While the vast desert area around the great Suez Canal typically was scorching hot by day, it was a very different story at night.
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Amongst the arid landscape of shifting sands and palm trees lying at the bank of a portion of the Red Sea was a mass of different tents erected from cloth, in addition to some buildings that had been created from raw clay. These blended together to form a sort of complex that stretched about four miles long, and three wide. It wasn’t far off from what one could call a proper town. This settlement sat just offshore, and a traveller of the many surrounding dunes may be able to see thin lines of smoke arising from the multitude of fires which burned in the distance, radiating with a warm kind of orange heat. And a little ways off from one of these fires was a rather young man in a black uniform.
Simon pressed his arms against the sides of his chest, trying his best to evade the piercing cold that had overtaken the land. His tanned face was contorted in a bitter fashion, clearly showing his discontent with being here in the first place. Simon was not by any means a tall person, being five feet and ten inches tall, and didn’t weigh very much either. This didn’t exactly help him to fare any better here, though, so it was more a curse than a blessing. His Imperialist uniform was different from the gray tanker’s trenchcoat and green soldier’s clothing, in being the color black. It was a simple, trim overcoat, and a pair of baggy chrome shaded pants that bunched up slightly towards Simon’s brown military boots as he paced back and forth at the edges of the Suez Compound. Underneath the coat he wore a white sweater, but only a portion would be visible.
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The soldier’s shiny silver hair had been cut to almost a half inch in length, as was proper military protocol. This was yet another factor working against the poor youth here, and it was getting to be far too much for him. Simon had often contemplated just deserting, but he knew it would be impossible to do with this kind of environment surrounding him. He was stuck here with no way out, all because his mother wanted to leech off of the benefits he gained for serving in the military. It also didn't help that everyone in the camp seemed to be a mess of inbred, boneheaded morons with no social etiquette whatsoever, and Simon could not for the life of him find a single person that he could get along with, let alone call a friend.
“Hey Semen, ya see anything over there?!”
One of the noticeably older soldiers sitting around a bonfire a small walk away called out to him with a chuckle that made Simon want to throw him off a three story building. The three others sitting with him joined in, laughing at the crude joke, and making the urge all the greater.
“All I see is a bunch of idiots at a campfire!”
This only seemed to spur them on even more, causing Simon to snort in disgust as he tried to distance himself from these people as much as possible. Dark thoughts ran through his mind about one day exacting his revenge, and putting those fools in their place, but for now he was only a weak and disgraced nobleman who just so happened to be the most hated person in the Ziegler family at the time.
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His body was hardly fit for any part of Africa, having grown up in the heart of Germany amongst its rolling fields and generally tolerable climates. And to think he now was cresting a sand dune overlooking the Red Sea! Madness. An old, heavy rifle was slung over his back for God knew what reason, as an attack on the Suez Garrison had never taken place since its very construction. All it served as now was a way to weigh Simon down even more as he stared soullessly at the slightly wavy body of water sitting couple hundred yards away. The water’s direction never changed despite how the wind blew. Not even slightly. It was easy to be swept away in the current, and despite this people seemed more than willing to jump in for a swim during the day. Bunch of morons.
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By far the worst part of it all was that he had gone from living the good life in a mansion to sleeping in glorified camping tents. They were lined up frame to frame, just like those peasant nomads he had heard about in Russia, with only a few buildings of any kind interspersed between the mess of ‘streets’ in between. People were often outside drinking booze or just lying about like the lazy slobs they were on the bare sand. And why was that? Because they had nothing to do. And neither did Simon, apart from occasionally fulfill his guard duty like now. The young man plopped himself upon the peak of a nearby dune, sand feeling about a hundred degrees cooler than in the day. He hugged himself harder, desperately trying to be comfortable as he turned his dull, chestnut colored eyes to the one good thing about living here: the sky. A sea of stars spread out before him, dotting the air in all possible areas to create magnificent displays, mixed in with the dusty nebulae and pale light of the crescent moon shining above. It was like God’s personal artwork on exhibition, and just the sight made the weak form of a smile creep across Simon’s face as he looked on in wonder. The sounds of distant conversation and laughter being drowned out by the sheer beauty of the night skies… Until a voice called out from the nearby camp, carrying long awaited news to Simon's Ears.
“Commander Hetzer is here! Commander Kenneth!”
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The nobleman froze stiff upon hearing that name. The compound had been expecting Kenneth for over a month now, and he had made it up to himself to be there when he arrived. Simon immediately sprung to his feet, and began dashing towards the compound as fast as his legs could take him. He didn’t need time to think about doing it either, as the legendary Kenneth Hetzer was one of the few people in the Imperialist military that Simon truly admired. It had always been a dream of his to meet the famous hero of PanzerBak in person, and Simon sure as hell was going to make his stay at the Garrison worth his while. The young soldier sprinted past the still burning campfire his ‘comrades’ were sitting behind previously, and dove into the nearest tent row. If Kenneth was going to be anywhere, it would be the northern portion of the facility. And since going around was violating his patrol route, he would need to make do with chancing a desperate rush down the center. Unfortunately, other hopefuls like him had gotten the same idea, forcing Simon to dip in and out of the small crowd of black uniformed men. With a body built like his, this was a surprisingly easy thing to do. After ducking through a select few alleyways, Simon finally found himself at the only break in the tent rows in the whole Garrison, which was the front. Here, the many tents parted to create an especially large street, which was used for the arrival of government officials or other such important people. It also happened to be the only part of the surrounding ground they had bothered to smooth out, leaving the sands below flat and almost awkward to stand on for Simon.
