Chapter 12: Operation Hightide (Underway)
Present Day, Landing Site Alpha, Pvt. Sanders of the Valean Army
The crack of gunfire resounded throughout the battlefield, with both sides seemingly not moving. The Vale army was stuck; no two ways about it. If Sanders could hear what was being said about the battle to the civilians back home, he would call the news anchors the biggest pieces of shit to have ever graced Remnant. And the VNA weren't rolling over them, content with letting the blood of Vale's soldiers stain the sand. Though if they wanted to, they easily could.
It had been so long since the start of Operation Sandstorm, and to Sanders all it achieved was catastrophic losses. He heard that not only had the invasion failed, but that the Huntsmen sent deep into Vacuo were considered casualties, although if that meant dead or captured he didn't know. What he did know was that high command fucked up.
The VNA wasn't anything like the god damn White Fang. These weren't merely fanatics that had gotten ahold of weapons and were waging civil war; they were highly trained and well equipped. They had those armored vehicles pounding them when they felt the need to remind the Valean Army not to advance, aircraft bombing and strafing them routinely, and don't mention the god damn artillery that rarely if ever ceased. And to make matters worse the VNA soldiers were dedicated; they didn't falter or show fear, instead they rose up and fought them on equal terms.
But thankfully for the Valean Army, it seemed that someone high up decided to convince the Council to quit the battle and reorganize the army, as they had gotten orders to begin preparing an evacuation from this kill zone. But the orders were odd to Sanders, at least until someone explained to him what was going on.
First, instead of bringing in a ton of ships to quickly evac everyone, the ships came in under the cover of dark as usual, and they were offloading empty crates and taking loaded crates of equipment on them. They also took the injured and units that were understrength with them. It seemed like it was a usual delivery of fresh equipment. But he was told that was the point; they didn't want to tip the enemy about the evacuation, so everything was being done to keep it a secret.
Next, while things like radios, entrenching equipment, and non-replaceable medical equipment were removed, ammo wasn't, and even stranger was that the men were getting a shit ton of grenades when the ships came in at night. This combined with the next thing that confused Sanders, as it spit in the face of his training; they weren't opening shooting the enemy whenever they got the chance. Instead, they were keeping from firing their weapons unless the enemy openly advance.
But this was also supposed to happen, according to the Sergeant that Sanders talked to. The idea was that the enemy, curious about the relative silence from the Valean army lines, would come investigate, and then the Vale Army would rain fire and grenades on them, thus imprinting on the VNA that silence meant a trap. The idea was that hopefully it would discourage the VNA commanders from rushing their lines before everyone got evacuated.
Sanders sighed; he just wanted off the beach at this point. How he survived up to this point was a fucking miracle; he had been through three units now, with all of his comrades dying around him due to the VNA. He heard some soldiers from other units mutter something underneath their breath when he walked past, and only the unit's members would talk with him, albeit hesitantly. The only one that currently didn't show an issue with him was his current sergeant.
He was cleaning his VMR-45 when he saw his sergeant begin running towards him, with the others following suit. He quickly got his rifle ready for combat and followed the sergeant, keeping low to avoid the fire of any potential snipers. As he followed, he heard the sergeant's orders.
"We got word that the VNA are moving to point A13 of our trench line. We are going in to assist the units there with repelling the assault. I want you to prepare your bayonets and keep your grenades handy. We still lack a means to deal with their armored vehicles, but that section is full of wet sand, so we don't expect any of them to show up. That said, expect them to provide fire support from up the beach, so stick to cover."
"Yes sir!" the other men responded. Sanders nodded and trudged behind the others, not out of fear but because the trenches were narrow and short; he had to run hunched over with his rifle in a parade position just to get to the point. They were about a quarter of the way away when the cries came out.
