Ablaze Ch.14: Battle of Senchen (11)
Following the ceasefire from July 15th to 19th, the Parosanans begin a renewed offensive. One of their objectives is seizing control of Senchen's industrial district, where facilities of great value are still yet to be relocated out of Senchen.
However, there's more at stake than facilities of monetary and resource values. With half of Senchen already under Parosanan control, the situation is bleak for the Corysians fighting for their homeland. The Battle of Senchen is drawing to a close. This is the beginning of the end.
Cover art symbols are from "MIL-STD-2525C".
Attacking: Parosana Mechanized Brigade Marines
Defending: Corysia Infantry Battalion (2/159th Infantry) Militia Battalion Marine Company Paratrooper Company
Terrain: Urban
Characters:
7th Armored Division: Fuchs Spaer - Fox - CO Scola - Wolf - XO
Infantry Team (Bravo 3-2 Alpha, 2/159th Infantry): Karbovic - Wolf - Section Leader Darrell - Wolf - Medic Reaf - Wolf - Designated Marksfur Sun - Red Fox - Anti-Armor Terry - Silver Fox - Rifle
Edits: 6/1/2013: Changed Parosanan attacking element from battalion to brigade. Changed structure of this introduction and info area at the top.
July 24, Y874 - Corysia - 7th Armored Division HQ - 10AM
"Sir, there's a problem!"
Spaer, who was studying the map of Senchen in front of him, turns around and sees his executive officer run into the room.
"Hey there Scola, what's the matter?" Spaer greets the wolf.
His XO just nods in acknowledgement, still not used to the much younger "kit" being his commanding officer, and especially not his CO even talking him in such a manner.
"The Parosanans are launching an amphibious assault a bit south of Senchen, right over here."
The wolf points his forepaw at a piece of shoreline on the map in front of Spaer. The site is almost at the very bottom of the map. The beach there is relatively flat, making it good terrain for an amphibious landing. Unfortunately for the Parosanan troops, the nearby farmland is also quite flat, and perfect for Spaer's armored vehicles, but exposed to air elements.
"What's the strength?"
"Substantial, there's about a company of PIMs already on the beachhead, and about two battalions waiting for them to secure the area. Armored and mechanized reinforcements are likely. The company on land is pinned there by nearby Delta Company, 3/16th Tank Brigade. Delta is in turn being pounded by offshore guns. Thankfully, aerial attacks are light, mostly occupied by CAS missions in the city."
The red fox looks over the map again. Just what he needed; hardcore, diehard, Parosanan Imperial Marines at his doorstep, probably with armored reinforcements following close behind. Oh right, they also have fire support. The invasion is definitely aimed at eliminating the SORAZ for good, and also to encircle Senchen. After the invasion fleet was attacked by the Wasp anti-ship missiles nearly a month ago, it was understrength and unable to overpower the network of air defense systems. But after it was reinforced, the SORAZ was pushed back by about 25 kilometers, or roughly 15 miles. The airspace over Senchen then came under the control of Parosana, who was free to bomb the city. The Corysian National Air Force, or CNAF, was severely understrength and lacked the ability to retake control the skies. That left the Corysians in the city with no protection in the air. Even artillery can't help, since the Parosanan counter-battery will find the guns and take them out before they can relocate. Every few days the CNAF quickly takes control of the skies, known as the CNAF Window. Artillery and air support then becomes available, and the supporting elements spend a few hours tearing the Paros a new one. But then the CNAF has to leave before they're ripped apart too badly.
Fuchs forces the thoughts out of his mind. That's not his job. Spaer's job is to make sure the SORAZ stays on the map, does its job, and the same goes for his tanks either outside or inside the city. The fox scans the map for the location of his forces, scattered over the SORAZ. He has a few elements of the 16th 'Anvil' Tank Brigade conveniently close to the shore just for amphibious assaults just like this, and also a small part of the 27th 'Dragon' Mechanized Brigade.
