MassasaugaCaptain Meulemann
Captain Meulemann leaned back in his chair as he listened to reports coming in from the front line. Progress was being made at an exceptional rate, with his column and the other army units pushing deep into enemy territory, encountering minimal resistance along the way. The results flew in the face of the saying 'No plan survives contact with the enemy', since everything was indeed going according to plan. Better than that, actually, since they had taken less casualties than the original projections had estimated. As his aide slid markers around the map, Meulemann lit a pipe and started to puff on it thoughtfully, allowing himself a minute to relax. Maybe, just maybe, this plan would go off without a hitch.
***
30 minutes later, the plan encountered a hitch and the captain was back hunched over the map, observing the movements of markers and listening to reports again. "Contact! Zero, this is Eleven. Imperial counter-attack in grid 4-2-7. We're holding them off, but... wait, what's that? SHIT, IS THAT A TANK?! RUN! MOVE! MOVE! MOV-*static*" Meulemann pursed his lips as his aide slid a tank marker onto the grid. The platoon commanders in the area started broadcasting orders for the southern portion of the army to fall back and take up defensive positions, when broadcast from the northern section came in. "*static*-Nine. Imperial's attacking from the rear in, uh... Grid 4-2-4. Haulting our advance to return fire." A minute later, the radio operator started transmitting again, this time abandoning all semblance of formality or proper protocol. "It's a goddamn pincer! Squad 10 is gone, we're being overrun! We're retreating to the *BOOM* north! We need reinforcements right now!" "Roger that, Zero, this is Fourteen. Our column's turning south to support the remnants of Nine and Ten." Meulemann scowled as the reports kept coming in. Squad 9 and 10 nearly got wiped out, but 13 and 14 managed to turn south and rescue the survivors. The northern portion of their sector was managing to hold their own, at least, but the southern section kept sounding worse and worse. First it was a single tank and a squad or two that were reported, but now the Imperial's apparent strength had ballooned into three tanks and several squads of supporting infantry who were skirmishing across the street from the southern forward command post. If something wasn't done, there was a significant chance that it would be overrun. That meant it was time for the reserve unit to be put into action. Standing up from the table, Meulemann yelled for squad 4 to form up in the main room. "Squad 4, come here and gather 'round. The situation has rapidly become dire."
Once the squad graced him with their presence and rallied around the table, Meulemann and his aide began moving markers around the map to brief them on the battle. "Lads, the situation has rapidly deteriorated into the imperial's favour. At the start of the operation, my company and elements from the Gallian 1st army began to advance through the city." He spoke quickly, as he paced back and fourth in front of them, clearly agitated. "It was in this sector..." He pointed to a section of the map to draw the squad's attention.
"That we have encountered a problem. The column managed to break through the Imperial defenses and began advancing along the two northern streets, with the regular army's assistance. It seems that the Imperials were expecting this, however, as a large group of reinforcements has crashed through our southern line, and... eliminated one of our advancing units." The captain spat out the word 'eliminated' like it was sour, disgusted that one of his units had been caught in a pincer attack and slaughtered before additional forces could be rallied to their assistance. As he spoke, his aide shifted some of the markers around on the map to give a visual representation of what had happened.
Meulemann waited a moment to allow the squad to digest the information, before rearranging the markers a 3rd time with his aide, and leaning on the desk, a complex look on his face. "The current Imperial positions are here, here and here. Our northern section is currently fighting the pincer attack that took out squads 9 and 10, but the southern section is in the worst shape. As of the last report, they claim to be engaging no less than three imperial medium tanks and five squads of infantry." He looked up at the squad, gauging their reactions to this large number, before continuing. "This is where you fine chaps come in. The southern forward command post is in danger of being overrun, and will not last much longer unless someone comes riding to the rescue. You have two possible approaches."
Meulemann slid a pair of yellow arrows onto the map to designate the locations he was talking about. "You can deploy and advance up the main road on the west side to break the assault on our command post. This is where the majority of the forces besieging the command post are located. Their tanks are currently clustered together, halted behind the tank traps, but they are putting so much lead down range that the CP's lancers can't hit them for shit. Their attention should be focused entirely forward, so you'll be able to inflict some significant damage before they realize you're there or get turned around." He took a deep breath, before pointing to the other arrow. "Alternatively, you could attack along the east-most road and assault the imperial command post. This would disrupt their communications and force them to pull units back from the front line to defend, taking a bit of pressure off our CP. They seem to have committed the bulk of their forces to the counter attack, so expect it to be lightly defended until their reinforcements show up." After finishing this, he swept the pieces off the map and onto the floor before rolling the map up and thrusting it into Hunt's arms. "Time is of the essence, gentlemen, get to it. Mount up and make your plan en-route, there is no time to waste. You should reach the battle within 10 minutes if you're quick. I know this is asking a lot from you, but the fate of this battle depends upon your success. After you have completed your objective, you will assist what ever remains of our forces in clearing the city. Does anyone have any questions? Good. Dismissed."
PFC Snider was the first to leave, sprinting out the door and climbing into his tank to start it. Once the rest of the squad had climbed onto the top, he yelled "Does everyone have something to hold onto? Alright, hold on tight, we're moving out." With that, the tank rumbled off as fast as it could go while the squad waited for Hunt to come up with the battle plan.