Frontlines: Allied Assault (IC/See OOC to Join)

[Independent States of Tula]

Frontlines: Allied Assault

OOC | Sponsored By CAS Region

Top Left, Battle Plan for Fedala.

Orders

1. 1st Battalion/60th Infantry Regiment will have 1st Company/1st Battalion/66th Armored Regiment attached to its structure to provide Armor support. 2nd Battalion/60th Infantry will have 2nd Company/1st Battalion/66th Armored attached. 3rd Battalion/60th Infantry will have 3rd Company/1st Battalion/66th Armored attached.

2. 1st Battalion/60th Infantry and 1st Company/1st Battalion/66th Armored will land on Beach Red 2 at 0400 hours.

3. 2nd Battalion/60th Infantry and 2nd Company/1st Battalion/66th Armored will land on Beach Red 2 at 0400 hours.

4. 3rd Battalion/60th Infantry and 3rd Company/1st Battalion/66th Armored will land on Beach Red 3 at 0400 hours.

5. 2nd Battalion/60th Infantry and 2nd Company/1st Battalion/66th Armored will be tasked with assaulting the southern half of Fedala and holding it.

6. 1st Battalion/60th Infantry and 1st Company/1st Battalion/66th Armored will be tasked with assaulting the Northern Half of Fedala, assaulting and disabling the four French 100mm Gun Batteries located on the Northern tip of town, pushing off from the Batteries in Fedala and assaulting and taking Cap de Fedala where they will seize and disable the two French 75mm Gun Batteries facing Red and Blue beaches as well as seize Fedala's Oil Reserves.

7. 3rd Battalion/60th Infantry and 3rd Company/1st Battalion/66th Armored will be tasked with moving behind 1st Battalion/60th Infantry to act as reinforcements and to hold the Northern half of Fedala.

OOC: You may now begin posting the initial landings, the French 75mm Guns will be firing on our positions as we land so I suggest moving south before swinging West as you try to find positions suitable for the assault into Fedala. The codeword to begin assault on Fedala will be "Black Bear" which I will post soon after we all land.

[Camainia]

OOC: You may now begin posting the initial landings, the French 75mm Guns will be firing on our positions as we land so I suggest moving south before swinging West as you try to find positions suitable for the assault into Fedala. The codeword to begin assault on Fedala will be "Black Bear" which I will post soon after we all land.

OOC: What is meant by "You may now begin posting the initial landings", or for that fact, when the landings will begin?
I have read "How it Works & Gameplay" and think I have the general Idea of how to do this.

[Independent States of Tula]

OOC: You may now begin posting the initial landings, the French 75mm Guns will be firing on our positions as we land so I suggest moving south before swinging West as you try to find positions suitable for the assault into Fedala. The codeword to begin assault on Fedala will be "Black Bear" which I will post soon after we all land.

OOC: What is meant by "You may now begin posting the initial landings", or for that fact, when the landings will begin?
I have read "How it Works & Gameplay" and think I have the general Idea of how to do this.

OOC: As it says in the Orders we're landing at 0400 Hours on our beaches, just post the landing of your forces and you moving to find positions out of the line of sight of the 75mm Guns targeting the beach, after we all get off the beach we'll be swinging west to hit Fedala and seize it from the enemy along with Cap de Fedala in the case of 1st Battalion.

[Camainia]

OOC: So I just... I say that I landed and give what I want to try to accomplish?

[Independent States of Tula]

OOC: So I just... I say that I landed and give what I want to try to accomplish?

OOC: Pretty much, I'm not going to go full on game mode until we get to Fedala itself since that would be too mean. I think no one's getting off the beach without a scratch but to wipe out half of us to a bad dice roll right off the bat would be unfair...we'll save the horrifying losses for Fedala.

[Camainia]

Adube Moz'bok:
My platoon's landing vessels had just landed, and although we were the first on the beach, there was relatively moderate fire. Regardless, it was fire, and I had to get my men to safety. After finding a bank to shelter behind from enemy machine gun fire, I viewed the battlefield as it lay before me. About 100 Yards in front of me, there was a gentle slope up to a nest with a few gunners in it, hammering down on our position. "Its just like command to send us blacks in first, ain't it Sir," hollered a Sargent, glaring back at the ocean, where numerous more landing craft had hesitated to move forward. "What the hell is taking them so long?" I asked aloud.
Returning back to the matter at hand, I used my binoculars to view the next bank ahead. A second nest was to our south-west, about 150 yards, and the next bank in front of us was about 50 yards ahead- close enough to get some accurate fire down on the nest ahead. 'Might as well make the rest's job easier' I thought to myself.

