//------------------------------// // The Diggers // Story: Nearing the Edge // by Eagle //------------------------------// April 18th, 2006 0900 Hours Southwestern Equestria, near Vanhoover The lush habitat of fields and meadows covering the hills and valleys in the area gave a moderate contrast to most areas of the southern island. Though the oddness of the land’s inhabitants understandably proved to be far more queer to the men than the local terrain. The culture shock of the strange land of magic and creatures gave a sort of sensory overload to them at times, trying to get a grip on the rules of reality. What carried over from the regular world and what could best be researched by guessing mythology was up in the air. Regardless, the Diggers of the Royal Australian Regiment were enjoying their deployment. Disregarding the rather annoying orders provided by the American strategy designers that left them alone in an awkward position between the border and main line, it was a calm mission that left many of the troopers satisfied. Leaving the strangeness of the Equestrians for the solitude of the countryside, colored green and tanned brown by the sun, was a relaxing experience for Private Waters. Of course even in a lovely peace, a soldier cannot stay inactive forever. Things became so eased that when a war broke out the Australians practically jumped at the chance to take an active role in the vital action their unit had been raised for. To Waters, and all the others, the eruption of conflict put paid to the belief in the job they thought so important for the battles that seemed so inevitable in human nature. They intended their fight to be sharp and powerful, and act as proof of why they were here. “Well Waters, hope you’re ready for a shit-hot fight!” declared Lance Corporal Juno, strolling own the face of the knoll to Waters’ position. “So they finally decided? What’s it going to be? Plan A or Plan B?” Waters asked. “B, since the Equestrians couldn’t hold on to the border over the night. Command figured it’s best to pull back now while we still got our arms and legs attached to us.” “So why’re you saying we’re in for a nice fight? We can’t be moving that slow, can we?” “Nah, it’s those Changeling paratroopers man. They’re dropping all over; the horsies we picked up say they’re organizing faster than we thought.” “Christ, that quickly!?” exclaimed Waters, jerking his head too scan over the open land ahead of him. “Fucking Flies trying to pin us down. We’ll give them a proper Aussie salute!” “We’ll need to, we’re covering the rest of RAR till they can get everything out,” Juno stated. “Lucky for us some Yank marines cleared up our MSR, so we’ve got a clear path out of here once we’re ready to go.” “And when will we be ready to go?” “Not sure, but it’ll be a while; a couple of hours maybe. Everything needs to be packed up. It’ll be on us to hold the Flies off until then, so no falling back.” “Oh it’ll be a ripper blue alright.” “Aye, no one drinks with the Flies tonight, okay? Just dump all your lead into them and swat them off,” Juno advised. The machine gunner gave a look over their positions from his gun-pit. The Milan anti-tank team played a game of Draughts with Private Ward on his makeshift board of cloth. The ASLAV crews dug in below continued chopping at small branches and bushes to acquire more camouflage material for their vehicles. It was a soothingly busy kind of calm. Waters and his platoon were dug in on a small hill overlooking a good portion of the area. Referred to as ‘Objective Boulder’ officially, it served as an excellent defense position for the men as it the front of the regiment. The main drawback was the obviousness of the choice, and it was likely the Changelings would correctly guess that their enemy lay in wait there. This did not worry the men too terribly, as they simply decided to dig in and await the coming battle. “Tank spotted, everyone down!” one of the lookouts yelled. Waters ducked down into cover, along with the other soldiers, before the order was passed on to hold fire. “What is it?” Waters called out. “ASLAV crew’s saying it's an Abrams,” answered Sergeant Blackwood, his section commander. “Probably an Equestrian one.” “Any orders Sergeant?” “Aye, they said we could fold in any retreating troops in the briefing, and we could use a tank. Head down there and drag the bastards over here.” Waters followed his orders, worried that the tank would fire on him on sight in spite of approaching from their front with his hands up and empty. To his relief they did no such thing, perhaps realizing that he had to be an ally, considering he was human. As Waters approached, however, he had the dreadful fear return as he