An Unwinnable War
Episode 8 - FOB 'Fort Night 2'
March 22, 1977
Two days after White Fang Forest base elimination
"Where in the world is the M60 Patton?"
- Motto of the 86th Armored Recon Brigade before December 1977
Memoirs of 1st Lt. Jay 'Raptor' Ruben;
"Yeah, so, as it turns out - the White Fang were fucked. Heavily. Spec Ops took out their supplies and managed to cripple their base of operations in the Valean Forests. When CIDG came out to survey the Spec Ops' work, they were impressed. The fact that we were willing to go to any length to basically screw these assholes over, even if it meant manipulating the wildlife... I'm pretty sure we gave them nightmares."
"We went to the nightmare-filled forests of Vale, and I'm pretty sure the IQ of the 86th Armored Recon dropped by sixty percent. I thought that I'd never have to reach that threshold, but knowing the 86th - nothing is impossible for them. This has put upon me the question; 'Have you ever really sat down and thought about the potential for great evil that resides in every sentient being that is only separated by whim or choice?'"
"Yeah, me neither. Turns out that our group is just absolutely idiotic. In other, more important news, by this time, the National Guard sent more reinforcements our way. Engineer Brigades just arrived on March 21, and they got sent before us tank boys to repair the FOB. Or, the shell of it anyway. We recovered several firearms that most of our CIDG boys were already familiar with, though. Then we had to train some recruits. It was short but sweet. Our job after that? Conduct recon operations. Our attached units? Well, the 1/101st Field Artillery, 1/101st Armored Cav, and 1/101st Infantry. Because apparently there was an order given to the '1/101st' that got sent to ALL the 1/101sts. So we were stuck with them."
"So there we were, in Vale. A convoy of jeeps, APCs, and tanks escorting howitzers and gun batteries accompanied by infantry units riding on top of the tanks and APCs. Yeah. The 86th's first recon operation was fucked in terms of logistics. But hey, we had a job. Establish contact with any settlements within this shitty corner of Northwestern Vale. As it turns out, trying to negotiate while an M48 Patton aimed its guns at a village was a bad idea. Who knew?"
"But hey. At least I don't have to deal with my M16 performing like absolute ass. The grunts on the other hand? Yeah, I felt sorry for those poor grunts who rode with us."
"They got hit the most when those White Fang fucks tried to launch an attack on a village to get a second FOB."
Jay Ruben - Forward Operating Base 'Fort Night 2' - March 22, 1977 (Earth Years) - 7:32 AM (Earth Time)
"Goddamn fuckwits," Jay heard Colonel de Zwart sigh as he took a look at the decimated encampment that the White Fang had set up. "Did they really think they could take on LRRP and win?" He chuckled. "Ah, poor bastards. They never knew what hit them." He finished, before lighting up a cigarette and taking a smoke. Jay was there, standing by the Colonel as CIDG units prepared themselves for additional briefing now that they had the capability of providing much more intelligence for them. Well, at least, as far as they could disclose. Other units handled, well, other tasks. But Jay...
"Lieutenant, why don't you go greet the new CIDG units?" He motioned to the back, still smoking. "It'll pay off for them to know how our weapons systems work. Especially the tanks." He finished. Jay's response was to groan. Albeit, he wasn't exactly mad. It was much more fun than maintenance, but it still sucked. Either way, he only had one option to respond with.
"Alright. I'll go get the rest of the crew." He sighed. Doing this was a pain in the ass.
Through the base, he walked amongst the rest of the guys who were also managing things. He saw the 26th ID's helicopters land a crate from the Engineering unit, then turned his head to see some Engineers from the Ohio units digging up trenches, and when he turned behind him he saw an M113 get a machine gun mounted to it.
Needless to say, the base was thriving with life. It wasn't particularly sane life, seeing as the 86th was comprised of - at best - children with experience in "fuckshit" or otherwise. But, hey, you take what you can get. As he says.
And well, he took what he could get when he found the crew of his tank. Sitting atop the M48 Patton, reading magazines and trying to shove things into the M48's gun barrel. Well, it was his time to shine, so he cleared his throat - which got the attention of his crew - and spoke.
"Hi there," Jay said. "Now you're all wondering why we're here. Right?" He finished. The crew nodded. "Let me guess, the locals gotta be briefed on how a tank works?" The Loader opened up. "I think they already know how it fights, El-Tee."
Jay wagged his finger. "They know how it fights. But they don't know how it works." He finished. The crew groaned. "Come on, El-Tee. Do we really have to?" The Gunner complained.
"Yep."
The crew sighed. They were finished. All of them were. Jay knew it. They didn't have to do the elaborate setups, just demonstrate the tank. Unfortunately...