"GAS ATTACK!" a soldier further up the trench shouted. Sanders cursed as he grabbed the only protection for such an attack; a pair of welding goggles and a scarf that was hastily doused in some chemical to defuse whatever was being launched against them. It was beyond crude and barely did a thing, but at least it was better than nothing, like the first week into the assault.
Sanders wondered where the gas was coming from before he saw the contrails of rockets from atop the cliff, where numerous off-roading buggies fitted with rocket launchers were firing upon the soldiers.
"Damn rocket buggies, launching their attacks and withdrawing behind their AA guns before our bullheads can take care of 'em," muttered a private through his scarf. Sanders agreed but was forced down as a shower of dirt was kicked up by a near miss by a rocket.
Getting up, Sanders proceeded to rush forward, and soon he could see the fighting at Point A13. It was unlike anything he had seen until Operation Sandstorm. A bunch of the VNA rebels were charging forward towards their lines, bottles of flammable fuel alit being thrown at the defenders, while the blasted armored vehicles fired upon them with impunity from high on top the cliffs.
"Give 'em hell boys! Keep firing until your barrels run red hot!" shouted a Sergeant of some sort, waving his men into positions to defend the trenches. He noticed his reinforcements, quickly waving towards them. "You lot, get to the right branch and defend the pillbox; we can't have it getting overrun!"
Sanders followed, ducking as bullets whizzed over the top of the trenches. He really wanted to get off the beach sooner rather than later. His momentary lapse nearly costed him as a VNA rebel jumped on top of him, having finished throwing a flaming bottle into the trench's branch.
Sanders tried to get his rifle in position so he can thrust his bayonet into the rebel, but the rebel knew what he was trying and fighting it. Sanders knew that it wouldn't be long before one decided to break the status que when his eyes glimpsed something; the rebel, unlike most, had some shorten version of the rifles the VNA was using slung insecurely. Sanders risked it; letting go of his rifle with his right hand, he reached for the rebel's short rifle, and moved the barrel into the rebel's side.
Pulling the trigger, Sanders was shocked as he wasn't expecting so much recoil and such a high rate of fire from such a small rifle. The rifle's bullets tore into the man and splashed Sanders with a lot of blood. The rebel slumped, dead in the trenches with Sanders pushing him off.
The private took the rebel's rifle and began looting the body for anything to help him defend the trenches. He got ahold of several magazines, some of them incendiary bottles, and finally some needles filled with a red liquid inside. Thinking they were some first aid item, Sanders took the needles along with the other items and proceeded to the pillbox.
Inside it was an absolute mess; there were only a few defenders firing out of the slits that the pillbox had, and there was countless wounded just lying inside, with a single medic trying to handle the wounded. Sanders was about to head to a firing slit when the medic grabbed him.
"I need your help!" the medic shouted. "I got too many wounded and not enough medicine to go around; have you anything on you?!"
Sanders frowned before showing the medic the strange needles filled with a red liquid.
"I found this on a VNA rebel that tried to kill me, but I haven't the foggiest on what they do," Sanders said, ducking instinctively as a shell bounced off the pillbox's shell.
"Well, whatever it is, must've been important, as lately I've seen the needles cropping up on the scavenger runs in no-man lands."
Sanders nodded, knowing about the army's efforts to scavenge anything they could from the VNA rebels' corpses. They had a pretty stash of guns, ammo, and other weird things that the rebels saw fit to equip themselves with, but the needles were apparently a recent addition.
"Any idea what they do?" Sanders asked. "Could it help our guys out?" The medic shook his head.
"Not a fucking clue," the medic cursed. "But right now I real-" Whatever the medic was going to say was cut off as a rocket impacted the pillbox, causing a portion to collapse inwards, killing the defenders at the firing slits and giving the enemy an easy access. Sanders saw this and glanced at the rebels that were charging towards him.
