An Unwinnable War
Episode 10 - Paint It Black
March 22, 1977
Two days after White Fang Forest base elimination
"It's, uh, an acquired taste."
- Anon. U.S. Army soldier, 1978
Memoirs of 1st Lt. Jay 'Raptor' Ruben;
"Uh, yeah, we were supposed to gather at a village to commit to reconnaissance. Turns out the White Fang - or, as we call them, Whiskey Foxtrot - were planning to sack the village to use it as a training camp. The village was called Mayflower, part of the, uh, northern Vale forests. We, err, came into contact with the villagers before the White Fang did. And, um, they did not want us. We were, uh, bombarded by small-arms fire for quite some time. I think, uh, we were pinned by RPGs and human waves too."
"The Artillery Battery was a vital part of this operation! They were at VERY close range though. We had to move them to a bumpy hill with an open sky to shoot at them from a short arc. For those who could recall the specific details of the movement of the artillery, it was chaos. The logical conclusion of getting us to move to defend would be a catastrophe, but it ended differently! It still ended in a catastrophe, but not for us! That's a plus, considering the complete idiocy of the 86th. The infantry also played a major role, but, err... they were basically under siege 90% of the time."
"The Armored Cavalry performed a major role. They had machine guns that put down major resistance for us. That being said, RPG fire as mentioned earlier forced us, poor tank crewmen, to dig in. Hell, I even had to do some fighting myself. They didn't have squad tactics nor any plan to grind us down though, which meant that we were able to put enough rounds into them to disable their assault. On the flip side, the Mechanized Infantry took the brunt and was fighting a mini-Ia Drang. We didn't even have helicopters. You can tell how that went just by the fact I'm still alive."
"Tank shells were able to punch through what seemed to be dense forests ripe with cover, and the artillery bombarded the area with enough high-explosives to flatten the area. The regular infantry was able to pull their weight as well. As it turns out, much 5.56 can indeed ruin the environment. And I don't just mean lead poisoning. Then again, the M2HBs that the 1/101st Infantry brought were decisive in determining who won versus who didn't. And they weren't even fortified! They were literally out in the open, prepared to die. But they still survived. Call it magic, but I call it bullshit."
"My M219 broke in the middle of fighting, so I had to fight from the top with an M16. Somehow one of the Mechanized had one to hand me because my M3 broke. I had to get the M219 repaired back at the base. It cost me a lot, to be perfectly honest. That being said, the fighting was worth it."
"Also, Artillery's good with the Killer Juniors. Surprisingly, they were able to find an open field and used it to clear holes in enemy forests rather than, y'know, causing trouble for us."
Jay Ruben - Mayflower Village - March 22, 1977 (Earth Years) - 1:06 PM (Earth Time)
"That's it! Back it up, back it up!" Jay shouted as the tank attempted to go backward to cement its place in the center. "You're doing good!" Jay moved his hands rapidly as the tank tried to fit into its exact spot. To be exact, right in the middle of a large tree that had its place in the center of the village. When the tank finally made it to the spot he needed it, he gave the thumbs-up. "Alright! That's it! You've got her!"
Popping out of the hatch was the Loader, who looked like he banged his head several times. He turned to Ruben and spoke. "El-Tee, how in the hell am I supposed to keep myself sane in these trying times?" He asked, almost slumping over the hatch. "I swear I've banged my head on the Patton more times than I need to," He muttered. "And these villagers man..."
"Hey," Jay tried to give him a break. "They're not bothering us anymore! Especially after I attempted to copy the Cypriot-Greek-Turkish treaty of guarantee for our agreement. Eugh, that reminds me, any updates on the whole Cyprus thing? I remember hearing about it either two or three years ago." Jay mentioned, climbing onto the tank. The Loader shook his head as soon as Jay got on the turret.
"Nah. Haven't heard squat since then. One of the more famous tourist spots in Cyprus became abandoned though. So there's that," The Loader took his helmet off. "And among other news, midterms are approaching. We're going to need a hell of lot more votes if we're going to maintain this... err, occupation?" He asked, uncertain. "I'm not so sure if it's an occupation or just a recon operation. Sure ain't a 'Nam, but we're living under the shadow of it."
"You kidding?" The Gunner popped out of the turret and immediately took his helmet off. "Carter's sent us literally after Vietnam. If I ain't getting paid, I ain't fighting for Carter's war," He gritted out. "I mean come on! I almost got my throat ripped out by a fucking wolf! How the hell am I supposed to continue fighting if that's only compensated by a dollar and ninety-nine cents?!"
"You tell me," Jay muttered, taking his helmet off as well. "I'm more concerned about the hostile fire pay. You see this shit?" He glanced at the villagers who only glared at American soldiers. "How the hell am I going to tolerate that if my hostile fire pay is only, what, sixty-five dollars at most? Pfft," He snorted. "I'd rather get paid seventy just to not deal with this shit. At least I get compensated for being in a foreign country though."
"You guys signed up for the paychecks?" The Loader blurted out. Jay tried his best not to chuckle as he snapped his head to look at the Loader. The Gunner meanwhile could not stop himself from bellowing out. He held his stomach with his left hand and lightly smacked the turret with his right as he continued laughing. I guess the poor Loader signed up for something else.
"What the hell did you sign up for?"
"Dad. Part of a family tradition where we'd go to the army wherever our President commands," He said. "Looking at this I'd say I got luckier than my dad. Just barely though."
"What, your dad fight with his rifle in the jungles of Vietnam?" The Gunner asked.
The Loader shook his head and replied. "Nah. He got assigned to the 9th Infantry. Speedy Express. Nearly got cut down by a VC anti-air gun while he was evacuating."
"Jesus. Did he make it out whole?" Jay asked. The Loader nodded, which brought both him and the Gunner a little relief.
"Yea. Eventually, he got re-assigned to the ground forces though. Stayed in sentry duty until he got rotated out." The Loader noted, putting his helmet back on his head. He glanced back at the villagers in the village. Or, really, the new FOB we're working off. When Jay glanced at them, he saw a trench in the ground that was incredibly narrow. Yet it fit a squad. All in one trench awaiting the White Fang.
Jay moved his glance and saw the Mortar Carrier accompanied by the howitzers. 105mms, they were. They were mostly loaded with high-explosive rounds. There wasn't a need for fragmentation rounds when we were going to flatten the area around anyway. So why bother putting money into shrapnel projectiles when we could simply flatten them with the shockwave alone?
