Sergeant Harald, Gallian Milita
Fresh, juicy and with just a hint of fine wine. Harald was very glad of the time he had spend preparing his steak and couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as the rest of the squad tucked into standard issue rations. He had some bits and pieces lying around and they were bound to salvage some supplies from the village... maybe he would whip up a nice stew once La Haye Sainte was secured. The squad would probably end up staying the night at this rate. 'Hm?' He grinned at Glaive sardonically. 'Us? Support? Since when do the Militia ever get support?' It was a valid point though. Chances were they were outnumbered and the Imps had an ideal defensive position in the hamlet. Using lancers as direct fire artillery, they could probably blow any MG nests they found easy enough, but it wasn't anything like having their own dedicated fire support battery. 'We'll have to improvise. Lancers can take out hardpoints in the buildings and our new friend has a mortar lance; she might be able to provide some covering fire.' The Sergeant gave Durandal an appraising look. 'What do you think, Private? How accurate are mortar lances anyway?' The sad fact was that Squad Four would have no real support in their attack, no heavy artillery barrage to soften up the enemy, no tanks to draw their fire. The approach into town would have to be either all guns blazing to keep the Imps suppressed, or completely silent to avoid detection. Before he could continue, Bons caught his attention with a frantic hand signal; someone was approaching. By the time Harald had grabbed his weapon, he heard the pass code for friendly forces and relaxed back against the tree with a sigh of relief...
'Ey-up, Hunt. Can't say I'm surprised. If I were holding a set of well provisioned farmhouses, I'd be pretty cocky too.' His smile faded as the scout gave his report, replaced by a grim frown. The lack of cover would put a serious cramp in their plans, as any open assault would be like reliving the First Europan War... 'Well, shit. I guess we'll need to take another tact. Good job you three. Settle down, have a bite to eat. Stichler! Over here, if you please.' He stood heavily and walked a short distance away from the others as he waited for the Corporal to catch up, rolling another cigarette absent-mindedly. 'Well, looks like we have a bit of a shit job ahead of us. You heard Hunt, our approach into the town is all open fields and there's a chance that the Imps have sentries scattered around the outlying farmhouses.' Sparking up, he leant against a tree and produced an old ordinance map. 'Piece of shit belongs in a museum, but I think we can assume that these fields here and here are watched. That gives them full line of sight on all angles of approach, bar this little bit on the other side.' He pointed out the dividing line between two fields, on the far side of the town from where the squad was camped. 'I'm thinking a two pronged night assault. You and three others sneak around while the rest of the squad prepares to move over these fields under cover of dark. We hit them in the front, hopefully once we're close enough to do some real damage, while you slip in behind and begin clearing buildings. We'll draw their attention, so you should be fairly clear. By the time you reach the fourth and final building, we'll have forced a breach and cleared it. Hopefully.' His eyes flicked back to Stichler's. 'Whaddya think?'