realized that, despite his calls and signals to do so, the tank was not slowing down. The Australian jumped off to the right off the road and out of the way just as the driver of the machine hit the breaks, bringing the Abrams to a slow halt a few feet past Waters. Before the tank could take off again, he was already climbing on the deck, banging angrily against the top. “Oi! You hear me!? Open this fucking thing up you bastard! Right-the-fuck-now!” The tank commander did as he was asked, pushing open the hatch and nearly trapping Waters’ fingers. From it appeared a small pony in a tanker’s uniform which covered most of his grassy green coat. He was greeted by the greatly irritated Digger, staring him down with a sharp glare that could cut steel. “Who are you?” inquired the man. “I’m, uh, Lieutenant Ring. Lieutenant Rainy Ring! Who are you?” “Waters, and you damn near ran me over,” the human grunted. “Where are you running to in such a hurry?” “Back… somewhere secure, I guess,” the Equestrian officer replied, not exactly sure as to where he was heading. “The Changelings attacked us last night and overran the border. W-we’ve been trying to get back to ah, to regroup with some other unit, so we can defend a new position better.” “Well you came to the right place.” “Wait, you’re all planning to fight?” “We’re not planning on doin’ a flit, mate. I know that much.” “A-a what!? But the Changelings are all around us! We need to get back to the American lines, all of us!” “We will, and we’re going to march back in order. Until we’re set and ready to move we’re staying here,” the Private shot back. “Now I’d ask if you’re staying or leaving, but from what you told me you seem like you’d want to stay and ‘regroup’ with us. It’s a good little position to defend, and we could use the heavy armor. Unless you plan on making it back to the Americans solo.” “No! Not at all! I… we’ll stay with you all.” “Right, get back there and talk with the ASLAV boys. They’ll know the best place to put you.” After getting the tank to return, the Australian made his way back to his own position. Waters came back with a slightly odd pride in having stopped and virtually conscripted an officer into their ranks, though the broken nature of the recently shattered Equestrian forces did not make it a difficult task. The morning continued to pass rather calmly as the men continued the arduous task of waiting and watching for their enemy. Eventually a call came in from a pair of forward scouts that Changeling forces were massing. The call of ‘stand to’ rang out among the defenses. This was followed shortly by the cry of ‘contact!’ among the men as rounds began to fly into the Australian positions. Hearing the call mixed with the sound of bullets impacting the dirt, Waters ducked into his pit. The camouflage on his uniform and the grasses and leaves strapped to his helmet helped to cover the open patch of ground his position made. Other than the pit, this simple illusion would be his only other protection. “Contact! In the trees, at three!” someone shouted. “Return fire!” “Waters!” Sergeant Blackwood, pulling himself along the ground, crawled into the small gun-pit. “Hostiles, near that pine tree cluster!” he yelled, pointing his hand towards the enemy. “Suppress them! Don't let them close!” “Aye Sergeant!” the Private confirmed as his commander pulled himself back out to tend to other matters. Waters chambered a round into his F89 Minimi machine gun and took aim. Holding the trigger back, he felt the weapon rattle against his shoulder as it shot long bursts of bullets towards the targets. He let up for a moment to judge the impact and adjust his aim before firing again. The continued fire left long muzzle flashes that blew back the grass surrounding the barrel as the gun chattered away. After two long bursts the order of ceasefire was passed down the line progressively over the noise. Section by section the men ceased fire as word was passed down. The gunfire had stopped all together and Waters poked his head up to see what had become of the targets. “Enemy is scouting our lines!” another soldier called, passing down the information. “Keep watch and gather up your ammunition! Be ready for artillery and air strikes!” Waters began the process of reloading his gun to a full drum, but in less than a minute the forewarned dangers struck. Indirect fire began to strike the Australian line, forcing them to dive for the cover of their pits and trenches to hide from the shrapnel. Luckily, the bombardment was small in caliber, being merely mortars rather than larger tube artillery. The few large guns the Changeling airborne units brought had not yet deployed, and their mortar units contented themselves