The 'Pathfinders' meanwhile made their way to guard the southeastern flank. Accompanying them was a unit of the Mechanized Infantry, comprised of their APC plus crew and a rifle squad. Meanwhile, two units of the Mechanized Infantry dug in and entrenched themselves to the northwest. With APCs having a ditch to fire machine guns from and the rifle squads getting a small squad-fitting trench to keep them in. And to the southwest, the artillery batteries - Mortar Carriers and Howitzers alike - were positioning themselves to provide artillery support.
And that just left the 86th Armored Recon Brigade in the center. Alongside the command APC, there was to be Jay's tank unit. To be precise, they would provide a bulwark against enemy forces. Jay had no idea what the commanding officer of the operation was thinking. Tanks don't make for good defense platforms, but maybe with the right cover, it's viable.
Now there was Jay's problem.
He had no 'right cover'.
The other tanks at least had the buildings of the village to cover them over in the Northwest, potentially taking RPG fire away from the tanks themselves. But Jay's tank? Hilariously, it was located in the dead center of the village. Just bait for RPG fire.
But if all went well, then Jay would have no need to be anywhere else but the center. Though given what he was supposed to expect, eh...
Jay knocked on the turret of the tank. "Back to work."
Upon hearing that, the Loader sighed. "Alright, El-Tee." He crouched back down and sat back down. The Gunner meanwhile nodded and sat back down. When those two closed their hatches, Jay opened the commander's hatch and slid inside. Sighing as he looked at the tank, he was glad that the M48 managed to iron out some of the more problematic features on the older models.
Jay was sure for certain that the Patton could survive several more RPG rounds into it now that it was improved.
Though he grimaced at his chances of survival. He at least hoped that the team would wake him up before the rest of the shooting started. Closing the hatch, he banged on the turret interior. "Everyone sounds off. I don't want all of you dropping dead in the middle of the tank."
"Yo. Here," The Loader commented. "Still alive and trying to survive. Loaded a round by the way."
"Reporting," The Gunner replied. Sighing on the radio as he said so. "Trying to make sure our sights aren't screwed up. Which, for the record, I will say is a harder task than originally so."
"Still on the wheel by the way," The Driver noted. "If I drop dead on the wheel, I blame it on the morphine I took."
"That's all sounded off?" Jay asked.
"Yea." The Loader commented. Everyone else grunted in affirmation.
"Right," Jay noted. "I'm going to take a nap. We've got two hours until active combat anyway."
"You sure, El-Tee?" The Loader commented. "I swear to God if you're not awake by the time we get into combat..."
"It'll be only two hours," Jay replied, positioning his head on the turret. "Driver. Turn the engine off. I'm going to take a nap."
"So will I, El-Tee," The Driver commented. "Just gotta stick through with this and I'll be able to get that paycheck finally I wanted. Though..." He sighed as he spoke into the radio, a clear sign that he would rather be anywhere else than Vermont. "Hopefully McDonald's doesn't notice I've gone out for several months. Sure I work there part-time, but still."
"Ha, you kids and your part-time jobs," The Loader commented in response. "My dad would've rather had me go through officer school because we got rich after he invested in some stocks following 'Nam. Too bad I picked the Guard first and foremost," he chuckled at that. "On one hand I'm not digging trenches so that's a waste of potential physical exercise. On the other hand, I love tanks."
"You make a compelling argument for going with the 86th Armored," Jay said. "I just got my transfer papers after three years of serving in some infantry unit. But honestly working for the 86th is the greatest thing I've done. Though the machine gun is..." Jay stopped to breathe and smack the M219 machine gun on the turret. "It sucks!" He shouted.
The laughs of the crew reverberated through the tank. "Oh hell!" The Loader commented as he bellowed out. "The M219's about as reliable as my girlfriend. Not that I have one of course," he commented. "If I did I'd probably be trying to find one that's rich as balls so I can brag about being able to marry into oil barons."
"Go find a Rockefeller," The Gunner commented, snickering. "They'll be very happy to accommodate you. Honest!" He chuckled as he said that. The Driver let out a little giggle while the Loader stayed silent.
At least before he broke said silence.
"Oh if only... I need me a Rockefeller girlfriend."
"Really now?" Jay asked.
"Yes. I am for real." The Loader answered. To Jay's surprise. He burst out in laughter and slapped his knee in response. The rest of the crew could only chuckle. The Loader had some aspirations.
"You'll get a rich nobility girlfriend. Someday." The Driver said, snorting a little. To be perfectly honest it was understandable that he'd snort, but who knows?
"Yeah, and you'll get loadsa kids!" The Gunner added. "Jesus H. Christ, I didn't know that Vermonters were this desperate for money."
"Right," Jay interjected while yawning, interrupting the discussion. Leaning to the right on the turret internals, he closed his eyes. "I'm going to sleep. Wake me up in two hours."
"Goodnight." The Loader replied.
The tank engine turned off as the crew prepared for a two-hour nap. The stress of being in a tank would hopefully go away if they got some nap time. As he was falling asleep, Jay thought about his job. As a twenty-three-year-old Second Lieutenant, he found it pretty liberating to be finally part of combat. Yet at the same time, the uncertainty of his survival chances scared him.
The rest of the unit dozed off almost peacefully, but Jay? He lasted thirty minutes more. The rest of the crew were tired, but Jay's mind forced him awake. He was thinking. How he was going to deal with his life after serving in Carter's little expedition. Hell. He was certain that he was going to be in some deep shit. He knew that when the CIA visited on March 16, they warned almost everyone in his FOB to stay silent. And when MACNE fully consolidated itself on March 17 or 18, the CIA requested that gag orders were to be distributed to all forces.
But he wasn't sure if he was going to stay silent. With the abominable wolves that counted as wildlife, the anomalous people that... just frankly were the oddest part to him, and then came the realization that this was a whole new world entirely. It just didn't sit right with him entirely. He couldn't fathom the existence of the creatures of darkness called the Grimm. They seemed to be made of pure darkness, and this was reflected even back on earth when the one-oh-five shells slammed into it like it was wet paper.
Yet, for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread and panic. Perhaps it was just combat stress getting to him, maybe it could be a side effect of inhaling the Grimm dust...
Eh, he didn't bother thinking about it. All he could think of was dozing off for an hour and a half.
