After months of rebuilding and reorganisation, Hivesmarshal Trimmel and Queen Chrysalis are ready to launch their second invasion of Equestria. This time, they vow not to fail.
After the retreat back to the border months prior, Trimmel spent months meticulously creating his plan for a second invasion of Equestria. With the approval of Queen Chrysalis, the Changelings once against advance into Equestria.
The Heer will not fail this time, this time, they will be victorious; this time, they will break the ponies.
“If you don’t mind me asking, when did you learn about the Key Lake facility?” The reporter asked.
Trimmel placed a hoof on his chin, rubbing it and thinking. “It was back in 1016, just after my 44th birthday.” The reporter stuttered, choking on his words for a moment. “I know, I’ve aged horribly. You actually thought I was a well aged 60 year old, hate to break it to you, but I’m only 50 years young.”
“The Key Lake facility though,” Trimmel continued, enjoying the uncomfortable shifting due to his mistake. “I found out quite unspectacularly, read it in a file. Though I recall my confrontation with Chrysalis afterwards to be quite lively…”
9 months following Trimmels retreat from Equestria.
The tower of Chrysalis was a daunting structure, a black spire which stretched miles into the sky, the greatest feat of Changeling engineering. That was until today at least, the day Trimmel was briefed on the tactical weapon project recently finished at Key Lake. Tactical weapons, just a fanciful dream for the longest time, now a very real, and dangerous tool in the arsenal.
Trimmel stood in a lift waiting, the small metal box shot up the tower towards the peak of the spire, the personal apartments of Chrysalis. Standing next to him was a nervous Synoval, the fez wearing changeling doing his best to straighten out his uniform and look presentable. Synoval always made the best effort to upstage Trimmel at every turn, always desperate to get his old position of Hivesmarshal back.
Right now though, he was actually trying to protect Trimmel in his own way. The Hivesmarshal was seething that the queen had invested in something like nuclear weapons without consulting him, and Synoval was right in thinking that any outbursts would reflect on him as well. It was strange that Synoval was the mediator for once, normally he was trying to incite something.
“Remember Trimmel…” Synoval began, Trimmels eyes swivelled to the side as they tracked the movement of the other changelings eyes. The completely deaf Hivesmarshal watching his lips form words. “Don’t start a fight, be calm and be collected. Remember how trigger happy the queens guard are, they’ll shoot you without hesitation for a perceived threat.”
“Don’t worry Synoval, I’m the picture of calmness and security.” Trimmel assured his subordinate.
Shuddering slightly as it reached the top, the lift stopped. Ahead of the pair, the shining metal doors parted and revealed a large open space. Chrysalis’s apartments were as luxurious as one could imagine, fit for only the richest of lings . Almost everything was coloured in black or dark grey, her signature colours. While all other monarchs had their fancy castles and classical architecture, Chrysalis was a fan of modern architecture: square sofas, hanging glass lights, striped carpets, it was luxurious, but more typical of a millionaire and not a queen.
Sitting on a sofa facing through a window which made up the entire wall was Chrysalis herself. The queen of all changelings was lounging around and staring out to sea, lost in thought. In her mouth, she held a cigarette extender between her lips, gently puffing smoke out from a lit cigarette on the end. She didn’t look much like a queen, she never did really.
Trimmel immediately strode out, ignoring the queens guardsling who stepped out to try and stop him. He made a beeline towards Chrysalis and greeted her in a loud voice as he strode across the room “Chrysalis you old cock! What’s this I hear about you not briefing me on a weapons project.”
If Trimmel could hear, he’d have heard Synoval mutter from behind him “here we go…”
As he strode towards Chrysalis, the changeling queen turned around and caught sight of the approaching Hivesmarshal. The queen visibly cringed; she’d obviously been expecting this kind of confrontation with Trimmel. Sometimes it was hard to tell if those two even liked each other, perhaps it was a love hate relationship.
Before he could reach her, a queens guardsling appeared out of seemingly thin air and stood between them. The matte purple armour of the guard blended very well into the dark room, perhaps it was a tactical choice. The guard lit up his horn, magic pulsing around the grip of his pistol.
“I suggest you apologise to our queen.” The guard growled.
“Let me tell you something son, during the Stalliongrad revolution my team was found out by one of their commissars. To keep our cover, I beat him to death with a folding chair. So what do you think I could do with this knife then?” Trimmel explained.
The guardsling looked down, alarm plastered on his face. Trimmel had drawn a knife from his strap on his leg using his hoof and slipped it between an overlap between two plates of his armour. In one quick movement the knife would be imbedded in his heart. The guardling froze, the magic gripping his pistol faltering.
“If you’re quite done traumatising my guards Trimmel…” an indignant voice drawled.
The marshal gave a smirk to the still frozen guard before withdrawing his knife and sheathing it. He stepped past the guard and approached Chrysalis, Synoval quietly apologised to the guard. Chrysalis took another drag from her cigarette and exhaled it into the air as Trimmel sat across from her.
The queen of all changeling lifted a silver cigarette case and offered it to Trimmel, the marshal picked one up in his magic and placed it in his lips. Synoval arrived as well now and took one for himself, he sat down next to Trimmel. Taking a box of matches from the table between them, Synoval struck one and lit both of their cigarettes before placing the matches on the table separating all of them.
The trio remained in silence for a few seconds. Each composing themselves before the upcoming argument. Chrysalis held up a hoof and shook, as she raised her voice and addressed the room “everyone get out.”
Guarlings seemed to appear out of the shadows and folds in the curtains as no less than a full platoons worth of guards seemed to stream out. As they were leaving, Chrysalis pointed at one of the guards “except you Vaspier, you stay.”
The guard in question stopped, then was surrounded by a green flame as he transformed. The form of a changeling guard slipped away as Vaspier, the great imperial nobody, appeared before them. Chrysalis, thoroughly unimpressed, gave him a bland look “don’t you have something else to be doing, like your job?” She asked.
“Probably, but I felt obligated to be here, what with my role in all this.” Vaspier countered. The nobody made his way over to their sofas and took a seat.
“We all know you just wanted to watch the chaos unfold. Bloody parasite you are.” Synoval blandly stated.
“What can I say, I’m a habitual anarchist.” Vaspier chuckled.
“Didn’t you shoot every anarchist in the country.” Trimmel asked.
“If he didn’t then he’s possibly the worst Spymaster I’ve ever appointed.” Chrysalis chuckled. “Could you use the door next time as well instead of sneaking in here. One of these days someones going to get trigger happy and put a bullet in your head.”
Vaspier chose to totally ignore Chrysalis’s comment on him sneaking in as he addressed the queen “Just eliminating all the competition.” Vaspier explained. The great nobody pulled a flask out of the folds of his great coat and started to sip from it “don’t let me interrupt you.”
Blowing a puff of smoke into the air, Trimmel spoke up “I loathe to admit it, but the bastards right. What the fuck Chrysalis?”
“It’s your highness and…” the Queen of all changelings started before being interrupted by Trimmel.
“We’re in private, I’m not calling you that.” He angrily muttered.
Chrysalis let out an angry breath through her teeth “I’m not inclined to brief you on every project my teams are undertaking. You may be the supreme commander, but this is my country, so don’t you dare to assume you can order me around.”
“If I recall Chrysalis, you gave me total military authority. That project was designed with military application, why wasn’t I even briefed on its existence?” Trimmel seethed, using his magic to push the cigarette into an ash tray.
“This isn’t military, this is research. You could argue that toaster production has military applications and start sticking your hooves into it if you wanted to. I have to draw the line somewhere Trimmel, otherwise you may as well be king.” Chrysalis snorted.
“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” Trimmel sniffed.
Before Chrysalis could shout an angry response, it was Vaspier who spoke up “ohhh they’re getting personal now.” He let out a loud laugh.
“Vaspier…” Synoval spoke up for the first time in a while “I’m going to remind you that you’re within punching distance and Trimmel has a hitting things when he’s pissed habit. In fact…” the other marshal shifted away from Trimmel and sat on the far side of the sofa.
Getting past the others brief interaction, Chrysalis returned to her Hivesmarshal “Don’t you dare to assume you could rule the hives, you’re nothing without me, I made you. You shouldn’t assume that you’re so irreplaceable to me as well, I can get any number of lings to replace you, some of who are in this room right now!”
Trimmel suddenly let out a hearty laugh “You think Synoval could do what I do! That’s a good one, that really is.”
“Yeah not to take sides here” Synoval interjected “but I don’t want his job. I want to be Hivesmarshal yes, but Trimmel does so much extra on top of that and basically runs the military economy, I can’t do that.”
Synoval made a good point, despite wanting Trimmels position as Hivesmarshal and supreme commander, his job had expanded so far beyond that. Trimmel basically ran the military economy, he had his say in every aspect of production and manufacturing in the entire queendom. Any other ling would have buckled under the mental pressure of running everything at this point, every ling except Trimmel. The pressure was taxing on his health, and he was ageing horribly, but he was running it. Synoval wanted to be military leader, but not leader of the economy.
“The nukes are of military application, they’re a military tool, I should have been included, let alone briefed on its existence!” Trimmel shouted.
“They didn’t even start as a weapon! It was just a power generation tool meant to take strain off our: oil, steel and coal resources. This whole weaponisation of it came about in the past year.” The queen of all changelings explained.
“And let’s not even get into its usage, you made a strategic weapon! This weapon destroys whole city’s, if you want to rule equestria, then blowing it up isn’t the way to win this war.” Trimmel exclaimed as he slammed a hoof on the table separating them.
“I agree! They failed as strategic weapons, the ones we’re building are designed as tactical weapons, drop them on an airfield or mountain you can’t get around.” Chrysalis shouted.
Trimmel picked himself up and strode across the room. He picked up a chair in his magic and started to smash it against the floor again and again and again. Splinters flew everywhere as it broke under the immense pressure of his attack. Once it was thoroughly destroyed, he turned around and roared “that makes so much fucking sense!”
Silence reigned in the room as everyling waited for Chrysalis or Trimmel to make the next move. One of them was going to do something, it was just a question of which one. Chrysalis sighed as she held out her cigarette case once again “want another one?”
Trimmel straightened out his jacket as he walked towards her “please.”
The Hivesmarshal sat down in his original seat as he took the matches off the table and lit his cigarette. “So then, what are the details of this project.”
Vaspier began to cackle, slapping a slightly disturbed Synoval on the shoulder “mum and dad have such a toxic relationship don’t they. You two are perfect for each other!”
“And you are still within Trimmels punching distance.” Synoval warned “could I also get one of those?” He gestured to the cigarettes.
The queen of all changelings lifted the box of matches in her magic and struck one. The flame lit up as she offered the match around. The various changelings leant forwards in their seats as they lit the cigarettes. Pulling back and collapsing into their seats, the changelings engaged in another round of total silence as they fuelled their collective nicotine addiction.
Chrysalis stumped her cigarette down on an ashtray and waved a hoof “Synoval, get us glasses and a bottle of Port from the cabinet.”
The changeling marshal made absolutely no complaints as he stood up and made his way across the room towards a drinks cabinet. Although he made the best possible effort to be quiet and keep an ear on the conversation.
“Pooling together our fissile material into a series of reactors across the country, we’re able to build a tactical nuke every month. I’ve already built up a small stockpile on the weapons, 1 city buster and 2 tacticals.” Chrysalis explained “They’re airdropped from strategic bombers onto any targets we can mark. The impact radius is about 150m, though the radiation and full blast radius could be a few km, we’ve only tested a city buster before, so info on the tactical’s is only theoretical.” chrysalis explained.
