Operation Cherrybomb Part 2

In the midst of the Hill battle, numerous Polish Americans took cover, some strategically utilizing the trenches to resist the oncoming wave of Federation Sensha Do women charging up the hills. The Grand Lake High Boys were actively engaged, firing their Airsoft weapons, with one participant manning an airsoft machine gun.

Amidst the chaos, Sergeant Dillon, positioned in cover, discharged his weapon while vehemently urging his gunner.

"Less talking, more fighting! Get to the tank, Borys!" Dillon bellowed.

Borys quickly acknowledged Dillon's command, swiftly maneuvering towards the tank positioned strategically on the hillside. As he scrambled through the rugged terrain, the intensity of the battle only escalated. The distinctive sound of airsoft pellets filled the air, punctuated by the occasional yells and shouts from both sides.

Dillon, determined and focused, maintained his position in cover, providing suppressing fire to aid the defensive efforts of his comrades. The Federation Sensha Do women, undeterred by the hail of airsoft pellets, pressed forward with unwavering determination.

Meanwhile, Borys reached the tank and swiftly climbed aboard. The metallic clank of the hatch closing resonated as he settled into the gunner's position. Dillon, his eyes scanning the battlefield, shouted orders to coordinate their defense.

"Keep those Federation forces at bay! We need to hold this position!"

As Borys unleashed a barrage of airsoft rounds from the tank's turret, the tide of the battle seemed to momentarily shift. The Polish American defenders held their ground, utilizing the natural cover of the hill and the tank itself to fend off the Federation onslaught.

Amidst the steadfast defense, the unexpected arrival of the Leopard Federation tank caught the Polish American defenders off guard. The resounding blast disabled the M1 Abrams tank, forcing Borys and his crew to hastily evacuate. Dillon, maintaining his composure, immediately directed his team into the nearby trenches.

"Into the trenches! Move!" Dillon's voice cut through the chaos as they sought refuge in the trenches, regrouping to formulate a new strategy. Together with Borys and their driver, they fired upon the approaching Federation forces, determined to hold their ground.

"We must get out of here and form up with Lucky!" the driver exclaimed urgently, emphasizing the need for a coordinated retreat.

With determination in their eyes, the trio swiftly navigated through the trenches, engaging the Federation forces along the way. The battle had intensified, and the defenders found themselves at risk of being overrun.

As they reached the trench where Lucky and the radio operator were holding their ground, it became evident that the situation was dire. Lucky, amidst the fray, urgently communicated the gravity of their predicament.

"We must get out of here! We're being overrun!" Lucky's voice resonated with urgency, emphasizing the need for a strategic withdrawal.

Dillon quickly assessed the situation, acknowledging the severity of the threat. With a nod to his team, he shouted over the din of battle, "Fall back! We'll regroup and come up with a plan. Stick together, and let's get out of this trench!"

As the Polish American defenders fought their way through the trenches, the Federation forces relentlessly pursued them, seizing the opportunity created by the disabled M1 Abrams. Dillon, Borys, their driver, and Lucky, along with the radio operator, moved as a cohesive unit, strategically navigating the labyrinthine trench network.

Despite the onslaught, the team managed to regroup in a slightly more defensible position within the trenches. Dillon quickly took charge, his voice cutting through the cacophony of battle.

"We need to buy some time! Set up a defensive line here," Dillon commanded, directing his team to fortify their position.

Borys, with a sense of urgency, unslung his airsoft machine gun and began laying down suppressing fire, forcing the Federation forces to momentarily slow their advance. The driver and Lucky joined in, coordinating their efforts to hold back the onslaught.

Amidst the chaos, the radio operator, despite his broken equipment, managed to salvage a makeshift communication link. He relayed a distress call to their allies, urgently requesting support and informing them of the dire situation on the hill.

As the defenders held their ground, Dillon assessed the tactical landscape. "We can't stay here forever. We need to make a break for it. Borys, cover our retreat," he ordered.

With a nod, Borys intensified his fire, providing cover as the team made a tactical withdrawal through the trenches. The Federation forces, momentarily halted by the determined defense, regrouped and resumed their relentless pursuit.

