NUKE.ZERO Chapter 2
Lee High school, Five Minutes After Impact
When the call came to assemble at Lee High School, ‘Staff Sergeant’ Michael Willison was already on the grounds. His father had woken him up when the news that the Vers princess had been assassinated broke, and the announcement that the Orbital Knights were dropping followed soon after.
With that knowledge, it wasn’t hard to anticipate the call-up. He had his father drop him off at the school, and waited on the front steps for the Militia Brigade that consisted of the student body to be called up.
Lee High School’s Militia Brigade was in a rather unique position. The children of a prominent Senator attended the school, so his patronage assured that the school’s Militia formation was nearly as well equiped as many regular Army formations.
For most of the students, that meant powered armor. As opposed to the Manned Humanoid Weapons widely used by most of the rest of the Earth Alliance, such as the KG-6 Sleipnir or the KG-7 Areion, the United States predominantly used a variety of Armored Combat Suits.
However, what the school’s supply boon meant for Michael was tanks. Michael was the commander of a M8A2 ‘Regan’ Main Battle Tank. Named for the first president to recognize and confront the threat of the Vers Empire, the Reagan clocked in at over 165 tons of devastatingly powerful weapons and armor.
The Reagan MBT looked vaguely like an upsized version of the old M1 Abrams, with several key differences. Firstly, it mounted a 175mm main gun to the 120mm of the pre-Vers Abrams. The Reagan carried enough armor to shrug off a hit from the 75mm gun used by the Sleipnir from all facings, and had a frontal glacis thick enough to resist considerably more powerful impacts.
The tank also had four 20mm autocannons mounted on corners of the vehicle, and eight beehive flechette launchers that made it a deadly proposition for unarmored infantry in the open, as well as serving as a defensive measure against RPGs and enemy sabot rounds. A rapid autoloader serviced the main gun, allowing for rapid firing. However, the loader position was occupied by a Secondary Weapons Operator, who controlled the secondary weapons, serviced the tank, and could replace one of the other crewmembers in combat.
The powerful and surprisingly efficient engine of the tank could propel it to high speeds on or off road, and was rated to allow the tank to carry up to 15 tons of extra gear, weapons, fuel or armor, or the tank could go light for extra speed.
Michael just hoped that it would mean shit against the Martians.
Michael himself was a tall young man, which occasionally gave him some trouble in the interior of his battle tank. He had bright green eyes, black hair, pale skin, and sharp features. In total, he looked every bit the part of a young commander.
As he finished his mental review of his tank’s capabilities, Michael opened his eyes to see Edward Rivers, his gunner, approaching him.
Edward was a boy of medium height, with chocolate brown eyes and soft features used to laughter. He stood, even on the eve of war, in a relaxed pose as he calmly greeted his friend and commander.
“Hey man. Pretty crazy what’s going on, huh?”
“Yes.” Michael said. “But we’re on duty, or soon going to be.”
“Ok, Commander.” Edward replied. “Part of me thinks this whole thing is going to blow over. I mean, interplanetary war? Really?”
“They hit New Orleans five minutes ago.” Michael muttered. “That’s one point three million people, probably all dead. That means war.”
“Shit, really?” Edward said.
Michael nodded.
“Man. They really are going to call us up. Where else did we get hit?”
“Old Chicago and Montreal have apparently gone off the net.” Michael said, his voice low. “That probably means they were hit. And observers in the rocky mountains report another Planetfall near there, but I don’t know where.”
“That’s four.” Edward said, incredulous. “Four. In this country. Do they know how badly we got knocked around during the Heavens Fall?”
“They had to fall somewhere. It may be that they are trying to seize the weaker nations first, to establish a base of operations.”
“Well, that’s depressing.” Edward said, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“Not necessarily.” Michael said. “It could mean they’re scared of us.”
“Well then,” a female voice said, “we’ll just have to show then they’re right to fear us.”
Both boys turned around. The speaker was Caroline, the driver and sole female member of Michael's tank crew. She was a short girl, and thus fit easily into the somewhat cramped driver’s seat of the Reagan MBT. Her tanned skin was at odds with her role as a tanker, and her features exuded confidence.
“I wouldn’t so much call it fear.” Michael said, speaking slowly. “Would you fear a few bees?”
“Well yeah.” Caroline said. Edward nodded as she spoke. “They could hurt you.”
