An Unwinnable War
Episode 12 - Vignettes
March 27, 1977
Four days after the Battle of Mayflower
"Why has our hazard pay been increased for our transfer to Vermont? The hell's going on there?"
- Anecdotal quote from the 107th Armored Cavalry Regiment, 1977.
Memoirs of 1st Lt. Jay 'Raptor' Ruben;
"See, the problem that lay within President Carter's war program is that sometimes it has very unintended effects. So, during the Unwinnable War, he mobilized the Ohio National Guard to go to Vermont, and among those is the 112th Medical Brigade of the Ohio Army National Guard. Okay, that sounds fine, right? See... the problem is that these National Guard personnel were, uh, part-timers in the NG and had full jobs at the Cleveland Clinic and Cleveland Metropolitan Hospital. Now, I have to ask—what happens when you mix MACNE deployments into this situation? If you guessed 'decline of Cleveland's healthcare,' then you'd be right!"
"And sure, while the CDC and its ilk were part of the, uh, Military Regional Command of MACNE, unlike the FBI or CIA, they weren't really given unlimited resources to deal with their specialties on Remnant. At least not initially—which would be a problem, but relatively tolerable if you had patience—but our issue is that... Well, for our first few months in Remnant, our objectives were revenge missions. Kill Grimm, establish FOB, then move on. Problem. It later turned out that the Grimm remains—y'know, the disintegrating stuff—turned out to be kind of contagious. And by contagious, we meant that we lost 2 Guardsmen to it. Died with symptoms similar to rabies. That rabies."
"And the White Fang, uh... Remember our ambush and how we wiped out both an attacking force and a FOB in retaliation for them spitting on us? Well, turns out that they were kind of unhappy with us. Very unhappy. So unhappy that they managed to disable an M113 and kidnap the 17-year-old machine gunner from it, to execute him to make a point. Though you probably know what happened to them in the long run, for us on the ground it was, well, harrowing. Though they did leave a bunch of clues like a poorly-executed easter egg hunt, so we sent the 107th ACR after them. Hence why they got the nickname of Overkill for a while."
"But, uh, yeah. That's the end of this chapter's memoirs. I remember them primarily clear as day. If you want more, I recommend you peruse some Vietnam War historians. There's one I know who's done a great book on how we went from losing in Vietnam to winning in Remnant in just four years. The tidbit that mentioned the 107th and the number fuckups of the 1-101sts was great. The book's called 'Victorious in Defeat - The United States Army from 1973 to 1979' and it's on in Barnes & Noble for 21 bucks. Go get it when you can."
"I hope you can enjoy the next page about my memoirs."
Jan Kaczynski - Cleveland, Ohio, United States of America - March 27, 1977 (Earth Years) - 10:02 AM (Earth Time)
A step up to the Cleveland Clinic should not have been this hard. And likewise, this goddamn weather shouldn't have been this hard. But Jan just guessed that Cleveland had everything going up against him. First with unbearable weather then next with a broken engine, forcing him to walk three goddamn blocks just to get to the Cleveland Clinic. Remind him why the hell he was in a place like this again.
A sigh escaped him as he shook his head and continued to march towards the Cleveland Clinic. But his eyes shifted as he noticed there was a lack of ambulances around the area.
Did today just become an uneventful day for most of them? Bah, it didn't matter. He just needed to get this simple blood test done as soon as possible, then he'd go back to editing for his newspaper. He had concepts of a plan for its stories and headlines, of course. Not an actual paper.
Yet.
He pushed the door open and was immediately greeted by a large queue of other people just like him. Men, women, children... All of them were just at this long waiting line. Waiting for something, he supposed. Which was strange. Normally these hospitals, cost be damned, would have a rather short waiting list. So what was up here?
A grumble in his stomach told him there was more at work here. Something strange. But he shook his head. Come on, his gut was the same instinct that got him into an awkward moment of fucking a College classmate just 20 minutes before class. So, there was no reason for him to trust his gut here.
Walking up to the front desk after the last person in queue—a woman looking to be in her mid-40s—left the front desk to go into the waiting benches. There were at least 23 people there. Huh. An oddity, but something he could just shrug off. He then marched forward after the woman left the queue, looking at the desk attendant in the hotel.
