((With permission from [@LetMeDoStuff]))

[center][h1][b][color=f7941d]PREPARATION[/color][/b][/h1][/center]

Time had passed.

The train flung towards Amone had been a kind of respite.  Though there hadn't been much to do on board, the 15th Atlantic Rifles had spent some time getting re-asserted into themselves, after that first initial shock of war to their system.  People like Jean and Lucia and Michael, who had been so heavily affected by their first day - seemed human again instead of walking dead.  And though others - like Isaac, for instance - were not so overtly harmed at the time, it's not to say there were no scars.  Merely...they bore with it and moved on, because they had to.  People handle the dark times in their lives differently, at different rates, or..they do not at all.  Isaac was personally glad to see that everyone he had met and grown to like and understand in the 15th could laugh and love their lives again.  He knew that they were not fully-recovered, that such a remedy to them all would take years...or never come at all.  He was simply glad to see that the delicate thread of sanity had not snapped under pressure for them all.  They just had to hang in there and deal with things, one day at a time.  'No task is insurmountable, just requiring the appropriate footwork.'  That was something [i]else[/i] is father told him.

Isaac wished that someone like his father were in charge, instead of Middleton.  Lieu-  No, [i]Captain[/i] Middleton was just a granite-boned asshole who needed to get his eyes checked.  He thought he was talking to hardened soldiers molded from clay to a task, but he didn't see that they were just people - some of them unwilling, some of them aangry, and all of them scared.  Even Isaac was scared, in some dark corner of his mind where he kept his common sense.  He put it away every time he trained wolves and now when he went to battle.  It said 'Forget sense!  I need instinct!  I have to protect, look after, hunt, kill!'.  Putting his mind in that of a canine who was transitioning from the wild thoughts to the trust of a new alpha, a [i]human[/i] alpha, was a helpful focus.  Hunt, feed, protect - strong emotional responses to times of need.  His father trusted in his ability, his way of looking at things, and he did not rush him.  The Imperial Army was in a rush.  Maybe if the Federation just laid trap after trap, they'd kill themselves instead of getting so many people killed by clashing like deer with gunpowder antlers, everything exploding...

They'd spent so much time, the lot of them, talking and listening to things.  Lucia was telling them about an incredible cathedral.  Isaac wasn't one for art, but he could appreciate the complexity of architecture, the work and the craftmanship going into things.  These massive monoliths built to stand the test of time were suppose to be forever.  Kind of sad that a few mortars could end all that.  That was the other half of war.  The first was the shock and the terror.  The last was the sadness and the loss.  If someone blew up his farm, they'd rebuild it.  The community would [i]help[/i], even.  If someone blew up a cathedral, good fucking luck.  Things built to last take a long time and alot of money.  War cost people so much that you can hardly compile what the Imperials would owe to satisfy the world they were butchering.  If they won this, if they beat them, that country might dissolve.  Would it be worth it?  Would it matter to him, or anyone who isn't a General or a otherwise position of power?

Their time of arrival was soon at hand, and that meant it was time for everybody to pick up their stuff and get going.  Isaac made the rounds after Baker had given the order, calling for everybody to do just that, one name at a time.  He wasn't hard.  He would never be too hard on these guys, just firm.  He had to be like his father, authoritive and wise, not shouting and irritating.  Wolves do not bark, and hybrids maybe not often or ever.  Make your howl known and move on.  That was the way.  Outside...  Well, it was murky, but at least it wasn't raining this time.  Isaac didn't like the rain, and after the first day...he doubted anyone else did either.  Soon, they were out there and Middleton was coming to address his troops.  As soon as he did, though, Isaac's first thought was...

