Ablaze Ch.10: Battle of Senchen (7)
Cover art symbols are from "MIL-STD-2525C".
Attacking - Parosana - Infantry + Mechanized Elements Defending - Corysia - Infantry Section + Paratrooper Team Terrain - Urban
Characters: (Bravo 3-2 Alpha, 2/159th Infantry) Karbovic - Wolf - Squad Leader Darrell - Wolf - Medic Reaf - Wolf - Designated Marksfur Sun - Red Fox - Anti-Armor Terry - Silver Fox - Rifleman
July 6, Y874 - Corysia - Senchen - Morning
Getting into Senchen is in no way easy. The CNAF had itself gutted in the last half month protecting the city, forcing it to give up on protecting the airspace. Parosanan air operations have extended farther inland, striking at targets in and even beyond the SORAZ. As a result, the Senchen Outskirts Restricted Air Zone (SORAZ) is in jeopardy. Despite the supposed impenetrability of the 7th Armored Division's air defense shield, it also relies on the CNAF to carry some of the weight. Now it comes crashing down with the division retreating from the coast.
The 54th Infantry Division is the first unit not affiliated with the Para Brigade to enter the city, with the 159th Infantry Brigade, 2nd Battalion, or 2/159th Infantry, spearheading the way. 2nd Battalion's path into the city is much like the paratroopers before them, just with more low-altitude bombing runs, casualties, dust and smoke in the air, and quite a few burning AFVs in the surrounding area. Burnt civilian vehicles also line parts of the road, with furs trying to squeeze past, still trying to escape the combat zone. The entire Senchen Region beyond the frontlines, from inside the city to its outskirts, was designated by the Parosanan navy and naval aviation as a free-fire zone. The multitude of craters scattered through the city outskirts prove that, as did the burning city in the near distance filling the sky with dirty, black smoke. The enormous plume emanating from the massive port city reminds him of the ash cloud made by volcanoes, as he has seen previously on television. Terry watches several burning Type 56t-SPAAGs zip past as the trucks rumble down the highway, accompanied by several rising columns of smoke all across the Senchen outskirts. An uncountable number of tracers from other Type 56t-SPAAGs are shot up into the air, and smoke trails from ground-based SAMs for a web in the sky. The first few weeks of the war were dirty, hard, and unforgiving, but the tales of the fighting in Senchen outclassed the Northern Front. Everyone has heard of the bloody fighting, exceptional brutality, and destruction. Now they themselves are entering the city.
"Quite a sight," a soldier next to Terry comments. That was Reaf, the team's designated marksfur.
"Indeed," Terry mutters in response to the wolf, almost entirely muffled by the roar of SPAAGs. The silver fox's tail trembles in fear, expecting a Parosanan carrier aircraft to scream past at any moment.
The city is burning. A while later, a Parosanan aircraft strikes at the line of trucks. Flying in close to the ground, it drops two bombs on the passing trucks. The soldiers shield themselves the best they can, while nearby civilians run to clear the area. The free-fall bombs land a good distance behind the truck Terry is in. Tracers race after the jet, and eventually catch up to it. The aircraft is nailed and torn apart, but the damage has been done. The explosions shake everyone, civilians on the road and soldiers in the trucks, and throws debris more than a hundred meters into the air. The trucks continue on, regardless of the damage done. After all, none of them want to sit out here on the trucks and highway, a beacon to passing aircraft. There is a war they're all here to fight, whether they want to be here or not, whether they chose to enlist or not.
Having been briefed previously, the companies that make up 2nd Battalion are already aware of their individual destinations, and manage to arrive mostly intact. The company Terry belongs to, B Company is going to one of the two hotspots, where there has been fighting ever since the start of the Battle of Senchen: the Financial District. Grinding to a halt, the trucks stop partway through Vanden Road. The soldiers dismount and regroup at the side of the wide street so the trucks can exit unhindered. They rumble off, on their way to pick up the next group of soldiers.
The damage is easily the first thing Terry saw on the way through the city itself. No building is left untouched, with examples of every degree of destruction. All the windows the fox can see window have been cracked or shattered, walls damaged or gone entirely, and rooms demolished. Some structures have whole floors collapsed, spilling debris onto the road with no one to clean it up, and certainly no public services left functioning.
Bravo Company's objective is Vanden Road, the massive eight-lane street going east to west passing through the important areas in the Financial. The Paros have pushed steadily forward with their offensive using mechanized detachments on Vanden Road to lead their attack. Now the Corysians' hold on the Financial is slipping, and hopefully Bravo Company will reverse that.
The company spreads out, half of the soldiers taking each a side of the street. Jostling past the paratroopers and marines already here, they push forward with the sound of automatic fire crackling in the distance. Reaching an intersection just up ahead, the company stops and takes a knee. The CO pulls out a map and examines it with his XO. Shortly after, he folds it up.
