The Rights of Man: Part 1

There is nothing more thrilling than leading the charge across no man’s land, once again I was waving my sword forwards in the air determined to stay far ahead ,so I would not be trampled to death if I tripped on a land-mine or became snagged by barb-wire by the thousands of soldiers running behind. Mortar and artillery rounds burst into the ground around us as we made the through the desolated forest of splintered trees and sharpened stakes that surrounded us.

 

I looked up from the carnage and saw in the distant skies two fleets of airships battling, large deck-guns flashed as they spat out their lethal payload while nimble fighter-planes buzzed around the huge vessels. We were in a struggle for our identity, for the rights of men, and those who lead the forces against us were merciless.

 

On my left was my second-in-command Major Kerns, a war-grizzled son-of-a-bitch who seemed to save my ass in every tight spot I could find myself in, from fighting off ambushers to punching the army chef for giving me lumpy soup. To my left was the battalion Standard bearer, Bellar Cosky, surely the bravest or stupidest man I had ever known. Armed with only the battalion flag and a flask of whiskey he followed me anywhere in the heat of battle, waving that flag like no other.

 

I could not see the enemy in their trenches through the fog and smoke, but I knew they were there with their big fuzzy hats that I envied so much. But whenever I tried to loot a hat off a dead soldier it would either be covered in mud, blood, or Major Kerns would catch me and give me a stern look.

 

But no matter how apathetic of the politics, the battle-cry of the combined armies of the Sothelian Confederation, always filled my very being with pride and courage. That feeling was aptly quashed when the gunfire intensified and a siren began to wail from the enemy trenches.

 

Bullets whistled overhead as perhaps a hundred men died per ten paces towards the trenches either from mines, mortars, or machine guns. This was a mere estimate on my part as I was already at the mouth of the trench, I kept my head down as the officers of the enemy blasted their voices over the speakers, “Crush the dogs! Not one step back! Death to any who oppose the rule of Anatreus! Glory to those who die in the service of the most exalted Dominus!”

 

My cadre and I dived into the dugout first and I swung my curved officers sword into the nearest Northelian face I could reach. The sword, although ceremonial in most respects, was still very sharp and worked wonderfully to deflect rifles and bayonets. The blaring speakers continued even as I made short work of a pair of machine gunners with a quick stab to the kidney and a swipe after their necks.

 

I searched through the melee for the officer with the radio and found him quickly enough through the crowd of confused soldiers. He was a wiry chap with a black coat and officers cap with an unfashionable mustache, far too bushy for a gentlemen in my humble opinion. Now I can understand how one could forget to trim one’s mustache on the fields of battle, but there would be no excuse upon the battlefields of the formal balls and banquets that one would surely be invited to.

 

If he and I attended the same gathering, I would have had him thrown out a window onto the lawns of the palatial estate, or at the very least pulled him aside and slap him forcefully before helping myself to more delicious shellfish! The officer dropped his radio once he caught sight of me and unsheathed out his own blade smirking all the while, unbeknownst to him I had received the highest marks in the academy for swordsmanship.

 

I sidestepped his first lunge and swatted him on the rump with the flat of my sword. It was obvious I had infuriated him and he came at me again this time swinging the blade across to my belly. His swings were easy to dodge, his thrusts found wanting and his overall sportsmanship proved foul and after a moment I grew tired of his flailing attacks and blocked his blade with mine in mid-flight.

 

Sparks flew as we met and I pressed the attack, with one arm behind my back I forced him further back and soon his back was to the wall of the trench. I could see the fear in his face as his feeble defense crumbled when his sword dropped to the ground. He grabbed a trench-spade from a nearby crate, but he was not my first concern at the moment. While fighting I had somehow lost my hat, and it bothered me greatly to have a naked-head on the field of glory.

 

I slashed and stabbed any soldier that came at me during the search, I looked nearly everywhere and could not find it, a heard a whistle for attention behind me and I turned to find the bastard officer twirling my cap on his index finger. He gave a triumphant smile but before he could do anything nefarious with it I shot him in the heart with my pistol.

 

He stood there with a curious face, perhaps his life was flashing before his eyes. It mattered very little though and I approached him, snatched my hat back from the half-dead bastard and left him there until he finally slumped to the ground like a sack full of produce.

 

It took only a minute or so for the enemy with us to realize that we had far outnumbered them and soon after the remaining few ran anywhere they could to avoid our steel. Alas their efforts were futile as my men gunned them down from behind. My men let out a triumphant cry as the last few enemies ran out of sight through the fog and I sat down for a moment on a crate.

 

Major Kerns slapped his hand on my shoulder as I cleaned off the blood from my sword with an enemy jacket, “Good work, if I may say so sir” He said.

 

“Yes and fun was had by all I suppose” I replied.

 

“Only five more trenches to go now” Kerns gave a tired grimace, I looked up to him and winked.

 

“Come now old chap” I sprung to my feet, “There’s no sport in a peaceful surrender!”

 

**As the combined armies of the confederation, roughly numbered around four-hundred thousand soldiers, battled their way towards their capital, allied Karosian air-fleets had wrestled air-superiority from the Dominion air-force. After weeks of heavy skirmishing and two massive battles, the Dominion fleet was left heavily outgunned and outnumbered against the Karosians and Grand-Marshal Dubries was forced to retreat across the Sothelian/Northelian channel and back into Nothelian airspace.

 

Colonel Alhans’ journal surprisingly mentions very little of the next trench battles but the siege they are leading up to is very well documented by Alhans and many other, shall we say more reliable, sources. The retaking of Gardsel is the most arguably recognized turning point in the war in the south and the anniversary is celebrated to this day by the Confederation.