I ordered 2 Regular Quads to sprint forward to the next bank to clear the way to the nests, while leaving the other 2 Squads, Myself, and my Command Squad to lay down covering fire, particularly the Gunners.
Urging my men on, I watched anxiously as my first real combat experience unfolded before my eyes. How many men could I send to their deaths before it was my turn?

[Argentumurbem]

1st Platoon, 2nd Company, 1st Battalion

The sea-spray of the ocean was like a lover's caress. Refreshingly cold water dripped down his face, forming a thin layer between his skin and the overbearing wrath of the sun. Looking back at the ranked column of his men, bodies braced against the sway of their assault craft, the lieutenant called out to them.

"What are we?"

"Soldiers."

The words and phrases had been drilled in to them since passing basic. If they were to have a warcry, it would be taken from a dozen of their mindless call outs. The men were too well trained for it to make much difference to them, but it still made a good impression on the transport's driver.

"Who are we?"

"Soldiers."

"What do soldiers do?"

"They fight."

It wasn't so much shouted or cheered as rumbled, like the echo of a giant's tread. Nervous grins broke out like a rash among the platoon as they realized how bad it actually sounded. Mr Weave grinned back, a feral look on his face.

"What do we do?"

"We win."

"We march."

"We win."

"We fight."

"We win."

"We kill."

"We win."

The rise and fall of the craft fell in sync with the call of the soldiers, as if even Poseidon chose to say it with them.

"We die."

"We win."

"Do we die?"

"No."

"Do we lose?"

"No."

"Do we live?"

"We live."

"We live."

"We kill."

"We win."

"We win."

The transport heaved up on to the beach, assault ramp easing down to allow the occupants to charge forward. Hitting the nearest sand dune in front of them, 1st Platoon spread themselves out along a thin stretch of land.

"We are gonna need to move further south sir!"

"Yes," went the instant reply. Speed was key here. No hesitation. "Sergeant Daniels! We are pushing south! 2nd Squad lead the way!"

French gunfire was fairly sporadic upon 1st Platoon's position, owing to the fact that much of 2nd company had already deployed. The sprawled corpses of young men bore silent testimony to the defense's attention. With barely enough time to ensure that the men had reached the line, Luke gestured forward.

[Myraxia]

04:00
Bay of Fedala

Second Lieutenant Benjamin Garner, commanding 2nd Platoon, 1st Company, 1st Battalion of the 66th Armored Regiment, slammed the hatch down on his M4A2(76)W as the LCT Mk.5 approached Beach Red 2. Slipping his headset on, he hit the transmit button on the radio with his spare hand. "All vehicles, this is Garner. One minute, guys. Good luck out there! Over."
The voice of Technical Sergeant Kai Fletcher, his second in command, came back over the static-filled link. "Copy that, sir. Iron Vengeance, standing by! "
Further voices followed Fletcher's; "Behemoth, standing by. "
"Throwback, standing by. "
Garner flicked the transmit switch again. "Copy all. Prepare for landing, 30 seconds! "

As the LCT hit the beach, the ramp lowered revealing the men of 1st and 2nd Company fighting their way up the beach. Tracks grinding, the tanks of 2nd Platoon rumbled down the ramp and into the surf, 30. caliber machine guns opening up on the dug in French infantry scattered across the beach. Incoming rounds from the MG positions at the top of the beach pinged off the hulls of the Sherman tanks as the French gunners desperately tried to eliminate this new threat.
Peering through his scopes, Garner spotted a platoon of infantry recently landed making their way off the beach, headed south away from the killing field. He reached down, banging on the inside of the turret to get his driver's attention. "That way! " He indicated the way the infantry were headed. Standing back up into the turret, he flicked the transmit switch. "All vehicles, we're getting off this beach. Follow my lead, over. "
A chorus of affirmative replies came back when he released the switch.

2nd Platoon made their way south from the beach, pushing through the french defenses.

