Quoted By:
>Viewpoint, Sergeant Otho Meermann , Equasharian Confederation
Otho was viewing a video of his sister, a war photograph based on the sealine, his tea and a warm war ration cooling in the frozen air of Thion.
"- My Dear Brother...
Ships, Icebreakers both, crashed against each other like giant beasts fighting over prey; their hulls tearing open, spilling cargo and passengers onto the sand. Other vessels exploded violently, throwing debris high above the ocean surface. Explosives ripped through their decks, destroying anything within range. One ship burst into flames even before sinking. It sent black clouds billowing upward, blotting out the stars.
Within moments, the entire port area was awash in flame. Thousands upon thousands of fires burned fiercely. They consumed everything – wooden structures, metal equipment, flesh, blood..."
Otho noded, impressive feed. Here the war appeared tamed in comparison. Who would dare breach the Mountains?
Then beyond the minefield, the soil began to crack and the horror of war took over.
days laters.
"Hurry, we have to hurry," whispered Otho. "They'll be here any second." He glanced back towards the sky, looking desperately for help.
His eyes met with those of one of the soldiers standing beside him. Both . Most of the troops stationed on the outskirts of the camp had been killed by enemy missiles, counter batteries failing everywhere.
These past few weeks, the enemy had concentrated their firepower on them, in the Cold Reach moutain, impregnable fortresses atop volcanoes.
Only a few survived. But none of them could do anything about the advancing horde of monsters.
Not without risking their own lives. The attackers were too fast. And there was no way they could hold off so many enemies.
Especially not when most of the weapons used to defend the bastion were destroyed.
Otho stared around, trying to see where the hell the rest of his platoon was. At least twenty men had gathered behind them. All of whom looked just as desperate, hopeless and helpless. All of them carried guns or grenades. Many of the survivors couldn't stand. Others clutched bloody wounds. A couple of them stood staring blankly ahead, while others crouched down, clutching their heads in pain. Even though they hadn't yet seen combat, every man and woman present understood how deadly trench warfare really was.
Some of the younger ones began whimpering, unable to cope with what they saw. None of it mattered. Because all of them knew that if they didn't get away from here soon, they wouldn't survive. That much he'd learned during training. In fact, it seemed almost impossible to escape a battlefield once you're caught up in the thick of things. You can run but your pursuers will catch up eventually. Or maybe they won't.
Maybe they'll give up chasing after you. Either way, they would die.
