A/N: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it.
EIGHTEEN
Northern Sahara, North African League Occupied Territory
Approximately Sixty kilometers west of Britannian-North African frontlines
March 27, 2005
'This is not going to end well,' Harry thought as he dragged the unconscious North African mage away from where Harry had earlier shot his comrade. The marines that had accompanied Harry stared at him without even bothering to close their mouths, and their commanding officer was not helping in restoring discipline amongst the ranks because Lieutenant Richardson was actually the one that was staring at Harry with the widest open mouthed expression.
Harry ignored them, however as he conjured rope out of thin air. He had no doubt that the marines have more questions now that he had seen him perform magic again, but for Harry, that neither here nor there, and besides, he had far more important things that he needed to worry about, chief of which was the mage who, while unconscious in front of him, was a dangerous adversary when facing non-magical marines.
Harry was well aware of the fact that the North African mage had been knocked out, but the man was knocked out using a stunner fired by Harry, and while the twenty five year old was reasonably confident with his power and abilities, Harry was not sure just how powerful the man that he had stunned was. It could be that the man was about to recover consciousness, or it could be that the man would not be waking up anytime soon. Either way, it would all depend on his the magical reserves of his opponent.
"Lieutenant," Harry said a few moments later. He had finished tying the hands of the unconscious North African mage together and behind the back of the man. Harry turned his attention toward the commander of the patrol that he was sent in with and continued, "Secure the perimeter would you? And prepare to withdraw back to our lines."
Lieutenant Richardson actually thought to countermand the orders of Harry, and he was about to do so, reminding Harry that he was still in command of the unit despite the light show that Harry had just exhibited and the skills that he had shown when he took down the enemy mage.
Two things, however, made Lieutenant Richardson change his mind. The first was the fact that the suggestions of Harry made sense to the marine commander. There was no telling how many North Africans are left in the vicinity, and if there are more like the two that Lieutenant Potter had just taken out, then he and his marines may find themselves in a world of hurt. There was no point in staying here, not when they had already set the dump to detonate and not when they do not have any idea what kind of enemy they are fighting against.
The second – and more important – reason that the Lieutenant stopped was the fact that Harry showed him a pin. It was the kind that was pinned on the dress or battle uniform of a soldier, but the pin that Harry had shown the marine lieutenant was not pinned on the uniform of Harry, rather, Harry had retrieved it from one of the breast pockets of his battle uniform. It was also a pin that was so widely recognizable, yet would never be actually seen on the battlefield under normal circumstances, unless the unit had been ordered deployed by their colonel-in-chief, whoever it is that is seated at the Golden Throne.
In practice, the golden crown with three red ruby insignia of the Imperial Knights Corps would never see combat unless they have been ordered deployed by the person seated on the Golden Throne. Whatever else may be the case though, an officer of the Imperial Knight Corps could order officers higher in rank than him, unless said officer is a staff-grade officer or higher. Lieutenant Richardson is not a staff-grade officer; in fact, he is a junior-grade officer.
Trained to follow orders, Lieutenant Richardson could only nod his acknowledgement of the instructions of Harry. He quickly detailed his remaining men into securing the compound at the same time that he ordered them to locate the others. Currently, there were six marines with Lieutenant Richardson, including the marine officer.
Once he was finished with giving instructions to his men, the marine lieutenant approached Harry who was by now conjuring more rope so that he could tie the feet of the unconscious North African mage. The marine lieutenant quickly assisted Harry with the task, but even as Harry looped the rope that he had conjured around the ankles of the North African mage – he had gotten rid of the boots, just in case – Lieutenant Richardson asked, "What the hell was that?"
Harry turned his attention toward the marine lieutenant and for a few moments, he just stared at him. He wondered about the propriety of telling Lieutenant Richardson that what he had just witnessed was something that the lieutenant should not concern himself with because when they get back to base, the lieutenant would have been ordered by his own superiors to forget everything that he had seen, but Harry discounted that option a few moments after he thought about it.
For one thing, the lieutenant and his men risked their lives – and from the look of things, some of the men had given their lives – to bring Harry here. In any case, even if Harry were to tell the lieutenant everything, Lieutenant Richardson would still be ordered to forget everything by his own superiors, at the least. Harry was not ruling out Imperial Knights coming in to obliviate the lieutenant and every marine that would survive this encounter.
