The Charge of the 600th

“I am waiting, sir,” said Commander ‘Trabakmar, staring towards the Adversaries’ frontline positions several kremla to the east. A mining community sat overlooking the valley to the north, its populace taking up arms to resist the Adversary’s onslaught. They died well. The valley itself was flanked by hills which had virtually unimpeded views. Any advance made by either us or them would surely be noticed by anyone, and subject to substantial incoming fire.
“Waiting?” I uttered as I passed behind him and walked up to his left side. “You will wait until I have clear orders for you to do otherwise. I will wait– “
“Clear?” indignantly replied ‘Trabakmar. “Normally there are clear orders for proper warriors of the Covenant to attack everything and anything as they place it.” Despite my superiority in rank, it was he who was the veteran of the war against the Adversaries. He was the one who faced them time and time again. At a grizzled age of two hundred, it was he who has seen a sun or two set on many a battlefield. Yet, he remained only a Commander of a single brigade, declining promotions consistently over the decades. According to others who served under him and were later elevated beyond his position, ‘Trabakmar considered the 600th Shock Naval Infantry Brigade his family, and was loathe to part from them.
And as such, it was ‘Trabakmar who looked down upon me, me who had no prior experience in facing the Adversaries, me who had not seen a battle against them, and me who had not even seen a full century of life. Nevertheless, I found distaste in the impetuousness of my subordinate’s character, experience notwithstanding.
“Dammit, ‘Trabakmar, I would attack!” I snapped, turning my head to glare at him. I then looked away, towards the Adversaries. “I am constrained.” I crossed my arms. In this, I was correct. I had not been given orders by my own superior, one Field Master ‘Darik Krathuree, to attack anyone or anything. So, I waited. And in turn, ‘Trabakmar waited. Had I a less bloodthirsty subordinate, perhaps this waiting game of ours would not have been fraught with frayed nerves.
Half an hour passed before an officer from the Field Master’s forward operating base arrived at our positions, piloting a Ghost. He was an eager young one, barely two decades old, and had a certain fire in his eye. He reminded me of ‘Trabakmar, if the old man was younger and with more energy. “Will you not attack, my lord?” asked the officer, who stopped in front of me.
“Attack?” I uttered. “Attack, attack?”
“Attack what, attack where?” asked ‘Trabakmar.
“There, my lord!” cried out the officer, pointing at the Adversaries’ positions at the far side of the valley. “There! There are our Adversaries! Our ancient enemies! Our old foes! Should we not show them our power? Our might, my lord?!”
“General ‘Kalaree,” said my Field Master’s voice from my comms. “This is Field Master ‘Krathuree. You are to attack the Adversaries’ positions across the valley. You will receive artillery support. Additional forces from the 222nd Infantry Brigade will be on your north flank, while your south flank will be guarded by Jiralhanae. Commence your attack with haste. What say you? Over.”
“Field Master, this is General ‘Kalaree,” I replied, “I understand your command and will see it through. Over and out.”
I stared at the young officer with intent, and my memory of meeting him once before slowly returned to me, like a familiar face stepping out of the fog and into one’s torchlight. “Major… ‘Sajaree, is it? You seem to have certain action, certain energy. Dare I say, a certain élan? Hmm. You may join our brigade in the attack, should you wish.”
“I wish it, my lord!” ‘Sajaree said firmly. “I thank you.” He then rode his Ghost off towards an advanced position on the left.
I then looked to ‘Trabakmar. “You have your wish, Commander. You are to attack the Adversaries across the valley. I shall provide tactical support to you. Advance steadily, and under your care, the brigade should not suffer unnecessary loss.”
“Certainly, sir. However, I must inform you that the Adversaries have fortified their positions with emplacements, infantry, and light and medium artillery, and they certainly have heavy artillery and limited air support, and there are additional Adversary infantry forces on both sides of the valley, and it is contrary to all conventions of war to initiate frontal assaults on Adversary defensive positions – fortified ones, no less – without prior artillery or air bombardment, regardless of armor support, of which we have in moderate numbers.
“Indeed, indeed, but eh… what choice do we have, hmm? Orders are orders, and neither you nor I have any standing to defy them. See to it your attack is carried out.”
‘Trabakmar and I moved away from each other, and I went to a small command post where I had a tactical overlay of the battlefield from a small display table. I was patched into the helmet camera of ‘Trabakmar, who moved into a Wraith positioned at the very front of the brigade.
“Warriors! Prepare to move out!” A few short moments passed, filled with murmuring and stirrings. Then, the order. “Forward, march!” The entirety of the 600th Shock Naval Infantry Brigade advanced, across the largely empty field of short, brown grasses. There was a paved road crossing the valley, from north to south leading to the village, and a small hut here or there, but beside those features, the landscape before the brigade was devoid of any significant structure or natural formation. In the distance was the distinct, reassuring hum of several Wraiths, lumbering besides fighting men moving steadily on foot at an even, yet almost leisurely pace.
