The convoy, half a Brigade Combat Team's worth of soldiers and vehicles, rolled through the basin around river Vasel, toward the city they were set to target. Rotor-blades overhead chop-chop-chopped as the Apaches sent in as escorts flew at around the same speed as the rest of the convoy. In the front vehicle, Brad peered through a newly-mounted scope on his rifle. He zeroed it in, murmuring, "Had to give me the ACOG..." before pulling the radio off the top of the box and calling out, "This is HITMAN-4 to all HITMAN and LUCKY elements, maintain dispersion. Don't wanna test if the bastards have mortars or if they've seen us."
'LUCKY' had been the callsign assigned to the Third Regiment, Gallian Militia, by the joint command of UN and Gallia's military back in Forth Amaranthine, with LUCKY-7 being the tag for Seventh Platoon, Welkin, Isara and Alicia's unit. Affirmative radio replies echoed, with SOKOL and other Elements also replying in kind, the vehicles rolling down paved road. As they crested a hill, Ray exclaimed, "Holy shit..."
Ahead it lay. The city of Vasel, its eponymous bridge and river. The city itself, a gathering of medieval-style houses, burned, many of its structures collapsed or collapsing due to the presumably continuous exchange of artillery between units. A pair of M109 SPGs rolled off to the side with support vehicles and the rest of the artillery company, preparing to set up a base of fire against the enemy's positions. They moved right next to the towed artillery of the Gallian Army.
"Goddamn, Brad..." Murmured Ray, "We're really about to turn that town into an even bigger clusterfuck, aren't we?"
"Howitzers from the 1st's artillery company are gonna be on-station to provide support to us, Ray, we're not going in to level the rest of the city..." Brad replied as he shouldered his rifle and peered through the ACOG. He murmured, "Y'know, maybe the scope ain't a bad replacement..." before turning around and hitting Garza in the knee, asking, "The gun all oiled?"
"All in the green, Sarge," The man replied as as he peered down the sights of the Mark 19. He looked up, watching the Kiowas ascending a little. The Scout helis rolled in, flying in with their camera pods, FLIR and the likes to mark enemy units. Behind them, Apaches continued their escorting flight, while the radio report came in. Brad listened and motioned to Ray to take the vehicle to the right, toward a small operations base where the Gallian commanders were billeted.
Disembarking, the members of HITMAN, GODFATHER and LUCKY marched up to the woman in charge of liberating Vasel. The woman, with dark-brown hair caught in a bun on the back of her head and soft blue eyes, turned to the men and gave them a salute. She greeted, "Hello, gentlemen. You must be the officers of that new allied army my father spoke of..."
"Father?" Fick, several other Lieutenants, Captain Varrot and even Godfather himself asked.
She nodded, then winced, "General Georg von Damon... The man who, I heard, annoyed the life out of a pair of your generals to the point they nearly walloped him over the head..." which caused several of the present men and women to furrow their brows. Godfather hummed, scratching his chin, then nodded, with the woman sighing and turning fully to face them. She spoke, "Alas, ignore that little tidbit. I'm Lieutenant-Colonel Amelia von Damon and I'll be your liaison to the Regular Army here... Captain Varrot."
"Ma'am," She nodded, "Lieutenant-Colonel Damon is the sane one of the family, gentlemen..."
"I bet..." Godfather whispered, his voice low due to the throat issue. He turned to the Sergeants and said to them "Form a perimeter and stand by. Lieutenants, on me..."
... Brad and the other Sergeants of the Platoons had done as asked, setting up small OPs around the camp through which they looked at Vasel as it was being hammered by friendly arty and the random Apache. He listened to the radio of his humvee lighting up with chatter from the latter, with one of the pilots calling out, "... Green Zone is cleared for fire. Confirming, one company, infantry, advancing down the main boulevard. GODFATHER Actual, this is EASY Six Actual, engaging enemy with Thirty Mil, stand by."
Ray jumped awake as the rattle of a 30mm echoed from the distance. The Apache closest to the group let loose with the high-caliber autocannon on its undercarriage while another provided target spotting for the M109s in the rear, out of which one fired at a time and about a shot every twenty seconds as counter-battery fire against mortars that landed way too far to do any damage.
"Jesus Christ," Ray murmured, rubbing his eyes, "I'm awake, Army Air Command, fuck off..."
