An Unwinnable War
Episode 1 - A World of Bloody Evolution? SURE!
March 1, 1977
2 years after the Vietnam War
"Our peoples... are united in this determination, to take all necessary measures in support of freedom and in defense of peace... in Remnant."
- President James Earl Carter, publicly authorizing the intervention of the American Army into Remnant, 1978.
Memoirs of 1st Lt. Jay 'Raptor' Ruben;
"I think that the day I was sent to, uh, the 86th, was it? Yeah, the day I was sent there was when I had the weirdest things hit me like a brick. I was just called from Army Reserve for an emergency mobilization order over back in Vermont. Get this; we were the only unit that wasn't the Z-Team of the U.S. Military. And by Z-Team, we really mean 'we're okay but the Chiefs of Staff hate us' kind of Z-Team. We're the dollar store B-Team. We weren't even supposed to do anything, just sit around, train in tanks for a bit, and maybe shoot at something. Well, I was assigned to one of the newer M48s. M48A5. The one with the one-oh-five."
"But when we were called alongside the... crap, was the 172nd called alongside us? Shit, I can't recall. But yeah, we were called in alongside another Armor Regiment. We were stationed near St. Johnsbury's, for a training exercise. I was just finishing my commander certification when we were called in. At first, it was something about Johnsbury's Mayor requesting the National Guard due to unrest, but as I was preparing to move out it changed to panicked screamin' and asking where the hell the 86th was. Same with the 172nd. We organized a response force as fast as possible, tossing our M48s into a fire we didn't know what to expect from."
"And I never knew that after Johnsbury, I'd be dragged into esoteric nonsense, especially after I ordered a charge into the forest with only like seven other tanks to support my assault and the people beyond that boundary. Then, well, as we all know it, next - the Unwinnable War. Named for just being two years shy of our humiliation back in Saigon. Yeah, the rest of the 86th weren't great with morale. Or with naming. And unfortunately, it stuck, so in '78, even the papers called it an 'Unwinnable War' much to my hate."
"And it was honestly an ironic name if you ask us after our deployment."
Jay Ruben - Forward Operating Base 'F-N' - March 1, 1977 - 5:30 AM
Ruben could only sit and drink out of his canteen as the rest of his team were finishing up the touches of the FOB. The base was established near St. Johnsbury, some local town up here in Vermont. And while he voted for a more formal name, the rest of his group went for the simple name. The name that would just hammer in the sheer competency of his unit. They picked an eloquent, simple, and verbose name for the forward operating base that would strike fear into the hearts of the enemy, and inspire courage, duty, and honor within his unit.
Wait, no, they just called it 'Fort Night' and called it a day. Jay was the only one within the ENTIRE garrison of Fort Night to protest the name because of how dull it was, but then everyone else pointed out that this was a Fort. Constructed at Night. Dealing with poor visibility left them no choice but to call the place Fort Night in protest. And Jay, unfortunately, couldn't send his friends slash squadmates to Leavenworth for naming a FOB 'Fort Night'. He was going to kill them for that, but at least, he'd probably do it someday and not right now.
"If you construct another FOB and call it 'Fort Night 2' I am going to rip your tongue off."
"Look, Jay, we constructed it in the middle of the night. What else were we going to call it? Fort Day?"
"I hope you die on impact the next time I ram a tank into a tree, Devin."
And Devin laughed his threat off as he went back to delivering supplies. Jay, however, wasn't entirely serious with his threats either. He's gone with worse jokes, either them being, to quote himself directly; 'I will shit yourself' or some form of 'Don't let me get killed by a mortar, or I will shove you in a TV Dinner.' with a few snickers from the rest of his group. He's been in the 86th for only half a year, but he calls his presence with the FOB an 'unprivilege', and his presence was dragging down the FOB with him. To be entirely fair to Jay, his group also had the same thoughts, but like him, they didn't really care that much - aside from swearing and threatening to shit each other.
