Over a few weeks of fierce combat, the Eurasian Skirmish 21st Corps was completely annihilated. Over fifty thousand soldiers were either killed or captured. Nearly five thousand tanks and armored vehicles were destroyed, along with dozens of advanced Flanker fighter jets. The enemy also faced major obstacles such as a lack of manpower and weapons, and abnormal weather and storms. This caused their retreat to be delayed, unintentionally creating an opportunity for the Oceania air force to launch a fierce bombardment without significant resistance.
Suffering a series of heavy losses in a short time, they were forced to withdraw from eastern Logravic in a tactically flawed manner, directly leading to the horrific event known as "The Death Alley." A Eurasian convoy, including civilians and wounded soldiers, was instantly wiped out. No one survived that tragedy. Kritchenburg hailed it as the greatest victory in their history.
But it didn't change the fact that both sides were too deeply mired in war. As technology developed, the soldiers on the front lines became like lab rats placed in a cage full of dangers to test out these insane inventions. There were tanks, planes, napalm bombs, phosphorus bombs—all of them were terrifying. But what scared me more was that human compassion had completely vanished here. We were forced to kill others with those destructive creations, directly taking away the pillars of innocent families on the other side of the front line.
We were forced to kill the husbands and wives of the Eurasian people, forced to lay our hands on the parents of small children, causing them to suffer undeserved pain. Was this punishment for the children on the home front so they would see the great harm of war? But then, that punishment would turn those orphaned children into killing machines filled with hatred. Worse still, if those children without parents grew up to be leaders, their hatred would lead them to cause millions of people to face a similar fate.
We stopped at a large town located in a remote and desolate area of Logravic after several days of relentless pursuit of the enemy. By this point, everyone was exhausted and sleepy, with no strength left to work. Our uniforms were covered in unknown amounts of dirt and blood. Our faces were vacant, lifeless, and without spirit. We trudged into the village, wearily asking to stay for a few days. The locals shuddered when they saw us passing by. Their eyes betrayed fear and anxiety.
Of course, because people like us were no longer human. We were dead, truly dead, dead in pain and despair. No matter what I say, I died the day I first set foot in the recruitment office. At that time, I believed in what they called a "war of national liberation," that once my hand took the life of a "barbaric" enemy on the other side of the front, I would enjoy all the comforts of life on Earth. Mansions, cars, money, fame...
And what did I get in return? Nothing but extreme obsession and horror. I killed people and became a monster in the eyes of others. When I used a knife to kill that young Eurasian soldier back then, I was arrogant, believing that what I was doing was right, that I was protecting world peace, and protecting the happy families behind the front line. Later, I learned that it was just a way to brainwash soldiers, forcing them onto the battlefield like easily controlled puppets.
However, I could never be brave enough to stand up against the officials who were leisurely enjoying their lives. I could only be here, in the trenches, in the devastated city, having to struggle against hunger, disease, war, and the bombs and bullets from the enemy. But at least I was luckier than others because I still had friends and a lover to fight alongside. To face death together, a death that would not be painful but gentle and peaceful.
We walked to the deserted police station and school on the outskirts of the town, using it as a temporary resting place. This place seemed a bit better than the dilapidated bunkers on the Kritchenburg or Russymark battlefields. Outside, there was a bold red banner that read "Danger Zone." It seemed this area had once been used by the enemy as a field hospital or a supply depot for the front line.
"Everyone, move some of the gear in. My team and I will check the area to be safe. Mikhail, Petrov, Augusta, let's go."
I used my Mark-18 rifle to shatter the glass door and carefully climbed inside. As expected, it was indeed a chaotic mess. There were glass shards, metal pieces, clothes, and even corpses. But we felt something was strange. The school was too empty and silent. All the rooms were bare, with no people. The only things left were the sound of our footsteps and the lonely wind blowing by.
"My God, the Eurasian guys took all the furniture. What did they steal all the tables, chairs, computers, and school supplies for? Is that not excessive?" Augusta complained to the group.
Ilaina added, "No, they loot everything wherever they go. Even washing machines, refrigerators, and TVs don't escape being stolen by the soldiers. There must be a reason that drives them to do it, right?"
Petrov sighed and said, "Their military officers embezzle all their salaries, so they have to fend for themselves in the trenches. They can't do anything but steal, right, Klaus?"
"Probably. Or they could be extracting the electronic chips to take back and produce cruise missiles to throw at civilians, calling it 'de-bourgeoisification.' What a ridiculous reason to invade another country. At least those missiles do a decent amount of damage, you can't joke about that."
After exploring for a while, the team didn't find anything valuable except for a few motionless dried animal corpses, along with a little blood splattered on the walls, deeply ingrained with bullet marks. I quietly went outside and ordered the soldiers to move the gear in. Suddenly, our superiors called and informed us that we had been granted permission to stay in this village of Gorka for a certain period. They also asked us to build this place into an Area Outpost.
