Vejle, European federation. September 2034
Crisp, bone cutting cold air sweeps through my jacket as I meet Mads Andersen on his farm. Having fought in the opening months he had been critically injured and spent the rest of the war at home in recovery. His prosthetic leg a constant reminder of that.
“Honestly the leg is not the problem. I have enough tractors and automated irrigation to do the hard work. Maintenance is a bit tricky sometimes but if its too much my cousin, she’s always here to help me out.” He explains as he notices my quick glance at it. "The worst is the constant ringing in my right ear." he added as he opened his front door.
He welcomes me in his kitchen as we start discussing the war.
“The smell, that’s what brings me back to it the most. A scent of blood, gun powder and I’m back in one of those apartment blocks.”
“That was their picket fenced houses so to speak, utilitarian apartment buildings constructed during the communist era. Entirely out of concrete panels, the commies copied pasted them from Leipzig to Vladivostok. Our company was there reinforcing the german 23rd infantry bataillon. Four platoon of us Danes. Only two of ours made it to Vilnius. We were positioned at the southern entrance of the city. We knew it was a matter of hours before the city was encircled. Some of us were furious that we weren’t ordered to pull back with the rest out of Lithuania. They threatened to just drive away. They had to physically restrain a corporal at some point because he threatened to beat up our company commander.”
“Did they arrest him?” I ask
“Ha! And take away one abled bodied soldier? And have two soldiers watch over him? They gave him back his weapons and sent him back to his platoon. They gave everybody weapons. Not only did we have Lithuanian soldiers, we had Lithuanian police officers in the same appartement block as us, narcotics division if I remember correctly. Then they started giving rifles to every abled body that stayed in Vilnius. We still had thousands of civilians stuck in the city, lots of men and women that were more glad to help. Don’t get me wrong, they were even more scared than us. And besides showing them how a rifle worked and making them watch one street we couldn’t teach them more. We didn’t have time to teach them MOUT (Military operations in Urban terrain) TCCC (tactical field combat care) or any type of urban tactics. We were desperate. Any time we would be encircled. It was just a question of holding long enough for someone to break the siege. But by the pace the rest of NATO was retreating, by the number of casualties we knew we were digging trenches and our own graves at the same time. But trust me, at first we didn’t have enough time to think about all of that. The moment we jumped of our trucks and few IFV's we had to dig. We dug trenches, move debris onto the streets to block movement, deploy barbwire, block entrances. It was a mess. We had some kids help us move furnitures, oldest one must have been twelve. Even then, no way we would have given him a weapon. But they made themselves useful. We emptied all the furniture of four floors onto the ground flour to block the entrance of the building. We were literally I burying ourself alive. The gunshots and artillery bombing was getting closer and closer. We received the order at around noon to be ready for contact.”
Mads's train of sentences is broken by the sudden appearance of his cat leaping onto his lap.
“Our platoon had to hold an apartment block overlooking an important crossroad. It connected the main avenue with the highway going east. If we were to be ordered to break out or have reinforcement break the siege from the east, we were there for it. We had another platoon on the other appartement block across the road overlooking ours. The plan was for us to give each other mutual support. We established strategic positions throughout the building, the upper floor and rooftops mostly. Those apartments had narrow staircases, so on paper we could hold those as long as we had ammo. We were trained to avoid obvious firing positions, but there was no way to work around some windows.”
As Mads gently strokes his cat's fur, enjoying the soft texture beneath his fingertips, the playful feline suddenly nips at his hand. Mads smiles as he softly slaps the cats forehead.
“The cops I told you about. One of them ran upstair room to room with a radio in his hand. Telling us they would be on us in any second. I breathed in through my nose in a vain attempt to calm my nerves, the M60 machine gun I checked to be sure I put on enough oil in it. Took a sip from my camelback. And there was nothing left I could do. Despite how prepared I thought I was, I jumped when one of those crabs awkwardly turned the corner me and half the building were looking at. The sight of it awkwardly turning the corner without a care in the world. We opened up on it, must have had 6 rifles and two machine guns blow him into multiple pieces. All of them except me.”