with lambasting the humans, causing them to seek shelter but doing minor damage in total. All around the line the earth burst upwards at random as small explosions churned up little clusters of dirt, grass, and rocks. Waters did not look up to watch the spectacle, instead ducking his head deep down into his gun pit. There was no need to risk getting a shrapnel piece in the head. Waters began to count the seconds to himself as the shallow explosions continued. One minute passed, then two. He had almost gotten to three when he heard the shouting of his comrades again over the bombardment. “Enemies advancing on our position from the west! Open fire on them!” The line once again opened fire in lessened amounts as the mortars continued on. Waters looked up and followed the tracers towards his new target. A group of Changeling paratroopers, two squads at least, were moving up the hill. Waters set up his gun again and opened fire, with weapon chattering on once more. He saw at least one figure collapse to the ground as it was moving up, followed by another close behind him. The remainder also fell to the ground in search of cover, not daring to move into the gun’s line of fire. The Digger could not directly see his targets in the grass, but he did not dare hold his fire, continuing to send the lengthy bursts in their last direction to keep them suppressed. Unfortunately, this also made him a larger target and fire from supporting Changelings back in the cover of the woods was soon directed at him, making his job far more difficult. The situation was similar along much of the Australian line as the Changeling paratroopers advanced in sizable groups with little warning. Weapons from both sides traded rounds between the AUGs and AK rifles, PKMs and Minimi machine guns. The mortar barrage that was meant to keep the Australians hunkered down let up in accordance with the attack schedule, but the Changeling infantry itself had not yet reached the Australian lines. The attackers soon realized they would not be able to do so and retreated rather than suffer more casualties. The pressure on the line ceased though fire continued to be exchanged with the Changelings in the woods, and men were unable to move about easily. “Lim! Can you hear me!?” Waters called out to his squadmate over the noise. “What is it?” “Bring me some more ammo!” “Right, I’ll go grab it!” Waters returned his attention to his front, continuing to fire in the direction of where he thought the enemy was until Lim returned, sliding into his hole with two drums in his hand and belts of bullets dangling along his neck. “They didn’t have any more drums?” “I couldn’t take all of them!” Lim answered. “Right, hold on!” Waters said as he fired a final burst from the now-empty drum container. “Belt first, help feed it in!” Lim complied and helped the gunner set the long ammunition belt, then began to feed it into the machine gun steadily as Waters continued his work. From their far left, the two men noticed combat vehicles moving in from the Changeling’s direction. They paid them little attention, having to focus on their job of keeping the enemy infantry at bay. Three of the BMDs advanced in a brisk pace towards the Australian lines on the hill, firing their guns as they did so. Before they could get close, some of the ASLAV gunners in the valley turned their main guns on them. They died in terribly quick succession, with the first two being struck by multiple armor-piercing rounds and the third increasing speed and backing up, only to be hit by a TOW missile from one of the ASLAVs and explode with a horrible fire brewing up from the metal carcass. “Fucking Flies are going to have to try harder if they want to get us, ey!?” Lim asked. “Get the next belt up, mate!” Waters replied, keeping his focus on the situation. Lim allowed the last of the belt to pull from his hands as the Minimi ate it up and spat it out. Waters’ bullets had chipped away at the Changeling cover, tearing up trees and bushes in a quick fashion. He had not seen it, but the bullets had also cut down three other Changelings over the course of the engagement. The Minimi fell silent momentarily before the two Diggers secured the second belt and continued the battle. The deadly accuracy of the Australians with every weapon was beginning to tell as Changeling casualties mounted. Some of the humans were inevitably hit, but the ratio was increasingly becoming one-sided. Regardless, the humans had to be defeated, and another attack was organized with much heavier support. In Waters’ gun-pit, the men sighted another Changeling vehicle crawling through the woods ahead of them. The BTR targeted one of the other pits containing a machine gun and