At this point, Synoval returned with the port and glasses for all the lings. He placed the four glasses down on the wooden table and delicately poured the Port into the glasses. Each ling, even Vaspier, took one as they waited for Trimmels obvious question.
“I see the validity of the tactical nukes, I do. However, I’ve now read the reports and watched the tape of the detonation, I flatly refuse to drop one on other soldiers.” Trimmel said, swirling his port around.
“Won’t be entirely up to you, I’ve created a four-person system for deployment of the weapons. Each ling needs to be in unanimous agreement for the deployment otherwise it doesn’t go through.” Chrysalis spoke as she took a sip from her port.
“Who gets a vote?” Trimmel inquired, he took a sip from the port before having a drag from his cigarette.
“Me and you obviously.” She pointed out “Apangesis also gets a vote, it’s his pilots who’ll be dropping the bombs so he has the yes or no with weather or security. Last is Lysander, he doesn’t have any particularly strong views on the matter, but I wanted each armed forces branch to have a say. The city buster is off the table though, I’m keeping that one permanently in reserve.”
Trimmel nodded in understanding “why make a city buster if you aren’t planning on using it.”
“Rumours, nothing you need to worry about.” Chrysalis tried to deflect.
Instead of Trimmel who asked the next question, it was in fact Vaspier. Acting like a good friend and laughing up until now, he suddenly turned serious and demanding like the flick of a switch. It’s why he had such a horrible reputation among the military, with his seemingly endless personalities and perfect control over his emotions, you never knew what he was going to do or what he was thinking.
“I find it strange that your spymaster hasn’t heard these rumours. Do enlighten us your majesty.”
“It’s none of your concern Vaspier, remember your place.” Chrysalis warned.
“My place is hearing rumours just like Trimmels is shooting things. You’ve hidden weapons from him and now information from me.” Vaspier continued, his voice low, tone dark “We need to know what’s going on.”
Chrysalis sighed, she probable regretted inviting Vaspier to this conversation. “This doesn’t leave the room, if it does, then you’re dead. Vaspier, don’t send any spies there or I’ll tear off your wings and throw you through the window. Are we clear?”
Vaspier and Trimmel nodded, confirming they knew how serious Chrysalis was. The queen only ever made threats she would keep. Nothing was a bluff when it came to her death threats. Synoval meanwhile shifted uncomfortably, no longer sure he was meant to be here. Nether the less, he nodded for the queen to continue.
“In the far north of the Griffonian continent is the dread peninsula, home of the undead. As a backer of the arcturian order, they pass information directly to me of any happenings in the north. Nothing concrete has been confirmed yet, but the dead are moving. Increased sightings, more guards going missing, flashes of necrotic magic rising higher out of the magehold. It might be nothing, just rumours, but that’s not a chance I’m willing to take.” Chrysalis said slowly and deliberately, she made sure that each ling understood exactly what she was saying.
Vaspier remained silent, his expression unreadable. Trimmel meanwhile took a drag from his cigarette, then a sip of port. Synoval just continued to shuffle uncomfortably, probably working up the courage to ask something.
“So then…” chrysalis began as she turned the conversation back on track “what’s your plan for the second invasion, the details I’ve been getting are sparse at best.”
“Well…” Trimmel started.
Present day
Trimmel concluded his story, the Longswordian reporter nodded in understanding. The pony gave a small smile as he continued to take notes and write down points on the conversation. The reporter then reached out to the tape recorder on the table between them. He flicked it off and took the tape out, stashing it off to the left he placed a different tape inside and readied himself to click the record button again.
“Shit, I wasn’t supposed to tell you about that.” Trimmel placed his face in his hoof. Although the Dread League was public knowledge now, what with their war against the Arcturian order a couple years back, but Chrysalis didn’t want anyone to know that the Changelings had some forewarning.
“Its fine, I already knew.” The reporter reassured with a smile “I was the correspondent in the Arcturian order before it collapsed.”
“Really? Well colour me surprised; I didn’t think any of you lot made it out alive.” Trimmel exclaimed in surprise.
When the Dread League invaded the Arcturian order, the Griffon knights fought back valiantly against the undead horde. But they were quickly overwhelmed and totally collapsed under the pressure of an undead army, vicious mind control magic turning knights on each other as ghouls ripped the living apart. Most publicised of all, the Arcturian order had allowed a few foreign reporters in country, hoping the images of the undead would garner international support. When the order collapsed, the few reporters had suffered a gruesome fate, forced by their undead captors to film Undead atrocities before being dragged into the magehold and never seen again.
“Me and my cameraman were the only survivors.” The reporter confirmed.
Trimmel was about to ask a whole load of questions, almost no one had gotten out of there alive. How in the world had a reporter and his cameraman gotten out alive when hundreds of thousands of experienced soldiers and civilians were doomed. The Dread league had immediately solidified their lines on the modern Arcturian borders where they remained today, monitored by the Griffon empire. So how in the world had this pony and his cameraman managed to cross miles of dead ground and get past the roving hordes of Vamponys.
“Yes the cameraman was recording the whole time, yes the tape still exists, yes Grover VI has it, yes you can probably request a clone of it, yes it will probably be denied.” the reporter answered pre-emptively.
Swinging the conversation back on track, the pony flicked the tape recorder back on “So you had just began to tell Chrysalis the invasion plan, what was the plan?”
Trimmel gave a snort, amused by the pony’s slick manoeuvring of the convoy back on topic. He leant back and crossed his forelegs “Well its easier to explain how I told the generals under my command. We were in a bunker…”
2 months after meeting with Chrysalis, 3 days before the second invasion
Trimmel stood over a large map of the frontline with Equestria, generals and officers surrounded him as he laid out the second invasion plan to them. The army heads listened intently, each waiting to hear what role they would play in the initial battles.
The room they stood in was slightly cramped and wasn’t the most comfortable. But it was secure, this particular room was a cleared-out storage room in one of their border forts, fort EB-211, and shielded by meters of solid concrete.
A cloud of smoke had pooled near the ceiling and circled the single lamp which illuminated the room. The 25 or so assembled lings and few Olenians from the three main branches of the military were almost all smoking, be it pipes, cigarettes or cigars, they were almost all adding to the cloud in the ceiling. Trimmel was among the few without, his own discarded in an ash tray just a moment ago.
“It starts in three days.” Trimmel began loudly to the room “the attack will begin with wing week, our friends in the airforce will fly a week of sorties against the pony forces and target their logistical infrastructure. At the same time, General Lunason will begin a bombardment of Equestrian positions on the border. Some 20 thousand guns in all will keep up a continuous rolling bombardment for 5 full days, it will be the single largest artillery barrage in recorded history.”
General Lunason was probably the youngest Changeling or Olenian in the room. At just 25 years old, the artillery commander was a somewhat unpopular choice of leader. But he’d proved in the ongoing war that no one could match his understanding of artillery. As head of the Royal Vestiopolis artillery corps, he was the head of all divisional artillery corps, and it would fall to him to coordinate strikes between the regiments.
“On the 5th day of this attack, General Larynx and the 5th army will begin their diversionary offensive out of Vanhoover.” Trimmel pointed towards the extreme right of the changeling lines.
The 5th army had encountered some trouble withdrawing a few months ago, and had ended up digging into positions around Vanhoover. The troops had held their ground and found the area to be well suited for a prolonged defensive battle. They were the only salient still across the old border with Equestria and in the perfect position to launch an attack. Larynx himself was also a good choice, the general was the poster boy of the Heer, loved by his men and well-liked by the media. He had a personal charisma that Trimmel and Synoval just lacked.
His 5th army also had a very high number of Olenian soldiers in its ranks. During the invasion of Olenia, the general was known by the Olenians as being very fair on prisoners of war. Later when he’d served as an advisor to the protectorates crown, he’d helped modernise their army and become quite well liked by the Olenian soldiers and generals. Olenian soldiers worked better under his command than any other Changeling in the Heer.
Larynx was also a component and reliable leader, easy to work with and capable of an extended independent command. While slightly unremarkable in his career compared to the other generals, his steely disposition and reliability made him an indispensable general.
“General Larynx and the 5th army have been reinforced with 4 divisions of Panzers and 6 light panzer divisions from the Olenian protectorate, they will be tasked with drawing as many Equestrian forces onto their offensive as possible to make way for the main thrust. General Haakon Lurswig from Olenia will command the panzer forces in this sector.” Trimmel gestured to Larynx and the Olenian next to him.
“To go along with this, we’ve started a buildup of: inflatable tanks, aircraft mock ups, and in this area several fake bases. Our airforce friends will let equestrian recon aircraft through the defensive screen to see the supposed buildup, and agents in equestria will push their high command towards the buildup. This should hopefully culminate in the Equestrian army diverting many of its reserve troops and response armour to stem this attack. 5th army and its attached armour should be heavily engaged with the Equestria army by the time of the main offensive 2 days later.” Trimmel explained in depth as his aids pushed around models on the map for effect.
General Fultoni raised a hoof into the air and drew Trimmels attention. Trimmel swivelled his eyes and locked them onto the other General who now began to speak allowing Trimmel to read his lips. “What sort of casualties can 5th army expect?”
Trimmel cast his eyes over to General Larynx who sighed “Depends on how many of their reserves we absorb. I expect around 5% KIA with a total of 15% casualties. But if we absorb the full weight of their counterattack…” Larynx paused and silently winced at the mental numbers “KIA could be up to 15% with some 35% casualties.”
A wave of unease passed over the room. Those were easily the highest casualty figures anyone had heard on the entire southern front, and that was just for a single regional offensive. The northern frontline against the communist griffons did regularly see upwards of 30% casualties, but they were close range battles in extreme conditions. Given that Northern force was also made up of Brigade sized formations and not Division sized, it meant that less lings actually died.
Scanning his eyes around the room as his wings fluttered, Trimmel noted the cool understanding in the room. They all understood the stakes of this attack, even if they didn’t like it.
The first invasion, while initially successful, was a rush job. Units weren’t at their rally points when the invasion began, areas of command were poorly defined or overlapped, logistics weren’t set up properly. Every Changeling and Olenian here knew that this time it had to be perfect, otherwise they were first on the chopping block, be it from Chrysalis or the vengeful equestrians.
With no more questions forthcoming, Trimmel continued. “The main thrust will come here and here. Straight through the Frozen Butterfly Forrest’s. Generals Pharynx and Roland will lead the 12 panzer divisions in 2 columns through crystal lines. Kampfgruppe Pharynx will proceed east to Quebuck before splitting into two groups, group 1 will establish a new line while group 2 under lieutenant general Peiper will proceed south and cut the railways out of the crystal empire at Hedgewarts and Chicoltgo. Kampfgruppe Roland will cut west after their initial drive and aim to cut off and encircle elements of the Crystal fire army and whatever units of Stalliongrads revolutionary guard are in the area.” Trimmel continued, when no objections or questions were raised, he continued again.
“General Lore will take the 1st Jaeger army through the breach created by the Kampfgruppe and set up a perimeter behind the frontline to secure their flanks while the 4th engineer corps under General Erebidae will begin construction of a road across the area. The 1st deep penetration and infiltration regiment will accompany them and begin to cut all equestrian supply lines available. Meanwhile the 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 6th armies will begin a general assault on the frontline. While initial resistance can be expected, the pony forces will easily break under the pressure and begin a managed retreat.” Trimmel continued.
