DRENCHED SANDS

WAR 108, DAY 65-70, Stema Landing, Desolation Beach --- At the isthmus that separates the grim and bleak regions of North and South, war continues on. Despite the distance from any major conflict zones, the region of Stema Landing has seen its share of combat.

I had arrived at the worst possible moment for a reporter, as there was rain falling at a steady pace, and all the combat had become centralized at a position. Here movement between either side was locked to a narrow Delta between Warden-controlled Spearhead and Base Ferveret, currently in Colonial Hands. For the last two nights, the Colonials have been counterattacking the Warden forces on this strip of beach, attempting to force them into the ocean. Whereas progress to the Northwest was halted by the narrowing strip of beachhead, turning into a glorified sandbar, only infantry and small vehicles being able to pass through. It was here that the Legion began to dig in, placing sandbags and stacking them up to create a barrier between them and the Wardens. 

It appeared that the Colonials would simply bleed the attackers dry, but before any final push could be mustered, several Warden gunboats assailed the stretch of beach with indirect fire, forcing the Legion back. In response, the Colonials could do nothing but hold firm and dig in, hoping that eventually, they'd manage to break the deadlock between the two forces. This allowed the Wardens to resupply and rearm on the far end of the beach, much to the frustrations of the Meseans. Spurred by fresh ammunition the Wardens began to attack from both flanks, as well as head-on. 

With luck, a Colonial gunboat appeared on the Western Shorelines by 0800 hours, relieving one flank of the now beleaguered Legion. Yet after an extended engagement with a Warden Gunboat, the Colonials were sunk, with the survivors desperately swimming to shore. Out of a crew of what looked to be about eight, only three managed to swim ashore, the tide ripping off their weapons and webbing as they tried to fight against the current.

With the left flank exposed once again, the Wardens began to press their advantage, sending wave after wave of troop-laden barges along the shoreline, now with even more gunboat support on their side. The tides had turned, with now the Legion fighting against a combined-arms assault on the beaches they had just managed to secure only a day earlier. The support lines of the hilltop that overlooked the beach were soon besieged by the Warden Gunboats, who pummelled everything they could see. Trench lines, emplacements, and at 1538 Hours, the Bunker Base itself. With no water assets to deflect the blows from the Warden vessels, the Legion had to rely on their own ground troops to keep the pressure on their enemy while attempting to mitigate the damage the gunboats were inflicting on their fortifications.

As daylight fell on day 70, the beach seemed awash in a gory haze. Sand, shreds of uniforms and flashes of gore, illuminated by twilight's glint as the sun sunk below the ocean. Flares soon pushed back the darkness, as combat continued on the beach; every inch seemed strewn in a maelstrom of equipment and dead bodies. Barges continued to patrol the flanks of the sandbar. If they were put out of action, they were simply abandoned, turning the shoreline into a corridor, the killing field immolated in perpetual shadow from the barges.

The battle here at Desolation Beach could end at any moment, and it wouldn't matter in the slightest in context to the big picture- a narrow strip of land with no resources and hardly any solid foundation to build upon. That has been the culmination of over two months' worth of blood and treasure for both sides, with victory resulting in no guarantees, no assurances of resources or positioning. It could all be undone by a fortnight.

…Paper is getting wet, blood is not mine. If Ponsonby asks about liquor, I didn't touch it.