Raising the rebel's rifle to his shoulder, Sanders began firing quickly, fighting to control the rifle's recoil. His first burst started on target, but quickly jumped off target. It still killed a rebel, but most of his shots were off target. He switched targets, pulling the rifle tighter into his shoulder and tensing his left arm to counter the recoil by dragging the barrel downwards, he lined up on a rebel with one of those rocket launchers that they had used frequently.
This time the burst was a lot more accurate; still a bitch to control but less bullets went off target, causing the rebel who had his finger on the trigger of his launcher to fall backwards and squeeze on the trigger. This resulted in a number of rebels getting killed; not from an explosion, but due to the back blast kicking up plenty of loose debris into the air and stabbing into them.
Sanders barely had time to react to the sight as a bullet went through his left arm. He expected an explosion of pain, but there wasn't pain, not immediately. Instead, he had a sense that he should feel pain, but wasn't. It took a few moments before an intense searing pain burned at the gunshot wound, and the sensation of someone trying to push on his flesh yet not cutting through hit him.
He fell to the ground, cursing as he tried to get control of himself instead of the pain, but the pain only grew in intensity. Sanders knew it would only be moments before more rebels came through, so he needed to do something, regardless of how crazy it was.
The medic, who was trying to remove rubble from a wounded private, barely had time to react as he heard an enraged battle cry emanate from within the broken pillbox. Turning to the source, he saw the private who came in with the needles and one of the rebel's rifle standing up and raise the rifle towards the opening one handed.
The medic was about to object, as he could see the private was badly injured, his left arm barely hanging on, when the impossible happened. The private began firing with fury in his eyes at the incoming rebels, ignoring the incoming bullets as they landed around him, with a couple hitting him in his legs.
Staggered to the ground, the private, instead of screaming in pain, pulled out several of the incendiary bottles that the rebels had used on them, throwing them with deadly grace onto the incoming rebels. The medic fought the urge to retch as he saw the oily contents spill out before igniting, the smell of burning human flesh quickly overtaking all other smells. The medic saw the rebels, who hadn't shown fear before, take a step back in fear.
When the private ran out of the bottles, he turned and grabbed a belt-fed machine gun that was lying inside the pillbox, having been collected during a night raid, and began firing indiscriminately onto the rebels. The rebels, who were so used to having the advantage, were forced to ground to avoid the berserking private's hail of gunfire.
The medic rushed out of cover, as something clearly wasn't right with the private. Someone does not simply ignore that many gunshots and continue on fighting. At this rate, the private was likely to bleed out and die. The medic could hear fellow soldiers that were coming into the pillbox shout at him to stay in cover, but he ignored them.
He ducked as a bullet whizzed pass him, and could see that the private was running low on ammo, as well looking around for another weapon. The medic knew that he needed to stop the private from getting ahold of another weapon, as who knew how long the private would be in his state. He winced; he knew what he would have to do, but that didn't mean he would enjoy it.
Grabbing a VMR-45, the medic leveled the butt of the rifle towards the private, and quickly butted the private in the back of the head. This did the job, as the private became disorientated seemed to snap out of his haze of rage. The medic dragged him back to into the pillbox, which was now seeing the rebels off, and indeed, the battle seemed to be petering off along this section of trenches.
Now back in 'relative' safety of the pillbox, the medic began assessing the private. 3 gunshots wounds in the right arm (amputation would be needed), 2 in the left leg (several months of rehabilitation), 1 in the right leg (grazing shot, some stiches and bandages should fix the majority of the damage), and finally a patch of 2nd degree burn on left arm (likely a result of getting some of the flammable material onto him, would require antibiotic cream mixed with a numbing agent). He sighed as he grabbed red medical clip and stuck it onto the private's uniform, signaling to those in the rear that the Private needed to get off the beaches ASAP.
The medic wondered what caused the private to go berserk when he saw that one of the needles that the private had on him was now empty. The medic grimaced; he would need to report this to his superiors, just in case there was long term ramifications.
