A Cold Front Coming

Chapter Twenty-Seven

October 8th, 2020; The war is now nine days old. Our army has pushed just three miles into enemy territory. The militia divisions have led the assault, some say as cannon fodder, others say as leaders in the glorious conquest for freedom. I often wonder which is true. My mind wanders back to previous times of what seem like a lifetime ago, though as recent as a month. The enemy has built many defensive foxholes and spider trenches, making it surprisingly hard to push across the plains here. The high grass and scrubby woodlands make excellent cover for the enemy, and we lose many men each time we clear an area. As I write I lay in a ditch along the side of the road. It is dark and I can see the glow of hellish stars above.

October 14th, 2020; We have pushed even deeper into enemy territory now. Seven miles I believe. Today we took a small farming town build alongside the highway, it was mostly abandoned, as its inhabitants have either fled further on from us or past us. We've been lucky so far. All of the fighting along the lines except for in a few larger towns have been skirmishes.

October 22nd, 2020; We push on! Another eight miles taken! We have only fifty-two miles until the capital of Bistra. Moral is high and the men are saying that the war will be over by the end of the year. I find myself believing them.

November 4th, 2020; We have taken another twelve miles. The enemy seems to have fallen back to about thirty miles from the capital in a line of steep rocky hills. Taking them will be hard and I dread having to do so, but until then we will celebrate our great victory. The Silver Legion seems unstoppable!

November 6th, 2020; We now sit at the base of the hills. Fighting will be tough.

November 27th, 2020; Enemy reinforcements have arrived. The fighting grows fierce, and our casualties are high. Our division of six thousand men is now down to just three thousand, and our moral is rapidly plunging along with our numbers.

December 1st, 2020; We are in full retreat. I write this sitting in the back of a truck while I look back at the distant hills. We have been outnumbered six to one here and the situation is untenable.

December 30th, 2020; We now hunker in the basement of a building at the edges of the Saarskenland Strip. The Black Tower now sits within sight. Rockets slam into its strengthened sides, but it still holds. It gives the men just enough hope to keep going, though we know the situation is dire. Our division has just thirty men left. Those of us who are still alive will do our best to keep fighting. Our orders now are to hold the city at all costs, by order no.227.