Chapter 43: Battle of the Black Forest - Part 1
Oberfeldwebel Markus Keller stood at attention alongside his comrades, the cold air of the early morning biting through his uniform. The room was tense, filled with the quiet murmur of men who had seen their fair share of combat but were still unsettled by the unknown. The 98th Mountain Infantry Regiment, known for its expertise in rough terrains and harsh conditions, had been called upon for an operation that was shrouded in mystery.
The Black Forest, or Schwarzwald as it was known in Germany, had long been a place of legend and eerie tales. But the recent reports coming from within its depths were anything but fiction. Explosions, gunfire, the disappearance of civilians and police officers—all had been reported within the last few days. The local police, overwhelmed and ill-equipped to handle such strange occurrences, had turned to the Bundeswehr for assistance.
At the front of the room, Oberst Müller, the regiment's commanding officer, stood sternly as he began the briefing. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, a sense of urgency that hadn't been there in previous operations.
"Men, we've been tasked with investigating these disturbances in the Black Forest. The situation is unclear, but we are to treat it as a hostile environment. The local authorities have confirmed the loss of contact with multiple civilian and police personnel in the area. There have also been unconfirmed reports of unidentified entities. I want every one of you on high alert. This is not a standard operation."
Maps of the Black Forest were laid out on the tables, showing the dense, almost impenetrable terrain that they would soon be navigating. Keller studied the map carefully, noting the key areas they were to patrol. The forest was vast, and the thought of getting lost in its labyrinthine paths was daunting, even for a veteran like him.
"We'll be deploying in squads," Müller continued. "Each squad will have a designated patrol route, and you are to report anything out of the ordinary immediately. Do not, I repeat, do not engage unless absolutely necessary. We don't know what we're dealing with here, and I won't have us taking unnecessary risks."
The briefing concluded with the usual instructions—gear checks, radio frequencies, and emergency protocols. But as Keller and his squad left the room, there was a palpable tension among them. This wasn't like the deployments to the Balkans or the Middle East; this was something different, something far closer to home and far more unsettling.
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The convoy of military vehicles rumbled down the narrow roads leading to the edge of the Black Forest. The morning mist clung to the trees, making the forest look even more foreboding. Keller sat in the back of one of the trucks, his rifle resting across his lap, his mind running through the briefing over and over again.
When they finally arrived at their designated drop-off point, the men disembarked in silence, their breath visible in the cold air. The forest loomed before them, dark and still, as if it were waiting for them to enter.
"Oberfeldwebel Keller, you'll be leading the third squad," Hauptmann Dietrich, their platoon leader, instructed. "Your route takes you along the western ridge. Report anything you find immediately."
Keller nodded and turned to his squad. They were all experienced soldiers, men he had served with for years, and he trusted them implicitly. But as they stepped into the forest, even Keller felt a chill run down his spine.
The forest was eerily quiet as they moved deeper into its depths. The only sounds were the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional rustle of wildlife. The trees were thick, their branches intertwining above to create a canopy that blocked out much of the light, leaving the forest floor in a perpetual state of twilight.
For the first few hours, their patrol was uneventful. They followed their route, checking in regularly with the other squads and with headquarters. But as they neared a small clearing, Keller raised his hand, signaling the squad to halt.
"Do you smell that?" he whispered.
The others nodded. There was a faint, metallic scent in the air—blood. They moved cautiously into the clearing, their rifles at the ready. As they emerged from the trees, they saw it: a campsite, or what was left of one.
Several tents stood in disarray, their flaps torn open. Blood was splattered across the ground and on the tent fabric. The remains of a campfire still smoldered, casting an orange glow over the grisly scene. Keller motioned for his men to spread out and search the area.
"Check for survivors or any sign of what happened here," Keller ordered.
The men moved methodically, inspecting the tents and the surrounding area. Inside the tents, they found personal belongings—clothes, backpacks, even a few pieces of identification. But there were no bodies, just blood, a lot of it. It was as if whoever had been here had simply vanished.
"Feldwebel, you need to see this," one of his men called out.
Keller approached and saw what had caught his attention. In the dirt, leading away from the campsite, were drag marks and a trail of blood. Whatever had happened here, it had been violent, and it wasn't over yet.
