Stevidian forces begin withdrawal towards ports. Macabee forces pour over the border.
Komadánt Franc Sirigu's Lince was unlike any other tank he had commanded. Designed by Castilla y Belmonte's — an old territory of the First Empire, in Haven — Sistemas Terrestres Segovia (STS), the plans were appropriated by the Fuermak, making the Golden Throne the sole manufacturer (and user). Why would the country which had designed the Nakíl, the most exported tank in history, need to monopolize production of the Lince, a "foreign" design?1 Because this new tank was truly something special, optimized for tank killing, in a world where tank killing had become almost impossible as a result of the thick armor employed by most main battle tanks. Some might call the Lince a light tank, focusing on its dimensions, but they were wrong. It was meant to fight against the heaviest of the heaviest.
At 45.6 metric tonnes, the Lince was over 15 tonnes lighter than the Nakíl 1A2 — the Second Empire's other premier main battle tank. Neither did the former 103mm main gun seem to compare well with the Nakíl's 120mm cannon, although only a fool would judge the two on the surface. Indeed, the Lince was designed knowing the low probability of penetrating thick (post-)modern armor, and as such the 103mm CB-54 was designed to place two to three rounds in quick succession. Once the first sabot shattered the enemy's plates, the second and third rounds could penetrate with ease, shards of depleted uranium showering tank crews inside the confines of their steel coffin. Its weight and dimensions hid its survivability, too — some of the thickest armor in the world. Designers applied the same idea behind wedge turret armor to other parts of the hull, such as the glacis, to maximize the depth of the armor, while suffering only a minor weight penalty. Thus, the Lince resembles something of a bulldog: not too big, which gives it agility — its greatest advantage of all (probably the best in tactical and strategic mobility) —, with a lot of muscle. Another great advantage of a bulldog is that it's hard to hit.
Sirigu's armored battalion had had its Nakíl 1A1+ replaced by the Lince over five years ago — army wide, about 34,000 Nakíl 1A1+s were replaced by 7,500 Lince's (the reduction caused by the post-war demobilization). About 2,000 of the new tanks were on permanent deployment to Guffingford, but during the past months the armored deployment in the territory had gradually been increased (and production ramped up). 6,000 Lince's now populated the rolling hills and dark soils of the Guffingfordi countryside, along with 3,500 Nakíl 1A2s — the Golden Throne fielded dozens of thousands of these latter tanks, one of the top five tanks in the world (if not the very top), but very nearly put to shame by the Lince.
The komadánt's tank was perched on a height, overlooking into Stevidian Guffingford. Its small, unmanned turret — a volume ~34 percent smaller thank a conventional turret — would be almost impossible to see for even the most careful observer below. It was covered in camouflaged netting, which reduced its visibility even more. The gun was severely depressed, as if trained on targets below. But, Sirigu was really on a scouting mission, heading parallel to the frontier. The rest of three armored platoons, about 12 Linces total, were deployed to the rear, spread out and hidden behind whatever cover they could find. That was another great feature of the new tank, an unparalleled ability to ambush an advancing enemy unit.
Sirigu sat in the hull, focused on the display on his helmet, which was showing the feed from his periscope. He searched the coastal plains below him, looking for signs of life. Nothing, the battalion commander thought, where the hell did the Stevidians go?
While Macabee units were flowing out of Cartesia, the Holy Empire's SGUFFOR — Stevidian Guffingford Force — had begun a general withdrawal towards the port cities under their control. Few people deployed on the borderlines, at least on the Golden Throne's side, could explain what was going on. The time seemed ripe to begin advancing into Guffingford, but the thousands upon thousands of tanks, and other vehicles, as well as hundreds of thousands of soldiers, were restrained, held back. Those without direct links to the Fuermak — armed forces — High Command were in the dark, wondering what would happen next. Tensions were high on the border, after the Macabee mobilization, but it was mostly because very few people actually knew what was going on. Sirigu could include himself as one of those "out of the circle."
Continuing to scan the terrain below, the komadánt exhaled in frustration. Speaking to his gunner, sitting inside the hull beside him, he wondered, "Where did these guys go?"
"You really think they're setting up an ambush," asked Sargént Emil Gargón. "Since their withdrawal, their hasn't been any report of movement. I really don't think there's anything down there. The Stevidians are probably looking at us, from the ports, asking themselves what the hell we're doing, for all we know."
Sirigu's head moved in what looked like a half-nod, half-shake, replying, "All I know is that I don't know shit, and not knowing anything makes me nervous."
The lone Lince continued to sit on the commanding heights, its pack well hidden in the expanses behind the hill — waiting for their battalion commander's orders to move out, and continue on their scouting mission up the border. Sirigu, in turn, was waiting for orders from base. He had been told to wait here until further instruction, recently having left the depot about 10 kilometers back east. The instructions were rather cryptic, but the komandánt followed them, like a good soldier was supposed to. Below the hill, towards the direction the Lince's gun pointed, nothing moved. Not a soul was detected. A few kilometers further south there was a town, but even that locality was mostly abandoned — apart from the rare tractor. In fact, the town was thought to have been abandoned by the civilian population, as well, which might have moved south along with the bulk of the SGUFFOR. Just in case, the Ejermacht had a GF11, a quality unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV), designed for those kind of scouting missions. But, it found very little.