"Fuchs, there's something else."
A smile tugs at the edge of Spaer's maw. He makes a mental note that Scola just called him by his first name.
"Yes, what is it?"
"A power plant and semiconductor fab are about to complete their relocation out of Senchen and it's synchronized with the CNAF's air superiority hours. The problem is that the Parosanans have re-launched their assault, and the facilities are in the path of their axis of attack through the Industrial. The attacking force is consisted of IFVs and infantry, and all our armored detachments are busy elsewhere."
Spaer rubs his muzzle with his paw. Power plants are essential for anything to happen and semiconductor fabs are rare and expensive. Almost half of his armored fighting vehicles in the city have already been lost, and he's running out of expendable Type 41 assault guns to send in.
"Ugh... Amazing, and why can't the geniuses at Senchen Army HQ deal with this?"
"They assigned it to you," the wolf shrugs.
Spaer sighs. A bunch of grown furs can't do their jobs and paw it over to the "kit" instead. He scans the map and locates a few of his armored and mechanized companies stationed near the forward edge of the SORAZ, and close to West Senchen.
"What are we dealing with here?"
"Mechanized infantry. Official estimate is a battalion, but for the most part, that's only the assault element of this operation. I think the Paros have a brigade task force dedicated to this, along with marine formations attached."
"A brigade?" Spaer contemplates. "What do we have in the area?"
"The 2/159th Infantry of the 54th Infantry Division, along with an understrength militia battalion and...," his XO says, checking his notepad. "A marine and paratrooper company, residual from the start of the fighting here in Senchen."
A mechanized brigade, and that's all they have to hold their ground. Sure, the attacker needs a numerical superiority, but this is the damn Corysian military! Accomplishable is almost a synonym with impossible, or at the very least, a pyrrhic victory.
"When is the equipment going to be shipped out?"
"Around four to five hours or so, it's hard to say. The problem is that the Paros will reach the facilities in about three at this rate."
Spaer checks his watch: 10:36, so the equipment will probably be out at around 2-4 in the afternoon, but the Parosanans will probably be there at 2PM.
"Then what time is the CNAF Window?"
"The Window will open at around 13:00 to 14:00, and stay open for about an hour. Still, I wouldn't count on our air support stopping the entire Paro offensive."
"Splendid, I'll have to relocate my troops in record time, probably the fastest redeployment in history."
"Well, of course, except for 1/1 Paratroops when they entered Senchen on day 2," Scola says.
"Yeah, if only Type 58s and 44s are airmobile," Fuchs sighs.
It seems like his commanding officer and everyone else in the Tank Army is still uncertain of his ability to lead his troops. They want a show of force? Fine, they will get it! He is Fuchs Spaer, leader of the 7th Armored Division! He will show them his prowess.
"Anyways, I'll need this battalion, 2/27th, to move into Senchen," the red fox says, pointing to an Armored Light Combined Battalion. "They'll hold back the attack along with other friendlies in the area, and make sure that equipment is shipped out. It'll take the 2/27th around maybe... three hours then, more or less by thirty minutes to get there?"
"Around there. There are a lot of things happening at 2PM today."
"Indeed. Designate the group as Task Force Iron. I want to take personal command of the detachment."
Scola, scribbling down Spaer's orders on his notepad, freezes.
"S-Sir, it's a combat environment. I'm sure you know it's a free-fire zone even outside the command bunker, but in Senchen...I mean, are you sure about this?"
"Sure as I ever will be, Scola," Fuchs says calmly.
But inside, his mind boils as he recalls his father's expectations, and how he has been pushed by his father into every damn situation. No, he doesn't want any of this shit! Fuchs could be an R&D engineer working on the next Type 58, or the newest addition to the series of Type 56t or 56w variants. Instead, since his father was a tank leader, he too has to be one. It did in fact open the doors for him even being a divisional commander in the Corysian Tank Army, but damn it, the expectations he needs to meet are impractical!