"First Platoon and heavy weapons straight down Vanden and help our boys out!" the CO shouts. "Second, Third, and Fourth on adjacent streets to catch flankers, let's go!"
All rise from their current position and head off for their objectives. As they step into the intersection, the platoons fan out to their separate streets. Terry, part of 3rd Platoon, or Bravo 3, runs forward to keep up with his fellow soldiers. The streets neighboring Vanden aren't wide, being a significantly smaller four-lane street. 1st Section takes the street directly adjacent to Vanden Road, along with the Bravo 3's command element, while 2nd and 3rd proceeds along the next two streets to the north.
Just next to Terry is Darrell, their team's medic, a friendly wolf slightly taller than he is. The wolf is Terry's friend and the closest to him while he's away from home. The section leader at the front of the group, Karbovic, is the opposite. The large wolf, taller than Terry by at least a head, also happens to lead their Section, Bravo Company, 3rd Platoon, 2nd Section, or Bravo 3-2. His disapproval for the section's silver fox is obvious. While they were at the Northern Front, Karbovic placed Terry in charge of carrying a part of an 85mm mortar into action. Terry tries to ignore the abuse of power, but his tolerance is slowly seeping away.
Then all of a sudden, it strikes Terry that he doesn't know what to do. Of course he knows the basics of warfare and firefight dynamics and such, but what exactly does he do? What are the tricks, and how does he stay alive? How does he shoot the enemy without being shot himself? Sure he was stationed at the frontlines in the Northern Front, but his unit was there for a very short period of time, just a week or so out of the half month of war that has already passed. The rest was spent a short way behind lines, and their AO was relatively calm anyways. Firefights were intermittent and short-lived, usually over impractical distances for their conventional assault rifles unequipped with optical sights. The only engagements Terry experienced took place at distances of about six hundred meters or more. In those cases, it was usually an exchange of sniper or machine gun fire. More often he had to face supporting elements, that is, Parosanan air and artillery elements. Even then, their AO was mostly forgotten. Here however, in the middle of a city, typical MOUT engagements should be taking place at less than two hundred meters, usually involving room-to-room fighting. The silver fox's gut knots itself from the thought. How will I ever survive here?
Intermittent gunfire rings out at renewed strength, signaling 2nd Section to slow its pace with the fighting close by. Karbovic signals for teams to take opposite sides of the road, staying away from the vulnerable open center of the street. Alpha Team takes the left half, while Bravo and Charlie take the right. Terry proceeds with A Team down the four-lane street along with the other furs of Bravo 3-2 at a brisk walking pace, their Type 49s raised and safeties off.
The locally manufactured Type 49 assault rifle is based off the widely used M22 from Trunicia, having a similar exterior and interior design. It fires the 6.5mm Corysian Universal Ammunition, CUA, the same round as the newer Type 55. As the name Type 49 suggests, it entered service in Year 849, not too long after the Last War. It is a rather old design, but works nonetheless. Type 49 rifles are relatively reliable and easy to manufacture, leading to it becoming the standard for almost all branches of the Corysian armed forces. Special Ops, the Marines, and Paratroopers are exceptions. They receive the newer, indigenously designed and produced, Type 55.
Karbovic signals for 3-2 to move forward. All the soldiers sprints to, and takes cover behind some sandbags, forming a barrier that stretches across the entire four-lane street. The position is already occupied by a team of Corysian soldiers.
"Are you furs paratroopers?" Karbovic asks.
"Yeah," one of them responds.
"What's the situation?"
"Paros aren't attacking at this moment, but they will soon. They've been coming with wheeled light vehicles, but they probably know better after we knocked out the last one passing through."
"Where's the rest of your platoon?"
"Scattered about, but I know for sure the rest of the squad is already dead. Who do you have with you?"
The team leader pulls his eyes away from his Type 55's iron sights, and looks over Bravo 3-2.
"Infantry section, I've got three teams," Karbovic answers.
"Why don't we merge, and my team will act as your fourth? My radio isn't working, and we aren't ordered to go anywhere soon," the paratrooper suggests.
"Sounds good. Do you have any MURLDs?"
"Ran out."
Rifles resting on the barrier, the other soldiers wait intently, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Near the sides, the sandbags remain in good condition, but closer towards center the wall has been heavily damaged. Because of the wall's condition, Terry, and the other furs near the center of the street, can lie prone and be completely concealed. At the same time, they have the capability of returning fire if they lift up their muzzles and weapons.
Karbovic scans the area around him, forming a plan in his mind. Judging from the sporadic firearm discharges, there isn't a particularly strong offensive by the Paros at this time, just as the paratrooper told him. He can use the breather to position his section, and newly acquired fourth team.