She looked... very tired today. Sagging eyebags and almost bloodshot eyes told him a story that he wanted to know. No black eyes. No bruises. Nothing there. It was just... all tiredness. What the hell was going on with her? He raised his eyebrows as he put his hands on the desk, beginning to speak about why he was here in the first place. "Hi," He opened up, silently wishing she could get better. It seemed like hell out here. "I'd like to request an ENT specialist," He said. He'd been having an annoying buildup of earwax. So hopefully an ENT should fix that. "Is there an opportune time?"
Rather than an immediate response, she sighed and shook her head, eyebags and bloodshot eyes still telling me a story worth a thousand words—just in the form of a facial expression. If she was photographed like this, it would be worth so much money. Something in his mind told him it would strike a nerve with medical personnel trying their best. "We're sorry sir," She said as she sighed deeply. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, we cannot guarantee an appointment with an ENT specialist," Well shit. "But you can sit in the waiting room. We are working to solve this issue as rapidly as we can."
Well, alright. He was confused about exactly what they meant by unforeseen circumstances... But given that she had bloodshot eyes and sagging eye bags. Well, after all, a picture tells a thousand words. So Jan just nodded, lifted his arms off the desk, and smiled. "Thank you," He said, but before preparing to leave, he kept looking at the attendant. "I hope you get a great rest, by the way."
She chuckled and shook her head. "That's the nicest goddamn thing that I've heard from someone who hasn't had to sacrifice their sleep today," She said, laughing. "I'll call you when there's an available ENT specialist. For now, just sit tight and keep waiting."
"Alright," Jan nodded. "Thanks for informing me. Hope it all gets better for y'all in Cleveland Clinic."
The attendant laughed once again. "Nicest goddamn thing I've heard in a while." She said before she turned back to the paperwork she was attending to before Jan walked over. Turning around, meanwhile, Jan walked over to the waiting area and scanned the area for a seat. Unoccupied and hopefully, uh, not filled with sharp shit or extremely dirty things.
Listen. He can tolerate a small amount of dirt, but extremely dirty things make him recoil in disgust. And that wasn't even mentioning his fear of sharp objects. Something about them combined with sitting down just made him shake, shiver, and cringe violently at the thought. Maybe he got killed by that method in a past life? Could be, couldn't be. Either way, that was irrelevant for now.
He celebrated to himself as he found a seat and immediately walked over to it, starting to sit on it and exhale a deep breath. Though he wondered if there was anything to do here at all. Bingo? Probably not an option. Any puzzle game? Christ, he didn't bring any with him. Read a novel? Well, shit, he chuckled to himself. He didn't bring anything.
Of course, that was because he never expected Cleveland Clinic to have such a long line today. So...
He looked at the person to his right—a woman cradling her baby, who was crying. The kid looked healthy, so he assumed that she was there for herself. Just had to bring the kid along because... Well, neglecting a baby is terrible to do. His mind still shuddered when he heard the myth of a shitty mom who left her kid alone with only food and diapers. He prayed to God that was false.
Otherwise, he'd be dead of heartbreak.
"Hey, uh," He opened up a conversation as the baby began to slumber rather peacefully. The woman, confused, looked up at Jan. "Any reason why the Clinic's taking so long to, uh, get our appointments?" He asked, curious. The rest of the people around him soon began to look at each other. Almost as if they were asking the same question. Well, he mused. Guess that he wasn't in this boat alone. That was spectacular to know in the long run, at least.
Made him feel less isolated.
"Truth be told," She said. "I think I know the reason why," She sighed heavily. "My ex-husband works at this hospital. On great terms with him for the record," She opened up, and Jan couldn't see her hiding anything, so she was truthful. Hopefully. "However, yesterday he gave me a call. Said that he was getting Federalized." Wait, that opened up a question in Jan's head.
"Federalized?"
"Oh yeah," She sighed, as another person joined the waiting queue at the front of the hospital. "He's also part-time National Guard."
"Weekend warrior? Part-time Doc?"
"Yeah," She glanced off to the side. "Said that he was being transferred to somewhere in Vermont."
