Chp. 3: The Knight
January 23, 2005
Pemrooke's HQ, Allenfort
The Field Marshall was none too pleased when he got a call from the Secret Intelligence Service. Pleasantries had just barely been exchanged when the man on the other end delivered the news regarding General Ikov. Pembrooke bolted up from his seat, wide-eyed and red-faced.
"Who the bloody hell authorized that hit?" He barked.
"As of now sir, we have no record of providing the local resistance with the information needed to ambush Ikov. I suspect it was authorized and carried out at the resistance's own will." The SIS officer, known only as Blunt, replied in a slow monotone. His lack of emotion wasn't sitting well with the Field Marshall.
"Well that's peachy, innit? I thought the joint efforts of ISAF's intelligence agencies would make sure a bunch of local hooligans didn't drink too much and decide to go take shots at Erusean generals. Especially not when we're less than 24 hours away from the biggest operation since getting the GHQ to North Point!"
"We are confident that this affair will not endanger the operation. If anything, the Eruseans will turn their attention inwards. It may even benefit us should they suspect a traitor or mole."
"Like the ones I imagine MI6 has spent a long time planting."
"Again, we provided no support for the attack. Should our assets somehow become endangered by this affair, we've long planned how to remove them from harm's way."
"If you're this confident, I demand that MI6 take this matter to the Ministry of Defense. Before I do."
There was a long silence from the other line. Pembrooke rested a finger on the hold button, ready to ask Miss Day to get him on the line to the MoD. He'd take it up to the queen and the prime minister. After another second he realized he'd been placed on hold by the SIS officer. Why that cheeky little…
"Field Marshall Pembrooke?" A woman's voice spoke up.
"Speaking." He replied curtly.
"This is Sammantha Baines,Chief of…you know who it is, Field Marshall. I understand there's concern over the security of your upcoming operations."
"Yes, Miss Baines. These kinds of random attacks can make the Eruseans very paranoid. Especially considering who's in charge of where we plan to go."
"I understand your point of view, and while MI6 had no role in the matter I can assure you we have no intention of sabotaging this operation. We have a vested interest and a duty to the Lenish people to see that this operation is successful. I cannot give you assurances regarding the Eruseans' response, however. Neither can my subordinates. Are we clear?"
Pembrooke moved his finger away from the hold button, but refused to completely bow.
"Should this operation fail because of what has happened, Miss Baines, then I intend that I shall not be the only one answering to the MoD, parliament, the prime minister or whomever shall inquire what happened." He declared.
"...Very well. Best of luck to you, Field Marshall."
She hung up almost instantly, leaving Pembrooke to stare at the phone. Still angry, but more interested in sleep, he went to his bathroom for something to get him to get back to that. As he walked back to his bed, he sat down next to his phone again. He reached out for it, then stopped, then reached out again.
"Communications Room, Officer of the Watch speaking." A young man's voice said.
"Lieutenant Gilbert, this is Pembrooke. I want you to get Denton and SF Command on the phone; something's come up that requires their expertise and I want to explore our options." The older man instructed.
"Right away, sir."
He decided he could get a good night's rest when the war was over…
Dear Sir,
Thank you for your letter. The Comberth Philharmonic Orchestra is touched to know that in Lenshire's darkest days it can inspire and give hope. Especially to our esteemed members of her majesty's armed forces. We hope you will continue to show your support of the Comberth Philharmonic. We offer several ways to listen to nightly performances. Encased with this letter is a program detailing radio and TV stations who host the orchestra. As a show of our appreciation, we've also included a photograph of the orchestra. We hope these find you well
Sincerely,
The Men and Women of the Comberth Performing Arts Committee
Arthur scoffed and tossed aside the letter. I'm a masochist, he told himself, I'm just going to try again. Already he was looking at the notepad and pens he kept nearby, or considering going to the rec building to use one of the computers. He held up the photo and scanned the faces until he saw the only one he knew. The scarlett hair and alabaster skin of Vanessa Robbins still looked as stunning as ever. He started to flick aside the picture, then simply dropped it and grabbed his notepad. Dear Comberth Philharmonic, he thought as he started writing, Do you ever read any of the damn letters you stuffy morons get? While I'm out here risking life and limb I would at least expect somebody to pay attention! He wrote out a few colorful descriptions of the orchestra staff's intelligence, then crumpled up the paper and threw it in the waste bin.
"Bloody hate all this waiting just as much as you, Knight. Can't wait to go up into the sky and be bored circling over the ocean for six hours. Oh, if I get really lucky maybe I can sit in one of the shelters for six hours!" Abel agreed from his bunk at the other end of the space.
"No no, something else. Life outside the service, what little I still have."
"Oh, I can relate to that too. I miss my GTV6, zipping around the countryside where the police don't come often. Some Erusean general probably claimed it and doesn't even care for it."