“You didn’t shoot?”
“I pulled the trigger, but my M60 had a mind of its own. I heard a click but no shot. In a panic I pulled the bolt again and let out a burst in the crabs direction. After that one of them turned the corner and tried to drag his friend back into safety, safe to say he met the same fate. I let out a burst and hit him straight in the chest with 5 or 6 bullets. He was crawling on the ground and I finished him with another. I looked at them both laying down before two guys ran into the room. I jumped as they threw themselves into the room, they were carrying two LAW’s each. Single use rocket launchers.
“They’re coming” they yelled. “I fucking know that”
“Not those grunts, something bigger is making its way down the street” one of the said as he expanded the LAW and armed it.
He put himself next to me. “Mind the backblast alright?” I yelled at him. “And wear you’re ear protection for christ sake” I added.
“Never mind that, once you see that thing you won’t care about tinnitus or a broken rib.” He yelled at me furiously.
More crabs made their way down the street. Once three of them turned the corner more joined and started firing everything they got towards us. My M60 was rattling, I fired three burst on one of them before he went down. That one seemed to be tougher than the rest of them. I cursed at him as he went down for wasting my time like that. As I spun my M60 to have a better sight at another one, my casings hit the LAW gunner as I fired. “HELVEDE” he yelled as he recoiled in the back of the room trying to remove the burning casing he had just received in his neck.
My belt was done, I threw myself under the window as I reloaded.
“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT FIRING YOUR RIFLE!” I yelled at him as he took back his bearing.
“JUST WAIT TILL YOU SEE THAT THING!” he yelled as he positioned himself infront of the window.
Poor kid didn’t see what hit him. Everything from his chest up exploded. The wall behind him was painted with blood and molten magma. What was left of his body collapsed next to me as I tried to remove the blood from my eyes and to put some distance between me and the burning hot stuff on the ground.
The second guy was in shock, so was I. Took me a few seconds to take it in. I instinctively looked away from his mangled body and focused on reloading my machine gun. I lifted myself up and started firing the moment my barrel was pointing outside. Same crab who killed him fired another round out of a tube like weapon, he missed and hit the wall behind me. I took cover to dodge it before peeking again and unleashing hell on him. The newsstand he took cover behind was as riddled with bullets as him. It tried to crawl back behind the corner of the street. One crab at the corner tried to reach for him before I also took care of him. Three crabs ran back behind the corner. We stopped firing as we realized we had driven them away. We knew it was temporary. I barely had time to feel how much ammo I still had that the corner itself, what was left of it exploded as that thing drove through it. Only thing I can describe it as was a tractor. A walking truck as big as a van, with a multiple barreled rocket launcher on it. It unleashed hell on us. I felt the entire building shake as it took potshots at us. With the amount of rockets in those tubes it didn’t need to be accurate.
Seeking shelter amidst the chaos, I found myself enveloped in a whirlwind of dust and debris. In that moment, I offered a silent prayer, realizing the gravity of the situation my colleague had urgently conveyed just minutes earlier.
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It stopped firing for a few seconds, I peeked again and fired everything I had left at it. It did nada, If it had paint I would only have scratched it. As my belt was empty I instinctively threw myself at the young conscript crying in the corner. I ripped the LAW from his arms. The damn gun truck fired again, One rocket must have hit the floor right above us, part of the floor came collapsing and I was hit by debris right on the back against my neck. I was down on the ground. I took some nasty falls in my career but that was one of the hardest. Realized my hands were bleeding, my gloves were in shreds by that point and there was nothing protecting my palms blood poured out of it as I tried to stand up. The damn thing had stopped firing as I tried to find the LAW. I struggled through the debris and I nearly twisted my ankle as I made my way to the window. I peeked and saw some of the crabs tried to fix the gun truck under a hail of gunfire from the few guns still firing from our building. I took aim as the rockets starting lighting up, the rockets were starting to glow, I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer but I knew what it meant. I took aim as fast as I could. I fired a rocket right at it. The damn thing blew up so hard it threw me down even do I must have been 50 meters away. All the air from my lungs was forcefully removed, I felt like I was hit by a truck. Next thing I remembered my staff sergeant blared into the room, half his face bleeding yet he grabbed me and my full pack and lifted me up.
