The Imperial Memoirs - Cancelled

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Our tale, our great adventure in the Second Europan War, started like all others on the 22nd of March, 1935.

In the barracks of the 100th Rifle Division, I listened to the radio, absentmindly turning the dial, before news brought us all up short: Imperial soldiers, in their hundreds of thousands, had crossed the border of the Atlantic Federation in one of the largest invasions of modern history. It was unsurprising, at least for us soldiers: From mobilisation on both sides that threatened to make any promise of peace moot, to the tense atmosphere we could feel that hung around the generals like a cloak, we knew that the continuation of peace in Europa - if it ever had been an option - would not last.

But I, together with all the soldiers of the 100th Rifle Division, the proud sons of daughters of Voslagia, could not participate in the initial fight against the Atlantic Federation. Apart from hoping and praying, our early involvement in the Second Europan War would be restricted to border patrols with the Ostende Commonwealth.

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It would be a lie to regard the Second Europan War as one fought directly for resources, as there is an often-overlooked political aspect connected to the war. An Imperial victory would have benefitted all of Europa, the unification of the industrial and chemical geniuses and traditions of the East Europan Imperial Alliance with the raw resources and rich lands of the Atlantic Federation: It would result in the creation of a great Europan confederation the world had never before seen, matched perhaps only with the great territories once controlled by the ancient Valkyur after the Darcsen Calamity, an end to the great wars and conflicts that tore the entire continent asunder.

In contrast, what would a victory for the Atlantic Federation entail? The abandonment of all what made the old nations great, the destruction of the great palaces and libraries, the end of Yggdism and her grand churches, the destruction of fidelity and responsible rulership, the end of our traditions? We could not permit the destruction of all what we held dear, the destruction of our great motherland, the lands of poets and thinkers, the home of the industrious and faithful.

The fact that over a hundred-thousand prisoners had been made during the first few weeks of the war did not escape our notice, nor did the vast columns of tanks and other armoured vehicles that had been captured not too far from the perfect staging points for a large-scale offensive.

Our duty to patrol the southern borders was, much to our relief, ended on the first of September: It was with much glee that the division made it's way to central Europa, where combat against the Federation was still ongoing with no breakthrough in sight.

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It took upwards of two weeks to arrive from the station in Movileni to the frontiers of the Empire. The city of Milden, located close to the front, would be the division's disembarkment point: The large train station, itself enough to hold over two thousand passengers, was crowded by the mass of soldiers that arrived. As such, as soon as one train arrived, the soldiers would quickly line up in march formation and exit the station, forming into their proper platoons and companies outside the cramped building. Certain elements of the Division had managed to acquire some cars and trucks, and quickly made their way to the front in comfort - unluckily for both myself and the rest of the platoon, there was no other motorized transport, and our feet the sole means of getting to the front. As such, the regiment to which the platoon and I were assigned slowly but surely made way for the frontline.

It took another week to arrive at our assigned sector at the front. The countryside through which me marched was, at first, beautiful, with gigantic haystacks in the fields and oak trees lining the streets, the cobblestone roads not uncomfortable to walk upon - at times we saw the most beautiful orchards, the late harvest much enjoyed by the platoon! But the cobblestone roads soon turned into mud, a combination of artillery shells, rapid use by armoured vehicles and sabotage having completely torn open the once well-maintained roads: We would soon form a well-deserved respect and hatred for the thick soil as it clung to your feet and trousers as thick and black as tar, almost impossible to remove with either your hands or tools. Rain, falling in great cloudbursts, caused even more of the muck to form, transforming the entire fields into seas of mud and mire!

Two days of marching were required before the regiment reached the river Aude, the large bridge which spanned it laying on the bottom of said river. Unable to proceed further due to the depth of the water, the entire Regiment was held up for an entire day until Engineers could arrive to erect a pontoon bridge! At night, we made the crossing. The regimental camp was quickly established on the other side of the Aude, and sleep was quick to come. More marching could wait until the next day.

