by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
There had been a constant barrage of enemy missiles and artillery shells throughout the morning and into the afternoon. The Army’s defensives on what was to become called the ‘Silk Mountain Range’ took a steady beating, with mounting casualties. Occasionally a squadron or two of fighters would fly over to bomb and strafe. All of this was only a prelude to the punishing conflagration that was to follow.
About fourteen hundred hours - 3AM, Palace Time - Legion’s generals unleashed their full fury on the redoubts and hills east of the river. Heavy, motorized artillery was finally in place on the recently abandoned positions the Marines had so heroically defended the day before. Finally within range of the Silk lines, hundreds of batteries opened up, with telling effect. For thirty minutes the ground shook all around Alba as thousands of explosive projectiles fell along the ridge.
This time it seemed different to the captain. She listened to her own people giving it back to ‘em. All along the hills and from the fog bank behind the ‘ka-froom!’ ‘ka-froom!’ and ‘whoosh!’ ‘whoosh!’ of return fire somehow soothed her mind. And then there were the big guns across the river. Oh, how sweet the music when their voices entered the chorus! And beyond her sight were the new defense systems located within the rock chambers of the PrasiaOdous themselves.
The surface-to-surface missiles the defenders of PrasiaOdous used carried over five tonnes of high explosive shrapnel charges in cluster warheads. As many as two-hundred separate guided bombs could be carried in one missile. Another missile style contained thousands of tiny winged darts made from spent fuel rods used in fission generators (refer to the MoonDust incident). From exploding warheads scattering across the target range at supersonic speeds, these heavy, pencil-shaped bullets devastated anyone exposed in the open, even those in lightly armored vehicles.
Alba poked her head up to look around. Acrid smoke choked her as she viewed the destruction and carnage surrounding her. She shouted over her shoulder, “I’ve gotta check on my children!”
Kfir made no attempt to stop his captain. He crawled through the shelter’s opening, his eyes searching for Alba. The woman was already on the run for the nearest covered trench. Getting close, she flung herself down on her belly and slithered into it. Kfir watched, contemplating his own actions. In seconds, Alba dug her way out of the shelter, jumped up, and charged off to the next foxhole. Kfir took off in the other direction.
For twenty minutes, Alba ran from one location to another, checking on her soldier’s welfare, encouraging the wounded, consoling the dying. This bombardment was not being as kind to Rock Company as the earlier one had been. Casualties were steadily mounting. The only thing that Alba could see keeping anyone alive was the dismally gray, low-hanging, thick clouds. The enemy was being forced to drop their missiles indiscriminately instead of with the usual pinpoint precision.
Looking off to the west, Alba watched billowing smoke rising from across the river. The roar of big guns had decreased, but their destruction wouldn’t have created such black clouds. Ammo dumps or fuel depot? Maybe... Whatever caused the fires, there seemed to be a lot of them. There was no more time to contemplate the fate of her distant brothers. She returned to her personal quest.
Eventually Alba and Kfir joined up. The captain wanted to remove the wounded to the rear. She had already sent the medics out to assist them. Kfir disagreed. He pointed toward the west and shouted, “There’s no place to send ‘em, Captain! They’ve been dropping plasma bombs over there. Keep your people hidden for now. There’s no place any safer than here for the moment.”
Alba conceded to Kfir’s wisdom and sadly surrendered to the situation. The crackling of an approaching artillery missile drew their attention. Both dove for the ground. The explosion released a concussive wave that lifted Alba and Kfir, throwing them several yards through the air. They crashed hard in the rubble of the hill, but were not seriously hurt.
“We’ve gotta’ get underground!” Kfir shouted, tugging on Alba’s sleeve.
The two stumbled back to their rifle pit only to find it was now a blasted crater several feet deeper than before. Kfir shoved Alba in. “Lighting doesn’t strike twice in the same place, you know.” He dove in after her.
Alba scolded him. “Don’t give me any tales! I’ve studied your science enough to know that what you said isn’t true!”
Kfir smiled. “Well, it sounded reassuring and that’s what I need now…a little reassurance.”
There was nothing left of the rifle pit. Their supplies, weapons and, worst of all, blankets and canvas were gone. The incessant rain soaked them and, with nothing to stop the wind, they were chilled into the shakes. Kfir finally shouted for Alba to stay and he hustled away, only to return shortly with a cut piece of truck canvas and a handful of rations.
