Western Confederation Infantry Corps" during the 2104 - 2579 period of civil, environmental, and military strife. Presented to you in its entirety, unabridged From the Stockholm archives. ( Hash Code: #23-423-8642-1)
* This is a self-written record of the authors life. Starting with his Conscription in 2599, the first few chapters chronicles the recruitment, training, and the first few years of the authors service to the NWC. *
This is not a happy book. This was not a happy period or a bright spot of humanity. This Will never be anyone's "Golden Age". This was merely the survival of the human race while under great oppression of soul, mind, and body. people struggled, starved, killed, and died under brutal regimes that Were the same no matter how many times they were overthrown. Millions died And for what reason? So the Inept leaders of an enslaved people could continue in thier lavish life styles, insulating themselves against the stark reality they had created for their people. No, subjects, Not people. they didn't think of us like that. We were scum. fodder for their wars and slaves to their whims. Not that we knew it at the time. We believed we were fighting for a cause, "For the Younger Generation." So That our children may have a life free from what we had experienced. By defending our borders from the loose elements of our society, people portrayed as anarchists and cannibals. When really, They had been enlightened. They were the first ones. The ones who learned the truth, Who were already fighting for our people. I am Jeremy Edwards. This is the story of my peoples reclemation of their former glory.
The greatest slave is the one Who believes he is freely fighting for a cause.
- A Patriot
Our country is in the grips of a madman. General Primier, Frederick Hartley. His rise to power had been hidden amongst the chaos of our many sided civil war that gradually ended with him at the top. His regime breeded discontent with its military police actions and soul gripping control of the minds of his people and numerous resistance groups were formed. But every time a group would become large enough, or thier actions began to have an effect on his control, He would mercilessly crush them. Numerous unmarked transports would be spotted in the area and nothing would ever be heard from the group ever again. If anyone went to investigate the previous safehouses of the group they would've found stripped rooms. Just a empty box. No debris, no bodies. Not even any crumbs on the floor. Everything just gone. This is assuming that they didn't just burn the neighborhood like normal in order to force docilety from the locals and insure that no other resistance groups would be welcome there.
In the year 2259 I was conscripted by Primier Hartley's "North Western Confederation 768th Infantry Corps " with much pride and relief, little knowing the experiences and trials I would soon encounter. As I left my home in the city and moved to Fort 425 Or, Firebase Red Cloud, for the start of my training it never really occurred to me that in the short stretch of time that had encompassed my entire life until that point, I had resided in a 20 mile area caught in the icy grip of the semi-arctic wasteland.
As I was taken to the recruiting facility in my 16th year of life for my 10 years of mandatory military service. I never once wanted to stop again in the ironically termed "Peace Zone" which was, in all reality far from peaceful. Although the written statistics said that crime had been falling every year for the past eight years, since the 2259 riots, in all reality it wasn't. In fact it seemd like it was steadily climbing. It was either one of three things: Either the Crime Reduction Squads had begun profiting from the criminal activies they were sworn to stop and so, let them go unreported, or they were being blackmailed and couldn't, for fear of their lives report anything, or finally, they had pulled the CRS's out of the area and there weren't any left to report the crimes. Any of the three are valid arguments. All three are based in fact.
I never killed anyone or stole without need. But living in a solar heated dwelling was not easy; there were times without food, although water was plentiful, pure water was rare, almost non-existent. Clothing was also hard to come by. arms were by far the hardest to find. Ammo thrice so. No brass, steel, or iron of any kind was allowed through the scanners. It was plastic or flesh. The reasoning being, if you had metal, you had ammo, if you had ammo, you had a gun. As a result, the polymer weapons black market flourished. After a child reached the age of 12, the North Western Confederation cut off his support, and expected the child to survive to adulthood without any further care. The packets of food, clothing, and water stopped cold. They were expected to earn a living as well as they could by getting a job through the employment agencies which would cheat the inexperienced children out of most of their "money" which could only pay for rent and the barest of necessities. I think the going rate is about $12 a hour. Even when I was younger, the prices were still obscene, $2000 for a half-gallon container of water. That was up from $200 when I was younger.
And if you were deformed in any way, through accident or sickness you were banished to the wastelands to starve or be eaten. That was if it didn't manifest itself until after you were born. If someone was born disfigured they were killed outright. After all, children didn't feel pain until they were a year old.