"Bravo and Charlie Team, listen up!" the wolf shouts. "Advance forward twenty meters, and enter the surrounding buildings. Bravo on the left, Charlie on the right. We'll ambush the Paros when they come up this street. Marksfurs and anti-armor, get on the higher levels. Watch out for armor, we'll need to hit them or scatter fast, and pull out if needed, got it?"
"Yes sir!" the furs responds back.
"Aright, let's make it happen. Alpha and Delta Team, we're holding this position. Reaf and-"
Two Parosanan jets streak past at low altitude, releasing a pair of high-drag bombs as the soldiers begin to rise their positions, some crouching and others lying prone. The munitions land just south of 3-2's location, creating a deafening explosion. It throws debris up high into the air, easily visible past the five to seven story residential buildings lining the road. Terry, who just stood up, is shaken by the bombs' shockwave so much that he loses his balance and stumbles a bit.
"That's in the direction of Vanden Road!" Sun shouts.
Before the soldiers can continue, a loose triangle of three more jets flies by.
"Get down, now!" a soldier shouts.
Terry, slightly disoriented with what happened, throws himself down again. A cluster of deafening explosions rolls through the air. The blasts are so loud they cause the fox's ears to ring. The force of the detonations disturbs the fine particles settled on the terrain, creating a thin cloud of dust. Windows that haven't broken yet shatter from the shockwave. Glass from windows that have already broken also clatters onto the street. Terry opens his eyes again, and tries to stand, gradually regaining his full height. He looks up, seeing a new plume of smoke created from the second bombing run, rising over the taller business buildings.
"That... Isn't that where company HQ is? It is, right?" Terry mutters.
"We still have other things to worry about, we're not done yet!" Karbovic growls. "Everyone resume your tasks! Alpha and Delta Team, off the street!"
Reaf and Sun quickly enter the nearby building and ascend to the second level, heavy pawsteps resonating through the now hollow structure. Almost half of the second story's wall has been blown away, allowing the two furs to observe the street from inside. Reaf, Alpha Team's marksman, uses the optical sight attached to his Type 49 rifle to see what lies ahead.
On ground level, A and D Team gather near to the left side of the street while B and C Team advances forward before occupying the buildings directly adjacent to their position. Terry, along with the rest of Alpha and Delta Team, takes cover behind the sandbag wall. Terry is the furthest towards the center, with the section leader, Karbovic, on his left, followed by all the other members of the two teams.
The soldiers wait for whatever the Parosanans will attack with. They keep their rifles trained on the street ahead, spotting for any signs of the enemy. Everyone can hear the large volume of fire being exchanged on Vanden Road, only helping to raise the mutually shared tension and fear. It notifies everyone that the Paros are renewing their attack. How bad it on Vanden? Will they be cut off without knowing?
"All units under Bravo Company," Karbovic's radio suddenly hisses out, spilling a bit of static. The wolf keeps his Type 49 pointed downrange.
"This is 2nd Battalion HQ. Be advised, Paros have air superiority. Bravo Company's command elements have been incapacitated. Those under Bravo are to report directly to Battalion until further notice. Hold your positions at all costs, out."
Terry's gut ties up. Hold their position as long as possible against the incoming enemy? Hang tight with a single section defending the street? The fox isn't fond of death, and would prefer to stay alive.
"Contact, armor and infantry, 200 meters up ahead!" Reaf shouts from upstairs.
Terry strains his eyes to see through the smoke and dust. The silver fox thinks he sees movement, but can't confirm anything else. Beside him, Karbovic switches the radio to 2nd Section's frequency. The Corysian National Army's active divisions are relatively crack compared to the majority of reserve or drafted ones. The 54th Infantry Division is an example of an active division, and for them, radios are issued all the way down to the team leader. From there, commands are supposed to be transferred from the team leader to each individual soldier. Terry can only imagine how his original unit of drafted soldiers is managing in a world of APFSDS anti-armor rounds, anti-tank guided missiles, and C4ISR systems.
"We have AFVs approaching. Anti-armor, hit the vehicles on my signal. Everyone else stay behind cover for now, out."
Karbovic then returns the radio to his vest.
Terry lies uncomfortably on the street, his Type 49 resting on the crumbling sandbags in front. The enemy is still a long distance away. Terry's ears are perked up, facing forward. The silver fox looks intently down the street, just over his assault rifle's iron sights, eyes fixed on what he can now identify as an APC approaching not too far away. The Paros are leading the assault with armored vehicles!
Up above in the buildings, the marksmen and anti-armor specialists are also observing the approaching enemy.