To be precise, his group was a tank platoon from the 1st Battalion, 172nd Armored, 86th Armored Brigade. The rest of the FOB also came from 1st Bn 172nd Armored, totalling to forty-two personnel. Ten to maintain the tanks and equipment, and thirty-two to operate the tanks. Their HQ Company was off north, to someplace unknown. The rest of the 86th were scattered across Vermont.
As Jay continued to drink out of his canteen, his peaceful thoughts that came after threatening to castrate Devin's mouth were interrupted when he saw smoke belching out of a trench line within FOB Fort Night. And it made him dent his canteen out of sheer anger at the incompetence of his people. How the hell...
"Oh my god..." Jay was about to scream at the sight before him after he finished threatening to rip Devin's tongue out for creating Fort Night.
"What the hell happened to the goddamn Patton?!" Jay made his palm meet his face as he saw an M48 Patton stuck on a trench dug in the FOB, wedged between it and with members of the garrison attempting to lift it up collectively to no avail. Two people were on the front and rear of the vehicle. And about zero of them managed to unwedge the goddamn tank.
"Sir! Sergeant Taylor tried to move over the trenches, but they were too wide, so he got wedged in between!"
"You actual oxygen-wasting, cock-sucking, maggot-eating, dumb grinning idiots! How in the hell do you manage to force a Patton into a FUCKING defensive trenches?! This isn't Khe Sanh!" That was what he wanted to scream towards the guys lifting a Patton. But, rather than acting more like a drill sergeant, Jay instead opted to act disappointed, but not surprised. His assignment may have been only six months old, but those months taught him more than enough about his slice of life within the 86th Armored Brigade. And - to summarize it, everything within this damn slice of the Brigade made him mad.
"How. Just how. How did you wedge a tank into a goddamn trench line?" Jay made disappointment spread across his face and was clearly unamused by this. "I've expected you guys to screw up, but you could've done it some way else aside from wedging a Patton into a trench. We're the 86th Armored, not some pansy A-Team division."
"Blame Taylor." One of the soldiers in the unit, with the nickname of 'Toast' responded. And as for Jay, his response was to groan in agony. Jay didn't really have the time for any of this blame-game nonsense. The Buck stops here, and it'll stop here ASAP.
"You - all of you - are going to Leavenworth. And I will absolutely guarantee that." Jay said in response to the soldier who blamed Taylor, then the rest of the unit. "If I don't see the tank out of the trench line by 0600 I will tear into your skulls."
And with a barely-disguised disgust for the rest of FOB Fort Night, not because they were unskilled, but because they were... hard to deal with. Jay left in a sour mood. If anything, this reinforced his philosophy of never letting rookies near the Pattons. Ever. Again. He was going to have to talk with the CO of the 50th Armored if they were letting recently-promoted sergeants use the M48.
"Goddamnit..." Jay sat back down on his chair.
"How utterly crap is this brigade?!" Jay was on the verge of throwing his chair at someone. He was just utterly infuriated when they did things like this. 'But Jay! The Patton's broken down!' GOOD THEN! THIS ENTIRE ARMORED BRIGADE WAS FULL OF UNGRATEFUL IDIOTS WHO ONLY SOUGHT TO CLAIM WHAT WAS 'THEIRS' AND BREAK EVERYTHING-
Part of Jay stopped when he realized that he was rambling on and on again. He pinched his nose, sighed, and stopped. He was getting too old. Even if he was relatively young for a Lieutenant, he was already starting to gray on the inside. He was... just not equipped to deal with stupidity on this level. The Brigade was stupid. At least, the members of the unit in FOB Fort Night as some dickweeds put it. He just wanted a break from the mess that these numbnuts put him through.
And, unfortunately for Jay, that break never came.
Jay Ruben - Forward Operating Base 'F-N' Tank Range - March 1, 1977 - 5:58 AM
"Gunner ready, sabot indexed!" His gunner shouted through the radio as Jay sat in the commander's cupola, keeping guard with the machine gun. Jay responded as well.
"Fire, fire AP!" He ordered, covering his ears as the gunner's accuracy skills tore another hole through a Soviet training tank dummy. He wasn't present to go to 'Nam, so he didn't get any idea on what tank they used.
"On the way!" His gunner shouted, firing the tank gun.
