The boat bobbed in the waves of the ocean, travelling on the morning tide. The whole area was lit up in a gentle orange hue as the sun swelled low on the horizon, and the smell of salt hung heavy in the air, adding to sound of the roaring ocean around the vessel. Sucking in a breath of the crisp ocean air, Victor looked around the vessel, noting the many nervous expressions upon his comrades faces. His brothers and sisters at arms. His platoon. He kept his expression passive, wondering just how many would see the day through. This would be the first battle for most of them, these recruits pulled from all corners of the Federation.
Sucking in a shallow breath once more, Victor turned his gaze back to the front, seeing the hundreds of other landing craft before and around his own. This was a massive landing army, meant to break the camel's back of Imperial might in the city of Pagua, and ultimately the country of Seirei. The force of soldiers landing numbered in the thousands. Perhaps the tens of thousands. Only command knew the full number Victor surmised.
Surveying the shadowed coastline, Victor could see the city in the distance, stark against the sun rising behind it, its buildings high, and above them many airships. And Victor was certain that there were far more of those ships than there was supposed to be. He counted them and sucked in a sharp breath. Eighteen airships. He twisted to look behind him and to the Federations sky fleet, counting six. They were outnumbered horribly in the air. His eyes drifted down to sea level though, and he looked at the massive number of naval vessels. There were at least a dozen First, Second and Third Rate Frigates, led by the largest, the Damascus which served as the Admirals command post. Then there were a few dozen Fourth and Sixth Rate Frigates and dozens of unrated ships, all used to transport the massive landing force arrayed in the ocean. And every single ship above a Sixth Rate had its portside cannons aimed at the city, ready to start the bombardment. The fleet was massive, but ultimately unable to hurt the sky fleet hovering above the city.
"Sergeant Hammond! Focus! Prepare for the landing" came a curt order, and Victor turned his gaze to look at his commanding officer, a young Lieutenant by the name of Luke Cyrus. Victor just stared at him, barely restraining himself from firing off a retort. The Lieutenant was an arrogant little shit who had family high up in the command chain so thought he was hot shit. His only saving grace was the fact he had fought side by side in two battles with Victor already, and as such Victor knew the young man could hold his own.
"Got it Sir, preparing for landing" Victor replied, all professionalism despite his urge to retort. He pushed his way to the front of the boat then, stepping over benches and his comrades as they rowed. He reached the front and turned, looking out over the faces of the thirty-one soldiers before him. He could see the nervous looks on their faces, and a few looked like they were about ready to give in to panic. There were so many different types of people among this platoon. Some came from the Kratsch Empire in the east. Others hailed from the middle countries and there were even some from the far north, the icy lands of constant winter. Their ages were vastly different as well, ranging from fresh young adults to those approaching retirement. These were people that had no business fighting in a war. He sucked in a breath and started to speak.
"Alright lads and ladies. We are approaching the beaches. Our landing point is the Northern flank of the city. We are aiming to push around the city outskirts with the seventy fourth and fifth regiments. We are to encircle the city and dig in. Once we land, form up and secure the landing for those coming behind us" Victor yelled out. He could hear similar words coming from the barges flanking his own as the officers in them gave their own speeches, and he smiled grimly as he turned back to look at the coast.
He had seen many a battle in his career, but this by far seemed the foolhardiest of all to him. Victor watched as the first boats reached the hundred-meter mark from the beaches and a handful of them disappeared in sprays of water as something erupted around them. Looking past them, Victor saw one of the cities bastions light up intermittently, even as the sound of cannon fire reached him like a clap of thunder. Again water erupted around the leading boats as gasps and muttered curses sounded out around him.
Victor just stared at the leading boats, as a half a dozen exploded in a shower of splintering wood and viscera, the screams of those aboard sounding out loud and stark over the roaring of the ocean. Victor swore as the whole situation coalesced in his mind. Turning around, he looked over the soldiers of his platoon once more.
"Soldiers! Row hard! Row fast! Put everything into it unless you want to eat cannon balls for breakfast!" Victor yelled out at the top of his lungs. The beat picked up and the boat surged forward as desperation seemed to work its way into the soldiers.
It was then that the booms in the rear sounded out and Victor looked up, seeing cannon bails streaking through the air. He cast his gaze to the ships to the rear and watched as a full broadside from the top deck of a First Rate Frigate was released, sending a salvo towards a city bastion. Victor turned sharply with its movement, watching it trail through the sky until the moment it crashed into the bastion, erupting into a series of explosions, cascading debris and bouncing cannonballs. Almost directly after that first shot came the return fire from the bastions batteries, its own salvos still being directed at the boats attempting to land.
