Fourth Vector Ch. 40

The Battle of Castus had finally begun.

Jack moved forward almost immediately to link up with Art in the center, where the main defense for the town was located. Jack expected to have the bulk of the army hold the Swabians here, pinned against the town while the two flanking forces moved around each rear.

That meant the attacking Swabian force outnumbered them more than two-to-one. And with this artillery barrage, Jack's men started taking casualties almost immediately.

For those in the middle of the battlefield, the artillery bombardment must have seemed like a total nightmare. It devastated the terrain in the middle of the field, turning what was once a rolling meadow into tortured pits of mud and bone. It lasted for much of the hour, and Jack doubted whether any force could truly withstand such punishment as those men in the middle.

Thankfully though, their trenches were deep enough that they survived the bombardment and were ready to fire at the first Swabians that came their way.

The first concentrated push was well underway by midmorning. Swabian tanks and infantry assaulted the first trenches and the fighting quickly became hot in these areas as masses of Swabian bodies were held back by the well-positioned defense.

It quickly became apparent just how many Swabian were arrayed against them as Jack watched the sheet size of their force overwhelm that first trench. The Allied men in the front had very little chance. Most of them lasted about forty minutes before they were retreating backwards, trying to keep space between them and the invaders.

"We have to turn their flanks," muttered Jack. "Or we're going to lose this fight again."

*****

"Move men! Get moving quickly! As fast as you can go!"

Lindy gestured for his men to keep hustling through the mountain path. Judging by the sounds on the plain, the artillery bombardment had finally ended and the main assault had now begun. Up here closer to the rocky formation, Lindy was leading five regiments of Galicians through the pass, and he was trying to get them through in as little time as possible.

The problem was the path was so narrow that it was impossible for more than two men to go through side by side at any one time. That meant they had to move quickly if all the regiments were to get through to the other side by the appointed time.

"Up you go, man," said Lindy, helping a Galician soldier who'd fallen in the mud on the path. "Keep moving!"

It took more than an hour for them to get to the other side, where the trail suddenly opened up into a sheltered meadow on the other side of Swabian lines. The sound of fighting was now firmly concentrated in the south, and it truly seemed that they'd been able to get around the enemy flank.

The only problem was reported signs of Swabian soldiers not far from the meadow.

"These men aren't taking part in the battle," informed one of the scouts to Lindy after the first part of the force emerged on the meadow. "They seem to be waiting here in reserve but they are now directly in our path if we hope to engage the bulk of Swabian forces."

"How many men would you say?" asked Lindy.

The scout's face scrunched up as he thought. "A couple thousand or so. Not much of a reserve but enough to make it a fight for us."

"Okay, we need to engage them as soon as possible. Surprise is on our side. But if we don't get around that reserve, we'll never be able to put pressure on the main line. Let's get the men attacking immediately!"

And so it was that the mass of Galician regiments soon opened fire on the very surprised Swabian reserve force directly in front of them. The Swabians fell in droves, caught totally unawares at the fact that a force had managed to get behind them. Those that survived that onslaught soon hit the dirt, returning fire at the would-be attackers.

Lindy kept the men rushing toward the reserve force. There was nothing more critical than destroying it to save all their skins.

"Keep pushing forward, men!"

*****

Flying a warplane with a broken leg wasn't that much different than flying it normally.

At least, that was what Dustin was thinking as he first took flight, soon anchoring off of Dante's wing as they scoured the battlefield below. It was near perfect conditions for flying, and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. If not for the mass killing below, it would have been a lovely spring day but Dustin was determined to add to the devastation by taking down any Swabian flyers that appeared.

After all, he needed to get even with those bastards that shot him down the last time.

It wasn't long after the battle started that Dante spotted about six Swabian flyers making their way in a southwesterly course across the battlefield. Dante rocked his wings to indicate to the rest of the group and soon the pursuit was on. Despite being outnumbered by the Swabians six-to-five, Dustin's group had the advantage in that they had more altitude and could come swooping down on their prey.

