Captain Meybert cursed and twisted out of the way, managing to avoid the knife in the nick of time. However, he was only able to avoid the exposed blade itself. He was still rammed by the charging soldier, taking the full brunt of the man’s Federation-fed weight. It wasn’t nearly as bad as being plugged full of cold steel, but a body blow from an intrepid infantryman was nothing to sneeze at.
Struck by the man’s heavy, accelerating mass, Captain Meybert was dramatically knocked off his feet and sent flying through the air in accordance with the laws of physics. But despite being knocked down, he continued to hang on to his trusty friend for dear life.
“Captain?!”
“Stop! You’ll hit Captain Meybert!”
The commotion sounded as if it came from a world far away. With his trusty friend still gripped tightly in his hands, Captain Meybert swung hard in the direction of the young enemy soldier, whose eyes were bloodshot as he thrust his knife again.
“Don’t…underestimate me!”
The blade of Meybert’s trusty friend had been well polished. It struck the enemy soldier on the back of the head. When the enemy jerked back reflexively, Captain Meybert quickly pulled away, putting distance between them.
There was a brief pause before a nearby fellow soldier pumped the enemy full of lead, putting him down for good.
“Captain, are you okay?!”
“Yes, it’s nothing serious. I would have been in trouble without my trusty shovel, though.”
Captain Meybert spat blood and dirt onto the ground and rinsed his mouth with a precious swig of water from his canteen, before expressing his anger—and perhaps more loyalty to his own branch.
“I’m an artillery captain, and I’ll be damned if I’m killed by anything other than fellow artillery!”
Boldness was something soldiers liked to see in a commander. But in truth, this was all for show. Despite the brave face he put on, deep down, the captain felt like he was about to cry. He feared this situation was beyond saving.
The Federation soldier had been isolated and alone, yet evidently had enough spunk to plunge ahead and go after a commander. If an entire unit of such soldiers were to suddenly rush them…
When it came to gumption, Captain Meybert was sure he was a match for any man, but they were at a clear numerical disadvantage.
Any more, and at this rate…
A chill ran down his back. He covered himself, still needing to put on a show for the men, laughing fearlessly as if nothing troubled him. Maybe it was silly, but as an officer, he couldn’t show weakness. He was just doing what needed to be done.
Speaking of which, he also had to keep his eyes peeled, didn’t he? Captain Meybert raised his binoculars in one hand and peered about. What was that? The captain suddenly froze.
He did an unintentional double-take before finally smiling. This time, as if he really meant it. There was a hunk of steel in the distance. And riding atop it was an armored branch officer, waving his cap in high spirits.
As an artillery gunner, Captain Meybert tended to find tankers a little conceited. But conceited or not, at that moment, Captain Ahrens was the nicest sight he’d seen in ages. The arrival of friendly tanks was exactly what was needed to lift their spirits.
“It looks like the cavalry is here,” said Captain Meybert, smirking softly and pointing out Captain Ahrens’s tank unit to the nearby soldiers. “See? New armored forces. Double-digits in total, it seems.” Captain Meybert hit his fist into his hand to punctuate the moment, chuckling gleefully. “Support the tanks! Let’s show those airborne fools that they’re no match for a combined arms unit!” he shouted, peppering the men with words of encouragement to drum up their morale and inspire hope and optimism that things were turning around.
Captain Meybert was just about to say one more good thing to light a fire in his troops when he noticed a very welcome surprise among the tanks.
It was an armored vehicle loaded with a 10.5-centimeter howitzer and a pile of massive shells. Shape-wise, it mostly resembled a tank, but it was unmistakably an assault gun.
Captain Meybert called Captain Ahrens on the radio.
“Well, well, Captain Ahrens! That’s a mighty fine howitzer you’ve brought back with you! Where did you get your hands on that beauty?!” he exclaimed.
“I borrowed it! I encountered some friendly troops along the way and asked nicely!”
“Of course,” said Captain Meybert, chuckling and grinning. “In that case, as an artilleryman, I guess it’s my turn to ask nicely. Let me fire that thing!”
“Tsk!”
“It’s an assault gun, isn’t it? Who else should handle it if not artillery?”
“Okay. But just the assault gun…!”
“See, I knew you’d understand.” Captain Meybert laughed, calling to the other artillery soldiers nearby. “Everyone, we’re done playing infantry! It’s time to become artillery once more—even if it means playing at being tankers as well!”
The soldiers shouted in unison as they piled into the gun—definitely a gun and not a tank—while Captain Ahrens watched from the side, frowning. Together with the tanker, who was driving, they began putting the assault gun to good use.
After all, guns were meant for artillery, not tankers. Such wonderful display of mechanized force. If only there were more self-propelled guns.
Still marveling at how magnificent the contraption was, Captain Meybert began to fire. The gun’s effect was proportionate and immediate. Unlike a normal assault gun, the howitzer under Captain Meybert’s control had no drawbacks against infantry. He went to town with it, firing into the enemy’s ranks with abandon. Just moments earlier, he had been like a hero from the Stone Age, fighting with shovel and knife. But now, with shells and munitions on his side, he was rapidly regaining his ardent faith in the doctrine of superior firepower.
Firepower always makes right—at least when you have the advantage over your enemy. It was the enemy’s firepower that was dastardly. And righteousness always triumphs.
As Captain Meybert operated the howitzer, he suddenly remembered that every howitzer has a mortal enemy: armor. Or rather, he was forcefully reminded of their existence by the Federation Army mages’ counterattack.
Unbelievably, the mages were using the terrain and their defensive shells as cover, shamelessly letting the AT gun cover them as they indiscriminately returned fire with explosion formulas.
“Those enemy mages are going to be trouble. Fuck me, could this day get any worse?”
Captain Meybert clucked his tongue and shot an HE round, fully expecting it to not be very effective for much more than suppression. After all, a mage’s defensive shells could endure such a blast. But at close range, it might at least give them some pause.
Or so he had initially calculated. His calculation, however, proved wildly off-base.
Was the captain seeing things, or did that enemy mage completely crumble under a close-range howitzer shot? To say this was unexpected would have been a massive understatement.
Captain Meybert did a double take.
“Huh? What…? Did I accidentally hit infantry instead?” he wondered, worried he had just wasted ammo. But he got the same result with the next mage he spotted as well.
“Huh?”
“Hey, Captain Meybert? Mages fly, right?”
“That’s right, they fly.”
“How come these guys aren’t flying then?”
“What?! You’re kidding! Now it makes sense, these mage units must be cobbled together from whatever they could scrounge up! Damnit, I’m so used to our own mages that I didn’t even notice the difference at first!”
Forget about protective films. Federation orbs were supposed to be durable, but these mages couldn’t even muster defensive shells that offered much protection.
“All right, stick to HE rounds and keep them suppressed. Then blast them clean off the field.”
“Are you sure? They’re pretty close to command.”
“Better than giving them a chance to suppress us, right? Besides, the enemy is bombarding us with our own captured shells. It’s now or never.”
“Good point. Take this, you pieces of shit,” declared Captain Meybert, channeling every ounce of bitter devotion and hostility into the loaded shell. Then he howled, willing his message to reach its target.
“Let ’er rip! Captain Ahrens, let’s move out!”