As he was about to keep going, one of his aids tapped him twice and gestured off to his left. It was the signal for the deaf Changeling that someone out of his line of sight was trying to talk to him. Craning his neck left, he saw the ever-cautious general Araxis begin speaking to him.
“How can you be sure the Equestrians will break so easily; they’ve had months to prepare and entrench their position. They won’t just leave after we fire a few shells at them.” Araxis argued.
The Changeling was known for his caution in battle, having received an injury long ago, he’d stopped leading from the front and prefered his meticulously planned set piece battles which he deemed as far safer. However, Araxis was still a good leader and level headed under pressure.
Trimmel actually made sure to place Araxis next to his more hotheaded and reckless generals. The cautious Araxis often managed to balance out his wildcard generals and smooth over ruffled feathers. But he wasn’t well suited to high command, he just lacked the initiative to be a truly great general.
“Our informants in the Equestrian military have revealed that the units manning their frontline are already suffering from supply problems. When the supply lines to the crystal empire are cut and the railways to Canterlot bombed, the Equestrians will have to give ground or suffer the greatest military catastrophe in history; either way, we win.” Trimmel huffed.
Satisfied with the answer, Araxis nodded and seemed to shift back into the crowd and out of sight. Seeing that Trimmel was scanning for anymore questions, General Uptrich raised a hoof for Trimmels attention. Flicking his eyes over to the other ling, Uptrich started to speak as well.
“How will we be reducing any pockets we create, is it up to the frontline troops or do we have an active reserve for it?” The inflexible general asked.
Uptrich was a fine leader, good for leading infantry and arguably the Heer’s best logistician. But he was inflexible and lacked creativity, totally unsuited to independent command. He’d never deviate from a plan, even if it was a matter of life or death. However he did bring up a good point, almost every single unit seemed to be somewhere on the frontline.
“Marshal Synoval, who isn’t joining us today, is currently overseeing the final formation of the army of the interior. This group will be acting as our active reserve for the foreseeable future. The attached PanzerGrenadiers will oversee the reduction of any created pockets under General Bit.” Trimmel nodded and pointed towards the centre of the map.
“Wouldn’t General Vect be a better choice?” Uptrich asked, confused at the absence of the Panzer leader. Although the comment did cause General Bit to turn his head and glare at Uptrich.
Trimmel bit his lip, fangs digging into the flesh there and nearly drawing blood. General Vect was dead as of yesterday. The generals communist leanings were tolerated by Chrysalis and Trimmel, but his recently uncovered connections to the Thoraxian resistance had sealed his fate. With Trimmels approval, Vaspier had Vect commit suicide by being raked with machine gun fire in a bathroom.
“General Vect won’t be joining us, he was assassinated yesterday by the Thoraxian resistance.” Trimmel lied through his teeth, it wasn’t even very convincing. The generals around him all knew about their comrades opinions on communism, it wasn’t exactly difficult to piece together what happened.
As the uneasy silence permeated the room, Trimmel decided to break it by coughing before continuing on “our objective with this offensive is to advance onto a new defensive line stretching from Quebuck in the north to Prancisco in the south. We’ll hold there and build up our logistical infrastructure, give the men a chance to rest, then make another drive east towards the crystal city itself.”
“What sort of timeframe are we working with?” General Cardon inquired.
“5 weeks.” It was general Qwiksis who replied for Trimmel.
General Qwiksis was a strange one among Chnageling high command. He was promoted under Trimmels insistence and made a general just before the war broke out. Qwiksis had been a brigade commander see before, aggressive on the field, but unremarkable in his career. The ling was however a very talented coordinator and had a knack for organisation. The other ling also had a good memory and sharp mind.
Although officially a general, Qwiksis acted more as a glorified secretary for Trimmel at this point. He translated the Marshals sometimes vague commands into written orders and made sure arrived to their intended recipients. Qwiksis was crucial for coordinating between the various generals and Chrysalis herself. Occasionally he was called Trimmels shadow, but the Hivesmarshal knew the value of a good Chief-of-staff and was always quick to defend him.
“We’ve built up enough resources for a 5 week push. The main issue is fuel, our domestic production is up and those new Synthetic refineries keep on pumping, but it’s not enough to sustain a continuous push.” Trimmel explained.
It was general Uptrich who threw the next question at Trimmel. Unsurprising given his affinity for logistical matters. Whatever could be said about the ling, his troops never went hungry, and his guns never went silent for lack of ammunition. It was almost a shame that Trimmel couldn’t assign him to manage all of the Heer’s logistics.
“Why only 5 weeks? At our predicted levels of consumption, we can maintain combat for 3 full months.” He asked. The General did bring up a good point.
General Qwiksis was fast to shoot down the infantry leader. Sometimes there was something of the rivalry between the two, the Chief-of-staff perhaps seeing it as encroaching on his turf. “You haven’t factored the airforce into that, add them and you lose a month. We need to maintain a reserve for obvious reasons, defence, manoeuvring and the like. But half of the available fuel is reserved for the navy, Admiral Mimic is going to undertake raiding operations again, and Admiral Lysander is anticipating an Equestrian sortie at some point during the offensive.”
A series of groans sounded throughout the room. Admiral Lysander wasn’t particularly loved by the Heer, a relationship which went both ways. His fleet had a debatable impact on the war so far, and the absurd amount of fuel he’d requisitioned time and time again had caused some issues for the vehicles of the Heer.
Another point of contention between Admiral Lysander and the army came with his naval infantry. Initially, Lysander had been loaned infantry from the Heer for amphibious operations, it was an arrangement which everyone was fine with.
But Synoval, on his own initiative, had withdrawn all infantry from Lysanders command for operations elsewhere. As the navy was just days away from undertaking a major amphibious landing at Las Pegasus, the decision understandably outraged him. In a rare moment of unity between the surface and submarine fleet, Admiral Mimic joined his protests.
The naval branch had then established its own naval infantry branch independent of the Heer. They were solely under navy jurisdiction and couldn’t be moved without the admirals approval. The Heer had obviously launched their own bout of protests, but they fell on deaf ears. Chrysalis stepped in a ruled that the Kriegsmarine could fields its naval troops, dubbed the Seebataillon’s.
Relations between the Kriegsmarine and Heer had remained frosty ever since then. There was almost no trust between the two of them, the navy and army simply refused to cooperate after the incident. Squabbles over resources were an unfortunate norm.
Trimmel personally had no problem with funding the navy. Having never actually met Lysander or Mimic, he also had nothing against either of them. Privately he’d scolded Synoval after he withdrew the infantry, and publicly remained silent on the issue. In the eyes of the Hivesmarshal, every ship the equestrians commissioned meant 100 tanks weren’t shooting at the Heer.
Trimmel shook his head and cast the thoughts away. The Hivesmarshal used his magic to draw a pipe out of his top pocket. The pipe was one already stuffed with tobacco and lit, as the various personalities and officers in effect watched, Trimmel put it back in his mouth and started to tamp down on it with a tamper he also heard in his magic. After a few moments, he dropped the tamper and leaned towards the nearest person in the room.
General Pagala, the pink changeling with a love addiction, picked up the closest box of matches and lit Trimmels pipe. The Marshal nodded in thanks and started to puff on it. The smoke rising to join the haze created in the room. “Is everyone clear on the wider plan?.” He asked, briefly taking the pipe out with hoof.
“Good, now then, let’s get onto the finer details…” Trimmel announced
General Pharynx sat in the commander seat of his command tank, the Panther was his vehicle of choice, and what a fine tank it was. The General scanned the horizon ahead of him, a horizon he’d learned ever minute detail of over the past few weeks. The white, snow-covered hills and planes of the Crystal empire lay before them.
Having had a role in planning the panzer assault, Pharynx had chosen this area as the location for the breakthrough. Tactically there was nothing nearby, but the area was perfect tank country and thinly held by a few Equestrian and New Mareland brigades. Strategically, it was perfect for a breakthrough, and they would be able to easily develop a breakthrough and advance towards the nearby roads and railways supplying the frontline troops.
The crystal ponies were good soldiers, determined and suited to the arctic environment they were fighting at. Despite being few in number, the Crystal ponies were very well equipped and provisioned, arguably the best equipped troops on the pony side. They were also led by Flash sentry and Shining Armour, two very good generals who were willing and able to carry out total defence.
Pharynx and Trimmel had recognised that Crystal Empire troops had been the largest threat faced in the war till this point, resisting doggedly and launching determined counterattacks which often drove the Changeling back. The two had agreed that the Crystal empire would be their main focus in this campaign, reducing their combat potential and knocking out the Crystal empire was of the upmost importance for this campaign to succeed.
Pharynx glanced down at his pocket watch, held in his magic, waiting for the last few seconds to tick over before they began their attack. Behind him, 6 full veteran panzer divisions waited, they would be the first over the border. A few miles to his right, General Roland waited with an equally sized Panzer force, ready to drive for his objectives as well.
As much as Pharynx wanted to launch the attack now, they’d be torn to shredded by their own artillery. Despite 5th army having already begun their attack, the artillery barrage continued elsewhere along the line. Even now, shells and rockets continued to fire for effect on the hill Pharynx intended to smash 6 Panzer Divisions through.
The dull thrum of artillery, ever present this last week, suddenly stopped. Still airborne shells continued to crash into the hillside ahead of them. Pharynx continued to stare at his pocket watch, at exactly 11:00 am, the explosions stopped and all was silent. Silence wasn’t good in war; silence meant a storm was coming. Luckily, Pharynx was that storm.
The Changeling general let out a solitary sniff, he looked down at the engraving on the back of the watch. He hated himself for this killing every day, but he had to do it, he couldn’t bear the sight of the starving nymphs in Vestiopolis anymore; the rationing on love which left families alive on the bare minimum. Thorax’s own methods just weren’t working, he’d stood by him, he’d supported and helped him; but it just wasn’t producing results. He’d finally said goodbye to his brother when his harmonic movement turned violent.
Dressed in a leather jacket and grey officers hat was the stock image of a Changeling general, role he embodied. The general slipped a pair of headphones and microphone under hat and adjusted it briefly. Then he said words he’d been waiting months to say “Kampfgruppe, Advance!”
The driver of his own tank pressed his hoof down and the tank rumbled forwards. Behind them, the column also made to advance and followed their iconic commander leading the charge. The rumble of tank engines and the churning of mud filled the air as the vaunted tank force advanced along the disused track.
Pharynx in the lead tank led it over a line of snow covered rusty barbed wire as they officially crossed onto the Equestrian side of the border. The column continued for a few more minutes, the gun crews and commanders keeping their heads on the swivel as they scanned for any pony activity. The formation crested the hill and looked into the valley beneath them.
With the amount of craters from the artillery barrage, the terrain in front of them appeared more like the moon than the field it once was; the icy and snow certainly didn’t help the appearance either. The land ahead had visible Equestrian activity on it, a camp seemed to be set up some 5 miles away. Trucks and cars, concrete pillboxes and foxholes were immediately visible.
Taking his binoculars and scanning the camp, it was exactly as expected, an infantry brigade. What was surprising however were the campfires, ponies were just milling around and chatting, had they not noticed the thousands of tanks bearing down on their position?