Vacuo Nationalist Army's Capital HQ, Ankara, Vacuo
Qahira was walking down the halls of the GLA's (or to the outside world the VNA's) Capital Headquarters, smirking as he saw the fanatics that he had stirred up running about to their assigned tasks. Some were fortifying the buildings in the capital even further, adding barbed wires, reinforcing walls in the event of a possible air assault, and defensive weapon emplacements to deter and repel attacks. Roads were being modified to have barricades built into them, so that an invasion would be slowed down.
Others were helping establish more secure communications channels. Things like underground optic wires were being laid that extended from the capital to the outlying cities, villages, and outposts, with an added layer of radio towers for information that wasn't secretive. Most of this was handled by contractors, who used the prisoners of 'loyalist' Vacou to do the hard-menial labor. This came with the benefit that any prisoner who died was one less mouth and one less loyalist to feed and take care of.
Then there was the side that Qahira couldn't give two shits of; establishing a functioning government. He was satisfied so long as he had a war to wage, people to kill, terror to instill, but unfortunately for him, the GLA did need to have a functioning body to continue an eternal crusade. He knew this from being in the GLA since the Global War on Terror, as both General Mohmar Deathstrike and then General Anwar Sulaymann focused on organizing the GLA into a cohesive force, Anwar more than Mohmar.
He knew that Imani was sent by Anwar to keep an eye on him, and so when he began creating the GLA cells in Vacuo, Imani insisted that they, once they had taken control of the kingdom, turn it into a nation that the GLA could launch attacks from. He agreed, only because that meant more fighters and better equipment for him in the long run, but Qahira wanted to wage war, not deal with internal politics. He supposed his old rival was the same way; oh how he wished for that young Colonel to be fighting here, but alas, he was not even in the armed forces anymore, not after he crippled the bastard and took his beloved's life right in front of his eyes.
He smiled; the sheer distraught in that colonel's blue eyes, the agony in that ear-piercing scream, and he feeble attempts to clutch what little remained of his little fraulien, it was pure ecstasy to Qahira, who had watch from a distance as his trap had been sprung. That was a glorious day, but alas it was the last bit of fun he had with his rival. Truly, how he wished to face a worthy opponent, but alas, the fools of Remnant were so naïve when it came to the art of war.
Shaking his head of the past glory days, Qahira walked into what had been the Council of Vacou Chamber, which was different from the Council, the body that governed each kingdom akin to the head of state. The Council of Vacou was akin to the kingdom's congress, filled with corrupt politicians taking backroom deals to their own and their benefactors' benefits. They ran the day to day affair, whereas the Council ran inter-kingdom relations. But after the violent coup d'état, the chamber had been refitted for the leadership of the GLA and those that the leadership called for.
There was himself as the Grand Marshall of all GLA forces, Imani as the head of the GLA's intelligence and counter-intelligence operations, Sean Nubs, a mercenary that was now in charge of recruiting foreign members into the GLA for future insurrections, Al Sharpton, a bandit leader whose achievements were feared by the loyalist forces becoming the leader of the Nationalist Vacou Rangers, and finally Commodore Hawk, the commander of the GLA air force.
Then there were the more civil positions filled out, but right now the meeting was between the military leaders. So, in addition to the military leaders, there were various commanders that had been sent back from the front to this meeting to relay important information about progress on the front, and a few non-combat personnel that were here to discuss the logistics of the military operations. Qahira took his seat and took a quick headcount, making sure everyone that was supposed to be here was here, and began the meeting.
"So, I see that we've all gathered, so I want a situation report on all of our forces and the progress of our enemies," Qahira stated. "Imani, have those huntsmen given any relevant information up yet?"
The veteran GLA soldier shook his head.
"They have very little information that was deemed relevant, and given how they were sent in, I doubt that an actual plan was made by the fools in the other kingdoms," Imani said. "The only thing we managed was that they were supposed to be the vanguard element, keeping us distracted until the main bulk of the joint armies arrived."