Hopefully when he woke up something didn't happen.
Right?
Jay Ruben - Away from Point Zulu - March 22, 1977 (Earth Years) - 4:14 PM (Earth Time)
Jay woke up slowly, blinking his eyes as he rubbed his helmet with his right hand. Looking around the tank, he banged the internals of the turret. 'Did I take a long nap or something? Why the hell do I feel so tired...' He thought. Immediately, on the radio came the sound of the rest of the crew. All of them sounded very groggy. In fact, Jay was fairly certain he heard the Gunner mumble as he woke up.
"God... we all up?" Jay asked. He glanced down at the Gunner, who turned his head back to face him. Giving him a thumbs up, the Gunner turned back to using the sights.
"Yea! Though I'd like to admit that I never mentally got up until you freakin' banged on the turret," the Loader replied. "You think I can make a load of money off banging my head onto a turret? Y'know, for like, a comedy show?"
"I don't see why not," Jay murmured. "It's not like it was going to be really harmful." At that moment, Jay was feeling restless. Wanting to know what the hell the rest of the unit was up to, he glanced at the hatch on top of him. The uniform - OG-507 - was notorious for retaining heat extremely well. Which worked in colder environments like Vermont, however much to his chagrin, it also retained heat in a tank that felt sweaty to be in. Taking off his helmet and placing it on his lap, Jay let the hot air worsen the humidity of his sweaty hair.
Immediately he opened the hatch and put his helmet back on. Grasping the hatch's handles, he pushed it upwards, a clang sounding as it opened. For a second, he slinked back down into the tank to look at his crewmates. "Hey, Gunner, Loader. I'm going to be seeing if anyone's alive over there. Watch the tank for me, kay?"
He immediately pulled himself out of the tank after, throwing himself down. Turning a sharp left, he saw that one of the APCs had been parked right next to a trench. And on it, the machine gunner sat lazily, practically sleeping on the turret. Below him, the trench led to an open ramp from the M113.
Smirking in mild amusement, Jay walked towards the APC. Ostensibly to alleviate boredom, but really he wanted to see how people were doing. It felt more like exploring a town while everyone was sleeping - which, to be fair, they were - like stories from old books. As soon as he appeared next to the APC, he noticed that it wasn't a normal M113. Rather, the small turrets off to the sides with M60s told him that this was an M113 ACAV.
First, he climbed on the M113 and tapped on the turret. The gunner jolted awake and shook, turning to face Jay. Initially he wheezed and panicked, but calmed down once he realized that it was a friendly. The tank helmet and 'U.S. Army' on Jay's uniform told the ACAV gunner that. Looking at the M2 gunner's name, he saw 'J. Clarent' on it. And his rank was inferior to Jay's.
"What brings you here?" Clarent opened, glancing off to the two ACAV turrets next to him. "Gunners are all asleep. They've apparently decided that leavin' me alone is fine. So why're you here?" He looked back at Jay. Jay shrugged, an expression of mild confusion on his face. Clarent's tired and sunken eyes gave Jay the impression that he really didn't want to be here, and that was fine for him.
"Nothing. Just wanted to check on other troops," He said, looking at the trench. It was half-full, with five men inside the trenches. Jay couldn't tell if they were awake or not, so he just chose to let them be. Looking at the open ramp, he guessed where the other five went. Turning back to Clarent, he pointed his thumb at the trench. "Suppose half the guys decided to sleep in the tinbox?"
"Oh yeah," He replied, placing his arms on the M2HB to face Jay. "They've decided to wait out."
"Cool," Jay replied, looking down at the ground. "So, you hear anything on the radio?"
"Oh come on," Clarent scoffed. He pointed at the trench. "There's one guy in the trenches with a radio. Lucky bastard's managed to kill boredom by playing tunes to pass the time. And as far as I'm concerned it's working. Even if, well," He squinted off to the sides and rolled. "Half of the trench's asleep for one reason or another."
"Mhm," Jay replied. "So why're you... well, hostile about him? I mean, you don't exactly sound happy. Yet he's killed boredom, so why're you mad?"
"Ah. That's because he keeps playing friggin' disco!" He replied, raising his arms in frustration. "Not to mention the heat too! He's been playing Disco Inferno for the past two hours now! Unfortunate coincidence he says, bullshit I say!"
"Hmph. Guess disco ain't your style then?"
"Oh, I mean, it's okay," he stretched the word out, sounding mildly confused as he said so. "But goddamn don't be playing it for hours on end! That stuff's driving me insane. If I hear the radio talk one more time about burning... I'm going to throw a brick at that accursed radio, damn our boredom killing."
Clarent took a moment to breathe and readjust himself. He took his goggles off and placed them atop his helmet, the Mitchell cover having been graffitied with 'First Lyndon, Now Carter' and 'Welcome to Vermont, the Pay's Good' on the helmet. Jay didn't write anything on his helmet, even if he was issued a marker to write tactical plans and memos. He had it in his pocket as he spoke, yet never bothered to use it.
Glancing down at his pocket, he thought about it.
'Hmm, should I...? I mean... not like I can get yelled at...' Jay thought, grabbing the marker from his pocket. Clarent raised an eyebrow as Jay took off his helmet and uncovered the marker.
"You sure you gonna do that?" Clarent asked. "I mean, I got away with it. But I'm of a lower rank than you, First Lieutenant," he noted. "You sure Colo-Or, sorry, General Blake de Zwart's going to accept that from an officer?" He asked, crossing his arms. "I won't blame you if you decide to write anything on the helmet. Just be warned that you might get a chewing out from our local commanding officer. Again, one certain de Zwart."
Jay nodded. The cold air of the Vale village clashed with his sweaty head, so he longed for the helmet back. That being said, he wanted to put something down.
"Do what you want then," Clarent said. "Just don't be surprised if General de Zwart yells at you or something," He said. "By the way, I never caught your name. I'm Jean Clarent, 1/101st. You?"
Jay looked at him and answered. "Jay Ruben. 86th Armored Brigade. Commander of A Troop, and the leader of thirty-two crewmen and ten maintenance men. Right now it's only twelve, the rest are still being processed."
"Got it. Never thought I'd be interacting with the leader of the operation, but here I am," Clarent mumbled. "By the way. Is First Lieutenant Wallace detached from your unit? Because I remember that your tanks have a dedicated command APC. Wonder where that is?"
