Vlad kept his head low and two hands on the gun, aimed towards the front. He listened to the loud, grinding tanks as they moved past the defensive line, made up of sandbagged foxholes much like his own, in similar if not better or worse conditions as his own. He knew what another group of tanks meant. The unit that had attacked has failed to break the enemy and now needs reinforcements likely either to try to keep up the attack or to save their sorry hides. As the last of them went by, Vlad relaxed at the gun to rest a bit as he looked around his grave. A few ammo cans, ration cans, dirty playing cards that had some of the nations leaders as the various kings and queens, his rifle which hes only fired a few times which also reminded him he needed to check to see if its loaded right. Wilhelms helmet also was there, with the massive bullet hole that caved the helmet in. It served as a reminder to Vlad that he had two other people with him. One got recalled to serve at another defensive line, the other, Wilhelm, now is assigned to Valhalla with the rest of his ancestors.

Being undermanned has been a fact of life for him for two months now. His current assignment now five months. He still remembers how 8 months ago, the Shengo Confederation fell apart with the fall of its capital. The war on this jungle like island now is a mix of being a war and a occupation, as the remnants, rebels, and those native of the country now try to dislodge the Empire from its control. Had it not been for that, Vlad would be just one more muscle in the army, serving a relatively easy occupation assignment. But no, he was in a hole set on a hill with his gun aimed down. Not even trained to be a gunner, Vlad had to remind himself he was the one who also has to cool off the gun if he overheats it. If he did, that means using his own drinking water, so he needs to keep calm and only fire bursts.

He moved up just slightly so that only his head at eye level was exposed, looking over to remind himself that he wasen't entirely alone. Yards away from him on both sides were men in their holes waiting for any attacks, some with the colors he flew over his own. It was easy to tell who was newly assigned and who was here the longest based on when things were quiet. The ones who been here for a while are the ones who stay in their holes, not exposing any parts of their bodies. If they were relaxing, it was hard to see. The ones who are new, are the guys who are either sitting on top of their sandbags or have the cleanest uniforms, laughing, talking, smiling as if they will be home soon.
Not until this enemy position is taken. Not until the Shengo reistance is dead and the rule of the Black Tsar is cemented on this stupid little jungle island.

Vlad sat down in his hole as he just looked to the sky. Taking the queen card out from his helmet and looking at it. A black queen card, the queen being drawn to fit the image of the Black Tsarina, the second ruler of Valhalla with Malice, Night. He remembered how just a few days ago, she had gathered many of the women from the homeland to make chocolates to send to the men serving here with cards and letters. He had no girlfriend at home, he was a farmer boy who joined up to help him get through college and get a job that was as far from the front-line as possible. He still got chocolate though, from one of the girls that made and sent chocolates purely to give the soldiers some sweets. It was the one time he was away from his hole for some time that he could relax. The chocolate was hard to eat, but it was better then the soggy bread he had.

A explosion woke him from his memory as soon it was joined by multiple others. He sat up quickly to see what was happening. A smoke screen. A attack was coming. Vlad quickly got back to the maxim and aimed towards it. What happened to the tanks? Did they get overwhelmed or did the enemy find a way around them? Vlad kept his head low enough so that he could still see down the sights. Soon he could see some raggedly dressed men charge through the smoke, yelling like banshees. Whistle blows was what he heard next. The sign to open fire. Vlad took aim and began to fire. Compared to the earlier months, he was deaf to the sound his gun made as he fired. Three shots per trigger squeezing. He couldn't tell how many he hit, as others were firing as well. He continued though as time passes, firing, firing...

Click.

No.

Click click.

No ammo. He forgot to check his ammo before the attack began. The gun was mostly outside his hole, he didn't have the strength to pull it back and change the clip. A few shots fired, hitting the sandbags and just scarping his helmet changes his mind of reaching out to change it. Slumps down into the hole as he grabs his rifle. The screeching now getting louder and louder. He checks his ammo and sees hes still got a full clip and readies it to fire. Another explosion hits not far. His greatest fear. Their in grenade throwing range, and his fear is not seeing a grenade get by and into his hole was making it all the harder to stay calm as panic sets in.

But not long after the explosion, followed another and another. The screeching got quieter as Vlad looked through the small opening in his sand bags. Some of the tanks returned and had begun firing on the attacking Shegos. Soon they were the ones panicked, as the survives ran right and left into the jungle. Few tried running towards, futility, to the tanks. As the battle turned to his sides favor, he could hear cheers and shouts as men alike hold their guns up to the tanks. They must of been ordered back when the attack came, and now turn back to rejoin the rest of their column. No doubt slowing the efforts, but not as much as if the defense line had fallen and the rebels had free will to do as they please.

Vlad rested against the walls of his sandbags as he realizes he can relax again. He didn't know how much time past until he saw someone overlooking his hole. He looked up to see it was a officer. What man had the balls to stand out in the open here? The officer was quiet at first as he looked down. Vlad could only wonder what he was going to get chewed out for. The fact his gun lost ammo, the fact he is slumped down in his position and not at the ready for another attack. Any one of these reasons would be good enough.

"Whats the charge?" he said, figuring if there was any reason a officer was here, it was purely buisness.

"Your being reassigned," he said, his voice showing his age, likely in his fifties or sixties.

"Pardon?"

"The Tsar wants men hove served awhile on the front lines to be reassigned to a different position away to help them regain their nerves and give them some RnR. So when your ready, come out of your hole." The officer held his hand out to see if Vlad needed help, which Vlad took. He had nothing of real value in the foxhole to take with him. He was relatively small compared to the officer as he followed him, with some others towards a group of steam powered trucks and half tracks. He saw a few men who were walking towards his position no doubt to take his place, holding some new rations and ammo. They looked at him, in his scraped helmet, his bandage over his head and the darkened eyes he had.

"You were the only one in there?" said one of them.

"Yeah, for two months," said Vlad, stopping only to give a light chat to them. "The guns got no ammo, so reload it. Oh, and keep your head down."

"Its Shengo I doubt they know how to aim," chuckled one of them.

"My friends helmet is still in there. Check it out when you get there. You'll see how much they can't aim."

He walked by them, leaving them with that warning. Its the most he could leave with them as he walked towards the trucks, jumping on board one with men who looked either equally rough or more roughed up. Some looked to need medical help, more so then he did. As the truck was closed up and the engine roared movement began as the defense line Vlad had made home for five months finally began to disappear. He rested his head against the wood as he could see the sun now risen high enough to see and smiled.

He would live another day and pray for the men that replaced him.

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Originally I didn't plan to do this story. I had another reason for doing this pic.

Basically its meant to represent THAT mission or war you had in a game. In a rts, it might of been a mission you were going to win, but a misstep or underestimating the enemys strength put you in deadlock and a cycle of trying to beat the enemy while straying off his attacks. Or in a war in a game like EU3 or Civilization where you just can't get a decisive victory of your enemy, but neither could they.

One famous example Ive found is a man whose played a Civ2 game for ten years and the war has yet to show any progress of ending.

http://www.joystiq.com/2012/06/15/civilization-2-10-year-game-predicts-nuclear-wasteland-future-s/

So yes, after awhile these battles leave me in a mood like this, and the ending of the story shows my relief when its finally over.

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