The next morning, we continued on our way. This time, we passed through a real tank battlefield, with countless craters dotting the landscape. The ground there had been so horribly churned up it was almost unrecognizable. What had been a fertile, bright land just a few days ago was now a graveyard for Kuznetskozhyan and Altirustzkan armored vehicles. Innumerable tanks and armored cars, abandoned due to damage and fire, lay silent and still, alongside dismembered bodies.
Some had their turrets blown off into the air, others were flipped upside down, and some were even split in two. These war machines had been crushed, taking the lives of their crews. The tank crews mostly died because the ammunition compartment, located right next to the crew compartment, exploded. As a result, even a small spark was enough to make the outdated T-72 explode violently from the inside out.
The Marleyont war machines weren't in much better shape. Despite their powerful armor, they were sensitive to mud and rough terrain, and easily stalled. Moreover, Kuznetskozhyan had developed a new Sakari-2 armor-piercing round, capable of penetrating the thick armor. It was no surprise that the number of Marleyonts destroyed was as high as the T-72s.
"This is horrifying. How many people died here?" Mikhail exclaimed in shock at the sight of the endless number of armored vehicles left on the front line.
"I have the same question. What happened to them?" Ilaina asked.
I answered coldly, my hands on the steering wheel.
"That's what tank warfare is. Instead of staying in one place and shooting at each other, both sides charged forward to attack. The result is this, a real catastrophe. I heard nearly 200 tank crew members died, which is about 50 T-72s."
Mikhail murmured from the corner, saying:
"Then the losses are too great! 50 tanks is a huge number. I can't believe the leaders would do this to their own soldiers."
Ilaina sneered, joining the conversation.
"You still don't get it. Those leaders only care about the number of enemies they eliminate. If it's recorded in the report, our losses will be listed as 50% or even zero. That's how they ask for more subsidies and then pocket all the money."
As our convoy passed through the battlefield, we encountered another tank convoy. They had the same objective and mission as us, but it seemed they had completed their task at a heavy price. Their entire convoy was shot to pieces. The hulls of the trucks and tanks were riddled with countless bullet and shrapnel holes. Most of the drivers were dead, with a few severely wounded. The blood on their vehicles was splattered everywhere. The terrifying metallic smell hit my nose, making even an experienced soldier like me cautious.
"What unit are you guys from? Are you supplying ammo to Outpost 92?" a driver knocked on our car door.
I was quite surprised that someone knew my current mission in such detail, so I became curious.
"What do you mean? Is something wrong with Outpost 92?" I leaned out the window to get the full story.
"Yes. They're all dead. No one survived. Go back, before it's too late. A murderer killed them with poison gas and anti-aircraft guns. If you go there, there won't be a single thing left."
I was skeptical and ignored his words. I stepped on the gas, revving the engine and speeding forward. They must have been joking. Outpost 92 was the most fortified place, very difficult for the bandits to infiltrate. And it was strange that Outpost 92 hadn't called for help. If they were under a heavy attack, they would have made contact.
When we arrived, we were all stunned. The place was completely silent. There wasn't a single sound of a voice or a gunshot. And the worst thing was revealed. A weapons depot, instead of containing ammo and mortar shells, was full of decomposed and asphyxiated bodies. They were eaten away by maggots and worms over time. The smell of rot was overpowering.
The outpost seemed to have been heavily shelled. The evidence was that the military structures were all punctured and broken. So much time had passed that the bodies had decomposed and moss had grown all over the ruins and concrete fragments. Four hundred people were stationed here. Not a single one survived.
Ilaina, as if she was already used to this, simply slammed the door of the weapons depot, turned, and said to me.
"Klaus. Let's keep going. No one is alive here anymore..."
The four of us left, continuing to provide supplies to other outposts. But strangely, no matter where we went, they all met the same fate. If they weren't completely ravaged, everyone was dead. The number of dead could only be counted in the thousands. Even so, they would be forgotten. Because who would care about their sacrifice and dedication? The people on the front lines who were always willing to risk their lives to protect their country?
Ilaina, Mikhail, Augusta, and I distributed all the food and weapons to the few places that still had survivors. They could be counted on one hand. Returning with a sense of despair, I couldn't relax. Too much pressure had built up and made me into someone I couldn't recognize. A normal person was now no different from a soulless corpse.