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As was to be expected, a huge crowd had gathered for the war heroes’ arrival, standing along the flanks of three sides of the two hundred meter gap in the outpost’s ordered structure. If one were to enter this indent, they would see a multitude of fires glowing from behind the large crowds, trails of smoke leading into the night air. Simon felt overwhelmed by how loud the throngs of fellow soldiers were, and was also forced to push his way to the very front of the crowd at the rear of the pocket. He did eventually reach the front, however, and looked out into the distance to find the tip of a small convoy of vehicles heading in their direction. It was spearheaded by the large, sleek form of a Panther medium tank. The vehicles’ sloping frontal plates joining together nicely to allow for a very dynamic form. The giant barrel of its 75mm main cannon was pointing into the air at a slight angle. Simon could hardly imagine how menacing it would look if it was facing directly towards him.
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The tank was still just an outline, slowly coming closer from the surrounding desert, but it was unmistakable without its camo. The stark grey hull was a dead giveaway. There was definitely excitement in Simon’s eyes, as he watched the convoy get ever so closer with each passing second. He almost didn’t notice two men emerge from the crowd and walk into the very center of the gap not too far from where Simon was standing. They were Admirals Joseph and Kellinger. Both of them were pretty nice people, from what Simon understood, and tried to work with what they had to the best of their abilities. The two leaders of the Garrison stood in their dark grey trenchcoats, hands folded formally behind their backs. Both wore similar colored dress pants and shoes, as was custom for the main command to do. Kellinger stood noticeably taller than Joseph, not because he was exceptionally tall, but because Joseph was more of a midget than anything. He was the butt of alot of jokes, but from what Simon recalled, he took them in good nature. Kellinger, on the other hand, was much more of a firm and strict kind of person.
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“I heard Kenneth killed two men with a single pistol bullet.”
A voice spoke out from Simon’s rear.
“Yeah, I heard he cut a man’s head off and tore the neck of some other sod out with its bare teeth!” Simon rolled his eyes at these ridiculous rumors. He respected Kenneth as a soldier, but such feats were ludicrous by even his standards. It appeared that Joseph and Kellinger had spared no expense in welcoming the man either, having set up a variety of upright torches in the welcoming area in order to provide more than enough light for his arrival. No one dared step out of line from the sides, though, or risk a most severe punishment for disrupting the arrival of an Imperialist official. Instead, all the gossip and conversation had turned into an orchestra of noise that wasn’t very enjoyable to endure. Even with all the light, it was still rather easy to see the completely cloudless sky and the stars within. Indeed, the air was quite crisp tonight, and the body heat from Simon’s fellow soldiers was enough to finally stave off the cold.
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The roaring of engines soon began to cut through the veil of chatter, however, as the great Panther entered the welcoming area, trailed by three Panzer lVs and… A rather odd vehicle that Simon had never once seen before. It was more low-profile than the rest, and was long. Sleek grey curves surrounded its hull, which immediately appeared rather low on armor. The armor was sloped, however, in almost every part, and a moderate sized cannon with an oversized muzzle break was mounted upon a pancake shaped turret. The tank seemed to be capable of far greater speeds than it was moving now, and Simon could barely hear its engine over the rest. The small procession came to a halt about fifty feet from Joseph and Kellinger, turning to line themselves up in a perfectly straight horizontal line before them, Panther tank standing in the center of the other four.
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Almost immediately, the crowd went close to completely silent as the engines cut out, leaving only faint whispers and murmurs. The slight desert wind held more volume now. Everyone who had gathered was eagerly awaiting something-anything to happen.
“Soldiers of the Suez Garrison! Salute commandant Kenneth Hetzer!” People began raising their hands to their foreheads in close to unison, and this included Simon as well. The sound of this was an echoing ‘whoosh’ that resounded through the surroundings for a split second, as the hatch atop the panther tank’s turret slid open, and a man in a dark grey trenchcoat similar to the Garrison leaders’ stepped out, hopping onto the upper hull and finally to the ground. All that were present kept up with their silent salutes as the man began making his way towards Joseph and Kellinger, stopping a few feet before them and raising a salute of his own, which the Garrison commanders both returned in kind before letting their hands drop to their sides almost robotically.
“At ease!” Joseph shouted in his deep, commanding voice, surveying the group around him. All obeyed, and watched the scene unfold eagerly. Simon dropped his hand from his forehead like the rest, and squinted in order to try and ascertain Kenneth’s appearance. Unfortunately, his line of sight was obstructed by the two Garrison commanders, leading the nobleman to grumble a little in frustration as he awaited what came next.
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After Kenneth shook hands with the two in command, he seemed to turn to the crowd before him, calling out to all present in a firm but relaxed tone that resonated with his considerable age.
“Loyal soldiers of the Suez Garrison! My name is commandant Kenneth Hetzer, and I am here to prepare you for war!” The commander started. The entire audience went dead silent as he spoke, and when Kenneth was realized this he resumed. “The Garrison has enjoyed a long period of tranquility that we all can be grateful for, but I regret to inform you that this peace is about to end. I wish for all of you to prepare for the coming storm, and I will address you all in a more formal way tomorrow. Until then, I request you stand ready.” Kenneth finished, raising a brief salute to the crowd, who returned it immediately, before pinning his attention back to the Garrison commanders once again and beginning to speak with them. Simon was rather shaken by the general’s brief speech, a chill running down his spine at that last sentence. The faces of everyone around him seemed to share his apprehension as well, murmurs were beginning to turn into hushed conversations, because the main reason that anybody signed up for the garrison was to avoid having to fight people. And from what Kenneth had just said, it was heavily implied that an invasion was just on the horizon. ‘Invasion.’ This was the one word everyone gathered here was horrified of. But this was nothing compared to what Simon heard next.
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“I will also request that Mr. Simon Ziegler meet me in my quarters.”
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