NationStates Jolt Archive


Sekiara Civil War ::The Eastern Trenches::

Sekiara
02-04-2005, 01:14
OOC: Ok, this is my first attempt at an rp here. If I go through with it then it will be more of a personal narrative of my country in a civil war rather than an open rp where everyone can jump in.

This first little tale is based six months into the civil war, I will post the build up to this time period and a continuation of the war at a later date.

This is all dependant on how well this goes down though, if its crap its crap, I abandon it for now and try again when I've developed a bit more. If its ok or (heaven forbid) good then I'll carry on with it and see where it goes. Any constructive criticism/comments are welcome, indeed encouraged. :)

Anywho here goes...

*** :IC: ***

The outskirts of Rayle, capitol city of Sekiara

This is insanity.

That thought had gone through the mind of the young soldier for the last few hours since he had heard of the planned assault on the capitol.

Pure unadulterated bloody insanity.

He had joined the Rebellion to fight for a cause he considered worthy, to be a part of the sweeping victories over the oppressive Consumerist regime. But a sweeping victory this was not. So far this war had dragged on for six months, six long blood soaked months. He had joined up pretty much at the outbreak of war and after a rushed five-month training course he had been shipped off to the frontlines, unfortunately for him his post would be at the siege of the capitol city of Rayle where the first real offensive would be launched in a bid to break up the trench deadlock.

Assault rifles, tanks, and jets. All these new weapons and for what? Another stalemate, another waste of life.

No one in either high command was sure how it had the war had come to being two opposing trench works across a 126 mile front in the eastern industrial sector of the nation whereas in the west it was a fluid war where miles were gained each day only to be lost the next week to a fresh counter offensive. But both knew the deadlock must be broken and a huge build up had started in this area, mainly around the capitol city where the highest moral and greatest foothold in the industrial east could be gained through victory. And today was the culmination of that.

Just throw us all like headless chickens into their crosshairs why not.

A dull thud was heard as far behind the trenches the howitzers opened fire with their first volley.

No.

The howitzers made five volleys, each explosive shell slamming into the trench works and fortified positions on the cities outskirts. Each burst churning the earth and taking lives. After the third volley from the main artillery, almost in unison the Rebel forces armoured columns crossed the trenches using specially placed bridges, and six yards behind the trench line the hidden mortar positions opened up in an accurate barrage that would continue till the rebels were right on top of the defenders.

Not yet, I’m not ready.

The young soldier looked over to his CO who was five bodies down the trench to him. He stared in fear as the man grasped the radio near his top pocket and placed it by his ear. He then stood in full view of the platoon of 70 men and barked the order to ready themselves. At his word the platoon formed two lines within the trench and the front line prepared itself for the rush up the ladders.

‘Fix Bayonets’ and the 70 men of the platoon did so.

A bayonet charge, in this day and age, its just insane.

The young soldier, scared witless by the events could only watch the man in front of him and listen above thuds of mortar fire for his officers order.

Be brave, be strong.

Then it came.

Bugles sounded up and down the line to announce that the real battle was started; all the officers then screamed the order to advance. The armoured divisions had already taken up position half way between the two trenches and were firing their rounds at clear targets. In total 600 vehicles of varying classification and 450,000 men were thrown into this assault, by the end of that day less than half those men would still be alive.

They rushed up the ladders and into the ominously named no mans land and began the charge. So far the mortar fire and armour were keeping the enemies heads down, but several machine gun nests still racked the line with bullets killing scores.

The young soldier ascended the ladder and saw that the line that was in front of him had now advanced a significant amount.

‘MOVE!’ A sergeant cried. And so, following the example the young soldier charged headlong across no mans land, bodies were strewn across the field despite the fact that the enemy had not yet begun the fight. The young soldier ran onwards, jumping the corpses, praying every second a stray bullet wouldn’t catch him. It seemed like an eternity but he was almost at the first waypoint, the line where the armour had formed up and begun its close range barrage.

Oh thank god.

Just as he approached it and saw the first line of his platoon laying in the mud ready fro the order to advance the armour once again moved on ahead to ram through the barricades that had been erected by the defenders. He jumped onto the cold hard ground forming once again in the second line of his platoon.