[South Donese Union]

Glen despised sailing, possibly sprouting from an incident involving himself, the sail and the sea from his youth, but he hated it nonetheless. Now, throw machine guns and 75mm guns into the mix, and you have Glen's least favourite thing to do, however he knew that the men in his LC depended upon him to maintain his coolness so that if it went to the shit, they'd have a calm voice to guide them through it. He cleared his throat and began to speak;

"Three-Halves Platoon. A dumb name isn't it?" he asked, receiving a few nods in return "Well, you know how we make them scared of dumb names?" he asked, leaving a pause before resuming "We teach the fuckers who they should fucking afraid of, and make them scared to hear the name of Three-Halves!" he shouted, with the LC erupting in cheers "Now lets teach the Froggies that Three-Halves Platoon should be the scariest Platoon they encounter in this entire Theatre of War!" he added, with more cheers erupting "Three-Halves, lets get ready to hit this beach and take this fucking town!"

"30 seconds!"
"20 seconds"
"10 seconds!"
"5 seconds!"
"GO! GO! GO!" The conductor screamed as the gates dropped open, with a sea of armed and yelling soldiers streaming forth from it.

"Hit the fucking streets!" Glen called before sprinting onto the concrete paths of Fedala, listening closely to the patter of his men following suite. "Alright lads, our job is to take this shit pit and keep it. From the looks of the other landings" he paused, looking along the Red Beaches "The French don't want us here, so we'll have to make sure they lose to us" he added, with a grin. From the looks of things, they'd hit Beach Yellow and sprinted west towards the town. Glen raised his rifle "Alright lads, 2nd Fireteam, take point." he ordered, before moving through the town "I want defensive positions inside the houses" he added, breaking down the door and quickly firing at the French occupant and pressing deeper into the house.

[Independent States of Tula]

November 8th, 1942, Second Lieutenant Asher Stein, 1st Platoon/1st Company/1st Battalion/60th Infantry Regiment...

"30 SECONDS!!!" Came the call of the landing craft's operator as they approached Beach Red 2.

The sounds of French gun batteries and machine-guns was audible even from where Second Lieutenant Asher Stein was in the rocking craft still yards away from the beach. Turning to his men the Second Lieutenant saw their fear in their eyes as they readied for their first taste of combat...the time for training had ended and now American soldiers were about to enter the war for the first time.

"10 SECONDS!!!"

"God help us all." Asher asked no one as he turned to the exit ramp.

"GO, GO, GO!!!" The ramp dropped and the time to fight had come.

Charging off the ramp with M1 Garand in hand while it was still covered in plastic to keep it from getting soaked and inoperable Asher watched the scenes in front of him as if they were in slow motion. Off to his right a French machine-gun cut down two of his men from second squad while a 75 caught six men from third squad in a plum of sand and blood.

"EVERYONE OFF THE BEACH!!! WE'RE DEAD HERE! KEEP MOVING UP!" Asher shouted to the men behind him as he kept running forward.

Nearing the edge of the beach Asher spotted a machine-gun nest behind some sandbags off to his left and he ordered "Get a grenade off in there! Silence that gun for the next waves!"

Seconds later a the Radio Operator was under the gun while cooking a Mk 2 behind the sandbags the gunners were using for cover, two seconds after pulling the pin the radio operator tossed it over his head into the machine-gun nest and after a shout of surprise in french the grenade when off and silenced the MG nest permanently. With that obstacle gone 1st Platoon pushed south off the beach and out of the 75mm Guns' sight. Finding cover where they could First Platoon waited for the order to push forward towards Fedala. Asher could only hope it was soon before those two 75s turned their attention off the beach.

OOC: Alright, just waiting for the few others who haven't posted yet before the code word is given, either that or it'll come in tomorrow so prepare yourselves for the RNG to begin its deadly work.

[Iryllia]

04:00, LCT Mk. 5.
Bay of Fedala

"Right, Thirty seconds. Get read all." The landing craft rocked unpleasantly as it wallowed in the waters leading up to the beach. The ramp slammed down, sending out spray ten meters in every direction and the Tanks of Second Platoon, Second Company rolled out onto the beach.

"Red Four, keep an eye on those guns. Two, Three, HE Those rifle pits." Ryan peered through the periscopes. The beach was vividly light by tracer fine, the odd flash and crump of the French guns. Shots sounded like rain impacting a tin shed from inside the hull. He thumbed the intercom, "Jackson, HE that gun nest up the rise. Smith, get us up and off this beach. O'Donnell, keep their heads down." A chorus of "Aye sir!" met his orders with the Thunk! of the main gun firing, the Dakka! Dakka! Dakka! of the hull-mounted MG. Ryan grinned, the smell of gun-smoke and sweat, he could taste it, the smell of a well oiled crew. Snatching the radio Ryan spoke, "All tanks. Forward off this beach!"

