December 17th, 2016

Operation Underworld

During yesterday’s landing operation, the landing force suffered 67% casualties. I talked to one of the generals leading this operation: General Seir, leader of the 1st Infantry Division, more commonly known by their nickname, the “Lowriders.” He told me that until more troops arrived, and the next wave wasn’t due to land for another week, that we couldn’t make any advances and were vulnerable if the Imperial Army counterattacked us.

General Seir: “Look, the generals that are commanding units here have all reached the same conclusion, and we’re all expecting the enemy to counterattack within the next three days. We’ve sent recon drones all over the region, and the ones that haven’t been shot down are reporting at least seven divisions of Imperial armor and soldiers moving towards us. They’re heading towards the Imperial city of New Grace. We think they’re going to stay in the city for a day or two, so we want to send you and a few squadrons to escort a bomber formation while they destroy the divisions.”

I didn’t like how that sounded. Bombing military divisions in a city. I prayed that the civilians had already evacuated. Seir must’ve read what I was thinking on my face.

General Seir: “I don’t like it any more than you do, but this is war. If we don’t do this, that counterattack will cost us three times as many lives.”

Like that made me feel any better. We were still bombing civilians. But I couldn’t disobey orders, and I respected the general.

So, we were going to bomb New Grace. We took off from the makeshift runway paved out by the army late at night shortly after the bombers did. We fell into formation with the bombers and flew for about an hour before we reached the city.

These bombers were TU-160s. Carpet bombers. Their purpose is to find the area an enemy is in, and then remove that area. When we got to the city, it was just like I had expected. Nearly 200 enemy tanks and transports were parked at various places throughout the city. In alleyways. In parking garages. In between buildings. On the side of the road. Everywhere.

We could have done this with drones. We could have done a hundred other less casualty-heavy options, but we were short on time and resources. Nothing was said between us. We all knew what was going to happen, and we just wanted to get it over with. Let the waves of emotion and guilt hit us once we’re back at base.

We had no idea what would happen.

What really happened was far worse.

They didn’t mention to us in the briefing what kind of bombs they had loaded into the planes.

Firebombs.

Firebombs were explosive containers with fuel inside. Once the bombs detonated, the liquid would spread outside of the blast area in a radius. When they were ignited, they would spread fire onto anything the fuel had touched.

The whole squadron watched in horror when we realized they were firebombs. An enemy tank exploded, and a puddle of fuel spread and ignited, setting fire to a nearby building. Based on the bomber pilots’ reactions, I started to think even they didn’t know what kind of bombs they were carrying. Enemy chatter exploded in panic and terror as a wave of flame slowly consumed their city.

Imperial Technician: “Roll out the flak guns! Shoot down as many as you can!”

Imperial Soldier: “We need to get the civilians out of here!”

Imperial Technician: “We should have done that a week ago!”

Imperial General: “Forget them! Our priority is to protect our vehicles!”

Imperial Soldier: “Sir?!”

Imperial General: “We lose these divisions, and we will never be able to contain this invasion!”

The bombers kept scorching the city. Bomb after bomb after bomb fell out of the underside of the planes. The enemy flak guns didn’t even get a chance to fire before the burning wall consumed them as well. Trucks tried to outrun the bombers but couldn’t escape them.

And then I could hear it. Over the radio, I heard the screams and cries of the hundreds of thousands of terrified civilians fleeing the terror and destruction. Everyone in the squadron heard the same thing.

The bombs even hit helicopters that were trying to escape. They spiraled into buildings, cracking half and fell into the streets, or shattered before they even hit the ground. This nightmare went on for another fifteen minutes before the bombers cleared the city.

New Grace was in ruins. The fires burned as though the sun itself had landed on the city. A great bloom of smoke, barely noticeable in the night but made visible by the fire’s illumination, made a cloud of unfathomable size above the city. Nearly every building in the city had been flattened.

I saw something out of the corner of my eye as we turned and started heading back to base. It was an Astean truck. The only thing to make it out of the city. I don’t know how many people were on that truck, but they may have been the only ones who survived the bombing.

I say this because I never heard anything about survivors from the bombing afterwards. I heard about the rescue efforts that continued for two months after, but they never found anyone. That night, the entire city, and everyone in it, was devoured by Hell. Everyone except whoever was on that truck.

I never found out what happened to those people. I doubt I ever will, but I hope I do. Someday.

The flight back was quiet and uneventful. Nobody said anything. We were still trying to grapple with what we had just done. The flight back felt much longer.

When we got back to the airfield, I felt so tired, but I couldn’t fall asleep, no matter how hard I tried. I wanted someone to blame. Someone to be angry at. General Seir. The bomber crews. The Alliance itself. I was furious. But more than that, I was just depressed and drained.

I walked around the perimeter of the airfield. It was dark, and there was nobody out, so it was nice to just walk around and turn my mind off.

I heard footsteps behind me and turned around to see Stronghold running up behind me. She slowed to a walking pace once she reached me.

Stronghold: “Hey.”

Me: “Hey.”

…

Stronghold: “Are you okay?”

…

Me: *sigh* “No. I’m not. I feel horrible.”

…

Stronghold: “It wasn’t your fault, you know?”

Me: “I can’t help but still feel responsible. You probably feel the same. Why else would you be out here?”

Stronghold: “Fair enough.”

…

Me: “I wish this mission had never happened.”

Stronghold: “That makes all of us. The whole thing is already on the news. There’s nothing left of the city anymore.”

Me: “What was the city’s population, anyway?”

…

Stronghold: “Two hundred and fourteen thousand.”

Me: “Jesus.”

Stronghold: “Yeah.”

…

Me: “How many of them do you think made it out?”

Stronghold: “Do you want an honest answer or an optimistic answer?”

Me: “Honest.”

Stronghold: “I think maybe ten thousand survived. That’s if we’re being optimistic. Worst-case is that the truck we saw escaping was all that was left of the survivors.”

…

Me: “Fuck.”

Stronghold: “Yeah.”

We walked silently for half an hour more. I didn’t want to talk. She continued the conversation.

Stronghold: “I want you to know something. If you need support, or anything like that… I’m here to help you.”

That was Stronghold. She was like a big supportive sister to me. I trusted all my squadron mates with my life, but I trusted her more than the others. We had known each other since our days at the academy and knew each other well.

Me: “I’m going to go try and sleep now.”

Stronghold: “Alright. Suppose I should’ve expected that.”

She turned and started to head off, but before she got out of earshot, I said one last thing to her.

Me: “Hey, Stronghold? Thank you.”

She looked back at me, nodded, and then walked off.