—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Wjin
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Wheeeeee—
A sharp wind blew. I looked at the brightly shining moon beyond the open cockpit of the airship. A full moon. Considering that the Normandy landings also took place on a full moon night, the weather wasn’t bad.
‘Complete suppression of the production facility before dawn.’
I reviewed the operation in my mind. Hearts of Iron was a ‘strategy and tactics’ game, but it didn’t delve deeply into the tactical aspects. For example, you could decide where to deploy a battalion and how to spread them out, but you couldn’t control individual soldiers to occupy buildings or anything like that.
It was the same in reality. Even a regimental commander, let alone a general, who managed several battalions, couldn’t individually control every company under their command, let alone smaller units like platoons.
Therefore, everything that happened in the Hearts of Iron game wasn’t depicted like an RTS such as StarCraft, but rather like Civilization or Crusader Kings. A bunch of units occupying a city and seizing territory.
The problem was that I wasn’t the player looking at everything from above, but a pawn, the tip of the player’s spear. In other words, I had to view the entire operation from a tactical rather than a strategic perspective.
The Lymansk Armory, a Soviet facility I had seen in the game. Due to its rugged mountainous terrain and the high level of guerrilla activity, it wasn’t a major facility for technology or equipment development.
Unless they were conducting secret research that would draw international condemnation if discovered. I closed my eyes, picturing the topographical map, and planned the operation.
*’Under the cover of a moonlit night, the 1st and 3rd Platoons will parachute down first.’ *
The 1st and 3rd Platoons, as the vanguard, would eliminate the guards at the north gate. Meanwhile, the 4th Platoon would advance west, secure the armory, and then link up with the 2nd Platoon.
‘Engagements will occur, but they will be quickly suppressed. The north gate will be opened, and the mobile battalion waiting nearby will enter.’
‘Soldiers from the Guard Company Headquarters, alerted by the gunshots, will awaken, but they will be neutralized by a pincer attack from the infiltrated 1st and 3rd Platoons.’
‘After confirming the progress of the 2nd and 3rd Companies’ operations, we will leave securing the gate and area control to the mobile battalion and infiltrate the underground facility together. We will retrieve the Pearl of Premonition and secure other intelligence assets.’
The simulation in my head ended in an instant.
They probably didn’t even have proper semi-automatic rifles, let alone automatic rifles like the AK. Close-Quarters Combat (CQB) would be much easier than in modern times. We would be able to subdue the barracks, armory, guard posts, and checkpoints without much difficulty.
Now, the difficulty of the operation depended solely on how complex the underground facility was.
‘It all comes down to luck.’
I opened my eyes. The smell of blood and gunpowder already tickled my nose. It was a world of difference from modern raids, which were conducted with the help of military satellites, advanced surveillance equipment, and 100% utilization of secured intelligence assets.
We were practically blind, without accurate information on the enemy’s size, the facility’s structure, or even the real-time situation, but the enemy was in the same boat.
They wouldn’t expect us to drop from the sky. They wouldn’t have anti-aircraft guns to shoot down airships, and even if they were attacked, there wouldn’t be separate communication lines to quickly contact nearby units.
They’d be relying on carrier pigeons, messengers, or at best, a blinking ‘light signal device.’ That signal device hadn’t even been supplied to frontline units yet, so there was no chance it would be installed in a remote armory.
‘What a mess. Those people must have had a real headache.’
Both offensively and defensively, they were employing primitive tactics that were absurd from a modern perspective. I felt a bit sorry for them. After this operation, I needed to suggest some things to the technology research department, including communication equipment.
I grimaced and turned to look at Roxanna.
“Roxanna, are you staying here?”
“Yes, we still have some time until we arrive. About an hour, right?”
A true airship enthusiast. Roxanna Ellim had been waiting in the cockpit ever since we boarded.
“Yes, about an hour until arrival.”
The pilot, with his bushy beard, replied with a cheerful smile, and Roxanna nodded in agreement.