I walked into my squad's shabby room. Lying down on the hard bed, I sighed and involuntarily grabbed my head, trying to get rid of all the fleeting thoughts in my mind. Killing, killing. They kept circling me. It was hard to forget. My hands were stained with all kinds of human blood. I killed people, just as society and war were killing me.
Not only that, the frequency of seeing dead bodies skyrocketed. Although I was no longer afraid and panicked like before, a strange feeling came over me every time I saw them. It wasn't revulsion, but it wasn't sadness either. Instead, it was a sense of pity and empathy. When I passed by the corpses of Kuznetskozhyan and Altirustzkan soldiers, I could clearly see their tranquility in death.
Perhaps they were like me, all tormented by war to the point of losing their minds. They didn't have to face the fear of death, which the rookie soldiers didn't want. On the contrary, for the veteran soldiers, death was a way to release all the stress of their military career.
I had wanted to commit suicide many times before. But I couldn't do it. I am someone who fears death, and I have too much to lose right now. Ilaina, Mikhail, Augusta... they still need me, don't they?
Suddenly, a news report was broadcast on parliamentary television, put there by hackers who had broken into the top-secret Altirustzkan education system. The content of the report stunned everyone because it was so different from what the history books said. It turned out that before 1897, Kuznetskozhyan and Altirustzkan didn't exist. Instead, there was the Altyrustal Empire, a superpower in every way. However, due to many failed governance policies, the country fell into crisis and decline. The nobles and the state suppressed the protests of the working class. The conflict grew more intense, eventually erupting into a civil war.
During that time, a leader named Moskwatov overthrew the imperial government, leading his army to eliminate all the seeds of dictatorship and exploitation. A nobleman with the alias Kritchenburg used his notorious mercenary organization, Hunterusk, and allied with the upper classes to fight against the revolutionary wave. After nearly a decade of division, the two nations of Altirustzkan and Kuznetskozhyan were formed. To mobilize the people, both sides erased history, distorting and fabricating it in every way with the goal of wiping out the enemy. Everyone who had memories of the old world was either brainwashed or killed to cover up the truth.
We almost couldn't believe our eyes. All this time, the people we had killed were our own compatriots. Finally, I understood. I, after all, was a son of a nation with a shared bloodline, not like before, a wandering soul who didn't know who or what he was fighting for. It's unbelievable that people, just because of conflict, would kill a glorious page in a country's history and twist it to pieces. All this time, hundreds of millions of people from both countries have been brainwashed and hypnotized, becoming puppets controlled by the ruling regime.
As expected, Altirustzkan is having an internal civil war within the government. The different factions are trying to consolidate their power in the occupied territories. All for the seats of Prime Minister and President in the Parliament. This is truly terrible. They don't care about the consequences it causes, only focused on achieving their goals and satisfying their bottomless greed. Talented people will be killed for the most ridiculous reasons, and then the corrupt officials will take power.
In the end, the working people will still be exploited to the bone. Moskwatov was a revolutionary. He understood this well and dedicated his life to solving it. However, his ideology was too unrealistic. The powerful class would never let go of those with low status. Kritchenburg, on the other hand, seemed more realistic. He accepted the sacrifice of a part of the population so the other part could live happily.
Although they had differences, they both had a common goal of protecting the lives of the people. But now? Their efforts for reform have been trampled by those who betray the interests of the nation. Maybe this world will need someone to save it.
Having survived a few months holding the Eastern front, we were unexpectedly transferred by our superiors to the neighboring allied nation, the Logravic Republic. Currently, they were facing half a million invading Kuznetskozhyan and Skirmish troops and had been almost completely defeated. They would soon become a colony. Faced with this situation, we, who thought we were finally escaping the war, were forced to operate here instead. At the same time, the two allied nations initiated "Operation Land Invader."
The plan was to mobilize most of Altirustzkan's elite military units to drive out Kuznetskozhyan's strongest main force. Our plan was to use the navy and marines to land on the Sikarlarov coast, occupy it, and use it as a foothold to seize key railway lines in the country. We would have 24/7 air support and artillery from warships. Our main mission was to mark targets and report them to military intelligence.
