Alicia and Welkin strode the halls of their new home for the foreseeable future. Fort Amaranthine was abuzz with activity as the Third Regiment of Militia was activated. The two, a Sergeant and Lieutenant for the Seventh Platoon of the Regiment, marched toward their barracks as they prepared for their first operation. Word had also spread fast among the crowds of Militiamen about the UN, their new arrivals.
Alicia murmured, "Talk about quick-travelling news..." as she slung her Gallian M4 Rifle over her shoulder. The M4 was a semi-automatic, magazine-fed rifle firing 7,92mm rounds. It had the usual wood stock you'd expect out of weapons born in 1935, unlike their allies' counterparts which seemed to use a lot of plastic in their designs. Polymers, they called them.
Welkin hummed in agreement, then added, "When an alien force arrives and offers to help, it's all the buzz..." as they walked with personnel files for 7th Platoon in hand. Their squad had gathered outside, by the Edelweiss, it seemed, a group of about 20 infantry for now. Their platoon's size would apparently vary for day-to-day operations, but they'd never go below twenty people unless someone died.
Walking out into the courtyard of the administrative building of the massive fort, the pair saw the group already chatting amongst themselves as Isara tended to their tank. One of the people in the crew, a tanned older man with the build of a bear, looked over to them and scoffed, scratching his strange facial hair as he told a redhead older woman beside him, "Pair of greenhorns, huh..."
"Hoping they won't get us and the other kids killed," The Redhead shot back, arms crossed to her armored chest. She added, "Then again, they're the ones who first met these new allies we keep hearin' rumors about. Could pay to ask'em what we should expect out of the new allied force... Been a month since they've been in country as it is and they're barely now mobilizing..."
"Chunks of their troops were already engaging around the southern front, as rumor has it. Held back a thousand Imps with just five tanks and about a hundred infantry," The man snorted, then slid a cigar between his lips and said, "I'll believe their bullshit when I see it..." as he lit said cigar. The redhead turned to the other kids around them, all of whom were seemingly cleaning up their newly-given equipment.
Good. Least they were professional. She cast a sideways glance at the Darkie working on their tank and murmured, "Hope she won't be a bother..." before the entire group stood to attention. Their two officers stared at the group of gathered troops, whom Isara now joined by standing in-line with the younger kids, with Welkin snapping a quick salute. The group saluted back, some of them warily.
And Welkin began to speak, "Good afternoon, folks. I'm Welkin Gunther and I'll be your Lieutenant for the next few months. This beside me is Sergeant Alicia Melchiott, one of my executive officers. We're just hoping to get through this war with everyone in the squad alive, so let's make sure we watch each-other's backs out there, alright...? If you have any questions, feel free to ask'em now, then I'll do a quick roll call."
The buff man raised his hand and Welkin gave him a nod. He spoke to them, "Afternoon, El-Tee. I'm Largo Potter. The other Sarge in the unit. Hope you kids know how to fight if shit hits the fan..." with a bit of a challenging tone. Welkin didn't fall for it, simply nodding, while Alicia seemed to glare at him. Largo, for all his credit, ignored it. His friend then raised her hand and Welkin gave her the word.
"Corporal Brigitte Stark. Call me Rosie if y'wanna. Hope you kids know this ain't a play or a game. We're not here to have fun or be chatty, we're here to win a war," The girl spoke with a similarly challenging tone.
"We know," Welkin nodded, "We've seen what happens in war firsthand at Bruhl... We'll be ready for whatever comes."
"Sure hope so, kid," Rosie replied with a murmur. Alicia was about to step in and demand something from them, an explanation for the behaviors, but the distant, loud roar of engines filled their ears, with the drone of air assets to boot. Everyone jumped to their feet, then scrambled out toward the front of Fort Amaranthine, only to spot it:A Column of armored fighting vehicles rolled in.
Main Battle Tanks led the procession of several hundred vehicles, their 120mm cannons pointed up at the sky, the woodland camouflage paint barely drying in the heat of the Spring sun. Behind them, smaller tanks with surprisingly thin cannons rolled in as well, mounting boxes to the sides of their turrets that looked like they folded outward, not to mention armor that looked tough as hell.
