This is a sort of "prequel" to chapter 1, involving the same POV character from that chapter, only from an earlier time in his career. It's not really all that important to read that chapter to understand this one.
Somewhere in the Tien Giang Forest
Osaka Prefecture, Newsaka
14 February 2545
0045J
PV1 Danilo Marcos, HHC, 1-27th Rifle Regiment, 2-25th Rifle Division
Two Weeks Post-Covenant Invasion
It seemed that no matter the time of day or weather, the forest was always active.
This probably shouldn't have come as a surprise to Private Danilo Marcos – after all, he'd been the one contemplating studying biology in college - abet marine biology - just prior to him being called into service and yet, somehow, it did. In his own defense, despite having been born and raised on Newsaka, he had never actually bothered to go and visit the Tien Giang Forest, despite it being the largest and most dense forest on the continent, if not the colony. But now, here he was.
The pitter patter of rain hitting the leaves kept most of the insects at bay, but for the larger animals that called the jungle home, it seemed to only encourage them. Staring out into the woods, Marcos could hear their grunts and growls and howls and cries as they prowled the night, looking for whatever an animal looked for at this time of day, seemingly unconcerned about the column of UNSC colonial militiamen taking a break nearby. It was peaceful in its own way, and Marcos almost wished he could spend the entire night, just sitting here, observing and listening. But he knew such an ask was impossible. Not with an entire Covenant invasion underway.
He suddenly tensed at the abrupt rumble of explosions in the distance, but just like it had been doing the last few days, the noise faded away just as quickly as it had begun. Marcos let out a small sigh, but none of the tension really left his body. And not for the first time, he couldn't help but wonder what he was doing here.
Officially, Marcos and his battalion were here to drive the Covenant out from this area of the jungle, but despite ostensibly being on their trail for the last three days, the Militiamen had seen neither hide nor hair of the aliens, and no one knew why. And that made everyone nervous. Like everyone else, Marcos had heard about the Airborne landings that had taken place up north behind Covenant lines, which might have explained the reason for the Covenant's withdraw if not for the fact every single veteran assigned to the battalion agreed the Covenant didn't retreat for anything. So then, the obvious question became: where the hell were they? And what were they up to?
As someone who had only graduated from OSUT five days ago, Marcos obviously didn't have any of the answers, but he couldn't stop the sense of dread from pooling at the bottom of his stomach every time he thought about it. Something was about to happen, no doubt. Something bad. But what?
Without warning, Marcos suddenly realized the surrounding jungle had gotten very still, and very quiet. Very slowly, he hefted his rifle as he strained his ears, trying to hear- rustling of leaves! From behind!
Blood immediately rushing in his ears, Marcos whirled around, raising his rifle-
- only to immediately lower it once more as he realized it was only his battalion sergeant, Command Sergeant Major Lóng Dao-wun. Lóng, for his part, didn't seem too fussed about having a rifle pointed in his direction, and instead, merely stood there, and even in the dark, Marcos could see him giving him the side-eye.
"You daydreaming on the job, Trooper?" he gruffly asked.
"Negative, Sergeant Major," Marcos hastily reassured him.
Lóng continued to scrutinize him for a few moments before shrugging. "Good. We're done here. Let's head back to the CP."
"Yes, Sergeant Major."
Shouldering his rifle, Marcos followed Lóng back through the trees to the rear where the battalion command post had been set up. Forcing their way through the undergrowth and walking past a number of exhausted troopers – one thing Marcos was quickly learning about the jungle was that between the thick undergrowth, the humidity, the steep incline, and all the bugs, walking even just a hundred meters in full gear was like trying to run a marathon – Marcos took the opportunity to study the man in front of him. A rifle division like the 25th Rifle Division typically had a total of nine combat rifle battalions assigned to them, and out of all them, Marcos couldn't help but feel like he had lucked out in being assigned to the first of the 27th. Not because of the battalion's storied history, but solely because of the man walking in front of him. Two weeks into the Newsaka Campaign, and Sergeant Major Lóng was already becoming a bit of a legend among the Jungle Warriors of the 25th Division. The "Dragon of Dalian," as he was being informally called, inspired by his surname which was the Mandarin Chinese word for dragon.
