Re: The Trondforge Assault: Fortis Imperator Oris: Chpt. 16
Chapter XV
Fortis Imperator Oris (Strong General)
A lone man was digging. Digging in what? Digging in mud… digging into the frozen mud, tainted with the blood of hundreds of soldiers. The lone man, snuffling in the frozen air, threw a body in what seemed to be a hole. His priest cloak provided him some heat, but the coldness of the wind was too intense for the priest to endure anymore. The man spat in the grave with scorn, said a prayer threw some dirty ground to fill up the hole. After some minutes of working, in a supreme effort, the priest succeeded to plant a wooden cross in the dirt. On the cross was written: “Sergeant-medic Plextrio Lopreus. Dead at Christensus: Year …… (the date is unreadable). His comrades will remember him as long as they live.” The priest spat on the grave, spilled everything with his foot and thought: “Soldiers only know how to die… They speak of “saving the world”, but they will destroy it before anyone is being “saved”. Soldiers only know how to fight… they should sing psalms instead and pray for their souls…”
***
The long column of trucks was slowly advancing through the snowy streets. Aemilian, seated in a truck with his lieutenant, Captain Weaser and Felski, was looking through a window. Out, there were some tanks following the heteroclite and disordered column. Some men were going on foot, some were sitting on a tank’s corner, and other high-graded officers were carried as fast as the wind by rapid jeeps. The feet of the footmen splashed in the melting snow and the wheels of the trucks were partly sinking in the mud. Aemilian watched carefully the buildings in his sight and realized that some heavy artillery fighting had taken place lately. Few roofs were still intact and there was an abundant number of columns of smoke. Some sounds of shells crashing down and exploding were the background… a bit like the soundtrack of a movie. A shell whinnied and two trucks brutally exploded, projecting waves of metal pieces everywhere around. Some men fell down, hardly hit and wounded. Nearby soldiers and medics ran to take out everyone that could be safe out of the way. Aemilian shut the window trap… this war had become horrible. He heard screams and moans… and a mine exploding. Death was everywhere… and hunted everyone.
Aemilian shed a tear and tried to hide it with his hand. Paul put his shaking hand on his shoulder and nodded. “You have the right, dude… Everyone has to do it at least one time in his life… and no one’s there to judge you.” Aemilian looked up, and a terrible noise brutally broke the silence that had lasted a few seconds. The soldier to Aemilian’s left had blown his head off with his pistol… committed suicide, in other words. Paul sobbed and opened the gates at the rear. He threw the body out, leaving it in the snow. Everyone wanted to say something, but they were wordless… everyone wanted to look at the blood and at the brain pieces stamped at the dead man’s seat… Everyone stared, breathless and each second was a pain for anyone to be in this truck. The terrible sight of a despaired man who had decided to put an end to his torments had something to prevent the men from sleeping for several nights until they become crazy.
“His nerves broke… So I suggest that you calm yourself and stick together when we’ll be there, if you don’t want to end like him… A soldier that commits such an act… is not a soldier… and if he really is, he has stayed too long in this war-torn city. Before doing it, just tell one person… and if this person lets you do it, make your choice.” said sternly Heinrich. Paul knew really well that the Captain was a veteran… and that he had more experience in this war than anyone else. He knew that Heinrich had understood the minds of men during a war. Despite his one eye still “operational”, his mechanic forearm, his horribly scarred leg, his scarred face and the dry blood on his uniform, he was still alive, still as proud and able to fight as before. Paul had learned that sometimes, a man must step on his pride and follow the example of braver and better soldiers. Paul had become officer by studying theory, while Heinrich had even forgotten the time when he was a standard soldier.
-“Captain…” said Felski, “How can we be as good soldiers as you?”
