Rushing inside; Captain Jack and his sailors rushed within the bar and toward the door behind the bar table. "The door's locked, cap!"
"Den' bust the door down den you dumb-ass!"
"Right on!" The sailor prepped his shoulder, creating some distance before; bam! The first strike, the sailor fumbled and his body slammed on the ground.
"Oh good lord," Captain Jack stood over him, his hand down for the man to grab, "what's appened' with you? Hold on I'll do this instead!"
"Ha…!" Jack (in his short runway) blasted the door with all his might, only to bounce all the way back and to the other side of the room. "I can... I cannot do it." His soul leapt for the afterlife.
The sailors around him stared in disappointed, then someone suggested: "blow off the handle with the gun,"
"But won't that attract attention?" A sailor retorted.
"It's a one and done deal I suppose, and whatever's down there; we can use for our defense."
"Right on, then."
Without a second thought, the sailor aimed then shot his rifle, and as quickly as he had shot; they rushed within. It' was pitch black, the darkness being alleviated with the flick of a switch after much struggle.
Full of dust and enshrouded in cobwebs. They ran their way down the worn-down cobble steps.
"Oh dear mother-God." The sailor couldn't fathom his discovery.
The other sailors scooted into, their expressions the same awestruck faces.
"We've a whole armory here!" The sailor leapt to a box containing an STG-44, clean-looking and great in appearances, he checked the magazine; 'no ammo.' Putting it back, he racked the bolt.
"Men!" The Captain wobbled down the steps, "I believe you've all struck gold! So we'll all pillage and plunder!"
"Aye!"
---
[ From the side of the Ruskans ]
"Sir!" A soldier ran towards the commander, panting and losing breath. "Resistance are being met at the south-side of the city, captain Milkshire's requesting reinforcements, sir!"
Then another soldier; "Sir! The Germans at the bunker have eliminated our invasion force; we cannot proceed the take-over!"
Then, "Sir-!"
"Goodness!" The commander cried, forced to stand, "what is happening! Why are our forces so scrutinized!? Ah pray tell, what is it?" -He looked at the last soldier who came into his tent- "please tell me it's urgency does not meet the other two."
"S-sir…" He nervously started; "our flanks are being met with heavy resistance, especially atop the mountain-range; Jane city troops possess mobile artillery."
The commander, defeated; sighed and fell to his wooden seat. "Have the invasion force address the flank problem, advise sir… Milkshire. Advise sir Milkshire that I cannot offer any troops, and that he should drawback."
"Yes, sir!"
They left the tent.
( A few minutes later )
"Sir!"
"Report." The commander asked weary.
"Captain Milkshire's soldiers, and he himself; has succumbed to the enemy, and has all perished."
"What!?" The commander slammed his hand onto the table.
[ To Captain Jack ]
"I've not an idea this were the power of dee' German Auto rifles!" Captain Jack repeatedly fired, not stopping to check if the enemy was dead. "I mean, have they even fired back!?"
"No, cap!" A sailor ran to him, "we've done extinguished them all with this!"
*Click!
Jack pushed the magazine release, letting it fall on the floor.
"Ah," a sailor picked up the mag, "you can't drop these cap, if the enemy gets ahold of these, they'll get better, and the lord also says to keep em' and never to drop them."
"Right, right." He observed the yonder distance, "we must advance forward, quickly!"
"Yes, cap!"
Swiftly running in the shadow of the building eaves; tried every corner and shot every belligerent seen. The city's roads were cracked, beyond relief, and sprawled about were the remnants of activity before the invasion of the Ruskans. More so were the several bodies of Ruskan soldiers, blood spilling from their bullet wounds, their eyes filled with terror; bloodshot and horrified.
A sailor eyed up their uniforms, "they still think iron plates can deflect bullets, they could theoretically; if they were thicker. It's just useless."
"Aye," Captain Jack rounded up the corner; "but if it were just'a chance of deflection, who'd not take that?"
The sailor shrugged.
Carrying on, they started to feel a faint rumble. "A tank of ours?" A sailor questioned.
"I've not been informed of that." Jack peeked the corner, "and this intensity is not as jaw splittin' as aurs. I remember what our tanks do and what they shake the ground with. It'a Ruskan un'."