Dante was the first to score a hit. As soon as the Swabians figured out they had company, they split apart, but it didn't stop the leader from falling right into Dante's sights. A quick burst of gunfire sent the Swabian flyer spiraling toward the ground but in doing so, he quickly found himself on the receiving end of enemy activity.

Dustin watched as his Carinthian friend soon had two Swabians on his tail, eerily reminiscent of the situation that he found himself in back in Sepolz. Dustin dove after the Swabian flyers and tried to get one lined up as Dante swerved back and forth for his life.

"Come on, you bastard, stay still," muttered Dustin as he tried to line up the enemy plane. The Swabians seemed to sense they were in danger as one peeled off to the right, no doubt hoping to take Dustin with him. Unfortunately for him, Dustin stayed glued on the one trying to shoot down Dante and a quick-thinking move by the Carinthian pilot soon put the enemy right in his targets.

"Got you!"

Dustin sent off several small bursts and saw fire erupt on the Swabian plane. It was quickly followed by several puffs of dark smoke before the plane began to lose altitude quickly. Within another second, the nose was soon spiraling toward the ground and a second kill was confirmed for the day.

Dante soon locked himself back onto Dustin's wings. With a grin and a thumbs-up, he said a mostly silent thanks for getting him out of that situation.

Dustin gestured to the rest of the Swabian flyers. "Let's go get them!"

*****

Just north of the town of Castus, Greg stood near the railing of the transport ship as he watched the Swabian coast. Despite being a couple miles north of the battlefield, he could still hear the dreadful artillery barrage as it took place that morning. The intensity of that sound was why he was making all possible haste to the landing site--an open stretch of beach just north of the city.

Around him, Javan marines were waiting for the appropriate signal to disembark, all of them wearing their full gear and sporting their rifles off their shoulders. Upon this small but elite force rested the hopes of the rest of the army. It was the promise of their landing, coupled with the Galician flanking maneuver that was further inland, that would seal off the Swabian Army on all sides to attain victory.

The only thing Greg worried about was numbers. Even with both flanking forces tallied up, they still numbered only about five thousand men. In sheer numbers alone, they would never win the contest against the Swabians but their main purpose for this attack was to cause panic.

If the Swabians in the rear of the formation panicked, it was possible it would extend to the rest of the army, rolling them up one unit at a time.

It was a bold plan, and it all hinged on the Javan marines and the Galicians doing their jobs. Greg was determined that his men would be in place at the appointed time.

Soon enough, the landing site soon came into view. Greg gave the order for the men to begin getting into their launch boats as one of the Galician cruisers escorting the transports softened up the beach prior to their arrival.

Thankfully for the men, there were no Swabians on the beach. The launch boats landed in the soft sands as the marines began to occupy the open territory, creating a smooth beachhead in the process.

It was the best outcome they could have hoped for. Even a single regiment of Swabians on the beach could have derailed the entire plan. With all the marines present and accounted for, Greg gave the order for them to press south.

As soon as they were on their way, it became apparent there was gunfire directly to their west. Greg could only assume that Lindy's force had made it through the path and were now falling on the Swabian flank on their side.

It was time to do their duty now.

Spotting a rear formation of Swabians, Greg gave the order for attack.

Thirteen hundred Javan marines were soon engaged, pouring fire into the backs of the shocked attackers.

Total surprise was achieved. The Swabians fell in droves at the initial onslaught before they finally figured out they were under attack. By that time, they were being pushed back steadily, causing the whole Swabian Army to concentrate into a tinier space.

The game was on.

*****

Lindy's men poured a devastating amount of fire on the Swabian reserve force, enough to make it buckle under the pressure of the attack.

It wasn't even that they outnumbered the Swabians by that much. In a fair contest, this part of the battle would be much closer. Lindy estimated their surprise had been total though, and it was this unnerving feeling that was causing the Swabians to pull back.

It started first with them crawling back to find better ground but soon it became a near rout. The Galician soldiers trampled over the bodies of the Swabian dead as they put pressure against the extreme northern part of the Swabian Army.

