Pershing wondered how this fight could go on any longer. The bitch of it was that as badly as he wanted it won and over with, he almost couldn't believe how well they'd done so far, given that nothing up to this point had gone as planned. The Confederate counter attack had stalled out all around, left, right, and centre. The CS and their DS counterparts had been nearly stationary and lobbing shells at one another for nearly a day now. A war of attrition was not what he wanted.
"We've got to break out, signal left flank and centre, We merge lines and make one final push, we've got to get through to their rear!"
"Yes sir!" Came MacKenzie's reply over the radio.
He had been told that Field Marshal Theriot was on his way by way of Louisiana, but no sign had as of yet been seen of him save for reports that the Inglish Army had somehow made it's way into south eastern Arkansas, running DS forces out of it, though he didn't know if those reports were factual, as most lines of communication were down in areas that the DS had over run, and the CSSD was still busy trying to gain control over at least some of the DSA's spy satelites, which were no doubt responsible for Custer catching Pershing's army unawares.
Pershing's radio crackled to life. "Sir, we have reports from the left that the Inglo-Scotians are engaging the enemy."
Pershing's stomach lept with jubilation, he exhaled deeply, then pragmatism kicked in. "Confirmation?"
"Affirmitive, sir, I have visual."
A smile which ran nearly ear to ear graced the tired General's face. "Well then, boys, what are we waiting for, All lines, push forward and attack!"
The Confederate tanks lurched out of their entrenchments, finding the DS heavily engaged with the IS forces, the DS managing to stall the Inglish infantry advance momentarily, only to be broken and driven back as their armour was brought to bear full strength, driving them back into the eager sights of the Confederate tank gunners, who showed them no quarter. The centre of the DS line became weak as forces were diverted in futile attempt to stem the CS/IS onlaught on the left.
"They're breaking boys! Time to fuck 'em up!" Pershing yelled to his command division as it began moving at break neck speed through the DS centre line, the Confederate tanks charging down anything in it's path bearing the DS Army insignia, until finally, Pershing's gunner called up to him.
"Sir, no targets in sight, they're retreating! Shall we give chase?"
"Negative, our lines are broken and disorganised, send the message to all units not to pursue. We'll regroup and move into Tennesse once we have done so."
"Yes sir!"
Now overwhelmed, outgunned, and out numbered, the DS Army began to leave Alabama as fast as their tanks and armored vehicles would allow, broken down vehicles were left on the side of the road, the crews hopping a ride on the next vehicle.
Pershing popped open the cupola on his tank, surveying the landscape for the first time that day. Facing him was a Challenger 2 tank, bearing the red "V" which had become synonymous with Inglo-Scotia. The commander of the tank in turn raised his head up out of the tank, looking around briefly before his gaze came to rest on Pershing.
The two men saluted.