As the story went, when the Covenant first made landfall, catching everyone by surprise, Brutes had come charging out from the jungle with murder in their eyes. As a Colonial Militia unit, the 25th had been in garrison at their hometown of Dalian in the process of being called up when the tide wave of aliens had slammed into them, cutting through their ranks like a tsunami. Just when the entire division was on the verge of being overrun, then-Sergeant First Class Lóng had leapt onto a burning Warthog and proceeded to halt the Brute attack wave for nearly two hours, long enough for the ranks to reform. For his efforts, not only was he given a promotion, he was also nominated for the Legion of Honor – which, according to scuttlebutt, was all but a done deal – making Sergeant Major Lóng the first member in the history of the 25th to ever be awarded the UNSC's highest medal for valor.
As someone who had been graduated from OSUT two weeks early in order to backfill the vacancies in the ranks caused by the Covenant, Marcos knew he wasn't ready for frontline combat. So, to be under the direct command of a hero like Lóng… not only did Marcos know he could stand to learn a lot from a man like him, his very presence gave Marcos the optimism he would be able to make it out of this mess mostly intact. And that did wonders for his morale, even as everything else (the heat, the humidity, the bugs, the terrain) were doing their best to drag it down.
The journey back to battalion CP was mostly done in silence, mostly because Marcos noticed Lóng wasn't really one for idle talk, and practically because Marcos never really knew what to say to him without feeling like an idiot. By the time they had reached their destination, the rain had stopped, and the bugs had returned with a vengeance, leaving Marcos sweating like a pig and swatting like a maniac. Lóng, on the other hand, in true heroic fashion, hardly seemed to be affected by either, stoically leading the way to the command post.
Despite its name, the command post wasn't really all that impressive. Back when he was still a civilian, when Marcos thought of a command post, he immediately called to mind large screens, air conditioned room, windows and holograms everywhere. As it turned out, the reality was far different. This command post consisted nothing more than a few thermal tents (to prevent the heat from the computers from being detected) and mosquito netting (to prevent the operators from being eaten alive by bugs.) It was a far cry from the sleek looking buildings Marcos was used to seeing in the movies. While intellectually, Marcos understood the need for the primitivity (the entire CP needed to be able to be broken down and relocated in five minutes or less,) as they entered the battalion commander's tent, he found himself wishing for, if anything, the AC part to have been accurate.
Inside the commander's tent, two soldiers were gathered around a small writing desk. One of them was the battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Chaiyo Ratanapol. The other was a young private by the name of Yu Thwin. Both men looked up, and Marcos gave a small but discreet wave to Thwin. While he wouldn't consider Thwin his friend, per se, both he and Thwin had been in OSUT together (abet, different platoons,) and had been assigned to the battalion at the same time. As a result, they had a tendency to hang out with one another, as two peas in the same pod.
"Sergeant Major," Ratanapol called out in greeting. "Good to see you. One moment please."
Turning back to Thwin, he ordered, "Run this down to the comm guys, Private, and tell them to transmit it directly to Division HQ. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!" Thwin crisply replied as he fired off a sharp salute. As he jogged towards the tent flap, he glanced at Marcos and discreetly rolled his eyes, causing Marcos to hide a smirk.
"A direct relay to Division? Something happened to Brigade, sir?"
Marcos hastily took a step outside and moved to guard the tent entrance as Lóng took a seat by Ratanapol's desk, trying to given them some semblance of privacy even though the tent walls were so thin and porous, he could still hear everything that was being said.
"Not quite," Ratanapol admitted, "but first, your report Sergeant Major."