"That was my mission, Lieutenant," Harry said. He quickly conjured another set of rope and used it to pin the hands of the unconscious mage to his side. Lieutenant Richardson was only all too glad to help, so long as Harry was explaining things to him, "We have received intelligence that the North Africans are in the process of making a unit exclusively composed of men that have a special ability," Harry continued, "I have been ordered into the country to confirm these reports"
"This mission?" Lieutenant Richardson asked. He quickly double checked the knot that Harry had used to tie the unconscious enemy combatant and gave a nod to Harry to signal that the rope was secure.
Harry shook his head, "This mission was supposed to be for me to find a way to confirm these repots," Harry said, "Colonel Carleton placed me in your unit because he said you are the best and because you are heading out anyway to do a reconnaissance operation and a little sabotage behind enemy lines," Harry shrugged before he added, "I guess that colonel though I could pick some intelligence while we are out, and I guess he was right," as he motioned toward the unconscious – and thoroughly tied – North African mage.
"What are you going to do with him?" Lieutenant Richardson asked.
"His fate is up to the interrogators back at our lines," Harry admitted, "We have special interrogators waiting for him, and whether he lives or dies would depend on the amount of information that he is willing to give."
"We're dragging him with us?" Lieutenant Richardson asked, and when Harry nodded, the marine lieutenant added, "Well, I guess that he is not match of a threat when he is knocked out, but what happens when he wakes up? Are you sure that those ropes would be enough to curtail him? I mean, you said it yourself, he has a special ability."
'The man has a point,' Harry though, 'fortunately, I have the right equipment with me,'
Harry quickly produced a golden pendant which he placed around the neck of the unconscious mage, "This is a power suppressor," Harry explained, "While it is in contact with him, his magic would be suppressed to the point that he would not be able to depend on it in any escape."
Harry saw Lieutenant Richardson nod, but the young navy officer did not need legilimancy in order to know that the marine officer does not have that much faith with what Harry had just said.
Watching Lieutenant Richardson as the marine officer turned away in order to confer with one of his marines that was just approaching them at a dead run, Harry realized that he really could not blame the marine for that attitude. He and his men had just witnessed a magical duel – albeit one that is rather short and probably a fight that is not fair. Harry was certain that the only reason that the Lieutenant was not freaking out was because the man is a marine, and Harry knew for certain that the only reason that the other marines are not freaking out and demanding for his head is because Lieutenant Richardson is in command.
'Now all that is left is to take the captured mage back to base and hand him over to the mind-readers,' Harry thought. He stood and cast a levitation charm on the man – 'there is no need for me to hide my magic anymore, and if there is no need to hide, I am not going to drag this man without resorting to magic' – and sent the man barreling toward the direction of the motor pool.
At the same time, Harry checked the magazine of his rifle, and upon finding it empty, he quickly replaced it with a fresh fifty round magazine.
'We're probably not that far away from the frontlines,' Harry thought, 'if they have a supply dump here…'
Any further thoughts from Harry were promptly interrupted when he heard Lieutenant Richardson calling for him. The young naval officer turned his attention toward the direction where the sound was coming from and saw the marine officer waving toward Harry and asking him to come over.
Harry fought the urge to sigh before he turned toward the direction of where the marine officer stood together with one of his enlisted men. Harry recognized the corporal as one of those that Lieutenant Richardson had sent to locate the other marines, and for a brief few moments, Harry felt cold inside. He was certain that he was about to be informed that some of the marines have been killed, but it passed on quickly enough after Harry reminded himself that they are at war right now, and people will die.
"We have missing men," Lieutenant Richardson said without preamble. Harry could only nod because at that moment, he wondered what that had to do with him, but then the young naval officer realized that Lieutenant Richardson intended to search for his missing men.
Lieutenant Richardson turned his attention away from Harry and toward the marine corporal that stood with him, though before Lieutenant Richardson could say anything, Harry injected himself back into the conversation.
"Lieutenant…," Harry began, but then he paused just as the lieutenant returned his attention toward Harry. If the marines are missing, then that means someone had taken them, and from the fact that they had been attacked by North African mages, then it stands to reason that the kidnappers are North African mages, which means that Harry has to hunt them down.
Of course, it is possible that the kidnappers are regular North African soldiers, but that would mean more of a problem because Harry was not sure if the missing marines had seen him perform magic. If they had, those marines may be forced to reveal what they had witnessed to their captors and that would open a messier can of worms.
Either way, Harry realized that he would have no choice but to agree with the unspoken decision of Lieutenant Richardson to search for the missing marines.
"Lieutenant Potter?" the voice of Lieutenant Richardson shook Harry out of his reverie. There was a questioning look on the face of the marine officer, but Harry shook his head.
