Lionel Descoteaux, Commander of the DLI Marseille Night, had a difficult job that hectic morning. He checked, double checked, and checked again with the crews of the other ironclads to make sure the machines were operating as they should. Sometimes, the coal-powered monsters didnt want to play nice with the crews. Ironclads getting stuck in the mud when crossing into Gaul delayed the column for a few days. Descoteaux, at night when things were quiet, could hear Dalmacian battleships to the north, intercepting ships by force or shelling targets on land.
The column moved smoothly once it crossed into Gaul, however. And now, the sun rises in the east to mark the first ground operation of the war in Europe. Descoteaux returned to his personal ironclad, the Marseille Night.
You think the navy left anything for us? Fiacre Lebeau, Lead Machine Gunner, muttered. Freiburg, the Eruch city in northwestern France, was by all accounts a small town. Some of the boys from the big cities like Chartres, Dalmace, Marseilles, and to a lesser extent, Avignon, joked that Freiburg could probably fit Freiburg in one of the larger warehouses in the naval district of Avignon.
If there was nothing left but dust, I would be happy Fiacre. Descoteaux shrugged. I say, let the navy level everything on the coasts and this war might be over by Christmas. Lebeau grinned and helped Descoteaux board the ironclad. Dalmacian Ironclads typically have a crew of ten, and if you werent the commander, you felt the heat all too well. Descoteaux left the ironclad unhatched, but he would break someones skull if they complained about the heat anyway. Crossing the Saharan Desert in a coal-powered box of steel was the exact opposite of what Descoteaux ever wanted to do again.
Inside the ironclad, Descoteaux checked things over. The engineers worked the engines, the driver drived, and the machine gunners killed everything with a pulse. The lack of a big gun in the vessel was a good thing, since the idea of shells inside the heated monstrosity was all it took to fill him with a sense of dread. That was what the battleships and artillery boys were for anyway.
Just as the crews were settling in and awaiting the order, a scout approached the Marseille Night. Descoteaux climbed the ladder and looked out over the ironclad down out the teenager. What do you see?
Enemy cavalry, sir. Descoteaux smacked his hand on the ironclad to stifle the laughter wafting up from within. Send word to the Iberian Freedom. Theyll deal with it.
Ten minutes later, the sweet sound of shells exploding in the forest to the east eased the mind of the crews, especially the commanders. Seeing all of this ships was a hard job and all it took was one bullet to make the job not worth it anymore. Pushing the thought of what 16-inch shells do to man and horse, Lionel Descoteaux signaled the message to launch the attack.
The Marseille Night lurched forward, like a lumbering giant knocking down lesser trees in its wake. To the north, the direction they were going, smoke rose in columns into the blue skies. As the ironclads lurched, sometimes into fits, closer, Descoteaux could smell the destruction under the smoke. Crushed concrete, melted steel, burnt corpses. Descoteaux has seen what the machine guns of the Night could do to Luddites in the Saharan Desert, and again, he didnt want to dwell on the effects of a 16-inch shell on a person cowering in their basement.
The armored column entered the outskirts of the town. The buildings that escaped the shelling had cardboard or wood covering holes where glass windows would be. Debris of a destroyed store littered the street along with glass. The Night crushed both into powder underneath its treads. When Descoteaux saw a boy duck into an alley, he tapped a rhyme to signal to the gunners to stay sharp.
The ironclads pushed deeper into the town, and the destruction became more prominent. The town was a first generation Eruch colony in France, and the latest generation would only be in their teens at this time. However, a teenager with a rifle in his hand, a rifle he probably used for hunting game, could make a mistake that cost dozens of lives. And besides the wailing, besides the yelling, besides all of that, there was silence. The silence that falls a theater production between the ending of the production and beginning of the applause. The people here know that they are beaten, and Descoteaux took that as a good sign.
The Marseille Night parked in the town commons, forming a circle with the other ironclads. With a kill zone all around the makeshift camp, Descoteaux stood on an ironclad and shouted at the gathering townsfolk for whoever was in charge. A large, old man waddled ahead of the crowd. Im the mayor here.
Descoteaux remembered his orders. I am here to inform you that Freiburg now belongs to the Peoples Republic of Dalmace. I have been ordered to inform the leader of the town, in front of the towns people, that Freiburg will be an autonomous region with the Peoples Republic and as long as the taxes due to our government arrive, as well as certain other deals, Freiburg will be spared further destruction.
Further destruction? A bit late for that! The mayor snapped, waving his arm to signal everything from the cratered town commons to the ruined town meeting hall.
Descoteaux shrugged. Do you surrender your town?
The mayor sagged, I dont seem to have much of a choice. Someone find us a typewriter, and be quick about it!
The column moved smoothly once it crossed into Gaul, however. And now, the sun rises in the east to mark the first ground operation of the war in Europe. Descoteaux returned to his personal ironclad, the Marseille Night.
You think the navy left anything for us? Fiacre Lebeau, Lead Machine Gunner, muttered. Freiburg, the Eruch city in northwestern France, was by all accounts a small town. Some of the boys from the big cities like Chartres, Dalmace, Marseilles, and to a lesser extent, Avignon, joked that Freiburg could probably fit Freiburg in one of the larger warehouses in the naval district of Avignon.