Next in the procession came four-wheeled armored cars with men mounting heavy weapons on an unprotected top turret, followed by ten-ton trucks with tarps covering tonnes of supplies on their backs, or carrying infantry platoons, or even fuel in heavy-duty tankers. Last in the ground procession were massive self-propelled artillery pieces and what looked to be even more trucks, though these ones had a multitude of barrels, plus other models of armored vehicles, cars and trucks, capped off at the end by more tanks that looked different from the leads.
What was more terrifying than the allied ground force's arrival, however, was the dozen aircraft flying overhead. Their quad-rotors chopped through the wind, kicking up dust clouds that mixed with the clouds. Some where black and sleek and others, fat and tough, both carrying troops. Others were heavily armed, pods with missiles and rockets hanging off wing mounts and heavy cannons mounted just below the nose. Yet more were two-rotor, heavy-duty, bus-looking and carrying even more supplies or troops.
As the vehicles veered right, Captain Varrot walked out, eyes wide. The woman, a veteran of the First Europan War, arranged her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she watched the first tank roll through Amaranthine's gates. On one of its mud skirts was painted a triangle emblem with yellow, red and blue, with a 1 in the middle of the yellow part and, below, a cannon and lightning crossed.
The armored vehicles and their supporting logistics elements rolled into the courtyard and parked themselves to allow for a quick exit, logistics going to the rear of the assembly area. Helicopters touched down, disembarking the troops they were carrying, or just landing to reload and refuel. Finally, the four-wheeler Humvees rolled forward, dead ahead of the assembled Squads of the Third Regiment, stopping in front of captain Varrot.
A single man, clad in M81 PASGT woodland camo, descended from the middle, unarmed Humvee. He bore rank pins on his collar denoting the rank of a colonel and had the face to match it. Marching up to captain Varrot, he received a salute from the woman and, in turn, he saluted back and spoke, "At ease, Captain. I'm Colonel Tom Harris, here under orders from Major General Sanchez, First Armored Division. We also have elements of the First Marines and allied troops from the United Nations Mission for Gallia."
Russian troops dismounted from their transports and lined up, reporting in front of Colonel Smirnoff, who gave them a quick examination. Varrot noted the other allied countries by their flags, though she knew none of them. She calmly replied, "It is our pleasure to have you in Fort Amaranthine, Colonel. General Schwarzkopf sent ahead to tell us you'd be arriving."
"Glad to see we're expected," He replied jokingly, then told her, "I'd like an office to set up my own command. Adjacent to yours if possible, so we have an easier line of com."
"Understood. Right this way, sir," She motioned to him to follow. The man then waved to the rest of his command staff, which dismounted from Humvees and HEMTT trucks with their weapons slung over their shoulders. As the rest of the crew went to park the vehicles closer to the door, two very familiar faces came toward Welkin and Alicia, one of them with arms open wide and a grin.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Ray Person greeted, grinning ear-to-ear, "What's good, homies?"
"Ray," Alicia snorted.
Welkin smiled, "Been a while, guys."
"Certainly has been, Lieutenant," Brad snorted. He noticed some of the local Militia troops staring at them, including the other Sergeant and that Stark girl, before turning back to Welkin and telling him, "So, First Recce's being stuck with you guys for the time being. Third Reg's apparently gonna go for a combined arms approach with the rest of the First Armored and a few other units."
"So, we're working with Armored elements from the US Army," Alicia hummed, "Considering we saw what an Abrams tank can do to an Imp Light..."
"Oh, just you wait, girl," Ray smirked, "One of'em's gonna put the fear of God and the United States Armored into even the heaviest tank those knight faggots got out there," and he hefted his bag, "Anyway, you guys know where we're camping? Command wasn't very forthcoming with info about where barracks are in this big-ass Fort of yours, at least not for us."