silenced it with a barrage of cannon shells, killing the operator and destroying the weapon. It then turned its attention to Waters and the two ducked down in expectation of the same treatment. Instead, there was a louder solitary crack as the Equestrian tank finally fired its main gun, destroying the BTR. The momentary victory was replaced by another, more dire sound. The dull roar of jets flying in low filled the air. Knowing that the Allied air forces were on the defensive, each man understood they would be the target of the bombs. Various warning calls went up but the sound itself spread the word faster, as everyone sought cover and hoped they would be lucky enough to survive. The Changeling attack jets, IAR-93s touting loads of high-explosive bombs, began their runs on the Australian positions. The first attacked one of the lower valleys where the ASLAVs were hidden, destroying two in its run and turning to further strafe the position before retiring. The second continued on to bomb the main force of the battalion behind the lines, sparing the men of the company at the front but killing a number of support troops as they attempted to complete the loading. The Diggers had barely gotten over the shock of the bombing before an artillery bombardment struck them. This round was more than just the mortars, and the heavier guns of the Changeling division’s howitzer battery added their weight to the attack. The larger shells proved to be far more deadly, tearing the ground apart along with the men taking cover in it. Some of the pits were struck directly and became graves for the Diggers sheltering in them, or in the worst cases sending the few remaining pieces of them skyward, mixed with the clumps of dirt and grass before it all fell back down to the Earth. Waters and Lim huddled in their cramped gun-pit, trying to survive the attack. “Christ, just make this fuckin stop!” Lim yelled, vainly begging anyone who listened to end the torture. “Just keep your head down mate!” “I can’t even fucking hear myself anymore! I’m going to go fucking deaf!” A final round of shells fell along the Australian positions, bursting apart and covering the area in a dense cloud of white. “Agh shite!” shouted Lim as he coughed. “Gas! Is this fucking gas!?” “Smoke, not gas… just smoke!” Waters calmed him. “Just-ach! Ugh, just keep your head low and breath through your nose! Keep it shallow!” “They’re smokin’ us, they’re going to be moving in on us!” “Waters!” The gunner turned around to face the voice, watching Sergeant Blackwood jog up to his position from the rear and awkwardly cradling one of the larger radio kits. “Sergeant?” “Hold on!” Blackwood replied as he stopped and set the radio down, shoving a finger in his left ear as he attempted to talk on the radio. “Gum Tree Four-Four to Sunshine! Gum Tree Four-Four to Sunshine! Be advised, Objective Bolder is under heavy pressure from artillery and ground assault! We have casualties and it is not known how long we can hold! Repeat, Boulder is under serious attack! Status of other objectives is unknown, out!” “Waters!” the Sergeant jumped as he turned his attention to the gunner, casting away the radio. “They’re moving through the smoke! Get shooting!” “Which direction Sir?” “In front of you! The smoke won’t stop bullets, just don’t stop shooting!” Blackwood ordered as he laid prone along the grass. “Lim, you and I are holding fire till they get close! Full auto and don’t miss! Get ready for hand-to-hand!” Waters heard gunfire pick up from the surviving vehicles that used their infrared sights to pick out targets in the smoke, indicating an attack was moving in. He retrieved one of the drum magazines for his gun as Lim retrieved his AUG to cover their left side. The Minimi erupted once more, not bothering to stop this time. He blew through the ammunition at a much faster rate, and he hoped that he hit something through the cloud, or at least caused the enemy to slow down. The barrel of the gun began to glow red from the heat as Waters fired all along his front. Relief only came when the drum ran dry, and Waters quickly scooped up another an attached it to continue his desperate task. Blackwood noticed something moving through the smoke to his front and took aim, firing a long burst from his weapon that caused the figure to drop. He fired another short round to ensure it was dead before searching for other targets. A second ran up much quicker and the Sergeant dumped his remaining rounds into his chest, causing the Changeling paratrooper to fall five feet from his spot. Lim sighted another moving past them on his side and did the same, though it took another two bursts before the attacker was finally dead. Another had the poor