Fuchs takes a deep breath, and calms himself. This isn't a war game anymore; he's in charge of a division of furs, fighting a very real war. If Spaer is going to give a show of force, he'll need more than just the two companies.
"Also add in a little surprise for the Paro carrier aircraft. I want part of my Air Defense Regiment going in. Also, get my Artillery Regiment prepared for firing, synchronized with the CNAF Window."
July 24, Y874 - Corysia - The Industrial (2/159th Infantry HQ) - 11 AM
"No, no, that won't work. Bravo Company can easily be overrun over there," the battalion commander says.
A group of furs stood around a field map lain out on a table, trying to decide on the optimal placement of the battalion. Only about 10 kilometers north of them, a Parosanan mechanized assault force estimated to be the size of a battalion is heading towards their position with additional forces close behind. They themselves have set up their HQ south of the semi-conductor and power facilities.
"But Bravo Company will prevent Paro flankers, and Alpha 1 can easily provide assistance," C Company's commanding officer reasons.
"Hey, the Paros can call in fighter-bombers and fuck up any plan we make, no matter how many damn hours are spent, eyes glued to this map," the XO says.
"It's true, an FO can call in the carriers to demolish any building they choose," Alpha Company CO sighs.
Parosanan air superiority didn't just hinder movement or pin down their soldiers. It's lethal, and everyone knows that. On the first day of combat in Senchen, Bravo Company's command elements were decimated by an airstrike. A moment later, another fur enters the room.
"Hey, just word came in from the Division HQ, and they say we're getting armored support!" the fur says. All muzzles turn towards him.
"Details?" the battalion commander asks.
"An Armored Light Combined Battalion-Early, so one tank and three mech infantry companies. Plus, they're bringing along with numerous supporting units."
"Hot damn, then we can just take the inner perimeter while they-"
"Wait, how long will it take for them to get here?" the battalion CO asks skeptically.
"They said about three or four hours."
A short silence follows.
"Can we even hold our lines for that long?"
"We can try. After all, the whole point of us even fighting this damn war is to try."
And no one could disagree.
The Industrial - Not far from Echo Line - 11:14 AM
"Well, they might know and they might not," Terry shrugs.
"That's not the fucking point. The point is that they're coming, and they're determined. If they are coming and determined, they will fucking assault to the last fur!" Karbovic snarls at Terry as the large wolf jumps over the remains of a brick and concrete wall.
Terry struggles to carry several belts of chain-linked CUA rounds and three MURLD multipurpose unguided disposable rocket launchers on his back along with his own equipment. But at least it isn't as bad as what Karbovic has done before, Terry thinks to himself. He recalls the time he had to carry an 85mm mortar along with the ammunition on the Northern Front.
The Paros are attacking south through the Industrial District, and hitting the Corysians hard. Bravo Company's 3rd Platoon had been ordered forward to support the soldiers already there, and give their forces valuable time. In another few hours, supporting elements will be available, and armored support will arrive, that is, if they can last that long. The power plant and semiconductor fab are just within arm's reach to the Parosanans, and they have only a few defense lines drawn out before they reach the facilities themselves.
The silver fox's hindpaws and legs are numbed from the exertion, and he stumbles on a loose piece of concrete as he crosses the remains of a building.
But why don't the Parosanans just call in their CAG and lay down bombs on the whole battalion? Why go through the trouble of capturing the facilities' equipment in one piece? The reason is that they are not here simply to capture land, but to make that land theirs. Semi-conductor fabs, pertaining to the highly-valued electronics industry, are treasured. Plus, basic infrastructures such as power plants are important if they want to make use the territory later. The contradiction to that idea is the indiscriminate bombing, and the wide-scale destruction visible everywhere in the city.
Terry manages to keep on his hindpaws the entire time so far, only stumbling a few times over rough terrain. Then he reaches the front lines. How does he know he has arrived there? By hearing this a particular command.
"Get the fuck down!"
