“Well that escalated quickly…”
“Say again, sir?” Barakis asked.
“We’ve been in-theater, what, a day-and-a-half?” Michaels asked.
“About that long, give or take.”
Michaels nodded. “And I’ve already been relieved by a four-star general.” Michaels nodded at General Langstrom, on the other side of the room.
Barakis snorted. “Are you actually upset about that?”
“Not in the goddamn least.” Michaels inclined his head at the young Ganlin Supreme Commander and the gaggle of lords jockeying for position and influence around him. “The generals can have all the fun of that political clusterfuck all to themselves.”
“Don’t speak too soon, sir, that political clusterfuck is headed this way.”
“Ah, hell…”
“Colonel! Sergeant Major!” Yangri greeted them. He held out a hand, and they shook in the Ganlin way.
Probably some political power-play, Michaels thought.
“The speed at which your forces have constructed this fortification is nothing less than astounding, and what I can see of your world through the portal is incredible!”
“Our Marines are good at what they do, sir.”
“Indeed, they are!” Yangri flicked his ears straight up. “We all saw that first-hand yesterday!” He glanced across the room, filled with row upon row of metal folding chairs facing a projector screen. “Perhaps when we are done here, you could give me a tour? I would love to see more of your world.”
“Probably not, sir. My battalion is one of the few that was able to respond at full strength, and we’re going to be at the front of this thing before the big push even starts.”
“Ah, I see. Your men need you,” He nodded, his ears sagging a little. “Still, I’m saddened that we will no longer be working together. My army owes you and your men their lives.”
“Just doing my job, sir,” Michaels replied.
“His proper form of address is Lord General, Supreme Commander, or your grace,” one of the Ganlin generals snapped. “He is not a mere sir to you.”
“Lord Nahfi, do not be disrespectful, we owe this man more than just our lives, we owe him our kingdom!” Yangri glared at the offended general, his ears twitching flat against his skull for a moment. “”Sir” is a general honorific in the human tongue, applied to all superiors, with no class distinction.” He flicked his ears back in Michaels’ direction with a subtle smile. “Besides, I imagine his exploits will soon have him elevated to a higher status.”
Michaels struggled not to shift awkwardly from foot to foot. Yangri wasn’t wrong, but… “I wouldn’t say that I’ve done anything any other Marine officer wouldn’t have done in my place, sir.”
“Ah, come now, Colonel, our two militaries cannot be that different. Battle and victory bring promotion! With the campaign ahead, surely you and your men will see plenty of both.”
“I’m just a battalion commander, sir, all of this theater-level stuff is a bit above my paygrade.”
Yangri chuckled. “Between you and me, Colonel,” he said with a sly flick of his ear, “I wish it was a bit above mine.”
Michaels cocked an eyebrow.
“My father did, too. There is something more… honest about the battlefield. At least there, you know who wants to put a knife in your back.” He flicked his ear again, and Michaels wasn’t sure if it was just the keshmin version of a wink, or if it was a subtle nod in the direction of one of the “Lord Generals” behind him.
“Alright, everyone, let’s get started,” Langstrom called out, saving Michaels from further discussion.
“Duty calls,” Yangri said, waving at the rows of chairs before them and heading back to the Ganlin side of the room.
“And thank god for that,” Michaels muttered under his breath after the Supreme Commander left.
“Not too loudly, sir, I think their hearing is better than ours.”
Michaels snorted, but held in a smart remark as he took a seat.
The Ganlin leadership took up the front corner of the chairs, but the vast majority of them were filled in by the commanding officers and senior enlisted members of over eighty different battalion-level commands, their regimental equivalents, and the command staffs of First Marine Division, Third Marine Aircraft Wing, and First Marine Logistics Group. Several Army and Air Force unit commanders were also present, along with two Navy Captains. The command staff of I Marine Expeditionary Force took up the half of the first row not occupied by the Ganlin contingent.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Langstrom said, stepping in front of the dark projector screen. “We have a lot of work to do, and not a lot of time to do it in if we want to be able to press our current advantage, so this will be as brief and to the point as we can make it.”
In how many three-hour briefs about nothing have I heard that before? Michaels thought. Langstrom’s reputation is one of being brusque, even for a Marine, so maybe this time it will hold true.
