Running, running through and behind, up-and-over. Captain Jack set himself up upon the edge of the roof, peering and observing the Ruskan tank.
"This encounter will not take time," Jack began simultainously chugging out the pins from the five grenades he one-handed, and he tossed it down below.
It was plenty near to damage the side of the hull where the blast had impacted, the fragmentation grenades did not per se' pierce the hull, neither did it dent the hull. However, it was enough distraction for the sailor with the PIAT from nearby to charge.
A bullet!?
The PIAT's deadly bomb, and the Ruskan bullet.
Heading steadfast and accurately at complete opposite directions, at complete opposite targets.
The blinding boom!
And the body-dropping bullet.
Captain Jack hurried, as the Ruskan tank's rear was adamantly blown apart by the effective bomb; it's crew ran off, shooting covering fire while retreating outward to some alleys.
Running to the shot sailor, he inspected his bullet wound.
It hit his heart. And blood was pooling behind the man's back, soaking his dirtied-white sailing uniform with dark flesh blood.
"I am sorry." Jack with-held his accent, affirming his serious demeanor.
"Don't be, cap." Weakily said by the sailor. "Atleast I'm to be medaled to my grave. My Valor! M-my valor."
"Right, that is correct."
The other sailors ran up. Grimly looking upon their to-die comrade. "I would love to say to my family, 'that I love them.' And that is all."
"Alright now."
Enough blood had pumped out of the sailor's shot-through heart, and out of the two bullet holes to incapacitate, then, to their great disheartening-selves. His death.
Jack stood up, "Let us… Head back, please carry his body towards the Atago."
"Cap." They nodded.
( * )
Within the hour, the surprise Ruskan invasion had failed. An overwhelmingly stark defeat, with the thousand Ruskans and one tank having perished, with only one death upon the Germans.
Hierd's command to destroy the cave the Ruskans used to invade, had succeded on both ends of the long tunnel, seizing the supplies, arresting the commanders, and detaining the ones who surrendered.
The Ruskans had effectively lost the war in the South. Without being able to control the Western and Southern front to any effective means, their own capture was soon to come. And that was something the Lottidentians and Kerfelizians could not accept.
---
At 3:05 in the morning, when the Ruskans were fiercly yet failing to defend against the Germans, Hesians, and Lottidentians; a by-fleet consisting of five Kerfelizian ironclads, and one Lottidentian heavy cruiser.
The ironclads were relatively low-to-the water warships, meant for coastal bombardment only. They were turret-less and featured a ten cannon broadside. Mast-less, featuring one slim funnel at their direct middle.
Featuring two propellors, and using Lottidenty's most recent and most efficient engine, it was able to ride at a max speed of twenty knots. However, to match with the heavy cruiser, they were all rushing at a gentle sixteen knots.
The heavy cruiser, front and foremost. Was (behind the sunk battleships off Gresh) one of the Northern Alliance's best warships. Featuring a modest superstructure similar to the BSS Baden somewhat, while maintaining a sleek and smooth hull akin to the German Scharnhorst.
Twenty centimeter calibre twin-barreled main guns (four in total, two bow and aft). It did not fire as fast as the Scharnhorst, taking three minutes each to fire.
Two funnels at it's middle, slanted (like the German designs) without a back mast.
"The Germans and Betelions have no power in the North Sea." Smuggly, the Admiral upon the bridge had noted. "Their shore artillery may damage (to some extent) our ships, but not so much as to hinder us! To hell with the battle off Gresh! Here we win. A simple decisive one at that."
"Sir," an officer relayed; "there are trucks, German ones based on their hoisted flag, by that forest over that Betelionic land."
The admiral grabbed his binoculars; "scouts. But what are they to do? I propose we fire. Train the main guns."
"Yes. Sir."
Slowly, it's mechanical spinning turrets rotated within it's internal barbette at a slow five seconds per two degrees of rotation.
Deep within, inside the gun chamber, the sailors were hastily loading the blackpowder rounds, first the round itself. Which was made out of brass, then the propellant, a long burnable container with blackpowder contained within. Then finally the primer at the very end of the round.