"Mechanized infantry, I estimate a squad or two in strength, with three Manta-six-zero APCs ," Reaf shouts from above. "Range 170."
Advancing at about walking speed, the APC about a hundred seventy meters away seems almost at a standstill. Gradually, the vehicle grows larger and clearer. Soon Terry can identify the enemy vehicle himself as the Manta-60, a Parosanan wheeled medium vehicle manufactured by the Parosanan company 'Manta'. Good, no Manta-80 tracked IFVs, those would tear them apart. The silver fox almost sighs with relief. Nearby are other vague forms, probably dismounted infantry. Terry watches as his impending death strolls up towards him. As time drags on, and more rounds are spent on Vanden Road, the fuzzy edges of the forms become clear. Through the haze, he spots enemy infantry surrounding the Mantas, but he didn't doubt they would be here in the first place. They lead the way a distance ahead of the lead APC, weapons ready for an imminent encounter.
Emerging further from the dust and smoke, Terry can identify the Parosanan assaulting elements. At least two Manta-60s are part of the attack. The infantry are leading the way by about twenty meters, and are positioned at the two sides of the street, north and south, flanking the armored vehicles. The Mantas rumble down the center of the street, their gunners hidden inside the small enclosed 11.4mm machine gun turrets on each of the vehicles. The Corysian soldiers stay hidden behind cover. If they are to successfully ambush the Paros, they need to remain undiscovered at least until they fire. Terry nervously lies on his belly. He tries to keep his finger indexed while it presses hard against the side of his Type 49. Now the APCs are roughly forty meters away. The ground shakes ever so slightly, seemingly in fear of the approaching invaders. It doesn't help Terry to feel any better.
The rumble from the approaching APCs, the distant gunfire, all combine into a single demoralizing symphony, and that's only the sounds. Terry's mind pleads for him to turn and run, but at the same time his body refuses to move in any way. Even if the silver fox does stand up, he would most likely collapse from his legs being unable to support his weight. Fortunately for him, he's lying prone instead of standing upright.
Then it happens.
Each of the three anti-armor specialists from 2nd Section fire a MURLD disposable rocket launcher into the street below. The 81mm shaped charge warheads explode against the APCs, slicing through the relatively thin armor and spraying the surrounding Paros with fragments.
Sixteen Corysian soldiers reveal themselves, each wielding a Type 49 assault rifle, pouring nine hundred rounds per minute of fully-automatic fire into the street, ripping through the air in three directions. The seventeenth member of the section, Terry, is distracted and therefore unprepared. He fails to follow the signal. Everyone else lets loose what they have, emptying about half their magazines at the Paros, and follow up with quick bursts from their rifles. Terry quickly shoulders his rifle and fixes the sights on the closest Paro, just like in training... except with live ammunition and targets. The silver fox even un-indexes his trigger finger, but stops.
"What am I doing?" Terry thinks to himself. He can't remove the thought from his mind that he is holding a firearm, pointing it at another fur, and about to pull the trigger. He is about to kill. "Is this murder? Was I going to murder on another fur? But they are still the enemy, so I should shoot!" Terry refocuses on reality. By now, other furs in his expanded have already emptied their magazines are in the process of reloading. With their vehicle burning, the surviving crew of the lead APC attempts to bail out. The driver's hatch opens, and instantly draws fire on the defenseless Parosanan as he emerges from the vehicle, quickly killing him before he can even attempt to escape.
The Paro soldiers now understand what has happened and start returning fire. "They are shooting back, so I can return fire!" The silver fox thinks, remembering the rules of engagement. With that in mind, the fox confidently lines up his rifle's iron sights on a partially exposed Paro, and presses- but again he stops. "What are you doing? You were going to shoot someone! You were about to end another fur's life!" Terry's mind screams at him.
Here he is, in the middle of a warzone, about to shoot another fur! About a few months prior, and he was the fun-loving, and almost-enthusiastic draftee who imagined the brief, compulsory service thought he'd never see an assault weapon again, or even be affiliated with the military in his entire life. Another half-year before and he was the funny, joyful, and bright-eyed senior high graduate about to enter the draft, who would protect the life of a common insect. And he has a family, still waiting on the small island off Corysia's coast called Escova. But where is he now? He's in the city of Senchen, under assault by Parosanan forces. He's in the middle of a combat zone with death, rubble, dust, and smoke accompanying him everywhere. Now he's about to kill someone! It's not just some feral animal, but a fellow fur!