The five tanks, red chevrons painted on their turrets, moved into an arrowhead formation. Trundling forwards with the infantry nipping at their heels as they spat fire into the French defences. Punching through the thin French line. Leaving the main bunkers haemorrhaging flames and others their guts exposed to the sky. The infantry dealt with the rifle pits, grenades were exchanged by both sides as the Tanks trundled onwards. Down south, past the now smoking defences and off the beach.

[Camainia]

Adube Moz'bok
2nd Platoon, 2nd Company, 1st Battalion

I was surprised at the speed and ferocity of my men, hastily storming the beaches and, with no fatalities, took the forward nests, captured a few Frenchies, and had secured a good part of the beach ahead. What had not been captured were running, perhaps to join defenses further inland, perhaps to assist their comrades further down south of the beaches.
With the Minor Ocean Road secured, ditches had been filled with my men, waiting for a counter attack. When none came, I figured the other Battalions would handle this part of the beach, and I ordered my Platoon to assist in the Assault on Fedala. Up ahead was some of the 1st Company, fighting what was left of the beach defenses down that way, those who weren't engaged filing up behind tanks and moving south. To the north were the French Guns at Cherqui, but that wasn't my job. Then again, neither was fighting up to the road. Nevertheless, I would leave our position to go support the Armored and Infantry already a ways down the beach.
"Radio, has command given the order to assault Fedala?"
"No sir"
Being that Command had not given any further orders, and the previous order simply being to clear the beaches for the way to Fedala, I suppose there was nothing to do but assist the others.
"Alright men, lets move on! Sargent,"
"Yessir?"
"I want you to take two squads and follow behind me; clean up anything left behind."
"And what of the prisoners, sir?"
I took a glance at the bloodied faces of men, men who, if released, would surely kill others if given the chance. They would be too much of a burden to guard or take with us, but I didn't want to just outright kill them...
I chuckled a bit upon considering my solution;
"Take the rear squad and lock them in a landing craft." To which the rest of my men had a good laugh as well.
Jokes were unnecessary when men were dying, so I ordered the rest of us to move on.

[Iryllia]

04:25, Beach.
Bay of Fedala

The air smelled crisp. Or at least, better than it did inside a sweat box of a tank. Rough around the edges with the smell of smoke and exhaust fumes. That and his own reek. He was a northerner, all the way down here in hot confined space wasn't exactly his natural environment.
His five tanks were drawn up on the main road leading towards Fedala. Maybe a couple of kilometres distant, Ryan was up and out, upper torso sticking out the commanders hatch of the tank like a tree. His radio hissed into his ear, reports from the various other commanders of other units as they progressed. His crew ere chatting idly, joking and making bets. The current running was on whether Red 3's gunner, who was a notoriously bad shot, would actually hit anything of note. Something like Three days of rations and twenty bucks was on Three's gunner continuing his unlucky streak he'd had going on for as far as they knew, his entire life.

Ryan chuckled to himself. The French line on the beech had been... Sub-par to his worst fears. Despite the fact they weren't supposed to be fighting them at all, but Army Intelligence is an oxymoron. They're bound to fuck things up. He sighed, listening to the back wash of combat that still echoes from the breech head...
"Black Bear, I say again. The word is Black Bear." The Radio crackled suddenly loud in his ear. Snapping Ryan from, his reverie. He shook his head. Cueing the squad channel, dropping back down inside the tank, taking the hatch down with him. "All right, Black Bear is a go. Lets move down south to Fedala. Be on the look out, Red Two, you're on point."
"You heard the man gentlemen." Jackson chuckled. "Let's get a move on..."

The Five tanks began to roll down the road. Towards whatever fate awaited them in Fedala, to which Ryan was sure would be nothing like the beach.

[Independent States of Tula]

November 8th, 1942, Second Lieutenant Asher Stein, 1st Platoon/1st Company/1st Battalion/60th Infantry Regiment...

"SIR!" Corporal Wade Higgins, the radio operator called out from behind his rock to Asher over the sound of battle, he was only a few feet away from Asher and he still had to yell to be heard over the 75s and French guns.

Asher looked over to the man and called back "WHAT?"

"THEY JUST GAVE THE CODE WORD! BLACK BEAR!" Wade yelled back.

Asher took a deep breath and peeked out from behind the rock at Fedala before recoiling after a shot hit his cover and sent a spray of sand, dust, bits of rock, and the broken remains of the bullet up from where the bullet hit the rock. Cursing himself mentally Asher got up and ran the few feet needed over to the radio operator, he ducked down behind the rock beside Wade and checked to make sure he wasn't hit.