"Reload!" Jay ordered, kicking the loader slightly as he got to work reloading the gun as fast as possible.
This exercise was to prove themselves tank-worthy and not obscenely incompetent pieces of garbage. And needless to say, Jay thought it was pretty much succeeding. At the very least, when FOB Fort Night wasn't absolutely shitting on itself with constant - say - helicopter accidents, tank-in-ditch moments, and tonedeaf grunts blasting Billy Don't Be A Hero through their radios. He liked the song and thought it was pretty cool to play it. But, he didn't like it being played in important sessions. So it kind of irritated him to hear that song being blasted.
"Up!" He liked the sound of that though. That made his day. And the other part of this exercise that made his day was eliminating the last training dummy before he got his certification of being a competent tank commander.
"Gunner, AP, tank!" He ordered his gunner as the tank turret moved to see if the gun could keep stable while driving. "Drive around it!" He ordered, trying out the most risky move he's ever seen out of tank crews.
"Target identified!" His gunner repeated, and Jay grinned. He was about to get his showtime, baby. And he's gonna get it NOW!
"FIRE!" He ordered as the final Soviet tank dummy was destroyed. Miraculously, the shot didn't miss at all. Though the M48 itself was rolling around in the dirt and the deep, it still hit it.
"On the way!" His gunner shouted, cackling madly as the AP shot penetrated the dummy and wrecked it. Score one for the United States Army.
And in celebration, Jay celebrated the only way he could - by partying inside the tank.
"HELL YEAH! I'M A NEW COMMANDER! I'M A NEW COMMANDER!"
The rest of the tank cheered as he waved and flailed his arms in the air out of the cupola. "YAHOO!" He shouted.
And the shouting continued for about a few minutes and then ended when Jay decided to get out of the tank and earn some rest after shooting target dummies with the 105mm gun. "Fuck yeah! You finally got Commander certification!" Sergeant Taylor, the massive screwup greeted him. He actually looked sincerely happy for Jay, which was surprising.
And in response...
...Jay fist-bumped Taylor. "Hell yeah!" He shouted, screaming in the air. He took a moment to catch his breath and let a sigh out. "Whew. Now I need to take a nap." Jay said, before turning to look at Taylor with a semi-sincere smile. Half of it was a glare.
"By the way, Sergeant Taylor Joseph..." He turned towards him.
"Uhh... yes, El-Tee?"
"I will drop a Daisy Cutter on you the next time you park a tank inside the trenches." He said, smirking. Later he walked toward one of the chairs located in the FOB to relax and shoot the shit. Well, not by chatting the time away, unfortunately. He was going to shoot the shit by watching the sun.
At least, he would've sat down and shot the shit if not for one of his soldiers running up to him. Literally running up to him, nearly tripping and all that. He would've groaned, but this guy clearly had something for him, so better to not shoot the messenger. It's better to just shoot the guy who asked the messenger in the first place.
"JAY!" The man shouted, his nametag identifying him as Corporal Lars 'Toast' Alexanders. Better known as 'Toast' for complaining when he got a sunburn. "IMPORTANT MESSAGE! I'VE GOT A RADIO MESSAGE!"
"God," Jay groaned. "What is it?" He asked, more or less irritated. The chilly Vermont cold was bothering him, so Corporal Toast barging in to give him a message ruffled his feathers the wrong way. But, again, don't shoot the messenger. "Who sent it?" He asked, as Corporal Toast finally caught his breath and looked Jay in the eye.
"Priority order from the Mayor of St. Johnsbury! Come hear for yourself!"
Jay followed Toast to his little radio corner. Passing by all the tanks in the FOB, he noticed that most of them were in poor condition. Not poor enough to destroy them, but poor enough that he noticed rust. If he had the time, he'd be mad. Too bad he doesn't.
He arrived at the communications sector of the base. Immediately after entering the radio tent he noticed that - to put it bluntly - the place was an unlivable mess. Radios and wires were sprawled among tables, and off to the left there was a pinboard with lots of connecting wires and pins. Looking at it now, Jay was sure that Toast had never been outside his rat cave.