"...You think the rest of the doctors were probably working in the Nat-Gee?" Jan asked eyes widened incredulously as he put his fist under his chin, still confused. How the hell did almost the entirety of Cleveland Clinic's staff find themselves mobilized by the National Guard?
"I wouldn't doubt it," She sighed as another wave of people coming in were put into the waiting queue. "The tee-vee probably has something about the federalization of my ex. You wanna go see if we can ask for it to be turned on?" She asked, turning to Jan.
"Oh yeah, sure," Jan nodded and stood up, walking over to the right to greet the desk attendant. As soon as he walked over, she looked at him, tiredly. Almost as if expecting to ask him about doctors. No. Nothing like that. "Hey, miss- Can you turn on the corner-mounted TV?" He asked. "Put on the news, please."
"...Sure," She said after a beat, blinking and all. She soon procured a remote. A luxury in Carter's America. Then, the television came on. "TV's on now."
"Thank you," Jan said, making his way back to the waiting queue. As soon as he sat down, he found himself staring at the television as the news came on. It was CBS. Huh, the headline this time was talking about...
His eyes blinked as he read that right.
"Following President Carter's new executive order, Executive Order 11977," The newscaster opened up. "The 107th Armored Cavalry Regiment of the Ohio Army National Guard has been federalized, and will soon be deployed to Vermont to join the other units in exercise," He continued. "Accompanying the 107th during their transfer will be the 112th Medical Brigade, specifically the 200th Medical Company-"
"Hey, my ex's deployed there." The woman from earlier said, still cradling her baby.
"-And then the 385th Medical Company. There have been, however, pushback efforts from the Republican Party. Senator Strom Thurmond has-"
Huh, Jan thought as the newscaster... Cronklite, he remembered his name was... He was off rambling about politics and military things. Now, he was supposed to be a newspaper editor- at least in theory, but he was new to this whole politics thing.
But perhaps, he thought.
We were in interesting times.
Peter Joseph - Forward Operating Base 'Fort Night 2, Vermont, United States of America - March 27, 1977 (Earth Years) - 5:07 PM (Earth Time)
"Yo Joseph," Muttered one of Joseph's squadmates as he looked over at the setting sun. "How's the weather there?" Joseph winced in frustration. Here comes another round of jokes about his height and his job as the M113 machine gunner again. Being in the 1/137th Armor made him want to gouge his eyes out. He lurched to the left, right hand on the machine gun, and gave the middle finger with his left hand.
"If I hear another goddamn weather comment I'll have your balls hanged with a coat hanger," He growled, brows furrowing in anger. God. Was it so hard to have a simple squad that wasn't made up of shit-eating morons? He peeled back and continued his duty as the machine gunner, grasping the M2 handles. "Want me to punt you over a mile?"
"If it helps, I'll suck your dick for five dollars."
"Fuck off, Payne."
A chuckle from Payne, the squadmate, was enough to make Joseph roll his eyes and pout. Why the hell was this idiot his friend again? Come on. They spent a good portion of their lives as friends. And just like always, he was idiotic and had the reading comprehension of a walnut.
But enough about that.
"In lighter news," Joseph said as he continued manning the machine gun, but head leaning to the left to talk with Payne. "You heard about the 1/101st?"
"The Cavs?"
"Yeah. Those 1/101sts."
"What 'bout them?"
"Well," He sighed. "They've come back to Fort Night II with tales about how they saw the most action out of all of us over here in MAC-NE. Seeing action in Vermont, of all places to see action in."
"Well," Payne said as he laid his rifle next to some crates. "I wanna know now. What the hell were they talking about? Like, did they fuck a buncha people or-"
"Why does it always have to be about sex?"
"...Sorry."
"Right. So, the Cavs... Well, uh, apparently they had to dig a defense line against what they've described as just... a sort of mini-Ia Drang? Yeah, that Ia Drang." Joseph couldn't believe it himself, at first. Hell, it didn't feel like LZ X-Ray. But when he saw the anti-tank munition marks on the M48 Patton that the 86th Armored brought in, he knew they weren't bullshitting him. "They managed to do better than even they expected when all hell broke loose."
