Depends on where I am in the ritual tbh

Janaina Medeiros
Claire Keane
Game of Thrones Daily
One Nice Bug Per Day
Cosmic Funnies
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
dirt enthusiast
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
Mike Driver
NASA

Andulka
almost home
ojovivo

tannertan36
AnasAbdin
$LAYYYTER

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titsay
will byers stan first human second

seen from United States

seen from United States

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seen from United States
seen from Chile

seen from Türkiye
seen from Portugal

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Morocco
seen from Germany

seen from T1
seen from United States

seen from Peru

seen from Canada
@dieeisernekaiserinreich
Depends on where I am in the ritual tbh
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
The mercenary stoically puffed on her cigarette throughout the conversation. She offered nothing for or against — it was foolhardy, but there was nothing but foolhardy options going forward. At the end, she dropped her cigarette and stomped it out with her boot.
“Before buying my scorpion, my mates and I were infantry only. My troops are bonafide experts at street-fighting. My suggestion?” Helena gestured at her clothing under the webbing. They weren’t anything close to a military uniform. “We’ll already be shot fer being foreign nationals assisting a rebellion. Street clothes. Not guns blazing. Meet our cells and leaders and mayor and the fockin’ blue meanie before the battle starts. Faulky, yaouw may be a bloody Irishwoman, but we’ve got Yanks, Poles, Japanese and Krauts here. I trust yaouw the most, keep my Scorpion safe. That thing’s expensive.” Helena stopped for a moment, looking to each of her friends, and the brigadier as well.
“You are all my friends, but I get paid fer my work. I expect ter get that money once we’re done. We’ll do it.”
Though the answer was expected, tension visibly relieved in multiple shoulders around the table. Gena clapped the merc on the shoulder, grinning like mad. “Consider it wired as soon as I have a line to my funds. Glad to have you on board, Hase.” The Irishwoman tapped two fingers to her beret. “She’ll be safe as feckin’ ‘ouses with me, mate, not a worry.” Natalie looked almost... grumpy, but it was hard to determine if that was any different from the usual scowl the Pole sported. “Once more, we send our brightest star headfirst into the unknown. Though I am loathe to acknowledge it, Romele, you’re crucial for the morale in this outfit, up high and down low. If I hadn’t learned my lesson by now, I’d protest you going, so I’ll instead tell you to be fucking careful. Your plan consists of strolling into the snake’s nest, and we may fall apart if you don’t come back alive. No risks, you hear me?” That was, in the most backhanded way possible, touching, as far as preemptive reprimands go.
“Aww, Nat, see how much you care? Let it be known the Pole loves me as much as anyone else here.” “Still not sleeping with you.”
“Damn. So close!” Lin, fingers at her temples, sighs, and the Brigadier just shakes his head, clearly used to the banter. When the laughter settled, Lin redirected the lot.
“Ladies. Business. Let’s get plans in motion for the actual logistics of the operation.” And so the conversation went on, for quite a while. Longer than it needed to, of course, because of how many times the conversation sidetracked somewhere completely different.
In the end, though, it was settled which unit would set off with Gena’s command element and the mercenaries, times, places, and many of the minutiae that probably didn’t need to be discussed at the map table.
“That looks like everything. Any other questions or suggestions?” Gena, much more tired sounding than at the start of the meeting, didn’t actually wait for any other questions or suggestions.
“Great! It’s settled. Everyone’s dismissed, and if I remember correctly it’s Nat’s turn to host whatever card game you degenerates decide to play, as long as it’s not fucking Kalashnikov again.” The Pole crinkled her nose, muttering something about no one having good taste in card games.
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
Yet for some reason, throughout Natalie’s demanding, Clapham’s smirk never left, except to continue on her cigarette. “G’evening, Rynkiewicz,” she said during the tirade, not deterred by the dangerous visage in the slightest. Afterwards, she continued, “I’m doing quiet well. I can see you’re just fine.” The mercenary hadn’t moved at all, just finished her cigarette as the meeting set up in earnest, looking down at the map on the table.
“We’ve got a window of opportunity, I wager,” Clapham said. “Before they get the will ter truly focus on us. But I’m just a mercenary. I may have fought wars fer nearly a century now, but I don’t have experience commanding more than a squad. I cannot promise strategic expertise. Only tactical. I leave it up to yaouw all – and the Brigadier. He likely is the best of us all at such matters.”
