Ablaze Ch.18: Battle of Senchen (15)
Parosana begins a renewed offensive. A mechanized brigade has been tasked with seizing control of Senchen's industrial district, but standing in their way is a mix of war-weary Corysian soldiers. After a month of arduous fighting for their own homes, the Corysians are losing their hold on Senchen. This is the beginning of the end.
Now this particular engagement is approaching its own end. The Corysians are at their last line of defense and Task Force Iron has finally arrived to relieve them. But for Terry, conscripted into a war he never wanted part in, the end will bring no relief.
Cover art symbols are from "MIL-STD-2525C".
Attacking: Parosana Mechanized Brigade Marines Armored
Defending: Corysia Infantry Battalion (2/159th Infantry) Militia Battalion Marine Company Paratrooper Company Mechanized Battalion (2/27th)
Terrain: Urban
Characters:
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
7thArmored Division: Fuchs Spaer - Fox - CO
Edits:
07/16/2013: phosphorus was misspelled as phosphorous, now corrected.
The Industrial - 2/159th Infantry HQ - 1:34 PM
First to reach the 2/159th Infantry's HQ are the Type 44m3 MBTs and Type 56w-IFVs, spearheading the way forward to the city square. Following closely behind are Type 56w-ADS and Type 56w-MCs, air defense system and mortar carriers, respectively. Not far behind the leading elements is also a command and control vehicle. The Type 56w-C2 stops, allowing a red fox to exit the command and control vehicle. Major General Fuchs Spaer, the commanding officer of 7th Armored Division and currently with Task Force Iron in Senchen City, steps out into the humid air. Blinding sunlight is mostly blocked from his helmet, but the brightness still causes him to squint.
Spaer observes as one of his wheeled air defense vehicles roughly 50 meters away. The Type 56w-ADS halts and turns its vicious quad 20mm automatic cannons up into the air. The many dots in the sky above them, Parosanan carrier-based fixed wing aircrafts, scatter as numerous radar systems light up the sky. The fox covers his ears just as the Type 56w he's observing finds its target. The vehicle's gunner tracks a Paro fighter and lights up its four guns. Smoke, fire, and metal is sent streaming from the cannons in a fearsome and deafening roar. The tracer rounds streak into the sky chasing after the targeted aircraft. Many of them miss, but not all. A few of the explosive rounds hit their target and rip apart the Parosanan jet, leaving behind fire and wreckage falling from the sky. Meanwhile, many other self-propelled anti-aircraft guns open fire, drawing attention but also taking down several of the enemy fighters. Joining the anti-aircraft guns are a few Type 56w-SAMs as they roll into the square.
Only a moment later, one of his radio operator steps out of the wheeled command vehicle. The wolf runs up to Spaer, meeting him partway between the tank and command vehicle.
"Sir, 2nd Battalion's CO reports that Bravo Line has been lost," the radio operator says.
"What the status on the objective facilities?" General Spaer asks.
"Both need more time, at least another hour and a half."
"Air support is arriving soon at least?"
"Affirm... but with all due respect, sir, you can't trust them to take care of everything."
"You can't trust them with anything!" the fox growls in response, "The entire damn CNAF can't do anything right if their funding depended on it! But never mind that, they aren't all that's at fault. We didn't ever have a chance competing with the Paro air force."
The young commanding officer sighs. Our poor, incompetent CNAF, trying to fight against the Paro air force. But ignore that, you're priority is your division. The fox thinks of what he could use to stall or possibly repel the Paro's advance. He will send forward his tanks, of course, but he also has divisional artillery at his disposal. Spaer has already sent out the order to for DIVARTY to stand by, and the approaching Corysian air elements will stop any fighter that is scrambled to neutralize his artillery. Offshore Paro naval bombardment, however, will still be a problem.
"I want DIVARTY to prepare for firing, with platoon leaders and up directing the fires."
"Sir, HE rounds?" the wolf asks for confirmation.
General Spaer almost gave the go-ahead, but rethinks that. His tube and rocket artillery has more than just high-explosive rounds at their disposal. At the Northern Front, the Paros have used a particularly horrific substance called white phosphorus. Although use was not widespread, he can still exploit it as a reason to use it himself. After all, there's a large concentration of vulnerable Paro infantry, and WP is also a psychological weapon. The Tank Army is also watching him for a show of force.
"Affirmative, but all batteries with WP available are to fire one WP per two HE rounds."
You're going to have a lot of explaining to do, Spaer tells himself.
The wolf stares in astonishment at Spaer with his muzzle slightly agape before coming to his senses.