"Yeah. de Zwart detached him from the 86th for this operation and gave him command apparently. Didn't know about it until we talked about it. Hell, I didn't even know who Wallace was, or that we even had a command APC. But after this op, he's going to be integrated. I think he's getting a promotion to Lieutenant proper. Not sure though."
"Right, right," Clarent glanced over. "So what now?" He asked hands back on the machine gun turret. As he said that, Jay had finished writing on his helmet, and inspected it. The phrases 'I'm Still in Vermont Mom', 'Hit In Case WW3 Breaks Out', and 'Thirty-Two Crew, Ten Wrenches' were written on his helmet. Satisfied, Jay smiled as he wiped his helmet and put it on his lap. And to answer Clarent's question, he turned to look at him and shrugged.
"Well, I guess we just await... dunno, the days to pass by?"
"...Uh, okay. Oh! By the way, did Lieutenant Wallace give you any update on reinforcements?"
"Ah, no reinforcements I believe? They said that we're not to expect helicopters or any reinforcements until at least a week later. We're on our own. At least for today."
"Bugger."
"I know, Clarent, I know."
Jay and Clarent ceased their conversation after that and just stared off into the distance, quickly glancing at each other before glancing back in the distance. Sunset had arrived, and with it, accompanying darkness. While the two were chittering and chattering, the sun had quickly gone down, leaving a darkening environment that gave Jay a pause.
Putting his goggles on and putting the marker back in his pocket, he crossed his legs and stared off.
Yet, a dreadful feeling found itself growing in Jay.
And it was getting harder to dislodge.
He glanced at the soldiers in the trench they had dug before turning back to the darkening forest.
'Wait, were those...'
He squinted, leaning forward of the APC. Clarent glanced, bemused at Jay.
"You alright?"
"I think I see something in the distance," Jay said, pointing his finger off in the distance. "You see that?" He said. Clarent, for his confusion, followed where Jay was pointing and squinted. At first, he would've thought that Jay genuinely had something going on. Yet, when he squinted, Clarent could make it out faintly. A vague shape in the distance and what appeared to be white specks in his vision.
Jay put his helmet on and prepared his Grease Gun. While Clarent pulled the charging handle back on the M2HB, still squinting.
"You don't think those are?-" Clarent asked, before a tracer flew over his head, causing both him and Jay to duck. As soon as three more tracers flew over his head, Clarent returned fire with the machine gun while Jay dove down into the ground. The sound of a blown whistle and flares launched to illuminate the forest made Jay get back up.
He took his helmet off, wincing as the machine gun fire rang in his ears. That being said, he could hear Clarent's yelling.
"IT'S THE GODDAMN WHITE FANG!" Clarent shouted, machine gun opening up in bursts as tracers flew over his head. He turned his head to Jay and screamed as tracers lit up the sunset sky. "Go! Get back to your tank! Alert the rest!"
Jay nodded and quickly ran back, putting his helmet back on and dashing away just as the riflemen in the trenches returned fire. As he ran back and witnessed the village's lights turning back on, he glanced back and saw tracers light up the darkening sky. Green from the White Fang clashed with Red from the National Guard as both sides exchanged fire.
Seeing his tank, Jay climbed up and slinked inside the hatch, shaken and twitching as he took a minute to wheeze in and out. His gunner looked back at him and the loader glanced to the right.
"You alright?" The Loader asked, looking at Jay. Jay, for his part, snapped his head to him and closed the hatch. He would have said something when the radio came on.
"All forces, this Papa Bear," Lieutenant Wallace's voice came on. The Papa Bear callsign was to be used, but the convoy chose to refer to their roles when trucking. Came to an agreement that the Mayflower Occupation Force would use its formal callsigns when they were in combat. Jay didn't think he'd have to use them, yet here he was. "Mayflower is under attack! I repeat Mayflower is under attack! We're reporting shots from the North and East. All available forces, respond. Over."
"This is Alpha 1-1," Jay replied. He was part of the Alpha Team, which comprised of the four tanks in the operation. The fact that tanks were chosen for exploration at all was an oddity, but perhaps it could come in handy. His tank was Alpha 1, and he was the Squad leader, thus defaulting it to Alpha 1-1. "We're up and available," Jay said, glancing at his crew. "Shots have been first reported from the East. Can you call up Zulu Team, over?"
"Copy that Alpha Team," Lieutenant Wallace responded. "Alpha 1-1. Can you support Echo Team? Zulu Team has requested armor presence if you're going to have them back up Echo."
"Wilco, Papa Bear, I was going to request permission to support Echo," Jay replied. "Tell Zulu Team we're on our way. We'll link up to repel enemy forces in the forest."
"Copy that Alpha 1-1. Do what you can. Out."
As the radio chatter ended, Jay looked at the driver and shouted over the radio. "Driver! Get us east! We've got to reinforce Echo's APC!" He shouted, pulling the charging handle on the M219 machine gun. The machine gun rattled and Jay looked at it alarmed. He had heard of the poor reputation the M219 machine gun had gotten among his fellow tank crewmen. In particular, Corporal Toast once complained that it had poor maintenance and was hard to keep running. Internally, he hoped to God that the machine gun wouldn't screw up.
Looking back at him, the driver nodded.
"Copy that, sir! Driving!"
The tank shifted to the left and advanced forward. Presumably, heading east. Jay peered through the sights on the machine gun, observing as tracers lit up the sky and it was a gun battle between entrenched soldiers and a large White Fang assault. Taking his eyes off the machine gun, he looked at his gunner and gave him an order.
"Gunner. HE. Personnel. Bearing... 45," Jay ordered. "Anti-Personnel HE, by the way."
"HE indexed!"
"Fire, fire!"
"Shot out!" The Gunner shouted, firing an HE shell out of the 105mm tank gun. "Impact!"
Jay looked through the sights to see an HE shell go off in the distance. He was unable to tell how much White Fang that shell would have killed. "Unable to confirm how many killed," He commented. "Load another HE shell. Save this one for when we're next to Echo Team. Copy that?"
"Got it, boss," The Loader noted. "Loading HE."
"Copy that." The Gunner replied.
The tank came to a halt near the M113 APC and the trench to its right, the defenders valiantly firing off round after round as if it was a trench defense. The M113's machine gun fired off rapidly as it tried to hold its position. The moment the tank stood side by side with it, a wave of relief washed over the entrenched soldiers and the gunners of the M113.