"Shit," Payne muttered, eyes widening in awe and his jaw slacking off and drooping. "How many are the tactical kill count on their defense?" Joseph doubted the numbers at first, but after managing to snag a conversation with a Pathfinder who managed to get there firsthand... Well, he didn't doubt them any more. Though Payne was probably going to be baffled.
"Well," Joseph shrugged. "Body count, apparently uninflated, tells me that they managed to get five hundred. None of them civilians- Hell, the civs stayed behind and were hiding in their homes the whole time. Attackers came in charging like wild, mad men with steroids in their goddamn veins. No thoughts in their head, from what I was told. I think one of the gunners- Some guy whose name started with an R- Spoke about how they came in charging like suicidal madmen."
"Yeesh. And they seriously expected to win against..." Payne stopped. "Wait. Joseph, what other units were in that area during their combat?" He asked. That caused Joseph to stop for a second and recall. What units were present during that battle?
"If my memory serves me correctly once again," Joseph noted as he stopped what he was thinking for a second. "I think it was the 1st Battallion of 172nd Armor, second platoon. Accompanying them were, uh, 1/101st Mech, 1/101st Field Artillery, and, uh, 1/101st Infantry."
"Wait, 1/101st field artillery? The towed guns?"
"Apparently. Why?"
"How the hell did they transfer those over there? I mean- you didn't mention helicopters and such. But, still... How the hell did the 1/101st Field Artillery tag along with the other 1/101sts for this little battle?"
"They, ah, apparently had vehicles to transfer them over."
"And they managed to catch up to the tanks and APCs?"
"Apparently."
"Why in God's name would you want to combine the 1/101st Field Artillery with the 86th and the 1/101st? Who the fuck thought that was a good idea?"
"Someone from brass forget to specify which 1/101st, apparently."
"Oh," Payne sighed. "It's over, isn't it?"
"It's always been over, Payne."
"Right," He nodded, before turning back to Joseph. "Shit, that reminds me- Who were these attackers again? Were they like..."
"Well," Joseph chuckled. "I mean, we're not actually in Vermont. So..."
"Yeah. That rules out any crazy kooks. So, who the hell was it then?"
"One of the locals talked with, uh, the R-name guy," Joseph said, mind in overclocking mode as he worked to remember the name of the tank crewman with that name. "Said that they apparently were called the White Fang. Some terrorist organization that, uh, hated humans."
"Jeez."
"Yeah. For the record, we were supposed to be deployed into Vermont, at least officially. But, uh," He glanced around the landscape, hands still on the machine gun as he looked over at the forests. "This ain't Vermont."
"Right. So who are these White Fang exactly?"
"Well. You're familiar with the CIDG section of our forces, right?"
"Oh yeah. The ones with the, uh... Bunny ears 'n all? Fox ears 'n shit? That one?" He asked, getting a nod from Joseph in response. "I'm still weirded out by them, for the record. I mean- It still baffles me on how they get to maintain their lives with all the extra shit. Can you imagine if I had extra ears as a regular dude?" A scoff and a chuckle escaped Payne. "Dude. I'd be going insane."
"Well, they just live with it, I suppose," He shrugged. "Much better at, uh, adapting to the times than Mint." At that point, Payne just chuckled. Oh, Mint. Our squad's greatest idiot, but might as well be our top guy in being a yearning moron.
"That's just true," Payne nodded. "Mint'd immediately start to jerk off."
"Never say that again."
"Right, sorry..."
"Anyway. Fang're basically those people, except that due to mistreatment by humans... They've been pushed over the edge and are now mad. Like, really mad. Mad enough to open fire on us first simply just for being human."
"Oh."
"Yeah. We took a guy prisoner after a failed ambush, and we interrogated him- Asked him about his allegiance and what he does and all. All we got in response is that he hates us because we're human and thinks that we're the oppressors."
"Well," Payne noted. "Could be worse."
"Could be." Joseph conceded.
At that moment, Joseph's head snapped to the left to see Mint frantically running to the position of both him and Payne. He looked to be wheezing, with his eyes in full panic mode, widened and bloodshot. His face seemed to be full of sweat which beaded down. And his clothes were splotches with water, LCE and all seemingly soaked. "The hell happened to you?" Joseph said as he let his hands go off the machine gun to meet Mint.