Every fur in the area, including all the soldiers of Bravo 3-2, throws themselves to the ground. A carrier-based fighter aircraft flies past quite a distance over them. About a hundred meters to the south west, a massive cloud of dirt, debris, and dust is thrown high up into the air followed closely by a colossal explosion. The shock wave is easily felt throughout Terry's whole body, shaking every strand of fur and every finger on his forepaws.
"Get up, go, go, go!" Karbovic shouts as he quickly rises.
Terry bares his teeth, struggling to rise while weighed down with all the equipment he is carrying with him, until finally he achieves his full height. The infantry section break into a run. Terry drives his boots against the ground again and again, each step draining away considerable energy from him with the added weight of the machine gun ammunition. Some bastard machine gun crew up there should be damned happy when he gets there.
They maneuver past other soldiers, some wounded and others caring for them. Terry bursts through the doorway of a building, warehouse B12. They're close to the Echo Line. Karbovic expertly leads his section through the cavernous insides of the warehouse. It eventually narrows into tight corridors, and the large wolf only pauses for a moment at most before sprinting down the right path at intersections.
Before long, they run through another hallway and finally reach a gaping wound in the building. A bomb had fallen on the structure, completely destroying at least a quarter of it. About a whole section's of Corysian soldiers populate the area, using the unintentionally created exit as a junction for transporting supplies and wounded furs. Being the warehouse that is furthest forward in its column, what lay beyond the opening is an old housing complex, and other crumbling structures that populate the industrial sector. The line of aging eight-story buildings, formerly the home to numerous families, now has the role of shielding the Corysian soldiers from incoming Parosanan gun fire.
"This way, come on!"
Karbovic sprints forward, climbing over mounds of wreckage and finally gaining access to the exterior of the warehouse after passing through the cavernous hole. The firefight outside, previously muffled from the walls of the warehouse, now rings clearly in their ears. Several Corysian machine guns are at work, firing in bursts while assault rifles constantly crackle in the background. Terry almost falls as he tries to climb over the rubble, his body straining itself to push his weight, equipment included, up the piles of uneven concrete pieces. The silver fox stumbles a few times on the loose rubble. Occasionally the dull thuds of an automatic cannon rings through the streets, reminding every fur in the local area of the presence of Parosanan IFVs.
At last, the silver fox swings his hindpaws over the waist-high remains of what used to be the walls of the warehouse. He has made it. Terry reconsiders whether or not carrying the mortar and ammunition back on the Northern Front was actually worse than this, since this time he had to run almost at a sprint all the way to here. Even now there is still distance to cover!
Karbovic leads 3-2 into the housing complex, through its maze of dimly-lit corridors and rooms. While running through one particular hallway, Terry collides with a platoon leader as the wolf hastily descends a set of stairs and into the corridor Bravo 3-2 is passing through.
"Eyes peeled!" the wolf growls at Terry.
A wave of embarrassment mixed with guilt washes over Terry. The silver fox whimpers and lowers his ears submissively. Sensing an upper paw, the paratrooper pushes forward.
"Watch where you're running off to, pathetic bastard, I could fucking tear you apart!" the platoon leader snarls, pushing his Type 55 at Terry's chest for emphasis.
Cowering against the wall in fear, Terry trembles and lowers his ears as far as his helmet's apertures allow them to go. Karbovic sees everything, and has already halted. Intent on leaving Terry to fend for himself, the wolf stands by and spectates as the scene unfolds. But he feels a strange sensation, a burning inside of him. Karbovic feels a sense of possessiveness. In his mind Terry is almost his, his possession, belonging to him. No one has the opportunity of screwing with Terry but him.
"What's the fucking problem here?" Karbovic shouts.
"Foxy here ran into me-"
"You didn't look either; shut the fuck up-"
"Wait, you furs are infantry, aren't you? Fucking use you are."
"And-" Karbovic's muzzle parts as he is responds.
"What's your rank?" the platoon leader shouts first.
