaps in the line too."
Upon receiving their orders, the tanks moved to form a broad arrow-shaped formation pointed at the enemy. The vehicles seemed to glide over the grassy terrain as their engines propelled them into position, their heavy-duty tracks chewing up anything not anchored down. Once the tanks were set, they waited for their reinforcements to arrive, a thankfully brief period of time.
"Horseman One, this is Rhino Six. We're pushing out of the Gate and have eyes on you. Coming up on your rear now."
The tank commanders and loaders opened their hatches and breathed in the new air just as the first LAVs rolled up. They were ugly, squat things, not as armed or well armored as the tanks, but just as deadly if deployed correctly. Their 25mm Bushmasters, dismounted infantry scouts, and various other organic assets were a welcome sight in such an unfamiliar place. The light armored vehicles intermixed with the tanks and rapidly began unloading troops and heavy weapons.
Useful as the LAVs were, it was the four vehicles accompanying them that Aldritch and the other Marines were truly thankful for.
LAV-ADs, the bane of any winged air assets the enemy could muster. The anti-aircraft vehicles spread out and formed a defensive line behind the armored vehicles, their 25mm gatling cannons and Stinger missile pods pointed skyward. Their arrival was perfectly timed, as winged silhouettes had already started darting above the enemy positions.
"This is Shielder 1. My vehicles are in place and ready to keep the skies clear."
Surprised by the relatively good English the Japanese vehicle commander had, Aldritch waved back at the Japanese vehicles from atop his station. "Copy, Shielder 1. Good to have you in the fight."
Aldritch reached down into his station and changed radio channels. "Rhino Six, this is Horseman One. Are your mortars set up?"
"Roger, Horseman One. Ready to hang HE. After that, we can move up with you and clear those tents, over"
"Roger, out."
The first elements of the strike force were set and their mission clear: destroy the enemy. These men and their vehicles would sound the first thunderous act of revenge in the new world beyond. This was the point of no return the moment that, from then on, nothing would ever be the same beyond the Gate.
All set into motion by a simple command.
"Execute."
XXXXXX
Once the distant echoes of screams and strange sounds hit the camps, all hell broke loose. Ogres clad themselves in ancient family gear and bellowed war chants. Wyverns and their riders were awoken from their stables and took to the skies. What precious few surviving battle mages read incantations and prepared powerful alchemy ingredients. Surely, their arcane knowledge would help seize victory. War drums and horns began to play their song, instilling courage in the men as best they could.
Impressive as it all was, there was true fear in the ranks. Many had survived the invasion through the Gate and they all knew what the enemy could muster. One of the grand dukes noticed this and took charge. Clad in the finest crimson armor, he raised his sword skyward and roared to his men.
"Move like you have a backbone! The enemy are here and their convictions are great! Steel yourselves and look to the Emperor and the gods for support! Form ranks and prepare to advance! We cannot allow this enemy to hold this hallowed ground!"
The duke paused as a strange bright glow illuminated the camp and the terrified faces of the men below. In the skies above, bright orbs of shining light cast their glows on the land. Even the mages had no answer for what the strange orbs were. Magic, perhaps?
The orbs continued to glow just as a distant voice began screaming about steel monsters coming to claim their souls. It was one of the camp guards near the Gate, bloody and covered in filth from an obviously one-sided battle.
His screams were to be the only warning anyone received right as the very earth began to erupt into explosions. Men and creatures were torn to bloody shreds as the invisible projectiles continued to pelt them. The duke that had been mustering everyone was the first to go, his armor offering no protection as he was simply blasted into pieces.
Wyverns tried to muster a counter-attack only to be shredded into chunks by strange red lines that roared into them from afar. Any that somehow dodged the red lines found themselves splattered by white ghostly trails of magic that slammed into them.
The survivor from the camp didn't come to bring a warning.
He had come to doom everyone to an inescapable fate.
XXXXXX
Kincaid and other tankers sat in their stations, mouths agape as they watched the detonations erupt within the enemy masses. Many of the Marines, including Kincaid, were no strangers to the horrors of the battlefield, many having deployed to Afghanistan and other places. What was going on here was nothing short of a one-sided slaughter.
Enemy soldiers looked to the skies and yelled as if they believed the gods themselves were hurling fury down upon them. Ruined earth and debris from tents intermixed with bodies as the bombardment continued. Meanwhile, the LAV-AD's added to the carnage as they mercilessly gunned down any wyverns above the battlespace. Fast as the creatures were, they didn't stand a chance against weapon systems designed to hit much faster targets.
"Rounds complete."
Once the bombardment finished, Aldritch dropped down into his station and changed radio channels. "Good effect on target Rhino Six! Starting our move now! All tanks, push forward!" Together, the armored juggernauts went forth.
Elton checked his .50 and gave it a reassuring rack before shouldering his shotgun. "Okay boys, that's us! Driver, move out!"
"Roger!" Benitez shifted the vehicle into drive and twisted his steering throttle controls down pushing the tank along to join its brothers. As Here We Go Again rumbled off with the other vehicles, Kincaid tapped Elton's leg. "Feeling a little wired, brother. What's good with the jukebox?"