"Private Anderson-" He wheezed out, eyes still bloodshot and his breathing panicked, sweat running down his beads while he clutched his knees. "He's- Oh God," He wheezed out one more time, before seemingly regaining his breath and staring back up at the both of them. "Private Anderson's been hospitalized. Something's gotten to him, and we're afraid that it might be killing him."
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Payne asked, looking at Mint. "And the hell is with your wet gear? You know the Quartermaster's gonna yell at us for that, right?"
"Guys! Just listen to me for once!" He wheezed out, Joseph glancing at Payne and almost chewing him out for this one when another soldier ran to their position, presumably following Mint. He was equipped with his assault rifle, and looked to be just as panicked as Mint. "Mint! Get back in! You've gotta see this!" He announced, before looking to the other soldiers. "Anyone of you capable of holding someone down?!"
"I am," Joseph flatly replied. "What do you need me for?" He almost seemed to jump for joy just at that moment. Confused, I got off the machine gun of the APC and hop off, only for the soldier to immediately turn around and start running, rifle in hand. "The hell?" Joseph replied, only for Mint to look to his left and grimace. Then he turned his head right to face both Joseph and Payne.
"You two. I need you to follow me into the medical tent. Right now," He growled out. "We need your help in securing Private Anderson."
"Uh... What's actually going on, Mint? You mentioned that Anderson-"
"Anderson's been hospitalized. He's been reacting violently to attempts at conversation, and when we went to check up on him just an hour ago he suddenly collapsed on the ground and started writhing," He rapidly explained, before breathing in and continuing on where he left off, still clutching his knees. "We believe that he may have something with him. I need the both of you to go help restrain him until we can find something to restrain him with."
"Chrst alive," Payne muttered. "Alright. I'll go with."
"Same here." Joseph responded.
Mint nodded frantically, then rushed to the right, trying to get to the tent where the rest of the guys had apparently kept Private Anderson. Which was incredibly baffling. What the hell did he even have that caused him to do that? Joseph's mind was wracked with questions as he and Payne made their way to the tent kind of slowly, still suspicious about what was going on.
The moment they approached the tent however, their tunes soon changed. Very rapidly, actually.
"Hold him down! Hold him down!"
"Goddamnit, I'm trying-! Shit! Someone get his right hand! It's almost got Carl's pocket-"
"Hold on! Help's on the way! You, Peter! Call the General over now!"
"I've got his leg zipped up! Get the rest of him!"
The sounds of chaos and metal thrashing alongside loud growling and violent screaming made Joseph recoil before his legs kicked into overdrive mode and he immediately rushed into the hospital tent. Only to be greeted with Private Anderson, some guy from another unit if he remembered correctly - an acquaintance of Payne - thrashing violently as eight national guardsmen seemed to hold him down, his limbs flailing vainly as he kicked and screamed.
Wasting no time, Joseph rushed in and immediately sought to restrain Anderson on a limb where he was the most mobile- His left hand. He immediately ran around the other guardsmen and immediately grabbed the left hand, stopping it from thrashing and doing anything. The moment Payne burst through the door, Joseph immediately looked at him.
"Hold down his foot!"
It seemed like Payne wanted to react, but one look at the situation made him realize that he was dealing with something out of his paycheck. So immediately, he began holding down both of Anderson's feet.
"Keep them held down!" He said as he looked at Anderson, who seemingly just kept thrashing around and around. But what got Joseph's attention wasn't him thrashing in spite of being held down by ten people.
No, rather, it was his aversion to light when the other Guardsmen seemed to shine their flashlights on him-
"Someone get a doctor ASAP!" One of the guardsmen shouted. "I don't think I can handle this!"
Christ.
This was going to be an interesting deployment.
Bruno Mauve - Camp Vengeance, Vale - April 17, 80 AGW (Remnant Years) - 5:07 PD (Remnant Time)
"What do you mean the supply base got annihilated?"
"Yeah, says here plain and clean on the record- The supply base was annihilated by a Grimm attack. Apparently someone couldn't control their emotions and managed to unleash Grimm on a supposedly defensible base. "
Bruno simply stared back at his compatriot in confusion, bafflement even. "And what about the attack force on Mayflower? Surely, they could've been more successful at dealing with these humans due to numbers... Right?" He tried to sound positive, but his compatriot simply shook his head and put his hand on his face in embarrassment.