"Flyboys are basically in a turkey shoot right now," Brad commented as he peered through his ACOG at platoons of the armored fellas retreating into the cover of house ruins and rubble. House ruins and rubble that were being hit by Abrams 120s with HEAT. Some times. Other times, it was an M109's shell crashing through the roof and causing the house to implode, or it was Mark 19s from the closer Humvees, or the 25mm Bushmasters from the Bradleys.
"Boring for us, good for them," Trombley shot back, then scratched his cheek, "Think we'll be going in soon, Sergeant?"
"Soon enough, Trombley... Godfather just has to hash it out with Lieutenant-Colonel Damon," Bradley replied calmly, humming and noting that a Sniper was looking back at them. He aimed and was about to take a pop, before the snap-crack-pop of a friendly rifle beside him rang out and the Knight's helmet was flung off his head. He looked over to who took the shot and saw a young woman with short, raven hair was sat down, rifle stabilized on a set of sandbags.
She lifted and pulled back the bolt of her rifle, letting the spent 8mm casing eject off to the side. She slammed the bolt home and slung the weapon onto her back as she stood up, before looking to Brad. He lowered his rifle and quirked up a brow at the sharpshooter, who gave a nod to him, dark eyes filled with a kind of determination and killer instinct the likes of which one would only ever see in crackshot snipers.
"Hot damn," Ray whistled, looking at the girl as she walked away, "Not only is she hot as fuck, she's a badass..."
"Lucky shot," Trombley disregarded, grinning, "Don't tell me you're falling in love with her, Ray."
"Ya kidding, Whopper Junior?" Ray grinned, "No way, Jose. I just wanna get some of that... Though, then again, maybe not a good idea," He winced, "Who knows what kinda shit she's into..." to which Brad and Rolling Stones both laughed, while Trombley shook his head, grinning as he shouldered his 249. Garza, meanwhile, hummed a tune as he quietly lobbed a grenade or two with the Mk. 19.
"Wouldn't recommend going for Marina," Joked a familiar voice. The men looked over to see Alicia had walked up to them, rifle slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face. She told them, "Apparently, the girl really likes going at it alone."
"Damn, solo, huh?" Ray sighed, "Shame, but oh, well. What about ya, Sarge?" And he wiggled his eyebrows.
Despite the slight blush, the girl chuckled and replied, "I'm alright for now, Ray. Don't know if the military allows it anyhow and you're not my type..." Which caused Brad to burst into laughter. Trombley let out a holler himself, as did Garza and Rolling Stones, while Ray rolled his eyes. Alicia chuckled, a little awkward, and said, "Sorry about that..." before humming and turning as she heard footsteps.
"Brad, Ray, your radio," Fick spoke as he marched up to them. Brad nodded and handed him the transmitter. Behind him, Welkin was present. He gave the boys a wave, to which they nodded back welcomingly. He joined Alicia while Fick called in, "Actual to all HITMAN Elements, prepare to roll out into the city. Strategy is as follows:Two Bradleys and two Abrams will be covering us as we enter the town, column, same way we went through Ramadi. Guns up and waste anyone popping out of a window. Meanwhile, LUCKY-7 will be hitting the enemy's flanks. Vehicular assault to the main town square. Remain mounted 'till we hit the Square and then dismount and swarm them. We deal with the troops there and we've knocked out their forces on this bank of the Vasel river. ACTUAL Out."
He looked to Brad and told him, "Keep your eyes open and hit'em hard, Brad. You and your victor are leading," before patting him on the shoulder and racking the bolt of his rifle. Brad sighed and gave a salute to the man, who then walked away. Alicia looked apologetically to the Sergeant and his friends, before she and Welkin waved and walked back to their tank.
"Garza, keep your head down and fire at anything that so much scoffs wrong at us. I want those rounds on target," Brad stated as he pulled on the charging handle of his rifle and looked into the chamber. He let the bolt slam forward after confirming he had a round and prepped. The group watched the Seventh Platoon moving around the side, toward a side road of the city. Meanwhile, the frontal assault meant that the Humvees would have to punch clean through while their supporting Abrams, helicopters and the two Bradleys leading.
The Abrams pulled up to the edge of the hill and opened up, fifty calibers and 120mm cannons letting loose. The Bradleys took the tip of the spear, while another Bradley moved to join Squad 7 on the assault. The M109s continued firing sporadically toward the enemy, whose mortars had already been silenced, with Brad bracing. He told Ray, "Keep us as steady as possible, Ray! All Hitman Victors, we're moving in!"