He wrapped the two of them up tight in the canvas and then extracted some dark candy from a ration pack. With a grin, he offered Alba a chunk. “This ain’t one of them palace eateries. Why it ain’t even the Palace stables, but it has its merits.”
Alba took a chomp of the candy then demanded incredulously, “Name me one!”
Kfir took a close look at the captain, carefully examining her muddied, bruised face, and smiled. “You know what? That officer fellow was right. You sure are pretty.” He wrinkled up his nose. “That is, if you can get past the stink. Whew! You need a bath real bad.”
Alba was shocked. Not at what Kfir had said, but the effect it had on her. It became so surreal to her. Bombs and missiles were raining down from the skies, return fire was deafening, hundreds of aircraft were duking it out high above and people were dying all around them. And suddenly Alba found herself flirting in a field of lilies, eating candy, and cuddling with a very wonderful companion. The war at that moment disappeared and, for some strange reason, never returned to what it had been before.
Alba’s fear of death or injury diminished. She started taking each moment as it came, finding joy in the one living flower she might see on a bleak and torn battlefield. Also, death in general took on another perspective. She cared as much about her children, but worried less about them.
Alba let out one uproarious laugh after another, and then leaned over and kissed Kfir on the lips. She grinned. “You know, an officer can get in lots of trouble fraternizing with the enlisted soldier. I can’t let that happen!” She slapped Kfir on the arm. “Damn the colonel! I’m making you 1st lieutenant!” She kissed him again.
The enemy’s main advance toward the Silk started in the late afternoon. Shortly after the rain stopped, the shelling and missiles eased off. The skies above the clouds were nearly empty, the enemy air wing either having exhausted their ammunition and fuel or been driven off. Kfir warned Alba about what he believed was coming next.
“Have ‘em get the troops up!” Alba shouted. She climbed out of the shell hole, racing north along the ridge while Kfir ran south.
Alba had just reached the north end of her line when she started hearing what sounded like dozens of tiny canisters exploding off in the distance. She peered into the ground fog still shrouding the ice but could see nothing. The popping continued to increase until it reached a crescendo of indistinguishable cracklings.
“Get your anti-armor guns up!” She continually shouted as she raced back down her line. “The tanks are in the mine field!”
Alba found an abandoned rifle as she ran, scooping it up without slowing. Throwing herself into her bomb crater, she found Kfir already there. He had scarfed up a rifle, plenty of ammunition, and a shoulder-fired anti-armor missile launcher.
Breathless, Alba asked, “What’s going on? It sounds like a million tanks are coming to be setting off all those mines.”
Kfir shook his head. “No, Capt’n. Those mines are bein’ set off by some sort of signal device. The muck under this ice isn’t frozen. The mines planted on the ice last night sank down into it.
The hope was – is, I believe - that by blowing the ice sheet up just when the heavy armor gets to it, the armor will sink in and bog down into that muck. All this rain has made it just that much more likely.”
He pointed into the fog. “Big machines like heavy armor have to be tracked or on wheels. Anti-gravity machines, to carry such weight, require a lot of power. That’s why we use turbines in the anti-gravity trucks. By the time you added larger engines to provide power for anti-gravity engines, the armor would weigh twice what it does now and be much bigger in size…also a lot more vulnerable to attack.”
Alba didn’t necessarily understand everything Kfir said, but she comprehended enough. The heavy armor approaching across the ice sheet needed the ice as a road. If the road was knocked out from under them, they might stall out in the mud, sinking down, disabling them completely, or at least limiting their offensive capabilities. If the mines were a success, at best, the enemy would only have a new stationary gun emplacement line lending backup support to the advancing infantry instead of leading the charge.
When the crackling of exploding mines died down, the whine of hundreds of turbines filled the air. Then the entire line of waiting machines swept forward, toward the approaching enemy.
(Author’s note: The ensuing Battle of the Mist was the largest armored battle fought during the MueoPoros Campaign. Legion had assembled well over ten thousand mobile armor machines, tanks and heavy, motorized artillery on his western front. Motorized infantry from enclosed tracked personnel carriers to wheeled and gravity trucks numbered another twelve thousand vehicles.
Opposing them were four thousand tracked tanks and artillery cannons dug in along Silk Mountain. Another two thousand tanks and other tracked vehicles remained on the other side of the river, but because of field conditions did not see major combat at this time. Thus the Battle of the Mist was to be decided by two very different opposing combatants.
