Smoke and soot engulf an infantry platoon of the Spanish Coalition that is manning the roadblock behind the crumbling walls of Murcia. Taking a deep breath of the smog-filled air, a Spanish Inquisitor with the rank of Lieutenant turns to the rcenary Captain by his side. Both sides share a knowing look behind the safety of the sandbags before rechecking their respective weapons.
"Last chance to lead your n away or you would be hard-pressed to disengage later." The Lieutenant said while racking the bolt of his Kar98k before guiding it back ho.
Smirking, the rcenary Captain responds with a thick Erusea accent. "Mate, it's too late to convince us to retreat. The hazard pay is well worth it." The Captain then jerks his head back to the West. "Besides, we'll be damned by whatever God you're serving if we let those civilians get caught by those bastards." The Captain then slams the pan magazine of his Lewis machine gun down.
As the Captain is prepping his machine gun atop the sandbags, the Lieutenant turns around to him. "On behalf of all the Spanish souls you would help save, I offer you our thanks."
"Don't sweat it mate, it's the right thing to do at the end of the day. Only God knows what would happen to those retreating civies if they are apprehended."
"If they're affiliated with the Inquisition in any way, a fate worse than death... Look, there are our guys." The Lieutenant gestured to the retreating Inquisitors that just rounded a corner.
The Captain nods before addressing his n. "Look alive, lads! The party's about to begin!" A chorus of affirmation is returned.
The platoon then welcos the retreating group in their line after a quick security check. A Sergeant soon cos by the sandbags wall, crouching down to the Lieutenant's level while resting his Kar98k by the side. "Damn Sardegnians! They pulled out their heavy artillery and then fired directly at us, collapsing the walls. More than half of my echelon didn't make it and our Captain is dead." The Sergeant then points at his battered echelon recuperating below the sandbags wall. "The rest are either injured or lost their weapons in the confusion. I have taken command of them for now but I would rather have them sent to the backline."
"You should do that, we are more than enough to hold the Sardegnians back for a while." The Lieutenant gave the Sergeant a nod, prompting the man to shout a few orders at the echelon down below. Surprisingly, the Sergeant stay while his forr affiliation retreated from the frontline.
Giving the Sergeant a look, the rcenary Captain asks. "You sure you wanna stay mate? I think you've earned your paycheck already."
Instead of answering, the Sergeant displaces his coat, showing a hastily bandaged abdon, the field dressing is dyed a rusty red. Seeing that both the Lieutenant and Captain understand just why this Sergeant chose to stay. "Yeah, that reason is as good as any. Welco to the stay-behind group, pick a place you're comfortable with, and then we wait."
The Sergeant nods, limping to a corner of the wall. Gradually, the distant sound of battle at the wall dies down, giving way to a constant chanical rumble. "It seems like they are bringing along a tank or two." The Lieutenant comnted.
"We'll be ready for them." The Captain said before gesturing to the anti-tank mbers of the platoon. "Rember, it's good if we can knock one out permanently but it's better if we can block the roads using their own tanks. So make your shots count!"
The platoon is ard with two handheld anti-tank weapons, a Belkan-made Grenade Buster, and a Boys AT rifle. More than enough to punch through the lightly armored Sardegnian tanks if they can get a good shot off.
"Listen! Here they co!" The Lieutenant warned before readjusting his steel helt. "Only fire when you get a clear shot! We want to drag this battle out for as long as possible!"
Rather than answering, platoon mbers brace their weapons on the sandbags. As the rumbling of tank treads draws closer and closer, the Lieutenant performs a last-minute check of the detonation device below the wall, seeing two lines running along the street and into the buildings by their side. That's their last resort when they can't hold the line.
With that out of the way, the Lieutenant returns his attention to the wide street in front of him, just in ti to see the first batch of brown uniforms rounding the corner. Taking the chance when the Sardegnians are still surprised to see a well-fortified roadblock, the Lieutenant gives the word. "Rifles, engage!"
A deadly chorus, made of lead and powder, imdiately greets the Sardegnians that are out in the open, cutting down eight of them in the process. The rest either dive for cover, which only consists of a few artillery holes and rubles, or retreat to bring up reinforcent. The Lieutenant and the riflen of the platoon precisely pick off those that dare to poke their heads out while waiting for the main force of the enemy to arrive. During the initial engagent, being flanked by the enemy using abandoned buildings is a valid concern to have, yet, those sa buildings are booby-trapped to Hell, courtesy of the Shadow Company.
After a couple of minutes of exchanging rifles fire, another batch of enemy infantry shows up, more nurous than the last this ti. Without waiting for further words, the machine gunners of the platoon start suppressing. The Captain, in particular, is having a blast with the 97-round magazine of his Lewis gun, cutting almost a dozen n just by himself.
For the Sardegnians, the sudden raise in fire density from the Spanish side is a shock. The officer in charge of this small force has severely underestimated the firepower the Spanish still retain. Unable to advance without risking himself being sawed in half, the Sardegnian commander orders a textbook flanking maneuver by using the buildings. A part of Sardegnian soldiers then breaks open doors and windows, jumping inside the buildings near them. As soon as they gain entry, however, the first series of explosions rang out across the buildings, claiming the lives of two dozen infantries. As expected, implenting Shadow Company's advice by mining every conceivable location, has paid off.
Outraged by the fact that almost half of his force now lay very dead, the Sardegnian commander requests support from a nearby tank platoon. With this, he hopes to even out the odds and gives the Spanish a run for their money.
Ducking down to reload after his Lewis runs dry, thereby dodging a bullet that skimps past his helt, the Captain jestingly said to his platoon. "That went much better than I expected it!"
Firing off another shot, downing himself another Sardegnian, the Lieutenant replies while chambering another round. "What? You expect them to bring out their Crusaders right off the bat?"
Shrugging, the Captain answers while charging his Lewis. "Dying on the battlefield is one thing. Dying on a battlefield for a great cause is a good thing. Dying because a beautiful Crusader kills you on a battlefield for a great cause is perfect!" He then returns to place his Lewis in a firing position, the sound of lead being fired and spent casings clattering on the floor are, strangely enough, relaxing.
Rolling his eyes while crouching down to put a new clip in, the Lieutenant quips back. "Face it! The only reason you stay back is just to see them in action, even if it ans dying to them!"
"Aren't you the sa-! Incoming!" The Captain was about to retort when he scread, ducking down as a burst of machine gun swept across the length of the sandbags wall. Though the Captain's warning was imdiate and thus saved the lives of the Lieutenant and Sergeant, other mbers of the platoon weren't lucky enough. Around two dead and three incapacitated right of the bat. "Fuck! Those Triple-threes are tearing us to shred here!"
L3/35, a tankette produced by Ansaldo in 1935 and ard with a pair of 8mm machine guns, they have shown up in pairs at last. "AT teams! Let them co closer!" Regardless of the fact that they're being suppressed this ti, the Lieutenant still want the enemy tanks to get closer for a better chance at disabling them.
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