If there was nothing left but dust, I would be happy Fiacre. Descoteaux shrugged. I say, let the navy level everything on the coasts and this war might be over by Christmas. Lebeau grinned and helped Descoteaux board the ironclad. Dalmacian Ironclads typically have a crew of ten, and if you werent the commander, you felt the heat all too well. Descoteaux left the ironclad unhatched, but he would break someones skull if they complained about the heat anyway. Crossing the Saharan Desert in a coal-powered box of steel was the exact opposite of what Descoteaux ever wanted to do again.
Inside the ironclad, Descoteaux checked things over. The engineers worked the engines, the driver drived, and the machine gunners killed everything with a pulse. The lack of a big gun in the vessel was a good thing, since the idea of shells inside the heated monstrosity was all it took to fill him with a sense of dread. That was what the battleships and artillery boys were for anyway.
Just as the crews were settling in and awaiting the order, a scout approached the Marseille Night. Descoteaux climbed the ladder and looked out over the ironclad down out the teenager. What do you see?
Enemy cavalry, sir. Descoteaux smacked his hand on the ironclad to stifle the laughter wafting up from within. Send word to the Iberian Freedom. Theyll deal with it.
Ten minutes later, the sweet sound of shells exploding in the forest to the east eased the mind of the crews, especially the commanders. Seeing all of this ships was a hard job and all it took was one bullet to make the job not worth it anymore. Pushing the thought of what 16-inch shells do to man and horse, Lionel Descoteaux signaled the message to launch the attack.
The Marseille Night lurched forward, like a lumbering giant knocking down lesser trees in its wake. To the north, the direction they were going, smoke rose in columns into the blue skies. As the ironclads lurched, sometimes into fits, closer, Descoteaux could smell the destruction under the smoke. Crushed concrete, melted steel, burnt corpses. Descoteaux has seen what the machine guns of the Night could do to Luddites in the Saharan Desert, and again, he didnt want to dwell on the effects of a 16-inch shell on a person cowering in their basement.
The armored column entered the outskirts of the town. The buildings that escaped the shelling had cardboard or wood covering holes where glass windows would be. Debris of a destroyed store littered the street along with glass. The Night crushed both into powder underneath its treads. When Descoteaux saw a boy duck into an alley, he tapped a rhyme to signal to the gunners to stay sharp.
The ironclads pushed deeper into the town, and the destruction became more prominent. The town was a first generation Eruch colony in France, and the latest generation would only be in their teens at this time. However, a teenager with a rifle in his hand, a rifle he probably used for hunting game, could make a mistake that cost dozens of lives. And besides the wailing, besides the yelling, besides all of that, there was silence. The silence that falls a theater production between the ending of the production and beginning of the applause. The people here know that they are beaten, and Descoteaux took that as a good sign.
The Marseille Night parked in the town commons, forming a circle with the other ironclads. With a kill zone all around the makeshift camp, Descoteaux stood on an ironclad and shouted at the gathering townsfolk for whoever was in charge. A large, old man waddled ahead of the crowd. Im the mayor here.
Descoteaux remembered his orders. I am here to inform you that Freiburg now belongs to the Peoples Republic of Dalmace. I have been ordered to inform the leader of the town, in front of the towns people, that Freiburg will be an autonomous region with the Peoples Republic and as long as the taxes due to our government arrive, as well as certain other deals, Freiburg will be spared further destruction.
Further destruction? A bit late for that! The mayor snapped, waving his arm to signal everything from the cratered town commons to the ruined town meeting hall.
Descoteaux shrugged. Do you surrender your town?
The mayor sagged, I dont seem to have much of a choice. Someone find us a typewriter, and be quick about it!
Spoiler:
Major Victory in France!
"Our brave land and naval sailors have acheived their first victories in France, taking the enemy stronghold of Freiburg and bringing the region one step closer to safety after the Eruchian declaration of war against Orlin. As Dalmace is loyal to our fellow workers in Orlin, and had signed a defensive pact, we were left no choice but to fight. But fight we will!
Special note goes to the PRDS Iberian Freedom for its role in sinking several passenger ships heading to Freiburg loaded with munitions and soldiers. Eruch used innocent passngers as human shields in the hopes that we wouldn't sink the ships.
We take no pride in the lost of innocent life, but it is up for the workers of the North American superpower to rise up and say "no more bloodshed for imperialism"!
Party Chairman Alderdice told the Dalmacian Tribune that any peace treaty ending the war must include provisions of a turnover of Eruch settlements in Europe to Orlin and Dalmace, reparations, and non-aggression clauses. So far, Eruch refuses to end the war against Orlin, and therefore we must refuse to end the war against Eruch."
"Our brave land and naval sailors have acheived their first victories in France, taking the enemy stronghold of Freiburg and bringing the region one step closer to safety after the Eruchian declaration of war against Orlin. As Dalmace is loyal to our fellow workers in Orlin, and had signed a defensive pact, we were left no choice but to fight. But fight we will!
Special note goes to the PRDS Iberian Freedom for its role in sinking several passenger ships heading to Freiburg loaded with munitions and soldiers. Eruch used innocent passngers as human shields in the hopes that we wouldn't sink the ships.
We take no pride in the lost of innocent life, but it is up for the workers of the North American superpower to rise up and say "no more bloodshed for imperialism"!
Party Chairman Alderdice told the Dalmacian Tribune that any peace treaty ending the war must include provisions of a turnover of Eruch settlements in Europe to Orlin and Dalmace, reparations, and non-aggression clauses. So far, Eruch refuses to end the war against Orlin, and therefore we must refuse to end the war against Eruch."