The circle of officers nodded, and Gena took the lead again.
“Your tactical experience alone is leagues beyond what any single one of us has, Hase, and your presence here may just be the difference we need to make it to San Diego alive. We are making decent progress by the day, but as Clapham said we only have so long before they deduce our destination, if they haven’t already. If we don’t secure an inlet into the city to allow us a foothold, every single one of us is finished. If we have to lay siege to San Diego to take the city, we will be crushed between a hammer and anvil.” There were more nods around the table, though Faulkner’s brow furrowed.
“Ai see what yer sayin’, Gene, but how d’ye wager we go about makin’ that happen? We don’t have any way of gettin’ in faster than we’re goin’.” Gena smirked, gesturing to a specific point on the map.
“Yuma. Specifically, the Yuma freight train depot. While our main force continues to push west, I will take my crew and Hase’s detachment via freight train to San Diego, where we should come out in the southwest sector. From there we can link up with the local resistance cells, nearby separatist guard units, and finally send the word to the governor of California, who is sympathetic to the cause. Queen would remain in operation under my Zwitterkommandant in my absence.” Looking up with a self-satisfied grin, she read the faces of her fellows.
“It’s not a fully-fledged plan on the tail-end, but... I think it’s solid.” The next to speak up was Lin, tapping a finger against her lips.
“This is incredibly high-risk, but it may just be our only option. The only faster route to San Diego would be by plane or detached civilian vehicles, and those aren’t options. I suppose the final question goes to Miss Clapham.” Looking over to the mercenary in question, she asked the obvious.
“Will you do it?”
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
Clapham had to smirk at that. “Makes sense. What I know of Rynkiewicz points ter her keeping that attitude. Can somebody get a message ter my lads ter get the kettle going? It’s about time fer evening tea, I say. Faulkner, you want any?” Though the Sergeant York incident hadn’t been a good way to end the evening, altogether Helena Clapham felt her first day in the employ of her very young friends had been a good one altogether. She expelled the cigarette smoke slowly, letting her shoulders finally start to relax.
“Looking forward ter seeing the Pole again. Not sure why, but I am. It has been nice ter see all of yaouw again – didn’t expect ter. Life as Coco Hecmatyar the mercenary isn’t one fer making long-term friendships. But I should’ve expected some of yaouw ter eventually be one of my clients.”
“I just – didn’t expect it so fast, nnnaaa. But I’m glad somebody’s decided ter oppose the current regime.” They had not a chance in hell, Helena thought. But she was going to fight for that chance as hard as she could.
Marshal Faulkner nodded, still doubled over, giving the Brit a thumbs-up. Wordlessly, an aide rushed out of the tunnel, presumably to relay the message.
Of course, this was the moment when the Marshal Rynkiewicz arrived, three hours early looking the sharpest among them short of Madeleine. That Rogatywka cuts a dashing silhouette over her dress greys. Visibly fuming with an almost dangerous visage, she spoke, cutting the laughing quartet short with muffled ‘oh shit.’-s
“I am going to close my eyes, count to ten in my head, and I am going to forget what I heard as I walked in and see a group of four fellow marshals, a brigadier general, and a mercenary - hello, by the way, Clapham. Holding up well? - arrayed around the map table, plotting our next move like the professional paramilitary we claim to be. If I see anything short of that, I am going to shove this stick-” the Pole physically rattled her saber for emphasis - “so far up your asses you’re each going to have a taste. Am I clear, ‘friends?’” And to think that Natalie was actually the youngest officer here, at a mere twenty years old. As promised, she closed her eyes. Sighing and bringing themselves to, the rest of the staff officers got in position; Lin helped Madeleine to her feet, the French girl muttering curses as she brushed dirt off of her dress uniform, and they all eventually made it around the map table.
Precisely ten seconds later, Natalie’s eyes opened to find things more or less as she demanded. “Thank you. I trust we’ve already been plotting our plan of attack inbetween spats of gossiping like schoolgirls?” The disdain in Marshal Rynkiewicz’s voice was so thick one could spread it on toast, and she made her own way to the map table, removing her gloves. “We’ve pushed the enemy back with a minor counteroffensive that drove a wedge in their lines and broke some of the bridges behind us. They’ll still have the dam proper and the interstate, of course, but we should have a short bit of respite for our next operation.” Instinctively, they all looked to Gena, who was currently taking a swig from her hip flask.