As the team hurriedly regrouped in the secondary defensive lines, a sudden revelation pierced through the chaos. One of the Polish boys shouted out important information, cutting through the din of battle.

"We got word that Washington Academy just sent in their radio operator! He's on the north ridge!" the young man exclaimed.

Dillon, recognizing the potential significance of this development, swiftly directed the team towards the north ridge trench. As they reached their destination, Borys joined them, seamlessly integrating into the defensive line. The group was met by the sight of a determined sixteen-year-old Canadian-American radio operator, Private Leslie Baron, huddled in cover as he reloaded his airsoft rifle.

"Private Leslie Baron, Washington 4th Armored, reporting for..." Baron began, but Dillon abruptly cut him off.

"Radio works? Use it!" Dillon's command was clear and urgent.

"But the Federation girls are right behind me!" Baron protested.

"We don't have time! Use the radio. We need artillery strikes now! We can't hold our defensive lines against their Leopard tanks without support!" Dillon declared, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. He turned to Borys, seeking his cooperation.

"Borys, go with... um," Dillon hesitated, momentarily forgetting Baron's name.

"Baron. Leslie Baron," the radio operator interjected, supplying his own name.

"Go with this Canuck," Dillon instructed Borys, giving Baron a nickname on the spot.

Borys nodded, understanding the urgency of the situation. Together, Borys and Baron scrambled to a more strategic position within the trench, where Baron could effectively use his radio equipment without compromising the defense. The fate of the Hill battle hung in the balance as they worked to coordinate artillery support against the advancing Federation forces and their formidable Leopard tanks.

Borys and Baron huddled in the trench, working quickly to establish a makeshift command post. Baron, with a determined focus, set up his radio equipment while Borys kept a watchful eye on the battlefield, ensuring they remained vigilant against any approaching threats.

"Come on, Baron, we need those artillery strikes ASAP!" Borys urged, scanning the ridge for any signs of the approaching Federation forces.

Baron, despite the pressure, expertly tuned the radio, attempting to establish a clear communication link with the artillery support. The sounds of airsoft pellets hitting the trench walls and the distant roar of simulated tanks served as a backdrop to their urgent efforts.

After a tense moment, Baron's face lit up as he successfully connected with the artillery team. "This is Private Baron, requesting immediate artillery support on the north ridge! Federation forces are advancing with Leopard tanks. Coordinates as follows..."

As Baron relayed the coordinates, Borys continued to provide cover fire, ensuring their position remained secure. Dillon and the rest of the team in the trench anxiously awaited the outcome, their defensive lines stretched thin against the relentless Federation assault.

Minutes later, the distant thuds of exploding artillery rounds resonated through the battlefield. Smoke and dust billowed on the north ridge as the simulated explosions disrupted the Federation advance. The Leopard tanks, caught off guard, began to falter, providing a momentary reprieve for the beleaguered defenders.

"Good work, Baron! Borys, keep up the cover fire. We need to capitalize on this and push them back," Dillon commanded, rallying the team for a counteroffensive.

As the defenders surged forward in the wake of the successful artillery strikes, a sudden counteroffensive by the Federation girls caught them off guard. More infantry advanced, overwhelming the defensive lines and forcing the Polish American team into a strategic retreat, abandoning their hard-fought trench.

"They're advancing! Fall back!" Lucky's urgent command echoed through the chaos, prompting the defenders to regroup and reevaluate their position. The hills, once held firmly, now became contested ground as the Federation forces pressed their advantage.

The team quickly moved uphill, scrambling to establish a new defensive stance. Huddled together again, Dillon turned to Baron, seeking information on the whereabouts of the reinforcements.

"So, Canuck, where are the rest of your comrades?" Dillon inquired, his tone a mix of urgency and curiosity.

"Don't worry, you'll see green flares soon enough," Baron reassured, hinting at the impending arrival of reinforcements.

"Borys! Spot targets for the guns; we've got more Leopard tanks coming in from the southeast," Lucky called out, emphasizing the need for quick and decisive action.