Heinrich ignored the compliment and answered:
-“I don’t consider myself as a terrific soldiers, boys… I will maybe find death at this very moment! Some people think that war is a game, and these people are nothing more but fools. At any time, even the best soldier can fall, his body crippled with metal. This is not a war where the quality of soldiers are taken into consideration… Paul! I’ve heard that a whole brigade of conscripts was sent to assault a fortified hill! That was nothing more but madness! I can hardly believe that you and what remains of your platoon have survived this far. Most of your commanders are donkeys… donkeys with cigars, officer badges and peaked caps. They have an enormous ego, but they have nothing more. Some officers are excellent commanders, so several of my companions have given their lives for these precious leaders to survive. I was one of them, and I have crawled under hundreds of meters of barbed wires… just to save one man. Today, this man is dead, but he made us win so much battles that the Imperium would have conquered the world if they had given him the opportunity. Men take their leaders as idols… models… but I tell you that true leaders have their own way of doing things. Being the copy of an officer is the worth fate that could happen to a man.
-How do you think we will go through this war in one piece?
-You are either broken physically or you are broken mentally… you don’t have the choice… you never have.”
The truck turned a street corner (or what seemed to be a street corner…) and crossed a bridge. This bridge wasn’t over a river or anything made of water… The bridge was allowing soldiers to cross a deep row of ditches that had been dug by good engineers. The truck slightly reeled as it rolled over the badly damaged bridge. Several points were shaking under the weight of a single truck! The truck went past a platoon of infantry that was slowly walking in the muddy road, their feet going a bit deeper in the mud with each step forward. Snow had been replaced by greyish and melting flakes. Already, the white snow was fading away, being replaced by the usual dust that war inevitably brought with her.
***
Captain Jurgen, a great Artillery Commander, had done an almost miraculous entrance on Christensus’ battlefield, and seriously shook the enemy position, so that a minor but significant offensive was launched by Christensus’ bridge. His peaked cap hiding one of his eyes, his proud stature had given him the admiration of a whole army. Christensus was nothing more but a mountain of bricks and debris, with some bones and black flesh trapped inside. He was crossing the bridge, holding himself against the huge cannon of his artillery piece. The vehicles’ tracks were making the bridge shaking, damaged by the last battle that completely annihilated this part of the city. Hidden on the other bank of the river, Sergeant Mercutio had sabotaged so effectively the enemy supplies that the Imperial reinforcements had very little resistance to cross the bridge… The battle rages farther, but Mercutio and his men had their duty to do. Heading to the Imperial headquarters, Mercutio and what remained of his Alpha Marines, guarding the captured Confederate Colonel Hans Braun.
Mercutio and Corporal Brandon were slowly walking in the dark mud, their anger calmed down with the rain droplets falling on his helmet. Droplets stuck to his chin already covered with a thick brown beard, result of the almost inexistent sanitary conditions… A crowd of soldiers was heading to a tunnel when Mercutio asked one of these men what was happening.
“-Oh! It seems that some of our men succeeded to take control of the southern tunnel network… and the sub is still operational! We’re heading there to reach Kastor Line, and we’ll probably arrive there in time to reach General Caffran’s forces!
-Can we follow you?
-Sure, sure, Sergeant! We always need more soldiers to join us ! »
“Maybe that General Caffran will be there… so that I can give him Hans and get rid of this ball and chain… so that we’ll take some rest…” thought Mercutio, making a sign to his men to follow him.
***
In the column of armoured vehicles, Vassili and Tchackels were having small talk, trying to kill some time. Vassili was recovering from his wounds, but Tchackels’ hands always shook, as if a terrible shock had shaken his soul. Yurgen, seated right next to the truck driver, was writing his thoughts on his journal.
