The Tide to the Water Line [1898]

[Eluvatar]

Ærin Anorien Bespaecasi Belaedari.  "The Tide to the Water Line." The War to End War: 1898-1910, 2nd Ed. Tome II: 1898. Annuminas: Winoedund College Press. 1928. Print.

Chapter the first, the Tide to the Water Line.

With the great powers of Ennorath and Pelagea at war, the earth trembled as the mighty Haradrim engines of war leveled the ancient city of Annuminas, destroying the very campus this history has been written in. During those first hours of war, more shells rained upon the millennia old "New City" than had ever fallen in any armed conflict ever before in history. More lives were lost than had been lost in even the worst battles of the Amerikan Civil War, for this was a metropolis of a million souls, and half again as many people, and there was no warning. However, all this carnage did not prevent the Numen Guard from blasting the bridges as the Haradrim skirmishers crossed to scout for the main host. In military history therefore, the famed bombardment fades to the irrelevancy of a pebble so to learn more of it a reader would be advised to review Tome XIV of this history.

With no bridges across the An, the Haradrim Host advanced to the southeast. The eighteenth century fortifications of the northern quarter of Eldalondë were as minor an impediment to the Haradrim as a raspberry bush is to a charging boar. Within two weeks the Haradrim standing army had crossed Eldalondë province and was facing the Eluvataran First Corps entrenched seven kilometers inside the central province of Anor. This was the Haradrim Empire's chance to win the war, and they were prepared to make the attempt.

It is important to realize that the so-called Haradrim Host was hardly Haradrim at all. Of the eighteen divisions present at the Celowindecoewar (Cliff forest) battle, only three were reliable homeland divisions. Seven were [wiki]Suveri[/wiki] levies, and four from the [wiki]Gaean[/wiki] provinces. The remaining four were ianisari, corrupt and therefore ill-equipped. Against the outnumbered [wiki]Edain[/wiki] army however, this host was entirely sufficient. The shallow trenches dug by the Eluvataran Army proved no cover at all against artillery, and the defensive lines broke once the advancing enemy reached them. Knowing the battle was lost, Lieutenant-General SulBenn ordered a retreat. Casualties were severe and morale was abysmal, but improved greatly when the story of Captain Celar Ilium's 192nd Company's daring counterattack became known...

14:23 November 25, 1898; 192nd Company, not far from the An

Celar stared blankly at the smoking crater in front of him, at private Retori, sitting in front of it suddenly silent. He could reach out and touch it.. Mechanically, his hand reached to Retori's neck. Celar jolted back to awareness as the information that he felt no pulse shattered his reverie. He screamed aloud, "OUT OF THE TRENCHES, THEY HAVE OUR RANGE!"

The first sergeant merely shouted the same command, avoiding an unmanning shriek like the captain’s, with expletives decorating the nouns. Glancing at the crater, the sergeant waved the men forward. Celar opened his mouth to gainsay this order, but he closed it as he realized the crater was in fact on the back side of the trench, and the nearly as destructive near-misses had all been behind them.

The decimated company stepped out onto the recently cleared field. Celar sighted a densely wooded hillock just left of center along the tree line and pointed to it. “In there, they can’t see us but we’ll see them coming.”

For several long minutes the company crouched the woods and watched as the trench they’d spent yesterday digging was ravaged by shell after exploding shell. Then, the shells started falling on the near side. Swiftly realizing the change did not bode well for their position, Celar responded with new orders. “Forward!!”

But the company was not fated to leave the hillock. As they began their descent, they bumped into janissaries making the ascent. For a second and a half, mutual confusion reigned. Then, the the forest was filled with the deafening roar of volley after volley of rifle fire. For three minutes, the carnage continued uninterrupted. Then, the remains of the unlucky ianisari platoons fell back in a rout.

