Bokep startled awake after hearing the sounds of gunfire down the hallway in his hab-plex. Throwing some basic clothing on, he undid the makeshift lock on his family’s apartment’s front door and peeked his head out to see a Euruskan infantry unit fire into another room. The sounds of screaming and pleading ended as the brass hit the floor. Quickly darting inside, he shook awake his mother and father.
“Mom, Dad? We have to go, the soldiers are here!”, He said in a fearful voice.
Soldiers only came down here for two reasons, extermination, or conscription. Bokep’s parent, in partucular his father, gathered themselves and hurriedly tried to get on what clothing they could that would allow them to survive the elements and headed for the door. As they threw open the rusted iron slab, Bokep looked down the hall once again and saw the soldiers approaching.
“Hey you! Put your hands up and get out of the apartment.”, the leading soldier said pointing his rifle at Bokep, its laser-sight squarely center mass.
“Woah, woah, woah, okay.”, Bokep replied putting his hands up and walking into the narrow hallway, the smell of blood and gunpowder was strong. Given the fact he was still alive, Bokep reasoned this was a conscription unit.
“Are you alone?”, the soldier barked.
“I-no… I’m with my family, mother and father, neither military-aged.”, Bokep said, trying to prevent whatever other reasoning or mission the men from hurting his parents.
His parent tried to plead with the soldiers to not take him, but automatic weapons made resistance futile. Bokep was quickly hand-cuffed and pushed into a BTR alongside several other newly conscripted recruits. Some men, others women; about a 50-50 split. Most of them were his own age, likely early twenties at the oldest. The youngest he saw was maybe fifteen. There were two soldiers in the back with them. They appeared to be older, likely home-guard who either didn’t make the cut for frontline service, or were being rotated back for reinforcement… how lucky; now instead of killing Europans, they got to kill their own. It didn’t matter if they, or the enemy fired the bullet, conscription meant death. Even if you were told it was only for a year or two, most rarely survived their first operation, at least in the infantry.
“Who knows, maybe we’ll be the lucky ones. I heard they’re raising new tank brigades, maybe they’ll make us tankers.”, came one conscript. Several others including the soldiers shot him glances, some threatening, others just annoyed at his existence. Regardless, no one spoke for the rest of the ride.
\___Episode Two___/
After what felt like a few hours, the BTR came to a sudden stop, sending a few conscripts into one another on account of their inability to use their arms in their restrained state. There was a short pause before the side hatch was thrown open from the outside and Bokep was dragged out of the cramped compartment, driving his shin into the metal door frame and practically face-planting into the pavement below it. Being dragged to his feet, Bokep had to squint to see just about anything. There were numerous floodlights pointed at the convoy as it make a half-circle around the entrance to a Euruskan Military Base. There were an assortment of soldiers in full tactical gear ordering Bokep’s fellow conscripts around; several Ka-52 helicopters flew overhead, their own search lights adding to the ongoing assault on Bokep’s vision. The recruits were taken first to a station where blood samples, finger-prints and names were logged, then they were each given buzz-cuts and subjected to a mix of chemical and other liquid “hose-downs”. There was one man who tried running, fully nude. He had hardly made is fifteen meters before he was gunned down by a BTR gunner. After seeing yet another summary execution, Bokep was taken to a medical room where he was given a general exam and inoculated for several biological weapon agent, alongside half-a-dozen vaccines; the last of which being particularly painful. It was only after all of this, and once the sun had begun to rise, turning the pitch-dark sky into a gray overcast, that Bokep was given a set of cloths and placed inside a barracks. There were no lights, but there was enough natural light from the few small windows to allow Bokep to find an unclaimed cot and fall asleep.
What may have been seconds, minutes, or perhaps a few hours after Bokep had fallen asleep, the barracks’ door was either kicked down, or thrown open. Regardless, Bokep startled awake, still sore from the plethora of injections to see what he thought was a drill instructor, accompanied by three armed soldiers holding stock AK-74Ms with black polymer furniture.
“Get the hell up dirt-bags, welcome to the army!”, barked the instructor in heavy Russian. Bokep darted out of bed as the lights in the room were turned on and the others gathered themselves at varied rates.
“I am Yuri Karponikiv, but you will call me sir, or Praporschik! You will say, “Yes, Prapor” when I speak to you. Do you understand conscripts?”, the man continued.
“Yes, Prapor!”, replied Bokep and the others.
“You will find at your bunks, a pair of boots, a pair of socks, a book, a notebook, and a pen. You will put on your socks, you will put on your boots, and you will never lose your effects and your pen! If I find a conscript without any of the Euruskan property which has been given to him, he will be punished, his squad will be punished, and his unit will be punished! Do you understand me?”, the Prapor yelled again.