It sounded simple, but it was incredibly complex to execute. We constantly had to use attack aircraft, leading to breakdowns and a lack of logistical support. Intelligence was also vague, as information about the enemy's solid defensive barriers was transmitted to us. The daily struggle against rough seas and rainstorms caused many Altirustzkan soldiers to commit suicide out of despair. The frequency of planes being shot down was just as high.
Altirustzkan's warships of all types, as was their daily habit, continuously fired tens of thousands of tons of shells onto the shore, regardless of the risk to civilians. Cruise missiles were launched and fell. Attack aircraft took off non-stop, taking turns bombing the Skirmish camps. They slowly circled the beach, lowered their altitude, and rained missiles down on the land, drowning the enemy in a vast, endless sea of fire. The ground shook violently from the bombs. Oh, bombs, they truly were the weapons of the gods. They destroyed everything, leaving nothing but a pile of black ashes.
The day grew brighter. A little more light filtered through the fog covering the sea. But it was still cloudy, and then it began to rain. The tattered clouds slowly lowered. It became a drizzle. The wind carried a damp, empty chill towards us. The fog and rainwater made everything soggy and gray.
I stood on the railing of the landing craft Rockeries, silently observing the horrifying scene. Suddenly, the alarm sounded. It was more like the bell of death. It was the "order" for soldiers to disembark—a measure to alleviate the lack of medicine and food. And today, coincidentally, it was our turn. All the men who had gone before were gone forever. No one had come back alive.
I closed my eyes, sighed heavily, and went into my room. There, Ilaina, Mikhail, and Augusta were busy preparing equipment for the battle. They packed bandages, painkillers, flares, and even Kuznetskozhyan uniforms in case the plan to seize the beach failed. Mikhail saw me, quickly pulled me down, and helped me pack.
"Klaus, perfect timing. Give me a hand. I don't want to die here. We're going to land openly with a few thousand people on a beach full of mines and enemy machine guns. It sounds like a mass suicide. And is this gear too heavy?"
Augusta interjected from a corner.
"I think this is enough. And didn't we have attack aircraft for support? Plus artillery from the destroyers. With this much firepower, we can still survive, right, Ilaina?"
"I don't think so. On the contrary, it could cause friendly fire. I hope we can avoid engaging the enemy as much as possible. If it's four against a hundred, I give up. Where would we get the strength to fight them?"
A few minutes later, all four of us hurried down to the personal inflatable boat area. There, everyone was rushing to find their position and seat. They wore their uniforms with a lot of luggage, filling their backpacks along with their Mark-18 rifles with countless modern accessories. And here we were, thinking we were the ones carrying the most gear. On the contrary, we only carried just enough necessary equipment, because carrying too much would be troublesome and could even slow the boat down, leading to a miserable death.
"Companies! To your positions. We will depart in three minutes. Your mission is to attack and occupy the beach held by the Skirmish. After that, tanks and heavy firepower will arrive and take care of the rest. The Skirmish only has a few weak machine guns. Nothing can stop our momentum! Show those weak Altirustzkan people our strength!"
While busy with roll call, I accidentally witnessed the senior Logravic commanding officer non-stop bragging about their power and mocking us to his subordinates. He constantly spoke of the weakness of the Skirmish and Kuznetskozhyan, calling them backward barbarians who could be easily defeated. Although he spoke in the local dialect, I understood the gist of what he was saying due to my knowledge of the Logravic language.
I didn't pay any mind to this, because, in reality, not just Logravic but all nations in the world use this method. It's partly to brainwash and indoctrinate new recruits, and partly to blind them, making it easy to control and force them to kill. Just like the famous quote, "a lie told a thousand times becomes the truth." If you are brainwashed and indoctrinated for a long time, people will completely believe that subjective and flawed ideology like a machine.
And maybe, soon, those Logravic fools will pay the price for underestimating the enemy's true strength. I myself had experienced that moment. It was that arrogance that led to the deaths of my two comrades, Dimitri and Viktor...
After chatting with Mikhail and the new soldiers, we were ready to go, filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Artillery from the fleet was furiously firing at the mainland, growing more intense by the minute. The sounds of explosions thundered intermittently. Thousands of speedboats filled with people and supplies began to swarm out of the landing craft bay, invading the sea ahead. The operation had begun.