Borys, positioned strategically to observe the battlefield, swiftly scanned the southeast, identifying the approaching threat. "Leopard tanks incoming! Get ready for a fight!" he warned the team.

As the defenders prepared for the imminent clash, the distant sound of airsoft gunfire and the roar of approaching tanks intensified. The hills, once a scene of chaotic but contained warfare, now became a battleground of escalating proportions. The team, though pushed back, remained resolute, ready to face the renewed onslaught and defend the hill they had fought so hard to control.

Amid the chaos of the advancing Leopard tanks, Borys and Baron hastily worked together, coordinating artillery strikes to stem the Federation's onslaught. The duo efficiently communicated, Borys spotting targets through his binoculars while Baron provided precise fire coordination.

However, unbeknownst to them, a Ghillie suit-clad sniper within the Federation lines had identified the critical role Baron played in the defenders' strategy. Slowly crawling through the grass, the sniper prepared to take a shot that could disrupt the entire defensive effort.

As the sniper took aim at Baron, one of the M1 Abrams crew members, recognizing the imminent danger, rushed to pull him to safety.

"Don't move! Baron, staying out there is suicide!" the radio operator warned urgently.

"I'm not a coward! I'm not leaving my post!" Baron argued defiantly.

"Your post is about to be shot all to pieces!" the radio operator countered.

"My job is to call artillery strikes! I'm not running away from it!" Baron shouted back, determined to fulfill his duty.

"You're running away from airsoft pellets, not a job!" the radio operator insisted, attempting to reason with him.

"I'm not running anywhere. I'm not afraid-" Baron's words were abruptly cut short as a real bullet struck him in the head, the sound echoing through the chaos. The shock of the unexpected gunshot reverberated through the defenders.

"Stupid Canuck! He's dead! Borys, cover me as I salvage his radio!" the radio operator exclaimed, his urgency heightened by the loss of their crucial communication link.

With the radio salvaged, Borys and the radio operator swiftly rejoined Dillon and the rest of the squad. Dillon, assessing the situation and ensuring everyone was accounted for, gave a decisive command.

"Boys, we're heading up the mace to give cover to the reinforcements. Let's go!" Dillon's words spurred the team into action as they hurriedly ascended the hill, preparing to support the impending arrival of the Canadian reinforcements.

As they moved, Dillon seized the opportunity to inquire about the fate of the fallen radio operator.

"So what happened to the Canuck?" Dillon asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Stupidity," the radio operator tersely replied, a somber acknowledgment of the unfortunate incident.

"Figure. Let's move, my comrades! The Canadians are on their way," Dillon urged, emphasizing the need to focus on the task at hand.

As they pressed forward, Dillon turned to the radio operator, considering a more personal approach.

"By the way, what's your name, son?" Dillon asked, seeking to establish a stronger connection within the team.

The radio operator, glancing back with determination, replied, "Name's Wojtek, Private. Wojtek Kowalski."

"Good to have you with us, Wojtek. Let's get up that hill and give those Canadians the support they need," Dillon declared, rallying the team as they forged ahead, ready to face the ongoing challenges of the Hill battle.

The squad, filled with hope at the sight of what they believed to be the Canadian reinforcements, experienced a sudden, devastating realization. As the Federation forces began to withdraw, the anticipation for the green flares turned into a somber revelation.

"Look! Look! The Canadians are breaking through!" The driver's excitement echoed through the team, momentarily lifting their spirits.

"Where are the green flares?" Wojtek, still hopeful, questioned, seeking confirmation of the expected Canadian arrival.

"What difference does it make?" Lucky's response held a note of uncertainty.

"Well, the Canucks were supposed to use green flares to signal their approach so we would..." Wojtek trailed off, realizing something was amiss. Borys, using his binoculars, confirmed his fears.

"It's not the Canadians!" Borys shouted in horror.

Before anyone could fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, a deafening explosion erupted at their position. A Vermont T-72u tank had unleashed a live shell, tearing through the illusion of safety and hope. The devastating blast claimed the lives of half the group, leaving a scene of destruction and chaos in its wake. Wojtek, who had just moments ago been filled with anticipation, now bore witness to the loss of two comrades.