Instantaneously, Karbovic's words are halted. To Terry's amazement, and the only time he has ever known until now, Karbovic did not talk back. He remains silent and straightens himself, but before he can respond, the platoon leader speaks again.
"Show that attitude if your fucking rank's appropriate," he snarls, jabbing the rank symbols on Karbovic's uniform.
The paratrooper is a platoon leader, and Karbovic is only a section leader. There is no doubt about who's rank is higher. Karbovic remains silent, only glaring back at the paratrooper. The other wolf remains undaunted.
"Waste of fucking time," the wolf mutters before running off.
Karbovic continues to glare at the platoon leader as he rapidly leaves in the direction they came from. Anger burns through the wolf's eyes. The humidity in the air, recent exertion, and the outburst all form a united front, creating an incredibly uncomfortable layer of heat under his combat uniform, which only adds to his discomfort and further shortens his tolerance.
"Let's go," the large wolf mutters under his breath, holding back his anger with great difficulty.
Terry barely hears him, and his mind is stuck between whether he heard correctly, if he should follow what he thinks he heard, and what had just happened.
"I said fucking go!" Karbovic snarls, violently grabbing the silver fox by his shoulder and inciting a yelp from him.
The section follows the wolf, again guiding them through the halls. Being much smaller than the storage facilities, the section quickly reaches the opposite side of the housing complex. They find Bravo 1 holding the position, with various other infantry units mixed in. The forward parts of the lobby have been demolished, filling what is left with rubble and the remains of the second floor, while providing plenty of cover for the Corysians. Outside is a T-intersection with the perpendicular road aiming directly at them, as if trying to direct the Paro offensive elements toward their current location. Several Corysians use the crumbling walls and plentiful wreckage to take cover against small arms, heavy machine gun, and automatic cannon rounds. Among those in the demolished lobby is a machine gun team, operating their Type 52 6.5mm GPMG while being protected by a mass of bricks, concrete, and rebar.
"There, right there!" Karbovic shouts pointing outside towards the machine gun. "Ammo goes to them! Alpha and Bravo Team on the first floor, Charlie upstairs!"
Even as the wolf shouts out orders, Terry jumps through the opening in the blasted wall, and collapses next to the Corysian Marines' machine gun in the small area of defilade provided by rubble.
"Damn it, about fucking time!" the assistant gunner screams.
The husky almost rips the ammunition belts off of Terry as he frantically pulls them off. The machine gun operator fires the Type 52 in short bursts, letting loose three or four rounds at a time.
"Hey, we got ammo!" the assistant gunner shouts, patting the machine gunner's back.
The fox squeezes the trigger and fires off the last twenty or so bullets in dwindling belt. He swings open the Type 52's top cover, and the assistant shoves in a new belt before slamming the cover shut. At the same time, the other two marines in the machine gun team maintain fire with their bullpup Type 55s. The gunner pulls back the charging handle with a free paw, releases it, and squeezes the trigger. Meanwhile, Terry sprints further inside the structure, where the rest of Bravo 3-2 have taken position and is firing back. Karbovic checks his watch, which says 11:26. Great, the window for fire support will only open after they endure at least another hour and a half of fighting.
The Corysians are holding the line against the assault, but several incoming enemy rounds find their mark. Suffering numerous casualties, the cost of maintaining their hold on the defensive position lingers on the Corysians' minds. The thunder of an IFV's automatic cannon presses home the point.
"Armor! IFV sixty meters, there!" a soldier shouts, pointing down the right side of the street.
Terry turns his muzzle in that direction, and sees a Parosanan tracked infantry fighting vehicle. The Manta-80, with its signature sloped hull for amphibious operations, appear from around the edge of a building. One perk of urban warfare is that armored fighting vehicles can't last long with all the angles from which a rocket can fly from. Nevertheless, it's here anyways. The turret rotates, pointing almost directly at Bravo 3-2, and fires several rounds which impact a neighboring section of the building.
