Battle of Sherwood Valley

[Thanato]

Battle for Sherwood Valley

A tall man stood in the middle of a semicircle, surrounding him were nearly 150 men and women. The man spoke with a pronounced accent, a Canadian one. “Alright, SAS Recce shows the Republican forces are about three hours away. That means we have two hours to finish both the front and fall back positions. Remember, its just us. The closest reinforcements are over an hour away, good thing the SBS and the SAS are available eh? Now get to work. Dismissed!” the company dispersed most headed towards a line of trenches and foxholes, another small group headed towards an incomplete line of sandbags and other obstacles.

A soldier walked up to the man who gave the speech. “So sir, do you think we have a hope in hell at holding this position and repelling them?”

“Well lieutenant, or rather Rick, that is what we are going to find out, eh?”

Rick was now looking out at the men and women who were about to face a battle, that some of them will not survive. “Sir, can I be frank?”

“Sure, wont deny a man what might be his last words.”

“What the hell is headquarters thinking? Sending us, a company, to do the job of a bloody battalion! Its all ******* nuts, if you ask me sir.”

“Ya, I brought that up when we were ordered to this place, apparently they need the rest of the battalion to defend two crossroad towns and we were the only ones available to take this job on. But! To make up for it, the sent two SBS boats and four planes from the SAS to provide cover just in case. But we are Guards, the oldest unit in the Dominion, formed and commanded by Tiron himself during the first war, so we will hold this line, at all coast. Even if that means we have to die killing everyone of those bastards.” At this time Captain Petrov's attention was drawn to a silhouette on the horizon.”***** scout.”

“What!?”

“Republic Scout, ridge seventy-five degrees right. Someone! SHOOT!” There was a load crack in the air, followed by the silhouette collapsing limp on the ground, “I want a squad to check it out. Get corporal Wilson,”

A small thinly shaped woman came running up, “Emily, reporting as ordered sir.”

“Take this note back to HQ, tell them we have made contact. And tell them we will need reinforcements ASAP. Copy?” He handed her a piece of paper, which he had just finished writing on.

After placing it in a pack around her neck she acknowledge him and headed towards a horse. She soon took off atop the horse towards a road, which lead behind the sandbag walls and off into a trail.

By this time a runner from the squad reported back. “Sir, we have discovered a map, along with some notes, detailing our positions and numbers, but other then that nothing of value. However sir he was carrying a PF weapon, from the books looked like an M16.”

“Ok, I want you to strip him of anything of value to the war effort, bring his weapon, ammo, rank tag, anything, except his uniform. Understood?”

“Yes sir!” the young soldier said with a grin just before he took off, back the way he came.

“Ok, double time on the defence, it looks like the Ruckers are closer then we thought.” He paused for a moment, contemplating the situation at hand. All of a sudden he motioned for a man to come forwards, he was carrying a large metallic pack.

The man came running up, “Sir?”

“Corporal Henderson, I need you to call in a recce flight. I have a suspicion that the Opfor is closer then we previously calculated. See if we can get a ground striker. Tell em to try and shake it up a bit.”

“Aye,” the Corporal went down on a knee took off a large rectangular pack and started turning knobs and switches. He then proceeded to pick up a hand set, which was attached to the side, and talk into it. “This is two Guards Romeo three Bravo Charlie Fox, requesting recce flight Sierra position, over.” Soon after this there was a puzzled look on his face. He took the handset away from his ear, “Sir, they are denying the request for a Recce flight stating that they don't have enough fuel.”

“Give me that thing.” the Captain grabbed the handset from the Corporal, “This is Captain Petrov of the Guards Rifles Two Regiment. I am telling you that we need a Recce flight. . . No you are not hearing me. . . Damn it son, do you know what you are talking about? I have nearly 200 men and women here and we are going into battle with out the proper information. . . SON OF A BITCH!” he threw the handset on the ground.

On the horizon was the group of men who went to investigate the dead scout, however they were now running, running extraordinarily fast down the hill towards the line. “RUCKERS!” yelled the lead soldier. Ruckers was a derogatory slang term for Republicans.

They ran past the lines, all but one jumped in a trench, he just kept on running until he got to Petrov. “Sir, Ruckers!”

“What!?” the Captain paused for a moment, he looked around and yelled, “MEN GET INTO THE LINE!” He now looked back down at the Corporal, “Ok, how many?”
“Hundreds, maybe a thousand. Couldn't get a good estimate, trees.”

