One Man’s War Day One

Captain Rick scanned the horizon.

From this vantage point he could see much of the wide expanse of what used to be a peaceful place, a valley. Funny, but if things had been different this God forsaken plot of property may have become an ideal vacationing spot, or a tourist attraction. Now though seems it was only destined to be remembered for the lives that had been lost on it‘s red escarpments. It was sure to be known as a sad place, visited only by soldiers of old who still reminisced about their buddies and still pondered the question WHY? Why had they survived while so many of their friends had died?

It was a question asked by most of the living that had been through fierce battles and war. The commander felt no different, well no need to think on it now. The battle wasn’t over yet.

The captain brought his field glasses back up to his eyes. Over there, on that ridge was positioned the observation outpost of the Alliance Air Command. He had been ordered to take that position the following day. That order had brought a feeling of dread to his tormented brain. He had an uneasy vision that many of his troops would die taking that fortified position, and he knew that many of his soldiers would be thinking the same. It was a mission that had to be accomplished though. From that vantage point the Alliance had total command of the entire valley. They called in air strikes from that position that had spoiled every counter attacks the independent army had launched.

That hilltop had to become browncoat real estate.

Captain Rick “Blister” Broussard looked over at his battle wore detail crowded into the small confines of Coppers Canyon. One hundred and ten meager souls were left out of a command of six hundred and thirty. As the command leadership had fallen the duty of authority had been passed down the officer ranks until it had reached him. A command over so many he had never wanted, but never the less had obtained. He had done well though, as word from the Independence Brass had reach him. His dwindling group of freedom fighters had drawn enough attention away from the remaining bulk of the Independent armys fighting in the other gullies and canyons that he had been recognized and been awarded the Independence Medal of Valor and the GUP award. Not the ultimate commendations for heroism, but close. He would return them all though, along with any promotion appointed him in the future just to get back the lives of the soldiers he’d lost.

The past few days had been like living in hell!

Today though, had been a good day, only twenty casualties and half of those weren’t serious. Those soldiers would live to see another morning, well maybe. The Alliance air assaults usually came at night. They sent out skiffs under cover of darkness because they knew that most of the browncoat army’s thermal and sensory seeking weapons had been captured or destroyed. But the freedom fighters still had some antiaircraft weaponry. Rocket launchers and RPG’s of old, and they still had the talent to use them and use them effectively. Sergeant Casey was a masterful soldier at taking out those flying little troublesome nats. That soldier could knock out a buzzards eye from a light year away it seemed, it was best for the purplebellies that they did use the cover of darkness to fly and stay alive.

Captain “ Blister” thought about his home and family. He had been born not of wealthy folk, but not of poor either. His parents resided on Bellerophon and his father was employed as a maintenance technician for the big island communities that floated in it‘s beautiful blue skies. He was six years old when his little brother had been born and Bud Broussard had signaled the last of his linage. The birth allotment by Rick’s parents had been reached. Two children per household was the rule. Certain laws had been put forth by a faction of the government allowing for only two children per married couple. It didn’t seem right but as a youngster Rick was not concerned with the law. He was more interested in battle and the conflict of war.

WAR! Rick had always been astonished by the stress and strain and adventure of conflict. He had studied the wars of worlds past. The battles of the old “Earth that Was” had always fascinated him. He studied the conflict between the opposing sides of North and South in a country called America. He studied the battles of Europe, the Pacific. He studied the warfare of bows and arrows all the way up to modern button pushing technology. Now though, after experiencing the bloody reality of war himself, he was of the mind never to pick up such a book again.

Captain Rick thought about the past. Of what he’d left behind. In his mid twenties he had left the comforts of his parents home and made a life for himself in “Gratitude” , a small farming community on a settlement moon in the forth quadrant. Rick had become somewhat of a skilled carpenter. He had built his own place and started his own farm. In the beginning it had been tuff. More than once had he decided to just give up, but persistence and a bit of luck had paid off and his endeavor had become a moderate success. He had been looking forward to settling down and beginning his own family when the rumors of war had begun. There had been much debate about it in those early times. The rim planets had basically been on their own for so long that some of the rim world leadership had questioned why they needed Core Control at all? There was debate whether the gathering rim and outer worlds should secede from the powerful inner controlled planets. It didn’t help that an ugly incident had started at Rim Junction on the planet of Persephone. Farmers and ranches there had been forced to depopulate their land after the hillside bluffs were found to have an abundance of precious metals. Some of the leading voices of that planet weren’t about to let the government step in and make claim to something they felt was rightfully theirs.