"Sun, Terry!" Karbovic shouts.
"I know, damn it!" Sun says, already disengaging the safeties.
Surprised he too will be using a MURLD, Terry slings his Type 49 and pulls out one of the multipurpose disposable anti-tank weapons strapped to his back.
"Backblast, clear the area!" the Sun warns, before running out of the building and into the street.
"Cover him!" Karbovic shouts, before firing a short burst.
Terry quickly runs after the red fox, now that he has prepared his own launcher. The rest of the soldiers shoot at whatever enemy position there is, attempting to keep the enemy down instead of firing back. Using the dust cloud raised by the IFV's cannon rounds as concealment, the two foxes dart from cover to cover until they emerge at the front of the complex. Sun stops behind cover, shoulders the cylindrical weapon, and leans out before letting loose the unguided HEAT rocket. Terry also fires his shortly after. One rocket might take out a Manta-80, but a second would have a high probability of successfully destroying the heavily armored vehicle.
Before they even drop the spent tubes, still emitting smoke, the rockets fly downrange towards the infantry fighting vehicle slightly over sixty meters away. The rocket Sun launched hits the vehicle right between the turret and hull, but Terry's barely hits the edge of the hull. Nevertheless, flame bursts from the vehicle, sending sparks and embers flying several meters from the tracked medium vehicle. The two turn to run back, but in that moment, an incoming round hits Sun in his hindpaw. He manages to take another two steps before collapsing. The silver fox quickly notices, and turns around to help. He pulls up Sun with a free forepaw, and lends a shoulder to support the red fox. Quickly, they make the few meters back to their section. Terry leads Sun behind a wall, where they collapse onto the ground. Karbovic is the first to be there, and quickly removes Sun's boot. The large wolf completely ignores the whimpering silver fox nearby. Darrell, A Team's medic, arrives soon afterwards.
"Damn it," Sun groans, staring at the open wound.
The round had hit near the bottom of his hindpaw, shredding his hindpaw pads and tearing through flesh.
"It's alright, it's not too bad," Darrell assures Sun. The wolf reaches around to his rucksack, and pulls out a field bandage from one of its pouches. "It'll hurt, but you won't die, ok?"
"I screwed up...I fucked it up didn't I?"
"Stop talking shit," Karbovic responds curtly.
Darrell lays the bandage on Sun's hindpaw, and starts wrapping it around the wound.
"I can still fight...really, I can-"
"Shut up. You're going behind lines, and a proper medic will fix this up better than I can, and you'll be back in a day," Karbovic retorts.
Although Darrell is team's medic, he's only on the section level at most. All he essentially does is carry extra field dressings. Meanwhile, Darrell finishes tying the bandage on the fox's hindpaw.
"Just make sure your fucking trigger finger stays in one piece."
Karbovic pats Sun on the shoulder right before Darrell helps the fox stand up.
"And you won't need these anymore," Karbovic says, helping the fox to remove the last two MURLDs on his back.
"Hey, I can at least make it back myself, alright?"
"Fine, whatever," Karbovic sighs.
"Don't get lost, look both ways when crossing the street," Darrell snickers.
"Right," Sun smiles through the pain.
The red fox heads down the hallway they arrived from, Type 49 assault rifle ready, limping as he pads back.
"Great, we're short by one already-"
"Bravo 3-2, this is Bravo Company, over!" Karbovic's radio blurts out, interrupting him.
Damn it, Karbovic thinks to himself. What happened now?
"Bravo 3-2 reporting, over."
"We have a problem. Bravo 2 and other infantry units are pinned and cannot effectively return fire. They're in the same complex, not too far east of you. Get over there and help our guys out, over."
"Roger, what should we expect, over?"
"At least one tracked medium along with dismounted infantry over,"
"Wilco, moving to assist, Bravo 3-2 out," Karbovic responds, before turning off the radio. "Great, we're fucked already."
He switches the radio to their section's frequency.