The staggered column formed behind the two IFVs whose 25mm cannons let loose in bursts that shook the very ground. HE rounds struck facades, tearing what was left of concrete and brick that hanged by a thread as they entered the town. The Humvees rolled in behind them while the forward lines of the Imperial defense poked out, firing rifles and machine guns at them.
Bullets sparked off the Humvees' hulls, while Brad scoped in and fired at the enemy. Moments later, distant gunfire echoed just across from them as the Seventh Platoon presumably engaged in its assault. Garza swiveled about and fired the 40mm, while Fifty-cal MGs roared from the other Humvees. The Abrams' shells tore through buildings, levelling various cover positions around the US Assault Unit.
Above, Apaches rolled in while Kiowas scouted out targets, thirty-millimeter autocannons and Hydras laying waste to the areas a few blocks over on each side of the convoy. A bullet sparked by Rolling Stones' ear and he cried out, "Jesus fuck!" as he ducked. Trombley, to his left, laughed a little as he fired his Two-Four-Niner, his rounds tearing apart bricks and enemy units that poked their heads out of the doors to fire at them.
Ray ducked as a bullet sparked off the hood of their Humvee and said, "This is worse than Ramadi!" before watching one of the Bradleys turn its turret fully to the left and fire a burst. A side street exploded and a hint of red mixed in with the smoke, presumably from the men that it'd killed. Another round struck and partially cracked the windshield while Garza swiveled about, his Mark 19 thunk-thunk-thunking.
Walls blew out as the Imps tried to take cover behind them, Garza noting, "Ain't no way this is normal! These guys don't look like they even got AT!"
"Thank fuck they don't!" Ray snapped back as he looked to his left. He called out, "Trombley! ROOF!" to which the gunner swiveled his LMG up and let loose a burst. Blood spewed out of wounds and what was now a corpse fell over the edge with five bullet holes clean through his armor. The usual joker called out, "Good shit, you fucking psycho! Keep it up!"
"Keep up the assault! Steady as she goes!" Brad yelled, then pulled a 203 round from his belt and slotted it into the launcher, slammed the tube closed and fired it at a building. The Mark 19's thumps were deafened by the cannonade of mixed automatic and semi-automatic firearms, grenades, explosives and various other roaring thunder types. A hiss-pop-snap echoed and a TOW Missile on a wire screamed out from the tube of one of the Bradleys.
Something exploded up the main boulevard from the impact, with Garza calling out, "Holy fuck, they just busted a barricade with that TOW!" then ducked as a bullet rang his bell by hitting the top of his helmet. He swore to himself as he dived under the roof of the Humvee and checked his helmet, with Brad turning toward him while wearing the concern he felt on his face, the adrenaline making him unable to keep a straight face.
Garza gave his Sarge a nod and said, "I'm alright! Just rang my bell hard! Kevlar took it!" before he slapped the helmet back on, made sure to clip it shut and stood back tyo his feet. He racked the bolt of the Mark 19 as they advanced past the burning wreck of the hastily-erected barricade:A destroyed Imperial Light Tank. He had no time to stare at the corpses or the burning husk, turning the Mark-19 onto one house and letting it rip. He cratered the facade just as an Apache swung in above them, its 30mm firing ahead of the convoy and joining the Bushmasters.
Hydras also left the tubes, a wall of detonations causing a smoke-screen ahead. More corpses piled on the side of the road, fifties tearing Imps in half while 40mm grenades broke their cover and forced them into the open. One Imperial Soldier stumbled out of cover in front of their humvee and was promptly run over, a sickening crunch echoing below the wheels as the vehicle jumped like it went over a speed bump.
"Jesus fucking Christ! And this is the shit our boys are dealing with in Fallujah?!" Ray yelled as they passed through the impromptu smoke screen, letting out a cough the moment they breached it.
Brad replied, "Nope! In Fallujah, the enemy's not uniformed! Insurgents of some kind! The poor bastards don't have a fucking clue who they're shooting!"
"Lucky fucking us!" Trombley snapped as he ducked to reload his MG. Garza dipped into the hold as well, grabbing a box of 40mm grenades to swap out with the empty one, which he threw inside with a clang. Rolling Stones, meanwhile, held onto the vehicle's crash cage like his life depended on it. Which it did, in truth. He watched Brad drop a spent magazine to the floor, only to slap in a fresh one and hit the bolt release before wasting another bastard.