Leading the charge against the enemy’s heavy war machine were the lightly armored but fast and highly maneuverable gravity gun trucks, totaling close to three thousand. Added to this were the tracked light cavalry gun cars and a mish-mash of other assorted tracked machines, adding another twenty-five hundred to the mix. This seemingly ‘David vs. Goliath’ difference didn’t prove as advantageous to the enemy as one might expect.
Many gun trucks carried recoilless rifles that fired 1.5 inch sabotted bullets made from spent fuel rods. The velocity attained by these rapid-shooting guns - up to thirty rounds a minute - reached speeds up to five thousand feet per second. The two-pound bullets could penetrate up to four inches of the toughest armor. Other gun trucks carried smart missiles that would search for the most vulnerable locations to strike their targets.
Another factor was the broken ice. Many of the enemy tanks sank into the muck, thus limiting their movement. Although sabotted artillery bullets of much larger caliber were available to the enemy, most of the munitions they carried with them at the time were shrapnel charges for use against infantry. Without their mobility, the tanks were ‘sitting ducks’ so to speak. It was very difficult to ward off a determined attack from a fast moving pack of gravity gun trucks, which was the deployment strategy used by them in this battle.
Legion’s surviving armor was later pummeled by several squadrons of VoshanShars -flying tank busters. By the end of the day, most of the enemy armor had been taken out of the offensive fighting. The lighter infantry fighting machines and their aerial support ships were forced to continue the attack without the aid of their real powerhouses. Once again, the battle would have to be decided by the slogger.
Ever since the time a person picked up a rock or block of wood and used it in a fight, weapons have played a significant role in combat. Throughout the history of war, the general rule has been: ‘The better the weapon, the better the chances of winning the conflict’.
The varieties of killing tools designed by the children of the First Realm are profound and limitless. And oftentimes you would find the most primitive being used alongside the most advanced. The reader must keep these facts in mind when machines of war are described in my account.
Please remember, too, that it is not this author’s intention to retell the King’s War. Countless books and eyewitness accounts already exist, detailing every aspect of that war. The war was a pivotal point in the history of all living things. To this day, interest has not waned in its telling. The purpose of these Chronicles is to bring to the reader’s attention little-known information and facts about some very important people who influence our daily lives.
When this author discusses battlefield strategy, weaponry, and other related matters, it is for the purpose of fleshing out events surrounding the person or persons in the account. The simple descriptions often used, like gravity truck, or tracked tank or armor help to conjure up visions of battle, providing the emotional state of affairs at the time being written about. Only when circumstances require specific detail does this author attempt it.
For the general reader, knowing that the Depoues 49’s were superior fighters at the time of the MueoPoros campaign and that the VoshanShars were a new form of anti-tank fighter will suffice. If a reader desires to know more, he or she need only search the nearest museum or library. There the reader can become immersed in all the detail one desires. I leave that up to the reader.
Knowing that Alba’s trial by fire involved more than hand-to-hand combat assists the reader in appreciating the helplessness she felt at seeing her children face death from unseen enemies and by unstoppable missiles. By understanding that the King’s War was fought both with highly advanced machines and with swords and crossbows, helps the reader grasp other emotions, like the ones Alba felt in the knife fight some months before.
Weapons, like the landscape, weather, time of day, and so forth provide the reader with better understanding of why people acted the way they did. The personalities of your kings and seers of today were fully exposed by the events of those times. That history forces them to stand naked before you, for it presents the stark facts regarding those people. Without proper understanding of surrounding events and situations, those stark facts may well become distorted to the point of deifying or demonizing the very individuals who sacrificed everything, so that you and I could attain to the life which we have now.)
The fighting on the ice had been raging for better than two hours. For most of that time the infantry along the hills could do little but wait. The last light of day was fading before the southerly breezes had chased the fog away. What wide-eyed Alba witnessed in that twilight burned into her brain, symbolizing forever for her the true meaning of total war.
Looking east, to the north and south for as far as she could see, lay a land filled with flaming or smoldering wreckage. In and out of the boiling smoke, tiny black toy-like machines raced, shooting off little red, orange, or green sparks. Every once in awhile, one of the little toys would burst into bright colors of cascading red and gold. It was all so confusing for, from this distance, Alba was unable to tell who was who.