“You would be afraid because they could hurt you, but not that they could kill you.” Michael explained softly. “I think that’s how the Vers Orbital Knights regard us. They don’t see us as an existential threat, not like they are to us.”
“Why not?” Edward said. “There can’t be more than a few hundred thousand of them in each landing castle. We have millions of soldiers in his country alone, not to mention tens of thousands of tanks and Cataphracts.”
“But what good would a million Roman legionaries, well trained and equipped soldiers of their day, do against fifty thousand of our best armored infantrymen?” Michael whispered.
Edward and Caroline paled. “You really think it’s that bad?”
“I don’t know.” Michael said. “And that’s part of the problem.”
“Hey guys!”
All three turned toward the new speaker. It was Jason Iwasaki, the Secondary Weapons Operator and final member of the tank crew. He was short, though taller than Caroline, and had dark manila skin, deep brown eyes, and jet-black hair.
“What is it?” Michael asked.
“We just nuked New Orleans.” Jason said excitedly. “One landing castle bites the dust!”
“Hell the fuck yeah!” Edward shouted. “That’s what you get for messing with America, you Red bastards!”
“Yeah!” Caroline said. “One down, thirty-six to go.”
“Is this confirmed?” Michael asked.
“Yeah, its coming in from hundreds of sources, and more every second.” Jason said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to read. “Just saw another huge flash from the west and felt the ground shake. If that was nukes, I’m probably fucked.”
“Hardly the most reliable.” Michael said. “How do we know another castle didn’t just come down on New Orleans?”
Jason’s phone beeped.
“The government is issuing a radiation warning for all of Louisiana and Mississippi.” Jason said, not looking up from his phone. “More details will follow.”
Michael smiled. “That’s the best news I’ve gotten all day. This means our weapons work on them.”
“You thought they wouldn’t?” Jason asked.
“You just missed it.” Caroline said. “He was going all doom and gloom over here, saying we were going to get killed like cavemen facing our tank.”
“I didn’t say-”
“Whatever.” Caroline said, in a tone that allowed no discussion.
A bus pulled up in front of the school and began to disgorge students in their Military PT uniforms.
“Looks like the rest of the brigade is showing up.” Michael said. “We need to find the lieutenant.
NUKE.ZERO
Frederick, for the second time that night, climbed off the school bus. This time, he and the other students were unloading at the Fort Armstrong, the location where much of the 597th Militia Brigade’s equipment was stored.
Fredrick, like many of his classmates, was classified as an armored infantrymen. After considerable preparation in elementary and middle school, he was required to attend basic training the summer before freshman year. After that, he was considered a full member of the United States Army Militia.
From there, his experience became less typical. Because one off his classmates happened to be the son of a senator, Lee High School and the 597th Brigade had a surplus of Armored Combat Suits. Specifically, more than three thousand MS-10 General Infantry fighting suits.
As he walked toward the armory where his suit was stored, Frederick looked around, trying to spot any of his friends or squadmates. He didn’t see any.
Frederick entered the armory, which was laid out like the entrance to a pool, with a desk in front processing in the entering student soldiers, and a opening in the wall on either side, one for boys and one for girls.
Walking in the boys entrance, Frederick reflected on how lucky the students who had been chosen to be tankers were. They didn’t have to strip in front of their classmates.
As Frederick found the locker where his fighting suit was stored, he began to take off his shirt. He striped drown to his undergarments, then removed this undersuit from his locker. He took off his underwear and slipped unto the one-piece undersuit. It gripped his body like a glove, and was dotted with electrodes designed to help his body interface with his suit.
Frederick grimaced. It also helped with some rather embarrassing secondary functions of the Armored Combat Suit.
With his undersuit on, Frederick began putting on his fidgeting suit, starting from the bottom up, as his instructors had stressed. As he slid into his armored boots, Frederick considered the abilities of the suit he was putting on.
The MS-10 General Infantry fighting suit was, as the name implied, a standard Infantry fighting suit of the U.S. Army. Given the severe damage the U.S. had suffered during the Heavens Fall, it was not economically able to widely deploy Cataphracts like other nations. Instead, ACS infantry was used.
As Frederick put on his greves, he tapped the armored exterior of his suit. The MS-10 could stand up to most small arms fire with little to no damage, and greatly increased a soldier's chances of surviving an Artillery assault or other explosion. Beneath the armored exterior was a layer of ballistic fabric to prevent spalling, then a layer of synthetic muscles and servomotors which made the heavy suit seem to weigh no more than a summer t-shirt. They also boosted the wearer’s strength, allowing them to carry heavier weapons and more ammunition.