On the M113, the front gunner and right gunner returned shots against the White Fang as the hail of bullets didn't seem to stop. In the dark, lit up by flares, they could only see a moderate distance. Enough to get a bead on where the tracers came from, yet not enough for them to get a bead on their enemies. Turning its turret, the Patton aimed at the tracers' direction.
"Gunner! HE! Personnel! Bearing 30!" Jay shouted as the tank gun aimed up to compensate for distance, almost akin to an ersatz artillery battery.
"Target acquired!"
"Fire!"
The tank gun rang out a shot, with the resulting explosion being bright enough to momentarily reveal the White Fang. At that moment, Jay used the machine gun to open up on the White Fang. But when the light had gone out, he frowned in irritation. He switched the frequency to the occupation force's and spoke as he opened fire on the tracers, trying to get the White Fang vainly in the darkness.
"Foxtrot, do you copy?"
"Foxtrot 1-1 reports presence, send, over," The voice of Lieutenant Chavez came onto the radio. "What do you need?"
"Foxtrot 1-1, requesting illumination rounds. Bearing 30 Northeast. Send, over." Jay said, firing the machine gun as he spoke onto the radio. The noise of the machine gun was muffled by the helmet he used, with its weight, density, and communication equipment rendering it all but impossible to hear and perceive things besides the radio.
It was why he needed to remove his helmet whenever he spoke.
"Foxtrot 1-1 copies," Chavez replied. "How many rounds? Over."
"Two rounds."
"Sending, over."
"Alpha 1-1 copies. Thanks for the help, over."
"No problem. Impact in thirty seconds. Out."
Jay nodded and switched to the crew frequency, looking down at his gunner as he blindly fired out of the machine gun. "Gunner! Co-ax!"
"Got it!" He shouted as the coaxial machine gun on the turret started firing. The turret swept the dark, relying on blind tracer fire to keep track of targets. Jay internally wished that there'd be light as soon as possible, but he bit his lip upon realizing that it'd be a few more seconds before the light came on. But regardless, he prayed to God that the machine gun on his tank wouldn't fail.
Yet, while firing, he could hear something faint on the radio. Jay turned his head to the left, even though he was inside the turret. Switching to the occupation force's overall network, he wanted to know why that was so.
To his surprise, it was a song. Drowned out by the gunfire sure, yet it was hearable still. He increased the volume on his radio, trying to get a bead on it. To his frustration, the gunfire grew louder, almost hammering at his ears. Yet, he wanted to know what damn song was playing on the radio.
When he finally adjusted the volume to the maximum, he could finally hear it!
It was-
Wait!
"Is that fucking Disco Inferno?!" Jay asked on the radio. Given that Clarent - the APC gunner of Echo 1 - complained about one soldier playing Disco, he immediately knew it came from Echo. To his annoyance, he heard a chuckle in the middle of gunfire and the song.
"Burn, baby burn!"
"Disco Inferno!"
"Burn, baby burn! Burn that mother down!"
"Yep, it is!" An unfamiliar voice interjected. "Armed Forces Network finally fuckin' repaid me for lending me my goddamn records!" They said, even as the sound of gunfire overpowered both their voice and the music for a moment.
"Goddamnit!" Jay shouted, a slight frown forming on his face. Yet, he also found it... actually amusing. To think that they weren't fighting to the tune of Volunteers, or Fortunate Son like expected... It brought a slight smile to his face.
In between the machine gun fire, Jay's thoughts ran astray as he brought himself to laugh at the situation.
'They could've played ANYTHING ELSE, like...'
'Volunteers, for the irony of being voluntold into Carter's war.'
'Or Fortunate Son, because I sure as hell wasn't able to avoid this stupid deployment.' He thought, his slight smile turning into a grimace for a second. Yet it reverted as his thoughts ran rampant.
'But no! We're fighting to the tune of Disco!' Jay chuckled, as the illumination shells finally gave the unit the visibility they needed. He didn't stop laughing, even as he was able to spot the White Fang visibly now. He watched as one White Fang fighter helplessly stared at the sky before Jay put a bullet through his head. Through the sights, he could see it exploding.
Blood should not have that much pressure.
'Fuckin' Disco Inferno too!' He thought, even as he switched targets and gunned down another fighter, this time attempting to set up a machine gun. They dropped like a sack of potatoes. 'I'd be laughing more if we had napalm, but by Jove,' He thought, paying more attention to his thoughts as he kept shooting at the White Fang. 'Burn that mother down!'
He cackled as he let the machine gun go wild on White Fang fighters without a second thought.
"We've got a bloodthirsty knight I see," The voice of Lt. Dan commented, a slight chuckle on it. The mere thought of that snapped Jay back to reality as he slowed down his laughter and kept shooting, yet didn't bother cackling. When Jay glanced inside the turret, the Loader gave him the stink-eye immediately when they made contact. An expression that could only translate to 'what the fuck'. "This is Lieutenant Dan. Zulu 1-1, for you."
"Good to see you, Zulu 1-1," Jay commented. "Are you able to provide covering fire for Echo Team?"
"Can do, Alpha 1-1," He replied. "Want us to position our APCs near some trees? Cover and Concealment can overlap depending on the caliber you're facing, after all."
"Just do what you can, Zulu 1-1."
"Copy. Oh, wait! Alpha 1-1, do you need us to send out the pathfinders? If you can distract them by putting enough firepower on them, they can get close enough to engage the White Fang at range."
"Do it!" Jay responded.
"Zulu copies. Give us a minute, over."
"Copy that Zulu. Do it as fast as you can. Please. Out."
As their lines of communication changed, Jay switched to Alpha Team's radio frequency. The one that connected all four tanks together. Grimacing, he wasn't expecting the best news, yet a part of him also told himself to expect bad news.
"This is Alpha 1-1, Alpha Team, how are we doing?"
"This is Alpha 2-1," The second tank - Tank 2- responded, the voice of its commander sounding exhausted. "We're currently at a standstill. No advances yet, just tracer exchanged... Died down right now, but it'll flare up in a minute."
"Alpha 3-1 reporting from the Northwest," The third tank responded, its commander wheezing. "We've encountered anti-tank munitions and forces equipped with det-packs."
"Say that again?" Alpha 2-1 responded, the voice concealing fear beneath a confused voice. "Anti-tank munitions?"