"Do we know which direction we should start looking?" Harry asked.
Again, Harry did not need to use legilimancy in order to know that the marine officer was surprised by the fact that Harry not only was not offering protest to the decision, but also appear to be more than willing to assist in the search.
Aboard HMS Iron Duke, Supreme Fleet Flagship, Imperial Britannian Grand Fleet
En Route to Port of Sidi Barrani, Egypt, from Gibraltar, Mediterranean Sea
March 27, 2005
The wind blowing from the north to the south pushed the black smoke billowing from the funnels of the five Britannian battleships travelling in a single column eastward. The direction that the wind was blowing meant that the ships following the lead ship did not need to contend with the smoke billowing out of the ships to the front, allowing the crew of those ships to see ahead of them in the clear.
It also meant that the crew of the ship at the front of the line could look back and see the perfect line formed by the five battleships.
Lord Alexander was one of the few men aboard his flagship that actually has the luxury of stepping out of the superstructure of the mighty warship and looking westward toward the bow of the ships that make up the rest of the strength of his personal battleship division.
With their flags billowing resplendent in the wind and with their perfect formation, the five mighty battlewagons must look as if they are in some stately formation to a person who was observing them from the ground, quite ironic considering that even in such a configuration, this particular division was probably the most powerful battleship division in the entire of the Grand Fleet, and because the Grand Fleet is the most powerful fleet in the Holy Empire, it stands to reason that this division is the most powerful division of battleships in the whole world.
A small smile graced the face of Lord Alexander as he thought about that. HMS Iron Dukehas four escorts, and all of them are from the Hermione—class of battleships. No other battleship division in the world, Britannian or otherwise, is composed of a single ship with twelve twenty-inch guns escorted by four warships carrying twelve eighteen-inch guns each.
Mostly because no other navy in the world – 'not the Prussians, not the Soviets, not the Japanese, not the South Americans, and certainly the North Africans,' Lord Alexander thought – have the capacity to field twenty inch guns aboard their warships.
Powerful as the 9th Battleship Division – the personal division of Lord Alexander – was, the division was not alone. Trailing slightly behind and about four kilometers to the south of the battleship division of Lord Alexander, the four light cruisers of the 9th Light Cruiser Squadron trailed behind, ready to provide support should it prove needed. Eight kilometers ahead of the 9th Battleship division of Lord Alexander are the five battlecruisers of the 1st Battlecruiser division of Vice Admiral Lawrence Forlani, led by his flagship, HMS Lancelot.
Tasked with making sure that the path ahead is clear, Vice Admiral Forlani would most likely engage any North African ships that he would come across before reporting them. After all, the North Africans have no ship capable of actually equaling the battlecruisers of Vice Admiral Forlani, never mind the battleships of Lord Alexander.
Another smile came across the face of Lord Alexander when he considered that another of his senior officers had tried – screaming and begging – to be allowed to come with him for this slight incursion, but Lord Alexander vetoed the request of Admiral Cornwallis on the ground that while Admiral Cornwallis only had two ships in his division, both of those ships are aircraft carriers that would require their own escorts. Such a deployment is not possible given that most of the escorts of the aircraft carriers are still to arrive from the British Isles.
'Of course, it is also overkill to bring Admiral Cornwallis with us,' Lord Alexander thought. This was supposed to be a simple visit to the frontlines. Lord Alexander had envisioned going to the front with only his flagship, but Grand Fleet operating instructions – which Lord Alexander had written himself – prohibit a single ship from going somewhere without the rest of her division, unless specific circumstances prohibit the other ships from travelling.
Admiral Dalton then guilt-tripped him into bringing along the two other units – the 4th Light Cruiser and the 1st Battlecruiser – by arguing that the 4th Light Cruiser is on their way out anyway as part of the regular patrols, and the 1st Battlecruiser has new crews aboard some of their ships that require familiarization cruises.
'Somehow this makes me feel like a bully,' Lord Alexander thought. He shook his head, however, and turned his attention toward the ship trailing behind his flagship, 'HMS Hermione,' he thought.
A sigh escaped from the lips of Lord Alexander. This was not a simple mission to visit the frontlines. Lord Alexander is heading to the front to personally review intelligence that the North Africans and the Prussians are working together, a potential diplomatic nightmare that could potentially see the Holy Empire and Prussia – two of the largest Empires in the world – butting their heads in an actual war.
'Not that we are not looking forward to fighting the Prussians,' Lord Alexander thought, 'but the timing could not have come at the worst time.'
