The Veil War

I ran down the situation for the Lieutenant.

“Why should I believe that there are magical SOF types with invisibility cloaks who will blow the gate if we just attack a regimental size unit of fucking dinosaurs?”

“You didn’t believe me when I told you there were dinosaur Nazis, and look what happened to your uniform.”

“OK, point.”

“Hounddog, I need Fister and Thomas.”

“No fucking way. They’re the only two competents we have.”

“Yeah, but listen…”

***

The lieutenant led most of the platoon up the rocky scree to their appointment with destiny. I’d kept Arechiga and the Dumbfucker, and now Fister and Doubting Thomas were looking at me like I’d grown a dick out of my forehead.

Fister was a sleepy-looking little shit. Paranoid as fuck but hey, you get hit three times by RPGs and see how sunny your outlook is. The last encounter with murderous, rocket-propelled explosives was only last week, and his forehead looked like a hippy had tie-dyed it in blue, yellow and brown.

“How’s the head, Fister?”

He opened his eyes a little more and glared. “Right,” I said. “We ready?”

Arechiga and Dumbfucker nodded. Fister glared some more. Thomas looked doubtful. Surprise!

“We wait until Hounddog is in position.”

***

“Poodle, this is Hounddog actual. We are in position.”

“Shit-soo Actual this is the Subcommandante. Commencing operation let’s fuck with the dinosaur fascists some and piss off my lieutenant… on my mark.”

I waited a bit. Then a bit more.

“Mark.”

I dropped the mike and walked up the road.

My plan was simplicity itself. The activities of the overzealous A-10 pilots had wrecked the fascist armor on the narrow mountain road. Now, dinosaurs and actual human Nazis were bottled up behind the wreckage.

Some well-placed ‘splodey would clear the wreckage, and allow the dammed up fascist tide to sweep out, down the road and over the plains. Then Tactical Beardman and the Chad could do their thing and blow the gate.

Only problem? I was going to be on the road when the fascist tide flowed, with only my dear Lieutenant for cover.

***

“Well, there goes that plan.”

The Tiger II tank clanked and rattled down the mountainside like a discarded child’s toy. The triceratops backed up gingerly, the swastika painted on its crest clearly visible and by now only vaguely ridiculous. The fascist mahout rode right behind the crest, shouting commands and pulling on the reins to direct the enormous beast. The only thing missing was a flashing yellow light and a back-up beep.

Another tank clattered down the hill, still burning and leaving a spiral smoke ring as it dropped. Rather pretty, really.

“How now, brown cow?” Fister asked.

“Well, a frontal assault is clearly counter-indicated.”

“No shit, dumbass.”

I looked up the road. The two triceradozers were working hard and at the rate A-10 ravaged armor was going over the hill, the path would be clear in minutes at the outside. “Look, man, our goal was to clear the wreckage and encourage the krauts down the fucking hill. We have already nearly succeeded in our mission! How fucking cool is that?”

I neglected to mention the still-functioning tanks stacked up behind, and what looked like a couple companies of velociraptor Soldaten. “We need to, you know, kind of… punch them in the nose a bit, get them moving down the hill.” I thought hard for a moment. I need them angry, but I can’t slow them down.

“Let’s just light them up and see what happens.”

“Fuck you, Mumbles,” the NCOs muttered in stereo.

Two more tanks remained on the road. I loaded a grenade and with a thuump of my M203 sent it over the heads of the wrecking crew to land in the neatly ordered ranks of featherless ostriches. More grenades followed.

The Soldaten panicked, running into each other and bouncing off the cliff wall to the right. Two even jumped off the other side to cartwheel down a hundred feet of rocky, 60-degree slope. Awesome. Human Nazi officers were shouting orders, but over the screech of the velociraptors I don’t think anyone heard a single word.

We launched another salvo of grenades, and backed around the switchback just as the return fire started up. Machine gun fire sparked off the rocks as we grabbed cover. I ducked as a tank round hit a boulder and spalled rock chips like grenade fragments. A rocket blew past, and detonated in mid air over the valley.

I looked at my men. “Are they angry enough you think, or should we try harder?”

***

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