Work Text:
Armored revenge
It’s been about six weeks since our commander was taken prisoner by a small group of hostile soldiers. Luckily for them, those soldiers didn't survive the fire fight, but we still lost our commander. Of course, we didn’t know he was the commander at the time, as he kept his personal stuff mostly hidden. The whole platoon was surprised when we found that out.
Of course our morale plummeted from losing a father figure to the platoon and a brilliant leader of the army. The other platoons blamed our “incompetence” for losing an important soldier, and we all feel like they are right. I just hope as his right-hand man and friend that he is ok.
By now, you probably are wondering who I am. I am lieutenant Stephen Walker. And the commander was like a brother towards me so we have grown close over these past 3 years fightin side by side. I first saw the soon-to-be commander when he and another soldier were assigned to quickly deliver important ammunition to our post to take out some arty (artillery) which could pierce our bunkers' hardened concrete.
But me and the whole bunker saw the two courier’s silhouette running towards our bunker with shells poking out of their packs while being fired upon by the enemy guns, and so to help them we fired our 75mm guns towards the machine guns allowing the two soldiers time to get inside. Once inside they quickly gave us the shells for our main 150mm gun on top of the bunker allowing us to blow the enemy arty sky high.
That was the day I gained respect for the commander, he was always the bravest of us striving for team work and surviving whatever our enemy threw at us. He made sure anyone that died was buried to their standards or cremated by what their will said. He made us a laughing stock to a highly skilled fighting force.
Unfortunately, since his kidnapping was blamed by our fellow soldiers we were back to the chopping block for jokes and taunts to be thrown at us. But we’re still a skilled fighting force, so the higher ups didn’t blame us. And since we're being transferred to the southern front, we're going to be allowed armored support in the form of class BC10 tanks and armored cars. And by doing that, we were going to get our armored revenge.
-Line Breako-
The training lasted six months. It was hard but fun throughout the whole training. The only thing that would make it better was if the commander was here helping to teach us. Then it would probably be around three months to train us as we can’t seem to sit down.
We wanted to get out there searching for our commander and friend. And while training with new weapons was fun we thought we were wasting valuable time that the enemy could use to transport and hide our commander. So when we were done with training we were itching to go to the front lines and plow threw the enemy lines on a spearhead to take important ports or airfields from the enemy.
And, like a blessing from the gods themselves, we were allowed to start a winter offensive with winter gear and supplies. We were to hit the Eagle when they were in their nest.
Using some air and naval support we were to push south-east towards Cobalton to take a major air field just outside of the small town of around four-five thousand people.
And since it was heavily defended we were given a mix of heavy and medium tanks, arty, and AT (anti-tank) guns to annihilate any armored vehicles there with sappers ahead of us to scout out the town and airfield for any major threats. Not including the fighters covering our back with infantry to come in and pick up any scraps we left behind.
At the beginning of operation: Iron Revenge, we broke through enemy lines fairly easily and started pushing in a lightning fast half-circle movement to quickly surround the enemy on one side, with the sea to the other. It was simple, yet effective. And the plan worked like a charm.
The enemy we were fighting was unprepared for a frontal assault. The worst part was that they were under supplied for winter. The enemy soldiers were malnourished without proper winter clothing. Through interrogation, we learned they weren’t supplied with much other than a few blankets and hard-tack.
Since we’re not monsters, we took them to a warmer prison with a little better food, and yes, where they were living was just like a prison.
After that small encounter we had broken through enemy lines enough that there wouldn’t be much hard defenses unless they moved quickly. And with how their entire communications array was destroyed or in the process of being destroyed by aircraft. We presumed we would only have to deal with what was at Cobalton and the airfield. And we knew just from vague scout reports that it was fairly even in numbers, and since they had the home advantage, we expected heavy casualties.
And as we rolled up a little way from Cobalton, I realized we were out numbered 2:1. And we had 66 BC10 tanks. We were screwed.