After all, that's why he complained about sunburn.
His fatass could only live inside a dark and damp building.
Almost like a rat.
He approached the radio and began speaking into it. "This is Corporal Lars Alexanders, I've got my CO on the line." He spoke into the radio, before stepping aside and handing it to Jay. He yanked it from his hands and pressed it against his mouth and ears.
"What the hell is it?" Jay asked. He had his nap time ruined just by the people calling him at the worst time possible.
He was surprised when the line was silent for a moment. Did Toast just bring him here as a prank...?
Jay scrapped that thought as breathing came back on the radio, before someone came on the line and spoke.
"You're the only available National Guard unit for miles, right?" The mayor's voice spoke from the radio, confused. Based on his tone, Jay could tell that he was one of the small-town administrators. Barely relevant on the political scale.
Smiling, he nodded and replied to his question. "Yes indeed," Jay said, with a bit of pride in his tone. They were also the only competent ones out there, just outpaced by some of the regular army. Hell, by this time we were dead last in NATO tank competitions. The 1970s was an absolute slump, and interacting with other units shows. "What do you need the 86th Armored for?"
"We've got a situation here..." He replied, his tone shifting to a slightly more panicked one. Jay raised his eyebrows in a little bit of confusion. The hell could be happening in St. Johnsbury's? Some kind of wacky situation?
Then why the hell would they need the National Guard here? Wouldn't calling them in be the Governor's job?
Though he sighed and just replied.
"What kind of situation, Mayor?" Jay asked, glancing back to find that Toast was busy arranging his wires. Rolling his eyes at the rat man's actions, he turned back to the radio to await a response.
"We've got reports of unrest and the citizens are asking for Army presence to keep 'em safe," He said. In the background, Jay could hear murmuring. Nothing too serious hopefully. "They have guns, but they're not sure if that can quell the fear they're feeling. We've got noises coming from the forests, people going missing, and attacks on cars. Hell, some of them have been returning looking like scrap metal. It's gone outta control, so we're gonna need a National Guard unit here to keep the peace. And you're the closest ones we got." The Mayor spoke. As far as Jay could tell, there wasn't any other intent in his statements. Still, shouldn't the Governor be mobilizing the guard?
Ah, screw it.
Not that he wished that'd happen anyway, he was too inexperienced as a tank commander to be facing an army of rocket launchers.
He sighed and nodded. Alright. "...We'll be there in a bit, Mayor. I'll mobilize the unit ASAP. 86th Armored, out."
"And make it quick! Everyone's starting to huddle around the Town Hall, and I want answers. Out." He said before the radio line went dead.
Jay put the radio down and glanced at Corporal Toast. He made a gesture to get Toast to come closer, and when he did he glanced outside of his rat corner. "Grab the rest of the FOB. We're mobilizing. I know, impossible." He spoke to Toast. "Don't worry, even I don't have the highest hopes. Still, let's not fail them."
Toast nodded. "Aye-aye, Jay." And proceeded outside. Hopefully to get the rest of the men mobilized and ready to get in their tanks. Jay, meanwhile, examined the pinboard in Toast's rat corner. The number of pins and wires connecting each other amused him. Some of it was really funny. Like White Castle being connected to a newspaper article about discrimination in the South.
What instantly caught his attention, however, was a drawing of a castle-like structure on the pinboard that wasn't connected to anything. When he took a look at it, Jay saw it as evocative of those old castles he's seen in medieval history. Under it was a paper pinned to the sketch.
And on it were these written words;
"Beacon Academy?"
Jay snickered. Who names their academy after a flashlight? Okay, okay, he was joking on that part. But still, that school design and that name evocated themes of idealism. He remembered a comment made by Toast once, about how most schools are named something unique or idealistic, but then the Brits - being the posh aristocrats they were - just named their schools stuff like 'Ox-Ford' and call it a day.
He didn't mean to disrespect the schools, but goddamn did that feel funny to think about.
'My design philosophy will evocate ideas of intelligence, elegance, and meaningful statements!'
Then...
'oxford. That's it.'
As he was musing, Corporal Toast came back to him and called for his attention.