[color=f7941d][i]Good lord, he's got one of those officer coats on.[/i][/color]

He did, though.  Middleton was wearing one of those coats - call 'em trenchcoats or greatcoats - that all the officers had, some of which seemed to be donned specifically to look and feel important, regardless of whether or not anything were truly accorded such.  Knowing how the man thought, Isaac was certain that the Captain was definitely on a 'feel important' kick, looking good in front of everybody for all the vain and unnecessary reasons.  Middleton started giving off his report and orders.  First, it seemed that they were being split into squads.  He felt confident that everyone they were with would be concidered reliableand trustworthy by all, and if they did not, then fuck you.  He did not SAY that, specifically, but that is what he essentially [i]meant[/i].  Jean was in charge of Squad One, and chances are that meant that the people surrounding him now - the people he'd been bonding with on the train - were going to be with him.  He and Daniel needed to support Jean, to make sure leadership didn't break him over its knee like dry kindling.  Daniel wasn't...extremely supporting.  He was rather blunt, which could help or hurt, dependent on the circumstance of things.  That didn't sit well with Isaac, but he'd try to manage him, if possible.  If the wolf is nipping at your heels, you must dissuade him.

Now uhh...there was another instruction that Middleton had before he left.  Before they were to gear up on all the stuff they would need for the day, they needed to go and change their uniforms.  What  Why?  Well, he had to line up and get into the stores area to find out.  Once inside...

[color=f7941d]"So, why are we changing our uniforms, exactly?"[/color]

The man handing him his stuff just looked at him and spoke.

[b]"I dunno.  Someone thought this was better for fitting in, meshing with then environment, and whatnot."[/b]

[color=f7941d]"We're going into a city, though, and this is...what?  Forest?  Dry dirt and grass?  That doesn't fit in.  [i]This[/i] does."[/color]

He pointed out his own heavy flak vest.

[b]"Where'd you get that, then?  It's not standard, is it?"[/b]

[color=f7941d]"My drill sergeant thought I'd earned it.  He wanted me to last longer if I got in the way of a few bullets."[/color]

[b]"Well, I won't take it from a man what's trying to keep himself alive.  That'd be a sin.  Put it on over or under or whatever, but you gotta change, same as everyone else."[/b]

Over, then.  He was sure that this was gonna stick out in the city, whereas his flak vest would make him less visible in the shadows, at least.  Middleton's taste in soldier attire was about as bad as his own personal tastes.  If they were ambushing troops in the woods, sure, but this was a [i]bad[/i] choice.  Still, he soon joined everyone else as they started to gather.  Prior to marching, Jean wanted to outline the overall plan for them.  This, Isaac became extremely attentive towards.  He needed to know what it was he was protecting everyone FROM and FOR.  Very important stuff.  Apparently, they were going to cut off supply tunnels once they got into the city, part of a massive movement to break the seige by piecemeal.  A long task...with appropriate footwork...one hoped.  However, there were alot of things that would be hard to account for.  This was a maze of streets, not a trench war.  It would be like playing tag with guns, and it was not funny.  Worse, the noise.  Fire a gun and it could bring all kinds of attention on you, and you didn't know if it would be friend or foe, or just townspeople trying to stay alive.  Jean was right to be worried, and to warn them all.  Some of them seemed hopeful, Isaac tried to encourage Lucia's smile with one of his own, because it was a plan, and it sounded like it could work.

[i][color=f26522]At least it's not some glory charge, like last time.[/color][/i]

Oh, how Isaac was was going to eat those words later, when he finally worked it out.


[center][h1][b][color=f7941d]CAVALRY CHARGE[/color][/b][/h1][/center]

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_439qLQzHs[/youtube][/center]

The march onwards was long, and Isaac had been mainly focused on how he was going to keep things together once they got moving.  He hadn't been thinking of the [i]first[/i] part of the plan, about the cavaliers.  He thought of tactics and the teachings that his drill sergeant had imprinted on him: The problems of noise and how to deal with them, combat in rooms, dealing with soldiers around corners, being watchful of grenades, silent take-downs, and all that.  He suspected that his counterpart, Britta, was the better marksman of the two of them, but he...was probably the better killer.  He'd gone through the fullness of training to survive, holding nothing back because he wanted everybody to live.  So, he'd been focused on that until the clearance zone, where they had observation of the area and the cavalry.

And then, it hit him.