"If you're lucky, they didn't think it looked sporty enough and had their troops use it for target practice." Paul suggested.
"That's even worse, Simmer!"
"Yeah but is it worse than some fat general stinking up the interior?"
"You can clean out the inside of a car. You can't undo bullet holes."
"You can try to clean out the inside. Anyways, Knight's been trying to get some closure on this girl he's liked for a long time."
"Ah, love. The leading aliment in the military."
Knight rolled his eyes, then turned around in his chair and leaned back.
"Don't think I need to keep chasing closure. I can get it without bashing my head against the wall." He commented flatly.
"Oh boy, we griping about stuff?" Flight Lieutenant Andrew Francis asked as he walked through a curtain separating sections of the barracks. Knight sneered.
"Love sucks, Romeo." He chuckled.
"It does, young Knight. Who's the source of heartache?"
"Vanessa Robbins of the Comberth Philharmonic Orchestra. We went to secondary school together and had something of a friendship. She helped me a great deal with my studies."
"That name sounds vaguely familiar…"
"It's the redhead who plays the piano, mate. Knight prefers redheads, why do ya think he kept the December picture from last year's calendar?" Paul spoke up.
"Never pegged you two as fans of orchestras."
"It's what me and Simmer hit it off about."
"I see, so this Vanessa? Think you got a chance, Knight?"
Arthur seriously considered what his fellow pilot had asked. It wasn't like he was pining after an actress. He still wasn't feeling all that confident, though. She was still in the world of performing arts. There were easily dozens of guys more in tune with her world than him. Maybe it was because Arthur was as plain as a guy came. Average height, average build, average weight, average name and average face. His hair, which had once been longer and at least let him have a prettyboy air about him, was now chopped down to a regulation-fitting RAF haircut. His fellow pilots said he looked more professional with it.
"I'm not gonna overstate my chances. I might have a chance, I might not. I'm smart enough to realize it, though apparently not smart enough to accept it. Last time I saw her was this impromptu reunion between school friends a good mate of mine had cooked up. We had a few drinks, laughed about stupid things, I think maybe we danced but that was as good as it got."
"Can't imagine she wouldn't at least be a bit interested in an officer. The ladies love a man in uniform, and you got a good callsign going for ya."
"Romeo, did ya just forget everything about callsigns? No one ever gets one that's actually cool. It only sounds cool to those who don't know the story behind it. Or you get lucky like Simmer and it's a play on your name." Abel commented. Andrew snorted and ran a hand through his jet-black hair.
"Doesn't mean she has to know."
"She's why I got my callsign. One of my instructors when I was in basic jet training bestowed me with it. Told me I was like some modern-day knight pining after a princess in a high tower." Arthur laughed.
"...You know, for a callsign that's supposed to have an insulting undertone, his explanation sure seems too long." Paul commented following a heavy pause.
"He had a habit of long-winded explanations so he'd be right." Arthur commented. He waited until everyone was chuckling to reveal "She's also why I joined the RAF". That hushed the room almost immediately. Romeo was the first to speak.
"No shit, Knight? Jeez man, I know some people have weird reasons for joining the service but that one sounds straight out of a comic book! At least some of us had the excuse of a war going on...you gotta be joking, right? Ya joking, you cheeky bastard."
"I got my officer's commission in 2002. Was hoping I could present myself as a more mature individual to her." Arthur replied with a grimace.
Romeo opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and gave a wide-eyed nod. Confession is good for the soul was all Arthur could think to himself.
"In my defense, I do have a love for queen and country. Here, I've found a sense of purpose in a time when I felt somewhat listless. I intend to serve until the war's end and likely continue a career if there's a need for me. My great grandfather served in the RAF during The War. I shouldn't have to add that I'm a half-decent pilot." He explained. Before Romeo could say anything else, he added "I mean, why did all of you join the RAF?".
"Fourth-generation officer." Paul commented.
"To prove I am loyal to my new home, and not to my old one in Erusea. I mean, I don't think any of us would be able to argue our cases to one-another. What are we gonna do, though? Go home? Say we quit and be on our way?" Abel replied.
Arthur laughed at that, and Romeo nodded. When he noticed the others were looking at him, he smiled and glanced at his sandals.
"I originally wanted to be an actor." He admitted.
That got some genuine belly laughs, including one from Andrew himself. Arthur felt like he hadn't laughed that good in a long time.
"Theater or movies?" He had to ask.
"I like to think that my callsign could double as a nod to my potential to be a man of the stage. Guess I can't give you too much shit for why you joined the service." Romeo replied.
"It's part of the job. With you guys I think I can allow it. You're not all bad." Arthur winked.