"Sir, the rest of the men are ready. They're assembled at the courtyard." He spoke, saluting Jay.
After finishing his musing, he decided to not press onto the drawing. Might just be one of those things that you do while shooting the shit and taking care of radios. Those things are annoying, unfortunately, but he knew that to be the case with every piece of equipment.
No time to press onto it.
"Righto." He commented as Toast led the way to a podium hastily constructed on FOB Fort Night.
When he got there, well, the rest of the FOB garrison was at the briefing alright, but many were just... poor at gun safety. Most didn't hold their submachine guns properly, unfortunately. He was about to yell about gun safety but realized they were just the Z-Team, and he could go hard on them in combat, but not in the middle of the homeland. Well, that and these were mostly tank crewmen.
Christ alive, it was a bad time to have enlisted in the National Guard.
"Attention!" He shouted, and the soldiers finally put themselves to attention, with their stock touching the ground.
"Right. I don't know how much you are all combat ready-" He stressed, scanning the entire audience. "-but we've got an assignment here."
Jay coughed into the microphone, only to be surprised as reverberating feedback greeted him. A part of him was embarrassed. Though it wasn't like the other tank crewmen would notice. "This will be our first time out of the FOB. I'm surprised myself, but we better take it smoothly." He continued, with nobody bothering to interrupt him. Surprising. "Right. The town of St. Johnsbury's, located half a mile close to here, has requested the 86th Armored's presence. Apparently, things have started going to hell. People are disappearing, cars are getting torn to pieces, and noises are coming from the forest. They're requesting we restore law and order." He spoke, glancing at the tanks.
How the hell were a bunch of M48A5 Pattons supposed to enforce martial law without proper infantry support?
Jay hoped to God that there would be infantry reinforcements coming from other states. Or hell, just Military Police.
Though then again, every unit was committed to REFORGER.
"Now..." He began, coughing, looking over the FOB. All tanks were ready, and set to go. "I'd normally refer this to the guys up top, but we're a FOB in the middle of... well, nowhere, so we might as well take this job just to get out of... Forward Operations Base Fort-Night." He stretched the statement as he turned to glare at the rest of the guys in the FOB. "But, we might as well just go. So, take your Pattons, take your tanks, and let's get moving." He finished, and the FOB dispersed to get their tanks up and running.
Glancing behind him, Jay thought about the speech. 'God. That was so lame.' He commented, shaking his head. 'I'm never doing that again. I shouldn't be in command of this base.'
Stepping down from the podium, Jay turned to Corporal Toast to tell him one last thing before he went back to his Patton. "Get Johnsbury's radio frequency and tell all the guys to switch to it. We'll need updates from the town itself."
"Roger that." Toast said as he dispersed to go ask the Mayor if he could get onto a radio channel with the rest of the Nat-Guard's armored brigade.
But until then, he just had to get back to the tank and go start it up.
As he approached the tank he used to train, three other people came across him. His gunner, his loader, and his driver.
"I assume you're gonna drag us to Johnsbury's, yes?" His loader asked, stepping up for the group.
"Yeah." He stated, not even bothering with sugarcoats.
"Goddamnit."
And that was the start of it, before eight tanks from the FOB departed, leaving a skeleton crew of ten maintenance men to keep watch over the rest of the FOB. Jay was a little furious that only ten men running the skeleton crew but sighed. The tank maintenance men couldn't be brought, but at the same time... the fact they only had either submachine guns or pistols was a pain in the ass.
Hopefully, they'd be good enough to protect the base.
Though Jay couldn't resist feeling sorry for them having stupid hats.
Jay Ruben - Road to Johnsbury - March 1, 1977 - 6:20 AM
"March!"
And that was the signal for the M48 Pattons to begin moving. Jay was itching to shoot something, and now that they actually have deployment orders, they finally had something to shoot at that wasn't Soviet Tank Dummies or concrete that the guys in the FOB piled up to shoot.
"Eerrrrgh, El-Tee, do I have to be awake throughout the whole trip?" The Loader complained. Jay sighed, he wished he'd give his loader time to take a nap, but they were being deployed to a town in the middle of basically nowhere, New England, so they might as well have drank all the coffee beforehand.