It hit him like a brick to the face, like the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM of the mortars of Hill 58, when they had to duck and run out of there once it was safe.  Cavalry horsemen were going to charge on the weakest points to break the lines?  But they weren't armed for the kind of stuff they saw at Hill 58, at all!  You couldn't fire guns accurately at full charge!  He'd ridden horses!  You're bouncing up and down at full gallop, so who could possibly do anything right?  Unless they all had machine guns, and they didn't! Isaac realized this with a cold shock overcoming him.  If any of them even [i]made it[/i]...it would be a miracle.  Britta, nearby and behind him, must've come to the same conclusion and grabbed his shoulder as the horses lined up for the charge.

[b][color=ed1c24]"Isaac-"[/color][/b]

[color=f7941d]"I know."[/color]

[b][color=ed1c24]"But our [i]training[/i]-"[/color][/b]

[color=f7941d]"I [i]know[/i]..."[/color]

[b][color=ed1c24]"We have to [i]say[/i] something."[/color][/b]

[color=f7941d]"No one will hear, or care.  They won't stop it."[/color]

There was nothing they could do.  If they had machine gun nests...  Everyone here knew hill 58, but Isaac and Britta had both been trained specifically on the machine gun, in the best ways to strike at a charging enemy.  A cavalry charge was just a big target.  You could cause great chaos in the ranks of it with the appropriate gunfire.  He knew.  He [i]knew[/i] and he'd simply forgot because of his focus on the mission.  Those people were gonna die...they and all those beautiful horses...and he could do nothing to stop it.  Isaac looked around, his thoughts turning to...yes, there.  A little hard to pick her out in the new uniform with the helmet on, but there she was.

[color=f7941d]"Lucia, could I have a moment?"[/color]

The silver-haired Asseni looked over at him, a quizzical look on her face.

[color=8dc73f][b]"Yes, Isaac...sir?"[/b][/color]

[color=f7941d]"You don't have to call me sir."[/color]

[b][color=8dc73f]"Okay, what is it?"[/color][/b]

[color=f7941d]"What do you think of this uniform?  I don't think it works for me.  Looks kind of ugly, don't you think?"[/color]

He called her attention away from the field just as the call to charge went up, making conversation and trying to get her engaged with it, all the while counting the seconds towards the inevitable sound of gunfire.  She smiled, she even laughed, and Isaac tried to keep it up, himself.  He glanced back and saw Britta's head just lowered.  The farm boy was just trying to get her to punch his flak vest to feel how solid it was when they both heard it.

[color=f7941d][i]Oh god, the noise...the cries...[/i][/color]

It was shrill and terrible, the sound of life being lost en masse, not just human but also equine.  The look on both of their faces, the horror of it, was palpable.  Lucia turned to look at what was going on and Isaac pulled her back, just holding tight at the knowledge of her mounting distress.

[color=f7941d]"Don't look.  Just...don't.  It'll be over soon."[/color]

He could hear her trying to contain it, but he knew that Lucia must have been in tears, the way she shook at the mere [i]imagination[/i] of what was going on.  The terror of the war had a stamp on her that was unremoveable.  Still, she'd managed her voice through all of this.

[b][color=8dc73f]"Did...did you know that going to happen...?"[/color][/b]

[color=f7941d]"Yes, I did.  I'm a Gunner, so my training...  I'm sorry.  There's nothing I could do.  If it means anything, I know now how you felt back in the trenches."[/color]

Orders made her shoot someone while looking them in the eyes.  Orders made him stay here - by force, if necessary - to stand there and do nothing about the people that were going to be killed, just killed.  There was nothing to be gained from this.  They were [i]slaughtered[/i], and it may as well have been his own bullets doing it.  Because nobody would have listened and he would have been just hauled away, he was just as powerless to the command as Lucia had been, effectively murdering their own people for nothing.  He looked around and saw others trying to keep people from looking directly at it.  Jean was focusing a couple of the girls.  Michael was calling the sappers to attention.  He was doing what he thought best.

[color=f7941d]"I won't let this happen to any of us.  I won't let Middleton sacrifice us like that.  I swear I won't..."[/color]