"Alpha 4-1 here, can confirm Alpha 3-1's statement," Another voice interjected, this time belonging to the fourth tank. "Be advised. Enemy forces have started deploying... bomb trucks. I can't find another way to call 'em, but they've got bombs strapped to vehicles. Beware of those."
"Goddamnit," Jay grit. "Copy that. Alpha Team, be advised that you can contact Foxtrot Team. My advice is to request illumination shots, then hit 'em with high-explosive. Once you've done the same, tell us when you're finished. We'll need Foxtrot as well."
"Alpha 2-1 copies."
"Alpha 3-1 copies."
"Alpha 4-1, wilco."
"Godspeed, all of you. Alpha 1-1 out." Jay closed communication lines and switched the frequency to the overall occupation force's frequency. He put his hands on his cheeks and dragged them down a bit as he sighed.
"All forces be advised. Forces to the Northwest report vehicle-borne bombs and anti-tank munitions in use by White Fang."
"Godfucking damnit!" Lieutenant Dan yelled. "Pathfinders, get there ASAP!"
"Echo Team copies," The voice of Echo Team's commander noted. "Pulling back APC. Think you can cover us, Alpha 1-1?"
"Copy. Be advised that our side armor's not the best, so we're only going to angle slightly to the right, out."
"We get that. Echo Team out."
He looked back at his unit and switched to the radio frequency for the tank crew. Again, due to the deafening status of Jay's - and the crew's - helmets, they need a separate radio frequency to talk inside the tank.
"Goddamn rocket launchers," The Loader commented. "How the hell did the White Fang get their hands on those? Thought they were a simple insurgency?"
"They're like the goddamn Viet Cong, that's how," The Gunner interjected. "Probably receive backing from at least one of the powers! I swear, we'll be dealing with this world's Reds soon enough."
"Is it too soon to say that I want out of this mission?" The Driver asked, inflection extremely negative as he let out a sigh immediately. "Carter, I swear, my life's in your hands. I'll strangle you from the grave if I don't get out of here."
"Are you gonna vote Republican too?"
"Sure as hell," The Driver chuckled at that. "If it means Carter pays after I'm gone, sure."
Jay could only sigh as the machine gun fire continued. "Driver. Angle to the right. We need to use the tank to cover Echo Team's APC. Block the APC's body and leave only the machine gun turret exposed."
"Roger that, sir," He commented. "By the way. Is Echo still playing Disco Inferno?"
"Burn, baby burn!" The switching of radio frequencies for a second answered that question, as shouts from the rifle infantry and gunfire clashed with the radio, playing Disco Inferno.
"Still is." Jay noted.
"Copy."
As the tank inched right to protect Echo Team's APC, the turret and machine gun turned left. The illumination rounds were halfway from falling on the ground.
"Alpha 2-1 here. Foxtrot's all yours, Alpha 1-1. Over."
"Thanks. By the way, did you add anything special to Foxtrot?"
"Oh, requested the Killer Junior. When you get 'em, ask for a KJ. They'll get it, okay?"
"Roger that. Will do, Alpha 2-1. Out." Jay nodded, looking through the sights of the machine guns. Irritated, he noticed that the illumination shells were going to hit the ground in some time.
"Foxtrot, do you receive, over?"
"Foxtrot 1-1 copies, send. Over."
Jay sighed, and glanced back at his loader, who nodded. "Foxtrot 1-1. Requesting illumination shells from all Foxtrot batteries. Two shells each, over."
"Foxtrot 1-1 copies. Illumination rounds loaded."
"By the way," Jay opened up, peeking through the sights. Alarmingly, he noticed the White Fang fighters standing up, running, then diving to the ground before returning fire. It seemed like they were poised to do a mass charge, given that flares were almost out. Gritting, he ordered a KJ as suggested. "I'd like to request an order for a KJ. Bearing 30 Northeast. White Fang have started to levy en masse and are opening up for a charge," He sighed for a second and squeezed his face, before continuing. "I don't know what the hell a KJ is, but do your magic. Anything to keep those damn assholes away."
"Copy that. Foxtrot 1-1 reporting all batteries ready to fire KJ. How many salvos, over?"
"I, uh," Jay stammered. "Dunno, two?"
"Copy. Foxtrot 1-1 receives the message. Out."
Jay sighed, closing his eyes and massaging his head. He was feeling a headache come, and it was just because of poor sleep combined with combat in the middle of the night. Yet, he still had the machine gun to put them down. Round after round, 7.62x51mm came soaring at White Fang forces. Though with the illumination rounds falling to the ground, he started losing vision.
"Shit!" The Gunner shouted, with Jay looking down to see him panicking. "Co-ax's jammed! Co-ax is combat ineffective, I repeat, machine gun is combat ineffective! We cannot provide fire support with our machine guns!"
"Goddamnit-" Jay was about to mutter before the machine gun on his cupola jammed. Wide-eyed, Jay stared at the machine gun in rage. He let go and smacked it, hoping to get something out of it. To his surprise, hot brass spilled into his hand, and he recoiled, sending it flying inside the turret. "Machine gun's jammed here too!"
"Oh, for crying out loud!"
Jay returned to seeing through the sights of the machine gun, even if it was practically useless. When he peered outside, he was shocked to see that the illumination had all but dropped to the ground, reverting the view of the unit back to square one. Frustrated, he switched frequencies. "Echo Team! Expect a levy en masse! Our flares're out, and they're posing for a charge!"
"Roger that! The infantry team just sent out a team to retrieve a machine gun from a truck located in the village, they'll be back soon! Until then, we hold, Alpha!"
"Wilco! Hey, actually-" Jay interjected, pushing the hatch open to button up. "Can one of you pass me your rifle?! Our machine guns are broken, and I don't think a submachine gun is going to be of any use!" He yelled before he took his helmet off and turned right to face Echo Team as the tracer back-and-forth died down, mostly for a second. Immediately, an infantryman from Echo's Mechanized Infantry tossed an M16A1 his way. Jay caught it mid-air, pulling the charging handle to check if it was loaded.
There was a bullet in the chamber.
Nodding, Jay gave him a thumbs-up. Yet, the man didn't finish apparently, because he climbed onto the tank. "Hey!" He said, procuring five M16 magazines from his inventory. "Take these! You'll need 'em to pick off the bastards!" He shouted, before jumping off the turret and diving back into the trenches.