“Great shot, get back at the window the kid is going to grab you more ammo.”
Barely had time to process that, As I put my weaponon the window I looked at the damage infront of me. There was nothing left of the guntruck nor the crabs nor half of the street. I made sure my gun was ready to fire, that there wasn’t any debris inside of it and counted the ammo I had left. The kid, forgot his name. A 20 year old kid from Copenhagen. He still hangs out there he’s very big in the underground club scene. Anyway he made his way through the debris with two belts of 7.62. As I organized everything, our rest was short lived. One of the cops got into the room. His Kevlar was torn to shreds and he had a tourniquet around his arm. “30-40 of them coming, hold tight!” He barely finished his sentence that the first crabs turned around the corner.
The cat jumps on his lap again.
“Firing an M60 is like harnessing controlled chaos. The weight of the weapon settles into your hands like an old companion, like a toxic relationship with a girl you love and hate the damn thing. The weight of it, the unreliability in some circumstances. The small injuries be it from casings hitting you or the burning barrel touching your arm. All of it is forgiven and forgotten as you press the trigger. When you squeeze that trigger, it's like unleashing a storm. The roar of the M60 reverberated through your bones, every shot a thunderclap. Despite the recoil pushing back against you, there's a sense of power, of being in command of something primal. It's not just about the sound and fury; it's about the precision too. With every burst, you're sending a message, "don't fuck with my squad" as you're laying down suppressing fire with the kind of authority that only comes with experience. And when the smoke clears, there's a quiet satisfaction in knowing that you've tamed the beast once again, if only for a moment.
Once that smoke cleared I felt euphoric from the smell of the gunpowder and the sights of stacked bodies on that street. I must have gotten so many of them they would have put a bounty on me if they knew." Mads recalled with a smile on his face.
“GREAT SHOOTING MADS!” someone yelled as he ran down the hallway. Throwing me 300 more rounds.
“There’s more coming, don’t get that street corner out of your sight.”
Back at the window, I clocked a tiny dot in the sky inching closer and closer. It was pointed toward the avenue around the corner. As it drew nearer, I recognized it just in time before it let loose with rockets. A mi24, Russian attack helicopter. A mean thing. As I realized what it was I saw the smoke from the rocket pods and the rockets hitting the avenue behind the corner where I didn’t have any sights. The rockets shaked the whole building and dust and debris flew all over us.
The same cop came running back again. His good English and calm demeanor was nowhere to be seen this time. “THERE’S HUNDREDS OF THEM ON THAT AVENUE, HOLD YOUR GROUND!”
The heli flew right over us, I recognized the russian markings and the red star on its tail.
He was right, even do the rocket hit right on mark some crabs peeked again. The same routine started again and I was firing everything I had at the damn things.
I had that feeling in my stomach getting bigger and bigger as I realized how low on ammo I was getting. Despite how euphoric I felt shooting, the looming dread was immense. I couldn’t think of what would happen once my ammunition ran out.
They kept coming, one by one they turned the corner and tried desperately to take the street, as if their lives depended on it. As if there was a political officer with a pistol behind them threatening to to shoot them or cancel their leave if they didn't clear the building we were in. I was down to my last belt praying to god that they would stop throwing themselves at us. The kid next to me had resorted to grabbing our dead colleagues magazines. He was sobbing as he fired his rifle. After I cleared a jam and put my M60 on the window again I saw another speck high in the sky. It was coming right at us. It was elegantly flying in the air. Calm as it went at its own demise. I recognized what it was just a few seconds before it hit the avenue. I threw myself on the kid and we landed behind what was left of the brick wall as the kamikaze drone hit its target. I felt all my bones and organs shake from the explosion. Took me half a minute I think to realize I was alive and that the kid was indeed crying for his father.