“4th brigade 9th division form up on me. Unexpected thrust formation.” Pharynx told the company over the radio “load HE rounds. 2nd brigade, form on my left and swing behind them; 3rd, form on the right and hit them in the right.”
As Pharynx led his tank forwards as the brigade formed up around him. Changeling panzer Brigades were half the size of their griffon counterparts, only having 60-70 armoured vehicles making up its main body. But they fielded them in larger numbers than their griffon counterparts.
The brigade reforms were one of those Pharynx had made during the war. When he led the Panzers in the rearguard action, the general had cut every brigade in half so he could cast a larger defensive net. Their divisions still had the same number of armoured vehicles as before, but they were more dispersed now. It also reduced pressure on roads and railways for travel and supply. Overall, it was a vast improvement over their previous organisation system.
The brigades formed up as they rolled towards the Pony camp. The formation was loose to avoid enemy gunners being able to exploit their close formation, but its tactics were drilled to perfection. The past few years of combat had made sure that everyling knew their place in the battle. They all knew exactly what they needed to do and where they needed to be for this to work.
Trucks towing howitzers made up the first group to stop, they’d devised a system to have the gun off the truck and firing at close range in just 1 minute. Then the Panzers would stop and shell the enemy while the IFV’s, halftracks and Assault guns raced forward. The assault guns would stop at close range and takeover shelling duties from the tanks who would advance past the assault guns. The PanzerGrenadiers would dismount and create breaches in the enemy line which the panzers could then exploit. It’s a tactic which had worked on the Equestrians many times and hopefully would again.
The Equestrians finally seemed to take notice of the advancing Changeling tanks as they were just 1 mile out. Through his binoculars, Pharynx could see the ponies start to scramble to defensive positions and clear the immediate line of fire. Water and snow was thrown on fires as the Equestrians started to dive into cover and arm themselves.
The Panzer brigade’s own artillery had detached a half mile back and now opened fire. The crash of Howitzers unleashing their steel rain was one which never got old, the shells screamed overhead and reached their targets in moments, detonating among the equestrian camp. Snow and dirt was throw into the sky, sometimes bodies well.
The Equestrians however were unusually fast in returning fire with their own guns. Muzzle flashes briefly made the day brighter before shells crashed inside his formation of armoured vehicles. Then the AT made itself known. Moving like tracers, antitank rounds whizzed through his formation, punching holes in the air. But the AT was poorly sighted and already being single out by his own artillery.
Pharynx’s own command tank had its own unique radio system. His own radio was automatically tuned to several different frequencies used by his formation, all he had to do was turn a dial (one he’d covered with bits of paper with formation names written on) and he could communicate to most formations under his command. The Changeling flicked the dial to 4th brigade and addressed his troops.
“Panzers halt, fire for effect, aim for the AT!” He shouted.
The tank and others around him stopped as the rest of the assault guns and PanzerGrenadiers raced by them. Pharynx switched the radio back to his own tank intercom. “Gunner, traverse 15 left! AT 400m.” He ordered.
The turret rotated towards the target before the gunner’s voice came over the intercom “target on, AT 400!”
“Fire!” Pharynx yelled.
“Firing” the gunner replied.
The 45-tonne war machine shook violently as a shell was forced out of its rifled turret. The High Explosive shell travelled at breakneck speed across the chaos of the battlefield, travelling over the assault guns and PanzerGrenadiers until it reached its target. The shell landed ever so slightly short of its target and struck the ground before it detonated in the ground and sent dirt and chunks of grass flying.
“Shot action HE, no traverse, elevate 3 degrees!” pharynx shouted over the intercom as an Equestrian artillery shell landed on the front of the tank next to him.
Its treads were blown off as the vehicle was rendered immobile, but the crew would be fine, especially with the commander’s hatch being closed as it was. As if to prove him right, the turret rotated and fired a shell at its own target. After a moment, the hatch popped open and the tank commander appeared, radio held to her mouth as she barked orders to her crew.
“Target on, AT 400.” Came the reply from Pharynx’s gunner.
“Fire!” The general yelled
“Firing” the gunner replied.
The shell arced over the Assault gun which had now joined the shelling. It crossed the Halftracks, now empty of PanzerGrenadiers, it crossed the Equestrian line being stormed by the changeling troops. And finally, it arrived at the AT gun. This time their aim was true. The HE shell detonated right on the AT platform. The Equestrian guns own shells cooked off as it was engulfed in flames. The AT piece went up in a fireball as it was destroyed.
Quickly scanning the Equestrian formation, Pharynx spotted Changeling tanks inside the camp. They were the tanks of 3rd brigade. As he was about to order his own panzers to advance, his radio crackled. His lieutenants knew not to call him if it wasn’t important, so he always paid attention whenever they did
“1 I.C 3rd brigade to command, come in.” a voice asked.
Pharynx clicked on his mic as he replied “go ahead.”
“The Equestrians have thrown in the towel, they had literally nothing on the right. They’re encircled and surrendering.” The officer on the other end reported.
Without replying, Pharynx switched his radio to transmit to all the commanding officers in his unit and addressed the officers “all elements hold fire, enemy neutralised. 3rd brigade 9th division, secure the prisoners and rejoin the vanguard. General Peiper, have your division process them.”
“Aye sir.” Replied two voices one after the other.
“9th division, move out in 5 to bypass the enemy camp.” Pharynx ordered “we’ll move east towards the airfield.”
Switching his radio to internal, the general addressed his crew “take 5.”
The hatches on the front opened as two changeling heads appeared out of the top. The driver and foregunner getting a breath of fresh air. The tank started to role forwards around the outside of the Equestrian camp, the various vehicles of his brigade made to follow him.
As if in sync, Pharynx and his fore-gunner pulled out a pack of cigarettes and began to light them. The fore-gunner lit an another and handed it across to the driver with his magic. Leaning back, Pharynx glanced at the gunner and loader who sat back and started to drink from their canteens.
“Good shooting.” He complimented.
“Thanks.” The gunner replied taking a swig of water “you don’t need to shout fire by the way, I’m right here.”
Choosing to ignore the comment, Pharynx gave the camp a sideways glance as they passed by it. He could see Ponies rising out of foxholes and crawling from tents, meanwhile his PanzerGrenadiers organised them into groups and bound them with wire. A few stayed on the ground, unmoving, red stained snow being a grim indication of their fate.
Some officer stood atop a light tank shouting through a speaker “Do not resist, do not move. You will be processed shortly; all prisoners will be treated in accordance with international law! Medics will arrive shortly to treat your wounded; any Pony medics make yourself known and you will be allowed to tend to your wounded.”
The officer looked a bit like Peiper, it definitely wasn’t, but the resemblance was there. He was worried about Peiper, the Changeling had a few loose screws which stopped from getting to high command. The tanker had committed a few atrocities during the war, but nothing which Chrysalis wasn’t willing to overlook. The real trouble was when Peiper would be detached and without Pharynx always looking over his shoulder, then things could get bad.
His tank came to a stop besides the camp, glancing back, the brigade was reorganising into its regular formation behind him. The loader, who was relaxing by the shells, looked up at Pharynx and asked “so what’s the damage?”
“Tank next to us lost its treads but is otherwise ok.” Pharynx gestured behind them “The Grenadiers will obviously have taken a few casualties, other than that we seem ok.”
Glancing back, Pharynx could see most of the formation was ready to move on. However one could never be sure, the artillery trucks in particular could take a while to get ready to off. Leaning down and switching his radio to the brigade, he decided to just ask. “Are we ready to move off?”
After a few moments, a voice came through. It was impossible to tell who it was, but only officers of a certain rank were on the channel, so it had to be one of them. “We’re all good back here.”
Taking his cigarette out of his mouth, Pharynx threw it over the side of the tank into the mud. “Alright,” he started over the Kampfgrupper wide channel “continue advance towards the airfield, Lehr devision, swing north and take the hills overlooking it.”
A round an officers replying copy returned, but the general paid it little attention. The equestrian camp wasn’t expected, but it barely even classified as a speed-bump with the resistance they’d put up. The airfield would be the first of their objectives on this armoured thrust, they could get supply’s flown in, wounded flown out, and have their fighter and bomber cover continue to support them.
The Airforce’s primary fighter didn’t have the best range, it wasn’t bad, but also not great, so airports would need to be secured to maintain air cover. What long range fighters they did have were all tied up escorting the bomber offensive deeper inland. Taking these strategic points intact was vital to the operations success. They’d outrun their air cover in the first invasion, something Trimmel was determined not to do again.
The armoured column advanced past the Equestrian camp and headed straight for the enemy airfield, it was a good half-hours drive away, so they might as well get comfortable for the trip, especially as no major resistance was expected. The tank crew started to chat amongst themselves as their general took out a pair of binoculars and scanned the western horizon.
He could see the distant specks of General Roland’s armoured column. The unmistakable flash of tracers and shells indicated they were also meeting some initial resistance. But it was nothing the vast armoured column couldn’t handle, Roland was also a veteran tanker, it would take more than a few ponies with guns to stop him.
Beyond that, the horizon was filled with nothing but smoke and dirt, the result of the largest artillery bombardment in world history being unleashed. He remembered the shelling well, many artillery crews had actually taken casualties from the sound of their own guns. Pharynx had once even visited an artillery corps involved, he had to keep his mouth permanently open to try and keep an equal pressure and stop his ears bleeding.
In all fairness to the Ponies, and the communists in particular, they’d offered a spirited resistance in well placed counter battery fire. But the sheer volume of Changeling guns and their bombers picking off unconcealed guns decided the victor after just 2 days of the artillery duel. Nothing could stand against 20 000 guns, General Lunason worked magic that way.
Pharynx let his crew chat as he himself let his guard down. Recon flights and intel indicated that the Equestrians didn’t have much behind the actual frontline, and reports from the south showed that 5th army was absorbing a good chunk of the communist reserve. The only thing they were nearly clueless about were the Crystal Empires forces.
The Crystal empire wasn’t in the Equestrian command, they also stayed almost totally infiltrator free. So the Heer was largely in the dark over the location and plans of the Crystal empire. They had to use a lot of guesswork with their opponent. A thin line of pickets manned the frontline in places and they regularly patrolled forward, but the main bulk hadn’t been seen since the retreat. Trimmel believed they were holding further inland on better ground, anticipating the collapse of the existing frontline. Pharynx was inclined to believe his assessment.
Although their location was unknown, the possibility of suddenly running into a massive enemy force was always in the back of his mind. But if they were going to make an appearance, it wouldn’t be so soon, perhaps in a day or so. When they did encounter them, it would be a horrific grind. An unstoppable force meeting an unmoveable object, casualties would be high.
Pharynx knew full well that the battles wouldn’t be decided by tactics, hell their offensive plan boiled down to hit them really hard and brute force your way through any resistance. This war would be decided by logistics and transport infrastructure. If the fleet of trucks supplying either side failed to get the shells, bullets, rations or fuel needed to the frontline troops, they’d loose regardless of whatever miracles were pulled on the battlefield.
As they drove on towards their objective, Pharynx cast his mind towards the war in general. The industrial side of the conflict was stacked in the Equestrian side on paper. Holding far more factories capable of military production which were dispersed across several nations, they could far outproduce the Changelings in theory.