"Jesus, you're one lucky bastard, Sir." Wade stated.

"Yeah, I am...alright, I need to use your radio and get an order to our squads." Asher replied, Wade got on his side with his back and the radio towards Asher.

Grabbing the radio and setting it for the squads' frequency Asher picked up the phone-like receiver and gave this order "Platoon, this is Second Lieutenant Stein. Listen up, I want the 1919 covering us all and giving our squads suppressing fire on those French bastards, we're going to stay in the Northernmost areas of Fedala, almost hugging the coast as we go clearing houses of the Frenchies. Use smoke to conceal your approach into town but don't use it all, we might need it with assaulting the guns later because there'll be less cover the closer we get to them outside of town. Alright, go now."

The M1919 opened up finally, hitting French positions within the town that had been firing on Asher's position, this in addition to the smoke from the smoke canisters that squad leaders and some soldiers had thrown created an almost perfect opportunity to cross open ground towards the French positions. As Asher's platoon moved up he could only hope the French kept their heads down and their shots inaccurate if his platoon would have a chance getting into town.

OOC: Others in 1st Battalion can feel free to add to the smoke/cover fire and join the crossing. It improves all of our chances if we work together (as long as of course we're grouped together as far as armor and infantry).

[Argentumurbem]

Black Bear, crackled the radio. Black Bear.

"The word is given!" he called out to the men within earshot. "Sergeant Kristen, you and 4th squad have the front! We are moving on the town men!" Gesturing towards the squat dwellings to their south, the lieutenant called out to the former vanguard of the platoon. "Daniels, you have the left flank, keep the heat off of 4th as much as you can!

"You got it sir!" Sergeant Daniels of 2nd Squad replied before turning back to his men.

"You heard the lieutenant! 4th Squad forward. Andrew Kristen was a no nonsense leader, disliked by his men off of the field but now under fire Luke could see that those former farmboys listened to every word coming from his mouth like gospel.

Black Bear. A good omen.

"Radio 3rd Platoon. Let them know that we will be sitting on their right the whole time."

His radioman acknowledged the order with a blank face, concentrating on opening up the necessary signal.

1st Platoon had curved south since landing on the beaches, 2nd Squad moving straight forward which the rest of the unit gravitated to the right. As such, when the codeword came spluttering across the radiowaves, Sergeant Daniels and his men found themselves anchoring the link between 1st Platoon and their opposites in 3rd Platoon. With the enemy now to their south, 4th Squad took over the lead. 3rd Squad held their right while 1st was hugging their rear, a bar linking the two squads together. And linking 2nd squad to 4th was the Command Squad.

The squads advanced in three sections. Team One was the squad leader and three riflemen. Team Two was the assistant leader and three riflemen. In between them, offering up as much supporting fire as possible, was the BAR Team, machine-gunner, his second, and the ammo-carrier. This allowed a third of the squad to move with the support of the rest, a systematic strategy which allowed for the fluid movement of men while retaining the firepower necessary for driving the enemy in to cover. There was no need for heroics in 1st Platoon, 2nd Company. They knew what was needed of them.

[Camainia]

OOC: Others in 1st Battalion can feel free to add to the smoke/cover fire and join the crossing. It improves all of our chances if we work together (as long as of course we're grouped together as far as armor and infantry).

OOC: I'll post soon, but I'm just waiting for the numbers to start rolling...

[Greater Liverpool]

The uneasiness of the waves did not help with the moral of troops, we where the last troops on the beach thanks to our landing craft messing up 2nd Platoon where forced to stay behind and joined the last assault wave. By this time, the roar of explosive shells and dead bodies turned the calm waters into choppy seas. 2nd Lieutenant Mckeena stud at the front of his landing craft showing his men they should not be afraid of what is ahead. He turned round facing his men, his M1 Garand thrown over his shoulder onto his back. He spoke calmly "Men listen in. Today we start something new, we start the downfall of Adolf Hitler and his German Reich. I know many of you don't want to be here fighting the Germans but be in Asia getting back at the Japs for Peral. But what you do from here onward to the end of the war will be echoed in history. So I ask of you this do what any soldier would do." He placed his hand on the shoulder of a nearby soldier "remember your training and listen to me and we will get through this war. Hurrah!"

"Hurrah!" The men let out a mighty roar as they readied themselves for the beginning of their war.

"50 Seonds" shouted the Driver of the landing craft.