“Right. The hour approacheth; we’re closing in on San Diego by the day.I would normally take this time to reintroduce everyone officially to Miss Helena Clapham, but seeing as everyone remembers her just fine I’ll skip the pleasantries and get straight to business.”
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
“It’s not much yaouw can do in a case like this,” Helena accepted. “It’s not like the old days. Everything’s automated now. Over the horizon technology, that sort of thing. Yaouw don’t see the enemy clearly anymore.” With a sigh, she lit her own cigarette while listening to the casualty counts, admitting to herself that she was far more concerned with her own troops than those of this rebellion – though she did have some concern. They might’ve been classmates from her second bout of secondary school. “Let’s try ter keep casualties down. Natalie? Does she know the mercenary hired was me?”
“Been a while since I last saw Rynkiewicz. Still got a stick up her arse about yaouw, Gena?”
They all nodded affirmative to the first, though the question caught Gena blindsided and had Léan and Madeleine wheezing with laughter. Lin, elbowing her fellow Marshals none too kindly, answered, eyes closed and face crinkled as though she just put something incredibly bitter in her mouth - it seemed she was on the cusp of laughing as well and was upset they were breaking her composure. “If, erm, Marshal Rynkiewicz didn’t have a stick up her ass about Gena’s very existence being an insult, we’d be concerned she’d been replaced with a spy.” The all-too candid response had Madeleine on the floor, reaching a hand up in a futile attempt to call for help. The Brigadier rolled his eyes, turning back to the map and shaking his head. Gena, sighing, clarified.
“Natalie’s still sore we kicked her ass even after she managed to pay off the judges back at regionals, and she also has a very different... perspective than the rest of us. Even in a revolution there’s people more radical than you are, I suppose.”
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
Helena dipped her head in acceptance, glad that it wasn’t just going to be their own force. “Then let’s leave planning fer when we’re closer.” She didn’t voice it – but she hadn’t had confidence in taking the city with what they had. Helena also listened quietly as Faulkner and Gena spoke, but she visibly winced at hearing they had shot down people on a mission of mercy.
“Let’s try not ter commit war crimes so easily, alright? The Red Cross needs ter be respected, no matter where or why. This sort of action would be grounds ter have all of us shot. But… well, y'all have already killed quite a few American soldiers and rebelled against the United States, it’s going ter be treason and firing squad no matter what.” She didn’t look too happy over the situation with the medivacs, but the mercenary accepted it grimly. “We’ve covered a lot of ground today, haven’t we? Any casualties? Any among my infantry?”
Faulkner ruffled a bit at the implication of war crimes, pulling out a cigarette and passing it to Lin to light. “Shoite, Clapham, ‘s not loike it was bleedin’ obvious it was a feckin’ medivac. Sergeant York ‘as a moind a’ his own sometoimes, an’ to be fair his crew did what dey were supposed to. He saw a feckin’ helo, locked on to it, an’ de lads pulled the trigger. De realization only came after wonderin’ what the hell some window-gun UH-1s were doin’ flyin’ into an active war zone. It took binos to see the red crosses. It’s... it’s just a load a’ shoite, ye ask me.” The Brigadier clearly had a different opinion, exhaling a pretty hefty plume of smoke.
Lin, head on track, exhaled her own puff of cigarette smoke and passed the tobacco back to Faulkner. “The fault is irrelevant; what’s done is done. We’re already dealing with it, and we can only hope for forgiveness if the worst comes to pass and it gets out. Our casualties today were significantly lower than usual; a good change for once. By my count, we’ve lost two half-tracks, a Chi-Nu Kai Ni, two Comets, and three T-34s in combat. Our last remaining reserve Tiger II broke down and had to be ditched alongside three M60s we couldn’t get patched up in time. Across all seven callsigns, a total of ninety-seven combat losses are observed, with fifty-three wounded and twenty deserters. None of the preceding are mercenaries; Ms. Clapham, your men are a-okay. As far as what we’ve gained, we’ve assimilated thirty-five new recruits from captured National guard ranks, a number that may increase with the new load of prisoners that should be arriving within the next hour.” Some good news, at least. Madeleine finally piped up as well, twirling an unlit cigar between her fingers.
“The rearguard has dug in firm, though the enemy hasn’t caught up yet to push. Natalie should be here within the hour for the strategy meeting.”