“Today, I feel that I have a chance to see the end of this war… I have heard that our General is at Kastor Line, where we are heading to. I don’t know if he has noticed it, but his men are exhausted… and I do think that I’ll kill him before I kill any more Confederates… Why are we here? What are we doing here? Why does the Imperium want men from different homelands, such as Nophelion, my dear homeland that has given so much lives for the Imperium’s cause, to join this army to destroy this city! The city is consuming itself, but there will be men fighting until the last of these buildings is razed. What I fear the most is a… a nuclear war. I’ve discussed about it with Vassili (I must admit that he’s as strong as he’s naïve…), and his answer was: “If there’s a nuke heading to me, I’ll crush its nose with my fist!” … I think that what he meant was that he would die for the Imperium’s cause… He’s a man that doesn’t like to think too much and to ask himself questions… He’s a man of action that indeed excels at fighting with his beloved banner… I almost can’t believe that he has this banner since the battle at Jiksel Hill… the first time I’ve realized that he was a worthy soldier. He has more courage than anyone here…
I think that there will be a major offensive at Kastor Line, and that so many will die that this will be the Line of Blood. I’ve had a dream, before I joined the ranks… Before I was a soldier, I was a teacher… and I know History pretty well… such as the History of Nophelion, my homeworld. I understand politics really well, and I know that there’s something wrong in this battle. My cousin Tchackels, who’s almost a brother to me, seems more troubled than anyone… He has always been more stressed, more impulsive and… doubtful towards himself. He seems to wonder about what happened to the rest of our friends… Are they dead? I just hope that they will come back to us in one piece. Also, I hope that this engineer… Tom, if I remember well, is still alive. I’ve talked with him at Christensus and he’s a nice guy to talk with… I hope that he’ll survive, and that a nuclear war will not destroy us all… I do believe in Liberty, but if no one’s remaining to live through this liberty, it gives nothing to die for it… General Caffran will not die for us, but we must die for him, and the Imperium, and Nophelion too. There are too much people dying for too much causes, here.”
***
Halus, the Marauders and Major Rookes had gone back to a Military Spaceport, but a new one had been built near the river that separated Upper Trondforge and Lower Trondforge. Its name is “Rexdrakka 53”. Halus had been obligated to go there because he was almost running out of fuel and energy. Shenk, Halus and Lil’ Bam were playing cards and smoking cigars, like they always did when they weren’t on a mission.
“-I’m glad I’ve been transferred here! At least, we’ve got enough stuff for pretty much everyone here!” joyfully said Lil’ Bam, his eyes hidden under his greasy cap.
“-Yeah, yeah… but you’re damn close to the Confederate base, you lucky bastar---
-Sure, Shenk… Hey, by the way, you’ve done a marvellous job with me at Christensus, buddy!” said Halus without the smallest bit of contempt in his voice.”
What they didn’t know, however… Several squadrons of Confederate fighters and bombers were making a surprise-attack on the whole Imperial Line. One of Rexdrakka 53’s watcher, looking at the sky on his watch tower, was brutally awaken by a low humming. He looked around him and glared at the clouds. He looked at the river, and saw nothing. He looked back at the clouds, looked a little bit lower, at the horizon line. He took his binoculars, took a look and dropped them, the loud crash of the lenses breaking the silence in the Spaceport. The horizon seemed to darken, and indeed, hundreds of black spots were heading towards the Spaceport… The watcher rang the alarm and spoke through a microphone:
“ALL PILOTS, SCRAMBLE! TAKE OFF A-S-A-P! MAXIMUM ALARM! SCRAMBLE! SCRAMBLE!”
[And then, the mighty winged angels came from the sky to annihilate the invaders… but these angels were pagans and made of metal.]
Chapter XVI
Rexdrakka 53’s control tower was in flames. The sky was proliferating with Confederate fighters, pouring out hundreds of bombs everywhere. The spaceport below was exploding everywhere, as savagely as a volcano bursting.
Halus and Shenk were running through the hangar alleys, trying to find their crafts. Halus was heavily breathing, his body covered with soot and dust. While, Shenk had a large black spot on his back, probably caused by a overheated explosion. He was looking right and left, dashing at some uncertain paths between the toasted skeletons of what seemed to be left of the Imperium’s navy. Hundreds of electric wires were hanging from the roof, sometimes reaching the floor and electrocuting an unlucky person.
“-Faster, Hal’! You’re stayin’ behind!” yelled Shenk.
“-I’m running as fast as I can, man! Shut your trap and keep going!” answered Halus.