But the war economy was highly standardised by Trimmel before the war, every Changeling, Olenian and bear unit used the same equipment. Everything used the same components and was interchangeable. The Equestrian production army meanwhile was equipped with weapons and tools from 14 countries on 3 continents, each one using different components and requiring different ammunition. Not all Equestrian units were equipped in the same fashion, standardised units only made up some 50% of their armed forces.
With the Equestrian economy tied down in producing replacement parts for 1000 different pieces of equipment, the Equestrian production capabilities were only slightly larger than Changeling’s and far more manageable. With the vast tech advantage that the Hegemony had managed to maintain, it kept the playing field close enough to even.
“How are we looking on fuel?” Pharynx asked the driver.
Briefly pausing his quiet conversation, the driver checked the gauge “We’re at 3 quarters.”
Pharynx nodded in understanding and let his crew go back to talking. One problem the hegemony had battled with was fuel inefficiency. Their Panzer IV and Panther tanks were incredibly fuel inefficient, partly the reason for their dire fuel situation a few months back. Thank the stars they’d never put the King Tiger into mass production, the design faults and fuel huger of that steel behemoth made him shudder in horror.
The tank had caused quite a stir, Chrysalis demanded it be produced, Trimmel demanded they never enter production. One of the far too frequent arguments between the two which nearly caused a schism took place as the two larger than life personalities clashed. Eventually they’d compromised, a single brigades worth of King Tigers would be produced for the Queens guard, and were under Chrysalis command. Last he’d heard, they’d been assigned to the army of the interior.
Just ahead of them, shielded by a few rises in the terrain and clumps of trees, was the unmistakable shape of an airfield. Pharynx pulled out and checked his pocket watch. Just 10 minutes out from the airbase. The taker closed the pocket watch and briefly stared at the engraving on the back ‘to the best big brother’. Pharynx gently placed it back in his pocket and lifted the radio, fiddling with the frequency until he found the right one. Lifting the receiver up to his mouth, he spoke into it “General Pharynx requesting fighter sweep of Dodger airfield.”
Some 2 squadrons of fighter aircraft had been in a holding pattern on the Changeling side of the border, massing just outside Equestrian radar range. Their time to target was 5 minutes and they’d have just 5 minutes for a fighter sweep of the defences. They’d then hold position over the airfield and clear out any air cover the Equestrians had. The idea was that the end of their strafing attack would be perfectly timed with Pharynx arrival, for maximum shock value.
Fiddling with his radio again, Pharynx addressed his leading Kampfgruppe “4th Brigade, breeching positions. Lehr division, continue bypassing north and cut them off. Restrict shellfire to AA and Flak emplacements, we need to take the airfield intact.” Dropping his radio, he looked at the driver whose head was still poking out of the front. “Stop us here”
The tank rolled to a bald as a wave of confirmation passed over the radio, but the general ignored it. The general would try to fight as many battles as possible with just his lead division, conserving the strength of his reserves and Peipers forces until they were truly needed. Hopefully he’d be able to prolong the offensive potential of his force this way.
The breaching formation was one developed on the fly during the first invasion, now standardised. Two tanks would lead columns of mounted PanzerGrenadiers towards the perimeter fence or barbed wire of the airstrip, engineers would dismount and cut a way through so the tanks could pass through. Once through, the tanks would let the IFV’s pass them by and provide cover fire as they dashed to the objective.
The armoured brigade formed up behind him, assault guns and vehicles not needed in the attack talking the opportunity to refuel. A company of PanzerGrenadiers in their armoured vehicles meanwhile lined up behind Pharynx’s panther and the other vehicle behind them. Similar groups appeared on their left and right. A few engineers, recognisable by the shovel patched on their uniform, climbed onto Pharynx’s tank and the one behind.
At that moment, as the group formed up to attack, a wave of fighters passed over them travelling nearly at a dive. Tracers arced up from the ground ahead of the tanks and up towards the attacking aircraft, some flak cannons even started popping off fire at the fighters. Those pilots had guts that’s for sure, nothing on this planet could get Pharynx to go into battle in a flying aluminium death trap.
As the fighter sweep began, Pharynx glanced back at the forming up vehicles. He judged it to be good enough and that the rest would be able to catch up as they went. “Brigade advance!” He ordered into the microphone.
The breeching columns began to role forwards towards the Equestria airfield. Tanks leading 4 groups of PanzerGrenadiers in the attack, a number which would almost certainly be overkill. Equestrians rarely garrisoned their airfields with anything other than AA units.
Unholstering his officers pistol, Pharynx placed it down on the turret hatch, within easy reach if he needed it. He then gripped his hooves onto his officers machine gun and readied himself. Heading straight into a clump of trees, Pharynx could see the flashes of gunfire and hear the shouts of ponies drowned out by piston engines. A few shadows passed over them as something exploded.
Then his tank broke through the trees and onto the flat ground in front of the airfield. The airfield was a mess, the unfolding anarchy of an air attack was something one never got used to. Bofors, flak guns and a few Pom Pom guns were spraying at the fighters which were pulling out of a drive at the far end of the airstrip. Equestrians were running between buildings and shouting as aircraft of various types burned on the ground. Despite the attack, most aircraft seemed to be unscathed and a few were even taxing to take off. Above the airstrip, a couple of apparently already airborne Equestrian aircraft were starting a dogfight.
Quickly glancing left and right, Pharynx noticed the other tanks of the breaching party had also gotten through the tree line. The general lifted up his radio and clicked it on “start spraying the airstrip, take out those AA guns.”
Almost immediately, the machine guns on the leading vehicles started to spray lead across the concrete strip towards anything what moved. Pharynx clicked the intercom on and addressed the gunner “hold main, load HE, go coaxial.”
without replying, the coaxial machine gun attached to the turret started to spray bullets into the area ahead of them. A few Equestrians were riddled with bullets and died where they fell, their guns briefly fell silent as they were caught between the land and air. Then they reorganised and returned fire.
Machine-guns were the first to respond, tracers arcing towards the vehicles and bouncing off the armour of the vehicles. Pharynx ducked his head down as bullets whizzed past. Then the heavier weapons started to fire, AA guns turned on ground targets were surprisingly deadly. The heavy flak guns in particular could pose a serious threat if the Equestrians managed to turn them around.
“Gunner, traverse 20 left, flak gun 200m!” He shouted into the intercom.
The turret turned towards the target as Pharynx grabbed his 50 cal in his hooves and started to fire back at the Equestrian machine gun positions. The turret halted as the gunner reported “target on, flak 200”
“Fire!” He shouted.
“Firing.”
The whole tank shook as the high explosive shell left the rifled barrel of the tank at breakneck speed. The glowing shell passed across the battlefield and towards the flak turret, surrounded by sandbags and foxholes. It landed at the base of the gun and detonated, sending the battery up in a blaze.
“Nice shot! Driver halt” he ordered through the intercom.
The tanks had reached the outer layer of wire which surrounded the airfield. The general looked back to the engineers taking cover in the tank behind him, shielding themselves from the fire. Although one of them had been nicked by shrapnel and was bleeding from his cheek, they were all in good condition.
“All tanks, pop smoke 100 up.” Pharynx ordered the breaching vehicles over the radio.
Acting automatically, the gunner and loader of his own vehicle loaded and fired smoke up the airfield. The other leading tanks also fired smoke, creating a brief and thin smoke screen between them and some of the Equestrian defences. Fire continued to be sprayed thrown the smoke by both sides, and the foxholes, pillboxes and guns still on this side continued to put out fire.
“Get us a path!” He shouted at the engineers.
The changeling engineers picked up smoke grenades in their magic and tossed them as far as they could forwards. The metal cylinders hit the mud and started to spew out the white gas. Now confident in their adequate screen, the engineers jumped off his vehicle and sprinted forwards to the barbed wire some 15 meters ahead of them. Although it theoretically put the engineers in more danger, the distance allowed the tanks main guns to safely be used, providing more cover fire for the lings with the most dangerous job in the battle.
From his heightened position on the turret, Pharynx could still somewhat see over the smoke screen and continued to call out targets and orders to his crew. “Nose hold, you’ll hit our own boys. Loader, AP shell. Gunner traverse 5 left, pillbox 60m.”
A minor adjustment was made by the turret before the gunner replied “target on, no sight, pillbox 60.”
“Fire!” He shouted.
“Firing.”
Pharynx barely noticed the tank shaking as the shell left the barrel and headed towards the pillbox. The glowing shell hit the ground just ahead of the pillbox and sent a wave of dirt up into the air. The general scowled and sprayed the pillbox with his 50 cal as he barked more orders at the gunner. “Action shot, no traverse, increase range 10m.”
“Target on, no sight, pillbox 70.” Came the reply.
A tracer flew within an inch of the generals head and nearly took off his hat. Forgetting he was leaning out of the turret, Pharynx slipped slightly further down into the turret hatch. Any one of these bullets could have made his end sudden unceremonious. “Fire!” He shouted.
“Firing.”
The shell tore a hole through the air and reached its target. The armour piercing shell put a hole straight in the top of the concrete pillbox as it travelled inside. The explosive warhead ignited and spelled the immediate end of the occupants. Ammunition cooked off and butchered anypony who was unfortunate enough not to have been instantly killed by the AP shell.
Pharynx watched light flash within the concrete construction before tracers stopped exiting off it. The general let out a breath and silently prayed for their souls. He was about to shout another target out when an IFV crossed his light of sight. Following its path back, he saw that the right team had managed to cut the wire and were streaming onto the airfield.
“Tanks hold, friendlies are on the airstrip.” He ordered through the radio.
A single engineer came running through the thinning smoke and towards his own vehicle. The engineer banged on the side and yelled up at the general who glanced down at him “you’ve got a clear path.”
Nodding in thanks, Pharynx ordered the driver forwards, and the tank rumbled to life. As they passed the breach in the wire, the general saw the engineers lying in the mud, holding rifles in their hooves and pointing them forwards. A couple of them were face down and didn’t appear to be moving, he’d ordered them to die.
Once through the breach, his tank pulled to the left, the one behind him went right. They orientated their turrets across the airstrip, but held their fire for fear of hitting the friendlies now in front of them. The IFV’s and halftracks holding PanzerGrenadiers sped past Pharynx’s own vehicle, banging their 30 cals at the unseen enemy. A few who had already dismounted jogged forwards and spread out across the airstrip.
The changeling general fell back into a sitting position in his turret. Another victory for his decorated Panzer corps, another advance for the Heer, another set of lives sacrificed for mud, another day where he wondered what his brother would think of him now.
Hopefully this war would end soon, one way or the other, he didn’t really care anymore. He’d do his job for the Heer, but nothing more; he was just numb to it all at this point. Great if they won, great if they lost, he just didn’t care.
The Crystal empire was a horribly quiet battlefield, almost silent in fact. The silence was never good in war. Kampfgrupper Pharynx had advanced meeting almost no opposition the entire way, only the occasional: minefield, rearguard special forces teams and armed civilians had greeted them, no grand army had made itself known. The Crystal Imperial Army wasn’t anywhere, not even elsewhere on the growing frontline.
5th army meanwhile had stalled briefly as they were hit by a flood of mainly Communist troops. After absorbing the initial wave, the 5th army had counterattacked and made good progress south. It was the same all along the line, Changeling forces were making slow and steady progress into Equestria against heavy opposition. But the ponies were wearing themselves down, and something in their line would soon buckle.