Chugging it within the gun's dumb elevator, the round made it's way upwards the gun chamber and into the above-deck turret housing. Where four sailors were carefully putting the rounds into the internal barrel housing.
Closing it shut, priming the gun, and calling it safe to fire.
"Fire!"
A direct hit towards the German trucks, an earth-shattering explosion with the combined blackpowder and the fuel that was contained within the truck's fuel tanks.
"Hah!" Cried the Admiral, "so the Germans are now factually a force that can be destroyed! I'd near thought they were indestrutible monsters. But that's fiction! They're humans. Same as us! Remember that, officers! Remember that, men! We're fighting against humans… Humans who can die!"
The admiral knew the fear. That Germans could not be killed under any pretense. Even the army, who's been fighting the Germans for three days and four nights. Had those thoughts develop within their forces. A deadly malady, a misfortune… Morale's hard to reinforce when your enemy's as powerful as Germany.
The admiral exited the bridge, a sinister smile formed.
( * )
"Shit." Hierd found the reports he received from his detached Ridge-Brown Betelionic force rather troublesome. "Awoke me at three-thirty in the morning, and awoke me with hell upon my front door… Can the start of this day become any better?"
He gathered his officers, drowsy yet awoke with the realization and urgency of the report given.
Marisse, beside Hierd, read the report, analyzing the minute details of the fleet the report mentioned in the North Sea.
"We've nothing to defend ourselves with." Marrise said, "the shore where the capital's at is a no-go. We have no shore-based artillery for such ships. Can we try with heavy artillery?"
"That is our only choice. But if we don't get lucky with our shots, our whole line of artillery'd be destroyed by the second." Said an officer, sweating and distressed. "I suggest we pull back the Betelions there, as well as our own forces. We cannot fight this battle."
"That's right." Said Hierd. "We cannot fight this battle. However, we should understand why they're doing this. For a time, the forces we deployed yonder the North Sea, will be retreated. But the Ruskans… Seeing this, they'll make an attack," -looking upon the map- "maybe regain this section of their great wall. Wait…"
"Lord?"
Marrisse saw Hierd's face, a grin appeared.
"I see it now." Hierd stood, "an opportunity for a great attack!"
( * )
Mobilizing all of his troops towards the Ruskan capital, the trucks and tanks swiftly heading capital-ward. Kyrsh (the name of their capital), was entirely oblivious. With most of their forces prepared to leave Arsteli-ward.
Dirt, pavement, off-roading. From the powerful Tiger 1, to the defiantly strong Panthers, the M90 transport trucks, to the auto-cannon light infantry vehicles, the several artillery-bound vehicles, and a whole lot of light Panzer 1s.
"Make way! Make way!" The soldiers yelled at the Ruskan civilians. They didn't even care to fight the small groups of Ruskan light infantry men/auxillary forces.
And ever did those groups fire, the Germans merely dodged and evaded the fire. Only if it was truly nessesary, did Hierd's forces fire. Ruthless bombardments.
Hierd's forces, through the better part of thirty minutes to a whole hour, rushed within unoccupied cities, dashing out of shallow creeks and streams. When finally, they were at the capital's feet.
With the wind blowing Marisse's and Hierd's hair at a gentle refreshing pace. The city (even at this hour) was alive. The sun had still not risen, yet Kyrsch was in a truly unimaginable light of activity. Hierd couldn't help but feel the least bad for what he was to do.
"What are the engagements of war?" Hierd questioned, looking still at the city.
"For this scenario?"
"Yes. For this scenario."
"As no power ever could truly rival Germany during the time of it's inception, the law accepts this. But the law hadn't thought of this future. An acceptable oversight."
"Good." Hierd scratched his cheek, Hierd left for his camp. A listless face.
---
"There it is, sir."
"What a bleak city," The admiral noted, putting his hand upon the cup of coffee and drinking it in one fell swoop. "We're to save this city? Truly devastating."
At the midst of 2:00 in the morning (just two hours ago) the Ruskan people of Kyrsch were urgently being evacuated via the empty and re-purposed galleons that lined the dock of Kyrsch's North-sea-ward port.