The Archduke of England shook his head. He knew that he would have to worry about that in the full when the time comes, because just as North African and the Mediterranean are his responsibility, he knew that fighting the Prussians, when that time comes, would also fall in his doorstep.
'It would be for the best for us to finish this war with the North Africans as soon as possible,' he thought, and for a brief few moments, Lord Alexander thought about the propriety of actually swinging further south and attacking the North African coastal city of Tunis, headquarters of the North African fleet.
'It is not out of the question that the harbor would be defended by the North African fleet, though,' Lord Alexander countered, 'attacking the anchorage would require more than just ten capital ships, it may even require the full strength of the fleet given that the North Africans could bring to bear their airpower in the region.'
Further musings on the part of Lord Alexander, however, were quickly interrupted when the bells of the ship started ringing. The General-Admiral of the Grand Fleet was familiar with the rhythm of the bells, and it was not the collision warning.
Turning his attention downward and onto the deck of his flagship, he noted with a pleased smile that his sailors are also very familiar with the three rings of a call to action stations, but that raised the question in the mind of Lord Alexander. Why would Captain Nelson – his flag-captain and the man who had actual responsibility of the flagship – call for action stations?
Shrugging, Lord Alexander quickly turned his attention back toward the open steel door that he had used to get out of the superstructure. That door would soon be closed as the ship goes up to action stations, so the commander of the Grand Fleet quickly made his way back into the superstructure.
No one was saluting the General-Admiral as he made his way to the bridge of the warship, but that was what Lord Alexander had expected. With the ship coming up to action stations, the crew are more concerned with being at the right place at the right time rather than saluting their superior officers. Only the marine on guard beside the door that would lead to the bridge saluted Lord Alexander as he entered the view of the guard, but Lord Alexander did not return the salute, instead, he headed straight into the open door of the bridge, just before another marine – this one inside the bridge – closed the door and secured it by locking the mechanism.
"What is going on?" Lord Alexander asked as he joined his flag captain beside the navigation table inside the bridge. This was the traditional position of the captain of the vessel when the warship is at action stations. As for the admiral in command of the division, well, he actually had no place inside the bridge during action stations, his place was supposed to be inside the armored bridge, but no one is going to tell Lord Alexander that, especially when it is very likely that Lord Alexander himself would be conducting the battle, and the armored bridge was not conducive to such responsibilities.
"Radar had detected multiple targets approaching us from the north, sir," Captain Raphael Nelson, flag-captain of HMS Iron Duke, reported to Lord Alexander.
The thirty seven year old native of Amarillo, Texas was newly assigned to be the flag-captain of the flagship. The cruise from Scapa Flow to Gibraltar was actually the first time that Captain Nelson had command of the flagship, but HMS Iron Duke is not the first time that Captain Nelson is helming a battleship, it was just that this is his first time helming a battleship that is also the flagship of the fleet. Lord Alexander, however, had personally picked him.
"They are thinking that since the wind is blowing from the north, their smoke would mask them," Lord Alexander said, "They did not count on us having radar," he smiled even as he shook his head and asked, "Are the other ships in action stations as well?"
"Yes, Admiral," Captain Nelson replied. He motioned toward the navigation table and Lord Alexander turned his attention toward the surface of the table just as Captain Nelson continued, "The unknowns, if they continue on their present bearing, would hit us here just as we are about to cross that point."
"That's a very nice point, well coordinated," Lord Alexander concluded, and it is. The unknowns and the battleship division would come within sight of each other just as the division is crossing that point. That meant that if this was an ambush, someone observed the departure of the division from Gibraltar and timed the interception down to the last second. Then again, it could be just coincidence.
Either way, now that the unknowns had been detected, initiative had passed from them to the Britannians, and Lord Alexander fully intends to make use of that initiative.
"Has Vice Admiral Forlani detected the unknowns as well?" Lord Alexander asked.
"Yes, Admiral," Captain Nelson replied, "He is standing by for instructions."
Lord Alexander nodded, even as he realized how much of an opportunity this is. A few moments ago, he was thinking about the propriety of hitting the main anchorage of the North African Fleet at Tunis, now, he was being given the chance to sink some ships that would take refuge in that anchorage, but that is assuming that the incoming unknowns are North African.
"Any chance that these are not hostile warships?" Lord Alexander asked.
Captain Nelson emphasized the negative answer by shaking his head, "Our patrol is not yet due to intercept us for another day or so, Admiral, and even if it is our patrol, it should be travelling west from east, this one is travelling south from north. We have also checked with the Spanish, and they say that they do not have their ships out."