Langstrom gave a nod to someone in the back of the room, and the lights dimmed while the projector turned on. There were some mutterings from the Ganlin contingent. “I’m not going to waste time going over what happened yesterday. Some of you were there, and the rest of you have had enough time to read the briefs. The results speak for themselves. We’re still counting the bodies, but estimates are over thirty thousand dead, with maybe a quarter of their force surviving to retreat. In a nutshell, the Keeblers got their goddamn asses kicked.”
Are you shitting me? Michaels marveled at how quickly words and phrases spread through the ranks. Lance Corporal Kawalski only just started throwing that term around this morning!
Langstrom clicked a remote, and a birds-eye-view image of the fleeing elven forces appeared. The Ganlin contingent muttered and whispered again. “Aerial recon tracked the survivors for about eight kilometers across the river, before they disappeared under heavy forest cover. How much of that force is combat-capable is uncertain, but given the number of fatal sword wounds we’ve found in the elven remains, many of which were self-inflicted, it seems likely they left all their casualties behind.”
He clicked the remote again, and a high-altitude photo of the region surrounding the portal appeared. The keshmin stared intently at the screen. “This is where we lost contact with the surviving enemy forces,” Langstrom continued with another click, popping a colored circle over a region of dense forest. “They were heading in a northly direction, but aerial recon showed no signs of activity, bases, or outposts in that direction for two hundred kilometers.”
Another click and the image changed to a photo much further to the west. “Recon did pick up two large basecamps roughly fifty kilometers to the west, and signs of mass troop movements between there and the river.”
“These camps appear to be lightly defended, and are far larger than is required by the occupying force.” Several clicks cycled through a series of zoomed-in photos showing row upon row of tents and huts in camps occupied by tiny numbers of soldiers. “We expect that these were staging areas, either for the legions that were originally campaigning in this region, the legions that were moved to bolster their attack on the Royal Host, or both.”
Clicking again left the screen dark. “Either way, these are targets. It is uncertain how quickly the surviving forces can move, but by all accounts from our new allies,” he nodded to the Ganlin corner. “They are primarily restricted to normal marching speeds, and their armies typically only travel twenty kilometers in a day.
“Even if they turned straight for their base camp as soon as we lost them in the forest, and double-timed it back, they’d still have another day of normal travel to go. Worst case scenario, eight hours. The combat engineers won’t have bridges across the river capable of handling our vehicles until this evening, but we can do an air lift to put boots on the ground in those camps with less than thirty minutes flight time.”
Several more murmurs from the Ganlin contingent were joined by a few whispers from the US commanders.
“We’re going to send a battalion of Marines to those camps, take them, capture any intel, equipment, and prisoners we can, and then the Air Force is going to bomb flat anything we can’t carry away. I want unit recommendations on my desk thirty minutes after we’re done here, with wheels up with Marines on board no more than two hours after that.” Several more murmurs followed this, mostly from the U.S. side.
“Care to place odds on it being us, sir?” Barakis whispered.
“I’m not taking that bet, Sergeant Major,” Michaels whispered back.
“That’s the immediate objective. Moving forward to more long-term objectives.” He clicked another slide up, this one showing a recon photo of both Tolkien, which was now a Main Operating Base, and the new FOB Williams alongside the Ganlin camp. MOB Tolkien was rapidly expanding to cover the entire kilometer-and-change width of the portal, and FOB Williams already had notable earthworks.
“Right now, our situation is something of a clusterfuck. Ganlin forces are recovering from near-defeat, and between casualties and half their troops still being scattered to the wind, their combat effectiveness is about fifty percent, with maybe twenty thousand troops capable of combat.
“To be completely frank, our situation isn’t much better. We have roughly four battalions worth of Marines, from eight actual infantry battalions and three different regiments, an assortment of Army Reserve and National Guard companies, elements of three armor battalions, and most of an artillery regiment. Second Battalion, Fifth Marines is the only infantry battalion that actually has their entire command in-theater right now, and that’s only because they were staging for a pre-deployment exercise.”
Langstrom shook his head. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but this is only the fourth day since the portal opened up, and we’ve only been at war for barely thirty-six hours. You all did well with that initial scramble, but we can’t fight a war like that.” He laughed, putting his hands on his hips. “You’d think having the portal less than a half-mile from I-15 would be a supply officer’s wet dream. It’s probably the shortest supply line in history, and Marines in-country can have pizza delivered straight to the states-side perimeter.” He got a few chuckles from the various unit commanders. “But it’s also a goddamn nightmare. We have too much of the things we don’t need, and the things we can’t do without, like replacement ordnance for all that artillery we sent down-range yesterday, are bogged down in rush-hour traffic.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
He shook his head, waving his hand before him to establish a hard line. “Before we can do anything more than lightning raids, we have to get our supply issues sorted, get the Ganlin army back on their feet, and get our own forces consolidated and ready to advance. That’s Phase One.”