Celar was ecstatic, seizing the ornate Haradrim battle standard which had been dropped in the maelstrom and waving it in triumph. He turned to review his company, and saw that where this morning he had led two hundred of the King’s finest (soon may he return), he was now the intrepid officer in charge of seventy odd soldiers, some fifty wounded, and six dozen corpses. As if to underscore the calamity, a runner from SulBenn’s headquarters seized a tree to steady himself and breathe. “The Lieutenant-General instructs all forces to fall back. We’ve lost ground everywhere and must save the army.” He paused. “It took me a while to find you. The other companies of this battalion are probably clearing the crest of the big ridge by now.”

* * *

With the first corps prudently retreating, the Haradrim host resumed its apparently unstoppable advance. Another two weeks saw the the penetration of the province of Romenna. The Eluvataran Army continued to retreat, as though they were squirrels and the Haradrim foxes. The Eluvatarans had devised a strategy, however. A strategy which the Haradrim were unable to defeat.

The tides of war reached the waterline of the ship of state, and the Haradrim host reached the greatest line of defense of the capital city of Romenna: the Water Line. For centuries, the Romennans had won their farms and their cities through unending combat with the merciless waters. The whole region about the city was a criss-cross of canals, dikes, and pumps. It did not take all that much ingenuity for King Boromir to construct the original Water Line, nor for generations thereafter to maintain and improve it.

As the clocks of Romenna struck midnight, opening the eleventh of December, seven specially chosen dikes blasted open as one. Nineteen pumps were deactivated, and twelve special pumps went to work. The waters were unleashed. Where there had been low farmland there would now be a series of ponds, blocking any advance. Synchronously, the now assembled Eluvataran First Army struck Haradrim positions at several higher areas, surrounding several battalions which were now abruptly cut off.

With impeccable timing, the Eluvatarans had broken the Haradrim Empire’s first, best hope for victory. With enormous losses, the Haradrim host could no longer advance, and the Eluvatarans were free to put in practice their revised doctrines of deep trenches with barrage bunkers in cleverly shaped designs and to complete the basic training of more newly mobilized recruits. No artillery bombardment could devastate the new Eluvataran lines as the Haradrim had at Celowindecoewar. Within days, the First Army would be joined by the new Fourth Army and the Haradrim force, difficult to supply and reinforce, would become outnumbered.

[Gulliver]

Makt had thought that the commotion at the station from which they had departed for the south had been bad. What greeted him in Romenna made him feel like a naive country boy for ever thinking that.

The moment the door of the patriotic slogan adorned (Makt had personally contributed the slightly wordy "pay the murderers their due") boxcar slid open a great wave of sound, an aggregation of a plethora of individual calls, jostling and footsteps, rolled over with near stunning force. The the sight and especially smell of the seething mass of both human and lycanthropic soldiers outside, filling what seemed to be every available space in the station, drove the impression home. He was never quite sure how their captain managed find room to get off the train, or how he himself and the rest of his company repeated the same feat when ordered to. He especially wasn't sure how they all found the room in which to organize themselves into a neat column.

How ever it was they had managed to find a place on the ground, it was the absolute bare minimum necessary. Makt, at the outside of the formation, found himself on several occasions bumped on the side by passer-bys who in their urgent rush could not be bothered to apologize for or even notice what had transpired. Finally a human officer, after narrowly missing Makt as he proceeded along in a brisk walk, approached the captain. The two exchanged salutes, and began a very clipped and stiff conversation in Eruvite.

His background meant that Makt meant next to nothing about the language, and the precise content of the conversation was beyond comprehension, but he could glean some information from the expressions of the participants involved. Or at least he could tell that something was a bit off when the captain expressed a bit of surprise and confusion, which was met by what have must been explanation. Makt risked an inquiring look over his shoulder back towards Hagan, who could only shrug. Both of their attentions were brought back to the front of the column by the voice of the captain.

"There's been a change of plans boys. I know I promised you a rest in the barracks first, but we're to march to the front line immediately," the captain reported matter-of-factly. Makt felt gravely disappointed at the news, but said nothing, maintaining the discipline he had been trained to observe. He could only guess that his comrades felt similarly. The captain meanwhile turned his back towards them and barked his next order. "Company, forward!"