"Prussians?" Lord Alexander asked. It was not out of the realm of possibility for the Prussians to send their ships this far west. Although this location is very close to the territory of the Kingdom of Spain, this is still international waters.
The Prussians have as much right to travel through here as Lord Alexander and his division.
"Possible, but unlikely sir," Captain Nelson replied, "Supposedly, they had withdrawn their patrols north following the outbreak of hostilities, but in any case, sir, if they are Prussians, they would have already detected us, and they would already have reacted."
Lord Alexander nodded at the same time that he studied the table in front of him. He was pleased with the assessment of his new flag captain, but he was not going to show it.
Fighting back the urge to curse, Lord Alexander knew that if he had the aircraft carriers of Admiral Cornwallis with him, he could order a reconnaissance plane out within ten minutes and he could have a clearer image of just who is on the other side.
The General-Admiral mentally shook his head, however, even as a small smile appeared on his face, 'it would not do anyone good, least of all me, if I were to grow to depend on things that may not always be there,' he thought. The aircraft carriers of Admiral Cornwallis and their aircraft are priceless assets not only in finding out who and where the enemy is, but also with their striking capacity.
However, aircraft carriers are relatively new additions to the fleet. Britannia operates forty four of them, plus one hundred twenty one smaller escort carriers. The next largest fleet in the world, the Prussian fleet, operates one, with one more on the way as they learn how to properly operate them as part of their fleet. Lord Alexander had no doubt that it would take the Prussians at least another two years.
Lord Alexander turned his attention toward the radar scope and said, "Judging from the size of that target, the unknowns are probably close together or they are big ships, the latter is more likely than the former," he paused before he asked in a rhetorical way, "Armored cruisers?"
"The North African strike force, then," Captain Nelson said. For many officers in the Grand Fleet – and the Britannian Fleet for that matter – the decision of the North African leadership to group their armored cruisers under one unit was an inspired decision. The armored cruisers that formed the most potent striking power of the North African Fleet can now support each other and be a more portent striking power.
The problem is that there is only one, so the leadership of the North African Fleet has to husband the division until it could be put on the field for a decisive encounter. Thus, it stands to reason that the moment that the commander of those ships find out that he would not only be going toe to toe against a battleship division, but the division under the personal command of Lord Alexander – not that the Archduke had any illusions about himself, the enemy would run because of the size of his flagship, not because he is there – he would want to run away.
Fleets do not exist for other fleets to destroy, fleets exists for functional purposes, and Lord Alexander knew that for the North Africans, the functional purpose of their fleet is to remain as a fleet-in-being, a contingency that the Britannians would have to consider whenever they are planning an assault. Thus, the North African commander would want to save his ships and return home. That was something that Lord Alexander had no intention of letting them do.
"Likely," Lord Alexander conceded. He turned his attention toward the navigation table before he sighed and said, "The moment that those cruisers see us, they would want to run for home, so expect that they would not engage, but we will."
"At the interception point," Lord Alexander continued, "We will fire full broadsides against them as they charge against us, but expect them not to turn back the way they came from, they would want to break past us, and for that reason, we are not going to block them."
"I expect that they would continue sailing south, toward their anchorage, we have to stop them before that happens, so the moment that they pass us, the division would form a line parallel to them, heading south as well, and positioned to their west," Lord Alexander said, "At the same time, another line, this one formed by the battlecruisers of Admiral Forlani would be to their east, also sailing south and attacking the North Africans, between us and Admiral Forlani, we will sandwich the North African strike force and sink them before they could even contribute to this war."
"Questions?" Lord Alexander asked.
"Sir," Captain Nelson said, "What if they do not run home?"
Lord Alexander grinned, and it was not a friendly grin, "If that happens," the Archduke said, "then we will overwhelm them with our sheer mass and numbers, either way, victory would be ours."
Northern Sahara, North African League Occupied Territory
Approximately Eighty kilometers west of Britannian-North African frontlines
March 27, 2005
Harry turned the binoculars to the right side in response to what Lieutenant Richardson had said. Using the field glasses, Harry identified three Soviet-made utility vehicles with flags on their hoods parked near one of the larger tents in the make-shift compound that their captured mage had identified as the location where the captured Force Recon Marines had been taken.
Thinking about how Lieutenant Richardson had made the captured North African mage talk, Harry suppressed a shudder. Lieutenant Richardson and his marines may not know how to cast the cruciatus curse – or any curse for that matter – but the way that they made the captured mage talk was effective.