He just wanted to do it anyway.
Jay Ruben - Forward Operating Base 'Fort Night 2' - March 22, 1977 (Earth Years) 8:54 AM (Earth Time)
"Well, what do you think?" Jay asked the loader, looking at the masterpiece in front of him.
"Sir. Do we really have to make targets out of the scrap?" He asked, taking off his sunglasses as he looked at what they put all their time and effort into. To the loader, it was a horrible abomination of scrap, discarded ammo casings, and a shitton of leaves. The fact that there was a broken speaker on top of it didn't help at all.
"Well, you got any other ideas?" Jay asked, smiling. "If you got any, send them my way." He finished. The Loader sighed and just looked at him in disgust. "I hate you, El-Tee."
"Opinion noted and preserved." Jay chuckled. The loader responded in kind. "Right, I'll be sure to frame it a second time."
"Maybe."
And as Jay waited for the CIDG trainees to arrive to the scene after being processed through the Army's ad-hoc recruitment center called the 'Shitcan' because of how cramped it was. Of course, he wasn't going to complain. The CIDG trainees had much, much more training to work on due to how hellish this world was.
When Jay heard tales of the world they found themselves intervening in... Well, he was shocked. This couldn't be that hellish, right? Oh how wrong this poor New Englander was. The fact that most of the CIDG workers had shot something once, twice, or multiple times...
"Think they'll be able to adapt to whatever we scrounge from our storage?" The Gunner asked, M3 Grease Gun in hand. "I mean, we have this shit-" He raised his M3. "-And somehow that's enough to defeat whatever beasts they are?"
"Ah-ah, Gunner. We defeated them with tanks. Not submachine guns. We'll have to see that for next time." Jay corrected. The Gunner looked at him with a dirty glare. "Fuck you, El-Tee."
"Fuck you too, man." Jay responded. The rest of the crew just sat on the M48 Patton thereafter, awaiting their CIDG transfers. To Jay, this could have been his life for the rest of his days in the National Guard. Sadly, however, he just couldn't stay out of trouble. Even in the Guard. But aside from that, if he actually were to look at the source of this trouble... He's pretty fucking shocked about it all. And that's not to say the CDC, FBI, or CIA wouldn't be amazed. Hell, get the DHS too. They'll be shitting themselves.
This world was mostly uninhabited, filled to the brim with literal - and this is putting it lightly - hellbeasts. He wasn't sure how M16 fire would deal with them, but it did die to 90mm cannon fire. And hell, he thought that would be the end of it. But then came the stranger part. This place apparently had a KKK-esque terror organization. Well, ironically, it started off as a Civil Rights group, but then turned into the KKK. If Johnson were here, he'd be having a field day calling every side out.
Unfortunately, Johnson's dead.
Such is life.
"Here come the CIDG transferees," The Driver groaned, pointing towards a truck that had the CIDG marking flash on it. "Get the bastards over here." He finished, before opening the driver's hatch and entering from there.
"Well, I'll stay here. You guys go on in." Jay responded, jumping off. "I'll be handling the instructions here and there. You better keep your Radios on or I'll have your ass ten ways to sunday." Jay concluded.
"Roger."
And after that, Jay turned to face the music.
Walking over to an ammo crate as the trainees fell into line row by row, Jay eyed the new recruits. Most of them were 'Faunus' - a weird Animal-Human hybrid - and only their trainers were human. The trainees themselves were pretty hesitant, but they fell in line with us because... well, we had guns and tanks. These were factory workers, pen-pushers, and security guards. Sure, factory workers with RPGs, pen-pushers with pistols, and guards with submachine guns. But still. Though we have to train them with regular American weapons too.
That being said, Jay did hear the Quartermaster found something during the raid on the area that used to be a White Fang training camp - which was now America's training ground. They did mention that they'll be digging through them to find out how they worked. In the meantime, though...
"Ten-hut!" Jay shouted, getting them to salute. They all faced towards him and saluted at the same time. Though many did it quite sloppily. That wasn't his problem. This place didn't actually have a unified military nor any offensive militia organizations, much to his ire. Every American would have the right to well-regulated militias and such. But... he sighed. Vale was just different.
He let those thoughts go as he addressed the trainees.
"As you all know, you all have volunteered for armor and weapons systems training," Jay continued, lifting his finger up as he got their attention by walking back and forth with his finger still pointing at the air. "I'll have to address this first - we have no available tanks for the CIDG as of now. However, to demonstrate our armor capabilities, we will be using my tank for training." He continued. "Any questions?" He added. One hand was raised. Right in front of him, too.