He clicked the slide, and the aerial photo was augmented by lines along the river and around FOB Williams, MOB Tolkien, and the portal. “We establish a solid defensive line at the river, much like the Royal Host was doing before we showed up. Expand MOB Tolkien with a proper air strip, set up fire support bases around FOB Williams and along the river, and get the rest of One Marine Expeditionary Force in-theater.”
This declaration was accompanied by several grumbles and yips from the Ganlin contingent. “Is there a problem, Lord General?” Langstrom asked Yangri. Michaels was one hundred percent certain the use of Lord General instead of Supreme Commander was deliberate.
“While we are grateful for your assistance and support, and we would certainly be doomed without you,” he said, glaring at some of the other generals. A Marine acting as interpreter repeated his words for the benefit of everyone who wasn’t in range of the translation spell. “Some of our lords have expressed concerns over the… damage to their estates that have been caused by your construction.”
Langstrom’s expression darkened, but Yangri held up a hand before he could speak. “Their concern is moot,” he continued, speaking more to his own generals than to the Marine General. “Because all of their estates, and the entire Kingdom, was already considered lost. That’s why we created the portal in the first place.”
“You created the portal?” asked Brigadier General Harley, the commander of First Marine Regiment, as a ripple of shock rolled through the room at this revelation.
“Yes, we created the portal,” Yangri nodded. He flicked his ears back in a pained expression. “We knew the Kingdom was lost. Hard as we fought on, defeat was inevitable, and defeat meant extermination. Facing that, we took… desperate action.” He shrugged. “We had theories about creating portals to another world, and recent discoveries had suggested they were more than theories. With the alternative being extinction, we threw half of what was left of our treasury at it, with the hope of making a path to a new world, free of elves, where at least some of us could survive.”
“You made a hail-Mary pass,” someone said.
“I don’t know what that means,” Yangri replied, “But if it is what I suspect, then yes. It was a long shot, but we had no other hope of survival. We took a chance on finding a new world. Instead, we met you.”
“And now you hope to save your homes,” Langstrom said. “I can respect that. We will try to minimize our impact in your territory, but the war comes first. It won’t do a damn bit of good if we save your homes, but manage to lose the war in the process.”
“What if the Keeblers followed you through?” one of the Seventh Marine Regiment staff members asked.
“We had planned to shut the portal behind us.”
“You can shut the portal now?”
“Yes, we retain control over the portal,” Yangri nodded. “Closing it would not be an easy thing to do, and to be honest, from what I understand, being able to close it again is just as theoretical as opening it in the first place.”
“From what you have been told?” General Harley asked again.
“I am not an artificer, myself,” Yangri waved a dismissive hand. “I leave the specific details to them.”
“How energetic of an event would that be?” Langstrom asked.
“From what I’m told, about as energetic as opening the portal in the first place.”
Whispers roiled through the room as this new revelation was discussed.
“Freeway pile-ups caused by rubber-neckers produced more overall damage than the portal did, sir,” Barakis muttered.
“So did the perimeter we cleared,” Michaels added. “The Eminent Domain lawsuits from that will be raging for decades.”
“Suffice it to say,” Yangri added quickly, “We have ever interest in maintaining it open now, and should we win the war, some have already expressed hope at the possibility of trade through the portal.”
“A discussion for another time,” Langstrom noted. “Either way, it doesn’t change where we’re at now. We’ve still got a war to win. Moving on.”
He clicked the slide again, bringing up a scanned map of the Kingdom of Ganlin and surrounding territories, overlaid in a few places with high-altitude photos sized to scale. “Phase Two. While we’re all working on getting our shit in a sock, we’ll focus on scouting and recon. Identify enemy troop dispositions and deployments, potential targets, and what Ganlin infrastructure is still intact. We’ll keep the enemy on their heels with air strikes and lightning raids with air-lifted infantry and hardware.”
