A teaser · 5:37am Jul 20th, 2014
The supplies were still not coming in the required quantities, and while the replenishment issue had been an issue since Cordon had begun, it had never been this bad.
In his entire military career, at a corps level, Major General Clement McAuliffe had never seen a supply situation as bad as it was now.
The UN/NATO force had approximately three days worth of supplies left. Depleted battalions were getting pulled off the line almost as fast as they arrived. Companies without bullets wandered around, completely useless to the defense of the highway; they were still alive though, which meant that though they simply sat around and waited to be rearmed, they needed supplies of their own. It was a drain on an already perilously-stretched logistical corps, which was busy managing both the influx of supplies coming out of the portal to keep the defenders fighting, and the nine million pony refugees crammed along a fifty mile stretch of dirt road that were all going back through the portal to Wright-Patterson AFB.
He had men that needed to be fed and armed, and vehicles that needed to be fueled. He had several thousand non-combat personnel that were doing their best to control the chaotic exodus, and an exhausted Red Cross civilian contingent that was running itself to the bone trying to keep many millions of ponies alive and fed as the huge congregation slowly moved towards their destination.
It was a logistical nightmare, and he was surprised that they’d managed to last this long. But in a little under 72 hours, if they didn’t get one hell of a load of munitions, food, and fuel in to keep his men fighting, everyone was going to die.
His aide-de-camp, a captain, called him over. He held a report from one of his brigade commanders.
“Sir, Colonel Miles is reporting increased Mycan activity around his perimeter.” He pulled over the map that had been left on Auliffe’s table. “Mycan numbers have intensified significantly here, here, and here.” He pointed to the respective locations, arranged around the green circle that marked the 29th infantry brigade’s position. “Given the increase in enemy numbers, as well as intensifying attacks along his perimeter, Colonel Miles believes that a multidivisional attack may begin on his position as early as tomorrow. He requests permission to pull his troops back and reestablish a shortened defensive line along the bluff here.” He pointed to a position that was several kilometers behind Miles’ current position. It was a good position to defend from; the topography featured steep rock faces that would be difficult for any enemy to scale.
He’d also be pulling back to the same ridgeline that was the highway’s border. Even though he’d command a better position than the flat ground he currently occupied, it would distance him from the British armored battalion that was securing his flank at Hollenfauze. Worse still, his troops would be defending their position only a hundred yards away from the highway itself. If his lines were breached, there would be nothing between the hundreds of thousands of pony civilians that crammed the length of the road and the Mycans. There would be nowhere for his men to retreat to. It was too risky for his liking.
A multidivisional attack, though, would still pierce the dangerously-thin American line. If the 29th held their position, they’d be annihilated.
“Tell Colonel Miles that he is to hold his position and prepare for an attack.” A thought occurred to him. “Campbell, is that Belgian brigade, the one that came through on Thursday, in place yet?”
“No sir, they’ve had trouble getting their vehicles through the pass-“
“Are they supplied?”
“Not fully, sir, but well enough to hold their own for a few days.”
“Move them to reinforce the 29th. I want them there and in place by early morning. Make sure our traffic-control officers know they’re high priority. How’s the overall defensive line holding up?”
Campbell grimaced. “We’re holding them back for now sir, but we’re dangerously low on supplies. A lot of battalions are no longer combat effective. The pony civvies are also getting it bad. They’re getting quarter-rations twice a day, but it’s not enough. Sanitation is also becoming an issue. We might be looking at a bacterial outbreak in the next few days.”
Auliffe frowned. The civilians were only technically under his purview as the commander on-site, but it was a universal issue. His men needed supplies, and the ponies needed food and medicine.
The only feasible option was risky, and likely to rile some people up back home, but it was necessary for the survival of each person and pony trapped in the Dachen corridor. They’d need to close the entirety of civilian traffic through the portal and devote it all to bringing in as many supplies as they could. They’d need at least three days to bring in enough supplies to sustain the army group for another week-and-a-half, which would add another three days onto the total evacuation time. The civilians wouldn’t like it, but the prospect of more food and better conditions would persuade them, and Auliffe had the authority to regulate portal traffic.
It would be dangerous, and would worry some powerful people back home, but tough shit, he thought. He was sitting in a damp tent on the side of the highway organizing the defense, not the people sitting in padded chairs in air-conditioned rooms in the Pentagon.
His aide, finished with his report, moved to exit the tent. But Auliffe had one last unknown he needed to address.
“Captain, what’s the status of the Imperial Guard regiment up north?”
Campbell turned to face the general and frowned. The Guard were the ones holding the Mycans back at the extreme end of the column. They’d held back every attack thrown at them thus far, and suffered murderously for it.
“Sir, the Imperial Guard are currently positioned along the banks of the Komaren river. They’ve blown the only bridge in the salient, but they’ve believe that the Mycans are going to attempt a crossing regardless. Major Helm reports he will be able to hold his position, but requests artillery support to disrupt enemy preparations.”
Auliffe pictured the Guard’s AO in his head. The nearest battery of artillery was a group of 155mm pieces supporting French defenses in the Azion-Marinsky district, and that area was getting hit hard by unrelenting all-day attacks.
It would have to do. “Tell Major Helm that he’ll get the artillery. Have him report any additional enemy movements.”
Nodding respectfully, his aide exited the tent, and Auliffe released the breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
If he got out of this alive, he was going to move to a place so remote he’d never have to see a damned road again.
A teaser? Perhaps. Maybe it's just my brain firing on one piston at 1:30 in the morning. Regardless, tell me what you guys think. I may post a continuation teaser, if you guys would like it.
Inspired by this.