* * * *

Ahead of us, more mud and muck greeted us. For days the skies over the frontline had been disgorging a steady stream of heavy rain, with Federation sabotage having destroyed much of the roads and paths that otherwise could have helped the platoon: With a heavy heart we prepared outselves to struggle with this enemy, the undefeatable quagmire and tar that had, twenty years before, halted many an assault in its tracks. This struggle was not one with honour, or even one which we wanted to talk about: It was frustrating and humiliating, the only reprive being the forests were the trees and their leaves had prevented much of the rain from flooding the ground. It was this way all along the front, a great strip of mud and mire stretching for hundreds of kilometres.

It was this that gave hope to the Atlantic Federation. Before, with a speed unmatched, finesse and strength overwhelming, the Imperial Army had shattered the Federation defenses: But the our trucks were now beaten, the tanks were beaten. The soldiers hiding in the forests heard the drivers, powerless, swear at their engines. Motorcycle drivers, unable to free their trapped little machines, wept with rage as the civilians watched with suspicious eyes. The all-consuming mud had stopped what Federation firepower could not: With supplies and reinforcements slow to arrive, if they arrived at all, the disheartened soldiers were quick to regain their courage, to reach for their rifles once more and join the fight, while the civilians were quick to begin to aid the growing number of partisans and guerrilla's.

Many of the young Voslagians among the 100th Rifle Division had dreamt of dazzling battles, of proud charges against blundering enemies, of medals and knighthoods, but it was here that they began to learn the true reality of war: It was a war against weariness, the war against the treacherous, sucking mire, of living conditions almost unbearable, of endless marches, of nights were the howling wind and pouring rain kept one awake for hours on end before finally exhaustion overwhelmed the body.

* * * *

Four days later, our regiment would finally reach the front. Exhausted, worn out, but we had arrived all the same: But the offensives had already ended, the logistical situation in such disarray that even the most aggressive generals relented. For another week, while waiting for the rest of the 100th Rifle Division to reach us, manual labour was the order of the day, our job to dig trenches and prepare defensive positions for the rest of the company while they were sent on a scouting operation: It would be almost midnight when the scouts returned, their armour and uniforms caked in mud and dirt, the weapons little more than dripping pieces of wood and iron, the sensitive insides no longer functioning.

They were quickly sent to the rear for new weapons, as no amount of cleaning could fully remove the muck and mire inside the weapons. We were highly amused, remembering their earlier taunts about the hard work we would have to do - but the amusement fell away as new orders filtered down the line, eventually reaching the Lieutenant, and by extension, me. It was time to do our duties, as the shield and sword of the Emperor.

[ ] A night-time raid
Federation forces have made a small defensive position on Hill 392, some two kilometers in front of the 100th Rifle Division. The Platoon is to make a night-time raid on this location, pushing out the defenders with the element of surprise, superior skill and equipment to compensate for being outnumbered two-to-one: Of course, 10.5cm artillery fire support is available to suppress the enemy heavy weapons.

Reward:
+300 Experience
+1 Requisition Point

[ ] The capture of Limegard
Bypassing Hill 392, high command wants the abandoned village of Limegard captured so that artillery observers can finer coordinates and assault troops can gather for a surprise attack on the enemy rear with a lower risk of detection. It is, however, extremely likely that the Federation has stationed a small garrison in Limegard to avoid this exact situation and will be on the lookout. As such, an assault early at night is the best option, with follow-up assault troops launching an assault on Hill 392 when the village is taken.

Reward:
+450 Experience
+3 Requisition Points
+10 Reputation with 100th Rifle Division commander, General-Leytenant Lukoporov

[ ] Hunting partisans
In the rear of the Imperial Common Army are dozens of forests, often large enough to hide entire platoons from scouts and armed reconnaissance: And the supply trains, having recently come under attack by partisans and guerrilla's, are believed to be coming from one in particular. The 100th Rifle Division, in particular Pyotir's platoon, is to clear it out. As the Platoon will be facing this enemy on their home turf, a LPS m.223 armoured car and a single Imperial Light Tank will be made available for communications and local fire support respectively.

Reward:
+500 Experience
+4 Requisition Points
+10 Reputation with 100th Rifle Division commander, General-Leytenant Lukoporov
+10 Reputation with the Imperial Common Army General Staff