 

The walls of Gardsel were large, true enough, but the Dominion garrison had not been resupplied for the past three weeks, and it is reported that many soldiers deserted at the news of Grand-Marshal Dubries’ sound defeats. But the commander of the garrison, General Marks Faleun, kept most of his army in line with the help of his executioner firing-squads and strict rations. Faleun was a veteran of the unity war in Northelia, the war in which Anatreus rose to power shortly after, and in his career had to staved off attackers before, either through attrition or clever tactics.**

 

The fog lifted itself from the scorched battlefields as noon approached and for the first time that day we saw our objective, and the sight gave me hope. Gardsel, the largest city in all of the confederation, had been the capital of the Sotheli before the Dominion of Anatreus invaded four months ago. Now the Northelians were using her as a air-fleet resupply base and stronghold.

 

We were eager to retake her and see our banners fly on her walls once more, but therein lied the largest challenge, the southern edge of the city was nestled between the mountains and in order for us to actually enter the city we would have to assault the outer walls. In the late feudal ages the rulers of the city built four walls around the city, each wall taller than the one before it, the city had never been conquered until the Northelians bypassed the walls with their air-fleets and bombarded it into submission.

 

There was a brief respite from the fighting and my company of riflemen and I had taken to the trenches for shelter from the enemy mortars. “What are you thinking colonel?” Kerns asked me as I gazed on the horizon, “You think the brass has a plan to get through those walls?”

 

I pondered for a moment and gave a laugh, “Of course they don’t”.

 

Kerns gave me a smirk with a raised eyebrow, “Guess they would have never thought about attacking our own capital”. He began to say something else but my mind was elsewhere as my eyes followed plumes of black smoke downwards to the war-torn ground. Burning carcases of airships lay not terribly far away and the air was thick with the smell of burning fuels.

 

Kerns noticed my attention to the wreckage and spoke up after a moment, “Some of Dubries’ ships, no doubt” He muttered, “Too bad the bastard got away”.

 

I turned to him and smiled, “Come now” I said, “there’s no fun in licking all of the rascals in one go”. I placed my cap, which smelled heavily of some god-awful cologne used by that officer I killed earlier, back on my head and told my officers to gather the company for a briefing.

 

All farm boys, brave, young, stupid farm boys. But despite their backgrounds I had pitted them through a hard training and those who stuck around turned out to be competent soldiers, or so I prayed each time I stood in front of them as they fired their guns.

 

The 42nd Galousse Rifles assembled around me in the confines of another trench-bunker, as the first we went to turned out to be the latrines. And while this one smelled much nicer it didn’t have the same charm the first did, but I paid no heed when they looked up to me expectantly. Their faces were that of dirty war-hardened cherubs, if there ever was such a thing. The soldiers, all one-hundred and twenty, sat on the dirt floor.

 

Novels are terribly misleading, in that the leaders in them can come-up with motivating and inspiring speeches on the verge of battle. Maybe it’s just me, but whenever I began a speech I would sooner or later wind up talking about completely unrelated.

 

“Well…” my mind drew blank, two years of officer-speech classes went down in flames and crashed horribly into a mountain side and then the pilots eventually had to eat each other in order to survive the frigid winds, yet again, as I struggled to come up with at least a semi-inspiriting monologue.

 

“What the good colonel is trying to say here” Kerns spoke up and once again saved my ass, “You’re all southern lads, born and raised in the verdant fields and valleys and that war has rarely reached your doorstep. But up here, war is a constant threat ever since a madman has gained control over Northelia. And now war is at hand, and boy is it ever. The coasts are overrun and once peaceful beaches are littered with bodies and wreckage. These men we call our enemy are not evil, far from it they are good patriotic men such as ourselves. But fate has thrown us against each other in this terrible war, we have been beaten back, bloodied to say the least. But now it is our turn, we took their punches and now they race across the channel to avoid ours”.

 

There was a pause in Kern and he looked outside towards the company standard, “Do you boys know what that means?” he pointed at it, “That colored piece of cloth is more than what it seems, I have seen grown men cry at the sight of a standard burning, and lord knows any of those men would gladly gives their lives to defend it”.

 

Kerns turned back to the enthralled lads, “And maybe one day you’ll die for this one. I don’t expect you to understand now, but in time as this war drags on you’ll see that flag and all you will think about are the years before the war, and you’ll long for those days to return. But they have left us, perhaps in a different reality this war never started and you all were back home tending to the livestock or fields, but this is our reality, and I be damned if I let my country topple over to some power-hungry bastard. We’re on the cusp of victory, but it can be stolen away from us easily if we give up now, I know we’re all done with the trenches and mortars and all that rot, but this time it’ll be different, this time we know what we’re fighting for. Fighting for freedom, for justice and most importantly peace. We are in a struggle for our own identity, our rights as men. When we’re before those walls, they will be so tall they will block out the sun, but always remember we are brothers, comrades in arms, even soldiers!”

 

“That is the soldiers life, to suffer and be miserable, for the brave few to do horrible acts so that the many may go on through their lives not having to do so. But when you are against the walls and explosions rain down around you know that you are never alone. And even if you die there will be men to remember you and your deeds. A valiant life unnoticed is no less valiant than that of the heroes of history. This is our time, this is your time to write history. Think of all the great Sothelians, Weinhart Feugern, Jeager Ven Kessal, even King Ghardhamal himself, they all faced unimaginable horrors but yet they pressed on. And when these days are long passed, and you are all old and your children’s children ask you about the great wars you can say proudly that you were there, and that you did your duty not only to country but to a greater good”.

 

After the speech the men were uplifted and roared with courage, or something like it. And I smiled underneath my hand as I looked to Kerns, who was still embracing the soldiers by the time the Generals messenger arrived.