Ambrose
Mellvere, Principality of Gallia
July 8th, 1935
Staring quietly at his journal, Von Rosen scribbled his last remark of the day on it with his pencil before shutting it.
'Am I good enough?'
Just in time as he was bumped from behind as another officer seated behind him kicked his feet up on his table. A splash of coffee landed on the leather cover of his journal. Ambrose glanced over his shoulder but he rather not make a fuss of it; he was glad it didn't stain his pages. Taking a palm he wiped the warm liquid off his journal before taking a brief sip from the porcelain cup before setting it back on the saucer.
Ambrose Von Rosen had a difficult time trying to find a peaceful spot, the city became one of the largest logistical hubs for the war effort in the southern parts of Gallia. The streets continuously crowded with trucks carrying any form of materiel for the war effort. Mellvere also became a popular location for units to send their soldiers back on passes and it became the established area for whole units to refit before rotating back out to the fronts. Von Rosen took refuge at a café, claiming a table for himself outside where he may watch the activities on the streets. He brought his personal journal along with his map case that still had operational scribbles on it from his last mission; he figured to pass some time studying his previous actions but the noisy activity of the cafe prevented him concentrating.
Dressed in his semi-formal attire that is required for any service member taking recreational leave, Von Rosen endeavored to ensure that no coffee stained the iconic Gallian Blue Dress Uniform painstakingly had to maintain to standard. Ambrose was of regular height with a head of bright, brown hair and obsidian eyes that made it near impossible to see the irises. A subtle mark of his 'Von' nobility, he had a neat part in his long brown hair set on the left side of his head, giving him an uppity appearance. He leaned toward the thinner side of body builds that gave him an advantage of quickly dismounting any tank or vehicle in the event of an emergency; a feature of him was tested twice during the war. The young officer was among the final pre-war wave of Lanseal graduates of 1934. He earned just above average marks in his classes but possessed two great potentials in armored combat and scouting. He immediately volunteered for the Dragoons upon graduating.
The accoutrements of his uniform spoke of his already-tenured career as a young, mounted officer. His left pauldron proudly displayed the ancient insignia of the Gallian Dragoons, a unicorn's head set above two crossed rifles in a bright yellow background. The numbers '371' set below the insignia indicating his regiment's number. A strip of Gallian ribbons arranged in a neat row on his chest served as evidence of his combat involvement since the Invasion; the Crimson Heart and the Bronze Arms of Gallia. The Excellence in Leadership badge shone proudly as it was displayed on his breast pocket; a rare award for young officers to achieve.
'ATTENTION! ATTENTION!'
What seemed like a giant's voice blared across the main square and across the crowded streets of Mellvere. The hustle of the city seemed to have died down in an instant, leaving nothing but the noise of vehicles still traveling along the cobbled roads. All the soldiers appeared to have paused as they looked up towards the nearest speaker. A PA system was established by the Gallian Military Police as a means to disseminate announcements efficiently across the city to include warnings of imminent attacks or notifying specific outfits that are known to be around the area.
Ambrose's head quickly sprung to face the nearest speaker along with the others seated around him.
'EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY: ALL PASSES ARE NOW REVOKED. ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO THEIR MUSTER POINTS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!'
The announcement repeated itself, it was met with a few disgruntled 'boos' and 'comon!' by some of the younger soldiers. The noise of hob-nailed boots clacked on the streets in a running rhythm as multitude of Gallian soldiers understood the urgency of such an announcement. Von Rosen among them, immediately stood up, looking around to see the atmosphere of the town become urgent and rushed. He noticed two soldiers dangerously hopping aboard a truck while it was still moving, two more soldiers dashed just before him, the flash of their yellow unit patches caught his eye. Soldiers were dashing to their assembly areas that were established throughout the town. In the event of any recall of any unit, soldiers that were about to go on leave in Mellvere were thoroughly briefed and were to familiarize themselves with their unit's muster points to be picked up and brought to their encampments outside the city.
Ambrose took a parting sip of his coffee before hastily setting it down, scooping up his journal, map case and his garrison cap, his other hand fished through his pocket to produce a few coins to leave as a tip. Tossing the change on the table, he wasted no time leaving as he vaulted over the little rail and into the sidewalk.
Dodging other soldiers and doing his best not to get smashed by the rearview mirror from a truck or a car going too close to the sidewalk, Von Rosen worked his way down the street that would lead to his unit's mustering area. As he was about to turn the corner, the sudden, low-toned hum of a ragnite engine could be heard behind the street corner. Quickly coming into view on the street was a Lurcher Armored Fighting Vehicle.* Its wheels squealed to a halt as the driver's head was poking through the hatch to ensure that there was no cross-traffic. The vehicle's commander was perched atop the open turret, doing the same to look both ways before proceeding. The two soldiers that Von Rosen saw earlier were seated on the rear of the Lurcher, they all quickly noticed Von Rosen down the street.
"Sir! There you are! Come on!" the whole crew on the Lurcher frantically waved at Ambrose to come aboard.
Going into a fast sprint, he planted his foot atop the middle tire and stepped up to the side of the armored car, the commander of the Lurcher shifting himself aside to make room for Von Rosen to drop into the turret. The vehicle revved as it made its turn, the ragnite engine humming louder as it picked up speed.
"Hey! I just got him! We're heading to camp now, sir!" the commander yelled into his hand mic,
"What's happening?" Ambrose asked as he shifted himself to sit on the loader's stool, completely forgetting that his uniform was being smudged by the dusty interior of the Lurcher's turret.