"Row! Row! Not far now! Put your backs into it!" Victor yelled at the top of his lungs as he saw the enemy airships above the city start to move, turning their port sides to face the ships at sea. Then he saw flashes of light from them, as their own cannons lit up, the single decks unleashing a torrent of cannon fire towards the landing craft and ships at sea.
The ocean around the barges continued to blow up in massive cascades of water as cannon balls hit the water line and Victor felt his adrenaline rise, his heart feeling ready to burst. And so did his fear, pulsing through him, urging him to run from the danger, even as his sense told him he couldn't, surrounded by water as he was. This was it. This was war. Chaos and death.
Passing a floundering boat, cut in half by a cannon, Victor turned, seeing its entire midsection blasted away, a mass of splintered wood and red stains. He could hear the screams from inside, and could see a number of the survivors clinging to the debris, eyes white in fear. Feeling his heart sink, Victor turned his gaze away, gulping as he did his best to ignore them. Those at the rear would have to pick them up. He and his platoon needed to land. So as the boat surged forward, he looked to the beach ahead, and the first few boats that had landed, the soldiers bailing over the sides into the knee deep water.
Victor turned his attention to beyond the beach as the boat surged in, bouncing on the waves. He barely felt the waves, maintaining his balance with ease, rather instinctually. His sea legs were pretty good after decades of service in the military. Victors gaze locked on the myriad of defenses that had been placed along the beach, shallow trenches, and a few crude barricades made from sandbags and timber. And beyond that he could see the silhouettes of Imperials moving into positions. And then Victor felt the boat beneath him lurch and shudder as its keel dug into the sand beneath the water. He felt his chest tighten even as he sensed those around him dropping oars and standing up and bailing from the boat. Victor did the same, bailing over the side, splashing into the knee deep water, the soft sand giving way slightly under his feet, somewhat churned up by the passage of the previous soldiers.
Wincing as water filled his boots practically in an instant, Victor moved forward, his hands going to unsling his rifle even as a volley of gunfire sounded out before him. He looked forward, seeing Federation soldiers lined up in infantry squares, the blue and grey uniforms barely discernable in the morning gloom.
"Form up! Form up! Into a eight by four row, between the Sixth and fifteenth" came a sharp order, and Victor looked to the source seeing Lieutenant Cyrus up on the dry sand, ahead of the other soldiers. Victor smiled grimly. At least the kid was not a coward. Nor was Cyrus alone. It looked like another Lieutenant had met with him. No matter. Victor just strode forward, leaving the seawater behind, his sodden feet moving through the wet sand, his feet sinking only slightly. He formed up into a square with the rest of the platoon, muskets held in formation, then he just waited for orders even as more gunfire sounded out from the front, accompanied by screams and shouts.
Taking his place at the right forward corner of the platoon, Victor watched as the forward platoons parted way to allow his own to move forward, and Victor moved as intended, his platoon following suit, those months of formation training showing its merit.
"Fire and advance! Take the beach crest! Make ready" came more orders bellowed from Cyrus, and Victor bellowed them in response, passing the order down the line. He heard similar commands from the platoons flanking his, even as he marched forward, passing his rifle to his left hand, and in quick, practiced motions, pulled a charge from his pouch and bit into the top, tearing the paper. He spat the paper to the side, then flicked open the pan of his musket and poured a small amount of powder into it. Closing it, he then turned is musket vertical, muzzle pointing upwards, and poured the rest of the powder down the barrel, then stuffed the paper in, following it with a ball. A moment later, he pulled his ram rod from its sheath and pushed it down the barrel a half dozen times as he walked slowly forward. He looked ahead once more as his platoon arrived in position, and he saw the Imperials in their own position.
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The Imperials had chosen to use their fortifications atop the crest of the beach, and had taken up positions behind the myriad sandbags and obstacles, instead of presenting in a line formation. He could just see the tops of their silhouettes against the gloom, the sun rising behind them. He squinted, trying to see them better, even as orders came down the line. The roar of cannons firing at and from the bastion on the right drowned out all but the sharpest of commands, and even the sounds of more boats hitting the sand behind him.