While Terry is in the middle of his mental conflict, Karbovic is handling the situation differently. The large wolf quickly taps his rifle's trigger, firing a few rounds in quick succession and efficiently killing an exposed Parosanan soldier. He quickly identifies another enemy, a Paro taking cover behind some wreckage, but partially exposed. Karbovic lines up his rifle with the new target. He taps the rifle's trigger twice, but none of the rounds hit the enemy soldier. Having spent the weapon's magazine, Karbovic hides behind the short wall of sandbags in front of him. He presses his trigger finger on the magazine release button on the side of the rifle, ejecting the empty mag, and stows it away in his vest. The wolf then reaches for another with his free forepaw.
Absentmindedly, Karbovic takes a quickly glance to the side and sees Terry, almost shaking in fear and just aiming-aiming!-his weapon instead of using it. Terry is nothing more than a disgrace to his section. Karbovic, who has struggled to maintain a pristine combat record for Bravo 3-2, now has this incompetent joke to deal with. That damned fox is the weak link of the section, the pitfall, the one who fucks things up! Karbovic still remembers the many times on the Northern Front when that fucking useless silver fox had caused some stupid problem, and he had to fix it. Then there were the times the wolf assigned him some simple task, only to have his inefficiency ruin the results. Infuriated, Karbovic slams the new magazine into his rifle. The wolf is starting to get tired of mending loose ends for Terry.
Karbovic reaches a forepaw over to Terry, who is only about two or three feet away, and slaps his forepaw hard against the fox's helmet.
"Get you head together and shoot!" Karbovic growls. Whimpering, Terry cowers in fear, ears folding downwards, but manages to aim his rifle.
Terry briefly contemplates aiming a bit high to create the illusion that he's shooting at the enemy. However, but he quickly reminds himself that he's holding a tool for killing. Besides, he can't do that forever. Sooner or later Karbovic will find out, and then the fox will be skinned alive. With no better choice, Terry holds his breath, aims where a Parosanan soldier is taking cover, and waits for the fur to reappear. A splotch moves in the center of his assault rifle's iron sights, and the fox presses... but he hesitates again, before overriding the pause and mashing down on the trigger. In the crucial moment, he closes his eyes and fails to see the results. The rifle kicks into his shoulder until he releases the trigger a moment later. Finished, he opens his eyes, and sees the effect of his actions. Terry made his first kill. Blood is now on his paws. He is a killer, a murderer. He can never forgive himself. But then he killed an enemy, who was also firing back, so it can be ok, right? He isn't tainted yet, is he? Yes, it must be ok to kill if the enemy is firing back, after all those are the basics of the rules of engagement.
A few rounds impact the sandbags, while others zip over Terry's ears, reminding him that he is in the middle of a firefight. He lowers his muzzle so that he lies prone behind the barrier in front of him. The fox buries his muzzle beneath his left arm, right forepaw one still holding his Type 49's grip. "Why am I forced to do this? Why do I have to be here? Can't I just live a peaceful life back home, in Escova, with my family and friends, and everyone else I used to know?" Terry whimpers quietly, clenching his forepaw on his Type 49's pistol grip. "Now I killed another fur. I'm a murderer. But... maybe another Corysian soldier had shot the Paro... no! How can I deny it, I killed another fur! It had to be me! Perhaps it wasn't on purpose this... my finger had slipped, it was an accidental discharge! Or another soldier really did shoot him before my bullets hit! It can't be my, it just couldn't have been-
"Damn it, what the fuck are you doing? Stop sleeping and shoot back!" Karbovic snarls at Terry, who again trembles in fear and responds by whimpering. The fox's ears lay flat against his helmet, tail pathetically tucked between his legs.
But the large wolf isn't going to accept that kind of response this time. Karbovic grabs Terry by his neck, lifts the silver fox up so his muzzle is above the sandbags, and throws him forward onto them. Fearing what else could follow, Terry complies. He regretfully turns off his decision making and morals. Instead, he runs on autopilot the best he could. The fox returns to a safer and more comfortable position behind the sandbags. He then searches for, and quickly finds a Paro behind cover, aligns the iron sights on his weapon with the target, and briefly squeezes the trigger. He quickly squeezes again, sending another short burst. Round after round is fired from his assault rifle, and soon its magazine is empty. Terry ducks behind the sandbags for protection. He presses the magazine release, and the empty mag slides out of his rifle. He stashes it away in his vest. Retrieving another, Terry inserts the new magazine and pulls back the charging handle. He releases it, and the bolt slides back with a satisfying click. Terry shoulders the weapon, and lifts his muzzle slightly so that he can aim over the sandbags. Terry fires another eight rounds or so before Karbovic retrieves his radio.
"Bravo Team, sweep the area for survivors. Alpha and Charlie else provide covering fire."
Shortly after, Terry spots two furs from Bravo Team at the foot of a building up ahead. The two wolves move forward quickly, and take cover behind one of the structure's supporting columns. The last two in the Team exit the building a few seconds later and take cover a second column. 3-2 Bravo then returns fire with an enemy position outside of Terry's line-of-sight. Feeling reasonably safe, the first pair of soldiers emerges from cover and sprint to the last APC in the line.
