Tales from the Foxhole

Desperate Generals

In a dark room, surrounded on all sides by gray walls, illuminated by a single swinging lamp, stand four men in the finest blue uniforms ever seen in the Coavish Army. They stand around a table covered by a map filled with green and blue markers. Their faces glum and eyes bloodshot and baggy.

General Aiden strokes his miskept beard as he stares at one particular spot on the map. A city of blue tokens surrounded by many more green ones on three sides. His eyes narrow as a million scenarios play out in his mind, each one becoming more terrible than the last.

General Seamus is reading over a long list, filled with numbers and names that are far too confusing to anyone other than his underlings. But the few words that make sense to anyone are Rifles, Fuel, Ammunition, and Tanks. The numbers are smaller than he had hoped, and that made him very solemn indeed.

General Fergus had his eyes on a spot on the map splashed in red. Not paying much mind to the discarded industrial token on the floor. He stares at the red splotch for a second, then scans the map before going back to the red splotch. He does this several times.

General Donal scans the entire map over and over again. He appears to have no particular interest in the map. He looks at his fellow generals and sighs.

The large steel door behind them, allowing a hurricane of noise to break the anxious silence. The sounds of typing, phones ringing, and shouting mix into a symphony of organized chaos that was quickly losing what little control was left. A young orderly walks into the room. He snaps a quick salute as all four generals turn to face him.

"Latest reports from Admiral Eamon, sirs." The Orderly presents a piece of paper to Donal, who takes the paper with care. He gives a quick salute back, giving the orderly the chance to leave the room. The door shuts, cutting the room off from the chaos once more. Fergus, Seamus, and Aiden watch as Donal reads the message over several times. They wait with bated breath for him to have any sort of reaction. After some time, Donal folds the paper and places it on the table.

Without a word, he reaches over to the city covered in tokens, and takes some blue ones out, shifting green ones into a tighter circle. Fergus clenches his fist as he watches this take place.

Donal puts the blue tokens to the side.

"Admiral Eamon reports that his ships are holding the bay, barely, against the Legion's Flotillas. But the reports he's receiving from his marines are grim." He pauses to allow the information to sink in. "Colonial tanks are nearly within sight of the Town Hall and the artillery bombardments have increased dramatically. He expects the Colonials are preparing for their final assault."

Fergus glares at the city on the map. "Can they hold?"

"Not with the supplies they're getting." Seamus says, putting his list on the table. "Our logistics hubs are having a hard time adjusting their routes, now that our most western industrial base has been blown off the face of this earth. Our men barely have enough ammunition to hold the line as is."

Aiden scoffs. "Our troops have faced worse odds. They know how important that city is to us and them. They'll stand or die trying."

Fergus lets out a mocking laugh. "Noble, General. I'm sure that'll do great on a propaganda film, but let's be realistic here." He grabs a wooden stick and points at several locations on the map. "Our troops have been on the back foot for weeks. Our backs are at the river, and Jade Cove is nearly cut off. The only thing keeping that stain on our existence alive is the small river crossing being held by the Navy."

Aiden glares at Fergus and opens his mouth. But Fergus beats him to it. "Jade Cove is just as important to those Greenbacks as it is to use, if not more so. We need to show these bastards the cost of a victory here and now!"

Donal raises an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting, Fergus?"

Fergus goes stiff. He closes his eyes. A small war takes place in his head. Should he suggest such an idea? Why not? What options does he have? He looks at each of his fellow generals, who stare back at him in morbid curiosity. He takes a deep breath and comes to a decision.

"We use our missile against Jade Cove."

"Out of the question!" Aiden snaps, slamming his fist on the table. "We'd be killing our own troops and for what?! 'A Show of Force?!'" He points an accusing finger at Fergus. "All you're proving is how much of a mad man you are!"

"The Collies have shown us their willingness to use such a weapon on us! They killed thousands of civilians and crippled our supply network with their strike. We need to show them how far we'll go!"

"And what's to stop them from escalating it more?" Donal asks. Fergus tries to answer but finds none he can give. It could very well lead to an escalation. An escalation that could see the end of Caovia. But it could also be the very thing that would end the war. Or at least bring the Colonial Legion to the negotiating table. It was a risk he was willing to take.

"Logistically speaking," Seamus buts in, "this operation would be the equivalent of a glass cannon. We have enough supplies for one missile, and it must not miss."

Donal looks at the table, debating with himself. Aiden stares at him in shock. "Donal, you can't seriously be considering this! You'd be condemning us!"

"As if this war hasn't already condemned us, General!" Fergus snaps. "All the lives taken; the cities destroyed! The land is covered in scars that will take generations to disappear!"

"We can't attack with the supplies we have, and our defenses cannot be supplied further. We've put everything on the line we have. If we have a chance to end the war with favorable terms, I say we must take it."

Donal remained silent. Seamus continued.

"In terms of casualties, the loss of life would be minimal at best."

The High General ran the numbers and scenarios through his head over and over again. Donal had to face reality. They were losing this war. All of their gains were being taken away from them by the Colonial Onslaught. All of this bloodshed would be for nothing. He needed some way to end the war and now, before it could cross the river.

But was this the answer? Could he really condemn the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers fighting to their utmost to defend the city? What would history say about him? Would they agree with him? Demand he do something different?

Like Hell he'll ever find out. Donal looks at Seamus. "How long would it take for it to be ready for launch?"

Aiden felt his heart sink as Seamus looked over the list once more and did the calculations in his head.

"About a week, maybe less if we pool enough resources."

Donal nods. "Then that's how long Admiral Eamon has."

He opens the door but is stopped by Aiden. "Donal, if you do this..." He trails off. Donal says nothing. He pushes Aiden aside and walks up to an orderly. He grabs a pen and paper and writes something down on a piece of paper. Once done, he hands it to the young orderly.

"Make sure this gets to Admiral Eamon as soon as possible." The orderly salutes and walks over to a communication desk. Donal walks back into the Command Room and looks at Seamus and Fergus.

"I want as much of our supplies dedicated to this project as possible, Seamus. Fergus, get the site ready for launch. I want extra security around the area, and I need those coordinates correct. That missile needs to be spot on. No Mistakes."

Both Generals nod and leave the room, leaving Donal alone with Aiden. The men stare each other down.

"I hope you can live with yourself, General Donal." Aiden growls.

Donal shakes his head. "I doubt I will."