Fourth Vector Ch. 40

"Are the men ready for a fight?" asked Jack. "If we allow them to start pushing back against these Swabians pushing our perimeter, will they be ready to respond?"

Both Greg and Art nodded eagerly.

"The men are spoiling for a fight, Jack," said Greg. "The end of the war is within sight. If we can deal a knockout blow right now, the boys will be all for it."

"And I don't need to remind you that the Galicians are chomping at the bit to land a heavy blow on Swabian soil," added Art.

Jack mulled those words around without speaking. He stayed silent for several moments as he studied the positions of his army as well as the Swabian forces converging on Sepolz. Truthfully, he hated to act right now without the full weight of the army with him but he couldn't exactly allow the advantage to leave his hands without using it.

Especially not while they were on Swabian soil. With the Swabians showing no shortage of men to throw at them, who knew when they would get such an advantage again?

"All right," said Jack finally as he looked at each of the three men in the room. "Let's accept battle. Get word to the men and let's look to engage as soon as possible. I want to position as much of our tank force along the coastal strip to counter their tanks when they approach. Dustin, let's get air cover above us just in case we see any Swabian planes. Don't forget to take some bombs with you as well."

Dustin was the first to react and a smile suddenly appeared on his lips. "Looks like we have a fight in front of us. I've been itching for it ever since we landed."

"And you're bound to get it," replied Jack. "Let's just hope that we can finish off these two forces in front of us before we find ourselves drowning in Swabians."

*****

It didn't take long for basic hostilities to commence after Jack and his generals left their command tent that day. With skirmishes already happening all along the perimeter, the order was given to engage and pursue, setting up the scene of the next great battle of the Fifth Swabian War--the Battle of Sepolz.

Initially, the battle kicked off with favorable terms for the Allies. Their single force of thirty thousand was together in one piece, and it was moving against two fragmented pieces of Swabian forces separated by a rocky coastal formation that prevented either of them coming to the other's aid.

Since the majority of the Swabian units seemed to be coming down the coast, Jack had most of his forces arrayed to face against them, operating on the coastal strip. Those Allied units on the coast were also supported by the very limited naval force that still operated with the army while the vast majority of the navy escorted the transports.

For those units that were moving through the interior, Jack dedicated some picked units of Samarans and Apulians to stop them in their tracks.

By noon, the fighting had begun. And so had the hardest battle that Jack had ever fought.

*****

"The Galicians and their dogs are fighting back! They are pushing out of their defensive positions!"

General Ambros Ferberg stood outside his command tent and listened to the report of his colonel in front of him. The sea was only several hundred yards from his position, and already he could hear the dull roar of artillery and mortars from a distance away, all confirming the colonel's words.

"Is this a local skirmish like what's been happening all morning?" asked Ferberg. "Or is this a concentrated force? Are they holding the ground they occupy?"

The colonel nodded quickly. "They pushed out my men and kept advancing forward. At this rate, they are going to put a serious dent in our goal of cutting them off to the south. I don't have enough men to keep on with my mission. That's why I'm here to ask for another regiment to add to my forces."

Ferberg held up his hand and cut off the colonel. "No more regiments will be sent to you, at least not yet. You need to remember that your force is just a diversion. The real weight of this attack is coming up the coastal road. I need you to split the attention of the Galicians and make it easier for us to smash through their lines along the coast."

"But, sir, if I keep getting pushed back--"

"It's simple then," snapped Ferberg. "Quit getting pushed back and make your men stand and fight! You know how that's done, don't you, Colonel? Or do you need a reminder?"

The colonel gulped heavily and shook his head. No reminder would be necessary for him. After all, Swabian commanders didn't permit their soldiers to be pushed back or be forced to retreat. Any soldier that demonstrated such loathsome activity was allowed to be shot by his comrades.

The only path of movement in the Swabian Army was straight ahead.

"I will do the best that I can with the forces at my disposal," said the colonel in a timid voice, his attitude already changed.

"Wonderful," replied Ferberg acidly. "Get back to your post and keep me informed on what's going on."