Friends by that definition were few and far between. No one trusted anyone. I was lucky enough to be invited to a street gang when I was around 6 or 7 called "Una Infragilis, Distinctus Moribimur" Or, "Unity" (* Loosely translated from a long dead language to mean, "Together we are invincible, Separated we die.") In Unity the older boys protected the younger boys until they were conscripted at the age of sixteen. The younger boys worked for the older boys. They would gradually get higher in Unity with time. Gradually shouldering more responsibility until they were trusted enough to protect those under them. Not a perfect system but, what is? Since the government's stance on gangs wasn't the best, Unity was disliked. Our leaders were constantly on the move due to fear of "Adjustment" which was the term used for the inprisonment, or more likely, execution of our leadership.
All in all, it was a hell-hole. Plain and simple. So when I finally came of age to be conscripted, I left with relief tempered with apprehension as I was herded aboard the transport vehicle next to the other new conscripts who would become my family, my friends, and my brothers. After all, up unti lthe transport had rolled up, I had been a active member of a subversive element. The ride was quick, And we soon left the residential areas and moved into the city's industrial sector, closer to our destination. We beheld a forest of watch towers linked together with fences and topped with automated spotlights and kenetic turrets, which could make the man next to you into a puddle before you had time to react, So I had been told. I nudged the person next to me as we drew closer, he started and whispered, "What'du want? "
"Whats that?"
"Dunno. But I would really give a real long thought about shutting up. There used to be three more of us. I think they- "
Just then someone I hadn't noticed stood up and whistled. He then proceeded to bark order's in such a fashion that I assumed he must be a instructor. "Alright, as soon as the gate drops, you will form ranks six deep! Any and all non-compliance will not be accepted!" I noticed then that the dark foreboding structure I had seen earlier was now directly ahead and becoming much bigger at each passing second.
As soon as we entered the gates I noticed several issueing stations one for paperwork, one for clothing, and one for basic issue. At that point, the tailgate of our vehicle dropped with a loud bang. We all jumped out of the transport while the instructor bellowed and pushed us, and forced us into six deep ranks. An Instructor noticed a conscript that was slightly out of line with the others and advanced on the unlucky boy, pulling out a short thick baton which, as the instructor lifted it, suddenly became a light blue shaft of glowing energy, the instructor brought the baton down on the new recruit and the courtyard of the Fortress suddenly became filled with the screaming of the boy struck with the baton, the boy collapsed and the instructor put the baton away and began kicking the conscript yelling "form into your rank!" The conscript slowly forced himself upright and into his rank as other instructors circled like vultures around the rest of us. Nobody else fell out of rank.
After we had stood at attention for what seemed like hours, a instructor wearing a camoflaged combat suit walked stalked out of one of the central buildings.
"I am Lt. Colonel Rocha." as he spoke he inspected us, walking around us and through our ranks, " Welcome to the service of you country!" He walk out of our ranks and stood in front of us. "You are the newest group of men who will have the honor of defending your country from those who wish to destroy it. You will soon join your fellow men and women in the preservation of your nation, "For the next generation!" I wish you well." He then returned inside the building he emerged from.
After the Lt. Colonel had returned inside, We were directed toward each station, asked our information, and then pushed and shoved toward the barracks and told to stay at attention until told otherwise. Four hours later the command was given to form into 4 teams of 40 men each. We were then ordered to march 30 miles in 7 hours or we wouldn't be fed that night. After about 10 miles I noticed that the houses were thinning and that the instructor's gave no visible intention of slowing down. It wasn't anything to be overly concerned about since we traveling in a group. Alone however, traveling in the wasteland was a death sentence.
The rough traveling claimed some of the recruits, I'll never forget the look of one who had broken his ankle. As the instructor's forced us to keep moving, One of them yelled back to the wounded conscript, "If you can manage to survive long enough to get back to base, your rations are revoked!"
As we ran, I ended up with the recruit I had talked to on the transport. He remembered me, and as we ran, we talked to each other. He told me that his name was Jonathan White, and that before this he hadn't seen a roof over his head for 5 months. As we reached the 28th mile marker, a transport truck drove in front of our column and deposited arms, ammunition, and one instructor.
