==News Bulletin==
Wynand News Network
22 March, 1730 Hours
We interrupt your normal broadcasting to bring you this breaking news.
Fighting erupted today at the United Republican Military Academy in New Etna. Several days ago, the Cadets of the URMA declared themselves to be in contention with the government of the United Republic and demanded the immediate enfranchisement of all military personnel. Today, President Sjorfreid authorized the use of military force to retake the Academy.
The initial assault was spearheaded by a brigade of the Army's Armored Corps. Yet they were stonewalled by a band of Cadets defending the Academy's main entrance, early this morning.
It is believed that we have not seen the end of this tragic course of events, and as always, WNN will keep you well apprised of the situation as it develops.
I'm Katie Svernoff, signing off. We'll see you later tonight at our regularly scheduled broadcast.
Seven Days Earlier...
Office of the President, Carrey Building
City of New Etna, Zeiffelheim
15 March, 0945 Hours
"GODDAMNIT JOHN!" President Sjorfreid slammed his fist on his desk and knocked back the rest of his glass of brandy, "They're a bunch of damn students," he said, his voice heavy with disdain.
"Technically Sir," Grand Admiral Reicher corrected him, "They're Cadets."
"I don't give a damn what they are!" Sjorfreid practically shouted, "they have no right to shut down the Academy! They're soldiers, until their terms are up, they have no rights at all!"
"Sir," Reicher's voice remained calm and even, "Many of those Cadets are in the process of completing AESOF or Commando training, they've earned--"
"Damnit John! Until they've either retired or died, they haven't earned a goddamn thing!"
Reicher bowed his head ever so slightly, and softly he spoke, "The Brian Sjorfreid I fought with would've been at a man's throat for saying a thing like that."
"What did you say?" Sjorfreid's voice lowered dangerously. A few tense moments hung in the air, "I said, what did you say?"
"I said you're not the Marine I used to know. And you're not the man I voted for as President."
"To hell with you John!" Sjofreid stood from his chair, thrusting his finger at the other man, "To hell with you and your self-righteous bullshit. I'm a politician. Damnit, I'm the President, I'm the politician. So fuck me for doing my damn job, huh? Fuck me!"
Reicher snapped smartly to attention, his heels clacking together sharply, "Your orders, Mr. President?" He spoke coldly, his gaze locked a perfect six inches above Sjorfreid's head.
The President stared into his old friend's eyes, but they were locked firmly in the distance, "Very well then," Sjorfreid sighed, "Retake the Academy," Reicher saluted and about-faced to march out of the room, "And then go fuck yourself. You're fired."
Reicher's stunned pause as he walked from the room was barely perceptible, but his mind was reeling. Never, in all his years, had he expected to even make the rank of Brigadier, and that was back when he had been in the Corps, let alone Grand Admiral of the Navy. Yet then, not in his darkest nightmares had he ever imagined that his last act of command would be to order an attack on his own nation's best and brightest youth.
Five Days Earlier...
United Republican Military Academy
City of New Etna, Zeiffelheim
17 March, 0645 Hours
"We should've had word by now," Cadet Captain Ian MacMilliard leaned forward over the conference table. Around the room stood the Academy's Cadet leadership, "But they haven't said a thing."
Cadet First Captain Lucas Grenley ran his hand through his hair, letting out a deep sigh, "Well...we know what that means then don't we?" He looked around at each of his fellow Cadets, "Sjorfreid doesn't plan on talking things over like an adult."
At that, a noticeable stillness enveloped the room, many of the Cadets shifted nervously, "Well," Grenley continued, "We figured as much, didn't we?" he received a number of nods and shrugs from around the room, "and that's why we prepared for it."
Grenley stepped back from the table, and headed toward the door, "We'll have to expect the absolute worst. Vizzen," he turned to the Dog Company commander, "have your men ready and deployed by midday. If they come at us, they'll be coming from the Northwest, down the main road out of New Etna. I'll reinforce you with the Striker Platoon as soon as they're prepped."
"You got it," Cadet Captain Vizzen nodded and turned to Warwick, his XO, to begin his preparations.
"Jorgen," Grenley continued, turning to another Cadet, "How's that Armor Brigade coming?"