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
“Then it is in your best interest ter take San Diego as quickly as possible,” Helena declared. “And I suppose, as yaouw are my current employer, it’s in my best interest too hm~?” Her grin could almost be described as cheeky. “So long as yaouw can pay me and my men, you’ll have my help. Don’t worry about my being bought off by the enemy. Even if I get an irresistible offer, it won’t be accepted if it’s an opposing member of this conflict. Gena and company are just too cute ter shoot!”
Her finger now stabbed at the map as she went from almost joking to entirely serious in an instant. “Taking a city is no small venture. Do yaouw have a plan? Is there any other forces fer the coming fight than what we have here? Anything inside the city?”
Taking another huff of his pipe, John took a step back from the map table. “We’re a little ways off from anythin’ of that sort at the moment, but we do have some contacts with rebel cells in the city and splinter Guard cells in the state of California, but nothin’ firm has come up. We’re poolin’ together what resources we can to see what we have to work with. The clock’s tickin’ fast, I’m sure you know, but all we’ve got at the moment is boots on the ground and a dream. I’m sure the strategy meetin’ tonight’ll be a great place to talk that over.” Distinctly-accented conversation echoing from doing the hallway signaled the arrival of the three marshals who were already here, and Madeleine, Gena, and Helena stepped in with casual waves. The Brigadier waved back, shaking his head. “Afternoon, ladies. Was wonderin’ when you’d wrap up the little probing attack. Anythin’ salvageable?”
Faulkner waved a hand dismissively, and the other two marshals shook their heads. “Tought we moight’a ‘ad a Patton ‘er two we could’a whupped back into shape, but de blaggards ‘ave gotten woise ta our capturin’ deir tanks an’ dey’re blowin’ de feckin’ tings sky hoigh afore we can get a roight proper look at ‘em. Still, plenty’a spare parts fer de engies.” The Brigadier general took an irritated puff of his pipe, nodding. “Sounds about right. Finally realizin’ that every tank we only disable makes us stronger. Still, good work up there. No air contacts yet?” This time, Gena piped up.
“Nothing major, Brigadier, just a couple of UH-1s that swung around to try and rescue the tank crews. Sergeant York tore the fuckers to bits before we realized they were medivacs, so we have a team out there collecting prisoners and wounded.” John nodded again, sucking air through his teeth. At least it was being handled.
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
“I bought my Scorpion a few years ago fer the few times I lead a force. Most of the time my men are employed elsewhere. It’s rare for the full platoon ter come together fer a mission, like this one. So it’s a small mercenary group, but not a full PMC, or at least it doesn’t deserve such a moniker. Veterans each and every one.” Helena also moved to the map table, putting an elbow upon it and leaning over to put her chin atop her hand. From here she continued speaking.
“My intended selling point ter those who may hire me is as a scout or for small strike force missions. Hence why I didn’t get something bigger, and why my troops only operate with those boxes on wheels, ATGMs, and MANPADs. What I’m getting from yaouw is that I should avoid putting my troops under their direct command, unless I absolutely know what they’ll be used fer.”
Her eyes studied the map — they were a decent ways away from San Antonio now. “Tall order ter try ter take on the States fer a bunch of guardsmen. But as yaouw said, they’re not taking yaouw seriously. So I see one option open, and I think yaouw do too — capturing San Diego. Gets yaouw a major port, supplies, and possibly even capturing some navy ships. Am I correct with that assumption? Because if I am—then the few who are paying attention to us have also figured that out.”
John nodded along, taking another puff of his pipe. “Some of them are better with infantry than others. Gena and Madeleine at least understand from the top how to keep their men alive in the trenches. Your little crew is a damned sight for sore eyes no matter what you attach them to, so I’ll leave that to your jurisdiction. Now.” The Brigadier General tapped his pipe on the city of San Diego on the map, bending over the table and looking more closely.
“You’re right about San Diego. Only fuckin’ place on the continent we can get help from Mexico and across the ocean at the same time. Western seaboard means the help is gonna be whatever Lin can get from Japan and not much else, but anythin’ is better than this rollin’ ball of attrition we have. On top of that, we need somewhere we can put our backs to the wall and strike out, and I see no better option than the Pacific Ocean. We might be able to get California to separate and support us if we can take and hold a city, and that’s the only chance I see of us starting to snowball. We can get guns, tanks, and anythin’ else we need from our allies, but bodies in uniform can’t be imported in the numbers we need without causin’ an international incident.”