I was temporarily issued a rifle, along with a old L-75 sidearm and some rusted ammo. The rifle was marked "M-371 Anti-Material" by a small paper card just below the rifle and looked like it had been well used for many, many, years. The reciever was bent, the stock was chipped, The trigger guard was melted so much that it was almost impossible to fit my finger around the trigger, and something in the scope rattled. Then, Just as I picked the Rifle up, the instructor waved us in and said "Alright, Listen up! There is food and rest waiting for you inside the house ahead. Only problem, some non-combatant militia members took it over. Take'em out."
The sun was shining as we walked towards the house. We were hoping that they had already left. That there woudn't be any rear guard. And that we'd come upon a empty house. That image quickly dissolved as the man right next to me hit the ground without his head. As his blood poured onto the ground two more men were felled in similar manner before we realized what was happening. As we scrambled to get something between us and the house, we started hearing the heavy thumping of a heavy machine gun. I heard one of the men Yell, "Non-coms my ass!" just before a rifle fired grenade struck him in the chest and dissolved him, and the two men next to him in a fiery explosion leaving behind only small scraps of what, moments before, had been three men. At that point I looked around the snow drift I had hidden behind and looked down the scope of my weapon. I was accustomed to firearms after living as long as I had on the streets but with a weapon of this precision I was a out of my league. The sounds of combat and death around me, I looked through the scope and saw a man peeking out of a second story window. I laid the reticule above his head as he lean out of the window and started firing torward some of my fellow trainees. I fired. And the round sailed two feet higher than the mans head, heartlessly melting the plastic roofing above him. The man dived back into the room out of sight, And I felt several rounds go past my head in retaliation from his comrades and crawled back out of sight, hoping that another rifle grenade wasn't heading toward me.
the others in my group began assaulting the house, which by now had been riddled with holes, both big and small. and the bullets began to stop. I caught up with Jonathan just as his team, The third one in, was about to enter and sweep the rooms with the other teams. The man who had taken charge told us to check the ground floor. So two other men, Jonathan, and I, fruitlessly searched each room while shots rang out above us. About twenty minutes later, the house had been secured. we were all about to bed down at once, but we realized that the militants might've been just a scout group For a larger force. so we organized about a third of us to post guards, which after a minute or two of argument from the ones on watch first, we did. No one slept that night though.
The next morning I was told to take my turn on watch. As I climbed through the levels of the house, I glanced into the room where we had moved the bodies Of the "Non-combatants". I noticed after a while that they were all of conscription age, and that they had all been using weapons similar to our own. At that point, I became extremely nervous and backed out of the room and took my place at my appointed position. A south window on the top floor, staying about 4 feet back from the window, to avoid being silhouetted by anyone outside. A couple hours later a shout went up from the west window as everyone raced to the positions that had been outlined when we had talked about guard duty the night before. I was one of the "lucky" ones I saw the group of armored vehicles stop in front of our house, when they did, Lt. Colonel Rocha jumped out of the lead vehicle and walked closer to the house, "All right boys, Pack it up, time to come home." he then walked back to his vehicle and closed the hatch behind him. Everyone was loaded into the vehicles and as we were returning Colonel Rocha's voice came through speakers into our ears, "Not bad gentlemen, Not bad at all. Training group B was weak. Through weeding them out you have proven your strength."
I had always heard rumors of the unconventional training techniques used in training new conscripts, but had always confided in the hope that they were just that. Rumors. This confirmation otherwise, scared me. The lengths the people above me would go to ensure dominance over our neighbors.
As we were riding back to the barracks, I was glad that I had survived my first days of training. Although I was still jittery because of the adrenaline from seeing the convoy approach the house earlier. And the fact that our company commander had ordered us to kill our fellow conscripts, I was just happy with being alive.
(HC: #23-423-8642-2 ///STKHLM
After several weeks of continuous training, The remaining members of training group B Were dispersed among the companies of the 768th. Jonanthan Was assigned to Fox Company's 1st Platoon As a Tier 1 Operator. Due to my natural affinity for long-range weapons I was attached to Charlie Company's 4th Platoon, 2nd Squad, as a close support marksman. At the time our southern border was contested by the "F.U.P." Or " Free United Peoples. A loosely organized group of bandits and outcasts.