Qahira noted the shaking of heads among the various commanders; the Hunters and Huntresses that they once feared so much proved no match for a organized group of soldiers that were using weapons that could ignore their precious auras, thus leading to the GLA commanders to look disdainfully at their old foes. He had to admit, his own experience with a huntsmen was a far cry from what he had been told; the huntsmen, after being deprived of their weapon floundered like a fish on dry land, and his interrogation showed how easy they were to break. Perhaps he had a particularly weak-willed one, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth; if the huntsmen were the best that could be mustered, then he wouldn't have much of a war on his hands.
"Very well, now what about the landing sites?" Qahira inquired to his various commanders.
"We got them pinned on their landing sites, but they haven't been trying to push out as of late," Al Sharpton noted. "My men inform me that about the only time they leave their trenches is to scavenge supplies in no man's land."
Qahira raised an eyebrow; this wasn't what he expected of the fools. Afterall, he had been informed by a mole he had in the Valean Army that the Valean Army is trying to bring in more reinforcements. This mole wasn't someone he dismissed as being a double agent; he had the man by the balls, while offering him quite the carrot. No, something else must be going on to cause the Valean Army not to continue out of their trenches.
"What else has been seen on the landing sites?"
Soon, Qahira began to hear the various odd things that were being experienced. The Valean Army not shooting until the GLA were almost on top of their trenches, their resource ships coming at night, and the increasingly resistant deluge of bullets coming from the trenches when the Valean Army did open fire. To Qahira it was oddly familiar, yet where did he hear of this being used? It was missing a piece. It was then he heard the last bit of information he needed.
"One of my infiltrating units grabbed a crate and noted how light it was, and so brought it back with them along with a code book with the Valean and Atlesian army radio frequencies, only to find the damn thing filled with hay," a minor GLA commander said. "I know that the Atlesian drones don't need food or medical supplies, yet why ship a crate filled with hay?"
Qahira growled; now he knew why this sounded so damned familiar; it was WW2 and WW1 evacuation techniques that the British used. He knew of them due to a YouTube channel he watched in his youth that covered military deception. Yet that brought a interesting question; how would any tactician on Remnant know of such tactics?
Remnant's last big war, their so-called Great War, was a piss poor and pathetic excuse of a war. Fought mostly with melee weapons, bows, and very early firearms, the Great War was mostly bloody due to the issue of the Grimm preventing the Kingdoms from resorting to more extreme measures to achieve victory. Lands overran with Grimm prevented certain manuevurs, the Grimm pulled manpower and resources from the warfront, and no one resorted to terror warfare due to the fear of attracting Grimm en masse to the battlefield.
All told, the casualties were only around two hundred thousand. Quite tame in comparison to Earth's Great War of 40 million, and positively a drop in the bucket compared to the Second World War's staggering 70 to 85 million. Even the Global War on Terror saw a more massive death toll of around 9 million, of which nearly fifty thousand of which occurred in the opening stage with the nuclear detonation at the PRC's 70th anniversary parade in Beijing.
So, Qahira was now wondering who had not only come up with the idea of evacuating the Valean and Atlesian Army using tactics for amphibious retreats that came from Earth, but where they were. If they were some young officer with 'novel' ideas that Remnant hadn't used, Qahira was confident it would be easily solved. But if it was someone from Earth, well, perhaps this war wouldn't be a sorry and boring affair.
"Men, we are being deceived," Qahira told the officers in the room, getting many looks of confusion, with the exception of Imani, who looked like he suspected something but didn't know why. "Our enemies are trying to withdrawl their forces, under the deception of supplying their forces. If they are allowed to retreat anymore now, then it will be a major success for them, as while they have suffered heavy losses, it is not unrecoverable. They could regroup and develop tactics and weapons suited to fighting us, which must not come to pass."
"What should we do then?' asked Sharpton. "My rangers may be good for long range missions and taking out infantry forces, but they aren't equipped to take out entrenched forces."
