REMINDER:
SUMMONING AMERICA WILL BE DISCONTINUED after the end of the GVE arc, sometime in November.
– –
Fort Hammer
Malmund Pass, Mu
First Lieutenant Sam Bennett leaned back in his seat before popping his head out of the Booker's hatch as his unit rolled through the gates of Fort Hammer. Dust swirled in the air as he took in the base — just a mess of tents and buildings scattered like someone forgot where everything went. They probably never expected any fighting to reach this place, not from their previous neighbors the Leiforians nor from these new aggressors, the Gra Valkans. But hey, at least it had a decent perimeter set up; the Muans had done well enough with what they had.
He glanced at the orders on his tablet one more time before stowing it away. The Colonel wanted them to link up with the local commander, a Major Kal Torvin, and get the lay of the land. Well, that was just fine by him. It was about time they got some action.
He guided his platoon to the designated staging area, the engines growling as the tanks came to a stop. Bennett hopped out, squinting against the harsh sunlight. Another day, another dustbowl. At least this one had a bit of shade.
A Muan soldier approached, snapping off a salute. "First Lieutenant Bennett? Major Torvin is waiting for you in the command center."
Bennett tipped his helmet. "Much obliged. Y'all got any chow 'round here? My boys are mighty hungry after that drive."
The soldier pointed towards a nearby building. "The mess hall is over there. Help yourself."
"'Preciate it." Bennett turned to his platoon sergeant. "Sarge, get the men squared away and grab some grub. I'll go see what the major's got cookin'."
As he made his way to the command center, Bennett found himself grinning like an idiot, butterflies churning in his stomach. The Bookers were here, and they were fixin' to give those Gra Valkan sumbitches a taste of American firepower. Inside the command center, Major Kal Torvin hunched over a map table, barely noticing his entrance.
Bennett cleared his throat.
"Ah, First Lieutenant Bennett, glad you could join us," Torvin said, looking up from the map.
Bennett nodded. "Likewise, Major. We're rarin' to go. What's the situation lookin' like?"
Torvin tapped the map. "The Gra Valkans overran our position on the left flank of the pass yesterday. Everyone's fallen back to this very base. Intel reports they're now massing approximately 150 armored units 20 kilometers north, including at least 30 Wilder tanks. They're expected to launch an offensive within the next 12 hours, likely targeting our last defensive line here at Malmund Pass."
Bennett leaned in, studying the map. A slow smile spread across his face. This was the kind of party he and his boys had been itchin' for. 4 Bookers, 4 LAVs, and 2 humvees against an entire army – the first tank battle between Uncle Sam and Wannabe Kraut. He'd heard stories of 73 Easting from his Pops, and oh boy was this situation looking a helluva lot more decisive. Shit, whatever goes down in the next few hours might even be immortalized.
"Alright, Major, lay it on me. Where're you thinkin' of puttin' us?"
Torvin's finger traced a path along the map. "We're considering setting up an ambush here, at Devil's Gulch. It's a narrow valley that'll funnel their armor."
Bennett glanced at the ridge and then the valley. High ground, narrow path, easy backpedaling - the Valkies were completely and utterly cooked. "That ridge to the north – what's the elevation?"