Frederick frowned as he fastened his pelvic section and codpiece in place. Some said that the United State’s Armored Combat Suits were not entirely human in origin. It was claimed that some Martian technology had gone into their development.
Frederick’s frown deepened, then reached into his locker, grabbed the back half of his breastplate, and heaved it out. It was possible that there was some Martian tech in his country’s ACS suits. In the 1980s, President Reagan adopted a harsher stance toward the Martians hoarding ancient technology, demanding more in exchange for use of space assets.
It was rumored that he had been given, or the CIA had stolen, some fragments of Aldnoah tech. Nothing had ever been confirmed, but if it was true, it would explain a lot about the incredible resilience of the MS-10 and other ACS fighting suits.
Frederick shrugged, something surprisingly difficult to do while wearing fully articulated powered armor, and began putting on his arm pieces. If there was alien tech in his suit, all the better. It would let him kill Martians that much easier.
Once he was fully suited up, Frederick grabbed his helmet out of his locker and began walking out of the armory to find his squad.
He passed out of the armory and into the moonlight. Student soldiers, all in full armor, were milling around, most holding their helmets under their arms. Behind them were a line of train cars, of the type used to transport armored soldiers, waiting to load the massing students of the 597th.
“Hey, Corporal!”
Frederick turned around. It was Sergeant Alica, his squad leader. She was standing which her hands on her hips, looking at him crosswise.
“What is it, Sarge?” Frederick asked.
“I’ve been looking all over for you people!” She said. “Do you think this is all a game? The Martians are invading, and its my responsibility if you go missing.”
“I was getting changed, Alica.” Frederick said.
“Fine.” The Sergeant said. “Where’s the rest of your fireteam?”
“Changing.” Frederick said. “I assume. They only started being my responsibility when we got here, and it’s a mess.”
Alica rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll send out a pulse.”
The squad leader raised her wrist and pressed two keys on her wrist computer. “That should call them here. So what’s going on, anyway?”
“You don’t know?” Frederick said, surprised. “Its all over the news.”
“I haven’t been paying attention to the news.” Alica said. “I just got the order to come here, and I showed up. I know the Orbital Knights are attacking, and that the Vers Princess got assassinated.”
“Well, the Knights crushed four cities, and now they’re invading.” Frederick said bluntly. “That’s four cities here in the states. Apparently its like nineteen worldwide. I’ve heard that we nuked them in New Orleans, but if that’s true, I don’t know why we didn’t do that everywhere.”
“Four Landing Castles, huh.” Alica said. “Which cities did they get?”
“Montreal, Old Chicago, and a little town somewhere near Denver.” Frederick explained. “Plus New Orleans, but I already told you that.”
“I wonder where we’re going to get sent.” Alica said, placing an armored finger on her chin, looking rather comical as she did so.
“Montreal or Chicago, probably.” Frederick guessed. “The rail lines run right up the Appalachian Mountains, and from there they could take us across the lakes to Chicago or north, to Montreal.”
Lee High School, and the attending Fort Armstrong, were located in the Virginia Administrative Area, part of the effort to recolonize the Eastern Seaboard, which had been largely depopulated following the Heavens Fall. The strike from the rock the reduced New York to the Gulf of New York had cast ash across the area, and the meteorite strike that gutted Baltimore killed many across northern Virginia. Smaller rocks rained down across the area, causing widespread devastation, and many people fled for the interior of the country, where the rain of Moon fragments was less intense.
The East Coast got off better than the West. A massive chunk of moon moving a high velocity struck San Francisco nearly dead-on, reducing a massive area to ocean and killing everything for miles. Several smaller hits occurred, and when the dust settled, few were left alive on the West Coast.
“I find it kinda funny that, in an age of spaceflight, we’re still moving troops by train.” Alica said, looking at the waiting train cars.
“If it works, don’t mess with it, I suppose.”
Alica nodded.
“There you are!”
Frederick and Alica turned. Approaching were the three remaining members of Frederick’s Fire Team. Chris, Jared, and Jefferson.
“You called?” Jefferson said. The tall-square faced soldier had blonde hair and brown eyes, and his armor sported several kits benefiting his role as team engineer.
“There you are.” Alicia said. “Do you know how long we've been waiting for you guys?”