‘On my order, the second line is to stand and fire three short bursts at the enemy!’ came the order from the CO of the platoon, an order that was no doubt being echoed all along the advancing front. ‘Once the third burst is fired the front line is to stand and advance to the first line of trenches with the second line coming in close behind in support, once there you mutts finally earn your wage. You start killing the bastards.’

At that moment the armour nearest the platoon, a Challenger 2 type main battle tank, erupted in a ball of flames, the young soldier looked up to see that the enemies’ armour had now joined the fight.

Christ, we’re advancing into a tank battle.

‘Ready! Second rank! STAND AND OPEN FIRE!’ The young soldier hesitated for a moment but composed and dragged himself up with his comrades; he raised the assault rifle to his shoulder. He was surprised by how close they actually were to the trench works now; he picked his first target and fired the first burst with the rest of the line. He didn’t know whether it hit and he didn’t much care, his mind was elsewhere, he only wished his body was elsewhere with it. The second burst came and went, as did the third. The first line of troops then all stood and ran at full pace straight at the trenches, some men yelling as they went.

The brief moment between that last press of the trigger and the screaming charge of the front rank gave the young soldier precious little time to analyse the situation, he could see that the trenches had been decimated by the barrages, but a large number of men still stood. He could see that the tank battle going on in the direct path of the assault was still raging and a number of friendly and enemy armoured units already stood blackened and useless for anything but cover. Then the second line roared and began the charge.

God save us.

He ran. His heart was pounding and each breath felt heavy and leaden, the second line wasn’t all that far behind the first, but the first had already broken up and the sounds of the rifles firing as the first line closed in was easy to hear. The young soldier whimpered to himself as a bullet struck the man to his right.

This isn’t what I wanted.

The first line disappeared into the trenches, the holes in the earth that no flared with point blank fire and echoed the screams of dieing men who had fallen to hot lead and cold steal alike. From the outside, the way the shadows played in the slight smoke and lights flashed it seemed a veritable mouth of hell, and he was charging straight at it.

Within moments he was among them, he had blinked and suddenly the edge of the pits of death were in front of him, he was pushed in more than he had jumped, but he was there now. The smell was overpowering, the sights, the sounds, all made him want to wretch. But he looked to his left to see fellow rebels running down the length of the trench to where the screams were new and the blood fresh. He ran after them.

He reached where the fighting was strongest to find chaos, his friends were fixed in with his enemies to form a swirling melee where steel punctured skin and bullets were fired so close that the impact ripped a hole an inch wide. Without thinking he charged at the first person he recognised as an enemy, his bayonet plunging deep into the gut. He turned and fired a short burst at a group of enemies who had formed a defensive ring in the corner of one of the wider areas of this section. One fell, and so the young soldier joined the assault on this small band of brave men, firing one more burst at close range. His bayonet found home once more as he crashed into the press of bodies, all around him men were dieing a thousand sordid deaths, but he now only cared about pressing on, about surviving.

The small band of enemies broker and began scrambling out of the trench, none made it as they were all savagely dragged back down. Shot, stabbed, beaten, crushed, choked… killed.

Then a cry came from over the trench wall those few had tried escaping over. The enemy in the second trench network had launched a counter offensive, and due to the killing none of the rebels in the trench had noticed till it was too late.

The young soldier looked up, and all he saw was the figure printed against the sky jumping into the trench. Then he felt it, the cool freezing touch as it tore the cloth of his jacket and the flesh of his chest. He wasn’t sure whether he had felt the lung puncture, but he knew he felt a sudden burst of pain inside. He knew he was struggling to breath. Another surge of pain slashed across his face and the young soldier fell to his knees clutching at the remains of his cheek with one hand, and holding his chest with the other. He curled up and began to cry.

A massive blow to the back of the head drove his skull into the dirt, another and another followed and the bone lost its war against the solid ground and shattered, the young soldier was in his own private hell as the Consumerist forces retook the trench.

No war is worth this.

His body broken, face and chest drenched in his own blood, unimaginable pain flaring from his semi crushed skull. The young soldier whimpered for his lost life, and eventually died a death full of pain and suffering, alone, nameless, like a hundred thousand others.

** * **

OOC: Thanks for reading, hope it was worth it :D
Jenrak
02-04-2005, 01:20
Ooc: Bam! Super Tag!