He took one look at the arm and lasered down to the person who raised their hand and asked them a question. "Yes?" He asked as he took a closer look at the person. Turns out, that the person with their hands up was a she.
And she was a bird faunus, apparently.
He only told himself that that because she had feathers sticking out. Couldn't tell which bird.
"With all due respect..." She stopped as she had no way of addressing me by rank. He sighed. The consequences of not having an actual military to train. Jay had to step in and tell her.
"It's Lieutenant." He said, helping her. "You are to address me as Lieutenant for the time being. Not sir." He sighed. Normally they wouldn't have Ell-Tees doing training, but this was special circumstance as he was part of the only armored unit that got sent to Remnant. So here was Jay, busy helping a new recruit address him. A woman, too. Back home this would be scandalous, but he could give less than two shits.
At least he scored consistently on accuracy tests.
"Lieutenant... what's a tank?" He didn't facepalm at that! Surprisingly, he had a plan and a whole-ass explanation for that. And he prepared it by walking up to the tank and smacking its barrel. He hurt his hand but it was far, far more mild than the time he tried to beat his own hand with a lead pipe. So, he continued on.
"This, my friends, is a tank," He explained. "Specifically, an M48 Patton, named for a figure from my corner of the space-time pool." He then climbed on top of the tank and crouched with my legs spread next to the machine gun on the mount. "This is the machine gun on it." He introduced Ma Deuce to them. "12.7x99mm machine gun, Browning M2. Or, in layman's terms, M2 Browning .50 Cal." He spoke.
Their faces were amazed to say the least. He went on with his explanation. "This vehicle is designed in mind with spearheading offensives in mind," He added, before taking a cigarette and smoking it. "Equipped with a 90mm cannon, the M48 Patton is just one of the tanks in service with the American military. Intended for use in wars," He mentioned, before their eyes turned wide. "Wars against other humans, mind you." He threw the cigarette and stood up, before disembarking the turret and sitting on the armor skirts.
"Y-you... you fight other humans...?" One of the CIDG trainees - a pig faunus - asked. Jay nodded his head casually. It was a matter of fact, unfortunately. The United States had fought many wars against humans. And it was only two years since our last one. Well, technically seven years. Jay had been eleven when the United States began pulling troops out.
"Yes." He responded, shrugging. "It's life over back on my side," Jay continued to sit on the armor. "We fight, we kill, and we don't have much to deal about in terms of your... 'Grimm' problem." He finished.
"No Grimm?"
"You couldn't tell when we brought you over to Johnsbury?" He asked, mouth twisting into a sarcastic smirk.
"I... I thought that was a secure base. Nothing more." He added. Suddenly his eyes started to widen in more fear. "Have you... killed anybody?" He asked.
Jay sighed. It was another one of these. "No," he added, shrugging. "We're the National Guard, actually. Not the Army." He was confused, so Jay added more. "National Guard is the country's reserve and militia force," he pointed towards the other soldiers attending to the camp. "We're basically the fall-back guys."
"Why have technology like this, then?" Another CIDG trainee asked. "Atlas doesn't give any militia this kind of technology, no, they hoard it for their army." They added. "If you're the fall-back guys, then where is the Regular Army?" Another one asked. The question was repeated.
He answered as simply as he possibly could. "The regular military's deployed elsewhere, they've got their own problems..." He paused, then sighed. "Like a Cold War warm enough to boil an egg."
"Cold War?"
Jay sighed and immediately waved the man off. "It's a complex mess Jay don't care about, just know that we've got enemies to the east. Human ones." He watched everyone's eyes widen. He didn't make any snarky remarks after that. Those were reserved for the idiots in 'Military Intelligence' considering the lack of their IQ. "It's not racial, more ideological." Jay admitted. He grasped the reason for discrimination but found it largely annoying compared to the Segregation of South Carolina. If anything, that told Jay that some people were dumber than rocks.
"What do you mean by that?"
"It means that I can kill someone from the East because they believe in a dictatorship, not because they look like a Zebra." Jay noted, watching them cringe. It didn't amuse me this time. Guess these people really do live in such a hell world where Commie lives are as equally viable as human ones.
When the cringing finished, Jay went back to briefing.
"Right, on a lighter note-" He opened the hatch of a nearby M48 Patton that was issued for training. "This is your training tank," he then pointed to a steel wreck comprised of remnants of the warehouse scrapped up by the National Guard Engineer units. "And that is your training target. The objective is simple." He grabbed a stick off the ground and waved it around the obstacles on the training course set up by the Engineers.
"Drive the tank around without hitting anything," He then changed to point at the target from earlier. "Then move on to shooting at targets as part of tests. We're sending in a group of armored instructors to facilitate your proper training. Got it?"