"Elements of the 103rd Panzer Division are breaking through north of the Kloden Forest, sir! That's why everyone's running back to-"
The screech of tires interrupted the vehicle commander as the passengers on the Lurcher rocked off to one side as the driver swerved to avoid a truck trundling in the opposite lane of the road they were on. The passengers riding on the rear clung to dear life on the handrails of the turret to avoid being tossed onto the street. The driver's expletives were muffled by the noise of the many truck engines on the road, but the final portion of his curse '-you fuck!' could be made out. The Lurcher began to weave side to side at a gentler speed to push through the now congested road.
A face of incredulity was written on the vehicle commander's face as he stood up in his turret to shoot the passing driver a deathly glare. The other passengers demonstrated their middle finger at the soldier as they passed him. Hunching back down the meet Von Rosen's face,
"Regiment's already rolling now, sir. Colonel already broken down his headquarters." the commander resumed.
"So much for recovery!" one of the soldiers commented,
Von Rosen could only nod in acknowledgement as he leaned back against the wall of the turret, his hand slipping out his mapcase to examine it. Taking a hand, he ran his palm across the acetate surface to remove his old markings.
The Dragoon Encampment was already half-way to being disassembled. The noise of the ragnite engines nearly drowned out regular conversation as dozens of APCs, trucks and smaller staff cars scrambled and lined up in a convoy. The Regiment Commander, Colonel Marberg and much of his headquarters squadron who were present had already departed the area. The Regiment Sergeant Major remained behind to see to the quick breakdown of the camp and bringing up the last elements of the Dragoons, his orders could still just be made out over the noises of the camp. As Von Rosen shedded his splotched dress uniform to don his regular fatigues, he finally received his written orders signed with the flourished signature of his commander:
TO: ALL SQN CDRS
URGENT ORDER TO BREAK CAMP, CROSS VASEL RIVER, MOVE WITH ALL POSSIBLE SPEED EAST ALONG RTE 15. MONITOR CURRENT RGT NET FOR FURTHER ORDERS. - COL M.
The majority of the gathered senior leaders in the camp belonged to Squadron 1, the chaos of the recall in Mellvere delayed the arrival of the rest of the leadership of the 731st. Lieutenants Von Rosen, Rosswell, Elliot and Brandt from Squadron 2 were all the officers that were able to return to camp within the hour. Many other Soldiers were still trickling back into the Regiment Camp.
"We got 83 out of the 120 men accounted for now, sir with more to come back." Rosswell said with a pant as he joined the gathered officers by Von Rosen's Lurcher.
"My Weapons Platoon is all here. 30." Brandt added,
"How are we on ammo?" Von Rosen asked,
"Bad. We were supposed to expect our munitions tomorrow, but that won't be the case." Rosswell replied,
"Our vehicles?"
"All ready, sir. Some empty seats, but we can get them to move."
The movement order rudely interrupted the original plans of recovery and replenishment, the stocks of munitions for the Dragoons was severely depleted after their latest missions. The Squadrons would be moving with barely enough for a single combat encounter.
"Maps." Von Rosen ordered,
In near-choreographed unison, all the officers produced their map cases and laid them on the sloped hull of Von Rosen's Lurcher.
"Squadron 1 will cross the Vasel here and will travel on Route 15 east. Recon will take lead, followed by Motors 1 and 2, then Weapons. Brandt, you bring the rear. Sergeant Major will see to the rest of our men still getting back here, but we need to move with who is here now. Questions?" Ambrose's dark eyes darted around his subordinate leaders, waiting for anything.
"Are we expecting combat?" Brandt asked, his eyes tracing the route on his map case,
"I don't know. The orders weren't detailed, Colonel just wants the Regiment moving east. The route will take us to Brunhof if we stay on it, not sure how far the Imps have broken through but I believe the Colonel will see it first and let us know. We'll likely get more once we get moving, more orders will come on the net, so keep your ears out for a transmission as we get closer to the Wildwood." Brandt nodded at the answer, a look of concern still on his face as he stared at his map.
Von Rosen flicked his left arm to expose the watch on his wrist to see the time, "Time is now 1350. Mark your maps if you haven't already. Consolidate what ammo we have. We roll in 10."
With his final order, the officers checked their own watches to synchronize it with Von Rosen's, they immediately dispersed to relay the latest orders to their respective formations. A chain of huddles and map reviews could be seen along the serpentine line of assembled vehicles. With what little time was had, the Gallian Dragoons scrambled with what munitions they had left, soldiers passing along bandoliers of magazines and snatching what grenades, shells and clips that the remainder of the Regiment still behind may not need. The minute hand was one away from striking the new hour, Von Rosen climbed aboard his Lurcher that was set with the Recon Platoon, donning his radio set and adjusting the throat microphone, he looked forward and behind to see the last few of the rapidly assembled dragoons climbing aboard the convoy.
"All stations. Comms check." Von Rosen ordered through the net,
"Recon Lead. Good Comms."
"Motors 1. Good Comms."
"Motors 2. Good Comms."
"Weapons. Good Comms."
"Weapons. Squadron 2. Good Comms."
No response came from the Headquarters Squadron yet. They may be out of range by now if they left that soon. Taking in a deep breath, his hand gripped the rail atop of his turret.
"Squadron 1. Move out!"