"We need to report this," Keller said, pulling out his radio. He relayed the situation to headquarters, detailing the blood and the drag marks leading further into the forest.
The response was immediate and clear: "Continue to follow the trail and report any further findings. Do not engage unless necessary."
Keller nodded grimly. "Alright, men, we're moving out. Stay sharp."
The trail led them deeper into the forest, the trees closing in around them. The air grew colder, and the sense of unease among the men intensified. They moved in silence, the only sound being the crackle of the radio as other squads checked in periodically.
Suddenly, a single gunshot echoed through the trees, followed by a brief silence, then a flurry of gunfire in the distance.
"Everyone down!" Keller ordered, dropping to a crouch.
The gunfire was coming from the direction of one of the other squads. Keller listened intently to the radio, trying to catch any communication from them, but all he heard was static.
Then, a panicked voice broke through the static. "This is Squad 5! We're under attack! They're everywhere, we can't—" The transmission was abruptly cut off.
Keller's blood ran cold. "We need to move, now!"
As they pushed forward, more gunfire erupted from different directions. The forest, which had been so silent before, was now alive with the sound of battle. Keller could hear the shouts of soldiers, the crack of rifles, and something else—something unnatural.
A high-pitched screeching noise pierced the air, unlike anything Keller had ever heard. It was followed by more gunfire and screams. The squad pressed on, the trail of blood leading them towards the sounds of chaos.
They reached another clearing and found the remnants of Squad 5. The scene was horrific—bodies lay strewn across the ground, their weapons discarded beside them. But it wasn't just the bodies that made Keller's heart race—it was what had done this.
Standing over the fallen soldiers were creatures unlike anything Keller had ever seen. They were humanoid in shape but twisted, with elongated limbs and faces devoid of any human features. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and their mouths were filled with rows of sharp teeth.
One of the creatures turned towards Keller's squad, its eyes locking onto them. With a guttural growl, it charged.
"Open fire!" Keller shouted.
The squad unleashed a volley of bullets, the sound of gunfire filling the clearing. The creature staggered as the bullets struck it, but it didn't go down. Instead, it let out another screech and continued its advance.
"Fall back! Regroup!" Keller ordered, realizing that their standard-issue weapons were barely slowing the creatures down.
As they retreated, Keller's mind raced. They were up against something far beyond their understanding, something that defied everything they knew about warfare. The creatures were relentless, pursuing them through the forest with terrifying speed and agility.
More gunfire echoed from other parts of the forest, indicating that the other squads were also under attack. The radio was alive with frantic reports and calls for backup, but the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control.
"We need to find higher ground, somewhere defensible," Keller called out to his men as they ran.
They came across a rocky outcrop that offered a slight elevation above the surrounding forest. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. The squad scrambled up the rocks, taking up defensive positions.
The creatures were closing in, their glowing eyes visible through the trees. Keller's heart pounded as he raised his rifle, taking aim at the nearest one.
"Hold the line!" he shouted.
The creatures emerged from the trees, and the squad opened fire once more. This time, the elevated position gave them a slight advantage, and they managed to take down a few of the creatures, but there were too many of them.
Just as Keller thought they would be overrun, a new sound cut through the chaos—the thumping of helicopter blades.
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The thumping of helicopter blades grew louder as they approached. The first wave of creatures, a thousand strong, had decimated the Bundeswehr's ranks, leaving many soldiers injured or dead. The forest, once eerily quiet, was now a battlefield soaked in blood and chaos.
Oberfeldwebel Markus Keller, crouched behind a fallen tree, fired his rifle in short, controlled bursts. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline numbing the fear that clawed at his mind. The creatures—twisted, monstrous abominations—seemed to come from every direction, their glowing eyes cutting through the dense fog of the Black Forest. He had never seen anything like them, and despite his years of service, he felt a deep, primal terror that he struggled to keep at bay.
The Bundeswehr had been isolated, their communications jammed by some unknown force. They had no idea who these new arrivals were. Keller had caught a glimpse of the sleek, black helicopters descending through the treetops, and then the strangers appeared—silent, deadly, and utterly focused. They moved with precision, their weapons far more advanced than anything Keller had ever seen. These soldiers, whoever they were, weren't part of the Bundeswehr or any other military force he knew.