The colonel offered a salute and started moving, allowing Ferberg time to attend to another messenger who'd just arrived. Judging by the patch on the man's uniform, he was from one of the regiments that was inbound from the north.

"Captain, how soon will your men be here?" asked Ferberg, not waiting for the customary greetings.

"No more than two hours max," replied the captain. "Our men are moving with all possible haste. Nearly twenty newly-formed regiments will be here by late afternoon."

"Excellent, tell them to be ready for a fight when they get here," said Ferberg. "Your commanding officer already has his instructions for what to do upon arrival. We'll need to throw your weight along with the rest of my forces against this coastal gap. By nightfall, I hope to shatter the Allied line completely."

"Yes, sir!" roared the Captain before offering a similar salute and soon disappearing.

Ferberg turned back to the south and listened to the roar of artillery. It was soon joined by another sound that was louder and closer to his position--the sounds of tank engines as they roared to life and began clanking toward the south.

Today, Ferberg was going to throw everything he had at the Allies.

And he was going to break them.

*****

One component of the battle that kicked off that was drastically different from the ones that came before was the aerial aspect. Dustin was used to doing aerial reconnaissance over enemy lines, and when they were still fighting in Picardy over a year ago, he would occasionally see Swabian planes doing the same thing.

Right before Daban was occupied by the Swabians for the second time, planes in the air started shooting at each other, adding another degree of danger to an already intense activity. That of course led to guns being mounted on the fuselage and the wings, and the first true warplanes were revealed.

However, in the last few campaigns, there was a relative dearth of Swabian aerial activity. There was virtually none in Picardy and Naxos, and only a handful of warplanes in Apulia.

That changed when they arrived in Swabia. Suddenly, the prospect of overhead raids by the Swabians became very real, and Dustin and his men were tasked with keeping them out of the airspace above the army.

For that reason, Dustin was in his warplane as it steadily built altitude after taking off in a grassy, flat area outside of Sepolz. He flew a monoplane now, having finally exchanged his trusty biplane for the trusted design of the Carinthian engineer, Dante. The monoplane proved to be more stable than his old biplane and although it didn't turn nearly as fast, Dustin found that he preferred the way it maneuvered over his old plane.

Of course, Dante would never let him hear the end of it, especially the first time they flew.

"I knew you'd come around eventually," said the Carinthian engineer, beaming with pride as Dustin added ammunition to a nearby monoplane. "It's a better machine, isn't it?"

"We'll see about that," grumbled Dustin. "But if it sucks, I'm going back to my biplane."

It turned out that it didn't suck. Dustin quite enjoyed flying the monoplane and that was why he switched over and never looked back.

That morning, Dustin, Dante, and three other flying companions were now scouting the edge of the developing battlefield not far from the rocky formation that split off from the coast. They were flying in a V formation, with Dustin taking the lead role while the other four flew just behind him on each flank. It was another tactic from the mind of Dante--designed to give them coverage against any enemy warplanes.

Dustin had a feeling this fight was going to see the emergence of Swabian fighters, and that's why he wasn't surprised when a group of four Swabians appeared on the horizon, heading in a southeast direction, which happened to put them on a collision course for his men.

Seeing the Swabians, Dustin gave the signal to Dante and the other man on his right, and the entire group pivoted slightly to engage the onrushing Swabians. Before today, he'd never engaged a group this large, and despite the relatively small amount of numbers, it was about to become the largest air battle in history to that date.

The Swabians didn't stick together when they saw the approaching Allies. Two of their numbers hit the deck, diving closer to the ground while the two remaining in the air split off, going in separate directions.

As the lead plane, Dustin went after the Swabian that was closest to his position, which happened to be one of the planes that dived. He maneuvered his plane into a breathtaking dive to follow after the enemy, changing directions as he dove to emerge right on the Swabian's tail.

"Oh, I got you now," growled Dustin as he locked onto the Swabian's course. For a brief moment, his sights aligned with the enemy warplane and he fired off a short burst from his mounted NT-12.

It was a near miss. The Swabian seemed to sense he was in danger and banked a sharp right turn to escape. Dustin was just as quick with his reflexes and followed after him, not losing any time or distance in the process.