When the brigade reached the road I saw the Ghost of Major ‘Sajaree drive off in front of ‘Trabakmar and the rest of the brigade. He was yelling, waving about his unsheathed energy sword like a madman.
“The wrong way!” bellowed ‘Sajaree. “The wrong way! We must break off our forward advance! To the right, to the right!”
The Adversaries silenced Major ‘Sajaree, with a well-placed shot from one of their artillery pieces. The high-explosive Adversary plasma shell slammed into the earth, utterly destroying ‘Sajaree’s Ghost, a brilliant bright purple light briefly enveloping ‘Trabakmar’s helmet camera. More artillery strikes bore down on the brigade, incurring losses upon them. Counterbattery fire from our own artillery rained down on the Adversaries’ positions, but were of limited effect, since they had since erected shielding in their defenses. Indeed, a great golden rectangle had formed over the Adversaries’ positions, with the energy flowing from an emitter of substantial size, behind the frontlines of our foes. Our plasma bombardment was dispelled by the shield, and had little, if any, effect on our enemies.
Then, our forces had advanced the breadth of the valley, and when the brigade was within one hundred auls, ‘Trabakmar gave the order. “Brigade, charge!” He ignited his energy sword, and dropped to the ground. He ran forward, followed by a vanguard of Sangheili. He leaped into an Adversary ditch, which was protected by bags of sand and concrete works and the like, and engaged in a furious melee with an Adversary, who had affixed a plasma bayonet to the end of his blaster rifle. The clamor of combat overtook the audio, and based on scanners, the brigade was thoroughly engaged with the Adversaries, although were suffering significant losses.
“Commander, coordinate our Wraiths to destroy that shield emitter!” I said. “We need that artillery support! I’m calling in Banshees!”
Then, I switched comms to the 414th Sky Lance, the closest operating Banshee squadron. “414th Sky Lance, this is Legion 9. Request air support immediately. Repeat: request air support immediately.”
“Legion 9, this is 414 Prime,” said a strained voice. “We are engaged with the enemy in Sector T-5, but we will attempt to render aid. Be patient. Over and out.”
I cursed under my breath as I switched back to the battlefield overlay. The situation did not necessarily develop to our advantage.
Enfilading fire from both flanks raked our numbers, and whenever there seemed to be a breach in the Adversaries’ lines, more of them appeared from reserves, plugging the gap and keeping up the mounting pressure. A single Adversary Cloud Knight, a sort of fighter-bomber of theirs, harried us unmolested, firing rockets at our Wraiths with impunity. An Adversary war mech appeared, early-model. One could tell based on its somewhat exposed pilot in the chest of the metal beast, and its rudimentary kinetic and explosive arsenal. It was a formidable foe, nevertheless, and checked the advances of several Jiralhanae packs that managed to join our assault, raking their numbers with a hail of radioactive bullets from a chain gun. It took a pair of Mgalekgolo to destroy the mech. Meanwhile, our field artillery was woefully insignificant, failing to break through the Adversaries’ shields. I looked to the overall roster of the 600th. Confirmed deaths approached fifty percent.
“Damnation!” yelled out ‘Trabakmar. Several Adversary dead lay before him, but his haggard breathing betrayed his confidence. He was exhausted, and had barely penetrated enemy lines. “The necessity of this attack is eluding me, young one!” he said in his comms. “Recommend that my brigade pull back, this so-called support that was promised is absent!”
I wanted to spit at ‘Trabakmar, to curse him and his line. The old man wants to withdraw? He does not jest? But I knew. I knew as much as he, our numbers were hardly sufficient for any meaningful breakthrough or rout of the Adversaries. To send another brigade across the valley and into the cauldron would only subject those forces to heavy bombardment as well, before being thrown needlessly into the fire. For as long as those positions stood erect and untouched by artillery or airstrikes, to penetrate them would require far more numbers than I had at my disposal currently. And for ‘Trabakmar, the sight of seeing his brigade foolishly thrown into a meat grinder with no support was something to be ashamed of. Reluctantly, I gave the order.
“’Trabakmar, fall back,” I said. “Fall back!”
Most wickedly, the Adversaries moved their shielding back from the point of contact between our forces and theirs, so that our own artillery would begin striking the very first fortifications the brigade came in contact with: on our own men. ‘Trabakmar managed to rally what remained of the 600th, and made an orderly withdrawal from combat, covered by our own artillery. Several minutes passed as the survivors of the attack streamed back to our lines from across the valley, all the way harassed by inaccurate artillery fire and more accurate Adversary sharpshooters. Thankfully, however, said sharpshooters were dispersed once the Banshees of the 414th arrived, delayed, but welcome nevertheless.