"We've got most of the T-60's back online, and it just so happens that we've got a pair of 98's as well, but only one of 'em is mobile at the moment," Jorgen was fighting to hold back a grin, "the only thing we're lacking is Cadets to field them."
"Take whomever you need from Headquarter's company. Anyone who isn't S-3 or S-4, and leave me at least some upper-echelon S-2 guys as well. The rest of the staffs we can do without. I'd give you access to the whole corps, but we can't spare men from the line companies."
"Roger," Jorgen took off down the hall, calling to the other Cadets who'd already volunteered and been placed into his haphazard "Armored Brigade".
"Maurver, how's the Cadet Battery?"
"Locked and loaded, all eight triple-sevens are ready to go, and the mortar team has been attached to Dog Company for the time being."
"Good," Grenley nodded his head, "We'll give 'em one hell of a fight."
One Day Earlier...
United Republican Military Academy, Limit's Gates
City of New Etna, Zeiffelheim
Dog Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Regiment, URMA Corps of Cadets
21 March, 1625 Hours
"Been four fuckin' days we've been sitting out here, waitin' for the goddamn Republican Army to steamroll our asses," Cadet Private Fourth Class O'Kade spat into the rain-soaked mud, "why the hell don't they just get it over with?"
Carver, one of his roommates, laughed, "Probably cause you suck dick."
"Fuck you," O'Kade elbowed the other Cadet, "All I'm saying, is there isn't anyone at all who's under the delusion that they aren't going to whip our collective ass, so why the hell don't they just do it already?"
"I'm cold," whimpered Eriksson, another of their friends, "but it beats being dead."
"Dunno," O'Kade spat again, "I've never tried being dead. But I sure know wet and cold both suck."
One Day Earlier...
Rostoff Street
City of New Etna, Zeiffelheim
3rd Brigade Mechanized Infantry, 66th Armored Division
21 March, 1940 Hours
The rain was coming down in sheets, and it didn't look to be letting up any time soon.
"Dark weather for black work," Sergeant K'laan shook his head, "This is some mighty black work."
The men of Squad Four were not looking forward to what was about to happen. It had been decades since the Great Civil War, and more than twice that again since the Revolution. The last time shots had been fired within Zeiffelheim had been in the Rearden Uprising, and then it was only civil unrest, propagated by some disgruntled rebels living in the backwoods hills of the south, and only the Homeguard had really been involved in any fighting. The active military hadn't fired a single shot in anger on Zeiffelheimian soil in over half a century.
And now they were to roll into the URMA and forcibly wrest the Academy from the hands of its Cadets? There was not a single man among the 3rd Brigade, or even the entire 66th Division, who wasn't harboring second thoughts.
It wasn't as if the Cadets were the only ones who were disgruntled. In fact, the majority of the 3rd Brigade, and in fact a large portion of the military as a whole, sympathized with the Cadets. Yet at the same time, while there was a deal of empathy for them, not very many exactly agreed with their position. In particular, the upper echelons of command and the majority of NCOs. The Cadets cause was rather straightforward. In Zeiffelheim, in order to achieve one's citizenship, one must serve a term of at least two years within the military, and it is not until after that term that one is granted one's enfranchisement. After a number of costly and unpopular foreign wars, a certain faction within the military (specifically, the educated younger men. Those who had a degree of schooling, and yet were not yet career officers) became quite disillusioned. The junior officers of the military were growing restless, yet within the active ranks they were held in check by their senior officers and NCOs, career military men. Only within the United Republican Military Academy, an almost exclusively Cadet-run institution, were they able to garner enough momentum to do anything drastic.
On March 15, the URMA declared itself to be in a state of contention with the government of the United Republic of Zeiffelheim, and demanded that all military personnel be granted the right of franchise immediately.
On March 22, the government of the United Republic responded drastically.
United Republican Military Academy, Limit's Gates
City of New Etna, Zeiffelheim
Dog Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Regiment, URMA Corps of Cadets
22 March, 0633 Hours
"Hear that?" O'Kade nodded to Carver, and their foxhole grew quiet. Through the incessant sound of the rain, a faint rumbling could be heard, "About damn time."
"Steady on! Get on line Dog Co! Get on line!" The booming voice of their company first sergeant could be heard all up and down the company position, "Remember now! Let any armor roll past, Striker platoon is on that!"