Lóng sort of grunted before saying, "Perimeter guard is set, sir, while the battalion takes its rest, though we're going to have to sit here longer than expected: our water resupply has been delayed. Engineers are working on improving our main supply routes, but they've blocked off the only direct route to our location. And because in their infinite wisdom, Command decided to make half our logistical personnel into ad hoc infantrymen, it takes twice as long as our quartermasters to get anything done."
Ratanapol tsked. "That's not good, Sergeant Major; I just got an ass-chewing from Brigade about that exact thing."
"What happened?"
"Command's not happy with us," Marcos could hear Ratanapol admit. "XXVII Corps wants us to reach Seven Pines in three days in order to partake in a three way assault on the town with the 222nd Airborne Division coming down from the north, and the 31st Cavalry Division advancing from the east. The Cav and Paras are on schedule; we're not. So, as far as Command's concerned, we're slowing things down."
"Really?" Lóng said, sounding unimpressed. "'We're too slow?' Let me ask you this, Colonel: did any of the generals leading this campaign even bother looking at a map before they created their deadlines?"
"Explain, Sergeant Major."
Marcos heard Lóng climbing to his feet and out of the corner of his eye, he could see him pulling out a map, presumably of the area.
"No shit the 31st and 222nd are moving faster than us," Lóng growling. "Look at the routes those divisions are taking: Cav is moving along the coast because their precious Bisons can't maneuver in the jungle. But that means they get to use the waterfront roads, and receive direct fire support from the Newsaka Navy meaning any strongpoints they can't bypass, they'll just blast out of existence. Meanwhile, the Airborne may have landed in the jungle, but they landed in the Covenant's rear where resistance was light and now they're making their way downhill."
"Then there's us: they literally have us moving through the roughest, steepest, and thickest part of the entire Tien Giang Forest where no one has bothered to make a road since this colony's founding. That alone is bad enough, but then half our guys aren't infantrymen or even gone through jungle warfare school, so they don't have the training or the physicality to keep up; a quarter of the battalion is already this close to becoming heat casualties. Not to mention the growing issues with jungle foot and other TDRs."
"Yes, I'm aware of all of this, Sergeant Major, and so is Command," Ratanapol interjected. "But their argument is that because upwards of seventy percent of the Covenant Army that was arrayed in front of us have been pulled out and deployed to other fronts, we should be the ones moving the fastest. Not the Paras. Not the Cav."
Lóng let out a decisive snort. "Colonel, you know just as well as I do percentage only tells half the story; the quality of troops also play a huge role. And while we might be facing only thirty percent of the original Covenant Army, according to our recon, that force now almost exclusively consists of Brutes. And how does Command expect us to deal with that when even our 120's struggle to punch through the jungle canopy at times?"
There was a scraping noise, and Marcos glanced over his shoulder to see Ratanapol was leaning back in his chair, his hands raised in a placating surrender gesture.
"You're preaching to the converted, Sergeant Major," he said. "I understand our issues, and I've tried to convey that information to Command but ultimately, orders are orders. And right now, Command is ordering Corps, Corps is ordering Division, Division is ordering Brigade, and Brigade is ordering us to pick up the pace. And if its any comfort to you, Sergeant Major, it's not just us who's getting a fire lit under our asses, it's all of 2nd Brigade."
Marcos could hear Lóng opening his mouth to reply, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted when Marcos heard someone cry out, "Colonel!" and he looked around to see Thwin, carrying a radio and rushing back towards the tent. He immediately moved to intercept him, but the tent flap abruptly swung open and Ratanapol stuck his head outside.
"What is it, Private?"
"Emergency call from Charlie Company, sir," Thwin declared sounding out of breath as he handed the radio over.
"Charlie Company is the one manning the perimeter, right?" Ratanapol asked as he took the offered radio. Lóng nodded. "Chindit, this is Jaguar-Actual: report."
Over the radio in a clear and quiet whisper, Marcos heard Chindit say, "Colonel, I've got the whole fucking Covenant Army headed your way, over."