The children were being awakened by their mothers, their fathers were packing up their things. And when the incessant chatter, bicker, the announcements outside; the yelling Ruskans, did not awake them. Then the fear of the Germans and of death would.
As Kyrsch had a population of four-thousand people, it was not th easiest to sort the people while fitting them onto the measly ten galleons they had.
Ultiamately, the noble men came first, the middle man second, and the poor stayed. There was not enough space for them.
"Have the scouts come back?" Called the admiral.
"No, sir."
"That's quite odd…" He put with due distress. "I've beckoned them come at the nearest ten minutes, I'd accept a five minute delay, but it's been twenty-one minutes of pure agony waiting." Sitting upon the captain quarters of the heavy cruiser, a thought came upon his mind. The Germans! It should be the Germans. And that's why the scouts have yet to come back!
"This is only an escort mission," he says swiftly, as if someone was going to stop him from uttering them. "And yet! What if the Germans misconstrue it? What if they think we're a landing force!? What if they… What if they do the worst possible doing of man-kind?
"Massacres are something the Germans are known for. It is passable in internal law, as it is seen as collateral. But, at this scale, with their weaponry… It will obliterate the city's whole four-thousand, as well as the nobles! As well as the point of this whole charade! We'd lose the chance to have succeeded!"
"Sir?" Nervously said by his quartermaster. "What do you propose to do?"
"I propose-" he stood up urgently, then rushing to the bridge (his quartermaster followed closely behind him). "I propose! I propose! I propose!" -he cries in quick succession- "I propose we fire!"
"Sir?!"
"Yes!" He opened the bridge, his bridge officers startled awake. "Yes! We fire!"
"Sir!?" His bridge officers blurted and cried out in unison.
"Sail at full speed out of the shore! Raise the anchors! Prepare the turrets to fire to me ladie's (the ship's) left! As we pull out of the shore; raise the rudder so sharp that we rush the port-side! Now! Now!" To speeden the process, he orders his awoke sailors to ring bells all around the ships in within the ship's bellows and engines.
From the docks, the people looked on confused what was happening. Were the Germans truly there? But, no matter what fact was true, commotion happened. 'The Germans are here! The Germans are here!' They started to yell, then the others started to yell, then everyone started to yell. The Germans! The Germans! The damned Germans are here!
All order had fallen by the second and the people, the commoners, were all rushing for the galleons. Pushing the people back, holding the others from reaching the ships; the people jumping, running, falling from the port just to try and swim towards the docked ships.
"Get outta here!" The noble men, with their plump bodies and creased, bloated hands; yelled!
"Fuck off, let me in! Fuck the class system! I don't wanna' die you selfish son of a bitches! I'd better be treated worser all my life in this ship, than die!"
Ten minutes had passed and the heavy cruiser had fully rotated, but not even five minutes after that; the Germans had shown themselves.
A salvo.
A deafening salvo.
Ninety-five tanks, ninety-five rounds of differing calibres and power. From the heavy tanks, light tanks, and the medium tanks. The whole field of darkness, the sky illuminating it little had now turned sun-bright, like the sun itself had descended and arose right out of the ground than far away from the east.
The castle.
The towers.
The walls that surrounded the city.
The farmland beyond it's perimeter.
At the better part of ten seconds. All had practically fragmented and disappeared.The city wall that stretched fourty leagues, just round the whole city. Was all battered and was already falling apart.
"Good damned!" The admiral yelled, cried a great deadly scream. "The balls! The cohones! The chocolate star ariolas! How dare these Germans! You!" -He stared at the radioman- "Yell at those Kerfelizian ironclads to start bombarding the forest!" -He broke his gaze at him and started for his officers- "Fire!"
"Aye!"
( * )
"Move the tank squad a kilometer west." Hierd ordered. "Move that detached tank squad of Panthers towards the city. Retreat the tanks that are being bombardment, and employ smoke all over the forest."
"Yes, lord!"
Hierd stood up, eyeing up the bombardment from the position of his atop a small hill that protruded a little out from the forest. "one click to the right (a click's a kilometer) and the whole twenty tanks I have shore-side will be gone. That heavy cruiser is fascinatingly powerful." He groaned, irritatingly sighing.
