Duran Dos 14: Machine Gun Hellfire
"Squad leader! Those bastards! They're moving!"
"Damn it! Get the machine gun ready! Hold them off!"
Charge! If we fail to retake the trench, we're dead! Charge with the spirit of total annihilation! Long live His Majesty the Heavenly Emperor!
Long live His Majesty the Heavenly Emperor! Forward charge!
The Kyrria soldiers, bayonets fixed, screamed like psychos as they charged our trench. The ones advancing with their battle cries seemed utterly fearless of bullets.
We had about twenty men combining our squad and the Marine first squad, while the charging Kyrria forces numbered at least a thousand. They were coming at us from all sides. Our chances of survival looked razor-thin.
If I weren't the real protagonist, this would be a death sentence.
I headed to the machine gun the Marines had set up and kicked the gunner square in the chest.
"Gah!"
"Wh-what the hell!?"
"Step aside, you shaky fuck."
I unleashed a merciless hail of machine-gun fire on the Kyrria troops charging toward death. Even if mob mentality temporarily erased their fear of bullets, humans inevitably humble themselves before death. As the first squad's training officer, it was my duty to teach them that with the machine gun.
'Machine Gun Fire' skill level has increased.
Machine Gun Fire Lv 2 (D-rank)
↳ Improves machine gun firing ability.
Du-du-du-du-du-du!
The machine gun, belching flames and singing its deadly melody, became an excellent teacher to the Kyrria troops. It properly schooled them in the primal terror they'd forgotten.
The charging Kyrria soldiers fell like autumn leaves in the wind. Halting dozens of infantry with a single machine gun wasn't even worth bragging about.
Don't fall back! His Majesty the Heavenly Emperor is with us!
Take out the machine gunner first!
The enemy responded with gunfire in their own way, but even when they poked their heads out from cover, the bullets magically missed me. Protagonist buff in action.
Captain Kurochi! Bullets aren't enough!
Grenades! Use grenades!
Realizing a simple charge wasn't the answer, the Kyrria troops switched to grenades. A wise move.
"Grenades incoming! Everyone, take cover!"
Grenades rained down. I moved like lightning, snatched one mid-air, and lobbed it back at the thrower.
Eek!
Boom!
Firing the machine gun while swatting away grenades. Something no one else could pull off—but I did it.
Thanks to our counterfire, only a handful of grenades rolled properly into the trench. The winding trench layout prevented even those from scattering shrapnel effectively. Ironically, the enemies' thorough trench work let us pull off some space defense.
Still, despite our fierce resistance, the Kyrria troops overwhelmed us with sheer numbers and finally breached the inner trench.
"Shit! Bayonet fight!"
Stab them dead! Behead the filthy Kakil scum!
The Kyrria soldiers who reached the trench, trampling countless comrades' corpses, had eyes bloodshot with near-madness. Their walkers were soaked in gore, and the stench clinging to their bodies overpowered even the acrid gunpowder. They looked like they could kill without blinking.
"Filthy monkey bastards! Die!"
But the Kakil troops were confident in close quarters. On average, they towered a head above the Kyrria soldiers.
Sergeant Helman was a bayonet vet. He caved in a Kyrria soldier's face with his entrenching tool, blocking their push to retake the trench.
I set aside the machine gun and picked off the Kyrria troops who'd entered one by one. Less lethal than the MG up close, but no choice now.
"Damn it! Too many of 'em!"
Sergeant Rostador spat curses as he fired. I slashed through the Kyrria horde like a maniac. Their piling corpses became our footing. But casualties mounted on our side too.
"Dave! Shit! Hang in there!"
A Marine took a greatsword to the chest and died. One of our riflemen caught a bullet in the neck. Even holding the advantageous spot, our numbers were too few.
Tch. Use a skill?
Too many eyes here, and massacring them with skills would tank my rank for sure.
Du-du-du-du-du-du-du!
But hope gleamed anew. Allied reinforcements arrived from the opposite side—troops from the retreated third platoon. While we bought time in the trench, they'd regrouped and launched a counterattack.
"Reinforcements! Hold till they get here!"
Sergeant Rostador bellowed. Now the Kyrria troops panicked. As third platoon's covering fire rained down, the ones trying to seize the position faltered and fell back.
Don't retreat! Falling back here means we're done for! Don't retrea—
Bang!
As the melee troops pulled back, I grabbed a dropped rifle and started sniping. Frontline officers were my targets.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Officers urging the charge dropped, sowing unrest among the ranks.
It's... over!
Don't run—His Majesty the Heavenly Emperor watches over u—
Bang!
Captain Kurochi! Argh!
Du-du-du-du-du-du!
The Kyrria forces turned tail and fled. In battle, losing the will to fight is as good as defeat. I hosed their retreating backs with machine-gun fire without mercy.
"Now! Advance! Push forward! This is our chance to seize the outpost!"
We pursued the fleeing Kyrria troops, overrunning the trench and charging ahead.
Momentum swung back our way. Chasing the retreating Kyrria troops, we seized their outposts one by one.
Even as second platoon endured bombing from the main Kyrria force, holding firm encircled the enemy automatically. Their retreat paths vanished into the Kakil army's airtight net.
By 1900 hours, air support arrived via express delivery. A decisive strike that crushed the last of the Kyrria's will to fight.
Finally, at 2013 hours, Kyrria regimental commander Colonel Hanno declared surrender. Victory was ours.
I led the charge into the Kyrria outpost. The disarmed remnants looked pathetic, their eyes glassy like dead fish.
"Kyrria bastards have faked surrender for suicide attacks before. Stay sharp!"
"Hands up and come out!"
The first squad and Marines who'd stormed the enemy position with me scanned warily with hardened glares. I beelined for the command post and planted the Kakil flag there.
"Hey, hero. Photo op?"
Sergeant Helman grinned, holding a camera from who-knows-where.
"Hold up a sec."
I dragged over a nearby Kyrria POW and snapped a pic of me stomping his head in front of the Kakil flag. The other soldiers snickered at the sight.
"Won't make the papers, but still gold."
Second and third platoons followed us in. We began securing the outpost.
About 1,200 Kyrria survivors. Processing POWs was a hassle—frisking them one by one, binding with ropes, herding into warehouses.
Of course, I slacked off in the back while Coren and the others busted their asses. Coren survived the fight. That guy's got a stubborn life thread.
"No way."
Slacking, my eyes caught a Kyrria female officer. A lieutenant like Berica, but with an Eastern beauty—pale but not bad-looking.
One token girl in an all-male bathhouse vibe. Not half bad.
Sergeant Helman was frisking her. I strode over. His eyes flicked my way.
"Great work, Sergeant!"
"Our hero arrives. Sucks we Marines didn't plant the flag first, but with a guy like you, can't be helped. Hey, ever thought of joining the Marines?"
"I'll consider it. But Sergeant, you shouldn't be stuck with POW frisking grunt work."
He glanced between the female POW and me.
"Look, wartime rape's a war crime."
"Hmm. A crime's only a crime if you get caught, right?"
Helman shrugged. "Fair point. History says beauties belong to heroes anyway. Don't get too rough."
He handed her over without fuss. My exploits this battle were monumental. Without me, crushing the Kyrria main force would've been delayed weeks, with countless casualties.
I'm a war hero. No one here questions my moves. Not among the survivors of this hell island, anyway.