They had become increasingly daring over the last couple months, and because of that our battalion, the 768th, had been deployed south, to counter the steady northern advance of the F.U.P. On the night of the 13th of June, around 2200 hours, we were told to report to the S-4(* Supply Sergeant) to get our standard issue equipment.Once I had been issued my bedroll, permanent uniform, HK-278/9, (Just a standard HK-278 Plasma Cell Assault rifle with a x6 optics enhancing scope.) and a P-61 Sidearm And my other necessary Items, (Battle pack, MRE's, Storage Duffel, Etc.) I Trotted across the staging ground, really just a big open space just inside of the walls of Fort 425, to my assigned tent. When I finally got to my it, My tentmate was already asleep, so I stowed my gear under my cot and tried to get as much sleep as I could before what I expected to be a very early wake-up.
4 Hours Later I was kicked awake by my surly bunkmate. The 4th was being ordered on a Sector Clearing Mission. We were to be inserted low and fast, just north of a small F.U.P. camp. Roughly 30 Klicks north, So That we were in position to ambush the camp as it moved north, into the NWC's territory. We were be flown in on 4 UH-161's 24 men a VTOL(* Vertical Take off and Landing Variable Engine pitch Aircraft. Most notably used during the 2064-2127 Eurasian wars.) I was issued 175 Rounds for my rifle and ordered to the second VTOL.
Should have grabbed more. About 5 Klicks out of our target area we started taking ground fire. And not Small caliber stuff either, Big, fat, high-velocity Kinetic Rounds Flew through the air, Plasma Shells burst all around us Showering us with hot Globs of high-grade Plasma that could burn through a man in 20 seconds. Way more shit than intel said the F.U.P. should've had. 2 Klicks out we lost a VTOL. A kinetic shell got lucky and smacked through its left fan. The pilot Had been trying to avoid the enemy flak and had flown straight into it. We had been Ordered to Key Into the Vtol Tac Channel Through our headsets. As soon as the VTOL was hit the Chaos Exploded into the Headsets.
"B-B 3 is Down! I repeat, Black Bird 3 is down! Heavy Contact in L.Z!"
" B-B 2, this is B-B 1, Standby For CAS Request!"
"B-B 4, Break right!"
"Requesting JTAC Intervention!"
"All Black Bird elements, deploy Combat flaps!"
"Black Bird 1, this is Echo 1 Actual, Two R-86 Fighters are on station under callsign "Raider", 4 GCO's Per plane.
"Raiders 1 & 2 Inbound To attack, 60 secs, Out."
"Roger Cleared hot, Weapons Free."
"Raider 1 Ingressing to Target!"
"Raider 2 is in the POP!"
"Raiders 1 and 2 off safe, all away."
While this Was Going on We Received Orders To Continue to the L.Z. and as we Sped toward our destination, Raiders 1 & 2 Our Close Air Support, Sped by, Dropping two GCO's (Ground Clearing Ordnance Or Gecko's ), On the Enemy Below.
"Raiders 1 & 2 are Winchester, RTB."
But The Flak Kept Coming, Reaching out to Touch and Consume the VTOls in their Fiery Embrace. As we Continued To the L.Z. a Burst of Plasma Slamed into the Side of the VTOL I was in. It Melted off a Vectoring Thruster Mounted on the Left Wing, As the VTOL Began To Roll Wildly To the Right, the Pilots Started To panic,
"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, Black Bird 2, We are hit Hard, port vectoring thruster is unresponsive, Preparing For emergency hard insertion, Beacon is active on EHF Band, Oh God, Were not gunna make it!!"
We tried to get into position In the troop hold. The jump light went red, then green. The outer door of the VTOL slid back, And those of us in position were tipped back in our pods and fast inserted down at about 300 Feet with the massive explosion of the release bolts and the sound of our ears popping. Those who weren't were just plain unlucky. 20 seconds after the 11th pod was inserted, another kenetic shell hit the spine of the VTOL sending the wreckage flipping into the ground.
Being as low to the ground as we were, I Hadn't expected many casualties until we hit the ground and began to push towards the enemy Flak emplacements. We lost 3 pods during the drop, two collided with each other mid-air, one was hit by a kenetic shell. Due to the odd angle that the VTOL was at when our pods were launched, we landed in a 50 yard line. Again, due to the angle at which we were launched, the pods skipped across the ground like a stone across a lake. My pod hit a small knoll and half buried itself.