The Crystal empire was a totally different story however, the largest tank force ever assembled on the continent had advanced over empty ground to their objectives, barely firing a shot. They’d all expected the hell which the Reich had faced at the battle of the Adaclava against a combined Aquelian Republican force. The largest tank battle in the world history which had lasted for day and claimed at least 100 000 lives across its 100 mile battlefield.
Kampfgrupper Peiper advanced towards their final objective of Chicoltgo, still in the hellish silence of the early morning. The 16th Panzer division and the Lehr division also had yet to encounter any actual resistance, only minefields and empty villages. Even the villages and city’s were empty, the civilians apparently having been evacuated months prior beyond a few nuts with shotguns.
The Lehr division was somewhere to their right, travelling parallel to reduce pressure on the roads. The 2nd brigade of his own 16th division meanwhile was several miles ahead of them, bypassing towns and villages on their way to Chicoltgo and acting as the advanced guard. Aerial passes had confirmed that Chicoltgo was still inhabited, even if the population was much smaller than their occupation census indicated.
Generalleutnant Peiper lay back in his tanks turret, relaxing as they passed through a village. Like everyone other village they’d encountered so far, it was totally abandoned. It was the last village they’d have to go through before arriving at their final objective of Chicoltgo, and the perfect place to take a rest to refuel. Panzers consumed vast amounts of petrol, the supply chain keeping his tanks running each day was more than triple the size of his actual fighting force.
Clicking on his radio, Peiper ordered the leading 16th panzer division to stop. Halting in the village square, Peiper glanced around and took in its sights. The village was a brick village, mainly populated with single story buildings. The square however mainly had 2 story buildings, some with boarded windows, all blacked out and abandoned. Peiper stepped out of his tank and landed with a thud on the cobbled road of the village. A light snowfall continued to fall in the frozen north and stain the ground white.
Peiper stretched his legs before trotting around for a moment, the snow crunching under hoof. Trucks started to roll up next to the tanks and Changelings dismounted as they started the process of refuelling the tanks. The tank crews and PanzerGrenadiers also dismounted and started to mill around and stretch their legs, hours at a time in a cramped tank made the crews jittery, it was good to get out every once in a while.
Peipers crew opened their own hatches on the tank and got some air, the gunner even climbing up and sitting in his commanders position on the turret. Raising a hoof, the Generalleutnant made a throwing gesture at the gunner. The changeling lit up his magic and levitated a box of matches and a pack of cigarettes out, before tossing them to him.
Peiper caught the two boxes in his magic and nodded in thanks. Around him, PanzerGrenadiers were jogging around and marching into the square. The Changeling took out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. He stuffed the matches and cigarette inside his inside box scanned around. A pair of officers approached and saluted the Kampfgrupper leader. “Your orders sir?” One of them, a PanzerGrenadier asked.
“Take your men and secure the village, set up a perimeter and patrol towards Chicoltgo. Avoid becoming decisively engaged if enemy forces should be encountered.” Peiper told him. The officer tapped his hoof and marched away. Looking at the other officer, Peiper addressed him “bring up the fuel trucks and top up the tanks. Tell the commissary that dinner can be served to the troops when we enter Chicoltgo.”
The other officer tapped his hoof and marched off in a different direction. Breakfast had been served several hours ago, they’d be arriving in an hour or two at Chicoltgo, perfect time to have tea. The troops would certainly be ready after the days travel and setting up of defences around their objective.
The Generalleutnant scanned the abandoned village centre, trying to spot any sign of life. Sighting an abandoned antique shop, Peiper took off at a trot towards it. He’d always been an antique collector, some bought from less than reputable sources, but all suitable extravagant.
The Generalleutnant was halfway to the shop when all hell broke loose. The fuel truck next to the leading tank, his own tank, detonated. Burning liquid fuel spilled inside the open top hatch of the Tiger IV tank and caused the vehicle to explode as its ammunition cooked off. For just a moment before the ammo detonated, he could hear his crew scream.
The explosive force of the detonation threw Peiper to the ground as chunks of metal from the exploding tank flew out in every direction like that of a frag grenade. All the nearby PanzerGrenadiers and tank crewmen milling around were shredded by the shrapnel, chunks of flesh and blood splashed out and wet the cobbled roads and stone windows.
Peiper himself was wounded as a piece of burning metal fragment passed across his cheek and created a deep cut. The disorientated officer stood up and noticed that everything was blurry, and the only sound was a ringing. He barely even registered the tracers flying through the air and thudding into a building, the crack of rifles and drone of machine guns also eluded him.
It wasn’t until a PanzerGrenadier grabbed him, dragged him and practically threw Peiper against the second tank in the line that he was dragged back into reality. The PanzerGrenadiers charged a building on the far side of the square under the cover of the next panzer in line spraying the upper levels of the red brick building.
A rocket flew out of the top window, whizzing through the air and letting out a screeching sound. The rocket propelled grenade impacted on the second panzer in the line, detonating on the forward hull. The panzer suffered no damage and continued to spray the buildings upper levels once the smoke cleared.
The PanzerGrenadiers meanwhile reached the door, the first ling there sprinted into the door at full speed and blew the door off its hinges with the impact force. The rest poured into the building as internal gunfire, muffled by the walls, started to fill the building. Silhouettes in windows falling and rising as the close quarters battle raged, flashes of gunfire and smoke from grenades pouring out of openings.
Peiper looked up to the turret and shouted at the commander over the gunfire and chaos “hold fire!”
Glancing down at the Generalleutnant, the tank commander must have told his crew to stop shooting over the intercom as the various machine guns on the vehicle stopped spitting bullets into the upper floor. The fighting outside stopped as everyone waited. Silhouettes of figures fighting in the windows could be seen, close range gunfire and melee.
After a few tense seconds, a top window creaked open. Every gun in the square traced itself on that window, but no one fired. Then a changeling appeared through the window and shouted “We got them.”
A collective sigh of relief went out among the troops and support personnel caught outside. Retaking command of the situation, Peiper shouted from his position “this isn’t over, secure the village on the double!”
The professional soldiers of the Heer immediately took off down the various roads and alleys of the village, kicking down doors and smashing windows as they checked every building. The air of calm and relaxation disappeared as the veterans of many battles were kicked back into action when their reflexes took over.
Peiper collapsed against the tank he sheltered behind and raised a hoof to the deep cup on his face. Blood poured out of the cut, but the wound itself didn’t seem too serious. The corpses strewn around the area certainly showed that he’d gotten off light, wasn’t dead at least. Honestly the ambush wasn’t that bad, soldiers could be replaced easily as bullets.
The Generalleutnant stood up and tried to wipe the blood off his cheek, but found the liquid wouldn’t stop flowing. Medics started to appear and tend to the wounded and dying, and Peiper saw the PanzerGrenadiers dragging several ponies out of the building. Both dead and alive, the ponies were being pulled. Those who were still living thrashed and squirmed as they were roughly thrown around by the Heer soldiers.
A medic ran over to Peiper and began to check him over “are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No just the cut on my cheek.” He let out a hard breath.
The medic lifted up a rag in their magic and started to wipe the blood off his face. The female changeling examined the cut before letting out a sigh of relief. “It’s not serious, and it’s not deep enough to warrant stitching. So I’m just going to clean it and put a bandage on.”
“Thanks” the Changeling officer replied “this’ll scar right?”
“Obviously.” Came the short reply.
The medic took out a flask of rubbing alcohol and doused a fresh cloth in it. Then she pressed it against his face and only the wound. Peiper winced in pain and let out a sharp breath from between his teeth. The medic laughed, much to Peipers annoyance. Heer medics were terrifying lings, their motto? ‘You don’t die without our permission’. Generally, you never argued with a Heer medic unless you wanted their permission to die.
Off to his left, three ponies were forced to their knees by a group of PanzerGrenadiers. The three ponies were bloodied and bruised having obviously received some rough treatment from the changelings. Peiper barely even noticed that however, his eyes were laser focused on their identity of crystal ponies and the uniforms they wore.
“So I’ll just bandage this up…” the medic continued, apparently having been talking this whole time.
The Generalleutnant waved a hoof at the medic “excuse me for a moment.”
Getting to his hooves, the Generalleutnant trotted over to the prisoners and readied himself to ask them a few questions. Peiper arrived at the prisoners and felt mild satisfaction when the soldiers stood at attention. The ponies meanwhile looked up at him with pure hate. Peiper had mostly fought on the Crystal front during the war and had gained somewhat of a reputation after ordering the Mt Ellsberg massacre and several smaller mass executions.
“What unit are they with?” Peiper demanded from the closest PanzerGrenadier.
“3rd Crystal Imperial infantry, its a long-rage penetration unit, special forces. They go by the name ‘Chindits’.” The soldier explained.
“Special forces eh.” Peiper looked down at the three crystal ponies. None of them were bound and physically restrained, held down only by the threat of a bullet to the skull. “Unfortunately that means that they probably won’t talk no matter what we do, at least we know there’s a special forces brigade somewhere around here.”
The three surviving ponies scowled up at Peiper, probably wishing their glares would burn hole through his skull. Peiper smirked, deciding on their fate, he switched to Equish to torment the captives “drain them for all they’ve got then shoot them, let’s not waste our time with prisoners.”
Peiper turned and took a few steps away. The mechanised infantry behind him let out an evil chuckle, loading rifles and priming spells on their horns. Readying himself to hear the screaming and pleading of the tortured ponies, draining did hurt a lot after all. He really did love their screams, ponies were never quiet when they died.
Instead of screaming and agony, Peiper heard a single shout in Equish “wait I’ll talk!”
Peiper turned and saw the centre pony looking right at him. A wicked smile appeared on the Changelings face “really! I believe that means you’ll be the first ever pony in the special forces to spill the beans.” He laughed in Equish, allowing the pony to hear him.
The pony turned his head and looked down at the cobble road “spare my men and I’ll tell you where the brigade is.” The pony sounded truly defeated.
Peiper trotted towards the pony. He stood over him and pointed a hoof at the pony. A pair of PanzerGrenadiers strode over and roughly lifted the pony to his hooves. The pony dusted himself off. “I’ll spare them, but the information comes first.”
The pony nodded in defeat and reached a hoof into his coat pocket. Peiper chuckled as he levitated his cigarettes and matches out of his jacket. Taking one out of the box, he balanced it between his lips before and was about the strike a match before looking at the Crystal pony again. Peiper froze, his mouth dropped open and the cigarette fell loosely onto the snow-covered road beneath him. A delicate snow started to fall on the town, making the whole scene seem serene and peaceful, it might have been in any other situation.
The Crystal pony held a grenade in his hoof, its pin falling to the ground. None of the PanzerGrenadiers had reacted either, a couple of them were lifting the other ponies up, and the other two were joking about the weakness of ponies. It was just Peiper and the Crystal pony staring at each other.
The Generalleutnant expression was one of abject horror, he could almost feel the explosion before it happened. He just froze to the ground and found himself unable to move. The Crystal pony meanwhile smiled and muttered “bitch”
Then the grenade detonated. Peiper felt no pain as fragments of metal passed straight through his body, just shock. One metal fragment found his neck and the brain stem. As he collapsed, he recognised the sound of gunfire and the blurry black shapes of other changelings. By the time he hit the ground, Peiper was dead.
2nd Brigade 16th Division 4 miles ahead
Generalleutnant Josef Dietrich lay out of the commander hatch of his tank, an exceedingly rare Maus heavy tank. His Brigade was moving in two columns slowly down the single road towards Chicoltgo, taking their time and in no real hurry. No ponies had made themselves known yet, it was all quiet, unlike the hell 5th and 6th army were grinding through.