"Rudinsky! Lucky!" Wojtek's anguished cry reverberated through the hill, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his shoulders.

Dillon, amidst the shock and horror, recognized the urgency of the situation. "It's Vermont Tankery Academy! They're dead, Wojtek. We will be too if we don't fall back!" Dillon's command cut through the despair as the remaining members of the squad, some still recovering from the explosion, stumbled backward, retreating further up towards their final defensive position.

As Dillon and the remaining members of the squad hastily prepared for the imminent threat from Vermont Tankery Academy, the atmosphere on the hill became tense. Opening crates filled with live rounds and real guns, Dillon distributed the weapons, providing his team with a fighting chance against the unexpected live weapons used by the Vermont forces.

In the midst of the frantic preparations, Dillon took a moment to check the live weapons in his hands. As he inspected each firearm, his mind drifted back to a haunting memory, a flashback to the Dallas Incident.

The scene unfolded in the ruins of Dallas, Texas, within the confines of the arena turned battleground. A young Private Dillon found himself in a mud-poured trench, surrounded by the aftermath of an air-bombed attack from Vermont forces. The arena, once a symbol of competition, now lay in ruins.

The flashback revealed the stark reality of war, with Dillon's Polish-American comrades scattered in the debris. Some were injured, others lay lifeless, and a few, miraculously, emerged relatively unscathed. Medics from various high schools, including Davy Crockett High, North High, and Grand Lake High, rushed to treat the wounded.

Dillon's gaze shifted between the fallen and the seemingly unharmed. Despite the devastation, his comrades who had survived displayed resilience and readiness for the battles that loomed ahead. In that moment, amidst the smoke and chaos, Dillon recognized the harsh truth that war demanded a heavy toll.

"Sergeant Dillon, you alright?" Borys asked, snapping Dillon back to the present.

"Um... Yes... I'm alright," Dillon replied, his thoughts momentarily lingering in the past.

"So, this is it... This is our last stand..." Borys said, his tone filled with a mix of sadness and fear.

"Yes, it is... But we shouldn't give up," Dillon declared, his voice reflecting determination.

"What do you mean?" Borys asked, seeking clarification.

"Podczas mojego pobytu w Dallas byłem raz w takiej sytuacji, gdy chłopcy z Vermont byli gotowi do ataku... Nie pozwolimy im zdobyć tego wzgórza, będziemy walczyć tak jak nasi dziadkowie, którzy walczyli w obronie naszej ojczyzny przed Niemcami," Dillon spoke in Polish, his words resonating with a deep sense of purpose.

As many of the Polish Americans looked up to Dillon, he continued speaking, his voice carrying the weight of history.

"Walczyli o Warszawę w jej ostatnich godzinach! Bracie, rozejrzyj się! Ci chłopcy z Vermontu zabili większość z nas na tej wyspie. Tak jak to zrobili Niemcy podczas inwazji na Polskę, naszą ojczyznę, z której urodzili się nasi rodzice," Dillon said, connecting the struggle on the hill to the historical battles fought in defense of Poland.

"Tak, jak mówił mój Dziadek, gdy przeżywał tę bitwę, że Warszawa nie upadła... Jeszcze nie upadła! Tak długo, jak będziemy mieć głowę na karku, będziemy wracać do naszych rodzin, do Stanów Zjednoczonych i do Polski!" Dillon declared, his voice unwavering as he grabbed a war-torn flag of Poland, a symbol of their homeland. He raised it high on the pole, rallying the remaining defenders for the final stand.

Dillon's impassioned speech resonated across the hill, uniting the remaining Polish Americans with a shared sense of purpose. The war-torn flag of Poland fluttered defiantly in the wind as they prepared for the final stand against the Vermont forces.

"Za Polskę!" Dillon shouted, rallying his comrades with the fervor of a patriot. 

"Za Polskę!" echoed through the ranks as each member of the squad, fueled by Dillon's words, took their positions, gripping their real weapons with newfound determination.

As the Vermont boys charged up the hill, the defenders opened fire, creating a wall of resistance that momentarily held back the approaching forces. The cracks of live bullets echoed across the hill as the defenders fought valiantly to repel the onslaught.