Many Swabian units broke and ran. The smarter ones ran north, escaping all traces of the battle. Those that weren't so intelligent ran south to the rest of the army, where they would soon be caught up in the Allied encirclement.

Unfortunately for Lindy, he wouldn't get to see the rest of the battle. One moment he was extolling his men to take a prominent ridge that was higher than the surrounding terrain. In the next, he felt a crushing blow punch right through leg right above the knee. Losing his strength, Lindy toppled to the ground as one of the men closest to him tried to help.

"Sons of bitches, they got me," yelled Lindy as he clutched his leg.

"Hang in there, sir, we'll get you bandaged right up!" promised the private next to him.

"Don't worry about me! Keep chasing after those Swabians! Push them all the way to Jack's men!"

Lindy was still yelling and sputtering utters when he lost consciousness--his entire world fading to black.

*****

On the south side of the battlefield, the situation was starting to disintegrate once more. The Swabian attack was too strong, and Jack watched as trench after trench was abandoned by his men in an effort to pull back toward the city.

Soon enough, they would have nowhere to pull back to. And it would turn into a repeat of the Battle of Murgullah with the street fighting that would occur.

The main problem that Jack had was there was no strategic reserve he could use to buy time for the men on the front to have a breather. Every available force had been allocated to the main battlefield or to one of the flanking actions.

That also put the line in jeopardy if the Swabians broke through. There would be no force available to plug the gap.

It was an incredible risk but it was one they needed to take when so outnumbered.

"Jack, I don't know how much longer the men can hold on," yelled Art after seeing the men cede another trench. "We're getting pounded out here! Any word from the flanking actions?"

"Both Greg and Lindy are in position but there's still eighty thousand Swabians out there," replied Jack. "It's going to take some time for their moves to have an effect!"

Art looked at the Swabians and then back at Jack. "We don't have much time left! Something has to give or we're going to be pushed right back to the town."

Jack grabbed the radio at his belt. "Greg, we really need you right now. Give me a status report please!"

*****

"I got another one! I got him!"

Dustin roared with excitement as he watched yet another Swabian flyer explode in midair, his plane losing a wing as it dove toward the ground. It was the third enemy plane of the day to be shot out of the sky, while all the Allied planes were still in the air. The remaining Swabian planes soon figured out the battle wasn't going to go their way, and they dove for lower altitudes, beating a hasty retreat for the north.

The lull in combat allowed Dustin a moment to scope out the battlefield below. He made one pass of the main field before looping north where the flanking actions under the command of Greg and Lindy were in full force. The two hadn't linked up yet but they seemed to be getting closer.

The net around the Swabian beast was getting tighter. It was still a thin net but it wasn't hard to tell that the Swabians on the northern end of the battlefield weren't as cohesive as the men in the south.

Soon enough, the whole army would buckle. That was the hope anyway.

After all five flyers had regrouped over the battlefield, Dante gave the signal to head back behind friendly lines. They'd done their part in securing the skies.

It was now the army's turn to win the day.

*****

"Greg, I need a status report please!"

Greg grabbed the radio at his waist. "Jack, we're making progress! The Swabians in front of us are crumbling. We're pushing south with all we have. Hold on just a little longer!"

Greg clipped the radio back to his belt and raised his rifle once more, firing off two shots that took down a Swabian defender not thirty yards from his position. He was part of a group of Swabians that was clinging to a small grove of trees since it was the only coverage they had left.

The rest of their force was in a headlong retreat to the south, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the onrushing Javan marines.

Fortunately for Greg and his men, they hadn't taken much in the way of casualties since the battle started. The Swabians had been too confused and/or surprised to offer much in the way of resistance. Even those that were determined to fight back seemed to suffer from wild shots that just couldn't connect.

It only made it easier to push south for the marines, and once the small grove of trees was cleared out, Greg and his men leaped south as quickly as they could.

The most welcome sight of the entire day was when those marines on the extreme right flank of Greg's men soon linked up with Galicians that had crossed over from the hidden path through the mountains.

The encirclement was now complete. The Swabians had nowhere else to run.

"Keep up your firing! Don't let them get away!" roared Greg as he struck down two more Swabians.