"Uh, sir, I'm afraid neither you nor I have the clearance for such a command, sir."
"Look, WP can turn this losing battle around. I'll worry about clearance, but just get the message to DIVARTY."
"Sir, it's phosphorus, using it can have severe repercussions beyond just you or this battle."
Spaer gives up and walks towards the C2 vehicle. He will have to tell DIVARTY himself.
"Get me DIVARTY," the fox says, entering the Type 56w.
One of the radio operators picks up a radio handset and hands it over after contacting the division's artillery regiment.
"This is division CO, who is this, over?" the fox asks.
"CO of DIVARTY, over."
"How many batteries have WP available, over?"
"Wait one... SPART (self-propelled artillery) Battalion has two batteries available, last one does not. MRAS does not have any readily available, but one battery can reload if needed, over."
"I want the SPART batteries with WP to fire one WP per two rounds, over."
"Say again, WP shells, over?"
"Affirmative, just execute the order, over."
A silence hangs on the other end, and inside the C2 vehicle.
"Yes sir, out."
The Industrial - Bravo Line - 1:40 PM
It wasn't long before Terry caught up with Darrell and the two arrived at a large room. It had an open doorway, the doors having been blown off, leading to the open sunlit world outside. Just reaching their exit out is the rest of Alpha Team. Darrell and Terry get there soon after and take positions near the doorway, along with the rest of their team. The hammering of small arms and cannon fire outside reminds them of the battle still being fought. Karbovic then points to the buildings on the opposite side of the street.
"Alpha Line, other side of the next street. We're almost there," he shouts over the gunfire.
Outside, the Corysians hold numerous positions on the opposite side of the street just outside the housing complex. Terry spots the rest of their section, Bravo 3-2 Bravo and Charlie, among them. The Corysians exchange fire with Parosanans at Bravo Line, and keep them at bay. Fortunately, Parosanan air support appears to have grown significantly lighter. Karbovic then pulls out his radio.
"This is Bravo 3-2 Alpha, we are exiting Bravo Line's housing complexes, watch your fire, out," Karbovic says through his radio before stowing it.
Then a Corysian Type 44m3 main battle tank, part of their armored support, rolls down a perpendicular street, comes to a halt, and fires its 125mm main gun at a target out of sight. A wave of relief washes over the furs, now knowing their armored support has arrived. A second MBT follows, but it turns its turret towards the housing complex, in the direction of Bravo 3-2 Alpha, and sends a round dangerously close to the team.
"Darrell is with me, and Reaf with Sun. We'll cross in that order and we'll all cover each other. On my mark, ready?"
The rest of his team nods in response.
"Alright, three, two, one, mark!"
Karbovic and Darrell exit the structure, sprint down the small set of stairs in front of the double doors, and cross the two-lane street as the three other furs of Alpha Team cover them. The Corysian tank fires another round in their direction, hitting an adjacent part of the structure.
"Why the fuck are they still firing at us?" Sun screams.
"Come on, let's just get out of here!" Reaf shouts.
Then Reaf catches a glimpse of movement from the other end of the room. He whips his Type 49 around and quickly fires at the enemy as a few rounds fly their way. Terry, startled by the incoming rounds, falls through the open doorway. The fox panics and sprints for the other side of the street, with Reaf and Sun running after him a moment later. They safely reach the other side and link up with the rest of their section as Karbovic glares disapprovingly at Terry.
Before Bravo 3-2 can leave the area, three Corysian Type 6 fighter-bombers swoop in hugging the ground, dropping several high-drag bombs in their wake. They explode on Bravo Line, close and strong enough for their shockwaves to raise dust and cause Terry to falter in his step. Several more Corysian fighter-bombers fly past at low altitude, prompting 2ndSection to evacuate the area.
Large sections of the housing complex are blown up and thrown into the air in a cloud of dust and debris. Terry's mind is consumed by the last moments he had with Richard, and how he faltered and ran. He recalls how his friend was trapped under rubble, desperately pleading Terry to quickly end his life. But he didn't, instead left his own friend for dead, leaving him for their own Corysian bombs or the Parosanans, whatever came first. But wouldn't it have been barbaric to kill him? Still, you ran away from him while he needed you. How can you be anything but cowardly and pathetic?
Then Terry's thoughts are interrupted by Karbovic, who pulls Terry with him before shoving him through the doorway of a nearby building. The Corysians jostles through the building as several bombs detonate outside. While passing through, the structure shakes from being hit by bomb.
"That's way too close to us!" a soldier screams.