Finally, the two friends saw that an enemy bomber had crashed into the hangar and had destroyed half-a-dozen bombers, including the BGV. Shenk made a quick sign, his hand pointing at a nearby door. The two friends stabbed the debris that blocked their path and they heard a low whinny. They laid down, covering their head with their blistered hands. A deafening sound was followed by a tsunami of cutting and twisted by the infernal heat metal pieces. Halus cursed, holding his arm with his left one. Shenk took him by the coat and they succeeded to get up. Shenk crashed down the gate with his bare fist, as the hinges were “melting”. The sun’s rays reached Halus’ face, bringing life to his despaired eyes. Shenk’s blue and sad eyes were evacuating some tears of rage in a strand of hate dripping from his face. Both pilots’s boots hammered down the cracked asphalt, reinforced concrete, and iron airfield until they reached a hangar that seemed less damaged… which means that its low roof, the miraculously few columns of smoke coming from the few holes in the roof’s structure, and the anti-air batteries firing around it showed that this hangar could still have “operational” crafts. The anti-air batteries fired furiously at the sky, aiming at pretty much anywhere… The sky didn’t seem large enough to contain all the strafing crafts. At least, this hangar seemed to be heavily defended. After three minutes of running, the two pilots arrived, exhausted. The second after they sought refuge under the hangar’s roof, a shell directly hit an anti-air cannon, creating a tornado of fire and metal.
Inside, dozens of crafts were being hastily fuelled and packed up with power packs. Some pilots jumped into the cockpits, lighting up the engines. Shenk and Halus tried to find an Armoured Combat Bomber, but none of them seemed to be operational or fuelled up. Finally, Shenk pointed at a small craft, still being fuelled with a big tube.
“-A Lightning? Are you mad? I don’t know how to use these crafts!
-At the training camp, I was the best with this craft! It’s fast, swift and sooo fun to control!
-I won’t jump in this, Shenk! Don’t even think about it!
-I’ll get into the cockpit, Hal’! Just get to the turret at the back!”
Halus nodded and shook his head, trying to say “no” and “yes” at the same time. He had always hated small crafts. For him, these Lightnings 62 were fragile crafts that could take no hit and had practically no decent firepower. But, Shenk knew that the Lightning, with the cannons on its wings, the heavy machine-gun on the nose, the turret at the back, and the incredible speed of the craft made of it the perfect fighter for a battle against other fighters. Halus had this bad habit of thinking that the Bomber was strong and powerful, but the Lightning was swift and fast, and still had a decent firepower. Shenk climbed the little ladder and jumped into the cockpit. Halus climbed another little ladder and jumped into the rear turret. He tapped his fingers against the heavy machine-gun’s trigger and waited for the protective window to close. Shenk sat down on his seat and laughed.
“-Trust me, Hal’! I’m as afraid as you that this thing isn’t even loaded!”
Shenk tied his security belt and snapped the “POWER” button. Seeing the engines whistling and activating themselves, the engineers took off the fuel tube, closed the trap and ran to fuel another craft. Shenk pushed some buttons simultaneously, and his cockpit window closed. The engines were now making a low humming, sign that they were operational. Shenk moved the crank to the “Taking off” position. The wings’ flaps slowly placed themselves in such a way that the craft would remain the less time possible on the ground before it elevated itself in the air. Shenk looked at the fuel panel: 45%… Still, they could last at least five hours. It was enough. The pilot looked left and right, looking at the nearby Lightnings being propelled out of the hangar. Suddenly, a huge explosion shook him up. He turned up his radio and asked what was going on. A voice answered: “It seems that two crafts have crashed on each other… The alley is partially blocked!”
Although, Shenk didn’t mind. He pushed the throttle to a reasonable taking off speed and released the breaks after the nose levelled up a bit. The engines fiercely roared and the Lightning charged out of the hangar. Halus barely had the time to see some fighters exploding inside the hangar and he saw Major Rookes’ face through a cockpit window. Though, this cockpit belonged to a craft which gear’s had broken, leading the nose flat to the ground. Halus was terrified that his beloved commander had maybe died in the crash! Shenk’s Lightning charged into the alley. Shenk brutally pulled the control stick right, avoiding with an inch the flames of the burning shells. Shenk pushed even more the throttle to 95%. Hundreds of tracer bullets whistled around him and some hit the plating. The craft violently shook, and it rose up in the sky. Shenk cheered and turned right, sending a volley of tracer bullets that tore apart a vessel’s wing. The structure rotated on itself until it exploded somewhere under the chaos. Shenk pushed the throttle to maximum combat speed, looked at the engines on the wings roaring with its mighty power.