"Ready boys. Remember MGs I want to see start to lay down suppressive fire on any French that remain. Squad 2 are on me and the support team we are after the bunkers. 1 and 3 find and destroy any rifle pits and machine gun nests. Mortar you know what to do." David commanded

"20 seconds, safety's off" David turned around placed his rifle in front of him and readied for the ramp to drop. The men of 2nd Platoon braced themselves clutching their weapons, they watched for David to run. The Ramp dropped. "Move, Now" David ordered leading with his left foot of the landing craft.

Chaos had begun. The men of 2nd Platoon seeing dead comrades around them continued to run forward. The Mortar team set up and began to send explosives down upon the enemy. However a bunker had spotted David and his men running and a French Machine gun opened fire upon his men. They jumped to the ground hoping a small bank in front of them blocked the machine guns view. "Machine gunners I need that suppression, support team put some lead into the bunker. 1 and 3 take out those pits now" pointing to a group of French riflemen in a trench. "Let's go! Now!" David crouched up and start to fire at the bunker as it became heavily suppressed by gun fire. Squad 2 led by Staff Sargent Russell moved up to take out the bunker. "Sir, we have got code black bear. I say again code black bear."

"Then let's clear the fucking Beach" David shouted across to the radio man. At the bunker he saw SSgt throw in a frag into the bunker, it exploding before himself emptying a clip of his Thompson into the bunker. He signalled David the bunker was clear, who then signalled his men to move up to the bunker. "Someone tell squad 1 and 3 to get over here now." David commanded.

[Raktio]

November 8, 1942
Fedala, Beach Red 2
04:0

Kinamsung pushed himself off from the wall and got ready. He knew that they were one of the later platoons to be landing, so much of the beach defenses had already been silenced. A explosion went off near enough to rock the boat, and already the sounds if gunfire was beginning to be overwhelming as cannons roared in the distance and machine guns rattled away.

He wasn't much of one for inspiring others, but being the Second Lieutenan of the men made him feel obligated to say something reassuring. Yelling over the background noise he hollered, "remember, as soon as the gate drops get to the beach and get down, and give them Hell!" Most of the men on board cheared and some pitched in their own two cents to boost moral. However as soon as the thirty second warning everyone went dead silent in anticipation.

The gate dropped, and the soldiers didn't even need him yelling "go go go" wading into the nearly thigh deep water, the platoon rushed forwards as fast as they could without tripping over, or losing their precious equipment, which included a M2 Machine gun. Hauling ass the unit got onto dry sand, and dropped down into army crawling.

Unfortunately there was a pillowbox not to far off, and some of the machine gunners turned their attention towards them. They were to far out to do much of anything since they didn't have their M2 ready for use at the moment. Most of them had made good cover by the time the shooting got serious. They weren't under assault for long however, since another platoon dealt with the pillowbox. Now clear of obvious obstacles the platoon advanced on Kinamsung's command.

Once they were off the bloodstained beach, luckily without any casulties, they headed south to Fedala, spread out and wary of any Frenchies still hiding and ready to pounce.

[Torrocca]

1^st Lieutenant James C. Allen
1^st Platoon, 1^st Company, 2^nd Battalion, 60^th Infantry Regiment
Fedala, Morocco
November 8^th, 1942
Operation: TORCH

James looked around the landing craft he was aboard, and at the twenty three other men from his platoon that accompanied him. He began to shout to the men, "remember your orders, men! Don't shoot upon the French unless they fire first! We need to see if the French will fight with us instead of the Germans!" A small reply of "hooah!" from the various men made the uneasy Lieutenant a bit more ready for whatever was to come, whether it'd be mere silence or a full-fledged battle. He peaked over the starboard side of the landing craft, and noticed the platoon sergeant, Technical Sergeant Derrick Lexington, facing him but looking back at his group and shouting apparently inspirational words to them, as they responded with a loud, much more faithful "hooah!" Lexington looked towards Allen at last, and merely nodded to him, in a manner that reassured the combat-inexperienced Lieutenant that everything would go well for them. The Lieutenant in turn nodded back to the experienced soldier.