“Yeah, well, the locker room was crowded.” Jared muttered. He was a boy of Asian extraction, though he would never be more specific than ‘Asia’. He was on the shorter side, but made up for it with ferocity in a fight. “I hear we’re about to load up.”
“Yeah, by the way, did you hear that the commander was visiting family in Old Chicago when the Drop Castles came down?” Chris said. The shortest member of Frederick’s Fire Team, his backplate carried the longer maglocks needed to carry the battle rifle to full his duty as the squad marksman. “Squashed him flatter than a pancake.”
“Well that’s unfortunate, losing our commander on the eve of war like that.” Frederick said. “Wonder where they’re going to find someone to replace him?”
“I don’t know, they might have bigger problems.” Jared said. “That might keep us out of the war for the first few days, or at least keep us in Strategic Reserve.”
“Maybe.” Alica said. “But it looks like we’re loading up. We want to get a good spot on the train, so we can get some sleep on the way.”
“God knows we’ll need it.” Frederick murmured.
NUKE.ZERO
“What do you mean, sir?” Erwin asked, looking at the President with disbelief. “I’m a dead man. I’m sitting out this war, either in a cell or in a grave.”
“You might end this war in a grave, Kane,” Gabriel Winters said, his tone bordering on shouting, “but not without doing some good for this country first.”
“What are you talking about, sir?” Erwin said. “I’m a submariner, and no boat would take me after what I’ve done. I-”
“Not in the Navy, fool! What did you do before that?”
“I was in the Army, but-”
“Exactly! And what do we need now more than good ground commanders?”
“Miracles?” Erwin said dryly.
The President reached into his pocket. “Well, if that the case, then I expect you
to provide them, Colonel.” He said, producing the rank insignia of a full Colonel.
Erwin was a man of Military habit, so he was reaching out to shake the President’s hand before he realized what the man had said.
“What do you mean, Colonel?” Erwin asked. “I’m a Navy man. I have been for twenty years.”
“Not anymore, unless you’d like to be executed.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
The President signed. “Do I have to spell everything out for you, Kane? I’m making you a very special offer. I’m reinstating your Army Commission as a Colonel and giving you a Brigade command. If you take my offer, I’ll postpone your trial till the end of the war. With a fight like this, that’ll be a lot of time. You never know what might happen in that time.”
“You’re promoting me... giving me a new command... and postponing my trial... because I nuked one of our own cities?” Erwin said, almost stuttering. “You know, men have been accused of genocide for killing fewer people than I probably did.”
The President shrugged. “I think the investigation will find most of them were already dead,” he said, “besides, I’m giving you a command and postponing your trial because we need good commanders right now.
Erwin sighed. He had taken an oath to protect and defend the Constitution of his country, and that oath was more to him than just lip service. He needed to do what was best for his nation and species. He stepped forward, shook the President’s hand, and accepted the insignia. “If I may ask, sir, what kind of command is it?”
“You’ll love it. It’s an ACS brigade, with organic armor.”
ACS. That meant experienced troops, well trained and seasoned, perhaps with a few NCOs who had served in the First Interplanetary War fifteen years ago. The unit would likely run itself, requiring only his minimum of intervention to keep it in peak shape. It would-
“One other thing.” The President said. “Its a Militia detachment. The 597th Militia Brigade. Good unit, fully equipped.” He smirked. “For now, at least.”
The dream shattered. Militia units varied in quality, ranging from terrible to merely mediocre. From his ground fighting experience, Erwin would trust most of them to hold a fixed position, but little more than that, particularly in aggressive maneuver warfare.
One of the biggest problems with the Militia units was the officers. It was hard to find good officer willing to work with what were essentially armed High School students, and thus most Militia formations suffered from sub-par commissioned leadership at all levels.
Which explained why he was being put in one. It was a brilliant move. It allowed the President to say he was punishing the party responsible for launching the nuclear attack on the Vers, possibly even putting him in a position where he could say the party responsible for the attack had been executed, without the loss of an asset that execution or detention would entail.
"Yes... sir.” Erwin said. Any other surprises? He thought.
“You’ll be flying out to join your unit outside Pittsburgh.” The President said. “There’s a plane waiting for you outside to take you there. The flight should take a little over two hours.
“Yes, sir.” Erwin responded. “Is that all?”
“Everything you need for the job should be waiting for you on the plane. I’ve left you files on the officer’s and senior NCOs you’ll be working with.”