"You forgot that the SeaBees are building up infrastructure," The Sergeant sighed deeply, "Why am I not surprised?"
"Hey, look, homes, I don't keep tabs on the 'Bees like you do. They at least building Highways?" His RTO replied, crossing his arms to his chest. Indeed, in the distance, another small convoy arrived with construction equipment on HEMTT trailers and started rolling said construction equipment out near an unoccupied area of the Gallian Fort, beginning their construction work there.
"Uh, guys?" Alicia started, "What are Sea Bees?"
"... Oh, you sweet summer child," Brad voiced jokingly, then explained, "CB. Construction Battalion. Navy's own engineers, designers, demolitionists, electricians and the likes, all of which carry machine guns into battle," before motioning to the site they were using as a construction area. Everyone looked over to where the men were working to see them all hauling gear alongside their gear. That gear being construction gear and military gear respectively.
"Wow..." Welkin hummed, then snorted, "Good to know..." before he turned back to see Isara staring at the flying vehicles they brought in. It took him a moment to remember that, yes, they had just seen vehicles that could take off and land vertically and that were toting armaments and transport capabilities. He looked over to the rows of landed vehicles in the courtyard, then asked, "For my sister's sake, what are those...?"
"Apaches, Black Hawks, Chinooks," Ray said, "Attack and transport helos, to be exact. Hawks and Nooks transport the boys and gear. Apaches make the enemy think some sorta angels are coming down on his ass with all the hellfire and brimstone you can think of," And he looked toward the others. He hummed as he saw Garza, Trombley and even Rolling Stones disembark.
The reporter seemed to surprise everyone, clearly, though it wasn't just him that stunned the group. The other men and women of the Marines approached, rifles slung over their shoulders as they carried provisions to their own little corner of the fort, preparing to build their barracks and tents. Honestly, were it not for the fact Ray knew that the First Div would also be arriving soon(First Marines, not first Army) they'd be going to help. But several thousand extra hands were bound to be givin' the boys exactly what they needed.
Another pair of helicopters rolled up to the FOB, with Brad murmuring, "Oh, fuck's sake, here we go..." as he watched them swing in for landing. They bore a star between two scarlet stripes with gold outlines, alongside a Chinese character in the middle, not to mention the dark-blue spot camo of a certainly-familiar Communist unit. Brad looked to Ray and told him, "Tell everyone else to be ready... The Chinese Delegation is here."
Just as he said that, Lieutenant Fick marched up to the group, looking at the helicopters as they unloaded a platoon's worth of People's Liberation Army Navy Marines(Fucking mouthful, that one), then said, "Well... Took them a while to get up to the FOB, didn't it...?" as he turned to face the Gallians. He saluted Welkin and said, "Lieutenant Gunther, Sergeant Melchiott. Congratulations on your promotions. Hope HITMAN and the Seventh are going to work well together."
Welkin and Alicia both saluted back, with Welkin stating, "Likewise, lieutenant Fick," and smiling. He motioned to the Chinese troops and said, "They familiar to you?"
"That would be the People's Liberation Army Navy Marines," Fick stated, to which the entire group of Gallians stared at him, dumbfound. He looked to them and said, "The PLA is the Chinese Military's all-encompassing term. I don't know why they could not go with just calling them the Liberation Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines, but at this point in time, nobody wants to know what's in the Chairman's brain."
"Hopefully, a bullet," Trombley murmured as he stared at them approaching. Their officer, a young woman, stepped up to them like she was on parade, QBZ-95 Assault Rifle slung over her shoulder. She and Lieutenant Fick met midway and gave each-other a curt, respectful salute. The Marine Gunner looked to Rosie and Largo in the meanwhile and asked both of'em, "Did you fuckers come out of a Dutch escort catalog or some shit?"
"What?!" Both of them balked.
"That was outta pocket," Snorted Alicia. Well, if she couldn't snap back at them just yet, at least seeing a Yank do it would help.
