Tales from the Trenches

"The Goose Offensive"

Overheared from two Cygnarian officers while sighting their guns against the Khard trenches in Fellig. Sometime after the 'big action' in the Thornwood:

'So what was the rukus over the East Trench Line yesterday?' asked Atwood. 'Lots volley fire with support included, I heard there were wounded. Third Battery was nearly out of ammunition by the time it was over. Were the Reds trying to break through?' Shifts his field glasses to take a better look at the sector in question.

'Nah,' answered Mosley. 'I heard it was all for duck stew.' Smirks at the gawking face of his audience.

'What?! A whole company being pulled out of the line, 2 brand new Grenadier 'jacks heavily damaged and general alarm being sounded on the whole frontline for dinner?!' cried Atwood.

'Yeah,' Mosley confirmed while biting on his hoaga. 'See those birds making their way south?' He points as Atwood trains his glasses at a neat formation flying over the pockmarked trenches. 'They're longnecked Rhul Snow geese migrating to Ord for the winter.'

'What about it?' says Atwood.

'Well...' Mosley begins. 'I heard from the mess sergeant; who chatted with the supply sergeant; who talked with a line corporal being pulled out on a stretcher this morning that somebody started taking potshots at them birds as they were going over the lines, looking for duck stew in their belly for dinner. It's still not clear who actually started the shooting; and even more unclear which side really bagged the damned thing, but one of the birds fell between their trench and our's at was only fifteen feet distant from one another.'

'A foolhardy sergeant from Highgate finally decides it's his; totes a white rag and goes over the top to claim the bird. Somme widowmaker shoots between his legs before he can pick it up and a Khard sergeant holding his white cloth saunters over and claims the unlucky fowl.'

'After somme 'ead scratching and even more yelling,' continues Mosley, 'seeing that nobody wanted to die just for a warm meal, both of them call out to their biggest troopers and have them knock at each other until one is left standing. And off they go! Fists flying this way and that with their mates cheering on. But unfortunately, both of them kiss dirt with no clear winner.'

Mosley stops and sips some water from a battered dipper to clear his throat. 'Well... what happened next?' cried Atwood.

'Well...' Mosley pauses for effect. 'It becomes muddled from this point on. Somme say the sergeants decided to toss a coin for the bird, others say that they took over where their champions left off and knocked each other so bad that they lay besides their mates soon after. Anyways...' Mosley straightens, stretches then yawns.

'Their Winterguard and our Trenchers decided to settle things on their own and soon there was a free-for-all in no mans land! Argh! That would have been a sight to see - no?' Mosley looks over to the dumbfounded Atwood. 'Anyway, things were going well until somebody lobs an explosive and all of Urcaen breaks loose.'

'An you know the bad thing about all this?' grumbles Mosley. 'Is that nobody got to eat that damn goose afterwards!'

Trenchers painting by Paul Borja