“Yes, sir.” Erwin repeated.
“What are you waiting for, Colonel?” Gabriel shouted. “Get to your unit!”
Erwin saluted his commander-in-chief, who returned the salute and stepped smartly to the side. Taking a deep breath, Erwin stepped forward, out of captivity and back into the cauldron of command.
Supreme America Home Theater Command, Anchorage, Alaska
The supreme commanders of the United States Army sat down around a long table in Anchorage Bunker Five, a complex hundreds of feet underground and capable of resisting a direct hit from most everything short of a Landing Castle
Field Marshal Lance Slate stood up from his seat at the head of the table and looked down at his map of the country. Three models of Landing Castles stood upon the icons of destroyed and occupied cities, with a fourth, toppled, model on New Orleans. Various models representing U.S. and Canadian forces rested across the board in confronting numbers, but few of them were where they needed to be.
Given the threat posed by the enemy Drop Castles, concentrating too many forces in one place was off the table, and strongly garrisoning a major city was a good way of losing the garrison force. As a result, Alliance forces were spread out through minor bases and the countryside in Brigade and Divisional strength, with Corps and Army-level forces only now beginning to solidify.
“Okay, Gentlemen.” Lance said. “We’ve got a tricky situation on our hands. What’s our status, Colonel?”
The Colonel in question nodded and pointed at the board. “We have four landing castles on the Continent, three on American soil and one in Canada. One of the Landing Castles was destroyed by an unauthorized Nuclear launch, leaving two in U.S. territory. Casualty totals from the impact and nuclear detonations are not yet complete, but are estimated to be over three million.”
Lance winced. He had expected it to be bad, but three million was more than one percent of the surviving U.S. population. Losing that many people in one blow could be disastrous. And that was without a shot being fired.
“Vers forces are currently in the process of unloading and forming up in the impact zones of their Drop Castles. We don’t have satellite images of them, of course, but the recon drone images we could get over their LZs indicate over a hundred thousand of them per castle, plus their Cataphracts.” The Colonel explained. “We expect them to begin their offensive soon.”
Lance looked down at the board again. “Alright, people, this is what we’re going to do. Joint Chiefs are diving the Continent up into three Theaters. Colorado theater will consist of the 1st U.S. Army Group. Newcago Theater will consist of the 2nd U.S. Army Group. Quebec Theater will consist of the U.S. Seventh Army and the Canadian First and Second Armies.” He looked at his Canadian Counterpart, Field Marshall Anik. “Is that acceptable?”
The Canadian Field Marshall Nodded.
“My staff will draw up the exact borders of each Theater's Responsibility, but it should be fairly intuitive for now. The U.S. Eighth and Ninth Armies will be held in strategic reserve, as will the Canadian Third Army.”
Lance looked around the room. There appeared to be no dissenters. “Marshal Arthur, you will take command of Colorado Theater.”
Marshal Arthur stood up, turned toward Lance and saluted. “I will do my utmost.” He said.
“Marshall Lin, you will take command of Newcago Theater.”
Marshal Lin stood up next to Arthur and saluted. “I stake my reputation on victory.” She said.
“Field Marshal Anik, I assume that you will take command of Quebec Theater?”
Anik nodded. The short Inuit man was a consummate warrior, and a veteran of the First Installer War. He knew exactly what the Martians were capable of, and would not underestimate them.
“Remember, everyone, it’s possible we won’t just be facing the leftovers of the forces we battled last time, but also forces fresh from Vers. Don’t let your guards down.” Lance said.
Pittsburg, U.S.A., 2nd Army Group Staging Area, Two Hours Later
As the long train pulled into the staging area rail yard and slowed to a halt, Michael Wilson holded off the extra-wide car carrying his Regan MBT and into the camp. The rest of his tank crew followed him.
“So, this is Pittsburgh.” Edward said. “I always wanted to see it.”
“Not like this, though.” Caroline said. “I never thought it would come to open war.”
“Me neither.” Jason said quietly. “Shows how much we know.”
“Never as much as we think.” Michael finished.
Edward shrugged and began to stretch. “Still nice to have a chance to get out of the tank, through.
“You know we might have to live in that thing in the near future, right?” Caroline said, looking at him longways.
“When would that happen?” Edward asked.
“Have you been paying attention at all?” Caroline said, almost shouting. “What if the Martians deploy poison gas and we have to button up? We outnumber the Vers pretty badly, so they might try anything necessary to even the odds.”