It took a moment for everyone to absorb that message, and the moment it did, Marcos heard Thwin let out a gasp and, looking over, he saw a look of absolute terror that had appeared on Thwin's face. A look that was, no doubt, being mirrored on his own face.
Ratanapol inhaled sharply. "Chindit, Jaguar: if you're in a position to do so, I need you to elaborate. Where are they approaching from? What sort of numbers are we looking at? How close are they?"
"Jaguar, they're- NO! WAIT, PLEASE- AHHHHHHG-…."
Marcos stared in horror as the radio dissolved into static, before even that cut out.
"Chindit, Jaguar: do you copy, over? Come in Chindit. Fuck. Sergeant Major," Ratanapol snapped, "we might be in a spot of trouble. Alert-
ARRROOWWOOOOOOO!
A blood freezing, absolutely terrifying howl abruptly split the air, causing everyone and everything to immediately go silent. Marcos felt the hair on the back of neck start to stand as the first howl was joined by another. And then another. And then another, until the entire jungle was alive with howls.
"What the hell is that!?" Marcos heard Thwin yell, and he glanced at him, only to see Lóng's face had gone absolutely pale.
"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" he started screaming. "TO ARMS! TO ARMS!"
Marcos jumped, and reflexively lifted his rifle as the entire camp erupted into chaos, the men and women of the 25th Division leaping into action. Tents started to get dismantled while tired Militiamen ran for their weapons. All the while, the howling continued to grow in intensity.
"FORM UP! DEFENSIVE POSITIONS! FORM UP!"
Marcos exchanged a terrified look with Thwin, a bit unsure of what to do. All around them, the men and women of the HHC were busy dismantling tents and packing up their computers in anticipation of moving out, or in general, just doing their duties, but aside from being assigned to the headquarters company to provide security, neither he nor Thwin really had much else to do. And that made Marcos nervous and uncertain, especially in light of the howling. And then, the sound of gunfire began echoing through the woods. Gunfire… and screams.
"Perimeter has just been engaged!" Ratanapol declared. "Sergeant Major, finish getting things organized here, I'm going to go check on the line!"
"No, Capt- LIEUTENANT COLONEL, WAIT!"
But it was too late as Ratanapol disappeared into the jungle, and Marcos could see Lóng balling his hands into fist before abruptly turning, only to immediately spot Marcos and Thwin. "What the fuck are you two retards just standing there for!? FIND A HOLE! And get ready to defend yourselves!"
Marcos reflexively leapt into action as he had never heard such coarse language emerge from Lóng's mouth before, and it came with a sickening realization that Lóng was terrified. And that just served to fuel Marcos' own terror even more because if a guy like Lóng was scared…
"Weapons Company, this is Jaguar-7, pull back fifty meters from the MLR and set up a secondary defensive line…"
Finding a fallen tree nearby that looked like it could serve as good cover, Marcos plopped his rifle on top and reached down to pop open all of his magazine and grenade pouches, only to find his hands were shaking. Beside him, he heard Thwin doing the same as he said in a shaky voice, "Dude, I hope the Covies are just fucking with us; I ain't ready for this shit."
All Marcos could do was nod in response as he was too terrified to open his mouth, least he vomited. And then, just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, the jungle went absolutely silent. No more howls. No more gunfire. No more screams.
Marcos fumbled to disable the safety on his rifle as he pointed it downrange, unsure of what was going on. He had thought the howling was bad, but somehow he was finding the silence to be worse because now he had no idea what was going on. Ridiculously, for a moment he thought he had gone deaf out of terror – that was a thing that could happen, right? – but then he heard Lóng whispering into his radio, demanding a sitrep. He didn't hear a response. Beside him, a slight rattling emerged from Thwin as he trembled like a leaf and Marcos knew he wasn't acting much better.
"Eyes and hears open everybody," Lóng hissed, his voice still traveling in the stillness, even though he was whispering. "Watching and listening. I know you guys are scared, but remember: you are Jungle Warriors of the 25th. Whatever emerges from those trees, you will stand your ground."