It took them a bit to swallow that, but when they managed to get their asses in gear, they responded. "Yes, Lieutenant!" Seemed to me like they were briefed on how to address me. Normally this would require an actual training environment with Drill Sergeants, Captains, and whatnot. But with the Rest of the Army cut off from our little project, we were left with scraps and whatever improvisation the Ohio Engineers could come out.
Knowing these Ohioans, they'd probably come up with a really hot heater. Jay heard that in December, Ohio gets cold as balls. Guess that means when winter hits, they'll be immediately turning the antifreeze into a permanent anti-cold coat of liquid. Sort of like Oil on water.
"Paging 1st Troop of the 82nd Armored Brigade." The PA the Engineers hastily set up blared. "Once again, paging the 1st Troop of the 86th Armored Reconnaissance Brigade. Your presence is needed on base camp." It finished. Leaving an irritated Jay. His vacation - well, 'vacation' - plan was ruined. He approached his tank - not the one the CIDG trainees were waiting around in - to call up the crew.
"Well, I'm off. They're paging us." Jay addressed, sighing. "Be on your best behavior when meeting the Colonel, alright? We don't want the Colonel's men to be all over our asses if an ammo dump catches fire because you smoked while briefing."
The Loader, Gunner, and Driver sighed. Only the loader responded. "Yes, El-Tee."
"Righto," Jay turned around. "Don't be too tired on the Colonel. He probably hasn't slept in weeks after we first dropped here." He finished, before leaving the area and gunning straight for the Command Tent. The moment he and his crew stepped into the tent, he was faced with a presumably sleep-deprived Colonel de Zwart, with his hands sighing as he passed his eyes over paperwork. When he noticed Jay, he slowly put the paper down and heaved a huge sigh.
"Alright, welcome." Colonel de Zwart announced, standing up to grab a pointing stick. "I've already briefed soldiers who were bone-headed enough to come back drunk. Please don't tell me you're on anything, Lieutenant. Your men, too." He deadpanned, before sighing as Jay shook his head and showed his hands, alongside his men. They didn't have anything alcoholic.
"No sir, haven't drank since high school. And even then, it was barely anything strong." Jay said.
"Good, good," Colonel de Zwart then moved the stick to a map on a board. "This is a map of the local area that we managed to obtain from the Camp when SF detonated it." He moved to a settlement that was marked by a red circle. "Command wants us to establish contact with settlements in the area, so far, we've been bogged down by maintenance efforts," He put his head down and shook his head, returning to a less-tired face.
"But today is the day we're finally able to mobilize forces to go to the village," He commented. "You, 1st troop, are to rendezvous with 1/101st at this point, here," He pointed towards a crater that was marked with 'Point Zulu'. "And you are to advance eastward," He moved the stick to the village. "And establish contact with the local settlements. If possible, negotiate a treaty with the local government allowing MACNE military presence in the area."
He took a moment to assess possible threats when he pointed his stick towards arrows all labeled Grimm/White Fang Attack Area. "We're expecting either the Grimm or White Fang to assault the area either before or after you arrive at the village, based on movement patterns recorded by CIDG for the Grimm and recovered documents from the White Fang base. Your orders then are to, quote, 'Hold Alamo' until we can get air cavalry up and running."
He faced the men and put the stick down. "Any questions?" He asked.
"Uh, sir," The Gunner spoke up. "When does the operation begin?" He questioned. The response was swift. "Approximately 3 hours from now. We've already paged the 1/101st to head to Point Zulu."
"How the hell are the 1/101st supposed to get to point Zulu?" The loader asked. "We've sent copies of the map to the 1/101st. Expect them to be ready in a bit."
"Hey, uh, Colonel," Jay spoke up. "Unrelated to the topic at hand, but how the hell did the Ohio Engineer Corps build an FOB so quickly? I expected them to take a month, but they did it in a shorter time than that." Jay had to admit. Ohio's ingenuity impressed him at times. In fact, he might have to dedicate a tribute to Ohio someday if he got out of this war.
Maybe some art?
Pizza?
Soda?
No idea how he should give tribute to the Ohio National Guard Engineer corps.
"We have multiple Engineer teams on standby as part of MACNE's, err, 'exercise' mandate." The Colonel noted. "They've been reassigned to help us build the FOB as fast as possible. In fact, we're expecting reinforcements in the form of a Medevac Unit and some Air National Guard units." He said. "That being said, your only air support - for now - is Hueys. We're working to get some grenade launchers for them and Gunship conversions. But nothing too special, just machine guns for now."
