Ablaze Ch.4: Battle of Senchen (1)
I should upload consistantly. Anyways...
Contrael is at war, and the other side of the world isn't any better. Now to Corysia where, on June 11th, Parosana launched a suprised attack on the country.
The Northern Theatre will not be focused on, but I might type up a chapter that takes place there. For now, the port city of Senchen is the focus.
As usual: comments, critique, ratings, and anything else are all appreciated!
PS: is there preference of longer or shorter submissions?
June 12, Y874 - Corysia - Northern Front - Morning
Only the monstrous roar of noisy diesel engines prevails. Most of Corysia's active ground forces are already deployed at the border with Parosana's claims in Corysia, but the rest have to be redeployed. Several divisions were ordered to move in the wake of the undeclared war. The majority of the Corysian Army is made up of reserves, so they first need to be reassembled. Meanwhile, 2/159th Infantry of the 54th Infantry Division has been on the move for more than a day already. Now they are at last nearing the front, coming ever closer to their deaths. The trucks are travelling through somewhat mountainous terrain covered with vegetation.
Exhaust constantly emitted from the massive column of trucks constantly pesters Terry. He can't fall asleep with all the fumes, or maybe that's because he just woke up a few minutes ago. The silver fox has pretty much nothing to do. Sun is mostly silent, occasionally chatting with Reaf, a wolf in the same team as Terry, and Darrell is sleeping. As for Karbovic, with his characteristic glare plastered to the wolf's face as he stared straight ahead, it's not as if Terry will be chatting with him in the near future, if ever at all. While the fox glances at Karbovic, the wolf glares his cut-through-composite-tank-armor signature glare at the fox in return. Terry quickly turns his muzzle away, staring at the floor in shame.
Terry spends pretty much hours staring at nothing, trying to pass the time. As hard as he tries, he can't prevent the memories of civilian life from returning. He misses Escova, he misses his family, everything. Terry wasn't given the opportunity to see his family when he was pulled into the 2/159th Infantry, 54th Infantry Division. The silver fox sent some letters and received a few, but it's nothing like seeing someone face to face. He mainly regretted being involuntarily enlisted, but as much as he hated it, he can't change things like that.
"Incoming, get down!" a soldier in the trucks shouts
A few cannon rounds pepper the trucks, and a Parosanan jet zips past. It hugs the ground, flying at high speed, and passes by quickly. Before anyone has even taken cover, the aircraft has flown away. Everyone is awake now, and the trucks halt. Fortunately, very little damage is done. Only four or five fellow soldiers are wounded, and all they have are minor shrapnel wounds.
"No bombs?" Terry asks, puzzled.
"You want fucking bombs?" Karbovic growls, rudely shoving a paw into the fox's back. The large wolf spits into the small crater in the road made by cannon round.
"Probably a deep-strike mission, saving the bombs for later." Darrell says.
Parosana has an upper paw in the air over large portions of the front. The Corysian National Air Force took a beating in the first few hours of the war. Parosana also used its superior navy to establish a blockade on Corysia. Already, the situation is bleak.
The soldiers get back on the trucks, and continue on. The front is closer than they think it is.
June 29, Y874 - Corysia - Senchen HQ - Morning
Northern Corysia is being ripped up, but what is the 7th Armored Division doing? Sitting on its tail in Senchen doing nothing! This is probably to make up for the honor of being put in charge of the division, Spaer reasoned. Whatever the cause, Spaer had no say in the decision. He did, however, have the honor of operating a small regiment-sized armor detachment from 16th "Anvil" Tank Brigade active on the Northern Front. In fact, he was just there a few days ago. The fox quickly walks down one of the many halls in the Senchen HQ. In his paw is a cup of instant coffee, the sort of disgusting stuff only fit for military use, especially in the National Corysian Armed Forces. Activity in the HQ has increased with the onset of war. Furs hurry through the building to deliver messages, attend meetings, or carry out another task of sorts. Talk typically consisted of news from the front, and sometimes news about Contrael.
"All officers, report to the briefing room immediately! All other personnel are to regroup with their units!" the intercom shouts as Spaer pads through the hallway.
Something must have happened. The only thing he could think of is an inbound fleet or amphibious invasion, and Spaer hopes that isn't the case. Even though he wanted his whole division to be of some use, a successful capture of Senchen would put the entire Northern Front at risk. Not only that, Senchen's capture by Parosanan forces is highly plausible with the lack of troops in the city to defend it, since the vast majority of the armed forces are concentrated at the north. Parosana would also have an open road to their capitol, Vanden if Senchen is lost. Finally, Senchen is a major industrial city with several factories, and is also the home to most of the city's semi-conductor fabs. Considering all of the above, the port city of Senchen is absolutely vital to Corysia's ability to survive the war.
Spaer hurries to the briefing room, and already it is packed full of other officers with an assortment of ranks. The red fox can easily spot furs commanding anything from battalions to army groups. Everyone is trying to find out what the situation is. Rumors are rampant, and Spaer hears everything from a commando infiltration team detected, to a small frigate group sighted offshore, to a multi-carrier taskforce given the objective of taking Senchen. What he is sure of is that Senchen is on the spotlight.
"Attention!" a wolf at the front of the room shouts. An intelligence officer, a rather shady-looking fox, appears from a door to the side, and quickly walks to the front of the room.
"Approximately twenty minutes ago, a fleet belonging to Parosana was spotted about 400 miles offshore. The total number of ships has not been confirmed, but the estimate is around...20 to 25 ships."
"How many carriers?" someone in the crowd asks.