"Well if it doesn't work out, I know a nice redheaded girl. Julia; veterinarian, couple years older than you, likes Tears for Fears and Men at Work, knockers like melons…" Abel suggested.
"You serious, mate?" Arthur asked as he turned back to his desk.
"We junior officers look out for one-another, Knight."
Arthur looked at his stationary again.
"Let me try one more time, and then I think I'd like to meet this Julia." He decided.
"Gotta admire his spirit." Simmer commented.
Arthur looked up at the image of Miss Bernhoff and briefly considered writing to her. He went back to writing Vanessa, but still found the words were having a hard time coming out. He wanted to be blunt, but also wanted to steer away from sounding obsessed or crazy. All that "speak from the heart" bullshit wasn't doing a thing to help him. Eventually he stopped himself again and decided to write to someone else. His family came to mind, along with his two sisters and his grandparents. He hadn't written them in some time with the frantic pace of operations, save for quick emails to let them know he was alive. Now was probably as good a time as ever to get his family up to speed. Maybe the words he wanted to say to Vanessa would come to him after that. His thoughts slowly turned back to the much simpler days of high school, and peaceful times before, well, all of this…
"Enemy armor, find cover!"
The soldier's warning was cut off by the crack of a tank's main gun. The second story of the office building across the street exploded. Leonard rose from behind the rubble to fire on the Erusean troops advancing towards the traffic circle. He ducked down as an enemy machine gun raked his position with rounds. The grenadier from the Section his HQ was with fired a round from his M203 in response. Leonard keyed his radio before he got up to fire again.
"Bravo 1-4, are you in position with those MAGs yet? We need suppressing fire so we can flank that armor!" He barked.
"Just made it to the third floor, Actual. Set up in less than a minute!" His Weapons Section leader, Corporal Leah, assured him.
Leonard motioned his RTO, Private Miller, over and took the handset when it was held out to him.
"Bravo 2 Actual this is Bravo 1 Actual, what's your position?" He asked.
"We're still moving up the street on your right flank. Run into Erusean troops and a second tank trying to do some flanking themselves." Lieutenant Ron McDierre replied.
Leonard acknowledged and gave the handset back. He rose again and caught a fresh squad of Erusean infantry pushing towards the center of the circle. He raised his F88 and centered the sights on a machine gunner. As he pulled the trigger, the tank entered the square and fired in their direction. The round destroyed the top floor of the apartment complex to his right, where Leah and his machine guns were supposed to be.
"Shit…Bravo 1-4, are you okay?" He radioed. There was no reply.
"Bravo 1-4, come in." He repeated, but to no avail.
That didn't leave them with many options. Leonard kept his wits about him as the tank fired another round, and in return a Carl Gustaf team across the street fired on the Erusean tank. He raised his head as a second round got flying, and saw it strike the tank on the side. With the hit dangerously close to its tracks, the M-84 lurched back and began to retreat before it could be knocked out. A soldier next to him started to pull out an AT4 to follow up, but Leonard stopped him.
"Won't kill that thing unless you get around it, mate. Save it." He instructed.
The armor might've pulled back for a second, but the infantry continued to push on their position. Another machine gun opened up from above and to the left. The young man Leonard had been talking to was suddenly thrown back as a few rounds hit him. Leonard fell back just in time to feel the wind of a bullet flashing by where his head had been a millisecond earlier. He growled and took the handset from Miller again.
"Bravo 6. Bravo 6 this is Bravo 1 Actual. We're getting torn apart here! Is there anyone who can help?" He asked.
"Bravo 1, we've been trying to reach help but our FAC reports the Eruseans are peppering the airspace with rounds from Stonehenge. Armored reinforcements from 8th Cavalry are inbound, estimate ten minutes." Major Peterson replied. Fuckin dodgy pricks!
"Roger that!"
"Bravo 1 Actual, hold position; we're going to move up to reinforce you. Keep the Eruseans from getting a foothold until then." Ron urged his friend.
Once he'd acknowledged, Leonard took stock of the section's positions, then left their maintenance to the lead Corporal. He hurried to the nearest entrance to the apartment building, still calling for Leah as he bounded past a pair of broken glass doors. He got to some stairs just as a pair of troopers were carrying a grievously-wounded man out.
"Where's Corporal Leah?" Leonard demanded.
"He's had it, sir! Got blown in half!" The wounded man yelled deliriously.
Leonard growled, then hurried up the stairs to the window at the landing. He spotted Erusean infantry trying to cross the street and leveled his F88 at them.
"Motherfuckers!" He snarled over the reports from the weapon.
The most unhinged insults imaginable echoed in his head as he emptied the magazine on the group of enemy soldiers. He was pulled back by Sergeant Collins.
"What the hell, sir?" He simply shouted. Leonard was ready to protest when Miller announced that Ron was back on the radio.
"Go for Bravo 1 Actual."Leonard said into the handset.