The entire vanguard, consisting of 10,000 Altirustzkan soldiers, deployed. With the support of the attack aircraft squadron, we easily crossed Kuznetskozhyan waters without any mishaps. The Bradleyer armored vehicles in the lead continuously fired at bunkers along the battlefield. The sky was filled with rumbling helicopters, launching rockets to wipe out most of the T-72 tanks stationed in the rear.
After a 15-minute journey, the Altirustzkan speedboats reached landing zone Xray. We and thousands of soldiers began to jump off the boats, scrambling to form companies, spreading out, and occupying the stronghold without facing any significant resistance from the enemy. After waiting for half an hour for orders, the 10,000 soldiers were told to seize the coastal town of Parkealy.
Our troops began to pour in from every road. We were careful to use CQB tactics to search every corner. Everything was destroyed, with shattered fragments and scattered ammunition everywhere. The scene, though somewhat hazy, was still filled with a murderous atmosphere and death that made even experienced soldiers like me wary. I was so tense I was shaking. This time, the enemy was much more dangerous. The death rate was rising.
Altirustzkan troops slowly entered each house in the town. But the only response was an eerie silence, combined with the blue-gray haze of the summer afternoon that made it suffocating. All we found were scattered magazines and corpses lying in the streets. Occasionally, we'd see a charred T-72 tank sitting proudly on the sidewalk.
We relaxed our guard a little and walked together towards Hill 672, where special forces paratroopers had been stationed since last night. There, I accidentally met Petrov, a comrade who, though for a short time, had been very meaningful to us. Our units got to know each other and discussed the upcoming attack plan.
Petrov was a lot older now. He had shaved his head and was more muscular than before, as well as more reserved, but he still maintained his inherent optimism and friendliness. Seeing me and my comrades return in one piece, Petrov smirked and teased Ilaina:
"Well! Looks like our married couple takes very good care of each other. You two aren't very wounded, are you? How romantic."
I walked over and shook hands with my best friend, continuing his joke.
"Thanks for the compliment. It's definitely better to have a wife than you bachelors. But hey, what's the situation here? I heard the Logravic troops are very proud of their achievements and combat records. Is that true?"
"That's just tabloid news. A lot of Logravic guys are dying here. More than a hundred die every day. It's even worse than the Altirustzkan rookie kids."
Petrov paused for a few seconds.
"About the combat plan. We were planning to coordinate with you to push deeper into the town of Quelenia, but unfortunately, more than half of our experienced paratroopers are dead. This counterattack will be very difficult for us. Marleyont tanks will go first to scout the way, with the infantry following behind. Once we capture the city, we'll have a foothold to get to stronghold 591."
Suddenly, a voice on the radio cut us off. Static mixed with the sound of bombs and the screams of soldiers on the front line. It seemed the counterattack plan had run into trouble.
"This is the 51st Logravic battalion. We are currently surrounded by enemy forces deep in the town of Uratisich. We need urgent reinforcement. The enemy has us cornered and we're low on supplies. Hurry! Argh!"
"Everyone! To your positions! Get on the armored vehicles! We don't have time! Klaus, Ilaina, let's go." Petrov urged everyone on and then climbed into an armored vehicle nearby.
The armored convoy roared out of the initial defensive position, heading straight for the battlefield in the town. There were clashes and skirmishes everywhere. Smoke and fire were flying everywhere. Logravic police and the Kuznetskozhyan army were in a bloody fight. The self-defense militia even used everything from tear gas to stun guns and Molotov cocktails. Casualties were increasing exponentially. But it was still too little. They were quickly met with return fire from the fully armed enemy with their AK-74 rifles and firepower from T-72 tanks.
The armored vehicle roared, rushing forward. The air inside the vehicle became suffocating and tense. Everyone was extremely flustered and panicked. Time seemed to stand still, giving way to an eternal night. Bullets, bricks, rocks, and Molotov cocktails flew at the vehicle. As expected, they didn't do any damage to the armor, but the sound of the bombs exploding outside was truly deafening.
Crossing the chaotic neighborhood, we met up with other rookie teams who were also there. Getting out of the vehicle, I grabbed my rifle and ordered the group to set up a defensive line as we had practiced. Ilaina instructed the female soldiers to be ready to provide support. The atmosphere at this moment was horrible. The hot air from the Molotov cocktails rose. The front was covered in smoke and darkness, with only the sounds of tank treads and gunshots.