Just when he'd locked target on the enemy once more, he fired off another burst. That one made contact but it wasn't enough to bring the flyer down.

To make matters worse, Dustin caught sight of a flash just off to his right. He pivoted his head to find another Swabian, this one doing exactly what he was doing to the flyer in front of him!

Suddenly, Dustin found himself in the middle, with the man behind him trying to line up his shot to take him down.

Before he could finish off the enemy in front of him, he felt the first burst of bullets from the Swabian behind him.

"Son of a bitch!" he roared as several of those bullets made contact with his plane.

*****

While Dustin was getting shot at, Greg was on the northern coast of the battlefield, overseeing the tank force as each individual crew brought their unit to life and prepared to roll ahead. Waiting for them on the other side of a long but narrow coastal meadow was the Swabian tank force, ready to do battle with their ancient foes.

By the time the tanks had formed and fueled up, it was already just after noon, and they were soon creaking and groaning across the battlefield while small groups of Allied soldiers moved in-between them.

For his part, Greg was able to slip in with another tank crew that was closer to the rear, occupying what was usually the machine gunner's position so that he could keep a close eye on the battlefield.

As they crept forward, they inevitably met the Swabian line of resistance and the fighting was soon intense. From just beyond the first ranks of Swabians, their tanks came moving closer, starting the fight in earnest.

"Focus the main gun on the enemy tanks! We'll use our heavier caliber gun to disable them!" roared Greg to the rest of the crews via radio.

That order kicked off the start of several salvos from the tanks as they locked on their Swabian counterparts.

It was soon answered by a roar from the Swabians. Greg noticed that the enemy had also upped the caliber of their guns, no longer equipped with dainty machine guns for mowing down infantry.

No, the tanks on either side were now designed to take out other tanks first, followed by infantry as a distant second.

The Allies were the first side to draw blood. Greg watched as two Swabian tanks near the front soon exploded in a blaze of fireworks. Heavy black smoke poured from their engines as other tanks nearby soon rolled past them, leaving the casualties in the dust.

Despite scoring their first hits, the Swabian response took out several on the Allied side as well. One well-placed round directly landed on the tank closest to Greg's, exploding into a fireball a moment later. They were so close that Greg could still hear the screams of the men inside, no doubt being cooked alive by the flames.

Between the tanks, the infantry on both sides continued to fire on another, and the battle became tense as groups of soldiers on either side rushed forward to take out tanks when they could. At one point, Greg even had to man the machine gun to take out some Swabians who were targeting them with what looked like their own version of sticky bombs.

The battle continued to ebb and flow but one by one, losses on the Allied side continued to mount, despite the limited support from naval artillery. It seemed like for every one tank they took out of the Swabians, they lost two in response. The Allied tanks were falling in droves, but just before he could order a pullback of his forces, something terrible happened.

A round from an enemy tank made contact with his own. Greg could only close his eyes as a wall of flames soon headed in his direction.

*****

Closer to headquarters, Jack and Art were monitoring the strategic situation and keeping tabs on where the fighting was the fiercest. The thick of the battle seemed to be centered along the coastal strip, where the entire tank force of both sides were engaged in a deadly struggle. The fighting in the interior though didn't seem to be so bad, and those units on the other side of the rocky formation were making steady progress.

Unfortunately, they would have to be told to halt in their current positions.

"We're getting pushed back all along the coastal strip," said Art as he gestured to a crude map. "We can't let the boys in the interior get too far ahead or they're likely to get cut off."

"Can we pull them back completely and feed them into the battle on the coast?" asked Jack.

"I'd be hesitant to do that because it would leave our entire flank open for them to hit us," said Art. "And if they get around our flank, we'll have nowhere to go if this battle doesn't turn around!"

There was no easy decision to make. Jack kept feeding forces into the meat grinder on the coast but for every unit he put in, he saw a bevy of wounded trying to make their way out.

"We need to withstand the pressure," said Jack finally. "The Swabians have to be getting tired. They can't keep holding up much longer!"

Art gave him a fearful look. "That's what worries me the most, Jack. What if they don't let up any time soon?"