Some Changelings were even starting to say that the Crystal ponies may have even withdrawn all the way back to their capital, planning to anchor their line on the city’s bubble shield. Dietrich was inclined to agree with this assessment, where else could they be?
The Changeling Generalleutnant despised his current position in the Heer, it was beneath him. The former Queens Guard was from one of the most noble families in Vestiopolis! How could he be reduced to serving alongside these commoners eluded him. One of his rivals must have sabotaged him, separating him from protecting their ever-glorious queen.
Just about the only thing they understood was fear, he regularly had to draw lots and shoot some random grub just to keep the rest in line. Soon enough he’d be away from here, just as soon as the honourable General Pharynx approved his proposal to execute the entire division. The chief of staff had assured him that Pharynx had seen the proposal after all, surely he would agree with his assessment.
The worst of them was Oberst Joseph Von Radowitz, that commoner scum seemed to take a certain delight in arguing with him. He seemed to think the executing their soldiers was too harsh, going to far as to report the behaviour to the righteous HivesMarshal Trimmels chief of staff. Obviously Dietrich had secretly blocked the report, even if it was totally false, it would still be considered a mark on his record.
He couldn’t just kill that snake Radowitz unfortunately, he’d somehow weaselled his way into the eye of their glorious queen, something about heroism in the line of duty or something. With murder and assassination out of the question, he just decided to continually sent the troublesome Oberst on the most dangerous missions available. The campaign had proved sorely lacking in the particularly deadly kind, so Dietrich contented himself with sending him on advanced scout missions, anything to get his bothersome complaints away.
Oberst Radowitz was currently 2 miles forward, leading a few armoured platoons on some stupid patrol towards Chiocoltgo. He’d even given orders for him to take the city if enemy resistance was lacking, hopefully he’d die in the endeavour. Chances of that were unlikely though, the Ponies were probably never going to show up.
Dietritch’s leading brigade continued forwards, just meandering along in no real hurry to be anywhere. Sure they had been ordered to make the best possible speed, but what was the real hurry anyway? Soon enough, the Equestrians would fold and they’d be in Canterlot, why would their speed even matter.
The day, formerly filled with the sound of chatting changelings and the rumbling of vehicle engines, was broken by the sound of distant gunfire. Instead of subsiding a few seconds later, the distant gunfire was joined a minute later by cannon-fire in increasing volume. That was unusual, cannon-fire was a bit excessive to use against civilians or militia.
Dietrich lit up his magic and switched on his radio to address the leading 2nd brigade “brigade halt, someone find out what’s going on up ahead.”
The tanks rumbled to a halt as the brigade stopped where it was. Changeling PanzerGrenadiers riding on tanks or in halftracks hopped out and started to lazily stretch their legs and spread out. They weren’t in any rush, or had any reason to worry about security. The sounds of the battle ahead of them only got louder, now he thought about it, the sounds were coming from the general direction of Oberst Radowitz recon platoon. Maybe the rat had actually found something?
As if to confirm it, a radio operator ran up besides his Maus tank and saluted “sir, Oberst Radowitz reports major enemy position. He requests reinforcements sir!” The small radioling saluted and shouted stiffly, she was obviously a new recruit, acting with manners right out of training.
At that moment, Dietrich could have kissed her. Radowitz had stumbled across something with a good chance to kill him and needed help. What sort of commanding officer would be if he didn’t aid his underlings. The Generalleutnant scanned the road ahead of them, it would be such a same to lose any vehicles to mines on the way there.
Smirking, Dietrich turned to the mare “very good, tell Radowitz we’re on the way.”
The mare saluted stiffly and strode away as Dietritch clicked on his radio again “2nd brigade, sweep the road ahead for mines.”
Dietrich laughed, that should delay his brigade for a while and be relatively believable to any higher ups who questioned it. With any luck, Radowitz would be dead within the half hour, and 16th division would be in Chicoltgo by nightfall. Today would be a good day for Generalleutnant Josef Dietritch.
It was at that exact moment that the tank at the front of the column detonated following a whistle. The turret flew into the air as its ammo racks exploded. Fuel drums tied to the side burst and erupted into flame as a wave of heat expanded out in every direction. It was a terrifying incident, the heavily armoured Panzer III being taken out by a single shot from an unknown location could be bad for the whole brigade.
If it was a minefield, it was a threat, but not a huge one. The real threat came from the whistling sound just before the leading Panzer detonated, that indicated some kind of Anti-tank gun. Reacting quickly, Dietrich clicked on his radio on to shout at the leading Brigade “Coil Coil!” He barked at them.
Without knowing where the fire was coming from, the only option was to put guns in every direction. The tanks and armoured vehicles started to roll in different directions and form circles of five and pointing their turrets out in every direction. It was a common and easy defensive tactic used by every changeling panzer.
Even as they formed up, AT shells started to whiz around them and crash into the ground. On shell bounced off the tank just ahead of him, another dug into a tank somewhere further back and destroyed it. This was a major enemy formation, Dietrich estimated at least 15 guns. The enemy fire also seemed to be concentrating on just 1 tank at a time instead of dispersing their fire.
“Pakfront east!” A Changeling voice shouted over the radio.
A Pakfront? But that was a griffon and changeling tactic, massing anti-tank guns and focusing on individual vehicles from concealed positions. It was a highly effective tactic which griffon infantry divisions had often used to drive away enemy armour. But why were the Equestrians using a griffon tactic, better question, how did they even know about it?
“Muzzle flashes west!” Another voice shouted over the radio. At least 30 guns, Dietrich estimated.
“Pakfront south!” Yet another voice screamed. At least 45 guns he once again reassessed.
They were caught in a caught in a killing field, no question about it. Three points of concentrated fire, each highly organised and picking them off, it was a trap. Dietrich shouted various orders into the radio, trying to coordinate fire. They were now sitting ducks in their stationary coil. It was a catastrophic strategic blunder of epic proportions, not that he’d ever admit that.
The thrum of tank guns returned fire in every single direction, aiming to suppress and destroy the guns. PanzerGrenadiers tried to make their way towards the guns, but found themselves similarly suppressed by Equestrian machine guns and rifles. A vicious small arms duel began, bullets bouncing off the dirt and armour of tanks.
At that moment, a Changeling radio operator arrived at his tank. It was the same mare from before, she’d apparently run through the chaos of the battle to reach him. The mare banged her hoof on the side of the take, trying desperately to get Dietrich’s attention over the screams of battle. The changeling officer glared down at the mare “What!” He shouted.
“Report from the back, Generalleutnant Peiper’s dead, you have the Kampfgrupper!” She shouted up at him.
“Fuck me!” He exclaimed, the Generalleutnant clicked his radio on again “all units, form Panzerkeil and drive towards the Pakfronts.” He glanced down at the radiomare “call air support, we need…”
Then an anti-tank round found his tank. The shell found a chink in the Maus heavy tanks armour and made its way inside. Improperly stored ammunition was caught by the shell and joined the fireball which consumed the vehicle. As flame rose through the vehicle, cooking his crew alive, the queens guard saw and felt a bright flash, before it was all over for him.
Several minutes earlier, 4th platoon 2nd Brigade 16th division.
Oberst Radowitz peered through the light snowfall, his eyes locked onto a lone house ahead of him. Amble Cottage the map had called it, it was one of the landmarks his navigator was using to direct the armoured platoon. Lighting up his magic, he grabbed a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck and lifted them to his eyes. Something just wasn’t right.
The building sat just before the crest of a small ridge, an almost serene place to live in peacetime. Dry brick walls, snowy roads, a great view; reminded Radowitz of his farm back home. Maybe he’d buy this place after the war, be nice to settle down in. would certainly be a nice place to retire to, build some greenhouses off his war savings and grow grape vines for wine, sounded like a lovely plan.
But that nagging feeling wouldn’t leave him, the house was beautiful and the horizon empty, but his senses just screamed danger. He’d run scouting missions before, they all gave jitters and restlessness, but this was different. It wasn’t jitters, it was just that feeling which all soldiers developed after years on the frontline; a seventh sense for detecting danger. Even his men were on high alert, the din of chatter having died down. Radowitz scanned the house again, something was just wrong. It was probably nothing, but on the off chance it was something…
Radowitz looked up as the sky, clouds were massing over them, and snow starting to fall. Wind was picking up and starting to obscure vision, a battle in this worsening weather would have to be at close range and deadly. Casualties could be huge for both sides, possibly even seeing the total annihilation of one of their forces.
The Oberst clicked his radio on “platoons halt.” He ordered the vehicles.
His three platoons were an unusually large group, made up entirely of armoured vehicles. Infantry would normally be assigned to a unit like his, but they were bogged down in mud some miles back. Non the less, his formation was still a powerful one containing capable vehicles and experienced crews. Their armoured vehicles
Two STUG’s, two Panzer IV and four Panzer III’s made up the armoured centre of the formation. The numbers came from their 12 attached Luchs light tanks (sometimes called IFV’s) and three Hummel artillery guns. At 23 armoured vehicles, his three platoons constituted near half a panzer brigade; although having far fewer heavy tanks than would be expected. Radowitz himself commanded from a STUG IV, he was trained as an assault gun leader after all.
The armoured columns stopped almost immediately, their well-maintained breaks working perfectly to stop the multi-ton vehicles. The crews of the vehicles waiting with rapt anticipation for their Oberst’s orders. Despite waiting with total discipline, the commanders did also understand the importance of working on their own initiative. If one his tankers saw something, they’d shoot.
His formation moved in two columns spaced 30m apart, Radowitz’s assault gun led the left column, the other assault gun leading the right. The house causing so much unease was closest to the right column “Column 2 lead, could you point your gun at that house.” He ordered.
“Roger” came the reply from the other vehicle.
The assault gun fired up its engine and ran its treads in opposite directions. With STUG’s having a fixed gun, the entire vehicle needed to rotate to face the target. The vehicle turned on the spot until its heavy gun was pointed right at the small house. After a moment of silence, gunfire erupted from the house.
The gunfire was noticeably automatic, then an anti-tank rifle joined the crack of the guns. Lead bounced off the slowed armour of the changeling tanks as the armoured vehicles held their fire. The automatic fire and AT rifle told Radowitz all he needed to know, UPF forces. Unless his vehicles got close enough for their bazookas to penetrate, they weren’t in any real trouble.
The Oberst clicked his radio on and calmly addressed his platoon “pop HE in there would you.”
After a second’s delay, the second STUG fired a high explosive round into the house. The shell exploded inside the house and blew its windows out. Plaster, brick and wood intermixed as its walls caved in. The small and once serene cottage was reduced to a pile of smoke rubble by a single shot.
“Hold fire.” Radowitz calmly ordered. Without a house, he might be able to get a cheaper price for the land at least.
An explosion rocked the ground next to them and sent up a wave of snow which obscured Radowitz’s vision. Despite this, his tank commanders acted independently and quickly to neutralise the threat. Calls of a bearing and distance echoed over the radio before the drilling of an auto cannon and echo of a single shell filled the air.
“Target destroyed.” One of his commanders reported.