“The Frenchie says the enemy hasn’t caught on just yet. By their transmissions back to Washington they supposedly think we’re just runnin’ 'til we can’t run anymore. 'Tween you and me, though? I think they’re on to us. No way they wouldn’t know by fuckin’ now with how well we get around their forces we’re listenin’ in, and while I ain’t a bettin’ man ten dollars says they’re playin’ us like a damned fiddle.” He crinkled his nose, looking up as the gunfire outside calmed at last. “Looks like the attack’s been wiped out.”
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
Leave it to the French to flirt. Helena walked towards the mines with a shaking head, but a smile on her face.
“Good ter meet yaouw, Brigadier Harrison,” Helena said, her lilting Yorkshire accent unique compared to his mostly Texan subordinates. “I’m Helena Clapham. Yaouw may have heard of me under the pseudonym ‘Coco Hekmatyar.’” She took his hand, giving a strong squeeze that belied her physical size. “I repeated secondary school ter get a handle on new technology, going through it with Gena and the others. That’s how I know them, I went through the tank championships as part of a crew. It’s why Gena decided ter hire me instead of any other mercenary. Tactical geniuses they may be, but I can see some problems in the organisation.”
“I can also see why the Yanks want yaouw dead. The girls may have combat down pat, but there’s quite a bit of strategy and logistics involved that they simply aren’t experienced with, and will need if they want ter win this one. Not ter mention problems with forces working together. They can hold their own, and each do well ordering their troops about, but they don’t do so well trying ter fight with two or three units together. Yaouw function as the central authority required ter get a strategy ter actually work, and not be bogged down in arguments over who’s in command. That makes yaouw that much more important.”
The Brigadier simply nodded, going back to the map table. “The bastards think I’m the head of the snake, and I spend more time keeping my head down than I’d like to fuckin’ admit because of it. Speakin’ of, damn fine place you found for us. Shame we’ll have to shove off in a couple of days, this would be a perfect place to set of shop for a good long while.”
“In a bit of time, I’m sure the girls will start getting a good grasp of their own on logistics. They’ll need it, if this little outfit wants to stop playing war and go big time.” He shook his head, taking another huff of his pipe. “They also need one hell of a seminar on large-scale infantry tactics; thank Christ we have some veteran field officers, or the Pole would already be disbarred from commanding infantry.” He muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like bayonet charge.
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
With all ten enemy tanks demolished or immobilised, Helena was satisfied. It was time to reposition, for she’d fired from this position twice now.
“Jade Rabbit ter Knight, I’m repositioning but after my tank is hidden again, I’m going ter head down ter meet King. Leaving my tank ter give yaouw status reports if they see anything, or if yaouw request fer it. Sound good?”
It was another twenty minutes before the mercenary was spotted heading down the slope. She stopped first next to Madeleine’s tank, giving the woman a thumb up.
“Yaouw may expose yourself unnecessarily ter enemy fire, but yaouw do see the combat deficiencies of your forces compared ter the enemy. I can tell yaouw are trying ter compensate. Perhaps if we’re here fer a while, we can get ter those M60s out there which surrendered, we can fix one or two of them up ter be used by our forces?”
The Frenchwoman laughed, glancing over. “Lapin, Lapin, Lapin, you doubt me too much. I’m in charge of our intelligence network. As of right now the enemy does not see nous cinq Maréchals as threats enough to focus on, trying to avoid public American casualties while they cover up their work camps. I am taking advantage of our enemy’s stupidity to keep morale high as can be. They underestimate us, Madamoiselle Clapham, and that is their downfall.” She waved the mercenary off. “Le Brigadier is in the mines already, he shouldn’t be hard to find. You have a cute head on your shoulders, Lapin, do your best to keep it there.” Satisfied with her strangely flirtatious farewell, Madeleine went back to command of her primary firing line.
The mines were already full of staff personnel running two and fro, intelligence, command, and barracks already set up. The command room was easy to find, the Brigadier General easily audible cursing up a storm as he seemed prone to. He glanced over at the door at Helena’s entrance, taking a puff of his pipe and stepping away from the map table.