"Also, our chemical warehouses are far inland, so resupplying our various units with chemical agents is going to take precious times," one GLA officer commented.
"We could use the BM-21 rocket launchers and bombard their ships at see, but that means getting them close to the Valean trenches."
A argument broke out amongst the junior GLA officers, all trying to propose various solutions to the problem. Qahira looked on, before noticing a smirk on Commodore Hawk.
"Hawk, I assume you have a solution?"
"Indeed," the commodore said. "We have finished training the 3rd strike wing, and while I argue about the nature of the aircraft, the tactics used should be able to destroy the ships with minimal casualties."
Qahira smiled; time to bring the terror that he was known for to the fray.
"Very good Commodore Hawk; have the 3rd strike wing rebase at the forward air base along with the necessary munitions to make such a strike useful. To the officers of the ground forces, inform your units to begin applying pressure to the landing sites; the time to let them bleed is over. We are killing them in a blow so painful that generations yet unborn will cry out in anguish! Show them the full might and fury of the GLA! And if it comes down to it…"
Qahira pressed a button and a hologram of a reinforced site with 9 missiles resting on launch rails. On the missiles where the clear symbols of chemical munitions and explosive ordnance.
"We will rain judgement from the heavens."
Access Granted Commander
Searching for 'GLA Air Assets Dossiers'
Found 5 dossiers, please select a dossier.
All dossiers selected, please wait as all dossiers are opened.
First Dossier-Vulture Bomber
Description: The MiG-15 and MiG-17 were among the most produced combat aircraft in the world since WWII, with over 20,000 air-frames of both types produced by the USSR, China, Poland, and Czechoslovakia. Highly advanced for their time, the MiG-15 and MiG-17 were commonly exported and saw heavy use in the First Korean and Vietnam wars. Some variants stayed in use up until the 2010s with North Korea, Pakistan, and some African nations. With a large number of aircraft scattered around the world it was inevitable that the GLA would manage to acquire some for their own air force. Though immeasurably obsolete as a fighter aircraft, the Vulture (as the GLA refers to it) is employed as a tactical bomber by the terrorist organization. It is almost always seen with 250kg high-explosive bombs and is usually reserved for larger scale combat operations.
Second Dossier-Hyena Interceptor
Description: The Hyena Interceptor is modelled after the Su-17 'Fitter' which was exported to Soviet client states in Africa and the Middle East, replacing an outdated airframe that tried to fill the role of the newer Hyena and the Vulture into one airframe. The new Interceptor carries a default armament of two externally mounted 30mm autocannons and UB-32 rocket pods.
Rumors that the GLA may soon replace the Su-17 with the recently retired SU-25 "Grach" are unfounded, as the Russians have been very careful to keep close tabs in their remaining stock of Frogfoots and ensure they do not get into the hands of the terrorists.
Third Dossier-Plague Duster
Description: An archaic Bell 47 helicopter converted into a light gunship and chemical weapons dispersal platform. Despite the age of the airframes, these choppers prove to be effective in harsh environments due to their mechanical simplicity and ease of maintenance. Known as the infamous Plague Dusters, the GLA has outfitted their helicopters with anti-armor rockets, Stinger missiles as well as sprayer nozzles taken from crop duster aircraft. The sprayer nozzles are capable of dispersing weaponized Anthrax spores or other biological or chemical weaponry. As a result, the Plague Duster has become feared throughout Africa as a terror weapon designed to massacre entire populaces opposed to the GLA. Due to the helicopters' non-existent armor, the pilots are known to chew khat in order increase their reflexes and banish fear before going on missions.