"The total is unconfirmed-"
"About how many are there?" the fur asks again, slightly raising his voice. The fox sighs, and rubs his muzzle. He delays for a moment before finally saying, "One full-sized carrier and two amphibious assault ship have been confirmed...four or five probables identified."
"That's it, Senchen's lost," Spaer whimpers. Many of the officers in the room also respond in the same way. Corysia's entire navy before the outbreak war totaled about 50 ships. During the initial stages of the war, the navy was hit hard and almost wiped out. They weren't even as advanced as Parosana's own ships.
Since the first day, morale has been hopelessly low. Simply looking at the facts tells everything. First of all, Corysia has a deficit of certain essential resources and raw materials required for defense and domestic purposes, namely oil and metals. Second, Corysia does not have the ability to win in a war against Parosana by itself. Parosana's navy far surpasses that of Corysia's, and the air force is also superior. The only hope lies on Corysia's ground forces. But even if the war on the ground is successful, the Parosanan navy can easily establish a blockade, and Corysia will eventually run out of resources.
The trade problem would, at first glance, seem simple. After all, they share borders with Sibivea, rich in all sorts of raw materials and happy to trade. However, Sibivea is ruled by a Utonist government, the only in the world, which has strong ideological differences with autocratic governments, like Corysia's, and would not work well together. With dissent in Corysia fueled by Utonism, the Sibiveans are an even less appealing choice. Meanwhile in the southeast, Corysia shares a bit of their border with Viscinidia, part of the Central Territories, nations that have plenty of oil. But most of the oil is monopolized by multi-billion international corporations left over from the Conquest Era and still foreign-owned even now after the territories have won independence. Of course, materials can be imported from other countries through Viscinidia, but sooner or later Parosanan will cut that route and desperately needed imports will have no way in.
For the military, the only practical method by which Corysia can win the war is from outside help. The Utonintern, or Sibivea since it's the only member of the faction, is definitely not a possibility due to influence on internal dissent. The NSU isn't an option either due to Parosana, Corysia's neighbor and attacker, leaning heavily towards the alliance which it also recently joined. This leaves the AON as the only viable source of help, but the AON isn't particularly willing to send aid. After all, they have their own war to deal with.
"Shut your muzzles!" the wolf at the front of the room shouts. Everyone in the room falls silent.
"The fleet can only be here to capture Senchen," the intelligence officer proceeds. "I am without a doubt that everyone is familiar with Parosana's Northern Claims. Don't let Year 833 happen again, damn it! Don't let Senchen turn into another Kenlen!"
The Northern Claims were large areas of territory lost to the Parosanans during the Last War. A major port in the north called Kenlen, similar to Senchen, was captured by the Parosanans on Year 833. The front collapsed, armed forces fell into disarray, and large pieces of territory were annexed. This time will be worse. For this war, Parosana is looking to annex the entire nation.
The fox sweeps his eyes across the crowd in front of him. In less than a month, a quarter of the furs will be dead. A whole month and that number will rise to half, and in another few months almost everyone will die.
"Notify your troops; Parosana's coming to us, right here. Get them prepared for combat and await further instructions. Any furs in Regional Missile Command are to stay here. Everyone else is dismissed."
The shuffle of a roomful of furs quickly exiting follows, along with mumbling and muffled conversations with voices kept low. Slowly the furs leave, their tails drooping close to the ground. A few trade words and phrases. Furs part of the RMC stay behind, probably organizing a missile strike on the fleet. Spaer hoped so. But before the fox could meet up with his troops, he needs to return to his office briefly. On the way there, any soldier still left in the building scramble to regroup with their unit. Officers hurry meet with their troops.
Spaer reaches his room in a remote corner of the headquarters, and instantly spots a note on his desk. He picks it up and skims it. No, there is some mistake, right? There must be an error in the message! Shocked, he reads it again, this time with more concentration. He didn't read it incorrectly. Spaer is supposed to keep his division at the outskirts of the city, setting up an air defense network there, and preventing the city from being enveloped by a surprise amphibious landing from the flank. That's nothing compared to what followed. He is supposed to dedicate "a heavy combined battalion to support infantry inside the city". What the fuck? How can they not realize that cities are traps for armored fighting vehicles? The fox forces those thoughts out of his mind. He is Fuchs Spaer, commander of the Corysian National Army 7th "Corysian Steel" Armored Division of Armored Corps B, "Hard Corps"! He is a tank leader! He has to prove that he can handle urban tank and mechanized warfare, even if it is suicide. The red fox grabs some items, including his deck of cards, and hurries to meet up with his division.
Furs scramble to get to their seats in the dark RMC, Regional Missile Command, launch room. Several rows of monitors facing back-to-back on long tables display crucial information to the operators. The location of the Parosanan fleet is constantly tracked by ground-based radar systems deep inside Corysia. The general in charge of the show, a rather worried husky who himself has only recently arrived in the room, rubs his paws with unease.
"Thirty seconds 'till launch!" he announces to the staff, quickly inputting data into the battle-net and broadcasting it to anti-ship missile launchers far away from the bunker.
Missiles are something Corysia invested a lot of time and funding into. The anti-ship missile is still somewhat new technology, and quite expensive. Partly for that reason, Corysia did not have many test or drills conducted. Outside the bunker, positioned far outside the city, are several motorized missile launchers awaiting the launch signal.
"Ten seconds!" the general calls.
Nothing could prepare anyone in the RMC department for the real, live firing of their missiles. Everyone is tense, including the husky watching over everything. This missile strike is not only to save Senchen, but to save Corysia and for them to save themselves.
"Five!" the husky started to count down. "Four...three...two...one...launch!"