"All teams converge on the first floor!"
Bravo team quickly arrives, followed by Charlie Team after they descend from the second floor. After everyone is updated on the situation, they move out. To avoid being spotted through the large windows lining the building, Bravo 3-2 is forced to run through the internal corridors, darkened from the lack of electricity, taking an indirect route to their destination. The soldiers are also forced to limit their noise and remain alert, in the event the Paros have already breached the building. In total, it takes about four minutes before the soldiers near Bravo 2's position. The 2nd Platoon was assigned to hold the lobby for the neighboring subsection of the housing complex. All the soldiers can hear the loud but dull thuds of automatic cannon rounds exploding close by, with little returning fire. That's not a good sign. Stopping at a staircase leading up, Karbovic paws over Sun's two disposable rocket launchers to one of the soldiers in Bravo Team. He also takes away the ones Terry has, with noticeably more force, and assigns another fur as the temporary anti-armor specialist.
"Bravo Team is upstairs, and whoever is carrying a MURLD goes with them. Find a vantage point and hit the Mantas as soon as possible. Every other fur in Alpha and Charlie is with me, got it?"
Bravo 3-2 responds in a chorus of quiet confirmations to the wolf. They split up, and Karbovic leads those with him closer to the lobby. Terry follows Karbovic, who is directly in front of him, for a short while before the two teams suddenly they hear the sounds of a firefight distinguishable from the mass of automatic fire outside. They quickly run forward until they come across an intersection.
"Charlie Team, down this hall and flank the lobby! You give the signal!" Karbovic whispers.
Charlie Team's leader nods in reply, and the four soldiers quickly but quietly advance down the hallway. With the lobby already in sight, Karbovic only has to continue another few steps at a crouch before halting at the corner of the wall. Alpha Team stops behind him, kneeling on the tile floor.
A few moments pass with the nearby firearm discharges. A series of dull thuds in quick succession signal the end of the Paro armored elements outside. Then, Charlie Team bursts from their position. The four furs fire a few quick bursts as they advance. Karbovic charges out from cover, followed by more shots. Terry also pops out shortly after, but by now the shooting has stopped. The lobby is strewn with bodies of Corysians and Paros alike, killed in the fighting. Apparently the Paros attempted to assault the position, only to suffer heavy losses. But at the same time, Bravo 2 was decimated, leaving only a few survivors. They were still fending off a few Parosanans as Bravo 3-2 Alpha and Charlie arrived.
"What's your condition?" Karbovic asks to no one in particular.
"What does it look like? That fucking IFV outside sent its whole magazine into here!" a severely wounded Corysian growls.
In total, only eleven soldiers are left in 2nd Platoon. The wounded are patched up and moved behind lines where they can receive better care. Bravo 2 moves behind lines, and helps to transport their wounded. Deciding it would have been his next orders anyways, Karbovic quickly reorganizes the section to defend their section of the structure. Bravo Team stays on the second floor while the other two teams remain on ground level.
Karbovic leans out of cover and fires a quick burst at a Paro across the street. Thoughts keep tugging at the back of his mind. What's the condition of the other units? The plan asks a defense in depth consisted of a series of defense lines from Alpha to Echo. It seems like Echo Line is being breached. When should they fall back to the Delta Line of defense? His question is soon answered.
The housing complex shakes slightly as Karbovic hears a dull explosion on the distance, followed by another as gunfire rages on
"This is battalion command, all units fall back to Delta Line!"
The battalion's radio transmission is soon followed by one from the company.
"Bravo Company, get out of the complex now! Parosanan artillery is shelling all of Echo Line!"
Another round hits the housing complex itself this time, causing several upper floors to collapse in a terrifying crash, thundering as the wreckage falls to the ground from high above.
"Get out now! Fall back!" Karbovic shouts.