“How far out?”

“At least 500 meters, could see them down the road, don't think they spotted us.”

At this time Henderson came running up with the handset in his hand, “Sir, SBS states that they have spotted Republican forces moving towards our position, they have called in one SAS plane to slow them down. Guess its to give us enough time to get into the line. Also they want to talk to you, sir.”

The Captain takes the handset “Yes. . . Missile boats did you say, thought it was just Gun boats? . . . Understood sir, but” Petrov begins to whisper, “what if we can't hold the line? . . . yes sir.” he hands the handset back to Henderson. “Ok get in your positions and prepare to defend your self.”

The sound of horses and the banging of metal could be heard on the horizon. At this sound Petrov stands at the edge of his trench, “Look around, look at the men and women around you, rely on them, trust them, and we will live to fight another day.” after that he jumped into his trench and put on his helmet.

Popping above the horizon was the flag of the Republic. Reminiscent to the flag of the united states before the fall. It contained six horizontal bars, three red and three white. The top three bars were shortened by a large square blue patch which inside contained a white star.



Malcolm was in the same trench as his friend Kyle. They both saw the flag on the horizon, and they saw the marching soldiers which appeared soon after, that was the signal they were ready to fight in their first battle. Today would be the day they would be baptized by fire. Their guns steaded by their hands, their eyes looking down the sights, waiting for the order to fire.

Malcolm's hands were shaking, he had never killed someone before this day. He was a buck private fresh out of training, as most of the company was. But on this day, a day which will live on infamously in the livings minds, he would transcend the barrier between man and soldier. He tried to steady the shacking of his rifle, but it was to no avail.

The defence was divided into three sectors, 1st platoon held the center, the road, second platoon was on the right, near the forest, and third platoon was on the left, near the water. They had six machine guns, two for each platoon. They were all placed in the trenches with a small barrier of sandbags around them.

In front of Malcolm's positions was a long barrier of razor wire, it was meant to hook into the flesh of the enemy and keep them their. There are stories about the second war were people got riped the shreds after getting hooked onto these tools of battle. But today, there was vary little razor wire being used, they would have to quell the attack with bullets.

To the Ruckers the defences must of looked interesting, sparingly placed razor wire and trenches and foxholes filled with men, whom had their rifles pointed in their direction. They were marching down the hill side closer and closer to the Dominion, their had to be at least five hundred Ruckers pouring over the hill, which was still 400 meters away. The column of enemy soldiers was flanked by trees.

The Ruckers closed in, 300 meters out. Malcolm closed his eyes and whispered, “Dad, if you are up there protect me in the coming battle.” All of a sudden there was a shriek, a high pitched whistle. The line opened up with bright flashes as bullets screamed across the field to meet with their targets. The lead ripped through the Ruckers. Blood shot out of the open wounds. Malcolm's rifle launched bullet after bullet towards the now dispatched enemy. They had broke formation as soon as the first line had fallen, they were in the ditches, behind the trees and on the ground.

Malcolm's rifle clicked has his magazine was empty. He yelled to the people around him, “Reloading!” he pressed the magazine release causing the metal box to fall on the ground. He grabbed another one from a canvas pouch, Malcolm smacked it against his helmet and loaded it into his rifle. Pulling back the charging handle he cocked the gun and readied for another bought of firing.

The sound of a piston powered engine could be heard above the gun battle which ensued on the ground. It was a plane, but not one from the SAS. A small propeller driven aircraft appeared above the tree tops coming from the Republican lines. Attached to its wings were two cylindrical objects, bombs.

Malcolm looked up at the coming Rucker plane. “***** not one of ours!” He patted Kyle on the shoulder and pointed at the plane.

“What should we do?” replied Kyle.

A woman, who went through training with Kyle and Malcolm, started shooting at it. She was about 6 meters down the trench. “Shoot it down before it drops those things,”

“Thanks for the tip Kait,” replied Malcolm, as he took aim at the plane. He gently squeezed the trigger back unleashing bullet after bullet towards the enemy plane. At this time an entire section of the trench opened up on the aircraft.