The other sailors peeked the corner, and by God it was a Ruskan Tank. In comparison to the reports Jack had seen of the Kerfeliz tanks off Gresh; these ones were different.
The iron hull stuck to the ground low and it was unsually wide, the back of the turret was open, and exposed the internals of the tank barrel. But, this kind of configuration made the tank (as reported in Gresh) faster than those Kerfelizian tanks.
"What do we do, cap?" They looked at Jack, awaiting response.
"We run."
"Huh?"
"We run back to the bar me ladie!" Captain Jack made way, running while his sailors stood in silence. Looking back; "What're ye doin'! Yall all be caught in the nonsense!"
"Yes, sir!"
The tank sighted them but they were a bit too far and had hidden themselves in the darkness of the ruined streets, beyond and into the alleys.
[ Back int the bar's basement ]
"Grenades cap," a sailor noticed a whole section of them, neatly stacked in unopened crates. "We can try and drop a grenade on them, either we throw them nearby or we throw them topside via some building window."
"We could!" Cried the Captain, "but that is stupid!"
"Just a suggestion."
"The main reason we shoot from far' in naval woorfare, is so that we don't get hit ourselves. We's more safe from far'way." Captain Jack browsed the shevles of weapons, from the Lugers, rifles, and snipers.
He ex'ed the use of the PTRS-41 since no-one specialized in marksman ship. But, from the corner of his eye, Captain Jack had found upon himself; "our weapon!" He cried, jubiantly throwing his hands in the air in excitement.
"What is it, cap?" The sailors gathered to him, lifting a heavy box out of the shelf, and opening it. "I've dun seen deez thin's in the Kerfeliz conflect. It'r the PIAT!"
( * )
"Where did they go?" The Ruskan tank commander asked of his adjutant, looking upon the narrow street with a sense of dread.
"No idea, sir."
"Were they sailors? They wore white…"
"I think they were," he stared at the commander. "The German forces have to be thinning out if they had to send sailors instead of regular soldiers in the battlefield, think we can smash this one, sir."
"Don't jinx it," he replied grimly, "these are Germans we're talking about. Not the Betelions, nor the Hesians. And even if they're drawn at their straws; they'll be holding onto the ledge with an iron grip."
Before the adjutant would speak; the commander stopped him so he could assume his duty at more percise manner.
{ RUSKAN MK.5 }
-The lightest variation of the normal Kerfelizian tanks and featured special Ruskan developments therein. It featured a seven-centimeter barrel for the turret (unrifle). The tank's ten miles-per-hour speed and lightweight design made it rather vunerable and weak.
-However, it was still able to resist the normal gun calibres, and does well in enduring explosions. However it's tracks were unusually bad. Though the Lottidenty tanks (A.K.A the same tanks as the ones off Gresh) were already in it of itself were inferior in comparison to German tanks.
The commander sighed, "the General's bravado's fallen flat ever since the Germans breached the great wall. This last minute ditch attempt just to throw of the Germans in their full-on invasion east-ward and inland… It's a stupid attempt, and I know I'm dying tonight, and I can't go back unless I wanted me, my parents, my wife, and my children to be detained, to be killed, and to not have even a proper burial."
The tank sluggishly throttled forth, it's tracks running over the deceased; shot bodies of their comrades. The commander and his adjutant observed the alleys, slips, and by-ways. But it came to no fruit.
*BOOM!
The three-crewed tank ducked down in fear;
"What was that!?" The commander turned around, the blast where the explosion came from had destroyed the building's second floor. Immidiately; "turn! Turn to left to that road! Rotate the turret the other direction! Prepare a round! Now! Now!"
"Yes, sir!"
"The Germans have great weapons, and I won't be surprised if they had ranged explosion guns. The front-part of the tank's more armored than the back; if they shot at us; I'd rather them shoot at the angled and most thickest rather than the fragile ass of this tank!"
"Sir!" Yelled the adjutant, "I've spotted signatures back where we came from! Firing?"
"Fire!"
---
"Get down!" Captain Jack yelled, making them duck down.
The tank round exploded the building after them into rubble! A massive round of bricks cascaded down, narrowly avoiding the squad's amount of Jack's sailors.
"Cap, you alright?"
Jack whisked away the little rubble pieces on his jacket; "am foin! The tank, to it now! To it now!"
