Ablaze Ch.16: Battle of Senchen (13)
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.
Here, the Corysian armored task force, TF Iron, has finally entered Senchen. The Armored Light Combined Battalion, or ALCB, attempts to advance deeper and relieve the 2/159th Infantry and other surrounding formations.
Cover art symbols are from "MIL-STD-2525C".
Attacking: Parosana Mechanized Armored
Defending: Corysia Mechanized Battalion (2/27th)
Terrain: Urban
Characters: Tank Crew (Alpha Company, 2/27th Mechanized, 7th Armored Division): Kan - Wolf - Driver Tamekov - Husky - Gunner Rucker - Wolf - Commander
Infantry Team (Bravo 3-2 Alpha, 2/159thInfantry): Karbovic - Wolf - Squad Leader Reaf - Wolf - Designated Marksfur
The Industrial - 4 kilometers behind lines - 12:39 PM
"What is taking so long?" the Corysian Type 56w-IFV gunner asks.
"Gosh, I don't fucking know, alright?" the commander shoots back.
The gunner sighs, the coyote's tail twitching in his frustration, paw rapping irritatingly on the fire-control systems in front of him. Here they are finally in the port city of Senchen itself, after being stationed in the surrounding area for almost a month now. They are deep enough in the city to be surrounded by tall buildings all around, but they are yet to reach the fighting. The sound of rock and roll blasting from the vehicle's radio fails to suppress the tension. In the back, a squad of Corysian infantry furs waits nervously for whatever will happen next. Sitting stationary, the Corysian wheeled medium vehicle isn't even moving forward. Easily visible with any visual contact to the outside world are numerous furs outside. Civilians and wounded Corysian soldiers push past the long column of armored fighting vehicles from the 27th 'Dragon' Mechanized Brigade.
"Can't fucking take this anymore," the commander mutters, restless from being trapped inside the confines of the IFV turret. The fox unlocks the hatch, and pushes it open.
Blinding natural light shines into the turret, causing the gunner to groan and cover his eyes. Hot, humid air surrounds the IFV commander, not much different from the air inside of the boiling turret. The noise and shockwave of distant explosions thunder down the streets. Eventually they reach the Type 56w, audible as a loud rumble. Clouds of assorted building materials rise in the distance, marking the 2/159th Infantry's location for all to see. The fox, meanwhile, glances around the vehicle, dumbstruck by the happenings around him. Surrounding the Type 56w are furs flowing past the column of armored fighting vehicles, trying gain distance between them and the war invading their homes. Civilians hurry through the streets, fleeing the violence in the city, bearing whatever meager possessions they have in their paws. Corysians troops, in turn, push past the furs to transport wounded, save their buddies who are being overrun, or reinforce those awaiting it.
Most civilians should have fled a city under assault by the time a month comes around, but Corysia is not kind of place where everyone is financially secure. While furs have fled from Senchen during the first few days of war, many stayed behind. Even when the major coastal city was attacked, some decided to hold their ground in the face of the Parosanans. Many are still here because they have no means of transport, and thought it would be a better idea for them to hang tight and hope for the best. After all, their possessions and all they have are stuck in Senchen. That might have actually worked, if not for the days of urban warfare dragging into weeks.
Meanwhile, the IFV commander figures out what the holdup is. Ahead by about four hundred meters is a rising column of disgusting black smoke. Not something unexpected, especially since Parosana rules the battlefield in terms of supporting elements. Friendly air support is almost entirely ruled out with two full-sized carriers stationed offshore, naturally including their CAGs, and Corysian artillery executing fire missions is usually taken out by counter-battery before they can relocate. The ruckus in the distance is probably the result of naval gunfire from the Parosanan fleet, or a strike by naval aircraft. But it doesn't matter which. Either way, they're stuck here until whatever going on up there un-fucks itself.
"It's a damn circus out here," the IFV commander mutters.
He sighs, retreats back into the turret, and seals the hatch. He closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his muzzle, hoping that the Parosanan fleet wouldn't decide to drop explosives on his location.
The Industrial - Charlie Line - 12:41 PM
A Manta-80 tracked IFV explodes, and is quickly consumed by flames. The wreckage flings sparks in all directions, and whatever ammunition inside cooks, causing a secondary explosion.
"Road's clear!" a Reaf shouts.
A team of marines quickly sprints across to a warehouse on the other side before entering the structure. Meanwhile, Karbovic slaps a fresh magazine into his Type 49. Damn it, we're fucking losing this! Two more lines of warehouses, a narrow strip of railroad tracks, and Bravo Line, a line of housing complexes, is all that stands between the semiconductor fab and power plant they supposed to protect.
Where is that fucking air support? Where is the armored support? Karbovic asks himself. They won't be able to keep the Paros away from the objective facilities if friendly air or armored support is unable to get here soon.
A Parosanan fixed-wing aircraft flies overhead, demolishing a building quite a distance back. That was where the last of their battalion's anti-tank guided missile teams were. Several more carrier aircraft fly past, dropping ordnance a distance behind Bravo 3-2.