"Bravo 1 Actual, Bravo 2-1 and 2-2 have taken up position around a corner store across from those apartments. We're laying down smoke; get your men across!" Ron replied over the drumming of a MAG.
"Copy, standby!"
Leonard hurried back the way he'd come as another pair of soldiers brought down two more wounded men. He herded the survivors of Bravo 1-4 to the far end of the building's outer wall. There, the street and opposite sidewalk were being rapidly shrouded in a blanket of yellow smoke. Leonard pushed himself up against the apartments and held there until a Minimi gunner reached the scene. Even then, he stayed so he could help cover the crossings.
"Olivia, take your section and move to that crashed helo! We'll start sending wounded across once ya in position!" He bellowed.
Corporal Chris Olivia bolted past him with his men, firing from the hip as he got to an Erusean Hip that'd ended up in the middle of the street. It was just in time to beat back a fresh attack by the Eruseans. As he heard the rumble of another tank coming forward, two Carl Gustafs from Ron's platoon responded just as its silhouette became visible in the mist. Leonard felt charged at the sight; who needed the airy fairies when they had his best friend? He noted that Ron had earned another six-pack of suds as one of the shots caused the tank to stop. As it turned its main gun to respond, another man with an AT4 jumped out and fired at the side of the turret. The tank stopped, then took a third hit from another one of the Gustafs. That seemed to put a stop to it, at least for a few precious minutes.
Leonard and Ron both deployed a smoke grenade to keep up the screen and Leonard sent the first of the wounded across. Leonard ordered his other sections to withdraw closer to him as they moved back to friendly territory. The Eruseans stayed on their side of the street, hopefully weary of a trap. The sound of treads approaching became evident again, which meant he had Miller at his side seconds later.
"Bravo 2 Actual, hearing Erusean armor movin up again. I'm bringing the rest of my men across by Section." Leonard radioed.
"Bravo 6, request those buckets hurry it up!" Ron radioed.
"Six minutes, Bravo 2. Concentrate on linking up with Bravo 1." The Major snapped.
Second Section took the rest of the wounded across while Leonard stayed with first and took up position behind the few cars left in the apartment lot. Once Olivia's Third Section was with 2nd Platoon, Leonard decided it was time to go. He hurried to the Hip with Miller and a Minimi gunner so the others could simply book it across. As he did, the sound of more treads filled his ears. He looked through a break in the smoke to see a BMP-2 emerging from behind the knocked-out tank. The IFV (Infantry Fighting Vehicle) tore into the shops with its 30mm cannon, followed by a second BMP. Leonard reached one of the shops and ducked inside the entryway.
"Bravo 2 Actual, fall back! One of my guys can get a shot with an AT4." He called, not realizing he was using his headset rather than his radio.
Leonard looked around for Miller but couldn't see him. Collins appeared from behind one of the store shelves.
"Collins, until we find some AT, keep falling back to the east towards Bravo 6…and have you seen Miller?" Leonard yelled to him.
"Saw him move into the next shop over, sir." Collins replied.
"Alright. You have your orders, so get moving."
Leonard ran down the sidewalk and found his RTO huddled behind a car that'd crashed into the next store. The young man wordlessly pulled off the handset to give to his commander before standing up to fire on the advancing BMPs. Leonard yanked him back down and keyed the radio to try and reach Ron. When he got nothing, he ducked into the store to find a way out the back. His Platoon formed a new defensive line in the parking lot beyond while elements of 2nd Platoon began to retreat from the BMPs. Leonard hurried to the nearest building they were coming out of to try and get back in contact with Ron. He came upon the man's platoon Sergeant, who was dragging the man out. Leonard went to go and help the man by getting Ron's feet. The second he did, he saw the man had no face…
Leonard felt his stomach churn as he relived that moment. It made him angry, which was what he wanted. He wanted to be fired up and eager to kill. He glared at his reflection in the mirror as he shaved and looked for other things that would piss him off enough. Watching Erusean vehicles stream into the city of Los Canas and not a single ISAF plane to be seen. It was always because of Stonehenge, like the weapon could shut down every meter of airspace all at once. Eight fucking guns had managed to take the entire continent almost single-handedly. Eight guns had led to his family being left behind. His wife, son and daughter, all stuck in limbo. He could only hope they were still alive and unharmed.
Not all hope was lost, however. Colonel Parata had given them the details of their mission. They were going to land on Crowne Beach's southern end and destroy the artillery there. Then they'd cut into that flank of the Erusean defenses and squeeze the fascist assholes out and deeper inland. They'd have an armada of warships to back them up and plenty of the only worthwhile pilots (helo guys). The airy fairies would be along for the ride, but there'd be plenty of people to cover their screwups. This time ISAF would get it right. This time he had to get it right.