A sailor picked up the PIAT laying safely on the ground beside him, and sighted over the barrier they hid themselves behind. The cloud of dust hid the location of the tank.
"Hol' on!" Jack stopped the man, "we better go somewhere else, else they shoot ere' again."
"Aye, cap." Picking themselvese up, they began running away from the sight of the explosion.
The constant yet faint rumbling of the ground caused by the tank; and the distressing, hard-to-breathe in environment made it unbearably hard to focus on the task at hand.
Out of the clouded veil, the sailors noted the disapperance of the tank from their vision. "Press yonder forward, we hide in that building," -he pointed to it- "over there, see dat' stair that reaches the roof; we go above and we shoot above; that tank can't do shit up bove'."
"Aye, cap'in!"
( * )
"Is it done?" Adelheid looked at the papers, skimming through the document's papers.
"Yes, sir!"
"Thank you, you may go."
The soldier saluted and turned a hundred-eighty degrees with one movement and walked to the door.
"The applicants were reviewed by me and several others from the newly founded 'Aerial Force,' most of the members of the Aerial force are actually Betelions who were experienced in dragoon flying, and I'm serving as the administrator to carry out plans for the HQ."
Adelheid flipped to the last page, expecting a low number of applicants, but to his shock; "two hundred!?" -Adelheid yelled in surprise- "the lord's only given us five planes to work with!"
However, amongst the lot of two hundred names in small font reading, there stood out three names displayed in bolder black.
Sophie Hondur
Gallahad Follier
Farea Mandeblum
"The name Farea Mandeblum rings a bell," Adelheid warmed himself up on his seat; "Farea… Farea Mandeblum… If my memory serves me right, he was one of the special trainee candidates in the Ridge Brown trainees. And that he's Betelionic," -he sighed deeply- "I don't wanna interview all two hundred; these three will do for me."
---
The specialized airbase over Foole was decked out with a three-kilometer runway, with four hangars on one end to house the planes that Hierd had gotten. Currently, trainee aviation control men were stationed inside of the tower at the end of the other runway.
Since the main need of an aviation control man was communication and logic, the personnel were hand picked from the radio-men in the Venit-Ille black batalions.
A main building was located amidst the tower and the hangars, where Adelheid was sitting and observing the applicants.
"Good Afternoon to you all," Adelheid's smooth voice calmed them. "I am your superior, and will serve as the first aviation General for the air force/the actual name; Aerial Forces. You three were handpicked by many officials, and I would love to know why.
"And before I get to anything; understand that this is a new experience. For the three of you to be picked, you must've had some kind… Any kind of experience in the sky. I am sure you know of the dragoon forces," -he looked at Farea- "and that you two 'were' sailors from the ship I had commanded some while back." Adelheid smiled.
"Y-yes, sir." Sophie spoke up, "it was a pleasure to be a part of the bridge crew during your captainship of the Leberect Maaas."
Gallahad nodded in approval, expressing the same.
"Ah, thank you." He chortled a little. "Well; before we get into the specifics; the air force will not be specializing in dragoons. And rather; planes."
"Planes?" They all questioned.
"Our ships are mechanical wonders, the very fact that those exist for the oceans and it's seas. Means there should also be one that exists for the air and it's currents;" -he slid forward a picture- "right there is the engineering genius of Germany's aeronautics. The P-47 Thunderbolt."
"Thunderbolt…" The affix to the designation was telling enough that this flying mechanism was to be as fast as a thunderbolt. They all felt a thrill that one would experience as if getting to play something only so few have. A priviliege one might say.
"Now, the practice… The training of the use of such planes begins tommorow three hours before noon. You three are expected to be at the doorstep of Hanger II with the gear you will receive by the end of the day at your rooms within the quarters of the Handerbour Territorial Government Building…
"Foreshorten that to HTGB in the future…" He took a second to breathe, "first floor, far right. It's a pretty place."
"Yes, sir!" They said in unison.
"However, before you four leave;" Adelheid stood up. "I want to to visit the planes that are in the Hangar. I think you should accompany me so that you can have a look-see of the things that these cameras can't replicate."
"Yes, sir."
---
Guarded by around ten Ridge-Brown soldiers; the entrance to Hangar II was opened through a complex mechanism of locks and switches, that when switched together in correct sequence and key; will unlock it.