"Alright." Jay noted. The Colonel once again expected questions, but nothing came up. So he nodded. "Good. Dismissed."
The team went out just as the other guys from 1st Troop filed in for their briefing. Jay briefly passed one by and asked him a question.
"Hey, uh, you're from 1st Troop, 86th Armored Recon, right?" Jay asked. The men who weren't a part of his crew turned to him and nodded.
"Well, we just finished briefing. We'll be waiting for you guys in the tanks." Jay noted. "Operation begins in three hours sharp, so be ready." He added, with the men nodding before heading to the command tent.
The crew had climbed into the tank, and waited for the rest of the guys to come out.
By the time they had come out, the loader had already fallen asleep and nearly hit his head after being startled by the friendly tank engines.
Such was life in the 86th Armored's 1st Troop.
Jay Ruben - Point Zulu - March 22, 1977 (Earth Years) 12:32 PM (Earth Time)
"This where the 1/101st is supposed to meet us, right?" The loader peeked out of the turret, machine gun ready. "I ain't seen 'em at all, sir." He added, just a bit pissed off. To be fair, Jay had the same thoughts. He was a little more than miffed at the 1/101st ditching them like that. But hey, it probably took them a long time to get there.
They're probably getting here. Give it a minute." Jay noted, poking out of the Commander's hatch. The Pathfinders had already arrived after the briefing. Turns out, they were split off from the mechanized infantry section of an Armored Platoon. And the Mortar Squad also arrived. Now they just needed the Mobile HQ and the 1/101st.
Several minutes of waiting later, and the sound of engine rumbling that belonged to an M113 manifested itself just nearby. 1st Troop had waited for them already, so when they got the chance, they'd ask what the hell took them so long. The engine sound came closer and closer, getting just as louder. Jay thought that the 1/101st would be mechanized infantry, and sure, they were. But he still had to ask.
What was taking them so long?
Engine problems?
The answer showed itself, though. In the form of M113s finally appearing from the trees. But what Jay didn't expect was that the APCs were followed by... trucks. The APCs themselves also had infantry riding on top of them. Sorta in the "tank desant" style, but with a tin box. He knew to expect reinforcements, but not a lot of them! And the trucks, too...
"Are those howitzers?!" The loader asked, taking a moment to stop and rub his eyes. His voice was loud enough to be noticed amongst the sound of engines though, as he got a response. "YEP! THESE ARE HOWITZERS ALRIGHT!"
"Command briefed us on just expecting mechanized infantry. Who the hell are you guys?" Jay's driver popped up to ask a question. Jay had the same thoughts.
Where the hell did they include 'howitzers' in Mechanized Troops?
"2nd Lieutenant Chavez, 1/101st Field Artillery. 2nd Section." One of the soldiers spoke up.
"Field Artillery? The hell are you guys doing out here?" Jay asked. His response came in the form of one of the soldiers riding on the M113s. "Apparently all of us 1/101sts got orders to join you guys!"
"Wait, there were multiple 1/101sts?" Jay continued.
"Yeah!" The same soldier finished, lighting up a cigarette. "There's the 1/101st Armored Cavalry, 1/101st Field Artillery and 1/101st Infantry!"
"How the hell did you guys get the same order?"
"Turns out some asshole paged for the 1/101st to assemble in the Courtyard," He threw the cigarette down in irritation. "They didn't get the memo that there were more than one 1/101sts out there!" He yelled. "So now here we are, heading to Point Zulu in a fucking cramped convoy carrying gun batteries to some village because overkill."
The silence that permeated after that statement was powerful enough to turn a cigarette being thrown into a loud noise. Still, Jay knew that they had to keep moving, even if there was this inconvenience that more or less pissed off nearly every 1/101st.
"So... do we keep moving?" Jay paged in.
"Suppose so." The rifleman responded, before banging on the hatch of the M113.
"Hey driver, we've found our guys! Let's keep moving!"
The APC engines started back up, telling Jay that it was time to go.
The tank engines of 1st Troop joined them, as did the truck and jeep engines of what Jay presumed to be 1/101st Field Artillery.
Go time.
"Advance!" Jay shouted.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Holy shit this took me so long that I'm genuinely ashamed of myself for taking this long. I had it sitting for months, but OBD and my Toaru fic got me distracted. I'm still working on this, but jesus christ i need to write a lot faster. inhernet proof that i need to become a speedtyper
Finished this at school on a time limit. Hope you're pretty happy with what I've done.
Note that the American troops will be, uh, bringing too much equipment to fight underequipped revolutionaries, who aren't popular enough like the Viet Cong.
You can guess how that goes for the White Fang.
As always, see you all next chapter. And have a wonderful life.