"Take cover!" someone shouts
That was all the warning the wolves got, along with the rearmost Manta-60's turret quickly turning to face them. The APC, or at least the gunner, had survived the MURLD from earlier. The 11.4mm machine gun opens fire, spraying rounds at the exposed furs. One of the soldiers is gunned down, but the other wolf reacts fast enough to throw himself to the ground behind what used to be part of a building. The Corysians return fire on the APC, but the small caliber rounds have no effect, nor is the gunner interested in them. Instead, the Paro follows and fires the machine gun at the surviving wolf, slowly destroying his only form of cover.
"Reaf, hit the Manta!" Karbovic shouts.
But no commands are necessary. Reaf, who is still on the second floor of an adjacent building, is already preparing a MURLD. The wolf quickly shoulders the weapon, leans out of the gaping hole in the structure, and lines up the sights with the APC. For a brief moment his mind probes on the question of whether or not this would be considered friendly fire, and if that wolf, who definitely does not desire his death, is going to be killed from the explosion. Reaf forces all such thoughts out of his mind as he fires the weapon, causing the unguided 81mm rocket to shoot out of its fiberglass tube. Downrange on the street below, the rocket hits its target and detonates, finally destroying the APC.
A brief moment of near-silence passes before the surviving two soldiers in Bravo Team feels safe enough to emerge from cover. They advance quickly but carefully to the knocked-out APCs, and perform a quick sweep of the area. At last they tend to their comrade, still lying muzzle-down on the ground. The wolf's arm moves slightly as he attempts to roll himself over. He's quickly aided by his teammates, who help him sit upright. The wolf is mostly unharmed, his wounds being mainly superficial. Slowly the soldier makes it onto his hindpaws, the wolf's fur matted with dust, right ear maimed, and face bleeding from shrapnel.
With no enemy contacts, Karbovic sends the wounded behind lines for treatment. Incredibly, that was the only soldier wounded during the firefight.
But that was just the first round. Heavy automatic fire still emanates from Vanden Road, reminding 3-2 that the Paros are still out there.
"Contact, Manta-60s and infantry, 250 meters west!" Reaf shouts to Karbovic, who pulls out his radio.
"Alright, we're out of time. They're coming with APCs and infantry again. Same plan as before, but I want Bravo on the north side of the street with Charlie. Anti-armor will hit first, on my go. That will be the signal to open fire, and stay concealed until then. Let's get this done."
The soldiers relocate as necessary. Terry stays where he is behind the sandbags. The fox rests his Type 49 assault rifle on the barrier in front of him. His mind has shut off, replaced instead with his military training. Terry isn't going to worry about killing, at least for now. The rest of Alpha and Delta Team, excluding Reaf and Sun in the nearby building, remain behind the sandbag wall. Only moments later, a whiz is heard, almost inaudible over the crackle of distant gunfire. Soon afterwards, the top floor of a multistory shop back the way they came from explodes. Terry looks back, muzzle over his shoulder. Roughly 100 meters east, the upper story of the building is engulfed in a large cloud of dust, but the floor doesn't collapse.
"Artillery?" Terry suggests.
"Most likely mortars," Darrell responds.
"Are they from us?"
"Could be."
Spotting rounds will naturally fall quite a distance off from their intended target, and with all nearby streets occupied with both Corysian and Parosanan soldiers alike, it's hard to tell who that mortar is specifically intended for. A short while later, the distance to the Parosanans drops to 200 meters.
"200 meters out, strength is around two platoons, six Mantas." Reaf announces.
Terry observes the enemy in the distance. All he could see is a group of infantry with some armored personnel carriers, the same composition as the platoon they had faced earlier. It is still too far away for him to even guess the enemy strength with what he sees. Then the second incoming round lands. It hits the south side of the street, about fifty meters in front of Alpha Team.
"That one was pretty close," Terry comments nervously.
Karbovic is back at his original location, prone on the ground beside Terry. The wolf is thinking almost the same thing, and is insulted that the simple-minded at the fox had dared to think of similar subjects. It felt to him almost like a breach of privacy or a direct verbal insult. The large wolf glares Terry, who whimpers and lays down his ears in response.
"These rounds might be intended for us," Karbovic ponders. With only a single section to defend against multiple incoming Paro platoons, enemy fire support will make this almost impossible.
"We definitely can't hold here then," Darrell says, echoing Karbovic's thoughts.
"Exactly as I was thinking."
And a few moments later, their thoughts are answered. Two more rounds fall in quick succession about twenty meters behind A Team, one impacting the roof of a building.