"Loader, you really should've brought either Coffee or Ice Cream."
"Screw you too, El-Tee."
"You're welcome."
The M48 Pattons continued their course as the tanks of the other crewmen began to voice their opinions. Jay resigned himself to his fate as everyone suddenly became the largest source of radio traffic. But they were NatGuard, so to Jay, they really didn't have much to do and were fully justified in complaining over the radio. That's what Army life is. Especially in the Z-Team.
"Pardon my French," One of the Crewmen opened up on the radio, to the response of one of the local Frenchies in the Garrison.
"Donc quoi?" The aforementioned Frenchie spoke over the radio.
"But pour quoi sur la terre verte de dieu are we doing in some little town?" He spoke in an exaggerated Quebecois accent but raised one point.
"I dunno, Commies?"
"What, are we gonna get Charlie on US soil?" One of the crewmen said before the entire radio network broke out into laughter.
"I dunno man, they'd probably not make it five miles before they're instantly evaporated by a Phantom."
"Or a Huey."
"Maybe even a Zippo."
"Oh man, definitely a Zippo."
The conversation went on as people began to theorize and joke about how Charlie-wannabes could get zipped by the American military, and its equipment. Popular consensus leaned towards the Zippo as it actually had a decent job and range, which was perfect for clearing out any potential holdouts in the middle of St. Johnsbury.
"86th-" The Mayor of Johnsbury's voice blared out of the radio before the rest of the guys stopped laughing and paid attention.
"Come in, over." Jay spoke into the radio, but no response yet.
"Johns-" The radio was cut off by static and more static as the Mayor's voice began to drown out.
"St. Johnsbury, come in."
"creatures-"
"ST. JOHNSBURY, COME IN!"
"-attacked-" Was one of the only other words that broke through the static barrier.
"FUCK'S SAKE!"
Jay was about to smack the radio when he finally felt the static clearing to an acceptable level.
"St. Johnsbury, SITREP. Over." Jay spoke.
"86th, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS?!" The Mayor finally spoke. Gunshots were heard in the radio background.
"What the hell is going on over there?"
"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! DAMN-THINGS HAVE STARTED SIEGING THE TOWN! THEY'VE OVERWHELMED THE COPS AND I THINK THEY'RE APPROACHING THE TOWN HALL! OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHI-" The radio cut into static for a moment before gunfire echoed through the radio.
The radio stopped as Jay tried to process what he was hearing. Abominations? Okay, this was NOT in his paygrade.
He would've shrugged it off if it was just a wannabe communist insurgency propping up in the United States. But to hear the words 'things' and 'sieging' turned off a part of Jay's brain. He stared at the horizon in shock for a minute before coming back to his senses and asking the Mayor another question.
"St. Johnsbury, come in! What's the status of your defenses?!" Jay asked, and his response was more pistol fire and shotgun fire.
"Shit, shit! We're not looking great here! Just get here as fast as you can! Ou-" Were the last words from the radio before the transmission died. Probably the Radio got fried, shot, or short-circuited.
"Alright, you heard the Mayor guys. Kick it up!" Was Jay's final words to the rest of the tanks before they sped as fast as possible. While they had a maximum speed of thirty miles, it was still better than nothing. But Jay just wished it was 50 miles and not 30.
Then maybe he'd have killed things faster.
Jay Ruben - St. Johnsbury - March 1, 1977 - 6:39 AM
As the tanks approached the "Welcome to St. Johnsbury" sign, they began to notice that things were not looking good at all. Even if most of them were tucked inside the tank, they could definitely note that things were not good. How? Their commanders commented on it. And none of the comments were positive or assuring. At all.
"What the hell..."
"You seein' this?"
"How in-"
"Holy... who the hell turned this town into Huế City?!"
These statements were confirming it for Jay. Something happened here that was just simply beyond their pay grade. For one, a Town doesn't come out looking like it came out of the Tet Offensive and certainly doesn't give one the creeps when they go inside the place.
