"Things aren't going as planned, but what's the fun in being right about everything you predict?" Captain Bailey was laying against the tree to his back clearing his jammed rifle while his First and Second Lieutenants were reloading the spare clips they kept in their pockets. They didn't expect to see a night-time ambush moving towards their encampment, but having a night guard on watch is always a good idea for the off chance you are wrong.
Mitchel's Second Lieutenant look up from the ditch he was sitting in. "Captain, I thought you said the enemy would be attacking tomorrow evening?" Mitchel couldn't help but softly chuckle as he cleared his jam and looked over to his Second Lt. with a smile. "That's the thing about making predictions, like gambling, sometimes you lose."
Mitchel's First Lieutenant peeked through the shrubbery concealing him towards the now abandoned camp. "Good news, they don't look to be aware of us having moved out of the camp. Unfortunately, they are ransacking the place looking for anything useful." Mitchel turned to his right, looking over to his First Lt. now smiling a bit wider. "Thank you Bell, and now to wait for our prey to move something important."
Looking back towards the assorted trees, shrubs, and ditches his men were hiding around, Mitchel pulled the bolt on his Springfield and pulled out a freshly loaded clip of .30-03 rounds before removing the clip and sliding the bolt forwards with a satisfying click. Mitchel then stood up from his position and signaled to the platoon to stand and get ready. As half of them stood behind trees and crouching behind leafage, and suddenly the sky turned from dark to daylight as suddenly the entire camp exploded in a chain reaction from planted grenades attached to important items around camp, the radios primarily.
While the camp had turned into a fireball and the night was brightened by the remaining fires around the camp, Mitchel's platoon all charged at once towards the surprised enemy forces. Many enemy soldiers stumbled from the sudden blast knocking them off balance or actively harming them from the shrapnel launched into them. As the two sides started to charge into combat Mitchel and his platoon took some positions behind cover where they could while forcing their way closer to the enemy position.
As both sides came together the camp was now a battlefield. Mitchel himself stood outside the camp at a good range for his Springfield. As his men fought some fell and despite being lethally wounded, they pressed on, a few even using the bayonets from their own rifles to make sure the enemy against them was taken with them. Observing their actions, Mitchel remembered these men, they were his brothers, family.
Eventually the ammo had run dry for Mitchel as he fired his last round, his hand feeling nothing from his multiple ammo pouches. Reaching to his side, he drew his revolver and cocked the hammer back as he charged forward like many of his men before. Just the same those behind him followed his lead and charged towards the enemy with reckless abandon, and soon enough they would join the fray.
(Second Lt. Harris)
Running forwards at the front of the men, James felt a burning pain in his chest, like a fire spreading from his lungs. His vision was clouded and while he continued onwards he was having trouble breathing from the smoke flooding from the camp set ablaze. Pulling the pump on his Remington, he dove into the camp to where he felt most comfortable. Turning the corner of a collapsing tent, James aimed up to the entrance where three men were coughing and rubbing their eyes and clutching necks. With no hesitation, his shotgun fired into the backs of two men as the third turned and blindly fired his gun towards James.
The crossfire striking the two men between them, and a searing pain spread throughout James' left leg and stomach. Pulling back the pump again, James nearly collapsed as he started to stumble forwards with pained grunts as he continued towards the front of the camp. Meanwhile some of his men running behind him were now passing him and taking the forefront.
Taking a couple moments to adjust to his growing pain; he pressed on to the next tents as men around him fell from the gunfire. Some of these men couldn't stand anymore and were fighting while sitting against crates and vehicles. James' legs gave out finally as he groaned and gasped from the cold rushing over him, blood loss having started catching up to him.
Grabbing onto the tire of the vehicle he fell against, he stood once again; an arm wrapping around his side and pulled him up to stand once more. "Come on James, if you're not the one diving into hell headfirst, who's gonna lead us to it!?" Looking up from his bleeding leg and stomach, James' blurry eyes met his brothers' before nodding and starting his limping charge once again, back into the fight with his brother's arm carrying him onward to die standing up.
(First Lt. Bell)
Bryse stood at the tree line for a few moments after the Second Lt.'s charge before starting his own towards the front of the encampment with just as much vigor. Several men followed with him while a couple stopped every few moments to throw a few Pineapple grenades towards the camp and any vehicles that were still operable. The constant flashes of light and loud explosions drew the attention of the enemy soldiers towards them.
Bryse stopped his charge towards the entrance of the camp and went towards the camp before he stopped with the other men behind some of the vehicles that were driven into the camp. Hefting his heavy weapon up with two others on the back of the car. They moved as fast as they could in arming the Lewis Guns before starting to suppress the camp with a constant spread of fire. Most of the forces attacking his group took cover anywhere they could from the sheer volume of rounds shot at them. Even then, as the rounds ran dry, the enemy soldiers took the opportunity given to them to return the attack with a barrage of stick grenades.
All of the men around Bryse stood and abandoned their positions and Lewis Guns to avoid the coming explosives. Each of them pulling out their sidearms to get the drop on the still cowering enemies in the camp. As the flurry of grenades started to erupt, many of them shredded or killed the men near Bryse until one also caught him. Having exploded under his feet from the short throw, he cried out in pain before starting to settle himself as best he could.
The profuse bleeding and the missing right leg and left shin left him with few options as he felt the sudden rush of energy growing stronger. He crawled forwards and over the lip of the trench falling in head first onto an enemy soldier with his combat knife; driving it down into the collar of his enemy. The soldiers around Bryse continued to fight his brothers in arms while he took his best shots, but Bryse was starting to black out as his hearing had long since been replaced with a distant ringing.
(Captain Bailey)
Mitchel smiled as he took the bayonet from his empty rifle. Cocking his pistol again after his first shot into the back of a commanding officer; if their uniforms were accurate that was. His men fought and continued onwards alongside him before another series of explosions rocked the camp, followed by a lot more gunfire than there was at the start of the fight.
Turning up the aggression of battle, Mitchel took a moment to glance around at the men still fighting before it suddenly became clear. The group they were fighting wasn't the main force attacking them, what they were fighting right now was just the forwards scouts. The fighting was starting to die down as both sides came to a halt from the arrival of tanks, trucks, and many more enemy soldiers.
The fighting didn't last much longer after that, as Mitchel's men fought onto the bitter end before he found himself bleeding profusely against the table he had flipped over for more cover, and having seen the abilities of the men around them; the enemy soldiers chose to obliterate the table and anything around it through mass machine gun fire.