Hells Bells

Breaking Point

"I have made a clear lapse in my judgement, when choosing my battles. So as my final act I surrender my country to you, oh Arragon."

- King Velvet the 8th's abdication speech.

Originally Written in 2022, some parts revised.

March 27th, 2025. Minskin Plains. Kingdom of Clen.

The sun shines bright over the melted snow covered plains near the Kingdoms capital. A whistle breaks the silent air. Tanks roll over Minskin trenches followed by the infantry crawling out. A mix of Coliac and Minskin aircraft fly overhead. The ground shakes as artillery pounds at the charge, the air is filled with screams of Hel rocket artillery, turning the tanks and men into twisted heaps. The air forces above clash, with the outdated Minskin biplanes falling prey to Arragonian P-51's, as intense dogfights break out with the supplied Coliac spitfires. 

As the infantry nears the enemy's line, the machine guns and rifles open up, catching the Minskins in a funnel slowly forcing them toward the center of the battlefield. Minskin artillery silences the first trench line, using the remainder of their shells in a desperate attempt to get the infantry further in their charge. As tanks crawl up the hill, hidden entrenched field guns open up from their crude bunkers decimating the lead tanks in pinpoint efficiency. Arragonian infantry reemerge from their dugouts, letting loose another hail a machine gun fire, with rifleman maiming the front row of Minskins with rifle grenades. The attackers reach the top and jump into the trenches, engaging in brutal hand to hand combat with bayonets, shovels, and rifle butts. A Coliac supplied tank drives over the first trench, coming to a burning halt as a rocket sends the turret to the skies. The Arragonian aircraft above dive and strafe the tanks and men, causing the infantry to rout, as they run down the hill another tank is destroyed. 

A soldier hits the ground from this explosion, half running half stumbling down the hill. Arragonians taking shots at him as he slams into a mangled corpse of his comrade. The shots get closer, kicking up the dirt around him. He crawls through the muddied snow coming across a rifle and it's previous owners arm. Prying it from the hand, he shoots up from his crawl. Firing the rifle and hitting one of the defenders in the throat and causing the others to duck. The Minskin pulls back the straight bolt of the rifle and pats his pouches down looking for another cartridge. A horrid realization comes upon him as he feels none, he then felt a massive pain in his shoulder, when the Arragonians restart their pestering of him. Hitting him in the shoulder shattering it. The rifle is thrown, with him sprinting through the hail of fire back towards his line. Midway there he stumbles upon a hurriedly dug foxhole, with an anti tank group huddling in fear inside it. He slides on in slamming into one of the walls with his shattered shoulder, letting out a wincing squeal as he does it. Staying still for a moment catching his breath, he can feel the ground start to shake. He also notices the artillery stopped. Getting up and peaking back to the hill he sees the cause. Arragonian armor starts coming over the hill and running down his comrades crude defense line. The AT group next to him, man a position at the mouth of the foxhole wielding a Coliac rocket grenade launcher. It's operator shakes uncontrollably as an Arragonian metal behemoth bears down on them. Squeezing the trigger lets out a hiss with the rocket careening towards the tank at an intense speed. Upon hit the tank's turret, the rocket is ricocheted upwards with a deafening squeal before exploding harmlessly over the tank. The tank comes to a slow stop, focusing it's gun on the group. Machine gun fire erupts from the tank turning the AT group into a lump of riddled flesh. The soldier stares on in terror as his fellow country turn into lifeless husk leaning upon the wall of the hole. Ignoring the immense pain he scampers out of the foxhole and run for the now lifeless Minskin trenchline, all the while passing more of his comrades wallowing in the blood red snow of the plains.