“Yes, Prapor”, replied the conscripts as they began to dress gather their effects and put on their boots.
The recruits were led to a concrete “field” where they were run through a series of exercises. Most of them were body-weight; pushup, situps, and the like. Some did well, most didn’t on account of varying level of malnutrition. This lasted for about half-an-hour before there were once again escorted under armed guard to a mess-hall where they were given the first proper meal they had eaten in quite some time. Most of them quickly ate what they were give, some did it so fast that by the time the last conscript had sat down, the first had finished. The Prapor, knowing that if he didn’t feed his conscripts, that would just die of starvation or worse, gave them a small mercy by allowing most of them to enjoy their meal. But as soon as he felt it was right, he took them right back out to the “field” and made them run, losing many the only good thing they had ever eaten as what went down came right back up. The first several days went like this. Wake up, PT [Physical Training]. Get something to eat, throw it up doing more PT. Get organized into squads, do a few classes, more PT. Eat, night time PT. Eat, then sleep. Bokep had been one of the few conscripts to be chosen to become a squad leader. One of the first non-physical exercises they had done was a sort of “test” to figure out what everyone was best at. Either Bokep wasn’t skilled at anything, or someone, or something thought he was good at telling other people what to do. He didn’t mind though, as this pseudo-promotion got him out of one or two PT slots a week for extra instruction. Slowly overtime, his unit’s Prapor introduced pieces of kit to their regime. A plat-carrier here, a backpack there. Eventually they were rucking in full kit, blank rounds and all. There were also basic war-fighting classes, squad level tactics, and a few more advanced onces for the squad leaders (SLs) and the one or two officers selected out of their bunch.
By the end of the second week, they had finished with what the Prapor called “Demolition”, next came construction. The unit, which was around forty or so men and women, were taken to conduct basic field exercises in positioning and marksmanship. Each was only given one round at a time in order to prevent any would be runners, but lucking for Bokep, his comrades were relatively bright and didn’t have a death wish. By the end of the fourth week, the platoon had finished their training and was integrated into a mechanized unit which was bound for the city of Lost Angels. Their officer corp were all experienced veterans, and anyone who wasn’t a foot slogger was sent off to another unit for more training. Bokep had commented to a member of his own squad that they were likely only given the basics because they weren’t expected to survive long enough to need it… this was something he had decided to not thing about again given the implications. So on the last day of their training they were given a speech by their Prapor; something about how they were going to give the Europans what was coming to them, and how they should feel honored to serve their country. Some of the more susceptible conscripts bought this, Bokep did not, but made careful effort not to show it. After that, there boarded yet another convoy and were sent to join their unit, the 509th Mechanized Vanguard Brigade.
\___Episode Three___/
As the convoy slowed to a halt, Bokep looked up from his book. It was a manual on Europan and Eurasian units, how to spot them, how to fight them, an how not to die immediately to them. It was an old print and mildly outdated by his own estimates, the text starting to fade, and the pages getting that old “antique” feel and look to them. His unit had been integrated into the 504th some days ago; since then they had been traveling from their training facility to the front-lines in the city of Lost Angels. They had been moving in a dispersed convoy across what was known by his fellow soldiers as “The Rust Bed”. A kilometer’s long no-man’s-land where the Europan and Euruskan forces had been locked in a stalemate for an undisclosed, or perhaps even an unknown about of time. As Bokep dismounted from the BMP-2 he was riding in, he saw why they called it The Rust Bed. The ground, a mix of reinforced concrete, metal plating, and jagged rebar was a dark rust orange color. Everywhere he looked, there were burnt out vehicles, long-dead Macro-Suits [Author’s note to reader: Macro-Suits are large autumns robots which some consider to be gods of war.], and dried blood streeking across the old battlefield into what reminded Bokep of anthills from where reclamation units had taken corpses down below for organ-harvesting and to scavenge their war gear. As an infantryman, it was Bokep’s job to escort the armored vehicles through what were known as “kill-zones”, or “hot spots”; places where there were known hostile units and otherwise unsavory characters that might see a convoy as a good target. This would slow the convoy down to a walking speed, but slow is steady, and steady is fast.
Taking his position on the left side of the lead BMP, Bokep racked his AK-74M and made sure his reticle was working before signaling to the driver to start forward once again. For the first while, there wasn’t much. A FPV drone here, a scav that they let pass there. Regardless, there was a tension in the air amongst the mix of both green and veteran troops that didn’t seem to dissipate. As the hours wore on, Bokep began to get complacent, tired, and more than a little bored. Finally as they reached the end of the kill-zone, he was able to get back into the protected hull of the BMP and at-least hold over his hunger until the next Euruskan output. As Bokep opened a can of meat stew, he heard the sound of mechanical screeching, shooting and sporadic gunfire. Throwing open the BMP door, Bokep sprinted out, rifle in hand to get eyes on the situation. As he rounded the corner of the BTR behind him, he saw several large arachnid-like Macro-Suits emerge from the same tunnels he had seen before; others rose out from the ground, rubble and metal falling onto Bokep’s men as they towered over the convoy. Several turrets opened fire, with Bokep joining in a symphony of combat as he fired his rifle at the mech’s head and limbs.