Indeed, Shenk was an Ace with his Lightning.
***
While, Mercutio and dozens of soldiers were trying to blow up the subway’s door. A huge iron gate seemed to be blocked, and Mercutio had tried several types of explosives, but none had been able to breach the gate.
“-I guess that these Confeds’ have blocked it… What do we do, Sarge?” asked Brandon.
“-Aww… I thought that even these Proto Nichs could do the trick…” Mercutio answered. Suddenly, Hans made a quick sign that he had something to say.
“-How about… Lemme think… And if? Follow me, guys.”
With contempt, Brandon followed the captured colonel to a nearby supply truck. He looked at the tools hastily and found what he wanted. With a sign of relief, he stole Brandon’s backpack and took a little box that had been used to open a door during Hans’ capture’s mission. The huge door had a control panel on it, which had been intentionally sabotaged by the Confederates. Hans took the little box and took another strange thing that looked like a miniature computer used to hack doors like this one. Strangely, Hans didn’t use the computer to try to open the door.
“-Why don’t you use the computer?” asked Mercutio.
“-In our army we use pretty much anything we have… so we can do anything with almost nothing. Anyone got a plasma weapon?” asked Hans.
A soldier gave him a plasma pistol and Hans plugged the box into the control panel and plugged the mini-computer on the little box. Hans typed something on the miniature keyboard, pressed some buttons on the box and told the men to stay back. Hans fired ten times on the computer with high-powered electrical discharges. The whole electrical circuit burst in flames and purple flashes blinded the men. The door made a loud sound, as if something had exploded inside. Hans smiled, happy that the overheating of the electrical circuit had neutralized the door’s systems. Mercutio nodded and the men made the door glide to the left with their bare hands and arms. The men cheered and slapped the “prisoner” in the back. They seemed not to care about the fact that he was an enemy; they even respected him more than their own officers. Indeed, Mercutio began to realize just a little part of why he had been asked to capture Hans: he was a true leader. The men cheered and ran into the subway, making the piles of scrap that blocked their way explode with grenades. Finally, they reached the subway, and they saw with their astonished eyes that there was no train there… and now, they needed to find a one… probably they could find one in the next train station…
“-These Confeds’ took the train with them after they sabotaged this station, so we’ll have a short way to walk to the other train station… Ready yourselves and stay vigilant… We’ll probably have to fight to gain control over the next train… if it’s still there.” said a lieutenant.
***
On the road to Kastor Line, Lieutenant Tarren had let some wounded get into his truck, so he had to walk on foot… for now. They had met their friends because their truck had rolled near a mine… much too near… The truck hadn’t exploded, but it was now overturn on the right side. The friends had been really joyful to meet again. They had formed a brand new platoon with some of the survivors of Christensus and some soldiers separated from their regiment or soldiers which’s regiment had been annihilated. On the muddy and dirty road, Lieutenant Tarren was discussing with his newly formed platoon.
“-We are 59 men… we have a banner, and courage… skills, and valour! Has anyone an idea about a name for our regiment? We will find men who will want to fight with us as free men instead of narrow-minded officers…
-Black Vultures?
-I hate these names… Vassili! It was the worst joke I’ve ever heard… We’re not carrion eaters! We kill!
-And if we were the Tortoris Fraternitas?
-The Tormentors’ Fraternity? Excellent idea, Aemilian.”
With the fading sun walked the newly born Tortoris Fraternitas, marching to a war beyond their understanding, but within their reach to turn the tide of the war.
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Re: The Trondforge Assault: Fortis Imperator Oris: Chpt. 16
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Originally Posted by Greek Phalanx
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