[St Oz]

20:40 December 1, 1898 76th Gaean Rifle Division, far from An.
Official Kills: 17

Kursei, just a young man from the southern reaches of Moacia, looked up into the sky trying to find the bright North Star that he’s always read about. The sun already set. but a dark, significant hue of red bled on the corners of the sky, illuminated by the inferno. Several minutes of searching was interrupted by a rifle shot. He didn’t flinch since it had the distinct echo of an Iseltov rifle. A hand smacked his chest down in the trench. The hand came from Tupor, his spotter, who came back with coffee in a metal cup.

“What are you doing?” Tupor took a sip at his coffee.

Kursei made a frustrated breath and looked back down at the faint battlefield in the red light, bodies, half bodies, quarter bodies, and eighth bodies littered the Aelu-lands, “Trying to find the north star.”

Tupor chuckled in a whisper, “You’re an astronomer too? I thought your botanical observations were too much.”

“Fuck you.”

“Did Lara -teach- you-”

Kursei threw a punch at Tupor and caused his coffee to spill over his hand and on the ground.

Tupor shook his head as he twitched his burnt hand, his face cringed with pain,  “Iaaah!.. Feh-... I-I forgive you Kursei. Mentioning Lara was a bad idea, and besides... Gaea needs more to drink than blood.”

The two went pensively silent. The mention of blood made the smell of flesh more noticeable to Kursei. His hands began to tremor as black smoke in the distance started to etch out into a picture of Lara. Color formed inside the lines that sketched her face. Her skin’s tone was deathly pale and her eyes turned grey. Skin peeled off her face, then muscles shrunk, and finally the remaining flesh charred off on top of a burnt skull. Kursei unscrewed the cap off his flask and held the strong alcohol concoction over his nose to soften the smell, then finally taking a drink. The sketch disappeared. Tupor’s pensiveness broke with Kurseis laughter, and then he joined him..

Tupor reached over and patted Kursei’s shoulder, “Terrible, Time to meet our quota right? We need to make 10 shots and a kill. If we keep putting it off, they’ll shoot us, remember? One kill, ten shots!”

Kursei took a peek over the top of the trench, “I’ve killed 17, what more do they want”

His spotter also inched his head up, “All you’ve killed is photos, watches, mugs, canteens, and a dog.”

“Hey! I thought that dog was one of those werewolves!” He then looked around him and noticed the flag of the other division next to him. He took out his rifle, “We need to shush, we’re near the Harad’zhi lines. Time to work.”

Kursei crawled up to the top of the trench and popped open the scope cover closest to him. Tupor scrambled up beside him and looked out with his binoculars. He scanned the reddish horizon for any bright yellow lights, “I think they know that there are snipers now.”

“Poorly disciplined snipers at that, what will they do without their dog?”

“I heard dog saliva has healing properties”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I think even the werewolves have the same saliva”

“Now you’re zoologist?”

“Oi-Ieh! Just ask Sarah tomorrow in the hospital. I can shoot your foot to make her more approachable.”

“Hoi! ‘Sarah! Sarah! Myy foot got shot and I have a question about dog saliva.’ Let’s keep Sarah out of this.” Tupor stopped suddenly, “I see something.”

Kursei popped the other scope cover off, “Pussy. She’ll know you can take a bullet.”

“About 500 meters, fuck you. She’s probably off with some Harad-swine.”

“Who knows? Maybe she wants your pretty Ozian eyes!”

“Rip a cock, Moaz.”  

After a brief moment of scanning with his scope he said, “I don’t see it.” Kursei looked over at Tupor to see the direction he was scanning. He looked back into his scope and found what he was looking for. He paused a moment, trying to make out what he was looking at. “Is that a lighter?”

“I have no idea anymore, shoot it.”

After fifteen seconds he squeezed the trigger. He looked over to his spotter and he looked back at him. Kursei furrowed his brows, making a face at Tupor. Tupor looked into his binoculars and looked back making a shrugging motion. Kursei yawned and descended down the trench to light off a zuavka cigarette, and then he offered one to Tupor per usual, payment for all his recorded lies.