“Why would they want to do that?” Michael whispered. “When the odds are already so far in their favor?”
“Do be so negative.” Jason said. “We outnumber them. They can’t be that technologically superior to us; we killed their crown prince or whatever in the First War.”
“Even so, I’m still concerned.” Michael said.
“That’s only natural; we’re going into combat.” Edwards said. “Everyone is worried going into combat.”
“I’m not sure I’d want to work in a tank with a commander who wasn’t nervous.” Caroline shot in.
“Great.” Michael groaned.
“Its not like we have everything riding on you or anything.” Caroline added.
“Actually, we do.” Jason said.
Michael put his palm on his forehead. “Thanks, guys.”
The quartet stood in silence for a moment. Then Michael's communicator beeped. He picked it off his belt and looked at it. “Sounds like our new commander has arrived.”
“Great.” Edwards said.
“He’s going to address all Brigade personnel in a few minutes near the supply depot.” Michael continued, looking at his device.
“We should hurry.” Jason said. “Maybe we can get to meet him.”
The four members of the group nodded and began walking deeper into the staging area, their black tanker uniforms standing out against the urban camouflage of their comrade’s fighting suits.
597th Brigade Staging Area, Five Minutes Later
Erwin stood up on the small rise before the assembled troops of his Regiment. They were organized by Battalion, with most of them wearing their fighting suits. Weapons had been issued to the soldiers on the train, and many of the students soldiers were armed as well. They carried heavy battle rifles that would have been considered light machine guns in another age, and almost all of them had at least one rocket launcher mag-locked to their backs.
The air of nervousness and fear was heavy in the air. These were not hardened soldiers, accustomed to the prospect of death on the battlefield. They were scared students. Accordingly, Erwin decided not to tell them that most of the Cataphract Corps, which had been committed as an early reaction force against the Martians, had been largely wiped out. Erwin had never placed much stock in the manned humanoid weapons, given the superiority of the enemy’s Cataphracts, but the loss was still disheartening.
However, the loss of the Cataphracts was not in vain. America had never invested heavily in Cataphracts, and even as superior as the Martians were, it still took time to chew through that many men and machines, buying critical time to move conventional forces into place.
Erwin supposed that it was time to give an inspiring speech to his men, to steel them for the coming battle. He had never been good at speeches.
“Ladies and Gentlemen.” He began, speaking over the common communication circuits of the fighting suits and the communicators of the tank crews. Soldiers hurriedly adjusted their devices to catch his words.
“Today, we stand at the beginning of the greatest war our nation and species have ever known. Our foe is both numerous and strong, bolstered by lost technology. Already, many have died facing them.” He paused for a moment. “But they are not invincible. I have unleashed the greatest weapons mankind has created against this invader of our home planet, bloodying them and destroying one of their invasion forces.”
Erwin paused again to let that sink in. He had destroyed an enemy landing castle, and they could be beaten. Admittedly, none of the fractured reports coming in from the rest of the world said the same, but the point still stood.
“Over a hundred thousand Martians lie dead on the surface of our planet, and now our forces mobilize to face the remainder of them. Our Brigade is armed with greater weapons than many of those who have gone before us in this battle, and our foe is proven to be vulnerable.”
Erwin took a deep breath. “Even now, they threaten our civilians. Reports of Martian butchery are coming in from all corners of the map, and we must stop them, to give time for our civilians to evacuate. We will be deploying to Newcago Theater, where we will fall under the command of Marshal Lin. We will meet the foe in battle, and we will overcome them. For we have no other choice.”
There was silence for a moment, then the clapping began. It was a strange sound, soldiers in Armored Combat Suits clapping, but it was comforting.
“We will be re-boarding our transports soon to travel to the combat zone. Tac-lasers will embark on flatbed cars to provide protect to the entire convoy. We will establish our own tactical network as we travel, as the Martians are jamming the normal network. We can’t guarantee air cover, so stay on your toes. Get some sleep before we get there, but have three persons stay on watch in each car.”
Erwin disconnected his comm circuit, then muttered, “for how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods?”
First Wave Landing Castle Distribution
U.S.-3
Russia-2
China-2
Canada-1
India-1
Germany-1
France-1
Japan-1
Australia-1
Iran-1
Brazil-1
England-1
Mozambique-1
South Africa-1
Egypt-1
Total: 19