Now was the time for vengeance for the prior battles.

*****

Despite how hard-pressed his center was for most of the battle, Jack noticed that the battle seemed to shift in intensity not long after getting in contact with Greg. It wasn't hard to tell that something was wrong with the Swabian line. The attacks began to peter out in strength upon the last trench, enabling the defenders a chance to catch their breath.

Once they'd recovered their strength, Jack's men were soon able to push forward once more, occupying land they'd already surrendered to the Swabians. In the process, small pockets of Swabians became cut off from the main group and eliminated piecemeal. Even the remainder of the enemy tanks were put out of action in the process as Jack's men pressed forward.

Soon, it was quite apparent that panic was setting in with the rank and file of the Swabian Army. They were completely surrounded by their enemy on all sides, and they'd finally seemed to realize it. Those men that were such vicious attackers earlier in the morning found themselves timid defenders that were now running out of land and time.

It became so bad that entire units were now surrendering, which was a forbidden act in the Swabian Army. Whole platoons and soon regiments threw down their weapons and put their hands in the air--an admission of how quickly the battle had turned.

"Keep moving forward," Jack instructed Art. "Get as many units as you can to surrender but I don't want any part of the enemy army to have a chance to strategize their way out of this mess. Keep moving forward until you meet either Lindy or Greg."

By midafternoon, it finally happened. A unit of Picards near the center found themselves face-to-face with one of the flanking Galician regiments.

The encirclement was complete and the Swabian Army was nearly destroyed.

*****

"General Ferberg, sir! We need to get you out of here! We need to get you to safety!"

Chaos reigned around Ferberg as a frightened horde of soldiers moved about the Swabian camp. Not far away, the sounds of gunfire could be heard in both the southern and northern directions--evidence of the army being surrounded.

Ferberg didn't know how it had happened. One minute, he was on the verge of breaking the Allied Army for good. In the next, he was completely encircled and ceding ground on all sides.

Now his position was cut off and there was little chance of escape, despite what his deputy seemed to think.

"If we move quickly enough, we can still get north of the enemy," said the excitable deputy once again.

Ferberg waved his hand dismissively. "The battle is already over, you fool. You can run like the coward you are, but I will do no such thing. Swabian generals don't run."

Ferberg meant the statement quite figuratively, but he shouldn't have been surprised when the deputy took his words literally. He was soon sprinting out of the tent, determined to save his own skin.

"Utter fool," murmured Ferberg as he stepped outside his command tent.

The gunfire was getting closer now. Any minute, it would come within view of his position and that would be the end of it. He hardly expected to live once caught by the Allies, quite certain they would look to kill him for his role in continuing the war.

If he was going to die today, at least he would die with dignity.

Ferberg waited until the camp itself was under attack and then he simply crouched to his knees to await the onrush of soldiers. They appeared soon enough, many of them gawking at the sight of a senior general right in front of him.

"You did it, boys," said Ferberg to the Allied soldiers. "You captured General Ambros Ferberg."

*****

The Battle of Castus turned out to be the overwhelming victory that Jack needed it to be.

By the end of the night, not only had nearly ninety percent of the Swabian Army been killed or captured by his forces, but they'd also bagged the biggest prize of the day--General Ambros Ferberg.

It was a total victory, resulting in only a trickle of Swabian troops escaping the net around them and running to the north. Their destination was no doubt Dagobern, as there was now no army between Jack's forces and the Swabian capital far to the north.

Nothing was stopping them from marching on the center of power and putting an end to this war once and for all.

The best part of the aftermath was the celebration that took place. Soldiers of the Allied Army celebrated like they'd never had before. All the woes and the stresses of the first two battles became utterly forgotten as those survivors gave thanks to good fortune for their victory.

The victory was a little bittersweet for Jack. While he was grateful for a fitting end to this campaign, part of him questioned whether this really was the final battle? Sure, they would still have to take Dagobern but seeing as the majority of the Swabian Army was now destroyed, there could hardly be much in the way of soldiers to defend the Swabian capital.