"Just keep moving!" Karbovic shouts.
They continue through the building while more Type 6s bomb the area. Not long after, they emerge at the next street, on the edge of Alpha Line. On the other side are several Corysian soldiers already in defensive positions. In a nearby perpendicular street are a more tanks and infantry fighting vehicles from 7th Armored Division.
"Come on, cross the street!" a soldier shouts to them from Alpha Line.
Although not needing the specific command, Bravo 3-2 uses the opportunity to cross the street to Alpha Line. Terry runs with everyone else into the open as a fighter-bomber screams overhead. The silver fox manages to reach the halfway point of the street before one of the aircraft's bombs lands off target into one of the buildings they were in just recently. The proximity of the blast throws Terry off his hindpaws, causing him to land painfully on his muzzle. It takes a moment for the silver fox to partially regain his strength. In a daze, he finds the ability to rise shakily onto his fore and hindpaws. Darrell, with unsteady hindpaws, runs up to him and shouts something at the silver fox. Terry doesn't hear anything except the incessant ringing in his ears, and in his daze, simply stares at the wolf with his tired, worn out expression. Darrell sighs, and he ends up pulling Terry upright and leading him away to safety.
Then the artillery falls.
The first 155mm shell lands off target, impacting a building at Alpha Line ahead of them and killing friendly forces in the structure. Darrell and Terry's shaky hindpaws falter from the blast. Terry lands with his back on the asphalt. This time the silver fox responds relatively quickly and sits up seconds later. The relatively low three and four-story structures allow the silver fox to see at least the clouds of debris and smoke from the bombardment.
The outgoing rounds of an entire regiment of mixed artillery come down on the few hundred meters between Bravo through Charlie Line. Rocket artillery rains down a mass of destruction with its deadly firepower launched in quick succession, tearing apart the hard-fought territory Terry was in just hours ago. Conventional tube artillery pounds the same area with 155mm high explosive rounds. Debris is thrown a hundred meters into the air, splattering the sky before him with gray and brown
Meanwhile, the sky is filled with activity as Type 4 multirole fighter jets battle with Parosanan carrier aircraft. Through the smoke from artillery, Type 6 fighter-bombers scream less than a hundred meters above rooftops and drop a mix of fuel-air and cluster bombs on Parosanan supporting and reinforcing elements behind lines. Closer to the fighting, they use unguided rockets and high explosive bombs to avoid unnecessary friendly casualties. One particular Type 6 drops it's payload of high-drag bombs on Bravo Line and its housing complexes before rapidly pulling upward and releasing a cascade of flares.
Terry is paralyzed, awestruck by the enormous show of firepower from the combined forces of artillery and air power. The explosives create such a powerful shockwaves that the intense humidity in the air is briefly condensed into clouds. Yet he can't forget the fact that, somewhere in the housing complex, is Richard. If the Paros had not reached him, then the gray fox might still be alive in there. He would still alive, terrified, and whimpering as a concrete tomb is formed around him by the collapsing housing complex.
Yet the incoming WP shells have only just arrived.
Terry watches in silent horror as the first volley reaches the front. The munitions detonate in a brilliant display comparable to a firework show. The white phosphorus shells each explode in the air at over two hundred meters above the fox, releasing a storm of white streaks caused by brilliantly burning but deadly white phosphorus, into the city below. Plumes of white smoke are released by each flake of burning phosphorus, leaving behind thick trails in the sky. The ground too is covered in a cloud of white fiery death wherever they hit. The actual time elapsed is no more than a second for the white phosphorus to reach the ground, inheriting the speed of the artillery shell they originated from. More than five of these shells go off within two seconds of one another over Terry. They ignite the area just beyond the civilian structures in front of the silver fox, all the way through Bravo Line.
Somewhere within those horrible, savage clouds of white fire and death, is Richard. The gray fox Terry spent a decade and a half with, who he's had some of his most memorable times with. Now his friend is somewhere in the inferno, probably screaming as the burning phosphorus sticks to his uniform and fur if he hasn't died already. Darrell, a step or two away from Terry, snaps back to reality. The wolf pulls Terry away as tears soak the fur under the silver fox's eyes.
"Come on!" Darrell urges.
Terry picks up his Type 49 assault rifle off the ground and runs towards Alpha Line as Darrell pulls him forward. The fox squeezes his eyes shut, trying to forget the bombardment and expel the bad thoughts. But the image of the burning white phosphorus clouds which has been burned into his memory, and the constant thunder of exploding heavy ordnance, won't ever let hit forget.