"Forward, present arms!" Cyrus yelled out from the left side of the platoon, and Victor echoed him once more, even as he slid his ramrod back into its place, and lifted his musket to his shoulder, pulling the flint striker from half cock, to full cock. Flicking his gaze over the mechanism, he scowled as he saw some moisture on the striker, and used his right sleeve to quickly wipe it away. Damn sea water. Then his eyes moved back to the front just as the sun lifted high, revealing the full extent of the Imperial defenses, no longer hidden in the glare.
"Fire! Fire and advance!" Cyrus yelled and Victor repeated it, even as he adjusted his aim slightly higher, pointing at the sandbags at the beach crest, and then pulling the trigger.
As those to his left did the same, a wall of lead shot out, the dull boom sounding out and the air filling with smoke and the acrid smell of burning powder. Victor did not wait to see where his ball landed, and instead just stepped to his left one step and started the next reloading sequence, as the three ranks behind him passed on his right, and stepped in front of him, now leaving him at the rear of the formation.
Again, he heard the commands from Cyrus, and echoed them out in turn. Make ready. Present. Fire. And each time, the back three ranks passed to the right, and advanced forward, leaving the previous front rank to reload. By the time it was their turn to advance, they were already reloaded. It was a well trained method of attack, and Victor felt a burst of pride in his chest at the soldiers around him, disciplined and holding firm to their training, despite this being a first battle for most of them.
The feeling evaporated though as Victor found himself standing at the front once more, raising his musket to his shoulder at the command of Cyrus, even as his gaze locked on the suddenly much closer Imperial positions. Perhaps twenty meters from him. And it looked like nothing had suffered any damage. He could see no fallen Imperials, or even any live ones sticking heads or limbs out from behind the obstacles and barricades.
As the order to fire did not come, Victor just kept marching forward, now holding his musket to high port and he looked quickly left and right down the line, seeing the other platoons marching forward also. He supposed this was expected though. Contested landings were not really a thing. So the hundreds of soldiers around him moved forward, at a disciplined pace, and climbing the hill, feet slipping and sliding in the sand as they tried to take purchase.
Victor scrabbled up the side, huffing at the arduous climb somewhat, before he stuck his head up over the edge of the crest, his compatriots doing the same. And he nearly lost it as the crest of the sand hill exploded in gunfire.
Victor stared in horror as he saw Imperials lined up before him, fifteen meters or so away, a rank kneeling with another firing over their head. The air filled with bullets and smoke, the balls streaking through a shimmering magical red barrier and lighting up in red hot flame, streaking towards him and his comrades. There was an instant where Victor thought that this was the end of the line, right before the magically enhanced rounds slammed into a barrier in front of him. Hearing chanting behind him, he grit his teeth and crested the hill fully before him and advanced, locking eyes with the Imperials as they hurriedly reloaded, and he aimed his musket at the mass before him, sensing those around doing the same.
"Present arms! Fire" came a cry from Cyrus, having crested the hill on the other side, and Victor fired, watching the plume of smoke escape his barrel, even as he saw Imperials before him stagger or collapse as the lead slammed home. It seemed their casters had chosen offensive magic over defensive for the first confrontation. Victor looked down the line as he searched for their caster, even as his comrades advanced past him and fired their volleys under orders.
Seeing the distance between the Imperials and his comrades close rapidly, now on open terrain, Victor reached for his bayonet, his experience kicking in and almost on cue Cyrus bellowed out the command.
"Fix bayonets!"
Those around Victor did just that, and his gaze flicked to his comrades, sensing the trepidation as they fixed bayonets. Then his gaze moved forward, locking onto the Imperials. A number of them had fallen, but their discipline held, and they fired another massed volley, their bullets passing through the shimmering red barrier and lighting up into red hot shot. This time though, a number of rounds pierced the magical barrier protecting Victor and his comrades, and screams sounded out as the red hot rounds ripped through the ranks, passing through multiple people under the effect of enhancement magic. The protective barrier had weakened, and Victor felt his heart lurch. That was expected. Casters could only hold a barrier for so long over so many people.
"For the Federation! Charge! Take the field! Charge! Charge!" came the rallying cry of Cyrus, echoed down the line, and Victor let out a roar as he surged forward, holding his musket at his hip like a spear. The Imperials surged forward with a charge of their own, bayonets fixed, and right before the lines met Victor let out a howl, a cacophony from his heritage in the northern isles.