An Outpost is known as an intermediary point between the rear and the front line, a place to transfer supplies and soldiers to the front. Outposts are usually scattered only a few kilometers behind the battlefield. But that's more than enough for everyone to rest. Outposts are usually surrounded by a good number of military camps and bases, and there are residential areas nearby, so the work here is relatively easy. It's mostly just taking turns on guard duty and shifting shifts.
After that, we busily carried furniture inside and swept everything up, together dealing with the scattered debris on the ground. People came and went in a hurry. The moss-covered houses were quickly cleared, replaced by neat rows of hand-sized 12.7mm ammo boxes. Next to them were sandbags to reinforce the windows, along with radios and many other important items.
In the school's main hall, we used it as a temporary warehouse for unnecessary materials. In the courtyard, tents were set up as a field hospital, and the classrooms were converted into intelligence briefing areas. Cardboard boxes were placed everywhere, along with a few guns for security. We also tore down the tattered Skirmish flag on the roof of the police station, replacing it with the democratic Logravic flag.
Just then, a shocking piece of news came in. It turned out that in the capital of Eurasian, a large-scale terrorist bombing and a high-level riot had occurred, carried out by the Eurasian Resistance forces. They were people just like us, Eurasian people who had abandoned their homeland to side with Oceania in order to end their lives as slaves to the officials.
This could be considered the final straw, officially marking a major turning point in the war. Their capital was completely engulfed in flames, not much different from Kritchenburg before.
Convoys stretching for hundreds of kilometers, loaded with soldiers and weapons, rushed into the urban battlefield, where they would have to fight against their own compatriots. However, based on battlefield experience, there was no chance for the Eurasian Resistance to win such an easy victory.
They only had a total of about 24,000 members, most of whom were young gunmen who lacked knowledge of the enemy. They even wanted to launch a small-scale general uprising to shake up the surrounding area and spread the anti-war wave.
But how could a small military organization like them dare to do what no one had ever done before, which was to attack the headquarters of a world-leading military like Eurasian? It was a completely suicidal plan. Just think, facing millions of soldiers equipped with all kinds of weapons, tanks, planes, and warships, while they themselves had very little equipment and manpower.
Even with enough manpower, it would still require a careful and cunning strategy to attack the city of Moskwatov, which had many solid and well-fortified defensive positions that were too difficult to approach, let alone penetrate. Attacking Eurasian was almost impossible. It would never happen.
Ilaina became visibly annoyed, and she said sarcastically, "Honestly, who came up with this ridiculous and nonsensical plan? Don't they have any logic at all? Launching a war on their own vast territory, while they don't even have a single gun, is nothing short of suicide."
Augusta sneered, "That's the result of constantly rambling about the education ministry's nonsensical theories. Or maybe they still think Eurasian is too weak to defend a city?"
"If those damn pigs were really like that, we wouldn't be sitting here talking nonsense with each other. And who knows, maybe Ilaina and Klaus would have already been married, had children, and it would all be over?"
I immediately grabbed the back of Mikhail's head, the one who just uttered something that couldn't be saved.
"Since when can you read other people's minds! Are you jealous because you've never held a girl's hand? I feel sorry for all the single people."
"Whatever. You can mock me all you want. I don't want to get kicked out of the house by my girlfriend anyway. Why suffer to find a lover? Anyway, I'm going to prepare dinner. Augusta, Ilaina, you two can take care of dinner. We'll handle the rest of the gear."
Suddenly, a convoy of Humvees unexpectedly appeared and came to our outpost, along with countless special weapons. Among them were the multi-purpose Strom-15 thermal-imaging UAVs and M-777 howitzers. These were the things that would help strengthen our defense system against large enemy counterattacks and even serve as tools for us to launch surprise attacks.
"Hey! You guys, here's some hot stuff to shove in the mouths of these Easterners!"
"Finally, the officers decided to get off their butts. It's lucky we don't have to use food as a weapon like Eurasian. Haha!" Petrov laughed gleefully.
"If you say that, they'll launch a few phosphorus rounds at your head, Petrov."
"I'm not scared of anything. Just give them a few 155mm rounds, and they'll be silent as dogs."
With that, we helped each other carry all the gear into the corridor, helping the others rest. It was getting dark. The gentle sunset shone on us, the people who were on duty day and night in the dangerous battlefield. The wind blew past us, bringing a strange feeling.
Such peace...
In the evening, everyone sat together in the corridor and courtyard of the police station, enjoying a meal of only a few pieces of bread and thick tomato soup to fill our stomachs. But even with just that, we felt more at peace than at a feast filled with delicious food in the middle of all the fire and smoke outside.