"Shit, get off the road!" Karbovic shouts as he stands up
"We're in for it now, they've found our number," a paratrooper comments as he also rises.
The seven soldiers, Karbovic, Darrell, Terry, and Delta Team, sprint to cover in the buildings on the south side of the street just as another incoming round lands in the street. A second follows, landing about ten or twenty meters west on the street, towards the approaching Parosanans.
"Won't the mortars prevent their own troops from advancing?" Terry asks, panting in the silence after the mortar.
"But the problem doesn't lie there," Karbovic growls. "If their mortars are this accurate, then they must know our location, and they might have an FO with them."
A forward observer is tasked with directing in supporting elements and their munitions. If the Paros have one with them, they can easily call in air support and erase anything they want within a twenty meter radius. If they know exactly which building they are occupying, that FO can contact the offshore fleet to shell or bomb the building to the ground. Terry hasn't seen it happen, but he's sure it's possible, and he's even heard of a few instances where it has happened. With that thought in mind, he pulls out his radio as another mortar explodes outside.
"Bravo and Charlie Team, we're pulling out. Exit building and retreat east on my signal. Do not engage at this time, over," he says.
"Affirmative, hold fire, awaiting signal, out."
Karbovic stows the radio and turns to the building's staircase.
"Sun, Reaf, we're leaving! Get your tails down here!" Karbovic shouts, before turning to Terry.
"Get over here, and watch for when the Paros start moving again."
A mortar hits their building, as if specifically intended to remind Terry of the ongoing bombardment. Of course, that wasn't a request nor a question or a favor. That was a command. Earlier crouching next to a wall, he nervously stands up. The fox jogs to the where Karbovic is, keeping his head low as another pair of mortars explode. The silver fox stops and sits by the doorway. With Darrell on the other side, Terry's only option is to sit uncomfortably close to the large wolf. The mortars come down frequently. In intervals of about five or seven seconds, two mortar rounds, slightly apart in the time they are fired, are sent downrange and land here. Speaking of which, another pair of mortars land, the first demolishing the already damaged roof of a building across the street. Rubble falls down to the pavement, six stories down. The second mortar explodes in the street outside Alpha Team's position, but still a distance away from any of the furs.
Just after the next mortars explode, Terry pokes his muzzle out the door and observes the enemy. He quickly spots the Paro APCs about 150 meters down the street, and the infantry not too far away. He hides back inside as the next two mortars explode, before emerging again. After a second observation, he can tell the APCs aren't moving and the soldiers appear to be waiting on the sidewalk, off of the exposed street. Terry takes notes of this, pulls his muzzle back when another mortar hits, a bit closer to their position. The silver fox waits for another minute or two, checking the Parosanans between incoming mortars, before the bombardment appears to have stopped. Carefully, Terry looks outside and finds the street occupied by a cloud of dust from the explosions. The fox also quickly discovers the Parosanan APCs and infantry have continued their advance.
"They're on the move," Terry says, turning his muzzle to face Karbovic. As Karbovic had expected, the Paros were waiting for the bombardment to end before advancing in order to avoid friendly fire.
"Alright Alpha and Delta, we're going back onto the street. Check your mags and make sure they're full," Karbovic says.
"Alpha, where are you? The Paros are almost on top of us, over!" his radio bursts out.
"Stand by, we're moving to position, out," Karbovic says into his radio.
Delta Team and the now reunited Alpha Team rapidly exit the structure. They drop to the ground and crawl behind the sandbags, avoiding detection. Terry ends up at the same location he was this before.
"We're in position, retreat east when I give the signal. Do not stop to engage, out!" the large wolf says into his radio.
"Sun, you still have a MURLD?"
"Only one."
"It'll have to do. Get it prepped."
Sun places his Type 49 on the ground and takes out his last disposable anti-armor weapon. The fox hastily disengages the safeties on the MURLD.
"Done."
"Hit the APC at the front, got it?"
Sun nods, and shoulders the cylindrical weapon. He moves his hindpaws and matted fox tail so that they won't be in the way of the backblast.
"Everyone ready?" the wolf asks, himself shouldering his Type 49 and aiming west towards the Paros. The wolf sees the soldiers nod from the edges of his field of vision, and hears a series of vocal confirmations.
"Sun, hit them!" Karbovic says.
The fox complies, firing the unguided disposable rocket launcher. The projectile bursts out of the tube and flies downrange towards the target.
"Now!" Karbovic shouts into his radio.
In that moment, all seven other soldiers in A and D Team open fire with their assault rifles, soon joined by Karbovic after raising his Type 49. The rocket hits its target, impacting the lead APC on its frontal armor. Sun unslings his rifle, being out of disposable rocket launchers, and fires back at the enemy. At the same time, the rest of Bravo 3-2 emerges from a few buildings roughly thirty meters ahead.