"Hold the line!" Keller shouted to his remaining men, but even as he spoke, another of his comrades fell, ripped apart by the claws of the creatures. The situation was dire. They were being overrun, and Keller knew they couldn't hold out much longer.
Then, from the woods, came a platoon-sized unit, moving like phantoms. They fired in coordinated bursts, cutting down the creatures with terrifying efficiency. These operatives weren't just killing these monsters—they were exterminating them, systematically clearing the area. Keller watched in stunned silence as the tide of battle began to shift.
Nearby, another group of operators arrived with heavy weaponry, their guns roaring as they unleashed devastating volleys into the advancing hordes. The ground shook with the force of their assault, and Keller felt a flicker of hope. For the first time since the attack began, the creatures seemed to hesitate, their advance faltering under the combined firepower of the mysterious operatives and the remaining Bundeswehr troops.
Keller's radio crackled, but it was filled with static—communication was still impossible. He glanced at one of the unknown operatives, who was tending to a wounded Bundeswehr soldier. The operative moved with a calm efficiency, applying some kind of advanced medical aid that Keller had never seen before. The soldier, who had been on the brink of death, began to stabilize, his breathing becoming more regular.
"Who the hell are you people?" Keller muttered under his breath, but he received no answer. The operative simply nodded at him before moving on to the next wounded man.
Despite the lack of communication, the Bundeswehr soldiers began to fall in line with the newcomers. It was clear that these men—whoever they were—were here to help. They moved with purpose, securing the perimeter and pushing back the creatures with a relentless assault. Keller and his men provided covering fire, doing their best to follow the lead of these mysterious saviors.
As the battle raged on, Keller noticed that the creatures were becoming more erratic, their once-coordinated attacks now scattered and disorganized. The presence of the newcomers had clearly thrown them off balance, and Keller seized the opportunity to rally his men.
"Push forward!" he shouted, and the remaining Bundeswehr soldiers surged ahead, driving the creatures back with renewed vigor. The sight of their fallen comrades fueled their determination, and they fought with a ferocity born of desperation.
In the midst of the chaos, Léonard—designated as "Overwatch"—observed the battle through his HUD, coordinating the movements of Delta-0 "Men in Black" and Delta-3 "The Dragons". His mind worked quickly, analyzing the situation and issuing commands with precision. He knew that this was just the beginning; the creatures were merely the first wave, and the true threat was yet to come.
"Delta-0, secure the wounded and establish a perimeter. Delta-3, prepare for a counteroffensive. We need to hold this position until reinforcements arrive," Léonard's voice was calm and controlled, a stark contrast to the chaos of the battlefield.
The creatures, sensing their imminent defeat, launched one final, desperate assault. They charged en masse, their glowing eyes filled with a frenzied rage. But the MTFs were ready. Delta-0 operatives moved like shadows, cutting down the creatures with pinpoint accuracy, while Delta-3 unleashed a torrent of fire that decimated the horde.
Keller fought alongside them, his rifle emptying as he fired into the mass of bodies. The creatures were relentless, but so were the soldiers. The battle was brutal, close-quarters combat, with blades flashing and blood spilling onto the forest floor. But slowly, surely, the tide turned.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last of the creatures fell. The forest, once alive with the sounds of battle, fell silent once more. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood, and the ground was littered with the bodies of the fallen—both human and otherwise.
Keller stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His hands trembled slightly, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He looked around at the battlefield, at the men he had lost, and then at the strangers who had saved them.
One of the Delta-0 operatives approached him, his face obscured by a black helmet. "We need to move," the operative said, his voice distorted by a modulator. "This area isn't secure."
Keller nodded, too exhausted to argue. "Who are you?" he asked again, but the operative simply turned away, signaling his team to fall back.
As the MTFs began to withdraw, Keller realized that they were leaving as quickly and quietly as they had arrived. There would be no answers, no explanations—only the knowledge that they had survived something far beyond their understanding.
The remaining Bundeswehr soldiers gathered their wounded and began to retreat, following the path cleared by the MTFs. As they moved through the forest, Keller couldn't shake the feeling that this was far from over. The Black Forest had always been a place of legends, but now those legends had come to life in the most horrifying way possible.