The trees here shone with a vibrant, golden light. Red mountain ash berries were ripe on the branches. The white highways ran toward the horizon, and the eateries buzzed like beehives spreading rumors that peace was slowly approaching.
A few weeks later, the front line had been pushed back significantly because our side had encountered a series of human waves and modern T-72-90A tank waves. Because of this, from the police station, we could easily see the enemy's combat positions, so we couldn't go outside anymore.
Before that, we had returned to the town to help civilians evacuate. Then we proceeded to build an artillery position and reinforcements, including many scattered, close-together trenches in front, followed by houses used as hospitals. The road was a bore, with bizarre walls on both sides that narrowed. We felt suffocated, like a nightmare of going down into a cramped, narrow place where the walls on both sides seemed to stand close together and press in. We had to stop, squeeze, struggle, and push the corpses aside. It was terrible.
The trenches were dug next to the road, and the road was erased. The trees were uprooted. The trenches had chewed up and swallowed almost the entire length of the road. The rest was overgrown with dirt and grass, and gradually, day by day, it blended in with the field. In many places in the trenches, a sandbag had burst, leaving a muddy hole. We could see the exposed layers of road stone at eye level, or the roots of the roadside trees that had been bent down, hardened into the trench walls. The trench walls were high and low like a wave of earth full of fragments, broken pieces, and black foam that the field had spewed out and piled up next to the trench.
We walked to the place where the tangled communication trenches met. On top of the messy mound silhouetted against the gray clouds, a small, somber sign had been nailed, leaning in the direction of the wind. The communication trench system continued to narrow. From all parts of the military district, people frantically rushed to the aid station, becoming more crowded and backed up in the deep paths.
The narrow alleys were bleak and scattered with bodies. The earth walls, in uneven sections, were cut by completely new holes, funnel-shaped holes in the earth that had just been dug, looking distinctly different from the moldy soil around them. In them, dirt-covered bodies were squatting, their jaws resting on their knees or leaning against the wall, their mouths silent like their guns propped up next to them. Two or three of the dead stood facing the living, their faces smeared with blood, or turned away, their eyes looking up at the space in the sky.
Ilaina and I, as usual, started to wake up after a short nap of only a few hours. We changed our clothes, had a little breakfast, and immediately went back to work. I took the drone, activated it, and started controlling it to fly very high to avoid the ZSU-23 anti-aircraft guns.
Since we got the drones, our lives have become a little easier. Now, instead of having to kill others with our own hands, we can easily kill them with a kid's toy flycam. And because of that, I have almost completely forgotten that feeling of self-torment, even considering this a bizarre hobby.
"This is so boring. Do the Eurasian guys do nothing but huddle in these bunkers? There's no movement at all." Ilaina complained, as there had been no sign of the enemy for days.
I rested my chin on my hand and said, "I think they're so exhausted that they can't even come out. How about we give them a breakfast of grenades to liven things up?"
I turned and double-clicked the mouse to order the drone to drop a grenade into the enemy trench. The grenade quickly fell at high speed, rolling next to a group of sleepy Skirmish soldiers. With a bang, they were literally blown to pieces. Blood and flesh splattered everywhere. Afterward, a mournful scream echoed. All of them died a miserable death. Three more lives were left here...
I burst out laughing and bragged to my girlfriend. "Amazing! I got three kills this morning. Hehe, at this rate, I'll be a general in a few years. Now, Ilaina, do you want to try? I heard you're bad with technology, right?"
Ilaina was a little flustered. She tried to argue, but it was useless. I stood up, gave her my seat, and briefly explained how the drone worked. But it seemed my girlfriend didn't know much about this, so as soon as I handed it over to her, the drone wobbled and almost crashed to the ground.
In a panic, she made it fly straight into the enemy's bunker. Suddenly, a loud explosion roared from a distance. The Eurasian ammunition depot exploded, heavily damaged just because our UAV crashed into it. Everyone at the base was awakened by the explosion and rushed out to see what happened. Ilaina was stunned. Due to her confusion, she had accidentally caused heavy losses for the enemy. The enemy immediately tried to put out the fire, but it was too late. The other ammunition depots also exploded, like a chain reaction. In total, several thousand tons of ammunition were destroyed in that short moment.
By midday, we heard that the enemy would launch a counterattack in just half an hour. It was terrifying. Everyone's faces showed signs of exhaustion and fatigue from being constantly tormented, both mentally and physically. And I thought we wouldn't have to fight in this damn place anymore. It turned out we still had to drag our bodies to the battlefield.
Mikhail cursed in frustration.
"Damn it. We just sat down! Why do we have to fight again! Damn those Eastern bastards!"
Petrov, who was devouring a food box, also cursed a few times.
"If I had known, I would have shoved all that spoiled food into the prisoners' faces and scared them."