"One of'em's got his chest puffed out and looks like some jackboot retard you'd find ploughing the fields in Russia and the other looks like a bimbo in a uniform," Trombley commented, garnering glares out of both of them. He said, "Then again, not like much of your Militia looks any more normal, considering your chicks are wearing skirts instead of actual pants. These two just stand out."
"Listen here, kid-" Largo started.
Brad stepped up in front of him and asked, "There gonna be a problem, Sergeant? Because if yes, you can take it up with me, rank to rank," before turning back to Trombley and telling him, "Stow the remarks for now, Trombley. We're not here to cause a fight with the people we're gonna be working with..." even if some of them look like they deserve a good punch, was what the good Marine sergeant wanted to cap it off with, but he was here to mediate. Noting that they, too, backed off, he sighed deeply.
"Yes, sir," Trombley replied with a quick salute, then turned to check his LMG. Ray worked to stifle his laughter beside him.
"Your men really aren't well-mannered, Sergeant..." One of the Gallian snipers remarked coolly, a girl with short black hair that had a fringe over her left eye. She stared at the man with dark, cold eyes that betrayed some hint of amusement at the quips, but kept it well-enough hidden not to cause their NCOs' attention to be diverted her way. Combined with a face that resembled a mask of stone, it made Brad feel like he was looking at a robot.
He replied to her, "We're Marines, shooter. Manners ain't in the playbook."
She huffed through her nose, though it sounded more like she was amused. She gave a nod and turned back to checking her rifle. Isara, meanwhile, jumped off her tank and walked up to the Sergeant, a smile on her face as she asked, "Sergeant Colbert, can I please go see those 'helicopters'? I've been interested in flying since I was a little girl, but never got to!"
"Provided your eltee is cool with it, I can take you to see them and talk to the aircrews," The man nodded, causing the girl's eyes to light up. While Welkin offered a kind smile, Rosie scoffed and rolled her eyes, which caught Brad's attention, but he didn't comment on it. The group then watched the Russian VDV roll in now on BMP-2s, BRDMs and BTR-80s, alongside the rest of the Eastern Militaries' detachments.
Welkin hummed and stated observantly, "There's bullet marks on some of the vehicles..."
"The VDV and the Eastern Corps actually had their first taste of combat in the South, too. Pomorenko and his men told us about it. Turns out their cooperation with their former Allies never really faded, but there's a history there that those 'allies' were more-so puppet states," He explained, "Now, we have a couple who're adhering to our own alliance, NATO."
"Your people sure have colorful histories..." Alicia stated, crossing her arms to her chest.
Brad snorted, "If only you knew how colorful, Melchiott..." words which made Alicia pause for a moment. He explained, "Just the last 200 years have been probably more littered with industrial-scale mass warfare than you've had in these past decades. We had two World Wars, just like you guys have right now, a Cold War between us and the aforementioned 'allies' of Russia... And now, Wars on Terror and Wars against Dictators..."
"Makes you really think just how fucked the sitch is, eh?" Ray commented, "Iraq, Afghan. Really feels like we ain't really doing shit."
"We're trying," Brad sighed, then, while holding onto his vest as his NV-scoped M4 with a grenade tube hanged off his shoulder, he added a jovial, "But, whatever. New prerogative and we ain't invading a sandy shithole, this time. We're helping defend a nice country with somewhat nice people and apparently beautiful scenery." all while grinning. He was really thankful their woodland cammies were getting proper use for fucking once.
"Dawg, the chicks ain't half-bad either," His friend shot back, grinning. He gave a wink to one of the girls in Squad 7, a blonde with glasses, who blushed and immediately hid her face. He then checked his M4 and watched as Fick was coming back with the Chinese Lieutenant, asking, "What're we lookin' at in terms of support from the Chinese, eh, El-Tee?"
"An IBCT, in your terms," The Chinese Lieutenant responded in Fick's stead, her accent heavy, "I am Lieutenant Xiu-Yan Zhao, PLAN Marines Tenth Company. An honor to work with First Recon and our newfound comrades in arms," before she gave a nod to Welkin and Alicia. She then straightened up and added, "I'm rather new to the command role myself, so I will entrust Lieutenant Fick and you all to help us."