Three vehicles down, a Macro drove one of its legs into a BMP, puncturing the hull and killing whoever was inside. The missile launcher on Bokep’s own vehicle landed a lucky hit, decapitating on abomination, causing it to fall into a truck, crushing it beneath its weight. Seeing the changing tides of the firefight, the other Macro’s, now reinforced with several smaller automatons began to scurry back into the dark underground; several used their large appendages to inflict what other damage they could as others dragged both live and wounded men to their deaths. It was over as soon as it began. Lowering his weapon, Bokep heard several cries for help, originating from under the collapsed Macro. Using what engineering tools and vehicles they had nearby, they managed to drag two men out from the wreckage; one’s legs were crushed and broken, the other suffered minor head wounds. After seeking beacons for salvage teams, and to alert other units of the threats in the area, the brigade loaded back up, then continued forward.
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\___Episode Four___/
The Hab-Plex was massive. A macro-structure which could house tens of thousands. Even this gargantuan piece of engineering was one of the smallest of its kind. From the limited intelligence Bokep had managed to see before the 409th’s operation began, the Hab had once been a planned expansion of the existing Lost Angels archology, but after Euruskan vanguard units are the start of the war had hastily captured it, alongside its automated construction and concrete printers, it was rapidly disconnected from the larger organism that was the City of Lost Angels in order to make it harder to recapture. Lowering his IR-Binoculars, Bokep confirmed that their breach point was still viable.
“I see two Leopards, a couple squads of infantry, what look like light indirect platforms, and a machine-gun.”, Said Bokep over the radio.
He was surveying his platoon’s breach point into the Hab-Plex. It was a large access tunnel which connected the Hab’s main industrial plant, a chemical processing facility nearly four square kilometers large. The access tunnel was too valuable to blow in case of attack, and if traveled down quickly enough, would catch any quick reaction forces off guard before they could fully muster.
“Understood, we are a go Bokep, get your platoon into position. As soon as the thermobarics detonate, begin your assault; armor will be right behind you.”, came the reply from the company Sotnik.
Bokep had been given a field commission after the convoy attack had killed his platoon leader; now instead of being responsible for sending nine men to their deaths, it was over forty. Dropping down from the ledge he was on, Bokep slid down a few meters until he joined the rest of his platoon in what was once a blood-bed. {Similar to a river bed, blood beds form after large battles take place over a given piece of terrain. Blood from the slain will begin to erode the ground and form small streams, or rivers which dry up over time.}
“We’re a go, soon as the missiles hit, we move. Remember, this needs to be fast, or it’s all for not.”, he said pulling a smoke grenade from his tac-rig.
As he sat there in that ditch, Bokep strangely felt calm. He hadn’t accepted his fate, but knew that the only thing he could do now was his job. As he felt the heat rush over that crimson patch of dirt, soot, and concrete powder, there was only one weapon of war firing another. Pulling the pin, Bokep threw on his night-vision and threw the smoke grenade as far as he could. Rising from the ditch, Bokep began sprinting forward. There was still a sizable distance to cover between him, his men, and the enemy so these next few moments would be crucial. Moving from shell crater to rubble pile, Bokep made his way through the small field between the ditch, to just outside the first Europan positions. Poking his head above a slanted piece of reinforced concrete, Bokep quickly dropped down as an MG3 opened up on his position.
“Da* * it, Sakorsky, take that f* * *ing pill down down! Yuri, you and Tarik get that PKP set up in that crater. I want suppressive fire on the mortar pit.”, Bokep barked as his men caught up to him.
A series of explosions from inside the beach point sounded as Bokep looked over and saw Sakorsky rapidly load another RPG. Several smaller booms came from behind him as T-90s and a T-14 Armata fired their main guns at the Leopards in near unison.
“Alright motherf* * *ers, let’s finish this…”, Bokep said rising from his cover, advancing once again. Moving up to the now exploded machine-gun emplacement, Bokep set up a firing position on the mesh barriers and caught two Europan soldiers out of position with his Ak-74M.
