Lennon79 — Roleplayer Guild

'And you, Bons... Don't be a bellend.'

As everyone split up to shower and rest, Alonso took off on his own. The Sergeant's words had hurt, not only because he had succeeded in hitting the tank, but also because they were right. He knew full well that pulling something like that would have gotten him killed in a real battle, but for the life of him, Alonso couldn't come up with a better idea in that situation. Would it be the same when he faced the Imperials again? Would he end up making another stupid decision and end up dying due to stupidity? If nothing else, the practice battle had really hammered home his own vulnerability and now... Alonso found himself markedly less eager to hit the front lines.

1455 March 29th 1935 EC
Parade Ground, Fort Breda

Striding purposefully across the concrete parade ground, Captain Meulemann rifled through the papers he had been working on the the last few hours. The mission ahead was deceptively simple, but had plenty of pitfalls that his troops could fall through, especially Squad Four. The rest of the company would be briefed the next day when they prepared for full mobilisation of the division, but a select few had to be sent out first, to prepare the way. Seeing him coming, the squad quickly organised themselves into a line and saluted. 'At ease, all of you. For the next week or so, you can consider that a standing order. I'd rather not be flagged as a target for every sniper within half a mile...' Tarquin smiled dryly, unaware that gallows humour might not have been the best way to keep them relaxed. 'If you would follow me, I shall explain forthwith the details of our first deployment.'

The Captain led them to a small awning lined with chairs before a large map of central Gallia, replete with information on suspected enemy forces and their locations. A single city was highlighted in red; Vasel. 'In a week's time, the Militia will launch a general assault on the city of Vasel with the aim of securing a vital river crossing. With this choke-point under our control, Imperial forces in the north will be cut off from their supplies and the Army can begin their own offensive eastward.' Essentially the entire Militia operation was in support of the regular Army, albeit without their support in return. But the battle for Vasel itself wasn't the squad's problem. 'In order to lay the groundwork for our assault, several squad will be deployed ahead of the main forces to secure crossroads and scout enemy positions. You will be one of these pathfinding units, operating on your own initiative until the rest of the Militia catches up with you. From there you will be placed in reserve, in case the main battle becomes too... costly.'

Tarquin paused for a moment, taking the time to look each soldier in the eye. In some he saw fear, in others determination, even the odd hint of anticipation. Good, he thought. A solid balance of eagerness and trepidation makes for a good soldier. '... Your first objective in the village of La Haye Sainte, thirty-four miles north of Randgriz. It is little more than a hamlet; a handful of farms and a shop, all abandoned by now. However it is also a strategically vital crossroad which links the route to Vasel with a major east-west road.'  The Captain turned away and removed the map from the stand it rested on, replacing it with a smaller one of the village itself. 'You have two objectives within La Haye Sainte; first, rout or destroy any Imperial presence. Second, lay mines to interdict armoured movement along the east-west road.' The briefing was somewhat lacking in detail, but this was simply all the intelligence they had on Imperial movements. If Tarquin had it his way, they wouldn't bother with these light infantry screens; instead the entire division would simply march up and kick down the door. Maybe one day when he was a General things might be different, but for today... '... Any questions?'

1530 March 29th 1935 EC
Undisclosed Location, Gallia

'Sir! The tanks are refuelled and ready for the field test, sir!' Lieutenant Marcus Beirmann returned the tech's crisp salute and ordered his crew back to their vehicle with a click of the finger. As they prepped the tank for combat, he marched off to a nearby tent to relay the news. 'Major Mooringstar, ma'am. We are ready to begin. May I respectfully suggest that you remain here and observe?' He knew his superior well enough to know she would refuse, but it was worth a try. As he awaited her reply, Marcus took a long look about the camp, revelling in the glory that was Squadron 655. The Empire's armoured formations were legion, but of them all Sqrn 655 was unique; made up of only the best and most decorated crew, equipped with the bleeding edge of Europan experimental tanks and of course, commanded by the savant, Major Lynette Mooringstar. Marcus himself was a well-known ace, having earned his Iron Cross hunting Federation tanks in close quarters combat in the streets of a dozen continental cities. He focused his attention back on the commander, chiding himself for the momentary distraction.
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