By: Ray Zhao

Dawn was fast approaching, and the deadline crept closer. There was no movement from the enemy trenches. 7:00 struck. The fatal hour was here. I almost wished that it would come sooner; the wait strained my nerves so badly that I felt dizzy. Footsteps were heard behind me. A young man, barely 30, ran out, breathless. He barely caught his breath before 7:00 struck. The opposing side of the valley instantly burst out with bullets. The war was on. Scurrying men were all about me, doing every possible thing to save their own lives and that of their comrades. I went to find that young man who had rushed to the trench.

Three days earlier, the military alliance of Alserfeld, Lorakam, and Cothamera, had invaded Yesaleder. The grand military alliance of the Southern Countries had responded by kicking the Alserfeldian troops out of Yesaleder but did not do anything else for fear of a major war, which would damage the economy, decrease morale, and make the internal divisions worse. Due to the inaction from the alliance after Alserfeldian aggression before, Alserfeld demanded that the alliance give up Yesaleder to Alserfeld within 72 hours. The final minutes of those 72 hours found me commanding my troops, numbering 3 divisions, in a trench system.

I soon found him. He was a tall gentleman with black hair, black eyes, and a small black beard. Though he was only a private, he had the general appearance of a nobleman. I pointed for him and me to go to my little plan-making room behind my observation post, which was soundproof and would serve as a great talking spot.

When I reached the room, I sat down. I was expecting him to say something, but he handed me a letter and asked permission to leave. I gave it, and he left the room, hurrying off. I set the letter down upon the maps, next to the pens and pencils that I had used many a night to write reports and make plans, sometimes finishing at three in the morning. I focused my straying eyes back on the letter; it was from the General of the Army. I frowned. He had only contacted me once before, and that was when he had promoted me to Staff Sergeant. I tore it open with great haste as I remembered the battle we were in. It was detailed as such:

Dear Staff Sergeant Breckenridge,

Perhaps you know already that most of the forces on the front line in your immediate sector are stationed at Dimlank Ridge some 200 miles away because we thought the enemy will advance there. While substantial troops are attacking there, we strongly believe that you are controlling the sector where the major advance is heading. I will be sending troops soon. Please expect some heavy casualties.

General of the Army, Carruthers

I froze. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this. The enemy was advancing through MY sector! I had made these preparations in my heart, but I was still shocked. I went outside into the sunlight and began yelling. I yelled for planes. For support. For the idle folks to take up weapons and fight. Then, the noise stopped. I almost laughed. The thousands of blue-uniformed dots that were trying to cross retreated. The valley fell still. I barked orders at a furious rate. No, Whitney, don’t just stand there! Give the men food and treat their wounds. Cool the barrels of the guns! Call in some reinforcements!

My joy at having the assault ended was not long. After another division filed in from the reserves, I wasn’t joyful, I was ELATED. Then, the steady drone of airplanes was heard. Everyone, including me, from the Staff Sergeant down to each private, froze. We all feared that noise like a squirrel fears hungry foxes. I did the only thing I could: call for fighters and wait. It was not long. Our weaponry, airplanes, engines, and weapons were all superior to the enemy. Our fighters whizzed my overhead and returned a few minutes later. It seemed even the drone of the aircraft was triumphant. I didn’t let my hopes up though. I knew that the enemy still did have a lot of men. How many? I was about to find out.

It was almost midday before the fateful even occurred. I was eating a cookie when the valley sounded up in deafening noise. Planes from both sides began to fly by, and the air quickly became so thick with them that the sun was blotted out and shade increased exponentially. The airplanes crashed into each other, fired at each other, fired at the ground troops, and made the sky seem like two wasp clans battling for dominance. It was only when a downed airplane fire was extinguished did I hear the gunfire. I looked and beheld a strange sight: The ground had turned blue! Wait… no… those were enemy men charging. They flowed like real water over the previously green ground, making everything a sea of blue. My men were utterly demoralized. It was almost impossible to even think about having the notion to consider being alive.

The only hope lay in the planes above. They battled hard, but one side was losing. Inch by inch, plane by plane, the enemy was forced back. Then, something that I would recall for all my life happened. In a dazzling display, every other plane in the formation lit with fire and dived down, parallel to each other. There was no doubt that this was intentional. Everything was perfect. Each plane traveled at the same speed, parallel to each other. Then, almost before I could process it, the planes crashed into the ground. Why were they sacrificing planes? THERE WERE IMPOSTERS IN- this ominous thought was broken by cheering from my ragged band of remaining troops. Then, I saw why. Circles of fire, so numerous that the entire valley was orange, red, and full of smoke, burned. This time, the blue wave did not quench the fire but rather the opposite! Soldier after enemy soldier was encircled in flame. Then, I heard pounding feet behind me. I turned and saw my friend Albatrros’s divisions had come.

The result of the battle could not be made clearer. After my victory, I was promoted again, but my work became something “purely administrative”. I hated it. I wanted action, and in the spring of next year, I finally got it. After numerous stunning victories at the battle of Leyetefea Gulf, despite my best efforts, my much smaller army was badly routed by the enemy and was cut to pieces. 8 divisions were lost. However, I was still very proud of my army for inflicting so many casualties on the enemy. I was proud that no one with the status of a specialist officer or above surrendered. But we still lost, and that was devastating. I escaped with two divisions, heading for the Shekeritia mountains to gather some more divisions. Unfortunately, after many defecting officers, undermining of trust, spies and espionage agents that ran wild, and general demoralization, the General of the Army surrendered three months later. I still think that I would have continued due to the wonder battles fought on the ground. I still write that it was his bragging about how we won that first battle that ensured his doom.