"Hey, any extra guns are welcome," Ray commented, "Just make sure you don't shoot us in the back, comrade."
"Would not dream of it," She snorted, "We'll be bringing up rearguard most of the operations that follow, anyway."
"Gotcha," Ray nodded, then whispered, "My point exactly," to Trombley. That made him grin. More supply vehicles arrived, these ones KAMAZ, with the Yankee from the South noting, "Goddamn, is this place getting a lil' crowded. Those are Ukrainian trucks," as he shifted his kit a little, "Eh, fuck it. Brad, I'm going in the Humvee. Gonna take a nap before they give us the order to deploy to whatever op they want us in."
"Alright," Brad gave a nod, then looked to Fick and asked, "Sir, we got an MO?"
"Free-fire zone in most of the AO, according to general Schwarzkopf. Anything that's hostile gets pre-emptively slapped around by us and the Army's tanks," Fick stated, then clarified, "Only places we're not allowed free-fire unless we PID the targets is cities. Risk of Civvie Casualties is a little high... Oh, by the way, Fallujah 2 started, since we're on city talks."
"Shit, seriously?" Trombley commented, "That's gonna be a fucking pain in the ass to clear."
"Command agrees, but they're still trying. We got Marines who're getting issued new scopes now. ACOGs from Trijicon, apparently," Fick shrugged, "Maybe we'll get some, too, for ops here..." then he turned to the Reporter, to see him writing. He asked, "Mister Wright. Find our conversations interesting enough to stay quiet?" to which the man gave a smile and a nod.
"That's a reporter?" Rosie scoffed, then snorted, "Damn, guess every military unit gets stuck with babysitting duty, eh?"
"Rolling Stones ain't bad when you get to know him," Brad shot back, "Problem is getting to know him..." and he grinned at the man, who chuckled and shook his head as he wrote in the details. The group was about to start up another chat, but all paused and turned to salute the Colonel and Captain as they walked out. He seemed serious, as did captain Varrot.
"First operation is up. 1st Armored and 1st Marines will be supporting Gallia's 3rd Regiment and the Army in retaking an important city with a major bridge. Said bridge acts as an MSR for the Southern Front and a straight shot toward the capital city of Gallia," The colonel stated, "We'll be preparing a briefing and departing by tomorrow at oh-six hundred hours. Callsigns, troop disposition and targets for each unit will be assigned as we move. Colonel Smirnoff's deploying their Separate Reconnaissance Battalions ahead to scout out enemy positions."
"Time to get back in the saddle, then, sir," Fick stated, "First Recon gonna take point on this?"
"You and Seventh Platoon will be the first ones in the shit, Lieutenant Fick. Make it work," The man replied with a nod, then saluted and told them, "Dismissed. Get some shuteye, get some grub and start preparing," and he and Captain Varrot walked off to inspect the rest of the Regiment. Welkin hummed, then nodded and turned to start the roll call for the 20 people they'd called up to the Platoon. He gave Brad the go-ahead to take Isara to see the Helicopters, which he took by leading her there.
The crews were unsurprisingly friendly, especially to someone as giddy as Isara. A very young prodigy engineer who wanted to learn all there was about this stuff, looking over the weapons, the engines and even getting to sit behind the flight controls for one. A young co-pilot/gunner suggested, "Maybe we'll give her a quick flight when we're back from the op we've got."
"I'm sure she'd like that," Brad snorted, watching the girl examine the displays with the widest smile on her face. It was literally like a kid in a candy shop, the way she acted. Some part of Brad wondered why the hell they never developed viable aircraft, then the thought switched to something else. Little Sis probably didn't know that they even had satellites, or stuff in space. If a helicopter blew her mind this much, that would probably cause her to need a reboot. The pilot and co-pilot watched the girl jump out, while Brad considered what sort of story to tell first. Yuri Gagarin? The Moon Landings? Columbia, Enterprise and Challenger?
Something to tell tales about when they'd be back.