Fourth Dossier-Hook Gunship
Description: Reports have indicated that the GLA have modified a number of their Mi-6 Hook airframes to serve as transport gunships similar in function to the famous Mi-24 Hind. A variety of anti-tank missiles and rockets of former Soviet and Chinese origin have been mounted on pylons under the helicopter's wings and auto cannons are mounted on each side of the fuselage near the fore. The jury-rigged conversion has a significant negative effect on the helicopter's maneuverability and acceleration, but its firepower is very considerable and it retains a degree of transport capability. Extreme caution is advised when encountering any of these modified helicopters.
Fifth Dossier: Stuka Bomber
Description: The oldest airframe within the GLA's air force, the Ju-87 Stuka Dive Bomber is none the less feared among those caught unprepared. A nimble and controllable aircraft, the Stuka is known for its ear-piercing scream as it dives, caused by air rushing through sirens installed into the landing wheels. While it wasn't capable of carrying as much, through tinkering that Qahira did during his time in the GLA, the newly revived warbird can carry a much heavier payload and is more heavily armored.
The Stuka of Qahira's cell carries 4x 500kg AP or HE bombs, or a pair of Mk30-2 autocannons capable of kinetic piercers with anti-tank missile launchers added to the airframe for even more tank killing potential. But the most interesting change was the removal of the rear gunner and the installation of various electronic jammers, made to confuse enemy radar to return a false negative of the Stuka's position, allowing the Stuka to get close without long range AA systems to fire upon them until it is far too late. The Stuka is feared by the enemy's of the GLA, because they herald the arrival of the Warhound.
~Dossiers provided by Colonel Jaune Arc
Signing off Commander
Author's Note: Jesus, this chapter was a turd to write. Mainly because of how I needed to cover ground between the last chapter and the next one in a way that made sense. But enough complaining, let's get to the reviews;
-SilverTails555: Jaune wouldn't be one to take command from an airship like Ironwood does; he would get stuck in on the ground and lead from the front. But thanks for the suggestion.
-Guest: I try not to use to much exposition, but sometimes that is the better way, especially when you want to stay on point. Having a scene where Jaune learned about the evacuations from Galliopli and Dunkirk might've been better then what I did, and its something for future thought or potentially a rewrite, yet I wanted to get the chapter out and not get side-tracked.
-Jane Rolfe Jalandoni: Thanks for the praise and here's the chapter. Hope you enjoy it.
-Dinosaur imperial Soldier: Awesome username btw, but to answer your question, all factions from ROTR will make an appearance, sooner or later. As to the white Fang and Salem, the White Fang reactions will actually be shown soonish (probably in an arc or two). Salem meanwhile will initially enjoy the added negative emotions that the GLA's prescence has on Remnant, yet she will soon grow to hate the ROTR's faction's military presence and the effect it has on Remnant's society.
-Blazblade: Oh trust me, the White Fang vs GLA fight will be shown, but it won't be a massacre due to where it will be taking place. As for units, I have added some units of my own making (the Stuka being my idea for a GLA terror bomber), and I may come up with more in the future. Also, about aerial aircraft carriers, why? Don't get me wrong, airships are awesome, and having the ability to launch fighters from them would provide a level of tactical flexibility, but in that case, why not instead use the space to load up on more missiles and cannons? At the most, an aerial carrier would use drones like the Arsenal Bird in Ace Combat 7, but I would envision that an airship would prioritize long range bombardment in the form of missile banks and cannons. I have heard of Endwar, but I won't be using units from it mainly because the units in ROTR fill similar roles or perform better.
That said, doctrinal units will appear in the story, but of course due to ROTR not being in 2.0, we don't know what the list entails, we can only make some guesses based on what was projected.
-EnriksD8: Glad to hear you are enjoying the story, thanks for the compliment. And we do have a little bit of Qahira's PoV in this chapter.
-ChronoHyperion: I have tried CnC untitled, but I didn't like it as much as ROTR. I thank you for the suggestion though.
37: Haha, Worry not, the Patton of the Story will be coming.
Anyway, not much to say, except the next chapter will conclude Operation Hightide. Until next time, please read, review, follow and favorite, and I'll catch you next time.