[Pomazanniki] Bring Some Formality With You

[gelb]

For the complete lack of any other term to describe exactly what he was feeling at the moment, the former Roskanan General Wilhelm figured it was apt to use an old grunt's term.

He was fucking pissed.

Several months spent not just holding Grinvel forces at bay, but also balancing redefining the way wars were fought, at least five separate R&D efforts into Roskanan tank design philosophy, redistributing national infrastructure and production, and somehow managing to score somewhat major victories against what once was a far superior force just to be rewarded with a backline position in a classroom somewhere. It was almost as if some terribly over the top Hazing effort had simply never ended for him, or someone had forgotten to send the memo that he wasnt actually going to be retrained and would be returned to the front immediately.

"You have to be fucking kidding me." He remembered saying to the young officer they had sent to relieve him. He had damn near put a bullet through the young boy's head for even suggesting he leave the front, his damn front, on General Anderson's orders. Especially after the bastard had all but vanished from command some months ago.

"Sir, with all due respect, this was passed down from the top." The young man had replied, exuding all the faux confidence of a freshly promoted noncombatant. "You cannot refuse this order."

And so he didn't. With no other choice than to leave his post, the General packed his things and clambered up into the back of a repurposed supply truck bound for one of few training facilities left completely unscathed by the war so that he could be taught exactly how he was supposed to let Grinvel walk into his home and eat his damn food.

Unfortunately for Roskanan High Command, however, that truck and Wilhelm would go missing not 4 days later. 

In under a week, about 2 platoons' worth of men, ranging from tank drivers and infantrymen to several R&D specialists, would similarly vanish without any indication of who or what took them.

And most alarmingly, 3 prototype tanks, months' worth of research into tank armor, guns, and construction, and a good 6 troop transport trucks similarly vanished right under everyone's noses.

And now, here all of it was, driving down muddy backroads over the northern Pomazanniki border.

They had landed about 90 kilometers north of the border in Amali in order to evade any potential Pomazanniki raiders picking up their scent before they could fight back. Unfortunately for them that meant having to utilize the tank's sluggish and slightly unreliable engines to push them across more land than they had ever seen at full throttle for upwards of 12 hours a day. A few breakdowns occurred during their journey and at one point they nearly lost a tank to a blown head gasket before cannibalizing a spare truck for any engine parts they could cram into it. Although it ensured no tanks would be lost to the countryside, it also forced the men to pack in much tighter than they probably should have, meaning morale was very low by the time they finally pulled into the country.

The rain probably didnt help spirits either.

"Christ Adams, how long does it take to drive a convoy across open dirt roads?" Wilhelm groaned, rubbing his neck after yet another harsh bump had nearly put his head through the steel roof. "We did over 90 klicks in 16 hours back in Roskana."

"Roskana also didn't have tanks that broke down every 30 fucking feet, jackass." Commander Adams, the current driver of the truck, retorted, casting a sideways glance at Wilhelm before looking in the rearview to make sure nobody fell off. "Besides, only chance we have of stopping is finding this farming town you saw on an old map. Hell, we dont even know if its actually there!"


"Adams I didn't bring you along to remind me of exactly why I dislike the Roskanan military."

"Will, all I'm saying is it could be hours before we even see a glimpse of civilization. I heard these guys barely have one major railway for their entire country, not to mention highways and other things our trucks are so used to driving on."

"Of all the damn nations in the world, Diego picked this one for our wonderful exile." Wilhelm chuckled, looking back down at the map he was loosely holding. He knew they had crossed the border, making it somewhere in the realm of 10-20 km before they hit the town he had scoped out. Would normally not be an issue if they were driving on good roads with reliable vehicles, but they were in the antithesis of that situation at the moment.

"Wake me up when we get there Adams." Wilhelm said, leaning back as best as he could and setting the map down on his face. "I need to not be zoinked out of my mind if I'm gonna explain to the men why we're about to start an entire nation state to support an uprising none of them had heard of until we were on the cargo ship to get here."

Wilhelm closed his eyes right after, choosing not to listen to his long time friend attempt to scold him for passing out during a drive as he forced himself into a deep and dreamless sleep.

"Will? Will." Wilhelm felt someone shaking him. "Wilhelm goddamnit wake your ass up."

"Im up." Wilhelm replied, brushing the map off his face and sitting up with a groan. "Fuck is it?"

As he looked out the windshield, he could see the convoy was rapidly approaching a small town, plots of farmland were to their left and right and confused men and women all paused for a second to view the convoy as it passed by. 

"We're here."

[gelb]

Several hours later the men had set up a makeshift camp out on a field they had bartered (and done some minor intimidation with tanks) for temporary ownership of. Sandbags and barbed wire were unloaded to form a secure perimeter around "barracks" made out of the tarps that typically covered the truck beds. Food crates were stacked near one truck that had been converted into a pseudo kitchen for soldiers to eat at. Once everything was set and the men had a chance to finally get out and stretch a bit, morale improved greatly and it gave the tank crews ample time to asses their vehicles and make any repairs deemed unnecessary in the field.

"Glad to see the men are back in good spirits." Wilhelm commented to Adams as the latter blew on a piping hot cup of coffee the cook had made for him. Wilhelm was still astonished the infantry squad that had tagged along managed to steal so much cooking equipment when they left, as well as someone trained on how to use it all properly. "And that we have actual food and not more fucking hardtack."

"Hot food and a seat that isn't made of wood will do that to a man." Adams chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee and wiping his mouth with his greatcoat's sleeve. "Damn that's good."

The group had been here several hours now, Wilhelm had debriefed everyone as soon as they dismounted and began setting up the base, and by the looks of it this was where they were going to dig in. If not just for tonight, than for the duration of their time supporting the revolution in this country.

"People here are astonishingly nice for having a military force drive tanks up onto their lawn." Adams said after a brief silence, taking another long sip of coffee and letting out an exhale to cool down his mouth. "At least I think so anyway."

"Conflict is normal here, Adams, we're jumping into a civil war that's only stalled because of a foreign threat." Wilhelm said, tilting his head to crack the soreness out of his upper spine. "Seeing an armored convoy like this is probably as normal to them as going to get the groceries was for us before the war. Either that or they just dont get paid enough to give a fuck."

"Bit of both I guess." Adams said, shrugging as he drained the last of the black coffee down his throat. "So, what now?"

"Now? We wait." Wilhelm huffed, rubbing his hands together before stuffing them into the pockets of his coat. "Sent a runner up forward with a message for Diego to let him know we finally made it in country. For now we have to dig in and start looking for people we can bring into our cause, cant fight a war with four infantry squads, a cook, and three tanks that can break down if you look at em wrong."

Wilhelm turned back towards the camp now, watching the men talk around makeshift campfires and relax on the sides of the trucks. Perhaps this could be a good fortress for now, needed a bit of touching up to do (and probably needed to be moved off of the farmer's land he was encroaching on) but this town seemed reasonably defensible and the proximity to the border meant he would know if any foreign parties showed up to help the ruling body against him.

"But for now, Adams, promote someone to Company Commander and tell him to start getting his men to move out in search of recruits." Wilhelm said, turning to move towards his own personal tent. "And we need a name for this damn military state."

"How about 'The Regulars'?" Adams called, turning around as Wilhelm walked off.

Wilhelm paused at his tent flap, nodding slightly.

"I like it."