There was one sight she understood all too well, though. Beyond the main fighting lay a black mass that drew ever closer. It looked like some thick, oily tide creeping across the landscape, but Alba knew what it really was. Out on the frozen and torn plain advanced Legion’s army, possibly half a million strong - maybe more. Its advance was being slowed, but it wasn’t being checked. It could be that heavy armor had stalled out there at five or six miles, but the approaching hordes paid that little heed.
As the darkness closed around her company, Alba watched as the approaching flood swirled around the burning and blasted hulks mired in the mud. The heavy clouds, so much a protecting friend during the day, were now creating an impenetrable wall of blackness. In only minutes, the dim world beyond the hills disappeared into a black void, with only the flashes of guns revealing the closing enemy.
Alba wondered aloud, “How can they keep advancing in t
his darkness?! I can’t even see my hand let alone anything else...”
Kfir calmly replied, “When they come close enough, the sky above us will be lit up like day. Then they’ll pour iron down on us like hail. ‘Least that’s what I expect they’ll do. Even if that doesn’t happen - but don’t count on that kind of good luck - they won’t stop. Can’t! The weather is still warming up. If they don’t take these hills by morning and are still out there on the ice, nothing will be moving but the foot soldiers and the gravity trucks.”
He shook his head, hopelessness filling his heart. “If you have any magic powers at your disposal, I suggest you use ‘em soon. At best, we will hold these hills - that is, those few of us still alive.”
“Maybe I could wish them away.” Alba replied sardonically. Her sarcasm grew. “Why don’t I just stand up and ask them to go home?” She poked him. “I got it! Why don’t I call out to the sky and tell it to cast a light down on the ice fields so we can see our enemy?!”
With that, Alba crawled out of the crater and looked toward the east. The sound of gunfire was getting closer. She thought it less than a mile. Already, surviving gun crews from disabled trucks were streaming back up the hills. Any moment and the enemy would release its phosphorous bombs overhead, blinding her people, while at the same time making them easy targets for the approaching infantry.
Alba called down to Kfir. “Have you ever seen someone spit into the wind? Watch my magic!” She laughed like a fool, spread her arms wide and peered up at the blackness. “Kro-ackk Kah-tubb-see-cam-a. Kra-rackke See-tomma-see-tow!”
Kfir cried out, “What have you done?! Only the offspring of the Cherubs can call out to their fathers in that tongue. Who has revealed to you the secrets of Lagandow?!”
If Kfir could have seen the total shock on Alba’s face, he would have known she had no idea what she had said. She cried back down to him, “They…they just popped into my head! No one told them to me!”
Lifting her face to the sky, Alba called out more strange words. “Suu-Conatee-Kofinnu Connatea-Konifee-Konifee-Konifee Trib-Sonna!”
A sudden, powerful gust of wind picked Alba up and pitched her down into the crater. With the roaring of a cyclone, the wind rose up and spread across the sky. As Alba and Kfir watched, spellbound, a jagged rift opened in the darkness high above the ice and began to spread north to south, revealing a shimmering-white, harvest-like moon. The entire plain lit up in brilliant twilight. In the meantime, the angry foreboding clouds sank low over the Silk, shrouding it in blackness.
The enemy army could be seen spread out across the wide fields of broken ice, plodding ever closer. The greatly reduced numbers of gun trucks were giving way, unable to hold against the tide of the massive onslaught.
Dumbfounded, Kfir blurted out, “They’re sittin’ ducks! Damn! They’re just plain sittin’ ducks!”
That must have been the collective mindset of most of the defenders. Without receiving orders, almost instantaneously thousands of cannons, missiles, and automatic guns opened up along the sixty-mile ridge of hills.
Aerial troop carriers and gunships flying low suddenly appeared like dark silhouettes against the bright sky. Antiaircraft cannons began to add their music to the chorus and drumbeat of war. Moments later, friendly gunships that had been standing at the ready across the river were blasting out of the darkness, guns ablaze.
Alba poked her head out of the crater and looked around in wonder, shouting, “The whole world’s on fire! Hell has come to us!” She then waved her fist, laughing and shouting, “Give it to ‘em! Give ‘em hell! Make ‘em burn! Make ‘em burn!”
Kfir pulled her back down and attempted to calm her. “Captain! Captain! They’re not stopped yet…and don’t count ‘em out! There’s too many of ‘em. Our fireworks will beat ‘em up, but you and me have to stop ‘em. They’re comin’…count on it. They’re comin’...”