In fact, it was probably more effective than casting the pain curse on the man. The North African mage was probably prepared to withstand the pain caused by one of the three unforgivable curses, but not the advance interrogation methods that the force recon marines had used.
Barely ten minutes after Lieutenant Richardson had started pouring water over the face of the man before the captive mage started to talk. Of course, the North African Mage negated to tell them that the place where the captured marines had been taken also appears to be the headquarters of the entire North African League army corps that had been leading the charge into Britannian-Egypt.
Unfortunately, they could not really tear the man a new one. After realizing that they could not afford to bring the mage with them, Lieutenant Richardson had his marines stuff the captive inside a hastily built concrete and cement box. The Lieutenant planned to pick him up after they are done with this raid.
"Do we even have enough firepower to be able to take this location?" one of the marines that had been observing the camp asked.
Lieutenant Richardson was about to answer – and Harry already knew that the lieutenant would answer in the negative, though Harry doubted if that would be a factor in the decision of the lieutenant to go ahead and rescue the captured Britannian marines – but before the lieutenant could say something, Harry said, "Not in terms of conventional firepower, no," before a grin erupted on his face, and there was nothing friendly with that grin, "but we can take them."
The marines – including their commanding officer – stared at Harry, and for a few moments, Harry was sure that the marines are going to ask questions, but they wisely kept their mouths shut and instead turned their attention to preparing their equipment.
"Between us, we have five assault rifles, two machineguns, our pistols, enough ammunition for probably thirty minutes of action, and about a dozen or so explosives of the remote control variety," Lieutenant Richardson said, "As you now, we could not have replenished with the enemy supply dump."
Harry nodded. The North African use Soviet standard small arms, which meant that their primary assault rifle fires the seven-sixty two millimeter bullet, while the Britannian standard is five- seven millimeter round.
"It's more than enough," Harry assured the lieutenant. He returned his attention toward the direction of the enemy camp, just in time to see another Soviet-made utility vehicle enter the camp. The utility vehicle also had a flag on the hood, but Harry doubted that the vehicle was carrying another high ranking North African commander.
"What are you planning on doing?" Lieutenant Richardson asked Harry at the same time that he pulled the charging handle of his rifle, chambering one of the fifty rounds that was held by the magazine.
"I could demolish the camp by myself, but I doubt if that is the reason that we are here," Harry said, half in jest. His face turned serious, however, when he quickly added, "We could do that later before we extract."
The marine officer nodded, "Agreed," he said, "We do not know where our people are being held, but from the way that those high rankers are gathering, I'd say that they are inside the command tent and being given an audience by the North Africans."
Harry nodded, "I am inclined to agree with that assessment," he admitted. He closed his eyes and breathed in as if he was consolidating his strength. By the time that he opened his eyes, Lieutenant Richardson had one of the assault rifles on his other hand and he was offering it to Harry who shook his head in the negative, "I would be of more use using my own abilities and not carrying a gun right now, Lieutenant," he said.
Lieutenant Richardson did not protest as he withdrew the offered rifle. Instead, the marine office slung the rifle behind his back – this one was an extra rifle – before he turned his attention toward his men and signaled for them to move out.
The lieutenant had planned to hit the camp as close as possible to the command tent, and the marines were fortunate enough that there was good cover at that side. One by one, the marines stealthily made their way toward the outcropping of rock, taking extra care to make sure that the enemy sentries do not see them, though Harry doubted that that would happen. The few sentries that are on station appear to be more concerned with talking with each other than doing their job.
Still, Harry supposed that that had something to do with the fact that the base seemed to be a long way from the front. It also appeared to be the headquarters of their command and control echelon.
Harry shook his head before he turned his attention toward the direction of the marine that were still trying to move into position. They were crouching so low, they may as well be crawling to get to their position, but Harry could not inform them that the sentries are not watching, mostly because that would require to him to shout. In any case, just because the sentries are not watching right now does not mean that they would not be watching later.
The young naval officer returned his attention toward the direction of the North African camp. The Soviet-made utility vehicles were still parked in a neat row outside the largest tent in the outpost. Harry closed his eyes as he felt his power flow over his body. Although he had been given warning against using his magic in outright combat against the enemy unless the situation calls for it, Harry was going to use his magic as a force multiplier in this coming skirmish.