He was supposed to be the leader of the smaller sub-cell around this area while Commander Taurus was busy conducting deals with... Somebody. He didn't know who. But here he was, having been told that the White Fang just lost a supply base containing weapons that could have been used in retribution attacks. And they lost it. If Taurus didn't want Mauve's head before, he will now.
"Unfortunately, unless you count total annihilation as a victory... Then I'm afraid they lost." His compatriot, or co-commander, replied. Frustration rang through Mauve's head as he nearly tore his hair off from the exhausting task of dealing with White Fang stupidity.
"Okay. Fine. We lost our attack squad and a supply base. Jeez," Mauve sighed as he pushed his chair back and stood up, clenching his fists and furrowing his brows. "First things first, let's get started. Who the hell are we dealing with, and how the hell did they manage to do two of those things at once? The Atlesian Army, cowards the lot of them are, simply weren't able to do this shit. So who the hell are we dealing with?"
"Men in green apparently," His co-commander muttered as he put photos down on the table, before Mauve simply sat down and began to parse through them. "These photos were taken by a partisan squad. They're not very Atlesian. Or up to date," He motioned to a bunch of soldiers in a photo. All of them seemed to have steel helmets and lacked body armor. Rather than any composite armor or any kinetic dust-certified vests, they just went to war with this... "They look outdated to me."
"Well no shit," Mauve muttered as he continued to look at them. "They look like they're using the AKR-62 rifles. The hell's up with that? Hell- I think their caliber's even lighter than AKR-62. The fuck?"
"So far, all we've gathered is that they are... Fuck me, they're outdated, but they've managed to outsmart us more than Atlas. And to think that they're still using tanks, too."
"Makes you wonder what other things they could have up their sleeve, huh?" Mauve asked. "Well. Any strategy on dealing them as of now?"
"Nothing concrete. Just continuing our operations as they seem to continue," His co-commander muttered. "As if that'll get us anywhere to solving our problems with these assholes."
"I mean, hey," Mauve continued. "You and I, we've got stuff to do. I'll get you some chocolate chocolate chip when we're free, alright?"
"I'll take up on that offer sometime-"
The door to the command center of Camp Vengeance, however, suddenly burst open as the two finished off their conversation. Mauve's head immediately turned to the back in confusion, trying to see who or what was responsible. His answer came back to him in the form of two White Fang fighters dragging something into the command center. Puzzled, Mauve looked up and raised an eyebrow.
"What's this?" Mauve asked. He didn't give them permission to enter his command center at all! So what the hell were they-
"We managed to capture a human after his vehicle was knocked out by one of our anti-Grimm missiles," One of the soldiers responded. It was only then and after Mauve looked at the thing being dragged did he realize that it was a man in green. Shit. They actually managed to get something out of it. "Looks to be fresh."
"Well I'll be," Mauve said as he smiled while looking at the two soldiers. He's always wanted to make a point to humans. And to make a name for himself, well, he'd have to execute one of them. It was time to earn his keep. "Alright. Drag him out to the chamber and get whatever information you can out of him. I want anything that he can spill out- Doesn't matter if you have to break some bones or not," He said as he spat on the human. Presumably unconscious, given that his eyes were closed but his chest seemed to be inhaling and exhaling. "Humans don't feel empathy."
A nod escaped the two soldiers. "Will do, sir." One of them replied, as they continued to drag the soldier. Mauve stepped to the right to allow them to get to the chamber to get information out of him. But his co-commander seemed hesitant. "You sure we want them to paint a target on our backs?"
"I mean. They're humans. They cower the moment we manage to show our superiority over them," He scoffed. "If you say otherwise, you are naive to the cause."
A sigh escaped his co-commander, and a shake of the head was all he received.
"Alright then."
Hail Adam.
Author's Notes:
Rushed. Vignettes. Actively growing more sleepy as I type this so just have fun and have a great day readers. I hope you all enjoy some outside perspectives. Even if the last one and the middle one are kind of short and rushed.
See you all later. Have a great day.
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