The landing craft suddenly shook violently, and Allen turned back to see one of the men, a Private fresh out of boot camp, vomit into the craft. Another grasped his shoulder and asked, "hey, Dallas, you alright?" The boy replied, "yeah... yeah... just sea sickness... damn these... waves... what?" He began to slow his words as he, as well as the others, heard the distant hum of a few engines, the same engines owned by planes. The men in the craft began to look up and around, until one man screamed and pointed, "INCOMING!" Instinctively, as the first sounds of fire from the attacking fighters were heard, the men ducked into the boat, disregarding the disgusting bodily fluids inside. Allen gripped his helmet tightly and shook slightly as shells slammed into the exterior of the craft, threatening to puncture the hull and shred the men inside. Fortune, however, seemed to be on their side, as no one in the craft was injured or killed.

The same story of fortune could not be spoken for the men of the other boat. A lucky shot found its way into a soldier, tearing through both sides of his body and killing him instantly. The first thing that even alerted Allen to this fact was the cry of another blood-spattered soldier, who shouted, "Collins is hit! Collins is down!" Allen couldn't make out what was happening inside of the ship, as the shouting died down shortly thereafter. He was distracted, instead, by the cry of the boat driver, who called out to the men, "thirty seconds to landing!" The men, who were shaken by the shouts from the other vessel, turned their attention to the ramp, which remained raised up still. They stayed low as the landing craft came closer and closer to shore.

A whistle signaled the lowering of the ramps, and the men began to storm out of the two boats, under enemy fire. Cannons from Fedala fired on the battalion's position, tearing apart the landing zone with HE shells. A few machine guns from distant pillboxes fired at the advancing men, forcing them to take cover. Lieutenant Allen and a couple of others, including one of the two platoon's gunners, took cover behind a large boulder near the beach. Others sought shelter behind other rocks and stones, or just mere pieces of land that inadequately shielded them from the gunfire and not at all from the explosions.

The few men by Allen began to panic slightly, shouting, "sir, what are our orders?!", "sir, we gotta get off this beach!", "we're sittin' ducks here, Lieutenant!" "Lieutenant, third squad is radioing in, si-" Allen abruptly stopped their ramblings when he yelled back to them, "I KNOW! I KNOW!" He paused and took a deep breath, then twisted his body and looked back, calling over to the platoon's signaler and said, "Corporal Hill! What's going on with fourth squad?" "They're pinned down with barely any cover, sir! Those machine guns are ripping them to pieces!" Hill wasn't lying: over the radio, which was a few men away from Allen, he could hear the screams of men getting shot, and the ferocity of gunfire and explosions, both from the radio and from the right flank of the platoon.

"... Alright, alright! Here's what we're going to do!" James began to shout, adjusting his helmet and wiping sand from his gun, "first and second squads and the machine gun team are gonna provide covering fire for third squad and the bazooka team! Carter!" He continued on, pointing to the nearby gunner, who looked at him with a look of awe on his face as another shell exploded into the coarse sand only a few meters away. "Carter, get up to a decent firing position! Take Crews and Alvarez with you!" "YES SIR!" the gunner hastily replied, rising to a crouched position and yelling, "c'mon guys! Let's move!" The three-man team moved out, taking light fire that luckily missed them as they reached a firing position. Meanwhile, Hill began to shout into the radio.

Within seconds, the beach lit up with a chorus of gunfire, as rifles and machine guns screamed back at the French positions, pinning down the men in the pillboxes. From the right, some movement caught the Lieutenant's interest, who watched as the bloodied men from third squad began to race forward into better cover away from the beach. A couple of men were being dragged to cover, one of whom was dragged by the platoon's second combat medic. Allen had finally got his first real taste of combat, and he already hated it as he watched allied soldiers soaked in blood struggle across the beachhead.

[Myraxia]

"Gunner, trenchline, 12 o'clock, 1 round HE. Fire! "
With a flat crump, the turret of the M4A2(76)W bucked as a high explosive shell whistled it's way into the dirt in front of a French trench, sending up a spray of sand and mud. "Fire again! "
The tanks of 2nd Platoon were making their way up beach Red 2, covering the infantry as they advanced. Their effectiveness was limited, though, as the 76 variant was built to deal with enemy tanks; it wasn't nearly as effective at infantry support. As Garner prepared to issue another fire order on a pillbox to their front right, his headset crackled. "All units, Black Bear. Repeat, Black Bear. "
He flicked the transmit button with his offhand, adjusting his mic with the other. "All vehicles, the word is given. Best speed up this beach, get us moving on Fedala. Garner out."
Deciding to risk it, Benjamin pushed open the turret hatch, standing up in the turret to grip the handles of the .50 on the roof. Glancing behind him to the infantry behind his vehicle, he waved them onwards as the driver gunned the engine.