The M48 Pattons cautiously advanced, with many tanks sweeping their muzzles around the broken town. Some windows broke, some walls were smashed in, and some barrels got dented. But the town... it gave some people an idea of what fighting in Tet was like. Jay's M48 Patton kept a forward-facing gun as it continued to approach the further-destroyed town.
"Hey..." Jay's gunner opened up before Jay asked what was going on.
"What is it?"
"I think I saw something move." He said before turning the gun turret towards a building corner where Jay definitely saw something move. Jay's eyes squinted, but he swore he just saw what looked to be a tail.
"Keep the formation. Keep advancing." Jay repeated, and relayed it to the rest of the Pattons, with the responses being some form of affirmative. They were better off in a single-file line than splitting up.
And the Patton's gun swung right in the direction where the movement went as if the tank and its crew were expecting to see something jump at them and shoot them. The tank steadily kept advancing as the tank behind it also leaned its gun right, preparing to support Jay's tank or fire off a shot in case Jay's tank would get shot as well.
"I swear to Christ-" Jay's gunner began, before getting jumped.
And the thing that jumped it was a Black Wolf. With white bones and red eyes scattered throughout it. It looked like it came out of a twisted version of fairytale stories Jay read about once. It leaped onto the tank and tried to claw the tank out. It let out a roar as it began trying to tear the tank apart, to little effect as its armor effectively stopped the claws from doing anything major to the tank.
In a panic, Jay's gunner fired the M48 Patton's gun. The fear in his eyes was obvious if anyone looked at him as he hurriedly pulled the trigger, with a 105mm AP shell directly smashing into the Wolf's body. The Wolf didn't take it well as the shell detonated after it penetrated its bone. That shot flung it backward, with it hitting a wall and breaking on impact. The poor bastard didn't last long, with a 90-mil hitting it and the wall essentially splattering it.
"LOAD!' Jay hurriedly shouted as a second Wolf sprinted towards the tank. It was about to leap when the second tank just behind Jay's tank took the shoot, hitting it and causing it to smash through a building and die on impact. The rest of the Pattons went into a combat stance as they just barely heard monstrous roars through the cannon shots and the tank engines.
"GUN READY!" Jay's loader shouted as a third Wolf was blown up directly by a shell impact. If Jay didn't know better, he'd have told it to rest in piss. He joined in the fighting by opening fire on another Wolf with the HMG of the Patton. The .50 Cals caused it to stumble around and parts of its bones broke, before a another 105mm shell hit it and caused it to die in an AP-assisted splatter into the wall.
The tank platoon was in an attempted Ambush, it was official. However, much to Jay's surprise, these damn animals couldn't scratch the Patton's armor. These Little Red Riding Hood-looking wolves didn't match up to a Patton's 90-mil. And that made Jay grin. Dumb animals.
"MOVE!" Jay shouted, as the tank line began to advance in a 'walking fire' tactic where they would attempt to drive while firing. The stability was absolute crap but the M48 tanks did get a lot of good hits on the Wolves, though some mostly due to the wolves directly leaping onto the gun just as it prepared to fire. "Loader, keep those shells comin'! I feel like the Lumberjack now!" Jay shouted, and on the radio, the rest of the tank platoon was going ham on these creatures.
"Look at 'em run!" One of the Patton commanders, now calling himself Red Tank Cannon, shouted. "They can't handle the American spirit! Hell yeah!"
"Some of 'em got away." One noted.
"Ah, screw 'em. They can cry all they want."
The Platoon cheered on as everyone's Pattons wrecked the wolves. If Jay were to count how many wolves the platoon absolutely decimated, he'd have rounded it up to 12. Twelve of these wolves found themselves ceasing to exist the tank platoon continued to advance throughout the town. But, somewhere, in the middle of the fighting, they forgot that it really did remind them of Huế.
The Pattons continued to advance towards the Town Hall, on the way encountering dead bodies, wrecked cars, and the mangled remains of the town's population. Their fighting spirit moderated as some Commanders were unfortunate enough to see outside. They were mangled to hell and back. The roads were almost painted red, and that's not to speak of how many Commanders lost their lunch seeing the innards just... well...