Damn Russians had fired a Shahed at those things. Remember those? How much trouble they caused in Ukraine and Israel. Don’t know how they had the foresight to hit that specific road but it saved us allot of trouble.
Mads brings out the coffee and serves me a cup.
Before long an all clear was given and I was ordered out of there. All the joints in my legs were agonizing and my hands felt like they were given thousands papercuts but I was not in any position to complain. We had lost 10 men defending that building in that attack alone, our platoon commander was killed with two other guys in his room when that gun truck fired right at it. My platoon sergeant ordered me and two other guys to take position across the street to hold the avenue in depth. I don’t know why but I only noticed the smell once I was outside, I had spent too much time on the ground floor jumping from one furniture to the other trying to exit the building to notice it, but when I was outside that distinctive smell of mold attacked my senses. It was the first time I was so close to so many of those dead crabs. Despite all the dust, gunpowder and shit in the air the smell of it was putrid, like someone had left a Tupperware of food for a month in a closet and forced your face into it. Once we crossed the street and threw ourself in a sewer ditch that had been cracked open by the explosions, one of the rifleman with us complained of itches on his skin. The other felt euphoric and was starting to laugh hysterically. Now that I think of it, despite the weird bodily anomalies dead crabs gave us we were lucky no one contracted some unknow sickness that would have killed us all. They were from another galaxy and another planet, their evolutionary timeline was different than ours, the only similarity was that we were both bipedal. Their could easily have been some pathogen that would have wiped out all live on our planet once they arrived. I know its still being studied, but no peer reviewed paper will affect me as much as me puking my guts out, the guy next to me removing his gear and threatening to cut off his skin and the other grunt laughing hysterically at the sight of a bill board with the picture of a black kid. All of that was temporary. The effect and how long it lasted depended on your physiognomy. The dust started to fall down. Gunshots and explosions could be heard all over the city. We ducked for cover countless times as more suicide drones flew ahead. We had no communication with the Russians. We were glad for the bombings, we never thought we would have been glad for Russian ordonance. We didn’t know if they did more good than bad, but it calmed down the crabs in our sector and at that moment in time its all that mattered. The dust in the air made visibility null, we relied on runners to communicate, the same cop as earlier came running to us, we nearly blasted him before we realized he was human. We could see at maybe 10 meters and that was it.
“Stand down!” he yelled, no other orders and before we could ask anything he disappeared in the mist again.
That’s when we heard it, rumbling of tanks. After a few years in the army you could differentiate between American, German and Italian tanks. But the noise we heard was new. It kept getting and closer down the avenue we were holding. We began to see silhouettes in the distance and a large shape getting closer. Damn near send one of the guys with me to run to our sergeant to ask him what was going on.
Before I could make that decision the dark shape became very distinctive. I recognized the turret armor of a Russian T90M. So could him. Its turret rotated and lowered until it was aiming right at us. The beast must have been 20m away. As it got closer its turret turned and was aiming down our street. Had I not been dehydrated I’m sure I would have pissed my pants right there and then.
About fifty armoured vehicles and a bataillon of infantry entered the city through the side we held. Not enough to hold Vilnius but enough to organize a retreat. They had fought for hours on the east to help organize a breakthrough.
Our platoon, battered but bolstered by a Russian company were the last ones out of that city. With trucks packed to capacity with civilians and military personnel, there was simply no more space. So, we made our exit atop T90Ms and T72s, our faces etched into that iconic picture that came to symbolize the chaos of that war. You know the one - a Russian tank with a mix of Danish, Lithuanians and Russian soldiers riding on top. Funny thing is, that single image seemed to bridge more gaps in international relations than all the diplomatic efforts of those political science graduates combined.
The Lithuanian cop was beside me, tears rolling down his cheeks for most of the ride. He wasn't just grieving for his lost colleagues and missing family, but also grappling with the feeling of letting his land down.
Me? Well, I was just glad to be out of that slaughterhouse