The wind blew sharply. I gazed at the brightly risen moon beyond the fully open cockpit.
It’s a full moon. Considering that the Normandy landings also took place on a night with a full moon, the weather itself wasn’t all that bad.
“Suppress all production facilities before dawn.”
I visualized the operation in my mind. Although Hearts of Generals is a ‘strategy-tactics’ game, it doesn’t delve much into tactical aspects.
For instance, while you can decide where to deploy battalions and how to unfold them, you cannot control individual soldiers to occupy buildings.
Isn’t that true even in reality?
Even without reaching the rank of general, when you command a regiment operating a few battalions, it’s impossible to meticulously move every platoon or squad under your command.
Thus, everything that happens within the Hearts of Generals game is depicted closer to Civilization or Crusader Kings rather than an RTS like Starcraft.
A lump of troops captures cities and occupies regions.
However, the issue was that I wasn’t the player observing all situations from above but rather the spearhead becoming the tip of the sword for that player.
Therefore, I had to view all operations from a tactical perspective rather than a strategic one right now.
The Leimansk arsenal, a facility of the Soviev Empire I once saw in the game.
Due to its rugged mountainous terrain, guerrilla units are highly active there, so it isn’t a primary site for technological or equipment development.
Unless they’re conducting secret research that could provoke official international condemnation if discovered, that is.
I closed my eyes, recalled the map, and drew up the operation.
“In the moonlit night, the First Platoon and Third Platoon will parachute down first.”
The vanguard First and Third Platoons will simultaneously eliminate all guards at the northern gate. Meanwhile, the Fourth Platoon will proceed westward to seize the armory and then join forces with the newly deployed Second Platoon.
“Combat has occurred but was swiftly suppressed. The northern gate opens, allowing the nearby mobile battalion to enter.”
“As soldiers awaken from the sound of gunfire at the guard headquarters, they are neutralized by the coordinated attacks of the infiltrated Third and First Platoons.”
“After confirming the progress of the Second and Third Platoons, we’ll hand over the gate closure and regional control to the mobile battalion and descend together into the underground facility. We’ll recover the blueprints and secure other information assets.”
A series of simulations ended instantly in my mind.
Without semi-automatic rifles capable of burst fire, let alone automatic rifles like AKs, Close-Quarters Combat (CQB) would be far easier than in modern times. Suppressing barracks, armories, outposts, and guardhouses should not be too difficult.
Now, depending on how complex the underground facility is, the operation’s difficulty would either skyrocket or decrease. It was one of the two.
“Entirely dependent on luck.”
I opened my eyes. Already, the acrid smell of blood and gunpowder tickled my nose.
Compared to modern assaults that utilize military satellites and advanced surveillance equipment and fully leverage acquired intelligence assets, this was a world apart.
With no accurate knowledge of the enemy’s size, the structure of the facility, or real-time conditions, we were practically blind—but so were they.
They probably wouldn’t expect an attack from the sky. There wouldn’t be any anti-aircraft guns capable of shooting down airships, and even if they were attacked, there wouldn’t be dedicated communication lines to quickly contact surrounding units.
At best, they’d have carrier pigeons or messengers. The most advanced form might be what’s called a “signal flasher,” a kind of blinking device.
Since these signal flashers haven’t even been distributed to frontline units yet, the probability of them being installed in a peripheral arsenal is virtually zero.
“Complete chaos. People back then must’ve had quite a headache.”
Both attack and defense adopted tactics that, from a modern perspective, were brutally primitive, almost barbaric. It was nothing but regrettable.
After this mission, I should pass along some things, including communication equipment, to the technology research department.
I wiped my mouth bitterly and turned my head to look at Roxanna.
“Will you stay here, Roxanna?”
“Yes, we still have time until we arrive. Don’t we have about an hour left?”
Indeed, someone obsessed with airships. Since the moment she boarded, Roxanna Elrim had remained in the cockpit the entire time.
“Yes, we have about an hour until arrival.”