However this was all in vain, very few of the bullets actually hit the airplane and those that did didn't damage it. It kept on flying towards them and it took a moment but both the bombs were dropped. “HOLY ****! GET DOWN!” yelled Corporal Sato, who was a fire team leader. Everyone in the trenches and foxhole dove onto the water muddy ground beneath there feet. Both bombs struck and exploded into gigantic fireballs. One of the bombs struck first platoon killing and wounding an unknown amount of soldiers. The other bomb landed shy of the line and exploded roughly 100 feet shy of third platoon.

Dirt was thrown over Malcolm. He looked up the Ruckers were charging there position. He positioned the rifle but on his shoulder, he looked down the sights, “**** that was close-” he pulled the trigger causing a Republican soldier to collapse onto the ground.

“First Platoon looks ****ed. We have a gap in the line. WERE THE **** IS THE SAS!” Yelled Corporal Sato has he fired his rifle.

“I hear something!” Yelled Kyle over the ensuing gun fire. He continued, “Another Plane!”

“**** thats more then one Kyle.” Remarked Malcolm as he was reloading his rifle. “Sounds like those SAS planes that flew over during Basic!”

Three piston powered fighters flew down low, coming fast just above the tree tops. “FALCONS!” Yelled Kait, as they flew over the line firing there Machine guns, strafing the Ruckers.

The spearhead of the Republican forces were now with in 50 meters of the trench line. They were running as fast as they could to get there, being cut down as they ran. No mater how many Ruckers were killed on the battlefield more just kept popping over the hill.

One of the Falcons released two bombs both fell behind the hill causing two massive explosions, one of which sent a metal turret flying above the hill line. “**** what was that,” Yelled Kait.

“Looks like... some sort... of tank,” Remarked Malcolm as he fired his rifle.

The Falcons were now being to turn around and make another run at it. One of them was lining up perfectly with a large group of Ruckers. Who were charging across no mans land in a large group. Its wings lit up like candles as the four machine guns fired rounds out like a bullet train. Many of the Ruckers were ripped apart.



First platoon was now begging to regain tis defensive positions from the explosion which had killed or wounded half of them. “Were is Corporal Henderson!” Yelled Captain Petrov.

“Unknown sir,” responded a soldier.


“Damn it, someone get me a radio!” Petrov stood up and squeezed off two rounds, both striking and killed enemy soldiers. A man came up, crouched down in the trench with a bloody Radio, “Henderson?”

“Dead sir, the Radio still works though.” replied the soldier.

Captain Petrov knelt down beside the radio, fiddling with the knobs he picked up the bloody handset which stained his hand with the sticky read substance. “This is Captain Petrov of the two Guards Rifles Company Fox. I am requesting Artillery strike at 100 meters south of my position, over. . . Roger that, out.” Petrov but the handset back on the radio and looked at his red stained hand. He muttered to himself “rest in peace Corporal.” He grabbed his rifle and stood up, looking around he rested the end of the rifle on his shoulder and looked around at the chaos. His men and women were getting shot, and shooting. Medics and soldiers were medical training were treating the wounded both in the trenches and out in the open. He looked left to right. He then yelled loud, so loud that people on the far flanks heard him over the planes above and the guns below. “SOLDIERS HOLD THE LINE!”

Republican soldiers, hundreds of them, were now over the hill shooting Petrovs company. This was one of the worst battles Petrov has seen in his long career. Screams were all around him. Burnt flesh was in the air from the explosion, there was no breeze to move the stench away from here.

It was odd, there was no breeze, the air was still and the sun was shinning. If this had been any other day it would have been a beautiful day. But this was a day of death. A day which will live on in there minds for the rest of their lives, no matter how long or short they may be.



Malcolm was tending to his friend who had been grazed by a bullet on his shoulder. “Damn it Mal, get off me. I can do this my self.”

“Fine James, next time you get hit I'll leave you be.” Malcolm grabbed his rifle and popped up above the trench line again firing off two more shots before taking cover. Massive explosions ripped through the ground and air alike. Sending dust, debris, and bodies in all directions. Cheers went up all along the line as more shells were landing in no mans land.

“Christ all mighty,” said one soldier, he continued by saying, “******* RUCKERS!” That soldier continued to fire his rifle.

“**** that must be our Artillery, good job boys.” remarked Kait, who was peering over the parapet. She laughed before lowering herself lower in the trench. “Looks like they are giving them quite the shelling.”