Borys and Wojtek, working in tandem, coordinated artillery strikes on the advancing tanks. The thunderous explosions temporarily disabled the Vermont tanks, providing a crucial advantage to the defenders. The first wave of Vermont forces, faced with unexpected resistance, began to fall back.

Amidst the ongoing battle, a motor team from Vermont fired a well-placed shot, hitting Wojtek's radio and severing their communication link. The defenders, now running low on ammunition and on the brink of being overrun, faced a critical moment.

Dillon, recognizing the gravity of the situation, shouted to Wojtek, "Wojtek, radio in! We need the Canadians!"

"Radio Gone! We've no more support!" Wojtek responded, his voice reflecting the dire circumstances.

"We will not lose this hill!" Dillon declared, his determination unwavering. The defenders, their resolve unbroken, took aim and continued to hold their ground.

As the last remaining defenders braced for the impending charge of the second wave of Vermont forces, the shrill sound of the whistle marked the beginning of the assault. Yells and battle cries filled the air as the Vermont boys, fueled by determination, aimed to break through the remaining defenses and claim the hill for themselves. 

"Keep fighting!" Dillon shouted 

As the defenders fought tenaciously during their last stand, determined not to lose the hill, the situation seemed increasingly dire. Some of the Polish boys, wounded in the fierce battle, were dragged to the back lines by their comrades. Dillon, armed with his last magazine, braced himself for what seemed like an inevitable conclusion.

In a moment of resignation, as the Vermont boys closed in, Dillon heard the distinct sound of a plane flying overhead. A P-51, its tail painted red, soared through the sky. The sight prompted half of the Polish boys to look up, and then, to their disbelief and joy, green flares shot up into the air.

"Green Flares! Green Flares!" Borys shouted, a mix of disbelief and happiness in his voice.

"The Canadians!" Dillon exclaimed.

True to Baron's words, the Washington Academy, accompanied by Canadian reinforcements armed with live weapons, descended upon the battlefield. The combined forces of the Polish-American and Canadian squads unleashed a torrent of firepower, forcing the Vermont boys to retreat. Commandos flanked the Vermont forces from the side, pushing them back even further.

Wojtek, emerging from his cover, watched with tears of joy streaming down his face as the Vermont forces hastily pulled back and retreated.

"Look at them... They're running... We did it... We did it!" Wojtek exclaimed, a sense of triumph overwhelming the battlefield.

After the victorious defense of the hill, the scene shifted to the main forces of Grand Lake High arriving. The aftermath revealed the losses suffered by the Polish-American boys, with some Federation women taken as prisoners by the victorious forces.

Commander Graham, walking alongside Sergeant Dillon, approached, expressing regret for the delayed arrival. "Sorry I came here late... But I'm glad Commander Wesley and his boys saved you," Graham said, acknowledging the crucial intervention of the Canadian reinforcements that turned the tide in favor of the defenders.

"Thank you, Commander... But I want time to gather my men," Dillon requested, his voice reflecting the weight of the losses suffered on the hill.

"I thought I saw your squad being checked up by our medics?" Graham inquired.

"No, I mean the dead ones... I don't want to see them buried here... I want to take them home to our beloved country," Dillon explained, his desire to honor his fallen comrades evident in his words.

"I understand... They've certainly earned that, at least," Graham acknowledged, recognizing the importance of allowing the fallen the dignity of returning to their homeland. He placed a comforting hand on Dillon's shoulder and asked a more personal question, "Sergeant Dillon... Are you alright?"

"Yes... Yes, I'm alright... We'll all be home soon... They will surrender soon..." Dillon reassured, the weariness in his voice tempered by a sense of determination.

"The Federation? That's not likely, not when they have one way to counterattack us," Graham replied, hinting at a looming challenge.

"That being?" Dillon inquired.

"Their final HQ," Graham said, pointing in the direction where the Federation and Commander Chiaki and her forces were stationed. The revelation hung in the air, signaling that the ultimate confrontation was yet to come, even as the defenders took a moment to honor their fallen comrades.

A/N: Will you look at that two chapters in one go

A/n here you daily meme