“So you’re the merc Gena hired, eh? Pleasure. John Harrison, at your service. I’m the old coot keeping this operation together while the kids play fuckin’ war with one of the world’s superpowers.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I oughta give ‘em more credit; those girls are individually tactical geniuses, and I’d pity the man who has to face even one of ‘em on a level field, much less all fuckin’ five of ‘em. Problem is we’re not on level ground. The German, the Irishwoman, and the Polish one are all out of their fuckin’ element fighting an enemy that outnumbers and outequips them, and it shows. If Lin and Madeleine weren’t in this outfit they’d have been crushed at San Antonio sure as fuckin’ day.” Finally walking over, he offered a handshake. “Listen to me ramble on, though. It’s damned good to have some more veteran troops around here.”
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
Oddly enough, Helena ignored her order for a few moments, until the initial volley had landed and no shot was flying. The ATGM team did so as well, though only because with every weapon firing at once, they were waiting to get a solution on a still working enemy tank. As the remaining six kept coming, the team aimed at one and released their wire-guided missile. It impacted upon the barrel of one M60, and though it did not outright destroy the tank, it demolished any possibility of using the main weapon without destroying their own tank.
Back up with Helena, the scout tank’s cannon continued to track the enemy tanks. Five seconds after the initial volley, Helena ordered ‘fire’ to her gunner. The 90mm shell arced from near the top of the mountain to straight on top of the lead vehicle of the second wedge. Penetrating through the thin steel there easily, the shell struck ammunition and with a fiery explosion, the turret of the tank blew off.
“So much fer keeping enemy casualties down,” she muttered to herself, before she returned to the radio. “Jade Rabbit ter Knight, eliminated one enemy tank. My team mission-killed another. Reloading, will fire on command.”
“Très bon. Keep it up!” Was all the Maréchal had to say. She raised her arm once more. The M60 whose barrel was destroyed turned about, clearly either ordered to retreat or abandoning the battlefield; either way, it was no longer a target. “Prêt!” Already, two white flags had popped out from immobilized M60s, though others were sighting in to fire over the fair distance.
“Tirer!” Another volley. The remaining four M60s were immobilized, and one of the stationary ones with a functioning turret suddenly belched flames from all of its hatches, two others bellowing thick, black smoke from their engine decks.
The rebels were making up for what they lacked in firepower with precise and underhanded gunnery. Tactically brilliant.
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
“Understood. I’ll head on up the mountain ter a good overlook position,” Clapham said. A smile was finally returning to her – Madeleine may be an idiot, but she was sure an optimistic one, and she wasn’t completely out of her depth when it came to strategy. “Miles and miles of the shit, yeah, but if both of the top people coming here, we have ter make sure there’s no yanks in any of it. I’ll be in contact over the radio if yaouw need me, Faulky.”
With that, Helena headed off to her own Scorpion, and soon the little scout tank was off and clanking back up the mountain. It wasn’t going to be the same position as the previous tank. The mercenary had a better one in mind.
The Irishwoman waved off the merc, hopping back atop her Churchill and pulling her hip flask. The next hour was going to be a long one, especially since she found herself humming that godawful march Madeleine rolled in with.
A long, slow hour passed, the end of it demarcated by the ground trembling, followed by the roar of something mechanical approaching; the only thing that could make a racket that obnoxious would be the Type 5 Heavy, signalling that, thankfully, the approaching forces were Bishop and King. Plans had obviously changed on the move when Rook had beaten Knight to the ridge, but Bishop arriving alongside King was a bit odd. Clearly the rearguard caught up sooner than anticipated.
The Type 5 moved to the very front line, Rook’s troops making one hell of a hole to entrench it in. The absurdly-sized heavy tank was the mobile fortress they needed to hold off the counterattacks, and the dual wedge of M60s spotted on the horizon would prove it. No infantry in sight, though they may follow up after. Red alert was sounded as the Brigadier’s humvee pulled into the clearing, and the man himself stepped old. Brigadier General Harrison was an old, grizzled man with an eternal frown and a Lethal Weapon ‘too old for this shit’ attitude. He chomped an old pipe, taking a big huff from it as the troops scrambled around him.
“Alright, let’s get a fuckin’ move on, people! I want the mess and the latrine set up out here, and everything else is going in the mountains! Get that Sergeant York up on the high ground, so it can’t get an accidental lock on us. Yes, I know the German girl said she fixed it but I still don’t trust the fuckin’ thing!” Lin’s tanks pulled in alongside the bulk of the logistics train, with the single wedge of M60s the revolution had bringing up the rear. Off in the distance, one could hear gunfire, signalling the Army had already sent feelers to probe their river crossing. Once the Brigadier saw that things were being set up to his satisfaction and camo nets put up over the already stationary vehicles, he moved with his staff into the mines, lugging tables, radios, maps, the whole 9.