"That wouldn't do any good. It would just be a waste of time. Brothers, let's go. They'll probably bet big on this one. The same as always, whoever kills the fewest Eurasian soldiers will be responsible for dinner."
The whole team shouted in unison, "Agreed!"
The five of us began to grab our backpacks and rifles, moving to a suitable position, soaked to the bone. The other units also quickly stabilized the front. The machine guns were loaded with ammunition, and the Javelin system was carefully and thoroughly checked. Arriving at the location designated by our superiors, we began to spread out, filling the shell craters at the edge of the trench, placing heavy 12.7mm machine guns on them, along with the meager amount of ammunition we got from our reserves.
Petrov also brought a few anti-tank cannons in case we encountered enemy armor, along with a few dozen rounds and 2 launchers. Ilaina and Augusta prepared a medical supply kit with painkillers and bandages.
In the sky, the sound of fighter jets suddenly roared. They were Raptor aircraft responsible for ground support, specializing in wiping out enemy convoys and T-72 tanks. It has been proven that they are the treasure of the Oceania army. Without the Raptors, we would be just a few weak soldiers, not strong enough to fight guerrillas, let alone regular troops. They circled a few times, then launched forward at a speed that was hard to see with the naked eye. The sound of the sky being torn apart by the engines also drowned out the sound of the downpour.
"Haha, there they are. The iron arrows have appeared. We're going to have a barbecue for dinner tonight." Petrov laughed gleefully when he heard the terrifying sound of the engines.
Immediately after, the sound that shook the earth also echoed. We heard huge explosions from a distance. Smoke and blinding, seemingly endless flashes of light erupted. We were suddenly reminded of our memories in Russymark. Nothing had changed much.
This war will go on forever. It's certain, but is there any way to end it? It's so sad for our generation. It's sad that tens of thousands of talented people have to put on faded, ragged uniforms and rush into trenches filled with blood and tears...
"Um... Klaus. Can you go get some small mortar rounds for the team? I think the Eurasian guys are mainly using tanks, so we'll use drones to fight them, which will minimize the risk." Mikhail suddenly turned and said.
"Of course. We still have half an hour to prepare anyway. Everyone wait here. I'll go get some more mortar rounds."
I gently climbed out of my hiding place, crossing each trench in the rain to get more supplies. Suddenly, an explosion threw me into the air. The ground in front of me was shattered. Clumps of dirt poured down like rain. I felt a strong jolt from behind. My sleeve was torn by a piece of shrapnel. I clenched my hand. I didn't feel any pain.
But that didn't reassure me, because the pain from these wounds always comes later. I tried to stroke my arm. It was scraped but still intact. Then something hit my head hard, making me dizzy. Only one thought flashed like lightning: don't pass out! I felt like I was sinking into a black, muddy hole and then immediately surfaced. A piece of artillery shrapnel hit my helmet, but it came from too far away and didn't have enough force to penetrate it. I wiped the mud from my eyes.
In front of me, a large hole gaped in the ground. I couldn't see it very well. Usually, cannon rounds don't easily fall into the same hole, so I wanted to jump into it to hide. With a lunge, I flew forward, my body still plastered to the ground like a fish.
A few seconds later, there was another whistling sound of a round. I quickly curled up, groping for a place to hide. I felt something soft on my left side, so I pressed my body against it. It was soft, and I moaned. The ground cracked open. The air pressure sounded like thunder in my ears. I burrowed under that soft object, pulling it over me—wood, fabric, a shelter, a shelter, a miserable shelter from the shrapnel that fell like rain.
I tried to regain my breath, trying to look around to see how bad the situation was. Just then, countless T-72 tanks slowly appeared. They lined up in a long horizontal line, simultaneously firing their cannons at the Oceania Area Outpost. The rounds with large explosive plates hit, easily destroying the defensive position in the blink of an eye. I cursed under my breath, "Damn it, are they taking stuff out of a museum to fight each other?"
I grabbed an ammo box next to me and immediately rushed into the fierce barrage of enemy fire. I ran frantically through the tangled trenches. The whistling sound of bullets right behind me made me even more tense. After struggling with the machine gun fire, I finally returned to my position. Without resting, I hurriedly picked up a Javelin launcher, aiming it at the line of tanks that were rampaging.
"Everyone! To battle stations! The barbarians are coming!"
"Klaus! Did you get hit? Give me the Javelin. I'll take down the lead T-72-80." Petrov came to my side and said.
"No, it's too dangerous. Let me do it."
I carefully stuck my head out and gently locked onto the target. I fired. The armor-piercing round whizzed away, tearing through the air. The target was instantly wiped out. The lead tank was hit in the undercarriage. It stopped, and smoke began to pour out. A few seconds later, the command tank exploded, its turret flying straight into the sky.