"This is Battalion Command, all units on this channel, fall back to Bravo Line immediately!"
Karbovic swears under his breath.
"We're moving, let's go!"
Bravo 3-2 leaves the safety of the crater and retreat with the rest of 3rd Platoon. Karbovic checks his watch after they take cover behind the thick walls of a warehouse. The time is 12:42. Somehow, if they just somehow manage to keep the Paros at bay for another hour or so, the support might make it in time.
The Industrial - 4 kilometers behind lines - 12:43 PM
"Kan, we're moving!" the radio crackles straight into the wolf's ear, tucked under his helmet.
The driver gladly accelerates the Corysian Type 44m3 main battle tank, designated as Alpha 2-2. For however long 2-2 was stuck here, Kan had to lie on the driver's seat, stuck behind the tank's glacis, and remain still in the uncomfortable position with nothing to do. At least now the column of light combined elements, all from 2/27th Mechanized Battalion, is on the move. In the tank's turret, the commander, Rucker, sits back in his seat and sighs.
"Alpha Company, we're clear to resume our advance, out," their company's commanding officer radios Alpha 2-2 even as their tank jolts forward.
Although the tank isn't advancing particularly quickly, the gray wolf feels like they are racing along, especially compared to before. They make good progress, and quickly pass by the source of the holdup. The remains of an entire tank platoon decimated in a series of explosions, probably a bombing run by carrier aircraft, rests among rubble from a collapsed multi-story structure. Passing by the wreckage, the tank continues westward to reinforce 2/159thInfantry.
"Damn! Hey Rucker, you see that?" Tamekov says.
The tank's commander turns his muzzle to the side, facing the Type 44m3's gunner, Tamekov. The husky points at the image displayed on his fire-control systems in front of him. Rucker stands up the best he can, and looks through his cupola's viewports. Up ahead, but thankfully to the side and off of the street they're on, rises an immense could of debris.
"They don't want us anywhere near the battle," the gray wolf comments.
As soon as Rucker settles back down on his commander's seat, the radio bursts out again.
"This is Task Force Command, all units be advised, Parosanan mechanized elements are moving to cut off the 2/159th. Their path will lead them at us; prepare for imminent contact, out!" their company CO notifies.
Before the transmission even ends, the Type 56w-IFV in front of Alpha 2-2 is shredded from automatic cannon fire as it tries to pass an intersection. The wheeled medium bursts into flames, consuming the vehicle's crew along with the infantry squad inside.
"IFV-2 is gone!" a voice says through the radio.
"Where the fuck did it come from?" another says.
"Down the street, someone get the bastard!"
Being directly behind the infantry fighting vehicle, Rucker decides for Alpha 2-2 to engage.
"Get the tank forward!" Rucker says to Kan.
The driver complies, maneuvering 2-2 around the burning Type 56t.
"This is Alpha 2-2, we're moving to engage hostiles," Rucker announces with their tank's radio.
Rucker then turns his muzzle to face the gunner.
"Load a HEAT round!" the wolf says.
Tamekov presses a button, selecting the type of ammunition desired, and pulls on a lever, calling the tank's autoloader into action. It picks up a 125mm high-explosive anti-tank round from the Type 44m3's rotating internal magazine, raises the main gun to align the autoloader with the gun's breech, and rams the new round in. While the autoloader is working, the husky brings the turret around, pointing it down their right side as the tank exposes itself. Sure enough, a Parosanan Manta-80 IFV, similar to the Corysian Type 56t-IFV, appears in the distance.
"Enemy IFV, engage!"
Tamekov uses the fire-control systems to quickly obtain a firing solution. Part of the upgrade package from the Type 44m2 to m3 included the well-acclaimed MACTIS, Modular Advanced Computerized Tank Improvement Systems, designed by Atladius. The laser range-finder feeds information into the fire-control computer, taking numerous factors into consideration, along with wind speed and direction, and simplifies it by telling the gunner where to aim on a small monitor. Tamekov just needs to press a button for the laser, aim accordingly, and shoot.
"2-2, sending round!" the husky says.
He squeezes down on the trigger, firing the Type 44m3's main gun. The tank, weighing upwards of forty tons, lurches from the force of the blast. A thin cloud of dust forms after being disturbed from the exploding propellant. Forming a massive ball of fire at the gun's muzzle, the expanding gas launches the 20kg projectile at more than a kilometer a second, allowing the HEAT round to cover the distance to the Manta-80 almost instantly. It detonates, annihilating the IFV and causing a catastrophic secondary explosion in the process. Kan rotates the tank so that it faces the enemy, narrowing their profile and revealing the tougher frontal armor instead of their flank armor.
"Alpha 2-1, this is Alpha 2-2," Rucker radios to their platoon leader's tank. "We just met and eliminated a Paro tracked medium, out."
Meanwhile, a succession of automatic cannon rounds find their mark on Alpha 2-2, but the 20mm rounds do little against the heavily armored Corysian Type 44 main battle tank. Rucker quickly finds the source of the incoming fire. Down the same street, another Manta-80 has revealed itself.