Lin herself followed him, her tanks moving to dig in on the flanks with Madeleine’s. The M60s were too far out to open fire yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
“No, I haven’t met King,” Helena responded, shrugging her shoulders and adjusting the new pistol. “Sounds like a good person.” She was saying this not just for formalities – Brigadier Harrison was including the elements that made an army a force to worry about, elements that had not been imparted from their mock battles and championship in highschool. “I would like ter meet him. D’yer know his thoughts on having a mercenary and her troops along?”
Yes, there was much that needed to be adjusted if this ragtag group of friends were to truly take on the whole United States. But at least they had one man in a high position with the knowledge of the background required to keep them moving. Amateurs talked tactics; professionals talked logistics.
The two Marshals nodded to each other.
“When ‘e gets here den we’ll bring ye o’er so ‘e can ‘ave a proper once-o’er, aye?”
“D’accord. Until then, we should focus on digging in. The airwaves are mostly clear, but Bishop and King are set to arrive within the hour, so we’re at a crucial point; the enemy holds the Brigadier to be their highest value target, thinking we’d fall apart without him. I’d say they underestimate the young women comme nous who put all of this together, but to imply that he isn’t the hub to our wagon wheel would be a disservice. The best time to strike would be when he is exposed and no longer on the move, so we must be extra vigilant. Until the strategy meeting, oui?” With a fwish of her cape, the Maréchal took off walking south, back to her command tank. Helena jerked her head towards their entrenched line.
“Back ta starin’ at moiles n’ moiles a empty feckin’ sand fer us, den, aye?”
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
The mercenary accepted the greeting, even as she mouthed to Faulkner another ‘idiot’ over Madeleine’s shoulder. Upon release, she did continue to speak in protest. “Your philosophy of life makes no sense ter me. I may be British, but there are a great many British officers known fer dying because they believed in doing exactly that. Nothing’s worse fer morale than an idiot officer getting their head shot off, is how I see it.”
Clapham shook her head in exasperation, but let it go. “Welcome to our frontline, Madeleine. That’s a yank tank, a scout type. I killed the crew and captured it, we’re probably going ter send it ter King.”
Faulkner merely nodded with emphatic raised eyebrows, then shrugged and clapped Madeleine on the back. “We caught dis fecker peepin’ on us from o’er dis very hill on approach, an’ apparently the yoke was new an’ int’restin’ enough fer Clapham here to bring it on o’er. She’s got some kind a experimental gun-launcher shenanigan goin’ on. Can shoot rounds an’ feckin ATGMs bot’. Can you believe?” Madeleine nodded along, stroking her chin.
“It’s a concept we’ve seen before, if I remember right. During the battle for San Antonio they sent in an experimental model of M60 with a very similar gun; took out the Jagdtiger Gena scrounged up with a single ATGM. Never saw it coming. I think letting King take a look at it’s the right move, though I imagine it’ll probably get roped in with either Bishop or my light tanks. The Brigadier General doesn’t care much for these experimental projects of the Army’s, and doesn’t hesitate to tell us.”
“Ah, shite! Clapham, ye haven’t met the ol’ bloke, ‘ave ye? E’s the main reason dis operation’s still aloive an’ runnin’, loike as not."
“Vraiment sûr. Brigadier General Harrison runs our little band of vagabonds on the operational level, keeps our logistics and our force rotations in check so no one gets overextended or overexerted. We wouldn’t be fighting them off nearly as efficiently without him.” While they spoke, Madeleine’s force broke off into sections, digging in on the flanks with men and vehicles.
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
Helena was left shaking her head, and muttered ‘focking pompous arse,’ to the Irishwoman. Though she had quite liked Madeleine in the past, on a real battlefield, the mercenary was already worried. Once the woman and all of her French vehicles were close, Helena stepped out of her camouflaged position to flag the tanker down. “Get your focking head down, gadgie! We’re in a war zone, and sticking your head out of your tank like that makes yaouw an easy target, especially leading the focking troops in song!” All semblance of the girl in high school was missing from the scowling woman with a sub-machinegun tucked under her arm.
“It’s good and all ter keep the troops in high spirits, but not like this! What if there was a sniper around, girl? A scout? Focking anybody who knows nobody except a high ranking person would dare ter wear a focking cape?” Nor did the mercenary seem to have respect for rank — rank unearned and rank in a ‘military organisation’ she was not personally in.