"That was an experience to write home about." Marisse smiled, re-experiencing the earthquake of a combined explosion of tanks. "I cannot believe what the receiving end may think, but just like the future that looks at the past, the present that we are in; we do not care as much as we should for those getting massacred."
Hierd look at Marisse with an oddly curious expression. "You're… Right," -he ranged the heavy cruiser- "but that's not a thought I can spare in my mind at the moment."
The heavy cruiser was doing awfully well. Too well. Hierd lost two Panther Is that were too near to the shore bombardment. He scored three hits with his Maus but the hull dented only a little.
"Retreat all forces," Hierd ordered upon the radio, then he put it down. Taking a breather. "The five ironclads and the heavy cruiser can't sink, and if I did the same collective barrage that wiped the front-half of Kyrsch, I'd lose many tanks and men from returning fire."
"Not unless I summon something using my power." He thought.
"You shouldn't." Marisse said.
"Huh?" Hierd looked at her, puzzled yet hiding the subtle rising fear within him. Had she figured out her power? What does she mean by; 'you shouldn't?'
"You shouldn't." Marisse sat opposite him, and eyed the map sprawled on the table. "The logical thing to do here is to send our tank and infantry men towards the gate and siege the capital. Creating a mess inside. But I don't think that's a right and mighty choice."
Hierd sighed in relief.
"What do you propose instead?"
"Let them leave," Marisse put her pointing finger onto the docks, "obviously they're retreating the mass of their population somewhere safe. Probably Laplace. It's far away and we're not fighting them at the moment in spite of them being part of the NA.
"They're also taking on the king with them. And while that's a sad misfortune that we can't kill their leader today, it's great that they leave and we can seize the capital."
"Right," Hierd said. "They cannot do anything else other than that. However, what irks me here is that the North Sea is completely controlled by the NA. Unless I get the Yamato, or even the K-3 sloops in the Northern Sea, we cannot do anything in this region.
"And thus. We cannot completely destroy Ruska until then."
Marisse smiled. "It's awful lucky that the HQ has just cooked up something big."
"What?" Hierd eyed her, "I'd not heard anything about that."
"I mayyy have seized your radio just for a bit to listen in." She said, flustered.
"Then tell me of the report."
"There's an invasion plan to capture the Kerfelizian cities that face the Gale Sea. Once that happens, our army can more easily crush the forces, and seize their factories at one fell swoop. Like a watergate being opened, the gate being the invasion-force, and the water that gushes in being the army."
Hierd's eyes lit up. "Aha! And if the invasion force were to succeed, I'll have a silent-bunch of ships ride onward North, pass the Lottidenty, and enter the North Sea." But then he frowned, seeing the flaw; "but that takes atleast six-ten days."
"That's enough sacrifice."
"Call the Naval Admirals." He said to his officers.
( * )
Kyrsch was gone.
A pile of rubble, not even decent enough to be the dwelling of a dog. The once proud standing castle was shattered and broken apart.
It was now six in the morning. The sun had apparantly arose, but the overcast sky and quickly trinkiling down rain made it hard to determine. The nobles, some commoners, looked back at Kyrsch.
The few fishermen who struggled their way into the ships thought about the memories they had. The game they scored. The North Sea was so familiar to them, they knew every spot where fish gathered most. Where the fat were, and were the fish were nursed.
And Kyrsch with it's castle stood as a landmark that at every end of their fishing; that they'd always find their way back no matter what.
But.
Looking back, it was as if all was lost. A memory distant and not without shape. The nobles expressed the same, but unlike the habit of the rough fisherman, they remised their memories upon the interiors of the walls. The coffee-houses, and dines. The balls and the scandalous drama that happens once a month between nobles.
As such was romance in the Ruskan lands.
"The Germans are unparalleled at what they succeed in." The admiral admitted. "They had gotten away before we could destroy them (even just a tiny ounce of destruction would have been great). But all we did was destroy land, oh truly regretful to be so powerless.
"The dull city turns now romantically destroyed. I wished to have had some wine there, but it seems that will not be happening."