That sounded great and everything, but Marcos couldn't help but remember he never finished his training and couldn't really be considered a jungle "warrior." He tried to swallow his nerves, but it was like there was a lump in his throat, blocking everything.
"Watching…" Lóng growled and Marcos could hear him prowling back and forth like his call sign. "Waiting…"
Out of the corner of his eye, Marcos could see Thwin making a series of hand mudras, and he couldn't help but wish the Covenant would do something, as the fear and anticipation was killing him. What were they waiting for!?
"Watching…"
"SERGEANT MAJOR- "
BAMBAMBAM!
Suddenly, several things happened simultaneously. Ratanapol abruptly came running out of the woods, yelling for Lóng, directly in front of Marcos. Startled, Marcos just barely managed to avoid pulling the trigger but it didn't matter as three gun shots still rang out and Ratanapol immediately pitched face forward, like a puppet whose strings had been cut and Marcos whirled around, only to see Thwin, holding a smoke rifle, frozen with shock and growing horror.
"What are you doing!?" he heard himself scream. "Hold your fire!"
At the exact time-
"RAHHHHHH!"
A ground shaking roar filled the air as an entire wall of Covenant Brutes emerged from the trees, screaming bloody murder and foaming at the mouth as they charged straight at the line of puny humans arrayed in front of them.
"FIRE!" Lóng screamed, but there was a moment of hesitation as everyone within earshot struggled to reconcile the two inconsistent orders seemingly given by different commanders -
- and then it was too late to do anything as the wave of Brutes slammed into them with the force of a runaway truck.
"AHHHHHH!"
"MATKHA! MATKHA!"
"- DIE YOU FUCKING APES -"
"- oh fuck, oh fuck – "
" – SHOOT THAT MOTHER- "
"HAIT'U GA K'UTKHO – "
" – get some, get some!"
" – qkhe p'os, Jan ni khobuugha - !"
"MEDIC! MEDIC! I need a - !"
"- FRAG OUT -"
" – EEEEEEEEEYA - !"
" – keep shooting, keep shooting – "
Marcos whirled around, trying to figure out what was going on as the battlefield instantly dissolved into chaos. Beside him, Thwin was frantically reloading, having already expended two full mags which Marcos didn't know how as he couldn't see anything.
"Hold your positions!" Lóng was screaming. "Stand your ground!"
But Marcos couldn't see how because, as far as he could tell, there were no lines anymore; UNSC and Covenant forces were intermingled, locked in a deadly embrace as both sides desperately battled it out to survive. He saw one Militiaman getting stabbed in the chest by a sword welding Brute while his buddy emptied an entire mag into the alien's face. Nearby, a different Brute charged into a trio of Soldiers, knocking all of them to the ground and as he watched, the Brute raised its leg and brutally stomped on one of the guy's head. On the other side of them, he spotted another Militiaman drawing her arm back to throw a grenade but before she could, she took a metal spike straight to the face and toppled over backwards out of sight. Another Soldier was sent flying through the air as a Brute ruthlessly grabbed him by the scuff of the neck and physically hurtled him across the battlefield.
HISS HISS HISS!
Marcos ducked behind the log as Spiker rounds whizzed by overhead. Two of them slammed into his tree trunk, throwing splinters in all directions. Lifting his rifle over his head, Marcos blindly returned fire, or at least, he thought his did, but he had no idea of he actually hit anything. Throwing all caution to the wind, he lifted his head to check, only to nearly lose it as a grenade bounced off his cover.
"GRENADE!" he automatically screamed, and flinched as it exploded.
"Marcos! I need a mag! Give me a mag!" Thwin screamed at him and without thinking, Marcos pulled one out and tossed it to him, but he messed up his throw and instead, threw it straight into a nearby puddle of mud.