Somehow, the rain picked up even more, from the far end of the line O'Kade heard someone shout, "Maddog!"
Through the haze of the falling rain, an advancing column of T-4 Saxons began to emerge. Mercifully, they were escorted not by T-100 MBTs, but rather only light T-13 IFVs. A T-100 would likely mean the end of Dog Co.
"LET THE SAXONS PAST!!" Cadet Lieutenant Warwick, Dog Co.'s XO, shouted over the rumble of the engines of the advancing APCs. The Cadets of Dog Company pressed themselves low into their foxholes as the vehicles rolled by. O'Kade began to tick off the seconds, waiting for Striker Platoon to attack. The moments seemed like ages. O'Kade met Eriksson's eyes, his own fear reflected sharply. He nodded, and through the rain and muck, he saw his friend and brother nod back with a sort of determination that bolstered his own courage.
Suddenly, an explosion tore through the air, and the sound of the deluge suddenly seemed soft and meek. It was followed by another blast, and another. The Striker Platoon, the Academy's contingent of AESOF (Army Elite Special Operations Force) trainees, was attacking the leading APCs with L-214 rockets (capable of taking down a heavy MBT), and inflicting severe casualties.
The entire armored column ground to a halt, unable to advance past the burning hulks of the other transports. Infantry began swarming out, and moving to assault through the area.
"MADDOG!!" Cadet Lieutenant Dottson, Dog Company's first platoon lieutenant, let out a roar and opened fire on the advancing infantrymen.
"MADDOG!!" with a yell the rest of the Company joined him. Suddenly, the raised embankments alongside the wide road running into the entrance erupted with fire, leveling a devastating barrage against the advancing Zeiffelheimian soldiers.
Years of training and experience kicked in, and the men of the 3rd Brigade of the 66th Armored Division instinctively went to ground and began to return fire. Unfortunately for them, the Cadets had the high ground and reinforced, dug-in positions. The Mechanized infantrymen were stuck in the open. Their APCs began to return fire, but T-4s are only very lightly armed. The T-13s on the other hand, began to pound the Cadets' positions with their .75cal cannons.
O'Kade squeezed off another shot, saw his target jerk from the impact, and ducked back into the foxhole to reload. Just as he'd pulled the clip from his M-18 the dirt berm where his head had just been exploded with the impact of a burst from one of the T-13s.
"Fuck!" He jammed another magazine into his weapon and thumbed the bolt release, savoring the satisfying jerk of the weapon as the bolt slammed home, "Get some fuckers!" He shouted, rolling back onto the berm to continue firing.
On the other side of the road, Cadet Samuel Emit yanked the pin from a grenade, stood, and let fly. But a trio of .75 caliber rounds turned him into a reddish mush before he could duck back into cover, splaying his friends with blood. The grenade detonated moments later with a satisfying crump, accompanied by the screams of wounded soldiers.
Field Marshall Storris was still recovering from the shock. He'd lost over a quarter of his brigade in less than five minutes. And to a rabble of Cadets!
"Fall back!" Sergeant K'laan shouted to his squad, "get to the Saxons!" With that he rose to a knee and fired his grenade launcher in the direction of the dug-in Cadets. The remaining men around him took off, running toward the nearest vehicle. The M-80 gunner stopped halfway and dove into the prone, unloading a barrage of suppressive fire to cover Sergeant K'laan. As he ran past he tapped the man on the shoulder, only to realize that he'd stopped firing when the bullet tore through his skull.
The men of the 66th Division's 3rd Brigade loaded back onto their APCs and began to withdraw.
Yet a number of their men were still trapped on the road, their T-4s destroyed by the Cadets' Striker Platoon. The survivors continued fighting briefly, but once they realized that Storris had given the order to retreat, they quickly surrendered.
The battle had started. The first day was coming to a close, and the Cadets still held the Academy.
In the battle the Cadets had suffered some casualties. Dog Company lost four men killed and three wounded. The Striker Platoon lost one man killed in action.
The 3rd Brigade Mechanized Infantry, 66th Armored Division, lost 68 men KIA, 39 men WIA, and 14 men captured. They also lost five T-4 Saxon APCs.
.gif)