Terry squeezes his rifle's trigger briefly before hiding behind cover. He raises his muzzle above the sandbags again, and lines his rifle's sights on the Paros down the street, careful to avoid the rest of 3-2 retreating down the sidewalk. The enemy is awfully small down his sights, but he does his best and squeezes the trigger, allowing a quick burst out of the Type 49. Meanwhile, Karbovic fires off the last few rounds in his magazine.
"Bravo Team, stop here and return fire!" Karbovic shouts as he ejects the rifle's empty magazine. "Charlie, find a defensive position twenty meters back. Delta, go back forty meters! Alpha, you're at sixty meters!"
The teams switch positions, with Bravo Team covering the retreat while Alpha, Charlie, and Delta continue eastward. Terry follows after the rest of his reinforced section, and exchanges mags on the move, pressing on the magazine release while he runs further from the fighting. He doesn't bother keeping the empty magazine, and allows it to be lost.
"Charlie Team, hold here!" a fur shouts.
3-2 Charlie stops at that location, while Alpha continues on.
"Paratroopers over here!" another shouts.
Terry runs with his team a bit longer, draining more energy from him, before they halt.
"Alpha Team, right here!" Darrell shouts.
Terry hides behind the remains of a building collapsed onto the street immediately after Darrell. The silver fox uses the time to grab a fresh magazine from his vest, and shove it into his Type 49. Pulling back the charging handle, Terry feels something on his right shoulder. He whips his muzzle around to discover that the unknown object is Darrell's paw.
"You're doing fine, Terry." Darrell says softly.
Only now does the silver fox realize that he is out of breath, and breathing heavily. But Terry doesn't think as much about that as Darrell's paw currently on his shoulder. Despite being placed on the shoulder strap on the fox's vest, he can still clearly feel the paw on him. The wolf's paw isn't just placed there on Terry's shoulder from blind sympathy. It firmly holds onto the fox's shoulder through his vest, telling him that it is something more than that. The touch of another's paw against him felt so, how does he describe it? The feeling of it transfers kindness, and it holds a deep warmth and sympathy in this damned warzone. It feels so good. Terry feels almost a sense of protection from Darrell. In the face of this unforgiving war, hundreds of kilometers from home, fighting a war he isn't supposed to be fighting, someone is there for him.
Terry feels compelled to return the act. His insides churn, trying to motivate the silver fox to hug Darrell tightly in his arms, press his muzzle into the wolf's chest, and cry his heart out. Sob into his chest and tell him everything, tell Darrell about how life used to be, what it was like on the tiny Escova, his memories of playing in the river near his house, studying insects and lizards in the jungles right next to his home, the memories of the fights mom and dad used to have, and how dad left for Trunicia one day. Simply tell him all about his friends in school, how he was with them all the way to senior high, how much he liked his simple life back home, how his best friend Richard was with him the whole time, how the whole class stayed together even when they entered the draft, how some were moved to mainland Corysia, stationed in the Senchen Region. Explain how he was selected for transfer one day, how scared he was to be with the 'real' troops in the 54th Infantry Division, the pressure he felt to live up to unstated expectations, how terrified he was when war broke out, his experience of the Northern Front, but most of all, how much he misses his corner of Escova, and the safe aura Darrell had on him. It has been too long since Terry felt the touch of another fur, especially a touch that felt remotely, in a way, intimate.
But the touch doesn't last long, or as long as Terry would hope ffor. In just seconds, Darrell breaks physical contact with Terry, leaving in its wake a cold, empty feeling in the silver fox. The rush of the memories flooding through his mind causes tears to form in his eyes. As fast as the brief touch just moments before, Terry snaps out of his situation, seeing Darrell emerge from cover and fire a few rounds.
The fox quickly realizes where he left off. He was pulling back his rifle's charging handle, and while distracted, released it. A round is already chambered inside, and the rifle is ready for use. Terry exposes himself from the safety of the rubble, and shoulders the Type 49 assault rifle. He takes care not to shoot the other soldiers in 2nd Section, now retreating towards Alpha's current position. Soon afterwards, the lead Manta-60, barely operational, has sorted out the situation and returns fire. Unfortunately for the Parosanans, it fires rather inaccurately and misses the Corysian soldiers.
"Alpha, we're leaving! Everyone out of here now!" Karbovic shouts as he sprints past.
3-2 Alpha gladly complies, and the team sprints east as fast as they can. They have survived the engagement with comparatively excellent combat effectiveness, but their position was still not held. In Senchen, where every meter counts, tactical victories like this mean little.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to vote, comment, or provide any other form of feedback!