"Sorry, sorry!" he stammered as he immediately plunged both hands into the puddle and started rooting around for it. He felt his hands close around an object and he yanked it out, only to find it wasn't the mag –
- it was someone's face. How, when it got there or who it even was, Marcos had no idea but Thwin took one look at it and screamed out, "FUCK! THIS!"
He immediately tossed his rifle to the ground and took off running for the rear.
"No, wait, THWIN!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Marcos saw a dark mass come flying over his shoulder and slam into Thwin's back, knocking him to the ground. It took Marcos a moment to realize it was a Spike grenade. He gasped out loud in horror, and on the ground, he could see Thwin turning towards him, his eyes pleading for him to do something, but before Marcos could even fully process what was going on, the grenade exploded.
"OH MY GOD!" he screamed as he was instantly covered from head to toe in guts. "FUCK!"
"MARCOS!"
Lóng emerged from the fog, dashing right through Thwin's remains without even realizing it. Grabbing Marcos by the shoulder, he started ordering, "Start laying down some covering fire! We need to organize a fighting retreat before we get over- ARGHHHHHH!"
Marcos let out a screech of fear as a metal blade seemed to sprout from Lóng's chest. The blade withdrew, revealing a Brute standing behind him, the tips of the alien's Spiker mounted bayonet stained with blood.
Screaming in pain and anger, Lóng whirled around, yanking out his sidearm as he did, but before he even had a change to point the weapon in the Brute's direction, the Brute grabbed Lóng's hand with its free paw and twisted, and Lóng let out a fresh scream of pain as his entire hand was crushed.
"HÓUZI!" Lóng was screaming. "WŎ HUÌ SHĀLE NǏ, WŎ HUÌ SHĀLE NǏ, WŎ-"
Lóng's tirade was abruptly cut off as the Brute wrapped its other paw around his neck and began to squeeze. And squeeze. And squeeze as Lóng's face grew redder and redder until –
CRACK!
Lóng's head was suddenly turned at an unnatural angle.
"SERGEANT MAJOR!" Marcos cried, lifting his rifle and pulling the trigger as the Brute hurtled Lóng's body to the side and charged straight at Marcos.
Bullets embedded themselves into the Brute's chest, but the monster kept coming until a lucky round caught the alien in the right eye and the beast collapsed, crashing into the ground and coming to a stop right at Marcos feet. Despite this, Marcos continued to hold down on the trigger, emptying his magazine into the Brute's body. Even when his rifle clicked empty, he found himself racking the chambering handle, resetting the firing pin and pulling the trigger, racking the chambering handle and resetting the firing pin, racking the chambering handle and resetting the firing pin… over and over again until he was convinced the Brute was dead.
"Sergeant Major!" he yelled, looking around for Lóng's body, but there was no time as Brutes were everywhere and he couldn't find anyone to give him any orders and –
"Oh god, please, no, don't – "
"- help me, someone help – "
"I need a medic! Medic! I'm – "
" – we need help, please, someone – "
" – not like this, not like this – "
"- mama, mama!"
" – I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry – "
" – being overrun!"
All Marcos could hear was screams and more screams and he couldn't – he couldn't –
he couldn't…
"WE GOT A LIVE ONE HERE!"
Marcos' eyes snapped open, only for him to immediately get blinded by a brilliant white light. Through his tears, he could see blurry figures moving in front of him, and he immediately lashed out, trying to drive them back.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy, EASY! Friendly, FRIENDLY! Private, we're friendlies! Corporal Terrado, 6-35 Rifle! I'm a combat medic! Take it easy!"
Marcos blinked as he tried to process those numbers. 6-35 Rifle… 6th Battalion, 35th Rifle Regiment… that was one of their sister battalions within 2nd Brigade. But they were supposed to be on their left flank…
Marcos spotted two other Soldiers from 6-35 Rifle carrying a corpse between them and he abruptly surged to his feet, catching Terrado by surprise. Ignoring the medic's protest, he staggered after them, trying to figure out where they were bringing the body, only to find they were laying the dead man next to an entire row of corpses. And, oh… Marcos recognized most of those corpses, if not by name, then by face.