"Way ahead of you, nigga. Nujabes coming right up!"
Wilkes reached over to his station and flipped a jury-rigged mp3 player on. Soft jazz came over the tank's internal comms and drowned out some of the chatter over the net, helping the crew focus.
As effective as the early bombardment was, the enemy was tenacious, if not fanatical. What little leadership remained attempted to rally the troops and auxiliaries. They pointed at the armored vehicles of the Marines and yelled before mounting their horses, leading the charge.
Brave, but incredibly suicidal as they soon found out.
The constant thudding of autocannon fire intermixed with the periodic thundercrack of 120mm cannons created a chorus of chaos that shattered the enemy forces. Soldiers that didn't receive the mercy of being gunned down were crushed under the treads and heavy tires of the armored vehicles as the Marines relentlessly pushed forward. Yet the enemy still fought on, so the Marines kept killing.
Kincaid brought his sights over a group of knights on horseback and grit his teeth."Identified, enemy cavalry! Range, 600 meters and closing!"
"Fire and adjust!"
"Coax on the way!"
Kincaid flipped a knob on his station causing the tank's NBC* system to kick on. The hiss of pressurized air removing harmful gasses from the turret drowned out the chatter of automatic fire as Kincaid's 240 spat red tracers towards the enemy. Armor-piercing machine gun rounds punched through the armor and shields of the knights, as if they wore only cloth. Men that weren't torn apart were sent screaming off their now terrified mounts as they were sawed through. All Kincaid could see were thermal chunks being thrown around.
Elton was about to congratulate his gunner when something caught the corner of his eye. A bright red spark snapped into existence from behind a shattered stable and hurled towards the tank.
Years of training and combat forced Elton's mind to comprehend the spark as the only natural thing it could be.
"RPG!"
Just as Elton yelled the warning over the radio, the spark collided with the front right armor array of the tank's turret. The fireball had exploded, leaving a black smudge on the turret and slightly shaking the turret interior, but no further damage. That didn't stop the crew from violently reacting all the same.
"Jesus Christ! What the fuck!?" Terrified by the sudden wave of heat and bright light, Benitez slammed on the brakes forcing the tank to jerk to a halt. The sudden shift only added to the confusion and the whole display had already caught the attention of the other vehicles and halted the advance.
"Four is hit! I repeat, Four is hit!"
"Say again? Four is hit?!"
"What? Nobody said anything about these fuckers having AT!"
"Cut the chatter and maintain your sectors of fire! Four, this is One. Status report!"
"We're good; armor's holding!" Elton gripped the top of his station and looked around the turret interior. Everything was fine, no fire, no body parts or screaming. "Everybody okay?!"
"I'm alright." Benitez shifted back into his seat and ensured his comm helmet was fastened. He looked around at the various display panels and lights before mouthing a silent prayer. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay! You guys alright up there?"
"Yeah, I'm good, bro. No problems here." From his own station, Wilkes got back up from the turret floor and gave a thumbs up. "Kincaid—"
"MOTHER FUCKER! ARM THE GUN, WILKES!" An enraged Kincaid yanked his glasses off and pointed the tank's gun towards the bastard who had thrown the fireball. An honest to God magic-throwing wizard. Kincaid had seen the oddly dressed individual waving some sort of staff around, moving between tents doing his best to not be seen by the Marines. At first, Kincaid had thought nothing of it; there was no way magic actually existed. That is until he saw the fireball and Benitez brake checked the crew.
Now Kincaid was pissed off and the wizard was going to die for it. He brought his gun sights over the spellcaster just as the man was getting ready to conjure up another fireball. Not this time.
"You find the fucker?! Kill that bitch!" Wilkes snarled and armed the gun before bracing himself against the turret wall. Elton could only do the same as he looked through his own sights and tried to find whatever had hit the tank. "On the way!"
For the first time, Here We Go Again fired her cannon in anger. The tank's recoil system absorbed a large majority of the kinetic energy only slightly rocking the vehicle back as an aft cap, all that remained of the shell, clanged to the turret floor.
Kincaid watched through his thermals with anticipation as the MPHE round whistled through the air and towards the wizard. The wizard didn't even have time to process what was heading his way when he disappeared under a massive flash of light and smoke. The splintered wood and bits of robes scattered everywhere confirmed the kill. The sheer size of the blast even managed to take out a few ogres that had tried to provide cover for the spell caster. It was in that moment that all present learned that the enemy had magic alright, but raw firepower was the clear winner here.
Satisfied, Kincaid stuck a middle finger up. "FUCK YOU! DON'T FUCK WITH ME!"
The sudden outburst from his usually calm gunner caught Benitez off guard and for a moment the driver felt terrible for brake checking his crew the way he did.
"Oh are ya feeling it Mr. Krabs?!" Wilkes laughed maniacally as he pat his gunner's back. Seeing Kincaid get angry was always a treat and the loader was quick to capitalize on it whenever he could. "Down boy, he's dead!"
"Fuck off man.." Kincaid redonned his glasses with a groan and went back to dispatching more hostiles.