Jay nodded and placed them in his pockets before putting his helmet back on. He had no LCE, so the best he could do was in his pockets. Hopefully, he would get an LCE or bandoleer later on.
He took aim, expecting the tracer exchange to restart. As expected, the exchange continued, as a tracer whizzed over his head. He ducked and popped back up, aiming at the White Fang forces, even if he could barely see. Just take aim at the tracer sources and open fire. It was that simple.
He fired off a shot, then another, and then another. The semi-automatic shots taken would have been more of a reward than a detriment in this case. He sighed in and let out a breath each time the trigger was pulled. Hopefully, he had done something right with this.
In a flash, however, the sky lit up a second time as the illumination rounds lit up the sky, showering the field with brightness. And in this brightness, Jay bore witness to his worst fears.
In the distance, the White Fang forces launched a last-ditch mass charge against the forces of MACNE. Switching from semi-auto to full-auto, Jay opened fire against their forces. The first one he aimed at, he immediately held the trigger, refusing to do it in controlled bursts. They tripped and slammed into the ground backward as their chest was pelted with bullets.
The second time he took aim, Jay fired off in a controlled burst this time. They directly hit the target's leg, and caused them to trip and stumble into the ground, before bashing their head into a nearby tree.
And the third time-
Jay panicked and ducked down. To his horror, he saw a missile streak in the sky, having missed its intended target - presumably the tank turret. He slammed the hatch down, holding his M16. "DRIVER! THEY'VE STARTED USING ANTI-TANK MISSILES! REVERSE, REVERSE!" He barked, panicking. He could feel himself sweating again, yet this time in a cold one.
"SHI- REVERSE, REVERSE, REVERSE!" The Driver shouted, Jay jerking as the tank drove backward. When Jay looked through the sites again, he panicked as he saw a White Fang team handling an anti-tank missile system. He was going to bark something, but it was too late, as the team fired the anti-tank missile. And this time, Jay saw it streaking directly toward the tank.
"INCOMI-"
The shout Jay prepared died inside his throat as the turret shook under the direct impact of an anti-tank missile, recoiling Jay, and causing his head to slam on the tank turret. His head ringing, Jay massaged his head as much as he could, digging his fingernails into his skin slightly. He blew his mouth and rocked his head back and forth as the ringing continued.
Almost immediately though, another anti-tank missile hit the tank as the hull shook, causing Jay to slam his head on the turret again.
"Goddamnit!" Jay shouted, shaking his head rapidly to get himself awake. But the ringing wouldn't go away, no matter how much he wanted it to. He snapped to his loader, and-
His eyes widened and he stared at horror as the loader was slumped, and blood dripped from his face.
"Loader's down! I repeat! Loader's down!"
His gunner snapped back and stared up at the loader. "Fuck!" He turned around, and as did the turret. "OH SHI- COMMANDER! LOOK!"
"What?!" Jay shouted, looking through the sight of his machine gun. When his eye pressed against the telescopic sight of the cupola, he dropped his jaw in horror as the sky lit up to reveal three 'hippie vans' with what looked to be barrels strapped to them. All of them were charging forward alongside the White Fang mass levy, firing at the defense line.
'Bomb Trucks!'
Jay barked out a command almost immediately. "Take out those bombs! Now!"
"Aye-aye, sir!" The turret moved, aiming at one of the bomb trucks. "Firing HE!"
The shell almost immediately impacted one of the bomb trucks, and instantly destroyed it, with the wreck detonating and taking several fighters near it.
"Loader's still out! We're sitting ducks! Get us the hell outta here!" Jay shouted. To his surprise, the Driver was awake. Immediately he tried to drive away, only for Jay's eyes to widen as they didn't move anywhere.
"What the hell?!" Jay shouted, getting up and popping the hatch open. He immediately lifted himself up further to take a look at the tank. But he could barely something that told him all he needed to know about their current condition.
While he could only see a small part of it, the telltale sign of a broken track had shown itself. He grimaced and went back in the tank to alert his squad and retrieve the M16 inside.
"Track's out!"
"What?!" His driver yelled.
"Track's fuckin' out!" Jay shouted, hands on his rifle as he went back up. "I'm going to fend 'em off!" He pushed himself up, M16 in hands and ready to fire. When he took aim, his eyes widened as he saw that the mass charge of White Fang were close enough to the trench lines, exchanging fire with the entrenched soldiers. He was lucky he didn't get as soon as he popped up out of the trenches.
He was about to aim but ducked down after an anti-tank missile nearly struck him directly in the head him again.
"Shit! Shit!" The bursts of rifle fire coming from Jay weren't hitting anything as far as he could see. Even if they launched a mass charge, it seemed that somehow - this time - Jay couldn't take even one of them down.
The rifle clicked dry, and in frustration, Jay tossed the magazine away, grabbing a new magazine from his pocket, then reloading it. He didn't bother to aim this time, only firing blindly while cooped up in the cupola.
They better-
His rifle shattered as a bullet pierced its receiver, ceasing Jay's fire. He ducked down and looked at the rifle, and where it was hit. "Goddamnit!" He shouted, tossing it out of the tank, then grabbing the hatch and slamming it shut. He quickly snapped to the machine gun sight, and to his horror saw two of the bomb trucks getting very close to the tanks.
"Bomb truck! Brace for impact!" He warned.
'Please, God, anything... get us outta here!'
He anxiously watched as a bomb truck inched closer toward the tank, the face of the driver - radicalized and feral - visible through his machine gun sight. A part of him wanted to duck and brace for impact. Yet, another part wanted to keep his eye on his potential killer one last time.
Sighing, he just hoped-
To his surprise, the bomb truck immediately exploded, with the second one having its driver shot and driving erratically before detonating. When Jay adjusted his machine gun sights to the right to face Echo, he was surprised to see that Echo had indeed managed to get an M2HB machine gun and a tripod to support it. Alarmingly though, it had no cover, boldly standing in the face of tracer fire that nearly took out the machine gunners.
As the illumination shells were about to burn out, the sky lit up again, brightening once again as new illumination shells glowed in the sky, basking the forest in holy light of the United States Army.
"Echo Team here! We've got our machine gun! Sit tight, we'll put 'em down!"
Then when he turned the sights to the left, he saw the mass charge being peltered as explosions burst in the middle of the air, blowing them back. This continued, with another explosion salvo detonating mid-air.