With the air around him clearing, Radowitz grabbed his binoculars in his magic and pointed them at something flaming near the base of the house. He very briefly registered the sight of a panzer III’s barrel smoking before focusing on the target. His heart dropped, it wasn’t an AT gun, that was a tank. “Looks like a tank.” He quickly reported to the platoons.
One of the other commanders from the second column confirmed his worst fears a moment later “I can see it better, it’s definitely a Crusader. Looks like its hull down.”
The formation remained stationary in the absence of orders, Radowitz himself debating his options. It wasn’t unusual for random militia or rogue civilians to take occasionally pot shots at them with rifles and shotguns, so they weren’t any stranger to getting shot at. AT rifles and automatic weapons were a worry though, the position and armament of their attackers were similar to UPF patrol pickets. The presence of a tank was also frightening, Crystal imperial forces loved to concentrate their tanks in a way similar to the Reich, tanks were never alone.
Glancing up again, Radowitz judged the weather. The wind had picked up and snow was falling by thicker. The powdered snow was being whipped up into a haze and obscuring vision even more than before. Visibility was a poor, and the noise made by the wind made any audial recon completely impossible.
Advancing ran the risk of running into an armoured enemy force, outnumbered and in horrible conditions, they would either be annihilated or have a brief advantage. Holding here on the other hand would mean reinforcements, but any nearby Crystal Imperial artillery could zero in on their position and a strong counterattack could throw them back.
Taking in a sharp breath, Radowitz click his radio on and made his decision “battle stations, go tanks lead on Panzerkeil.”
As a wave of confirmations came by the radio, the 6 panzers of the formation slid out of column and made a wedge formation linking the two groups, the 12 Luchs tanks formed an identical 2 width wedge behind the leading panzers. The two STUG’s meanwhile stayed where they were, needing space to rotate if they wanted to fire. Last of all, he three Hummel’s sat some 20m the STUG’s, the self propelled guns would be very vulnerable in a battle. Their best bet would be to stay back and pick targets off at a distance.
“Where are we D?” Oberst Radowitz asked his driver through the intercom.
“Just crossed into 73 easting of Chicoltgo.” Came the reply from his driver. The young mare was a nice ling, an aspiring race car driver drafted into the tank corps following the great retreat.
Radowitz clicked his radio on “PR, report enemy contact at 73 easting, armoured contact included.”
The Pirate Radio was a lovingly nicknamed Panzer III in his platoon. The tank had been outfitted with a more powerful radio than the rest of the vehicles in the group, and informally designated their communications vehicle. Although Radowitz doubted Dietrich would do anything about it, it was his duty to report contact regardless.
“Platoon advance, keep it slow.” Radowitz ordered.
The armoured vehicles slowly made their way towards the crest of the ridge, maintaining their formation as they went. Their Oberst only prompting them a couple of times to stop drifting and maintain a constant speed. Maintaining their formation, the armoured column advanced at a slow speed, the crews now fully alert. Radowitz himself traded his officer’s hat for a helmet, and gripped his machine gun with both hooves.
The leading panzers crossed over the ridge and disappeared briefly from the view of their leader. A few seconds later, the STUG’s crossed the lip of the ridge. When the tank levelled out, Radowitz could only balk at what was before him. The panzers had completely stopped, he could see their commanders frozen, unsure what to do.
Just ahead of them was a dense defensive concentration of UPF forces. Blockhouses, trenches, ditches, tanks, batteries and light vehicles dotted the area ahead of them at just 500 meters out, that’s how close they were to each other. Close enough to shout insults at each other, with no cover between the two groups. The banner of the Crystal empire flying high over the defences, proudly defiant to the changelings.
At an immediately glance, Radowitz could tell they had more tanks than him. He saw firefly’s and Crusader’s, both strong vehicles, the front group of which were rotating their turrets on his vehicles. The ponies were barely even surprised, reacting immediately as small arms fire began to pepper his tanks.
Making his split-second decision, Radowitz clicked his radio on and barked a deadly order “independent targeting, fire at will! Charge them! PR report we have been decisively engage at 73 easting and need immediate reinforcements!”
The armoured vehicles of his group made their standing start and accelerated to their top speed and charged the crystal ponies. Autocannons mounted on Luchs tanks sprayed in a constant deafening drone, pausing only as the crews chucked new belts of ammunition on. Tracers from high calibre machine guns crossed the closing distance like deadly fireworks. Two of the leading panzers knocked out a pair of Crusader’s making up the line closest them.
Not to be outdone, the ponies returned with a ferocious barrage. Shells from Firefly and Crusader tanks landed among the charging changeling vehicles, some bounced off armour, and a few exploded on the hulls of the leading tanks. AT fire from batteries punched holes in the air and tracers from machine guns aimed high at tank commanders and gunner optics. An AA gun even depressed its four barrels low enough to spray airburst rounds at the Heer forces.
Holding down the trigger on his 50cal and spraying a blockhouse, Radowitz shouted at his gunner “take out that AA gun!”
Wordlessly, the driver accelerated one of the STUG’s treads to turn it to face the AA gun. A HE shell left the barrel as screamed towards the AA gun as AP rounds smashed into the ground where the vehicle would have been if it hadn’t changed course. The HE shell found its mark as the gun went up in a fireball.
The Assault Gun commander continued to spray his 50cal at muzzle flashes and smoke. It was an almost out of body experience as Radowitz shouted targets and the STUG’s swerved and fired off shells at the various targets. All the while, bullets bounced off the armoured vehicle and explosions buffeted the exposed officer.
With the range only decreasing, the ferocity of the engagement increased. Crystal Ponies threw grenades as the weight of fire only increased. One armour piercing shell flew right by Radowitz’s STUG moments before a wave of heat and terrible screeching of bending metal hit him from behind. Without even looking around to confirm one of their Hummels was gone, Radowitz directed his Assault Gun to knock out the battery responsible.
With the changing panzers now inside the first layer of the defences, order and communication completely broke down. With every vehicle taking fire from at least 3 directions and the Crystal Imperial tanks continuing their ferocious return fire, any sort of strategy other than bash their armoured vehicles against the opponent was completely worthless with the range sometimes being as short as throwing distance. This range was confirmed by Crystal ponies trying to throw grenades into the open commanders hatch of a leading panzer. Radowitz watched the silhouette of the tank commander catch the grenade in his magic and throw it right back at them.
The panzers in the frontline were absorbing an enormous amount of punishment, far more than the designers intended. One of the tanks had its turret bent at an impossible angle, the crew meanwhile threw grenades out of open hatches and chucked fire out from pistols and a panzerfaust. Another Panzer was on fire, but still moving forwards and throwing out a spirited return fire. By some miracle, all 6 of the panzers were still moving and shooting.
The Luchs IFV’s meanwhile were taking the punishment far worse off, one vehicle had its treads blown clean off and was rendered immobile. The autocannon still spitting lead into a pillbox as the commander leant out of the turret, clutching a pistol in his magic and firing at a foxhole. Radowitz’s STUG passed by the immobile IFV and briefly made eye contact with its commander, the two nodded at each other before looking away and continuing the battle.
One particularly unlucky Luchs was being pounded by rifle grenades from crystal infantry, the crew inside probably being thrown around like maracas. Crystal ponies had attempted to scale another, clutching satchels of explosives and going for the hatches in a show of unfathomable bravery. The vehicle commander, not to be outdone, clambered out of the turret and was wrestling with one of the ponies, striking him repletely with a tire iron. Despite this, the ponies comrades still went for the open hatch with explosives, Radowitz had put a quick halt to that with his machine gun.
As he reloaded his machine gun, Radowitz watched in horror as a Crystal Pony exited a foxhole and sprinted at another one of the Luchs. Clutching a bazooka, the pony reached the tank and pressed the barrel against its side. The resulting blast blew the suicidally brave pony to pieces, but also destroyed the Luchs. Its turret being blown into the air by the resulting secondary explosions. Radowitz’s assault gun swerved around the wreck and shook as another shell was let loose by the gunner.
Amid the brutality of the battle, one thing was however clear, the changelings were winning. The momentum and tenacity of the Heer vehicles and their crews had driven a wedge into the Crystal imperial defensive formation. Additionally, only 2 of the Changeling tanks had been fully destroyed, sure some were immobilised and others stripped of weapons, but only 2 actually fully destroyed, and one of those was a basically useless Hummel. The Crystal Imperial tanks and vehicles meanwhile were mostly burning hulks or abandoned by their crews.
Finally, the heavy return fire subsided as the last Crystal Pony tank was destroyed. The Crusader, whose gun was blown in, had accelerated a driven right into the side of a panzer, nearly flipping it. With the front of the tank mangled and its commander being shot, the vehicle was effectively destroyed. The remaining infantry were scattering into the hills in every direction or throwing up their hooves in surrender. Radowitz clicked on his radio and ordered the Platoons to halt and cease their fire. The gunfire stopped as everything suddenly became very still.
A few drivers from the panzers and Luchs quickly clambered out of their vehicles, rifles in hand, and ran about the surrendering ponies. They began to coax the Crystal Ponies out their foxholes and trenches and line them up in front of the tanks. Radowitz would never dream of gunning down prisoners, but it was best to keep the prisoners where he could easily see them.
One fun sight was the Luchs commander who had clambered out of his turret was still alive, clutching a tire iron in his magic and looking no worse for wear. Glancing back, Radowitz realised that they were on the other side of the defensive concentration, having smashed right down the middle. The absolutely anarchy was totally overshadowed by his surprise at the two Hummels still behind him. One was riddled with bullets, the other’s superstructure was totally wrecked but somehow still intact.
A pair of very smug looking gunners waved at the officer from the ruined open superstructure. Both of them hefted rifles and were surrounded by the spent bullet casings. The normally stoic officer whose personal motto was ‘don’t let them see the real you’ actually laughed and shouted back at them “I legitimately thought you’d died.”
“Yeah we did too.” One of the crewmen shouted back “AT shell blew our gun and ammo off before they exploded somewhere behind us.”
Radowitz laughed as he looked forward at the panzer commanders. He could see and hear them laughing in disbelief at what had just happened. Had they really just driven right through an impossibly dense defensive concentration of Crystal tanks and come out nearly unscathed? Yes, yes they just had.
One of the leading panzer commanders lit up his radio and let out a deep breath “I’d say there were 25-30 tanks and some 30-40 other vehicles there. Sir, how the fuck are we alive?”
Radowitz laughed over the radio, letting the rest of his men hear his incredulous tone. Before the Oberst could answer, one of the other vehicle commanders piped up “a mixture of divine intervention and 3 inches of steel.”
“And some damn good shooting, I’ll see if I can get us a double ration of schnapps tonight.” Radowitz proclaimed to a collective cheer, even his own crew cheered in joy at the prospect of more schnapps.
The Changeling smiled as he clicked his radio on again “alright let’s make a coil and wait for our infantry to catch up.”
As the vehicles started to form a coil formation, and the pony prisoners were corralled into the centre. The radio crackled and the familiar voice of the PR appeared “err, Oberst?”
“Go.” Radowitz ordered plainly.
“News from command, they say…” The radioling paused before muttering “shit.”
“What is it operator?” Radowitz questioned, now quite intrigued by the apprehension which had dragged itself into the lings voice.
“They say… Generalleutnant’s Peiper and Deitrich are dead, and you have the Kampfgrupper.” The voice said slowly and deliberately.
Stunned for a moment, Dietrich took off his helmet and rubbed his bare head with a hoof before concurring with the radio operator “shit.”