"Another IFV, load a HEAT!" the wolf says.
The husky pulls on a lever to initialize the autoloading sequence. The autoloader selects an appropriate 125mm round and pulls it out of the magazine. The tip of the smooth-bore main gun elevates by a few degrees, allowing a new round to be loaded.
"Alpha 2-1 we've made contact with a second IFV, out."
While the main gun is reloading, Tamekov obtains a firing solution from the tank's computer. A series of loud metallic sliding and clanging announces to the husky that the HEAT round has been loaded.
"Sending!"
Tamekov fires the main gun, sending the second 125mm round downrange to the same effect. Smoke pours from the 125mm gun's muzzle, the bore evacuator having released the gases.
"Alpha 2-2, this is 2-1; understood. 2-3 is behind you, and moving to assist, out."
Rucker soon spots another Type 44m3, Alpha 2-3, through his cupola. The MBT advances from their rear, and maneuvers around 2-2 and the destroyed Type 56w. The tank accompanies them in the intersection, main gun facing the same direction as theirs. Task Force Iron was supposed to link up and relieve the 2/159th Infantry. However, they've already made contact here, although they are close to the target location.
Suddenly Alpha 2-3 explodes, and the tank comes to a premature stop. No radio transmission is heard from 2-3.
"Alpha 2-3 has been hit!" Rucker says into the radio.
Rucker looks through the commander's thermal sights and tries to find the source of the incoming round. Tamekov beats him to it.
"Tank, behind the Mantas!"
The gray wolf then quickly spots a Parosanan armored fighting vehicle partially hidden behind the burning Manta-80s. It isn't just any armored fighting vehicle, but a Paro main battle tank. Rucker does not recall hearing from anywhere that the Paros have anything more than tracked medium vehicles at their disposal in Senchen.
"Tank, a fucking tank! Sabot, now!" the gray wolf shouts frantically.
Already, Tamekov is reaching for the weapon controls. He digs one of his claws into the button marked 'APFSDS', and almost rips off the autoloader's activation lever. As they have done many times before, the two Corysians wish they could be operating a Type 58, a modern and sophisticated MBT, instead. At least there was a loader who would hurry when the situation demands it! Tamekov activates the laser rangefinder, and the fire-control computers calculate the information fed in. Simultaneously, the autoloader pulls up an APFSDS round, the cartridge and round combined weighing around 20kg, before ramming it home into the gun. The husky immediately presses on the trigger.
"Sending round!"
The tungsten projectile flies out of the main gun, leaving Alpha 2-2 rocking back and forth. Shortly after leaving the gun's muzzle, the sabot around the main penetrator falls away, leaving an oversized dart of tungsten-carbide to cut through the air. It strikes near the base of the Parosanan tank's turret, and slices through the armor with ease. Fragments and overpressure alone are enough to kill the crew, but the tungsten dart also detonates the tank's internal magazine. The subsequent explosion manages to detach the turret from the rest of the armored fighting vehicle.
"All units, this is Alpha Company, proceed immediately to the objective. Alpha 3, Alpha 4, and Delta 1 are to stay behind and engage hostiles until Bravo Company arrives," the company CO orders over the radio.
"Is the place clear now?" Rucker asks.
"Seems safe, let's just get out of here!" Tamekov says.
"Kan, get us moving!" Rucker tells the driver.
Immediately, their tank begins to rotate until it faces west, in the same direction they were travelling in earlier. Alpha 2-2 lurches forward, chasing after another Type 44m3 also heading west, with several Type 56w wheeled mediums following behind them. Here and there, armored fighting vehicles remain to delay the Parosanans until Bravo Company relieves them.
While passing an intersection, a massive explosion blossoms on the outside surface of Alpha 2-2's turret. None of Alpha 2-2's crew even sees who fired the rocket. Thrown from the blast, Rucker's head smashes against the inside of the turret, but his helmet absorbs much of the impact. Kan keeps the Type 44 in motion, driving it through to the other side of the intersection and out of danger.
"Rucker, Tamekov, what's the situation up there?" Kan asks though the tank's radio. Nothing. "Rucker, Tamekov, are you two alright?"
Kan feels his chests tighten up. The wolf hopes his fellow tankers are alive. He doesn't want to open the turret's hatch later, only to find blood and bits of flesh and fur in there.
"Rucker, Tamekov, please respond!"
Thankfully, the Type 44m3's reactive armor prevented the turret from being breached. Disoriented from the blast, Rucker gradually takes in his surroundings. He quickly realizes Kan is trying to contact them, evident with the driver's frantic calls blaring through the radio equipment stuffed into Rucker's ears.
"Hey, relax, we're alright! I'm in one piece, and..."
Rucker pauses in the middle of his radio transmission. The gray wolf looks over at Tamekov, bleeding from his muzzle after it impacted the equipment near him. The husky raises his forepaw and gives a thumbs-up.
"Tamekov's fine too. Just get us out of here."