As the vehicles reached the end of the road, the Bradleys swiveled about, one covering the entrance into the town square, while the other turned to cover the main road. Apaches overhead fired Hellfires toward the other side of the river and also fired their thirties to dissuade the Imps from trying to support their comrades on this side with mortar fire.
As the first Humvee reached the front, Brad called out, "First HITMAN Victors at dismount point! OUT!" As he propped open the door and utilized it for cover. Bullets sparked off the armor as the men piled out, with Rolling Stones diving behind the car and using his camera to photograph the engagement. The town square up ahead was a wide open affair, split by a park area, benches, makeshift sandbag fortifications and the likes.
The group dismounted alongside the infantry from the Bradleys, whose 25mms still let loose. Taking cover behind the transports as the rest of HITMAN dismounted, Brad and a couple of other Sergeants were met by Fick, who took cover behind the Bradley and peered past it. A bullet struck and ricocheted too close to his face, the copper jacket leaving a scratch on his cheek. He looked to Brad and said, "I want a base of fire! Brad, get ten men and push around the Bradleys and into the Town Hall! Everyone else, keep your eyes peeled so we can hook up with the Gallians!"
A thundering roar from a main cannon echoed and a Light Tank burst into blue flames. Fick peered over and radioed, "Lieutenant Gunther, that you!?" only to see the tank cresting the ramp and entering the park area, under cover by half a Platoon's worth of infantry. Brad snorted and shook his head, a smile on his face. He rallied up Ray, Trombley, Garza and another few men, before they moved to the right of the Bradley.
A pair of Imps, one of which was manning an MG, were taken by surprise by the Americans advancing into their cover and doming them. Brad jumped over their cover as Alicia, Rosie and another pair of Shock Troopers made it up to them. With a few chops of his hand, Brad signaled for the group of 10 he had selected to form a perimeter, Trombley engaging the enemy in the square. It was a pincer worthy of praise.
Rosie took the other side of the door with Alicia to breach, while Brad and Ray were on the other. Brad gave a quick three-two-one countdown with his fingers, then kicked the door open. Ray pushed in first, rifle already ringing, while bursts of automatic fire left Rosie's SMG as she went in. Alicia fired from behind her, the two units crossing each-other as they entered.
Ray called out, "Rooms! Right!" as they pushed. He kicked one door open, took cover as bullets rang out from it and threw a frag inside. The thump muffled the scream of the enemy inside as he and another Marine pushed in, while Brad and Garza took the next room, another pair of Marines took the next and so on and so forth. Surgically, the platoons cleared the place as the gunfire outside began to die down.
Alicia had watched the entire engagement. Watched. She couldn't really intervene and stop the Marines from doing their jobs. The efficiency with which they cleared house had left even Rosie and her Shock Troopers, the close quarters specialists of the Gallian military, stunned. And they were supposed to be able to do this type of thing rather easily, or so they thought as they watched the Sergeant and his men file out into the square.
Alicia told Brad, "You guys are scary. You know that, right?"
"Efficient, too," Brad nodded, "Move fast and you can clear out an area. It's why we negotiate most of our engagements with fragmentation grenades when it comes to buildings..." then turned and gave Fick a salute as they met. He told the man, "AO is clear, sir. I heard over radio that the stragglers around are getting wiped out now by the Army infantry."
"Accurate," Fick answered, arranging his uniform as his RTO moved up and handed him a map. As he looked over it, he told them, "Command will want us finding a way to ford the river soon, clear out the other bank and take the control shed... Push the Imps out with armor afterward," only to look to Alicia, "Lieutenant Gunther's already thinking of a plan he's going to relay to Command when we get a chance to. Radio orders are to hang tight and dig in."
"Aye, sir," Alicia replied, "I, Rosie and the others will go join the Platoon."
Fick gave her a nod of approval. The two saluted each-other, with Rosie and her Shock Troops still seemingly surprised. Fick turned around to face the area as the RTOs and Drivers moved the vehicles into the square, before asking Brad, "Was it bad in there? You guys expended all of your grenades..." as he shifted his own M16A4 onto his back after setting it to safe.
"Honestly, sir?" Brad snorted, "Could've been worse... A bit too close quarters for my tastes, though."
"Get used to it. Apparently, the other side's worse," Fick told him, then hummed and said, "Dig in for the day. Have some chow. Dismissed."
"Sir, yessir," Brad sighed.