"Ilaina, how many of us are there in total?"
"About 200 to 500 people."
"Oh, shit. The enemy has up to 2,000 troops and we only have this gear. And we can't even open fire yet. Listen, order our people to move into the houses along the street. We can't fight them off. Use everything you can to stop them."
I rushed out, quickly changing the position of the entire company into the main hall courtyard. Inside, we would have a little more cover to stay alive.
"Mikhail! Take everyone to the back. Do not fire until I give the order."
"Copy that. Let's go, guys. The rest is up to Petrov."
As soon as he finished, dozens of gunshots rang out. A few Altirustzkan soldiers from other units fell to the ground, dying instantly. Suddenly, Ilaina ran to me and pushed me to the ground. And then, an earth-shattering explosion hit, wiping out the entire squad on guard in an instant.
"Klaus! Are you okay?"
I opened my eyes and saw that I was in Ilaina's arms. It seemed she had saved me from that explosion, or I would have been a goner. I didn't think much of it. I grabbed Ilaina's hand and helped her retreat inside the building. I aimed at the heads of the enemies outside and fired relentlessly.
"209th Company! Open fire at will!"
We rained fire on the enemy. The two sides fought for every inch of ground. But we were completely outmatched in both numbers and firepower. I ran back towards the company, returning fire while directing the combat formation. I slammed the door shut, didn't even have time to breathe, and just fought without a break. Petrov picked up his RPK and fired a burst of rounds, taking down countless enemies.
In the back, Ilaina and Augusta, along with the female soldiers, struggled to bandage the wounded and closely support the defense.
"Five o'clock, throw a grenade! Mikhail, reload. It's Ursichi's turn now. Come on, we'll get through this." I desperately tried to encourage the group.
"There are too many! We can't hold on!"
"Cover me, I'm out of ammo!"
Using different tactics, we held the enemy at bay for several hours. But reinforcements still hadn't arrived. The entire company fiercely fought off the enemy's attacks. They only had knives, and very few were equipped with rifles. The ground was covered in bullet casings, and more were piling up. No matter how much ammo you have, it will run out.
"Grenade! You bastards!"
Mikhail stood up and threw an incendiary grenade forward, burning an entire group of soldiers. Suddenly, he fell to the ground, screaming loudly while clutching his stomach.
"Motherfucker! I got hit! It hurts!"
Ilaina rushed to the front line, brought Mikhail back, and gave specific instructions to the supply team.
"Augusta! You take Mikhail back. I'll take care of the defense."
With that, Ilaina took out her Dragunov sniper rifle. She fired continuously at the residential buildings. Every shot from Ilaina was incredibly accurate. She quickly wiped out a few Skirmish squads in just a few seconds. From the corner, Mikhail and a few other young soldiers looked on in awe, praising her non-stop.
"You're an amazing shot, hitting every time. No wonder our boss loves you so much. But why did Ilaina accept his confession anyway?"
To lighten the tense atmosphere, I also added a few teasing jokes.
"Can you guys read my mind? And who spread that rumor?"
Ilaina smiled.
"The part about me accepting the confession is true. But the reason why is something only Klaus and I know. You'll understand when you grow up."
"Boss Klaus, tell us so us bachelors can have some experience flirting with girls."
"Forget it. You want me to get my neck twisted by her?"
The smiles that seemed to have disappeared had now returned. Ilaina and I had been through what could be considered the most horrible things in the world. Ilaina and I were supposed to graduate from Kuznetskozhyan University together, become a couple, and then find stable jobs. We would occasionally get together with friends to have fun and cause a little trouble. But now, those were just distant dreams. We would never get that peaceful life back.
While we were all telling silly stories, reinforcements finally arrived. But the way they reinforced was the opposite of what we expected. A BMP drove too fast and slammed into a group of Kuznetskozhyan troops, crushing them into a bloody mess of flesh and bone. A bit brutal, right?
Soldiers from the 345th and 267th companies quickly took care of the remaining enemies who were dying. After a while, we joined them, working together to put down this terrible counterattack. In the streets, the lights had been off for a long time. We could only identify objects ahead with our eyes or normal flashlights. In addition, there were countless corpses and scattered objects, with fires blazing. This was arguably the biggest battle since the war entered a stagnant phase.