"Holy..."
"Those goddamn ANIMALS did this?!"
"What. The. Hell."
The Patton commanders stopped their cheering as they approached the Town Hall. What they saw was a blood-stained, wrecked, and practically crumbling building as the bodies of police officers, civilians, and practically most of the town's inhabitants piled up on the front door of the Town Hall. And much to the horror of Jay, the Town Hall's door was open.
"Oh crap. Shit. shit, shiiit..." Jay spoke, as he grabbed the radio and began to give orders to the rest of the platoon. "Tanks 5 to 8, stay near the Town Hall. Call for Reinforcements, ask for the 172nd." As he ordered, those tanks broke off and started to approach the Town Hall. While doing so, Jay noticed that some of the wolves broke off and fled into the forests. His eyes squinted as they just abruptly vanished into the bushes and the trees in the nearby forest. He had to do something about it.
He spoke, then added. "Tanks 2, 3, and 4, stay with me." While Jay wished that they came with callsigns during this operation, the massacre of wolves and the resulting occupation of the Town Hall distracted him from assigning callsigns.
"2,3,4. We're going to pursue those goddamn wolves."
"...Sir, we have no infantry support. And who knows what we'll be facing over there?" One of the Commanders on the other tanks spoke up.
"I know that. We'll be prodding them." He spoke, much to the groaning of the other commanders.
"Sir. Are you insane?"
"Well, would you rather they come back with other reinforcements? That is if Animals can even call reinforcements." Jay offered.
"While you do make a good point-" He was cut off by a loud roar coming from the forest.
"...On second thought, I think it's best that we kill some of them so they don't come back in bigger numbers." The second commander conceded, and Jay smiled.
"Right. Go forward. Onwards, the thirteen-stripe flag." Jay shouted, as the other 3 tanks followed him to the forest. The tanks smashed into trees, and broke many of them. Nothing happened at first, but as they pressed and advanced, Jay found the forest changing in color, even if just slightly, to a more brighter tone.
And when they came out of the forest, they were on a forested region that was warmer and just brighter than Vermont. Jay could tell that because he now had an urge to wear thinner clothing. Damn the Army.
Moving on, the Pattons scanned the area for the sources of the roar that got them into this forest in the first place. But nope, they didn't find the source for that.
Instead, Jay, and his gunner saw something that caught their eyes. Something incredibly peculiar.
An industrial-looking camp structure.
And it was under attack by more of those wolves. Their shapes were definitely visible to Jay.
Rubbing his eyes, he thought that maybe it'd go away. But when it didn't... Jay only had one thing to say as he felt his eye twitching.
"What."
It was Tank 4 who broke the silence, and gave the statement that was on the minds of everyone else.
"Uh, I agree."
Their day just really wanted to fuck them over, didn't it?
Damnit, God.
Author's Notes:
I've got another project to pile up onto myself. Cool. Three projects, one set in GFL, one set in AK, and one set in RWBY. I might just do Rule of Three and have only 3 projects active at a time. No, this doesn't mean that Black Dawn or Tale in the East is canceled. It's just that I have another project to focus piled on top of those two. I expect more sparse updates, as I'm getting busier and busier with trips and more procrastination out to get me.
I've set this in the Vietnam War to give the United States a significant cultural and technological difference compared to RWBY. With Earth being more rugged in designs and less sleek. Examples are the M48s used in this chapter and some of the other interesting examples of Cold War tech the United States military had. Expect Nike Hercules missiles against Nevermores someday. In contrast however, Remnant is more sci-fi-ey with sleeker designs and an aesthetic utterly alien to the United States. And technological synthesis will be a thing.
And also this is an arc of 'redemption' for the US as they prove themselves capable of diplomacy and military force as Remnant proves to be a unique challenge for the Carter Presidency. I won't speak too much, but just know that the US will be more invigorated than IRL and dear ol'Carter is going to be seen in a more positive light.
But until then, I'll have to examine the craziest US Military projects from the Cold War. Nuclear Depth Charges meet Grimm, anyone?
See you guys next time.