Then, within the large Hangar building. They saw the iron-stack of neatly arranged P-47s posed parallel and equally trained towards the Hanger's front gate.
"This is…" Farea couldn't find the words, "amazing." He walked to first plane, examining the two wings and the distinctly shaped propellor an as well as the whole shape of the plane's hull.
"I see the body of a dragoon." Gallahad mentioned, fascinated by the design and features. "A dragoon cladded in iron, with guns attached to it's wings and bellies," -he gripped lightly one of the four protruding barrels of the left wing- "why are they all of alternating length? And by the looks of it; they are fifty-calibres."
Adelheid flicked the design papers, "I see here that it's supposed to ensure that the rate of fire would be consistent, and that jams wouldn't happen as frequently."
Gallahad mired in the thought.
"Four… No, eight fifty calibre machine guns on each wing… With the chassis (I think) being lightly armored enough to withstand regular bullets…" Gallahad thought to himself, "what are we fighting with the P-47? Ground infantry? We wouldn't be able to attack ships with this…"
"You miss the reason!" Sophie broke out in comedic prose, "The lord's reasoning for this machine is to respond to the dragoon forces! If the NA have it; they can still do extreme amounts of damage to areas where we have not a lot of guns!"
Adelheid chuckled, "although that is the main reason for it's making; it isn't it's sole reason. The lord also wants to use the plane for 'air-shows,' 'coastal-bombing raids,' and 'short-range scouting missions.'"
Before the others could voice their brimming amounts of intrigue, and to question how it works and how it will work and blah-blah; Adelheid stopped them with a clap; "we shall depart now, you will have your questions answered after you learn how to ride one."
With brimming excitement; "yes, sir!" Stars in their eyes made Adelheid sweat nervously, thinking about the future.
( * )
"There!" The sailor immidiately popped out from his position, PIAT in-hand, and ready-to-fire.
*swoosh!
The rocket propelled downward and towards the tank!
*BOOM!
From their roof-top position, they were able to target the tank rolling in the city's roads in it's most vunerable spot (the back). Celebrating; captain Jack clapped the sailor's hands; "You'll receive a medal for that, good man!"
But then; the cloud of dust cleared.
*Phirrr
*BOOM!
A direct hit at the roof-top! Captain Jack was blown aback; his spine seemingly cracking under the intense pressure of his blow-back onto the brick wall of the protruding stairway room.
Then;
Blackout.
---
"Cccc… Ca-p!" A distorted sound, barely distinguishable to the fallen captain.
"C... Cap!" A more recognizable sound; the whirring and buzz his ears generated within the blast fading by-the-second. "Cap! Get yo' ass up, cap! You haven't even gotten a woman laid yet! I'm not letting our virginity follow with us… Especially you; to the grave!"
"Quit yer' yappin you knuckle-bitch!" Captain Jack weakily squealed and laughed! "W-what's happened?"
"Direct hit, cap. You were unconsious for a good three minutes." He coughed, "there's six of us that can't move. And most of us injured but can still; to some ability; do."
"That'er good enough." Captain Jack stood up, belaying the sailor's helping hand. "I'm angry. Furious, ladd! Furious! Do you see my hairs burnin? Show's you how furious am I; I am; am this moment!"
"There's barely enough hair in that head to do much burnin' cap!"
"Bah!" Captain Jack took the PIAT on the ground beside the unconsious sailor, weakily bending down, with a hundred and one grunts and groans; a true old man.
"Where's the tank?" Captain Jack looked over the ledge; seeing the impact of the PIAT, creating a small crater on the paved road.
"Ran off, cap. They thought we weren't the only one that could respond. Retreated to safety; they should have finished reloading by this time. Proceed with caution I fear we'll need to take, cap."
"Can't do that!" Captain Jack cried in a dramatic pose. "This, ladd; is my chance to be more decorated! See;" -he pointed up at the mountain range road- "the German troops we got at Jane's coming up and's already broken the defense those Ruskans had.
"Ain't havin them take OUR bounty!" Captain Jack laughed, "you'll all receive medals of Valor! That I assure you folk!"
They cried and whimpered tears of joy, "Oh' captain! How generous you are!" They said in sarcastic yet cheerfully rooting words.
"I need er…" Captain Jack looked at his dwindling supply of able-bodied men up at the roof; "I need just three men, and a fuck-ton of grenades and balls!"