I stepped out of my command post and saw a badly damaged Wraith lethargically floating towards our lines. Commander ‘Trabakmar sat atop it, then jumped down, uttering a heavy grunt as he landed on his feet.
“Well, sir…” he started.
“Well, sir?” I said.
“Well… I will break him. How dare he ride before a commander in brigade like that! Did you see the creature?! Screeching like some tight woman, some lowly wench caught in another man’s bed? Damn him. Damn him and all his kind.”
“Damn who, Commander?”
“’Sajaree! That Ghost-rider! Insolent miserable mad-minded mutineer. I shall have his mandibles.”
“Sir,” said one of my adjutants who stood beside me, “he is confirmed killed in action. The Adversary artillery strike on his Ghost struck true.”
‘Trabakmar seemed utterly unperturbed at that news. “Has anyone seen my brigade?”
I looked to the east, catching sight of a steady line of warriors, either wounded, exhausted, deafened, or shaken. Most were Sangheili, although here and there were Unggoy or Kig-Yar. There were three pairs of Mgalekgolo attached to the brigade: only one returned to our lines. The Jiralhanae were almost totally annihilated, and only a group of four returned.
‘Trabakmar climbed atop the Wraith once more, and when he summited the machine, he was greeted with tired yet still enthusiastic cheers. “Warriors! That attack was a madman’s concoction through no fault of mine!”
“Go again, sir?” said one Sangheili almost immediately. Other voices joined him, some Sangheili, some Unggoy.
“No, no,” answered ‘Trabakmar. “You have all done enough today.” The commander descended from the Wraith. More winded cheering followed.
Vehicles from the Field Master’s forward operating base soon arrived, and from an Ekesan-pattern transport, came Field Master ‘Krathuree himself, along with some of his adjutant officers and a complement reinforcements in the form of Sangheili files.
‘Trabakmar went off towards them. I followed, although not as in haste as he.
“Are you the commander of the 600th Shock Naval Infantry Brigade?” asked ‘Krathuree to ‘Trabakmar.
“Yes, sir, that I am,” replied ‘Trabakmar.
“What did you mean, sir?”
“Me, sir?”
“By attacking a well-prepared Adversary fortification from the front, contrary to all established conventions for fighting the Adversaries and the general standard protocols of warfare?”
“Him!” stoutly answered ‘Trabakmar.
“Who?” asked ‘Krathuree.
“Him,” again said ‘Trabakmar, this time gesturing to me as I approached from behind.
“Me?” I asked. “What have you told him?”
“You.”
“Me?!”
“I was ordered,” stated ‘Trabakmar.
“Ordered?” inquired ‘Krathuree.
“I was given the order to attack by my superior officer in front of the warriors. I hope you will not lay blame on me: him!”
“Come here, General ‘Kalaree,” said the Field Master. I did so, and stood before him. “General… you have lost the 600th Shock Naval Infantry Brigade.”
I was beside myself. “Indeed, I have not, sir!”
“Where are they, then?!” exclaimed ‘Trabakmar. The Field Master and I both looked at him, surprised at his outburst, but returned out attention to each other at once.
“You have lost the 600th Brigade,” continued ‘Krathuree. “The finest…” now, at this time, he became very despondent, almost driven to tears. Only later was I informed that his first position as a Minor was serving with the 600th. “The finest naval infantry to depart the worlds of our glorious Covenant. How could you!”
“I have not lost the 600th Brigade, sir,” I replied. “I have carried out your orders as you had verbally transmitted to me over communications. There is still the recording to witness.”
I played the recording from a datapad, and the Field Master’s voice came forth.
“General ‘Kalaree, this is Field Master ‘Krathuree. You are to attack the Adversaries’ positions across the valley. You will receive artillery support. Additional forces from the 222nd Infantry Brigade will be on your north flank, while your south flank will be guarded by Jiralhanae. Commence your attack with haste. What say you? Over.”
“There was no artillery. The 222nd was nowhere to be seen. The Jiralhanae were cut down like wheat before a scythe. I even requested air support: it never came. Our attack turned to folly.”
“Folly?!” barked ‘Krathuree.
“Aris,” said ‘Trabakmar as he approached us. That was the Field Master’s given name. “You have lost the 600th Brigade.”
‘Krathuree said nothing to ‘Trabakmar, but instead turned away. “Hold positions,” ordered the Field Master. “Await further commands. That is all.” The Field Master departed us.
‘Trabakmar and I looked at each other. “When can their glory fade?” I asked.
Category:The Weekly