“Right. You have nothing else to do, Captain, so please take a rest! I’ll finish all the preparations before we arrive!”
It was as if she had fallen in love with the airship. I wondered if she would suddenly request a transfer to the air force. I hadn’t spent as much time with Sergeant Roxanna Ellim as I had with other squad members, but I still felt a little sad at the thought.
Well, even if that happened, it wouldn’t be a bad thing for Ukraine. It would still be a while before an ‘air force’ was established worldwide. This single airship we were on was far from enough to form an air force.
If she trained hard and continued to improve, Roxanna Ellim could become the pioneer of the Ukrainian Army Air Force. Her talent was immense, regardless of her frail health. I looked at Roxanna, who was still bustling around the cockpit with bright eyes, and pondered.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Rick Hanson of the 1st Company, 1st Platoon, wet his parched lips. The second real battle. Last time, it was just bandits, but this time, it was actual Soviet soldiers. It was impossible not to be nervous.
Creak.
He tightened his rifle sling and checked his ammunition.
‘I have to keep my wits about me. Last time, I was just lucky.’
It was fortunate that it had hit his buttocks. If it had hit his heart, head, or even an artery, he would have died instantly. There was no guarantee that such luck would follow him this time. Rick Hanson had checked his equipment dozens of times since boarding the airship.
As he was counting the magazines in his pouch one last time…
“Everyone, stand up! Prepare for jump!!”
The Captain, clad in a jump suit, strode down the corridor and shouted. His voice jolted everyone awake.
“Prepare for jump!”
“Check your equipment from the back, in order! Execute!”
“Number 30, Egil Sakorzy, all clear!”
“Number 29, Eugene Lanz, all clear!”
From number 30 to number 6, Rick Hanson. The company members shouted at the top of their lungs. Was this really happening? Rick’s hand holding the rifle started trembling.
He wasn’t afraid of jumping. He felt at ease while flying in the sky. All he had to do was look down at the ground. But the most terrifying part began after landing. That’s when the line between life and death was drawn.
“We’re the vanguard. Focus on my commands.”
Platoon Leader Claude Lane spoke. As if by magic, his trembling heart calmed down.
Claude Lane. Enoch Levandal.
Looking at those two, his nervousness subsided. He couldn’t explain why, but what was there to explain about something inexplicable?
The closest analogy would be looking at his father and mother. Even though Enoch Levandal was around the same age as Rick Hanson. They were people who made him feel safe just by being around.
“Rick, is it the other buttock’s turn this time?”
“Gotta make it symmetrical, left and right!”
“You bastards… you’re all talk.”
The silly jokes from his colleagues also helped ease the tension. Rick chuckled, letting out a string of curses.
A commander he could trust and follow. Unit members who had become like family.
Rick had plenty of reasons to jump out of the sky.
“Let’s all meet back at the battalion safely, alright?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Also, avoid using Red and Yellow magic if possible. All mages in each squad, keep that in mind.”
“Understood, sir.”
The final precautions had been given. Enoch Levandal slowly scanned the faces of his company members, one by one. And finally, he gave the order.
“1st Company, jump!!”
At that moment, Rick Hanson threw himself into the vast sky. He shouldered his rifle and adjusted his posture in mid-air. In his moonlit vision, he opened his eyes wide and looked down at the ground.
The ground, which had been far away, rapidly approached as he descended, but he didn’t feel fear. He trusted his platoon leader and deputy platoon leader. An unwavering belief that they would guide him safely to the ground before he became a pancake.
As if in response to that trust, a strange floating sensation enveloped Rick Hanson right before he hit the ground. He landed softly, like a feather.
Click.
He pulled the lever, chambering a round. Rick Hanson, having finished reloading, unconsciously looked up at the sky. His comrades, silhouetted against the full moon, filled the sky.
The devils who had crossed the mountains were painting the Empire’s night.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