Another click of the slide and the screen was replaced with an advancing arc on the other side of the river, and deep prongs jutting far past the main line. “Phase Three. Once we’ve gotten all our shit in a sock, we’re going to surge on the offensive. It’ll be a two-prong affair. The main line of allied-controlled territory will be pushed by the Ganlin Royal Host, bolstered by U.S. Army and Reserve units. The Royal Host’ve got the man-power in-country to control a lot of territory. They’re not mechanized, so rate of advance will be slow, but for maintaining control of territory, that’s fine.”
The next slide shifted to focus on the prongs. “The second prong of the offensive will be deep strikes behind enemy lines. Using mechanized and aerial assets, we’ll deploy forces deep past the main line of advance, where they will set up FOBs, and corridors of advance that can be used to encircle any elven forces, and rapidly advance the main line. This will also serve the purpose of building strings of FOBs to facilitate and secure lines of supply, and provide fortified points to fall back to should the Keeblers surge back with something unexpected. All operations will be supported by heavy air cover.”
A click of the screen, and the prongs and line were replaced with a star at the portal and a deep cone of blue radiating out from it, and with the Ganlin border outlined in blue. “The primary objective of this operation is to establish substantial depth-of-field protection between the Elven and Allied lines and the portal. Secondary objectives are to identify elven strongholds, lines of supply, tactical and strategic assets, and neutralize them. Ultimately the goal is to push the Keeblers out of the Kingdom of Ganlin entirely. After that operation is complete, we take the fight to the Keebler homefront, and keep on pushing until the bastards give up, or there’s none of them left.”
The screen went dark with another click of the remote. “That’s our grand strategy. Operation Bulldog. The specific details are going to be up to you and your unit commanders; you all know your jobs, and I’m not going to do them for you. I do want no-bullshit reports from each of you by the end of the day, on what your units need to be ready for Phase Three, what you don’t have, and when you expect to get it.”
He turned to the Ganlin contingent, his tone a little less commanding. “Lord General, if you can get me a list of what your troops need, be it food, medical supplies, boots for their feet, whatever it is, I will do my best to ensure you get whatever materials you need to get the Royal Host combat-ready again. In return, I’m going to need maps, and whatever intel on the elves, their tactics, capabilities, and dispositions you might have.”
Yangri gave Langstrom a small but gracious bow. “I will ensure you have that report by sundown, General.” Some of his companions yipped and tittered their grumbles, but a flick of an ear and his tail silenced them.
“Outstanding.” Langstrom gave him a firm nod. “Now,” he continued, stepping away from the projector, “I give the floor over to Lieutenant Commander Rice from the Office of Naval Intelligence. Commander Rice will brief you on current known capabilities and potential threats demonstrated by elven forces. Commander Rice, the floor is yours.” Passing her the remote, Langstrom took a seat.
“Thank you, sir,” said a short woman with auburn hair and deep, brown eyes as she rose from her own seat. Mutters rippled through the Ganlin contingent as she stepped in front of the darkened projector. “Ladies and gentlemen, before I begin, I must emphasize how important it is to not underestimate our new enemy. Though their primary weapons and tactics were rendered obsolete centuries ago in our world, they have employed weapons systems and technologies that, if not on-par with our own, give them at least near-peer capabilities in several areas. They have also demonstrated technologies and capabilities for which we have no equivalent, and possibly no direct counter.
“Most importantly, they have demonstrated the ability to adapt their tactics under fire, and they no doubt will adapt and attempt to compete with our own technological capabilities. It is the estimation of myself and my colleagues that we hold a distinct and decisive technological advantage now, but we also cannot rely on retaining that advantage.”
She clicked the remote, and an aerial photo of the previous day’s battle was displayed, showing the elven cohorts and legions in regimented ranks. “The primary infantry weapons employed by the enemy are of three types. Their primary ranged weapons are called “Mage Staffs,” wielded by “Mages.” These staffs are capable of projecting a variety of concentrated energy blasts, with varying effects.”
Michaels took notes as he listened, but while Commander Rice’s presentation was as detailed and cogent as he could have hoped for under the circumstances, it was also incredibly dry. Having attended many similar intelligence briefings, Michaels was able to maintain at least the appearance of alert interest, but he noticed several of the keshmin lords struggling to stay awake. A few had even completely nodded off.
Rice seemed to be well aware of how dry her presentations could be, however, and as she moved on to talk about the elven artillery, the very first slide was a video from a Cobra’s gun camera, complete with audio. The video started with the staccato rattle of the Cobra’s chin gun, startling the Ganlin contingent awake.