Victor watched the Imperial before him flinch at the sound as Victor lunged at him, running at him with bayonet aimed. The man did not even get a chance to defend himself as Victor ran him through, feeling his bayonet pierce cloth and flesh, its point coming out of the mans back, just below his ribcage. A shriek came from the man, followed by a gurgle even as he collapsed and slid off of Victors bayonet. Then there was another Imperial rushing him from behind the other. The man was intercepted though as comrades rushed past Victor, screaming out to mask their fear, the Imperial knocked one bayonet aside, only to be stabbed in the left side from the other. He collapsed as well, screaming in pain as others surged forward from both sides.
Victor locked eyes with another Imperial, who stabbed at one of Victors soldiers, only to be deflected. The man followed the stab with a rising strike from the butt of his rifle, smashing Victors comrade in the head with it. A middle aged woman, who collapsed without a sound. Victor let out a roar and moved forward, even as a flash of movement came from behind the Imperial, and Victor watched as a streak of blood splashed out from the mans neck, cascading over the ground and staining it red. A gurgle escaped him, and the Imperial lifted hands to his neck, trying to stem the flow of blood as moment later, Cyrus slid his saber into the mans belly, finishing the job.
Cyrus pulled his saber free with a flourish, and turned on another Imperial, parrying a bayonet thrust, and returning with a flick of his wrist, cutting downwards through the Imperial before him. Victor turned his gaze away from the display of swordplay just in time as a thrust came at his face. He sidestepped, lifting his musket to slap the strike away, before stepping in and kicking hard with his left foot. He caught the imperial in the stomach, and knocked him straight backwards, forcing him to trip over a corpse. Then Victor pounced and stabbed his bayonet down, into the Imperials throat.
A moment later, a cheer sounded out, and Victor lifted his gaze from his kill, heart pounding in his ears, the adrenaline running rampart through his system. He realized he was wheezing, and his arms and shoulders were shaking. He just watched as the Imperials fled, retreating across the field, and into the nearby buildings of the city outskirts. Trying to draw breath, and calm himself, Victor planted his rifle butt on the ground, and then just squatted down, sucking in air as he looked at a patch of bloodied dirt.
"Sergeant Hammond! Where is Lieutenant Cyrus?" Victor heard someone shouting at him and he lifted his gaze to see the company Captain, Captain Becker striding towards him. Victor just stood up and winced slightly. He was already sore. Patting himself down quickly with his left hand, he found nothing that hurt out of the ordinary as his gaze looked to Becker.
"Don't know Captain Sir. He was in front of me just before the Imps fled" he replied, looking around as more soldiers climbed up the beach embankment behind him. The area was quickly getting crowded and formations were starting to form up.
"Well, that’s shit but not unexpected" the Captain answered as he came to a halt before Victor.
"Count your lot, find Cyrus, and report down at the beach. The first platoons that arrived on the beach are rotating to reserves until we are set up. Good job on the assault" Becker stated and gave a salute before heading off down the line, looking for other officers.
Victor sighed in relief, and looked around, taking in the carnage. He saw a number of his platoon still standing, though some seemed to have distant gazes, with others where tending to wounded comrades. Victor looked over the corpses around him though, as Federation soldiers from fresh units passed by. Victor saw some of his platoon among the dead, with faces twisted in pain and fear, and he swallowed hard. It was not something he felt he would ever get used to. He just knelt over each one, and closed their eyes.
"Never get used to it do you Sergeant?" came the voice of Cyrus, somewhat somber and Victor looked up, seeing the Lieutenant, saber still in hand, albeit held loosely.
"Indeed sir. I am just surprised I have not joined them yet. You see the Captain?" Victor asked as he stood up once more. Cyrus just nodded and finally sheathed his saber.
"Yes. Tally the dead and wounded, then move down to the beach. We will be guarding the supply barges. The enemy Bastions are mostly targeting the fleet now" Cyrus stated and then pointed at the bastion further down the beach. Victor turned his gaze towards it, and saw the cannons on the walls firing at the ships at sea, the occasional cannon ball lighting up red hot as it passed through an enhancement barrier. From his position, Victor could see the bastion had no way to assault from the beach, as it jutted out into the ocean, built into a cliff, essentially cutting the beach in half. The only way into that was via the city.
"That sir, is going to be a bitch to take" Victor stated and Cyrus snorted.
"One thing at a time Sergeant. One thing at a time. Now get those tallies" Cyrus ordered, and Victor nodded, pushing himself onwards to do just that.