Wilkes chuckled to himself as he quickly shoved another shell into the breeches hungry maw. "Don't worry Benitez, Jasper gets like this whenever his buttons get pushed. No sweat on the brake check."
"R-roger that."
With everything taken care of, Elton stood back up in his station and waved at Aldritch's tank. "One, this is Four Actual. We're good. Unsure what engaged us at this time, but we destroyed it. Time now continuing mission."
Aldritch waved back and nodded, secretly relieved his Marines were okay. "Copy that. All tanks, resume your push."
With the wizard dead and others like him quickly adding to the killcount, the enemy's morale was finally broken. Not even their strongest weapons could stop the enemy and without their leadership, they had nowhere to go but far away from whatever hell the invaders brought with them. They had not only failed to invade their enemy, but had failed even more so defending their own home. Shame was all these would be soldiers and their auxiliaries had left.
XXXXXX
Hours Later
What would come to be known as the Battle of Alnus, or the Massacre of Alnus depending on who you asked, was already over by the time Itami and his vehicle emerged from the mouth of the Gate. Though there was still work to be done, Itami and many of the other Japanese soldiers were given the luxury of being able to actually take in the new sights.
Itami stepped out of the back of the truck and took a deep breath of the foreign air. It tasted clean, air free of man's tampering. The lieutenant adjusted the strap for his rifle and looked around as he tried to get his bearings.
Everything was so green. Miles of sloping lush green fields went on for as far as the eye could see. In the distance, snow-covered mountains sat behind miles of equally green forests. All of this existed under a crystal blue sky with clouds that looked like giant cotton swabs.
"Itami, it's beautiful!" Next to Itami, Kurata had an equally stunned expression as he joined his superior in examining everything. "It really does look like something out of a fantasy light novel huh?"
"I guess, maybe if you've never traveled." A nearby Tomita chimed in with a hint of melancholy. "Still, I concede. It is quite beautiful."
Kurata chuckled and gave his comrade a pat on the back. "Well, whaddya know? I guess he goes have a heart!"
Tomita removed the offending hand and scoffed. "Don't push it, Takeo."
The three Japanese soldiers distanced themselves from all the work going on and made their way to a small hill overlooking the areas beyond. Itami took another deep breath and took out a pair of binoculars from within one of his pouches.
"Hey Kurata, get a camera…."
Itami's voice trailed off as something caught his eye, something that soured the entire experience. There, amidst the oceans of green, sat a blemish that served as a reminder for why the Japanese and Americans were in this beautiful new world.
Corpses. Miles of corpses both human and otherwise sat on piles of destroyed earth. Huge military bulldozers pushed the piles into giant pits and disturbed the swarms of vultures looking for a meal. Smoke from old fires trailed into the sky and brought with them the stench of death. Broken tents and trampled standards from a once proud army sat as a warning to those who would stand in the way of this world's invaders.
At the center of all of this, and not too far away from the Japanese soldiers, four American tanks sat in a coil alone and away from everything else. There were no celebrations for them, no grand epiphanies over the wonders of this world. Just tired Marines doing their job and trying to make sense of it all. Itami and the others could see the crews out and about near their tanks.
A motley crew that consisted of a wide variety of men from different races, they busied themselves with picking up war trophies and lounging around their dirty war machines.
"Did they do all of this?" Kurata stood next to his superior and pointed at the tanks. "It was only four tanks and they killed this many?!"
"Them and the LAVs, yes." Tomita nodded. "They are American Marines. If anything, they probably relished doing all of this. War is in their blood. They're practically indoctrinated for it."
"Oh, they can't be all that bad, Akira. You make them sound like mindless monsters! They're our allies. We should be thankful they're here with us!" Kurata shook his head. "Hey, maybe we can get a couple of photos with them? Whadya say, Itami?"
"Maybe." Itami squinted at one of the tanks and at one of the crewmembers atop it. The Marine paused from reading his manga and looked back at Itami, his free hand clutching a can of some kind. Towards the bottom of his tank, two of his mates consoled their driver and gave him a couple of pats on the back. A new Marine perhaps? He looked younger.
"Mark my words, sir. They're a bad influence. You might just catch a little of whatever they have."
Itami and the Marine continued to stare at each other until finally, the Marine waved at him.
"I'll be the judge of that, Akira. Besides, who can be that bad if they enjoy manga?" Itami waved back at the odd-looking Marine just as the tanker went back to reading his book. "Besides, a little firepower could be useful in this strange and beautiful world we find ourselves in."
Thus a new friendship was born there.
Terms/Jargon Used:
BFT-Blue Force Tracker. Basically a big GPS map that shows the location of friendly units on the network.
DVE-Drivers Visual Enhancement. You plug it in where a periscope would normally go and you get thermals to help drive at day/night.
Self POS- Self Position, basically used for azimuth and other fancy gunner shit.
MPHE-Multi-Purpose High Explosive. Also known as the DM11 shell (thanks for the ammo Germany!). A fun little shell with different fuse settings I'll be showing you, good readers, as the story progresses.
NBC-Nuclear, biological or chemical air filtration system.