And then finally, a third salvo of airburst explosions stopped the mass charge in its track.
"Foxtrot Team here, KJs have been served! I repeat, KJs have been served! Don't forget to leave a tip, out!"
Irritatingly though, there were fighters who were able to get up, and some who dove to avoid the explosions' worst effects. He grit, switching radio frequencies in order to-
A mass of green sprung up from the grass of the forest, revealing themselves to be other National Guard infantry forces, coming out of the woodworks to ambush the rest. If Jay remembered correctly, they must have come from Zulu Team!
Zulu Team's infantry had managed to flank the Fang and avoided the artillery barrage that stopped the White Fang charge, and were picking off the stragglers, which included regular infantry, the anti-tank teams, and some riflemen with detonation packs on them. Through the sight, Jay saw they barked orders at the survivors, presumably ordering them to surrender. While most of them surrendered after the strike, some raised their weapons in a vain effort to retaliate against the American troops.
They were put down like the mad dogs they were, with the Pathfinders immediately shooting them dead.
"Zulu Team, reporting in. Pathfinders have managed to flank them. Though, Alpha, you forgot to tell us you'd invited other people into the fun. Out."
Jay leaned back and sighed in relief, refusing to believe what just happened. Through... perhaps divine intervention, or just... plain luck, they had managed to hold out. And from what Jay could remember, the White Fang force seemed to be in the extreme hundreds.
"Alpha 1-1, Alpha Team... we all right?" Jay asked, shaken by the fighting. Despite what it felt like, the battle had only lasted... two hours. His watch told him that as the clock ticked Six P.M.
"Alpha 2-1 reporting! White Fang's been squashed, we've made it!"
"Bravo Team here. Line held, we have successfully held the Alamo. I repeat, we have successfully held the Alamo."
"Charlie... God, I can't believe it... but we made it!"
The soldiers on the radio broke out into cheering. Jay glanced at his Gunner, and the Gunner responded by making eye contact with him, a smug shit-eating grin attached to his face. In response, Jay couldn't help but smile back.
Despite all odds, under-training, and the team being put in roles they were not used to, they had... made it! Everything seemed to be against them. With their low competence, troop morale, and troop discipline being sub-par... one would expect that they wouldn't make it out alive.
Yet...
Jay made it!
He glanced back at his loader, who...
Woke up!
The Loader grabbed his head, the bleeding having since stopped. He shook himself awake, and stared at Jay. His smile told the Loader all that he needed to know, and as such, the Loader shook his head.
"Is... is it over, boss?" He asked, breathing in relief.
"Yep! We've beaten back the foul curses that have afflicted our unit!"
"Hah..." He sighed, smiling and shaking his head. "It's over."
Jay couldn't help but feel the same thing, as he turned out the hatch, popping his head out to inspect the aftermath. What greeted him was the smell of lead, death, and blood. Yet... even with all that, he couldn't help but smile at the plain fact that they survived. Even with smoke billowing and the fire from high-explosive raging, he... just felt alive.
He took his helmet off, and was greeted...
By fucking disco!
"Burn that mother down!"
"Burn, baby burn! Disco Inferno!"
"Burn, baby burn!"
He laughed, even as Echo's radio continued to blare disco. Specifically, a song about burning. And, looking at the forest in front of him, boy did it burn.
He took the marker from his pocket. It had survived the battle, just like Jay. And, well, he wanted to commemorate this. He wanted to give a name to his unit, Alpha. To finally distinguish them. After all, the 1st Armored Cavalry earned their name of Old Ironsides, and the 101st Airborne earned Screaming Eagles.
Surveying the land, he saw, well, a lot of burning. The artillery, high-explosive, and bomb trucks had effectively cleansed the land in holy flame. As he turned his helmet over, he was trying to think of a name related to that. The 101st earned their nickname from the Battle of the Bulge. So, Jay was thinking, this unit of the 86th... they'd earn their name from this battle.
Yet, he didn't have any idea what to name it.
Latin came in handy.
"Let's see... Cleansing flame... Flame, flame, flame..." He mumbled, thinking about the name while looking at the forest tainted by combat. 'Wait,' Jay thought. 'Aha!' He thought, writing the first thing that came to his mind. The cleansing flame that had wiped the White Fang clean, to the theme of Disco Inferno. To hold the line and bringing holy light to cleanse the fighters who dared cross paths with the 86th and 1/101sts...
With hurried pace, he finished writing the name on the helmet. With one last stroke, he finalized it, as the name of his unit. It was to symbolize fire, and how it cleansed the White Fang's charging lines.
It was a glorious name.
He turned his helmet around, staring at the name he chose to give his squad.
They'd be proud of it.
"Ignis," he said, smirking at the thought of such a name. "Fire."
He put his helmet back on, ending the tune of Disco Inferno to his ears.
With a name like Ignis, Jay felt a lot more confident. Even with all the foul things Lady Luck could do, he was glad that he at least survived her wrath.
Though sighing, he wondered if she'd retaliate by sending a blood curse after him.
It wouldn't be out of character for her, after all.
But maybe, time will tell.
Just give it a while.
Author's Notes:
Woohoo! I finally managed to do this chapter! And while doing it, I was literally listening to Disco Inferno, which... in a military fic, disco isn't the top choice for an in-universe theme. Yet, this story takes place far, far before things like Metallica or Sabaton would be made. And in its place is an arc of music history that, unfortunately for Remnant, is very contagious.
And it's fuckin' Disco, baby!
Poor Remnant shall suffer under the throes of ten-minute Disco! Vale shall fall, then Atlas! Then soon, the whole world!
But in all seriousness, the story takes place months before Peak Disco would start taking over the American airwaves. As such, it felt appropriate for me to accelerate by making it popular with the troops in MACNE, then Remnant.
Also, yes. For some of my readers, you could tell that I was finally going to do this. It took me nine chapters, but Jay's unit is finally known as Ignis. Expect their competency to fluctuate in the coming chapters.
Beware that I may also feature people from other units, and... maybe even - gasp - the other arms of the government! Watch out, it's the CIA! Or CDC! Or FBI! Hell, even... Jimmy Carter himself!
But anyways, yes. Remember that this story takes place in the 70s. So try not to apply too much modern expectations to a nation recovering from the Oil Crisis, okay?
Have a great day, and I'll see y'all next chapter.
Peace out.
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