He felt that there was no option left, and, in any case, if the North Africans were to report him, Harry figured that it would just create a myth amongst the ranks of the North Africans that would sap their morale. It was not as if the North Africans could present their own mage unit and tell their regulars that magic exists. As for the Britannian marines with Harry, he was sure that they would keep their mouths shut, especially if they are ordered to do so, and Harry intends to ask his commanding officer to order the marines to keep their mouths shut.
Harry opened his eyes at the same time that he felt his magic gather in his hands. His mind flew back to one of those classes that he had audited when he was visiting Hogwarts. The professor of that class had told them that while it is possible for wizards and witches to use their magic without a focus, very few people are capable of doing it. A grim smile crossed the features of Harry at that.
That professor was technically correct, very few people are capable of focusing their magic without the use of a focus, such as a wand or a staff, the latter rarer than the former. The reason behind this, however, has nothing to do with the inherent power of the witch or the wizard, rather, the reason behind this obvious disability on the part of the focus-users was because they trained themselves that way.
Of course, since the rest of the world trained their witches and wizards that way, very few people really are capable of focusing their magic without the use of a focus.
Harry, however, was not trained like the rest of the world. He was trained at Olympia Academy, and the most prestigious school in the Empire – arguably the world – was a trendsetter when it comes to education and educational method. There was no reason why the magical counterpart would not be the same.
As a result, Harry and all of his classmates from when he was still studying primary and intermediate magic could use their magic without the need for a focus. That was exactly what Harry was doing.
The young naval officer turned his attention toward the direction of where Lieutenant Richardson had led his marines. Thanks to the absence of a radio, the lieutenant could not tell Harry when he is in position. The two officers, however, were well aware of this problem, and so, had developed their plan accordingly.
Harry now returned his attention toward the North African camp and inhaled once, then twice. It was as if he was preparing for the coming attack, but in truth, he was already done with his preparations, he was now only judging the right moment with which to launch his attack, and the right moment was something that only he could judge for himself.
However, that moment was not far from happening, and at some unseen signal, Harry inhaled one more time. This time, though, he held it for a few moments, before he exhaled, at the same time that he pushed himself up to his feet at the same time that he snapped his index finger and thumb on both hands together.
The sentries were not alert and completely missed Harry even though he had already broken cover. In their defense though, their attention was all stolen by the fact that storm clouds had suddenly appeared over their outpost.
Rain clouds were not something that is common in this part of the dessert, because the location is so far inland. It was not surprising that the sentries were surprised, and the fact that they suddenly appeared did not help matters at all. They all stared at the rain clouds at the same time that they started pointing and talking with each other as if this was the first time that they had seen rain clouds – though that was probably accurate.
Suddenly, they were no longer pointing. Instead, the North African sentries were screaming as lightning started striking them from above. Anyone that the lightning hits was instantly killed, causing the confused North Africans to start trying to find shelter against the unnatural lightning storm.
At that precise moment, however, Lieutenant Richardson and his marines launched their attack. Under the cover of machinegun fire, the marine lieutenant led his men – minus the two men who were covering them with machinegun fire – out of the position that the lieutenant had chosen as the starting point of his attack and onto the open ground.
Normally that would be a suicidal move, but the defending North African soldiers were in no position to defend, after having taken shelter against the lightning storm that Harry had summoned over their heads. The first three machinegun positions that were supposed to be protecting the outpost fell without the North Africans firing a single shot in defense of their outpost.
Harry turned his attention at that moment toward the command tent, and he had his gaze there when a man wearing stars on his epaulets stepped out of the tent. There was a look of irritation on the face of the man, and Harry imagined that the general – for the man was undoubtedly one given the stars on his uniform – was about to launch into a tirade against his men when, suddenly, he no longer cared about anything in the world.
One of the lightning bolts that was still flashing from the storm clouds that Harry had conjured hit the man, and more than ten thousand volts of electricity coursed through his body, frying him before he could even open his mouth to launch into that tirade. The man did not even see the approaching marines of Lieutenant Richardson, for he had his attention turned against the direction of the marines.
Harry dispelled the storm clouds over the North African encampment. Although effective, the lightning bolts actually do not differentiate between North African and Britannian. With the marines now inside the North African base, the lightning might hit them instead of the North Africans.
The support of Harry, however, did not end there. Not even a moment had passed after he had dispelled his storm clouds, did he launch another attack.
Most of the North African soldiers were herded together underneath small roofs, an attempt to keep themselves safe from the lightning striking above them. Unfortunately, that meant that they are gathered at one confined space, and the next spell that Harry sent them took every advantage of that fact.