As I tried to find the hatch release, I could hear the other pods landing, their occupants emerging, taking and returning fire, and attempting to regroup. It took me over 2 minutes to kick that damn hatch open. By the time I got out of that cylindrical death trap, most of my platoon had already regrouped, and was starting to push slowly towards this unknown enemy's flak postions. I ran to Where my squad was clustered just as they were about to enter a flak emplacement. As we moved into positions around the 20 foot wide emplacement, the sound of the AA was deafening, pounding my ear drums unmercilessly, so much so that the sound of the grenade that one of the troopers threw over the sandbag wall and into the pit went almost unnoticed. as we vaulted over the wall and into the pit, I began watching for movement, Anything to give me a couple seconds edge.
Once we were over the edge, we beheld a great hulking machine of war, a anti air emplacement like no other. This monster stood about 20 feet high, with 4 massive legs half buried in the dirt while it's quad barreled plasma cell cannon spewed fiery death into the night sky above. since we hadn't been spotted yet, one of the troopers unstrapped a A-93 DE-AP(delayed explosion, armor piercing.) launcher from his back webbing and fired straight at the center of the vehicle. it disappeared in a flash of fire and smoke, Pieces of it rained down on us as it's twisted hulk groaned to the ground. after making sure that the crew was dead.
When nobody showed up, we proceeded towards the continuing fire fight raging ahead of us, What had been thought to be a Milk run mission had turned into a Massive meeting engagement with a unknown enemy. Because of that, the rest of Charlie Company Was Being Inserted 25 klicks East of the inital Contact Point along with the 768th's Armored Battalion, Dog Company (Light Mechanized.) As we advanced South to link up with the rest of Charlie Company, Another stricken Transport Vtol Dropped from the sky without it's left wing. As they tried to Launch the troop pods, one of the pods failed to detach and, true to design, waited the full 4 seconds until rocket ignition. The VTOL's transport bay instantly exploded. As the flaming wreck hurtled towards the ground, The Pilots tried to launch The pods Before the VTOL, Pods and all Hit the ground. Only two pods were lauched before the failed pod's rockets burned into the troop compartment. None of us saw where either landed.
After walking for several minutes Pfc.Sean Suggested we stop and check our bearings In the cover of a group of coniferous trees overlooking a large drop-off . Cpl.Emerson Gave us the O.K. and told PV. Merril and Pfc. Kinney to set up security. As Spc.Koch , Myself, and Cpl.Emerson Checked Our bearings Pv. Merrill Suddenly Motioned us over, Motioned us to be quiet, and pointed over the edge. A endless sea of lights moving Toward the engagment site. Tanks, light Mechanized, Troop carriers. All moving into the area on a massive scale. As soon as we realized the scale of the Movement on the other side of the drop-off Emerson immediately ordered us to back away from the edge and to seal our combat Suits.
"Alright, back. Seal 'em. Kinney, call in the contacts. Edwards, Take Merrill, watch 'em, no surprises eh?" As We moved back to the Edge of the dropoff Pv. Kinney began Calling in to Charlie Company's Command post.
"Wizzard 1-1, This is Kiwi 1-1 Over."
" Go ahead Kiwi 1-1."
"Heavy assumed contact at gridline... Kilo 2-3. Requesting strikes on contact. over."
"Roger Kiwi 1-1, Guru 3-4 is on station, Tac 4. Wizzard 1-1 out."
As Kinney called in the strike, Me and Pv. Merril watched as machines of war lumbered into position. Mobile flak cannons, assault ships, armored vehicles, and enemy artillery positions continuously lumbered into view. as me and pv. Merill Laid watching This Unimaginable advance of men and machine and supply, Enemy Air support began to streak overhead. First it was the small points of light That meant escort fighters, Then the gigantic shadows of the support bomber glided past silently searching, finding, and killing, The members of Charlie and Dog Companies. It was a Haunting sight. Well, until Emerson told us, "Were pulling out! Foward lines are about to break, were headed back to the main lines."