[Greater Liverpool]

Lieutenant David McKenna
2nd Platoon, 1st company, 1st Battalion
Fedala, Morocco
November 8th, 1942

The remaining men from the rest of the platoon rallied on David behind the bunker. "Alright we now have some cover men. Time to give you a report. We now have the God ahead to move on and take Fedala, however I want to clear out the rest of the bunkers and support the rest of the company on the beach. 2 squad with support of the mortar and MG will cover out front make sure they don't try and flank us or support their men. Understand" Lieutenant McKenna said. Everyone nodded their heads. David looked down the to see some soldiers ready to move to the next bunker. "Move!" The first soldier turned round and was instantly shot through the chest and began to bleed profoundly. "Medic" a Private shouted before two men dragged the limp of the body back behind cover. The medic quickly rushed over and tried his best to keep the dying boy alive. "Getting some suppressing fire down before we move our they will have us pinned" Sargent Gatsby echoed with his voice. A couple of men quickly started to fire upon a group of French soldiers. David quickly sprinted across towards the next bunker 5 men following him.

David grabbed one of grenades pulled the pin out and threw it through a small window into the bunker, he quickly hit the ground and counted "3,4,5." A explosion rocked the bunker "clear it out now" the five men now moved round to the rear and entered the bunker.

"Clear!" Some of the men shouted as they check the room but some gunfire was heard as a couple of French soldiers survived. McKenna ran to the front of the bunker and signalled the rest of the company that the bunker is clear and secure. The remaining men who were still at the other bunker sprinted towards over and past towards the next bunker. "Sargent Gatsby I want the rest of the company safely behind some cover. Come on we need to move to Fedala." David ordered

[BlazingAngel]

Lieutenant Vincent
3rd Platoon, 3rd Company, 1st Battalion
Fedala, Morrocco
November 8, 1942

The sweet salt air of the breeze filled Vincent nostril as he looked up from the floor of the landing craft to the men in front of him, his men, as the boat their riding is taking them to shore. Many of the men are seasick as hell as they began puking, vomit spilling out of their mouth onto the floor. They are part of the 2nd wave coming in but Vincent was mad as he didn't get to be part of the first wave. Surely that the first wave had taken out most of the enemy on the beach.

"30 second!" the boat of the driver yelled!

"Alright, listen up!" Vincent began to tell his men as the sound of gunfire filled the air, "Keep those action clear. Don't bunch up once we hit the ground. I'll see you on the beach."

"Sir," a voice called next to him.

Vincent turned and see First Sergeant John Warwick hanging on to the side on the railing as he spoke, "Surely will the French attack?"

"You'll know when they shoot you," Vincent reply then yelled at his men, "Keep those safety off. Once the ramp goes down, dash for cover!"

There were occasional nods as the landing craft launch forward, indicating that they run ground.

The ramp dropped with Vincent shouting, "Go! Go!". There were rifle fire shooting from the slope on the other side of the beach as they run for cover. A soldier in front of Vincent was hit in the chest and dropped as Vincent jumped over him and took cover behind a steel railing.

Warwick landed next to him as he yelled, "What our rallying point!"

Another soldier dropped next to him, Corporal Corrion, and pointing toward the slope, "There a opening right there. Maybe we can get through it."

With the opening of that point, the platoon, as well as other units, made a dash for it and began attacking upward, firing and running at the same time. With 3 dead and time 2 wounded, they clear the slope and began attacking other positions. Vincent had time to turn around and spotting an LCT coming in with a Sherman Tank. Right when the ramp dropped, a 75 mm shell punched through the side armor and the tank exploded.

"There it is, 9'o'clock!" a Private shouted where a bunker was at, firing a 75 mm shells at other tanks that were coming into the beach.

"What the hell are we waiting for? Let get 'em!" another private shouted.

Vincent has respect for the men of his platoon, but was in despair at the one he has lost while coming into the beach. He promise all of them that he will safely lead them and return them home, now they're on the blood-soaked sand..

As his platoon were moving in, another shell came in from the west, not at the tanks on the beach but at the men that were attacking the bunker, and hit the lead man, blowing him into pieces while other were hit by sharpnels.

"INCOMING!" a soldier shouted as mortar shells hit all around them, inflicting casualties as men seek cover from the mortar fire.

Hiding behind a blown-out log, Warwick yelled at Vincent next to him, "I thought they'll said it'll be a piece of cake!"

"Shut up and try to get the line moving!" Vincent yelled back as he try to rally his troops.

3rd platoon is pinned down.