Sirigu suddenly saw an update warning on his display, and he slapped his gunner's right shoulder with the back of his hand, "New orders."
The komandánt read them out loud: "Column of three Nakíl battalions advancing south, on the Heemskerk road," — roughly 144 Nakíl 1A2s, and dozens of other vehicles, moving down a main highway that led more-or-less straight to Cerfontaine, a large harbor metropolis on the eastern coast of Guffingford — "to cross Guffingford divide." This last term referred to the border. Sirigu continued reading, "Screen column, on both flanks, until arriving to Bennekom," a smaller city between the border and Cerfontaine.
Sargént Gargón's eyes widened, as he looked at this commander, "Sir...we're moving into Stevidian Guffingford?"
"It looks so." Sirigu's right hand moved across his chest, in the form of a cross. This was the day Macabee forces in Stevid had waited such a long time for. The moment they had been trained to wait for. For eight years, Macabee and Stevidian forces stared back at each other, across the divide, even after the two sides had demilitirized the border to quite an extent. The order to move south had finally come. But, what made this occasion unexpected — so much so that Sirigu was more confused than anything else — was the lack of movement across the border: the apparent fact that Stevid had just, essentially, moved out of the way in Guffingford (very similar to Macabee forces in Cartesia, but Sirigu had not picked up on that similarity yet — at least, he made no connection [if there was one]).
The komandánt relayed the orders back to his unit, "Alright guys, we're moving out." Apart from the company with him, his battalion had another three companies awaiting him farther to the rear of the "front" — a Macabee battalion has roughly 48 tanks. "We're all heading to the Heemskerk highway. C Company, you'll stay on this side of the divide, awaiting further instruction. D company, you will cross the frontier with us, screening on the northern side. A and B, you guys will be with me, screening on the south. This is the rub, we have orders not to engage, unless engaged upon. So, hold your shit, men. I don't give a shit if it was an 'accident.' You fire a round without my permission, you won't see the light of day again...or, something like that."
The battalion of Linces headed north, to the Cerfontaine highway. They were chosen to screen the Nakíls, because they were very fast — an astonishing off-road maximum velocity of 90km/h —, and designed to travel even over the softest terrain. Plus, as already mentioned, they were hard to hit, and even harder to kill. If Stevid was planning to ambush Macabee forces flooding into southern and eastern Guffingford, the Linces would search for and find these traps. Sirigu was essentially tasked with breaking up a potential threat, using the tactical maneuverability of his armor to foil unknown and hidden threats. The Ejermacht had become an expert in armored warfare, thanks in large part to the large tank battles fought against Safehaven. Indeed, it was that front which hosted the largest tank battle in the world, at Ishme-Dagan: a grave yard for some of the top main battle tanks in the world, at the time (this battle spurred High Command to fund development of the Nakíl 1A2 upgrade to the 1A1, which saw combat at Ishme-Dagan.
By the time Sirigu's unit reached the road, and deployed on either side of it, the column of Nakíls began passing by. Activity on the Macabee side of the front, and above, had picked up. Lu-45s, sleek air superiority fighters, trolled the skies for enemies. They made sure to keep away from the coastal cities, to avoid miscommunications with Stevidian forces there — in case there was no ambush, and this were really a cession of territory. Wings of fighters thundered in the skies above, weaving in and out of the clouds, making sure to cover the allied units on the ground. The 61 tonne Nakíl 1A2s were joined with other vehicles, including a following of dozens of Tiznao-60 supply trucks, a platoon of anti-air support, light scout vehicles, self-propelled mortars and artillery, and mechanized infantry in armored personnel carriers. It was a full scale spearhead of a larger occupational force which was moving in behind it, and even simultaneously. Indeed, similar units were piercing through the divide in many locations, all being similarly careful — distrust of the Holy Empire was something etched into the brains of every Macabee soldier who passed through the Guffingfordi theater.
The actual crossing of the border was truly surreal. It felt as if there should have been something more: maybe a storm of Stevidian anti-tank munitions, zipping by. For eight years, this move was understood to go hand-in-hand with tough, open warfare. Officers were schooled to deal with high casualties, and situations of high stress, and fast movements. In such a war, losing focus could mean your death, and the death of your crew. War with Stevid was as good as total war. That was what any soldier would expect upon crossing "the divide." But, nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, the three Nakíl battalions, and Sirigu's battalion of Linces — which supporting units had linked up with the column on the Heemskirk road, for the time being (they were less adept at driving over rough, and highly variable, terrain) —, crossed the frontier into Stevidian Guffingford.
Something big was happening. Either it would go exactly as the average soldier expected: intense, open combat. Or, what was about to occur would be a total surprise, although not any less shocking. For now, there was a thick air of ambiguity surrounding this all.
Notes:
- Castilla y Belmonte was my puppet in Haven, so the Lince is definitely my design -- just under a different nation.