Vaulting over the cube of rock and mesh, Bokep found himself in a small trench line, shrapnel scatted about from the numerous explosions. Continuing down the line, he found several more corpses, machine-gun bullets riddled them all with one poor soul catching a 54mmr through the eye. The rest of it was a cleanup operation. The one pre-fab building which houses the troops and their leadership was hit by the thermobaric and was little more than yet another rubble pile. As BMPs and BTRs arrived, Bokep mounted into one of the T-90s alongside his command squad. This was only the beginning. As Bokep looked down that dark tunnel, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread as to what might be on the other end of it.
\___Episode Five___/
The ride through the access tunnel was equal parts short, and long. The tunnel itself was a sort of underground highway, lights illuminated it as the convoy progressed through. Bokep and his men rode is silence, a few packing magazines, others messing with their rigs. They had been re-equipped prior to the beginning of the operation with new helmets. They came with small visors which served dual purposes of eye protection, and a sort of heads up display. As the captain of their unit had told Bokep as the new pieces of kit were being handed out,
“We’ve been upgraded. High com has seen fit to change our classification from light infantry, to full vanguard units.” As the convoy slowed, Bokep and his platoon dismounted.
The clean access tunnel had turned into a mix of rubble and unfinished construction. There was the wreck of what Bokep presumed to be an automatic construction macro off to the side of the tunnel, no doubt moved out of the way by Europan forces somewhat recently. Moving forward, Bokep led his platoon through the darkened section of the tunnel as the convoy turned off its floodlights. Their objective was to scout what quick reaction forces the Europans had gathered at the end of the tunnel, and to deploy smoke grenades when the convoy advanced into the hostile positions.
A mechanized frontal assault wasn’t the most tactically sound plan, especially though a natural choke point, but there was much of an alternative without extensive work by combat engineers. As the platoon approached the end of the darkness, Bokep signaled a halt order with his hand. Moving behind a half-destroyed concrete barrier, Bokep raised his binoculars to his visor and let his new equipment do the work for him. A squad of Europan infantry ran over a crossroad as IR lights from several machine-gun emplacements panned across the tunnel exit. A Javalin launcher was located on the second floor of a building, but that seemed to be the heaviest asset available.
“Voru, get your SVD on that Javalin. When I give the signal, take out the operators. Everyone else, find your targets, if you have smoke grenades, or flash bangs, get ready to throw them.”, Bokep said taking two purple smoke grenade from his tac-rig. After several seconds, most of Bokep’s platoon seemed to be in positions along the sides of the tunnel exit.
“Eyes on sir, ready for the signal.”, Voru said, his SVD trained on the Javalin from beside Bokep.
“Execute, execute, execute.”, Bokep said in a calm voice as shortly after, a short volley of SVD fire sounded from Voru.
“Backblast!”, came from across the tunnel as one of the Light Anti-Tank operators in Bokep’s platoon launched what Bokep presumed to be a high explosive RPG round at one of the enplaced machine-guns. The explosion sounded as rifle fire erupted from other positions on both sides.
“Smokes, now!”, Bokep ordered as he pulled the pin from his two smoke grenades, hurling them both in rapid succession into the cross-road. He heard the flood lights on the convoy turn on behind him as they APCs and IFVs rumbled forward.
“Get IR on those heavy weapons positions, let the BMPs smoke em’”, Bokep continued as he flipped on his IR laser.
“This is Vanguard Platoon to convoy, IR lasers on hostile enplaced positions, switch to HE and fire for effect.”, he finished as he fired through the mix of white and purple smoke at the Javalin position, suppressing anyone who Voru hadn’t already picked off. 409th BMPs and BTRs rumbled forward through the smoke, autocanons firing.
Gathering himself off the ground, Bokep advanced through the smoke as the rest of his platoon disembarked and followed him into the fray of combat. Vaulting over a sandbag wall, the purple smoke dissipated, Bokep put three rounds into a lone infantryman who was already wounded by shrapnel wounds, killing him. The team following alongside Bokep moved quickly through the small structure’s first floor. There was a stairwell off to the side in the corner of the building, taking a position against the opposite wall, facing the now fully reactive Europans as a fire-team began sweeping the rest of the building. Several volleys of gunshots sounded, followed by a long silence which had Bokep nervous.
“Clear!”, came from the second floor in perfect Russian, putting Bokep at ease.
As Europan infantry and armored assets began setting up bases of fire on Bokep and his unit, a medium class Europan exosuit rounded the corner. It sounded its war horn, sending several heavy autocanon rounds into the face of a BRDM, followed by an anti-tank missile which would hit the vehicle’s ammorack causing several internal explosions and ultimately destroying it. The exosuit’s automated machine-guns would rip through the limited cover Bokep had, injuring several of his men, and killing one outright.
“Get that RPG up here now!”, Bokep barked, standing and firing a volley of automatic fire towards the advancing Europans.