Upon seeing Helena, the boisterous Frenchwoman brightened, peeking down to give an order to her driver before hopping up, out the cupola, and casually stepping and jumping down the tank in motion, landing gracefully. She walked over with a brisk, jaunty pace, removing her gloves as she approached.
“That is certainly one way to greet an old friend, Madamoiselle Clapham. Bonjour all the same! It’s been forever.” A handshake and a cheek kiss, as was custom, followed the greeting. “Pay no worry to me; the men started the marching song all on their own, I just support them. If there was a sniper, I would have been shot at. As I have not, there was not.”
“Well sure it’s a roight feckin’ wonder yer still kickin’ if dat’s yer outlook on loife. Ai din tink Ai’ve seen a more reckless caffler in me feckin loife, good Lord.”
“Was it not the British who observed that the men took heart in the officers scoffing before danger? I will let no threat cow my spirit, besides.” Making a fist, the Maréchal thumped her chest, the sound dense and padded. “I’ve been wearing that plated armored vest our chère Gena made for us back when we left. Hot and heavy, oui, but there’s no arguing with rolled homogeneous steel in kevlar.” Looking over, she gestured to the Sheridan, looking between the two Helenas.
“Enough about me, what is that thing? Another Army prototype sent for field testing against us?”
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
As the Irish Helena’s forces spread out, so too did the British Helena’s, sans the anti-tank team which remained in place. Slowly but surely, the camouflage upon Helena’s scorpion was added to until it was not recognisable as a tank anymore, but rather a scrawny bush that had eked out a living in this desert.
Patience was the name of the game now, whether it was for Faulkner’s peers to arrive, or the enemy.
The line sat and waited, and waited, and waited. For well over three hours, all was quiet on the western front. At hour three, a very odd sound came from behind the battle line, slowly growing in volume. While Helena may have had her suspicions about the odd noise, Irish Helena knew right away the cause and source.
“Fer feck’s sake, ye’d tink we were runnin’ a roight proper feckin’ army here, but it looks loike de Frog’s got ‘er feckin’ lads blatherin’ deir poor ‘earts out wit’ some ditty or other. Ready de feckin’ earplugs fore ye get an ‘eadache, Clapham.” As the noise grew even closer, the noise could be more refined in identification. Specifically the sound of engines, tracks, and the unmistakable racket of an army singing on the march.
Once they crested the hill the words were actually intelligible from the lips of night one hundred and fifty foot and the tank crews in their steel coffins:
“J’aime l’oignon frit á huile, j’aime l’oignon quand il est bon! J’aime l’oignon frit á huile, j’aime l’oignon, j’aime ‘oignon!
Au pas, camarades! Au pas camarades! Au pas, au pas, au pas! Au pas, camarades! Au pas camarades! Au pas, au pas, au pas!”
This could not actually be happening. The lead tank, an ARL-44 with the 90mm gun, had her hatch open and her commander torso exposed, making a majestic scene with the thick uniform cape she wore flaring in the wind behind her, leading her force in song.
There was no mistaking the drama that accompanied Madeleine Mauriel Sauveterre, especially not after her apparent self-promotion to Marshal.
Revolutionary Days
usagienforcer:
The mercenary shrugged, adjusting her gear back to the way she liked it. It wasn’t exactly military perfection, rather geared more for pure comfort.
“I can tell yaouw sometime, fer sure. I’ll get back ter my vehicle and join the line. I believe my infantry have deployed, but I didn’t look fer them before I got ter yaouw. The new tank will be left here, but be warned, yaouw should send somebody ter clean it. Somebody with a strong stomach. Sword wounds don’t tend ter be pretty.” Notably, there was a pistol on her gear that hadn’t been there before – one that for some of the defected members of the revolutionary army, may be recognisable as one issued to tank commanders…
While Helena recognized the rather unique pistol that the mercenary now brandished, she didn’t comment on it; after all, it was war. Everyone takes trophies.
The mountain was completely vacant other than the Sheridan, and the Irishwoman directed her troops to dig in a little spread out, even rolling out dark camo nets and bushes. An enemy counterattack was unlikely, but it never hurt to be prepared. Once everything was set up, the Field Marshal would be found resting atop her Black Prince with its crew, playing cards. The Sheridan needed to be addressed, but it seemed that Helena was more than willing to let it sit as a topic until her peers arrived.