Kinney was still on the radio as we fell back,
"Guru 3-4, Gridline Kilo 2-3-9 is now clear of friendlies. Break. Break. Wizzard 1-1 this is Kiwi 1-1 we are Oscar-Mike toward gridline Charlie 2-1-7. How copy?"
" Wizzard 1-1, 5 by. Out."
We ran. Oh how we ran.
We ran when the Foward lines broke As if no one was there.
We Ran when The tree's exploded in front of us and above us From the enemy artillery, As if The trees themselves conspired against us.
A unknown Enemy. A enemy Which attacked without warning or provocation. A enemy Of such a massive scale that for the first time in 30 years The North Western Confederation went to war. real, full scale, multi-national, armed conflict. We weren't ready. No-one was.
As we ran through the frozen landscape, Shells burst, The ground rocked and the sky screamed. Emerson Had Merril on point as Fitz went on rear security. As we ran Kinney Screamed into his handset. Although, That didn't really last long. "-ru 3-3! Lead is
g-ne, no beac-n! L-ft tank -it! Sig-ting Sof-ware Has failed! E.R.E. is Dep-oying! Ejec-! " " Corporal! Air's Gone!". " Raise command! Kinney, Patch it through my comms!" "done!" "Kiwi Actual to Wizzard 1-1, Over." "Send it." " Air Support is gone! We are Two klicks out from Company HQ and still receiving enemy ranged fire! Request sitrep ASAP, Over!" "Kiwi Actual this is Wizzard Actual, Enemy Contacts are within 1 klick Of 768th's battalion Headquarters position, You are now 6 klicks inside the DMZ. Charlie And Dog Companies previous postions are overrun. The 1st NWC Army's lines are marked on your Hud, Godspeed. Wizzard Actual out." Spc. Fitzpatrick swapped me into his postion while he moved up the line to talk to Emerson.
"Orders sir?"
"Slow it down, we take this slow and careful."
"Yessir."
As our sudden and unknown enemies streaked overhead, and stalked the ground around us, we made our way, step by step, toward the rapidly forming defenses of the enemy. As we approached the now drawn battle lines, Artillery salvos from both sides had begun to pour onto both sides of the line. Emerson keyed his comm,
"Next time a particularly big salvo hits their lines were going through."
We had hidden ourselves in the particularly shitty cover of two trees that had fallen on top of each over. These two trees were about 200 yards from the enemy lines. Over open ground, Through enemy rear guard, over the no-man's land alive with bursting shells and plasma fire. Only to get to the other side and risk getting hit by our own forces as well.
"Hell no."
"Private Merrill, I will drag you across there by your feet- Alright that's it! Go!"
And suddenly I was charging an enemy forward base along with 5 other troopers. Through 500 yards no doubt full of mines and hellish contraptions devised to kill And definitely, utterly, devoid of any cover.
As we ran, "That last salvo must've been a Gecko!" Emerson Yelled over his shoulder. Since we were still running and not dead in a puddle of our own fluids, The last bombing run must've hit a power source or killed them all. But judging From past experience, the latter probably wasn't the case. Wishful thinking gets you killed.
As we ran the last 50 yards, I didn't think I was going to live through this, At 40, I couldn't believe I had let him talk me into this, at 30, I wondered when they were going to Kill us, at 10, I wondered where they all were, and at 5 I looked for suitable cover, knowing that at this piticular moment I wasn't going to die. We started to move through the lines, which were hastily dug foxholes covered with small tree branches And surround by auto turrets. All of which had their power knocked out in the last barrage. Still scared the shit out of us. All it would take is one of those to reboot and it'd take all of us out before you could even blink. As we moved through the left side of the encampment, There was nothing. No patrols. No guards. Nothing.
Merrill wanted to check in the foxholes. Emerson ignored him. Sean told him about Booby traps. When we reached the other side of the camp without incident, Emerson turned to Kinney,
"Call for Sitrep, Let them know were about to cross the D.M.Z"
" Wizzard 1-1, This is Kiwi 1-1, we are within sight of friendly lines, 300 yards from, how copy?"
"Kiwi 1-1, this is Wizzard 1-1, Come on home, Were expecting you."
"Roger Wizzard 1-1"
"Alright, Lets get going." Said Emerson as he gave a hand up to Kinney who had been struggling with our heavy TB-8 radioset.
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