Somebody took the time to set up subwoofers just for this, Michaels thought, chuckling to himself.
“Good hits, good hits,” one of the pilots said as the burst of gunfire exploded across an elven formation.
“Switching to rockets, let’s set up for a pass,” said the other pilot.
“Copy. Same target, that format- Holy shit! Did you see that?”
A flash of light had thrown a towering column of dirt and debris high into the air.
“Yeah, I saw it. Big Dog, this is Yankee One-Three, hostiles have artillery.”
Several more flashes threw more columns of dirt into the air. One struck an Abrams, knocking armor off its glacis, and two took out Humvees. The video froze.
“Produced by the same towers that provide them with their heavy shields, these large blasts produce a heavy explosion and smaller, fragmenting shards of energy upon impact. They are more than sufficient to neutralize up-armored Humvees and LAVs, but not sufficient to penetrate the frontal armor of an Abrams. The energy released appears to be roughly equivalent to five to ten kilograms of TNT, but it’s not quite the same. Elven artillery produces a much lower velocity explosion, somewhere on the order of fifteen hundred to two thousand meters per second, while TNT detonates at nearly seven thousand meters per second.”
The next slide featured an image of a heavy shardblast explosion next to the familiar detonation of a 155mm HE round. The HE round produced a column of smoke and dust, while the shardblast lifted much more clumps and clods of dirt. “The shardblast has a much lower lethal radius from detonation than a comparable artillery shell, but the shards produced appear to dissipate at sixty to seventy meters, and have significant penetrative ability on their own.”
She clicked the remote again and brought up another aerial photo of the battle, this one from higher and further away. The photo had several craters circled. “Their primary limitations are being direct line-of-sight weapons, and their range. Maximum effective range is about five hundred to five hundred fifty meters, while maximum range caps at seven hundred to seven-fifty meters, where the energy blast dissipates into nothing.”
She clicked the slide again, blacking out the screen. “Close range engagements against Elven artillery puts them at near-peer levels of capability, but longer-range engagements leave them unable to respond. How long this will remain the case is unknown, but for now, every effort should be made to neutralize elven artillery at long range, before closing to more conventional engagement ranges.”
No shit, Michaels thought. He wanted to roll his eyes, but… Sometimes, people need the obvious pointed out to them. Rather it be here in a brief than on the battlefield at muzzle velocity.
Rice wrapped up her briefing by highlighting the elves adaption of their existing weapons systems in the midst of the battle to remind the officers and senior enlisted before her to not take their advantages for granted, and to be wary of Elven efforts to adapt, in addition to the existing out-of-context problems, like straight-up invisibility.
“Thank you, Commander,” Langstrom said as she took her seat. “Alright, everyone, you have your marching orders, you all know your jobs. I want readiness reports on my desk by the end of the day, and unit recommendations for our first strike in the next half-hour. Let’s get the job done. Dismissed.”
“Any word on keshmin capabilities are?” asked Lieutenant Colonel Mayhew, the CO of 3rd Battlion, 5th Marines.
“They’re supposed to be setting up a tech demo for us tomorrow afternoon,” Michaels replied. “But they haven’t been very clear on what all they’ll be demonstrating.”
“They’re probably as wary of us as we are of them,” Barakis said. “Can’t say I blame them.”
“Well, we’re going to need them to pull their weight, if these elves prove to be a bigger problem than they were yesterday,” said Colonel Anders, the CO of 5th Marines. “Russia and China are already chomping at the bit over the portal, and demanding access. If things heat up over this on the home front, we might have to pull out and leave Ganlin to do all the heavy lifting.”
“Let’s hope we can avoid that particular clusterfuck,” Michaels grumbled.
“Yeah,” Anders agreed. “In the meantime, Henry, you have more immediate concerns.”
“The strike on the elven basecamps.”
“Yep. Two/Five’s the only battalion-strength unit we have in the field right now. I don’t really have anyone else to send. Plus, your boys are among the few who have recent combat experience against these bastards.”
“I know,” Michaels sighed.
“Rally your men. You’ve got two hours. Semper Fi.” Anders patted Michaels on the shoulder before walking off with Mayhew, discussing what he needed to finish moving his battalion in-theater.
“Well, Sergeant Major, you heard the man.”
“Retreat, Hell, sir,” Barakis said by way of confirmation.