It's cold, my boots are soaked through and if I survive this assault, I'll have trench-foot for sure. This fight should be quick, command says there are eight tanks maximum, but I'm not sure. This new weaponry doesn't have a repair manual, and I think I broke the foregrip.
excerpt of a Novisian's diary.
The night was cold, freezing cold.
Men huddled together in bunkers trying to stay warm. The waves crashed on the beach, sending icy spray up against the concrete fortifications. In one bunker, a private writes in his diary.
It's cold, wet, and miserable here. I'm not sure why they didn't insulate the barracks, but they won't hear the end of it when colds start sweeping the garrison. - Alyn, 12th of the 5th, 1522
If it wasn’t for the coffee, he’d have frozen to death by now
Alyn was sure of that. He had a creeping suspicion something was going to happen tonight, but command kept calling him paranoid, then it happened; A shot rang out, echoes rang out as the sound of machineguns screeched and filled the air. He dropped his pen and ran to his embrasure, there were hundreds, no, thousands of them, all dashing up the beach, he saw a man’s leg get severed off by a machineguns spray. It was terrifying.
We land in three minutes; men are praying while others are smoking what will probably be the last cigarette of their life. I hope I'll survive; I'd like to see my daughter again. - Jinn Arch, 2258 local time, 12/5/1522
It all happened in an instant
The ramp dropped, and the metal hull of the landing craft began to scream as 12.7 rounds pierced through the iron coffin’s walls, next to him the corporal went down, blood oozing from a hole on his neck, slumping to the ground gasping for his last breath. In front of him two men suddenly stopped mid-stride, falling limp to the ground as one of the helmets flew off, a hole straight through. He ducked to the ground as another round punched into the pilot's bay.
A whistle blew, he saw them, men dressed in white and grey, Alyn clutched his rifle and squeezed, sending an eight-millimetre round towards the unlucky soldier he aimed at; the lifeless corpse of a man fell to the ground. Alyn aimed at the next one, squeeze, collapse, move to the next one, machine-like he worked until his magazine ran dry. He ducked down to reload, and a hail of bullets cracked the concrete where he was just standing moments before.
Jinn knew he couldn’t leave the landing craft
But he also knew he’d die if he stayed inside it, so he crawled, crawled over his dead brothers-in-arms, their broken bodies showing only the final emotion on their faces, as they were shot down, if they still had a face that is. Bullets whizzed overhead making him duck into a crater, only to open his eyes to a dead Novisian soldier, their face a mess of blood, brain matter and bullet fragments. He felt sick to the stomach, he pushed on as the bullets moved away, he aimed his gun up to one of the bunkers, and pulled the trigger, bullets flew out of the barrel as the magazine emptied itself into whoever was standing there.
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