That was only the first thing to happen, there were many others. Rick remembered in communication waves home to his parents that Bellerophon of course, had basically decided to support the Unificationist, and Colleen, his first true love,.…….well her folks were also onboard with the Unified Faction.

Colleen Carentan, a twenty three year old beauty, and ever a vision of grace and intellect if there was one. Colleen was the daughter of a wealthy politician back on Bellerophon. Rick had met her at organizational banquets and the like. She had taken a shinning to the handsome young man and on more than one occasion the young Rick had been able to steal a kiss from the graceful debutante.

They though, were of separate worlds. Rick soon found out that her father was not pleased with his daughter’s affections toward the working class citizen. With some defiance from the young woman her papa had won out and Colleen was forbidden to see the Broussard boy post some future time when he had made a name for himself, and also acquired a bank account to match. Even that may not have helped.

Well, at this juncture the commander was making a name for himself, though it may not be the name Colleen’s Alliance affiliated father might deem to be with the right army.

Commander Rick “ Blister” brought the binoculars down from his eyes. Those thoughts of home were all behind him now. The visions of that fair lady and his loving family were but a thought to be pushed back into a reign of his memories until a more peaceful situation was what the Captain found himself in.

Captain Rick “Blister” pulled down from the dusty hill rise upon which he‘d been laying, he slid down into the well trampled gulch below.

“ Corporal Warren!”

“ Sir?”

“ Get with your sergeant and confirm the assault on “Baker’s Point” tomorrow!”

“ Yes sir!” The war hardened corporal moved off.

“ Sergeant Casey!”

“ Sir?”

“ Post your command on that ridge and blast any non friendly you see flying with their ass sticking out, got that?”

“ My pleasure sir! Alright private Kyle, private Gore, up on that hill! Blast a new asshole in anything you see flying!” She commanded.

Rick had to smile. He had noticed the young soldier, and become interested in more than just her ability to command and take charge. Maybe one day they could………….well he would think about that later.

“ Sergeant! Lets make sure they are unfriendlies to be sure, right!” He added with a grin.

“ Sir, no problems sir!”

Sergeant Jocelyn Casey gathered her crew and they made their way up to the dirt ridge that Captain Broussard had just descended. She had every intention of following her commanders orders to the letter. Jocelyn had been a sweet girl, and she still was, but she was also a battle hardened soldier. Ever since her brother had been killed on the frigid moon of Bastone had she been looking for a little promised payback against the Alliance……..and, she’d pretty much delivered on that promise.

Captain “Blister” was more than just a superior officer to her. Deep down there was a pool of feelings she held for the captain that went a lot deeper than just her respect for him as a leader. She hid condition well, hoping that one day her achievements would bring more from his lips than just “ Job well done Sgt. Casey!”.

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Captain Rick “Blister” Broussard walked down the observation hill to a point where many of his troops sat gathered waiting on their afternoon grub. He positioned himself among his fellow warriors. A cook brought over a bowl of Brown Pea Soup to him.

“ Thank you.” He whispered. The captain looked around at his battered, rag tag assembly of troops. Each individual carried a respect for their commander witnessed by very few officers. He fought with them, bled with them, suffered with them and would die with them it need be, they all knew it.

“ Blister” was a nickname given to Lieutenant Rick Broussard during the struggles of the Strahovski Delta. He had fired his weapon so much that at the end of the battle was the only time he’d become aware of blisters that had formed on his hands. He had been promoted to the rank of captain after that battle and the stories of how he’d “Blistered” the enemy into submission had grown into something unworldly and a bit humorous to him. The legend of “ Blister” Broussard was something that gave him but little pause, it did however, seem that each batch of new browncoat recruits had head the stories and were in awe of the commander, “ Well” , he shrugged, “.……that was for the fantasy filled Lucas history books. Let the writers of such pros make up what they will, this was reality, and his duty now was to defeat the Alliance and get out as many of his command as possible.” He felt old, and at twenty nine years of age he’d witnessed enough death and destruction for ten lifetimes.

“ Sergeants we will be assaulting “Baker’s Point tomorrow!” He spoke between bites of gruel. “ They know we want it. I’m afraid a lot of us won’t be coming back. You are a brave band of soldiers. Some of the finest I’ve been proud to serve with. Tomorrow WE WILL give our brothers and sisters back that hill. And We WILL see to it that as many of our fellows make it out of here alive! Is that understood by all?”

There was a resounding , “ Yes Sir” among the troops sitting with him.

End Day One