The two laughed again. Official Kills: 18


12:06 December 6th, 1898

Imperial Commissar Altan Kuz was a respected man of the Imperial Harad Army for his language talents, and unfortunately damned to keep the Gaean forces in line. Before the war, he thought this task was a waste of his time, spending his spare time learning the Moaz accent as well as translating several pieces of Ozian Poetry. Notably he loved to read from “the potter”, Suiza, and especially the ironies of Palpui. Aside from the book work, he would often join his fellow comrades in their merriment. The thought of war never crossed his mind when he was among the Gaean forces. Altan was definitely never assimilated into the Gaean culture either, he never understood the Day of Fire as anything but pyromania and drunkenness, Mai’vok as lust and drunkenness, and Aravitai as drunkenness and drunkenness.

   The war changed everything, including his post. Before the Gaean forces were shipped out the Haradrim high command scrambled the imperial commissars, probably to reduce attachment to the Gaeans. This made his job more demanding than he ever thought possible. His new post’s leader was questionable. He had to put off the confusingly hilarious Palpui to cheer up an ill-mannered Ozian lieutenant named Veist Poelsho. He was informed that this lieutenant was responsible for the Harad’s pyrrhic victory during the wars with Ozia. Somewhere in his miserable head was a tactical genius. Altan found himself playing an imperial babysitter.    

For what was half day for the enlisted men and Altan, was morning for Lt. Poelsho. The commissar never thought to check Poelsho’s room anymore. Discovering him with an empty bottle of spirit and slumped over his desk was a sign that he slept soundly. However when his bottle was only half empty, he knew he’d be irritable. The supply train suspiciously ran out of zuavka, and recently he took up his back up vice, alcohol. What was left of the Zuavka was smoked up in two days. Thankfully, the bottle was empty.

Altan patted his shoulder, the lieutenant sprung up and liberated a stronger aroma that had been hiding the whole night;. Altan squinted and moved his nose away, “Good day, Lieutenant…”

The lieutenant looked at the new drool stain on his holy book. Ever since the zuavka vanished he looked elsewhere to enchant his spirit, “I read! Read in the chronicles last night, too long I’m afraid… I’m going to need more drinks Commisar.”

“Understood Lieutenant, you do know it’s approaching that time again? We are scheduled for an attack at 12:30 today.”

“I don’t remember hearing this, we attacked yesterday.”

“No, our line was attacked yesterday, and you were even at the meeting with the General.”

“I don’t remember this.”

“Well if you miss another attack coordination, the General was going to have you hung for insubordination.” The commissar grabbed an opened letter on his desk, “You remember this don’t you!?”

The lieutenant looked at a page in the Chronicles, “Where’s my gun?”

“On you lieutenant, what’re you reading?”

“And my helmet?”

“On your head lieutenant. What’re you reading?”

He stood up, ignoring his question, with a slight fumble, “I’m ready.”

[Eluvatar]

Ærin Anorien Bespaecasi Belaedari.  "The Tide Receding." The War to End War: 1898-1910, 2nd Ed. Tome II: 1898. Annuminas: Winoedund College Press. 1928. Print.

Chapter the second, the Tide Receding.

From the eleventh onward it seems nothing could go right for the Haradrim Host. Half the host's artillery lay at the bottom of murky new ponds, and six entire divisions in Eluvataran prisoner of war camps, including what remained of all three homeland divisions. Understanding the severity of his situation, General Halek in command of the host ordered an immediate withdrawal. To the man's credit, he avoided the complete loss of his host. Not a single artillery piece from the Host that crossed the border into Eluvatar made it back into the Suveri province, however. Of the two hundred twelve thousand soldiers of the Haradrim Emperor who crossed the border into Eluvatar, a mere forty eight thousand returned with Halek.

The reason for this attrition was that the assaults by the Haradrim against the border forts they had bypassed at the beginning of the campaign failed ignominously, and the railroads they had been using fell under Eluvataran artillery bombardment. Without enough supplies, the Host had to flee in a rout, losing most of their heavy equipment, their battle standards, and even the General's harem.