Terry, and the rest of Alpha Team, stays briefly to cover their retreat. Terry empties the few rounds left in his weapon's magazine before running after everyone else. The fox ejects the mag, not caring to stow it away in vest, and replaces it with a new one. Another artillery shell explodes in the upper levels of the housing complex, releasing another wave of ear-splitting noise as a few floors collapse in a neighboring section.
"Keep going, this way!" Karbovic shouts.
The Corysians hey quickly reach the other side. A short distance up ahead, at the first line of warehouses, is Delta Line. Several soldiers are running here and there, making their last ammo runs, getting into position, or retreating from the fighting. As Bravo 3-2 runs to the safety of the warehouses, a fur is caught outside of cover by a Manta-80's cannon, shredding apart the soldier. A nearby marine responds in kind by firing a MURLD at the vehicle, the projectile exploding against the frontal armor. The single hit manages to heavily damage the armored fighting vehicle, and kills the driver at the same time. The vehicle is left sitting in the middle of the road, allowing a second marine to launch another unguided rocket at the vehicle, causing a catastrophic explosion from the internal magazine exploding.
The wolf drops the empty tube, and the two marines howl in their success. They unsling their Type 55 assault rifles, and then join their fellow marines behind a sandbag wall. Terry watches the soldiers in amazement as he follows Karbovic to the first warehouse they reach. The Corysian National Marine Division never ceases to amaze Terry.
Sandbags and wreckage have been positioned to provide the Corysians cover from the Paros. The section jumps behind a wall of debris, and immediately opens fire on the enemy soldiers already advancing past Echo Line and towards the warehouses. A column of three IFVs support the assault, and maneuver around the burning wreckage of the IFV destroyed earlier. The three vehicles open fire with their deadly automatic cannons, mounted on the top of the vehicles in enclosed turrets. A wall of sandbags is torn apart, killing half a platoon of Corysian solders. The line appears to already be at risk. But shortly after, the lead vehicle is consumed is a massive fireball, the force being strong enough to rip apart and char the vehicle. Around a kilometer south, a Corysian anti-tank guided missile team, distributed only at the battalion level, watches in satisfaction as they observe their first kill since the whole damned war started. A few seconds later, a second team locks onto another Manta and launches their own guided missile. Sitting still in the middle of the street, the IFV has no chance against the guided missile, which has no difficulty in hitting its target. The second Manta-80 explodes, and the third is also killed in less than twenty seconds. But the Parosanans have more than just IFVs that they can use.
As predicted, expected, and feared, a fixed-wing carrier aircraft roars quite a distance overhead, and releases its bombs from the safety of the skies. Terry can only watch as several enormous masses of dirt and debris erupt into the air, accompanied by the familiar pressure wave and numbing roar of the explosions. It must have landed a distance south of them, and demolished two entire warehouses. Karbovic checks his watch again. 11:58, less than an hour left. We have to make it, damn it! When is that fucking armored support arriving?
Another jet passes by, and drops its payload. Simultaneously, artillery starts bombarding their new line of defense.
"Bravo 3-2, respond, over!"
Karbovic rips out his radio.
"This Bravo 3-2, what is going on now, over?" the wolf shouts, a shell landing only thirty meters away.
"This is Bravo 3; we have a new task so listen closely! FOs were spotted in the buildings opposite of Echo Line. We'll need to go directly east, and regroup outside the warehouses. There will be a platoon of paratroopers who will give us the details and support the attack, over."
"Affirmative, Bravo 3-2 is oscar mike, out!"
The wolf stows his radio.
"Fuck!" he shouts. They've saved Bravo 2 from being completely destroyed, only to be driven out of their Echo Line by artillery. Now they've come here, prepared to fight off the Parosanans, only for Delta line to be hammered and them to be re-tasked. Frustrated, Karbovic feels a strong desire to break another fur's muzzle. Terry would be a good candidate, if only there weren't so many other soldiers around who will witness it.
"Bravo 3-2, on me!"
Karbovic emerges from cover, and sprints through the incoming artillery fire with the rest of Bravo 3-2 following close behind him.
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