It was a question that no one was prepared to answer.

*****

"Stop shooting at me, you son of a bitch," roared Dustin as he rocked his wings in between bursts of fire. The contest in the air above Sepolz was still anyone's game. For right now though, Dustin had gone from being the hunter to being the hunted, and he was just trying to stay alive long enough to get home.

He needed every trick for evasion in his arsenal at that moment, as the Swabian flyer on his tail was determined to shoot him out of the sky.

Thankfully, he was able to stay close to the Swabian in front of him, which made the hunter on his tail more reluctant to fire lest he hit one of his own men in front Dustin.

Things were getting more tense by the minute. Several bullets had connected with Dustin's plane, but none of them had caused enough damage that would take him down.

Well, none had caused enough damage yet. Dustin was sure the Swabian would get lucky if he didn't shake him soon.

"Where the hell are the rest of my guys," yelled Dustin. "Can't someone get this asshole off my tail?"

He didn't even have time to search the skies around him since all his energy was focused on evasion. Dustin kept looking behind him, trying to make sure he was staying one step ahead of his pursuer.

Thankfully for him, he didn't notice that one of his flyers had now slotted behind the Swabian.

One moment, he was certain he was going down.

In the next moment, the Swabian on his tail exploded in a fireball as his warplane took just enough bullets to send him hurtling toward the ground.

"Hot damn, great shooting!" yelled Dustin, grateful to have the Swabian off his tail again. He couldn't see who made the shot but he would find out later when they landed.

Now that his tail was free, he could focus his attention on the Swabian in front of him. It didn't take long before he lined up his sights, and a quick burst of fire destroyed the plane of the second Swabian.

With no more Swabian warplanes in the immediate vicinity, Dustin brought his plane around to see who was the lucky pilot that saved his skin.

It came as no surprise that it was Dante, who gave a long wave as Dustin flew by.

"I'm never going to hear the end of that now," said Dustin with a chuckle to himself as he signaled Dante to fly over the part of the battlefield with all the action.

They'd long lost sight of the other three men but Dustin supposed that they'd flown a good way off in their aerial battle. For now, the two men took passing flights over the coastal strip, watching the battle unfold beneath them.

And it was far from pretty.

"Damnit, Jack, you have to get some more men down there," grumbled Dustin. "Or we're going to lose this fight!"

*****

For several moments, Greg was sure he was dead.

The wall of flames engulfed the tank, and the armored vessel groaned at the force of the blast. Smoke poured from inside, causing the crew to cough heavily as they tried to escape.

They were alive though. The hit had taken out the engine but it hadn't killed them.

"We have to get out of here," said Greg with several heavy coughs. "Get out of the tank!"

One by one, the crew pulled out of the smoke-filled interior, emerging on the green grass beneath their feet. It was no respite from the fighting though, as Greg quickly had to draw his pistol to take out several Swabians that had gotten too close.

In fact, the Swabians were swarming the Allied tanks now. Greg watched with horror as one tank after another was disabled through the use of Swabian sticky bombs, their crews mowed down as they tried to escape.

It was too late at this point. Too many Allied tanks had been lost. If Greg didn't pull back now, none of them would survive the battle.

Only with some reluctance did he grab his radio. "Pull back," he yelled into it, still coughing up the smoke in his lungs. "Pull back before it's too late!"

Many of them never received the final call. Those that did were a small minority of the original force. They were battered and bruised and they soon began to limp back to the main camp of the Allies.

The battle was all but over.

*****

"Our tanks are pulling back," said Art as he took the radio call. "There were too many Swabian tanks and they overwhelmed us. Swabian soldiers are steadily pushing back our position."

"Fuck!" yelled Jack as he stared at the map. The situation was getting too tenuous. The sun was starting to set, and the Swabians had shown no sign of giving up the fight.

It was just the opposite. They kept pressing forward with everything they had. Jack's army had made them pay a terrible price for all the ground they'd taken but the Swabians just kept coming. By this point, Jack was certain that the reinforcements from the north had joined the small forces down south, which meant that his army was now outnumbered.