Lying on the ground closest to him was the battalion's S-4. Next to him was the NCO in charge of comms. One of the ladies assigned to the infantry scout platoon. A private he remembered knowing from OSUT. The battalion surgeon. HHC's first sergeant. Faces after faces of people Marcos had known, had interacted with just days before, all lying still on the ground. Covered in blood and fatal wounds. Motionless.
And then… he saw them… Lieutenant Colonel Ratanapol, with three bullet holes in his chest. Command Sergeant Major Lóng, his neck at an unnatural angle and a giant hole in his chest. PV1 Thwin, or at least, what remained of him…
All dead.
Everyone dead.
Except him.
The medics let out a cry of alarm as Marcos collapsed to his knees, but he barely noticed. Instead, he tilted his head back and started to weep. Overhead, there was a crack of thunder, and a torrent of water came pouring from the skies.
Washing away the horrors of the night.
General Notes
Battle of LZ Albany: The original concept for this chapter was partially inspired by the real-life Battle of LZ Albany. It was the second half of the 1965 Battle of Ia Drang during the Vietnam War (also sometimes referred to as the "Second Indochina War.") The first half of the battle, the Battle of LZ X-Ray, is actually quite well known as it was depicted on film in Mel Gibson's 2002 We Were Soldiers.
As shown in the film, the first half of the battle involved then-Lieutenant Colonel Hal Moore's 1st Battalion, 7th Cavalry Regiment (1-7 CAV) as they fought against a numerically superior force of North Vietnamese Army soldiers at a helicopter landing zone known as "LZ X-Ray" for almost three days. However, mentioned but not emphasized in the film is that 1-7 CAV actually started receiving reinforcements on the second day of the battle from another US Army battalion, 2-5 CAV. These two battalions in turn were reinforced by a third battalion, 2-7 CAV, who arrived on the third day of the fight to help secure LZ X-Ray.
With LZ X-Ray mostly secured and the fighting seemingly over, all battalions were ordered to withdraw as LZ X-Ray was slated to be destroyed by a B-52 bomber strike. 1-7 CAV was airlifted out on the third day, but to avoid alerting the NVA, 2-5 CAV and 2-7 CAV waited until the next day (day 4) to begin a tactical march to new landing zones where they would be extracted. As they were headed to two different LZs, the two battalions ended up separating, with 2-5 CAV heading northeast and 2-7 CAV heading north-northeast to an LZ designated as "LZ Albany."
Due a lack of intelligence and in general, poor reconnaissance, the US Army wasn't aware a sizeable force of NVA still remained in the area so on November 17 (day 4 of the overall battle) at around 1315, with their lead elements within a hundred and fifty meters of LZ Albany, 2-7 CAV was suddenly ambushed by nearly three battalions of NVA. The Cavalrymen's defense was poor due a number of reasons including: the Troopers were exhausted (they had been awake for over twenty-four hours and had just executed a long march through rough terrain while carrying upwards of 80-110 pounds worth of gear,) the battalion was spread out (the column was stretch over 500 meters due to the terrain which meant artillery and air support couldn't be concentrated like it had been at X-Ray,) and a poorly timed brief by the battalion commander involving most of his company commanders and their RTOs left many Troopers without clear leadership or ways of communicating.
The close quarters ambush lasted over sixteen hours at which point more American reinforcements arrived to assisted the beleaguered Cavalrymen. Over 150 of 2-7 CAV were KIA, while another some 120 soldiers were WIA.
Other Inspiration: The battle scene for this chapter was mildly inspired by the forest ambush scene from the 2010 movie Centurion, starring Michael Fassbender, Dominic West, and Olga Kurylenko.
Other Notes
One of the things I tried to do in this chapter was include some strategic planning and conversation. This is not the first story I've tried to include stuff like that, and for some reason, it never quite seems to work; I still haven't figure out how to make it interesting.