“But sir, with the Artillery. . . But sir. . . Yes sir, I'll give the order,” He threw the radio on the ground. “PULL OUT AND FALL BACK!” Captain Petrov fall back into the trench, resting against the wall.

“Sir? We are retreating?” Asked Master Sargent Young.

“Aye,” replied Petrov, “order from the top. We are to rondevu with Charles, Dog, and Easy companies who are already setting up a line of defence 2km south. The Artillery is going to keep the Ruckers pinned down as we make our way North.” He grabbed his rifle, “Young, bring the radio, lets pull out.”

Petrov got out of the trench, “BRING ALL THE WOUNDED!” Petrov looked down at the dead body of what use to be Private Bridges. “LETS MOVE!”



“Whats going on?” Asked Malcolm.

Corporal Sato grabbed 2 boxes of Machine gun ammo and slung the big gun over his shoulder, “We are pulling out, bring all the ammo, weapons, and equipment you can.”

“What?” A look of confusion caught Malcolm's face.

“Orders from the top, now lets get out of here.” replied Sato.

Malcolm, Kyle, Kait, and everyone also picked up what ever they could carry, some threw wounded over there shoulders, others dragged them while having three to four rifles over there shoulders.

Out of the corner of Malcolm's eye he saw a man holding a burnt body. Malcolm ran over to his side, “Henders?” The man, or rather the boy looked up. Henders was younger then Malcolm, he was 16 just made the age for Military Service. “Henders we have to leave.” Tears flowed from Henders eyes. “Damn it Henders, hes dead, grab your gun and that box of ammo and lets go!” Malcolm got up and ran after the group, carrying four belts of ammo, two boxes of rifle ammo, and his rifle.



It took about five minutes but everyone had pulled out of the line and were now headed as fast as they could towards a trail riddled with foot prints and the tracks of Corporal Emily's horse.



“Lieutenant?” asked Captain Petrov.

“Yes sir?” Replied the officer.

“How many?” Continued Petrov.

“We count seventy-eight standing, forty-two wounded.”

“Jesus, . . . thirty,” remarked Petrov in a somber voice.

The two of them hurried down the trail with the troops, their day was just getting started.



Down the trail a Medic was working on one of the wounded, trying to stop the bleeding on a badly maimed arm and leg. “Your going to be alright Private, just keep talking,” said the friendly voice. “Where were you born?”

The soldier on the stretcher was in a grate amount of pain. The soldier was bleeding profusely from wounds he sustained when the Rucker plane dropped the bomb which landed on First Platoon. “Big Tate's... Farm,” The soldier was on the verge of unconsciousness, and death.

The medic immediately noticed, she was pressing hard on his upper thigh as a large piece of shrapnel hit him and tore open a portion of his leg, luckily it mist the artery, but it was still gushing torrents of blood. “Stay awake soldier! You will have plenty of time to sleep when we get to the aid. . . ,” the soldiers eyes stared blankly towards the sky and his breathing stopped. She felt his pulse, “****! Sir, Private Inglas is gone,” She closed his eyelids then grabbed the clean bandages.

“You did everything you could Corporal Archer, just treat the ones that will make it. We'll let 'god' sort out the rest.” the Lieutenant said while walking just ahead of the stretcher bearer.

She grabbed her supplies and moved onto the next patient, a man on a stretcher just behind the one that Inglas died on. “Hmm, broken leg with wood splinters,”



The company was a good kilometers from their former positions by Sherwood when Corporal Emily Wilson came riding up, she passed the troops who gathered on the one side of the trail to let the small lady on the big horse through. When she got to Petrov near the end of the long line, she stopped the horse with a skid, “Sir, Battalion has sent reinforcements they are currently setting up at the Humphrey Farms, 2 kilometers down the trail.” She jumped off the horse and landed both feet on the ground.

Petrov looked at her, “What kind of Re-enforcements are we looking at Corporal?”

“Well sir, Echo and Bravo Companies, as well as a few armoured units, as well as some guns, sir.” She was walking beside him, with the rains to the horse in her left hand.

“Ok Corporal. I want you to go back to the position, tell them Seventy-eight men from Charles Company will be on there way ETA 20 minutes. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Emily jumped back atop her horse.

“Oh, and Corporal Wilson, tell them we will be fighting.”

“Yes sir,” And with that the horse took off down a narrow path, with Emily at the rains.

To Be Continued. . .

~Thanato