The number of dead on both sides had exceeded 30,000. Kuznetskozhyan tanks didn't hesitate to fire on large residential buildings. Civilians fled to the suburbs, causing a humanitarian and economic crisis. They were hit by bullets and fell in pools of blood. From a prosperous city, this place quickly became a wasteland.
As the smoke slowly dissipated over the rubble, the bombed-out town stood there, gloomy and chilling. The entire neighborhood was black with dust, pockmarked with thousands of bomb craters and dotted with twisted columns from the collapsed buildings. All the apartment complexes had disappeared, and in the center of the capital, the entire area was wiped out. In that empty land, what used to be boulevards and streets were now rugged trails, winding through mountains of rubble. Everywhere, there were buildings without roofs or windows, their destroyed interiors gaping at the sky.
While attacking an enemy camp on the outskirts of another town, we encountered the notorious sniper Snow Hanya. Just then, a bullet flew from nowhere, hitting Ilaina in the shoulder and making her fall to the ground. Before I could react, another one grazed my neck. I knelt down in a panic, trying to suppress the pain to shield Ilaina.
"It hurts!" Ilaina gritted her teeth and cried out.
Immediately after, countless objects around us were hit by bullets and shattered. The gunshots rang out steadily as if they had been prepared beforehand. And then, Snow Hanya appeared. In the blink of an eye, an entire company of our troops was killed in our shock.
After that, I saw all the arrogant Logravic soldiers from before. They had died in a gruesome way. All of them had been shot in the brain and the back of the neck. They died in agony. We could do nothing but charge and fire aimlessly, becoming targets for that assassin to kill.
"Klaus! You're bleeding!"
Ilaina suddenly shouted. She ran over and used a bandage to dress my wound. Mikhail, who was struggling to dodge stray bullets in the corner, chimed in.
"Oh my God! Look at the way they take care of each other! I'm so jealous!"
Suddenly, a loud explosion echoed, and dust and sand flew everywhere. Sandbags were thrown into the air, and the entire sky erupted in a blinding light. This was followed by a series of explosions like a gun held to your ear. Our troops were suddenly broken up and ran in disarray. Desperate cries for help rang out, and smoke flew everywhere. Blood suddenly covered the ground, and corpses lay everywhere. It turned out to be Kuznetskozhyan mortar fire, used to stop our advance.
In a daze, I noticed Hanya trying to escape. I turned to the side and saw that Ilaina had passed out from the sound of the mortars. I held her, angrily looking at him.
"Wait for me a moment... Ilaina."
I rushed out of my cover and chased after him. He had indeed located me. He continuously used threatening tactics to try to lead me into a trap, like a predatory beast stalking its prey.
But with my combat experience, I quickly realized the weakness in his fighting style. That sniper was very reckless with noise. Even the sound of my breath would make him agitated. He had violated the rules of survival in a combat environment. Now, I had to do something to take full advantage of my position.
I picked up an AK and furiously fired randomly, causing the guy to panic and become disoriented. Taking advantage of that time, I carefully maneuvered through the piles of bricks, getting closer and closer to him. He just kept firing. He was trying to gauge my movements after the recent barrage.
After thinking for a moment, I came up with a bold idea. I pulled a grenade and threw it forward. An explosion resonated. I immediately flew towards him. I lunged forward and punched him repeatedly in the face. Before the enemy could react, I grabbed a brick and smashed it into the sniper. He staggered, and I shoved him to the floor. In that moment, I had completely become someone else. All my resentment went to my head.
With all my strength, I delivered fatal blows to his face. My fists gradually ruined his face, deforming and disfiguring it. In my frenzy, I even used my bare hands to gouge out his eyes. I couldn't keep my composure. My rationality disappeared, leaving only pure, twisted malice. I took a knife and sliced a line across the poor soldier's chest, shoved a primed grenade inside, and threw him towards the others.
BOOM!!!!!!!
The room exploded. Blood flowed like a flood, staining everything red. Organs, liver, intestines, heart, and lungs lay scattered on the floor. I stood up, trembling, and spat on the ground while my body was soaked in blood.
It wasn't until the next night that we were finally able to end this horrifying battle.