The sands underneath the feet of the North African soldiers rumbled, much to the confusion – and fear – of the soldiers. Very few of the regulars showed enough intelligence to break their cover and separate themselves from their comrades, but most of them fell to the ground as Lieutenant Richardson and his marines placed bullets somewhere in their bodies.
As for those who were still clustered together, they suddenly realized that they were stepping on literally nothing. It took a moment before gravity expressed its power over them, and with a mighty shout of fear coming from the North African regulars, they fell into a deep hole, quickly followed by what appeared to be a million tons of stone that appeared out of nowhere.
By this time, Lieutenant Richardson and the marines had arrived at the entrance to the command tent. At close quarters, Harry could do little to support the men, but he knew that Lieutenant Richardson and his men are more than capable of taking the command tent, even if he would not be there to provide them with support.
The sound of engines being turned on made Harry turn his attention toward the opposite end of the North African camp. At least half a dozen utility vehicles were still there and some of them appeared to have drivers inside them. Those soldiers appear to have had enough and had instead decided to run away, but Harry was not going to let them.
The young naval officer closed his eyes as he gathered his powers once more. At the same time, the drivers of the utility vehicles gunned down their engines in an attempt to escape the camp that is under siege. Most of them only managed five meters before their vehicles were swallowed by the ground. One, however, managed a good twenty meters before a rock – bigger than the utility vehicle – appeared on the sky above the vehicle. The force of gravity made the rock drop to the earth, crashing the escaping utility vehicle beneath it as it was pulled down by gravity.
An exhausted breath managed to escape from the lips of Harry and the young naval officer was forced to keep a sharp eye out on his magic reserves. It surprised him that he was draining his core faster than he had anticipated, but the young mage supposed that that was because this is the first time that he is using his active magic in the field. Some of the spells that he had used were not even spells that most of his contemporaries at the Olympia Academy of Magic could do. Some of his professors could not even do it.
Fortunately, by the time that Harry had returned his attention toward the direction of the command tent – right after he had checked his magical reserves – he saw Lieutenant Richardson and the marines half-carrying, half-dragging two of their own. It was obvious that those that were being supported were the captives; the men were not wearing the top of their dessert fatigues.
Harry watched as the lieutenant led his men over to one of the flat bed trucks that fortunately managed to avoid getting torched by the lightning that Harry had summoned. The lieutenant was the last person to board the vehicle and even then, he was at the back, with his rifle at the ready, as if he was expecting the North Africans to chase after them.
'They would probably be the safe assumption,' Harry thought at the same time that the utility vehicle approached him.
Shrugging, Harry quickly jumped out of his cover and onto the road before running toward the direction of the incoming vehicle. The driver stopped the truck to allow Harry to climb aboard with the help of Lieutenant Richardson who had his right hand outstretched toward Harry. Harry was quick to accept the help.
"What happened in there?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. He turned his attention toward the two marines that had been rescued – lying on the floor of the truck while tended to by their comrades. It seems that both men are now unconscious, but Harry made a mental note to make sure that both men are who they are supposed to be and to check their minds for any sort of programming that the North African mages may have placed there.
When one is fighting against mages, one could never be sure.
The grin on the face of Lieutenant Richardson told Harry that the man had managed to do something extra inside the tent, something that was not really supposed to be in the plan. In any case, the man looked extra pleased with himself.
"Managed to take out their whole command structure," the marine lieutenant announced, "the lieutenant general in charge of the corps that is in the lead of this offensive against the Eight Army, plus three of the five major generals that are in command of the divisions in the corps."
"Counting the one that I think I took out before you assaulted the place?" Harry asked at the same time that he accepted the assault rifle of one of the marines who was seated at the front of the vehicle.
"I don't think so," Lieutenant Richardson replied, he had to raise his voice a bit as the vehicle started to pick up speed now that they are on the highway, "We counted our kills inside the tent."
Harry nodded. He turned his attention the front of the vehicle and silently prayed that the man that they are about to get – the North African mage that pointed them toward this direction – was still alive when they get to him.
At the same time, Harry silently prayed that there would be no more surprises waiting for them. At the same time, however, Harry knew that that would be a foolish notion, him praying for no more surprised. After all, they are at war.
"So, that's five high ranking officers of the North African Army," Lieutenant Richardson said, distracting Harry and making the young naval officer turn his attention toward the marine officer. There was still a gleeful look on the face of the marine lieutenant as he added, "This would make a big impact on the front, lieutenant."
'It would,' Harry thought as he nodded toward the direction of Lieutenant Richardson, 'the question is, what kind of impact it would make?'