The scruffy-bearded pilot answered with a cheerful smile, and Roxanna nodded in agreement.
“That’s right. Since there’s nothing else to do, Captain, take a short rest! I’ll make sure everything is ready before we arrive!”
She really seemed to be in love with airships.
Would she suddenly declare a transfer to the aviation division? While I hadn’t spent much time with her compared to other platoon members, I would feel a bit disappointed if that happened.
Still, for Okhraine, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
At least the ‘aviation’ branch won’t be globally established anytime soon. This airship we’re currently on isn’t enough to form an air force.
Until then, if she trains hard and continues to develop, Roxanna Elrim could become the precursor to Okhraine’s Army Air Corps.
Apart from her addiction, her talent is immense.
As I watched Roxanna moving around the cockpit with youthful energy, I thought.
*
First Platoon of the First Company, Rick Hanson licked his parched lips. His second real combat. Last time, he faced simple bandits, but this time, he would face real soldiers of the Soviev Empire.
It was impossible not to feel tense.
Squeak.
He tightened the sling of his rifle and inspected the bullets he was carrying.
“I need to focus properly. Last time, it was purely good luck.”
Fortunately, he only got shot in the buttocks; otherwise, if his heart, head, or artery had been penetrated, he would have died on the spot.
There was no guarantee that such luck would follow him again. Even after boarding the airship, Rick Hanson had completed dozens of inspections.
As he counted the last magazine supplied to him,
“All rise! Prepare for descent!!”
A commanding voice cut through the long corridor as the company commander, dressed in a jump suit, passed by.
“Prepare for descent!”
“Check your equipment in order from the back. Execute!”
“Number 30, Egil Sakorji, no abnormalities!”
“Number 29, Eugene Lantz, no abnormalities!”
From number 30 down to number 6, Rick Hanson. The platoon members shouted fiercely. Were they really about to be deployed into real combat? Rick’s hands gripping the rifle began to tremble.
It wasn’t the descent that was frightening. He was calm while flying.
Because he only had to look at the ground.
However, the most terrifying part begins after landing. The moment life and death hang in the balance starts only after that.
“We’re the vanguard. Focus on my orders.”
Then, Platoon Leader Claude Rain added a word. As if by magic, his trembling heart calmed down.
Claude Rain.
Enok Revendale.
Watching those two somehow naturally calmed his nerves. Though Enok Revendale was about the same age as Rick Hanson, it was hard to describe why.
What could you call something indescribable?
The closest feeling would be like seeing a father and mother. Simply being with them made him feel secure.
“Rick, is it the opposite hip this time?”
“Let’s go for perfect symmetry!”
“You bastards. Stop talking nonsense.”
Of course, the silly jokes from his comrades also helped ease the tension. Rick spat out a coarse curse and chuckled.
Commanders worth trusting and following.
Unit members who were now like family.
Rick had more than enough reason to leap into the sky.
“Let’s all return safely to the battalion, understood?”
“Yes, understood!”
“Also, try not to use red and yellow magic. All the mages in each platoon, remember this clearly.”
“We will keep it in mind.”
All final precautions were reminded. Enok Revendale slowly moved his gaze, taking in each member of the company one by one.
Finally, he issued the command.
“First Company. Descent!!”
At that moment, Rick Hanson hurled himself toward the vast sky. He secured his rifle on his shoulder and adjusted his stance mid-air. In the moonlit view, he stared intently at the ground below.
The distant earth approached in an instant during the descent, yet fear didn’t arise.
He trusted his platoon leader and deputy platoon leader.
He firmly believed they would ensure his safe landing before hitting the ground.
In response to that belief, just before touching down, a strange sensation enveloped Rick Hanson, making him float gently.
He landed softly on the ground like a feather.
Click.
Pulling the lever sent a brass blade into the chamber. Having reloaded, Rick Hanson unconsciously looked up at the sky.
Against the backdrop of the full moon, his comrades adorned the heavens.
Demons crossing the mountains had stained the empire’s night.