misfortune of running right in front of Waters’ pit and was easily killed by the machine gun, rolling back down the hill and leaving a green blood trail that would be masked by the grass that survived the artillery, while obvious against the bald patches of dirt. Such was the action all along the company’s front. The Changelings had hoped the Australians would run, or at least be too devastated by the bombardment to offer real resistance. However, in each slit-trench and every gun-pit the individual teams of Diggers stood their ground, frantically firing into the smoke and violently cutting down any figure that approached to their front. The battle of bullets soon closed to grenade range as the two sides lugged the small hand bombs at each-other, with the Australians having a greater advantage thanks to being on top of a hill. Still, the smoke cover allowed the Changelings to move close and the battle evolved again to a much more personal status. The fighting began to become desperate as individual fights broke out with gun stocks and knives. Even so the Australians fought them off one-by-one as the black hoofs and fangs were answered with kicks and fists. To his left, Lim let out a yell as he gave a vicious strike with his rifle to an unsuspecting Changeling, breaking his snout and sending him to the ground before the Digger fired into his head. Another spotted Blackwood through the smoke and opened fire, but was off too far and was too slow to correct by the time the Sergeant hit him with his own burst. The smoke slowly began to dissipate and was carried off by the wind, revealing more and more of the hillside and the combatants on it as casualties began to mount. The whistle of artillery shells came again, but from a different direction. When they struck, it was nowhere near the human lines. Instead, they struck the far off positions that the Changelings had occupied and harrased the Australians from. Contact had finally been made with the American artillery farther back behind the lines and, firing from a great range, the massive artillery guns pounded the positions in front of the Australians. The great shells struck in two long salvos that tore apart the Changelings hiding in the woods and hills, followed by a saturating barrage of rockets from an MLRS battery. The hefty destruction wrought by the artillery finally broke the Changeling attack. With the smoke clearing and their own supporting teams behind them being wiped out, the surviving paratroopers began to turn and escape little by little. Most took to the air with their wings to avoid having to run back through the explosive bombardment, taking all manner of wild maneuvers to avoid being shot by the vengeful humans they left behind. The smoke cleared away to show a beautifully devastating sight. The positions ahead of Objective Boulder were thoroughly smashed and Changeling paratroopers were flying back as quickly as they could. The air cleared to reveal several dozen groups as the bodies of paratroopers littered the hillside from base to summit. It was a dreadful image in itself, but one of victory for Charlie Company of the Sixth Battalion. The Diggers began to hoot and yell and raise their helmets and rifle to the air at their survival. “Get stuffed you fucking drongo bugs!” Lim insulted, shaking his AUG at their retreating foes. “Don’t come back unless you mongrel flies want another arse beating! You hear me!?” “Damned fine work,” Blackwood sighed, slouching behind Waters’ pit and grabbing the radio as the gunner nodded in agreement. “Sunshine, do you copy? This Gum Tree Four-Four. Got a SITREP for you, over.” “Send it, Gum Tree.” “Enemy attack is broken, area secured. Give my regards to the Yanks, even if they were late.” “Understood, we’ll pass that on for you. Be advised that Battalion’s almost ready to move out. We’re sending medical personnel to your position, so get your wounded together and collect your men and equipment. We’re moving out soon, out.” With the Battle of Objective Boulder won in a rather decisive manner, the 6th Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment gathered all their equipment and men, alive or not, and began the ride back to the Papa Line. The journey itself was uneventful, and the men passed the weary survivors of the American marine unit that had opened the door for them. With a knowing ‘thank you’, the Australians passed on, with the marines following once the last of them had passed through. After the dreadfully broken and routed state of the Equestrian forces that had flowed back from the border, the American infantry were shocked to see their allies returning in good shape and order, something the RAR took a deserving amount of pride in.