Gryphus

October
Eastern Griffon Kingdom
Camp Boreas, 19th Regiment, Army Group South

Captain Telesca had promised something special for Greendown’s section. The following day, as the rifle platoons were sent to practice their drills in the woods, every LMG section in the battalion was called to the yard in front of the first company’s barracks, and the sight there was certainly special.

“It’s a fucking contraption,” Wingerni muttered. Even Talone, who had been quiet the past few days, had to agree: “It’s a gods damned device.”

In front of the six squads was a light machine gun, bearing a telescopic sight and mounted on a tripod. With barely a single scratch in the paint, all had likely left the factories only recently.

The sergeant standing in front of them was from the technical corps, judging by the cogwheel insignia on the cuffs of her ironed uniform. She began her explanation on the ultimately rather simple device, really just a heavy machine gun tripod modified to accept a light machine gun. They had become common in the Gryphus front, where static frontlines and long ranges made them practical and arguably a necessity. But every griffon also thought of what the tripod that weighed more than its weapon would do the moment they had to move.

Following her instructions, they spent the morning familiarizing themselves with the attachments, until they could assemble or disassemble the sets without the sergeant’s input, knew how to carry them on march or in advance, and understood the principles of the tripod’s controls. Once satisfied with their performance, the sergeant started an exercise that Talonico had seen the heavy machine guns do time and time again, always resulting in a pang of pity.

Pick up the pieces, run around the barracks, and set up the weapon again. A combination of physical and technical training. With every round trip around the barracks they moved a little slower, but also set the weapon up a little faster.

During the ninth round Talonico’s ears picked up a metallic clanking noise. Bluecrest, who was carrying the tripod, also noticed it. “Corp… I’m clicking.”

The sound came with every strained step the brown griffon took, indicating something was wrong with the device. Wingerni, a few steps behind Bluecrest, came to a different conclusion. Even through his panting he managed a joke. “It's just your balls. Pure steel!”

They rounded the final corner. Bluecrest set the tripod down, and Talonico noticed one of the controls had gotten loose. He tightened its screw, and when they next set off the tripod made no extra sounds. “Corp,” Bluecrest said, looking concerned. “I think you stole my balls.”

They managed to repeat the exercise five times before the sergeant finally called them off. By then they were all walking dead.

When the rest of the company returned from the day’s training, they found the machine gun section lounging in their barracks room. Canales was the first to make the discovery, but her quip about them having lazed the whole day resulted in only a few disinterested grunts. Now curious, the black griffoness made her way to Talonico, who was seated at a small wooden desk, going through a pair of papers with a pen in claw.

“What’s this?” Canales asked, stepping deeper into the room. Wordlessly, Talonico passed her the paper. It was the second squad’s equipment list, seemingly having just come through the typewriter. Canales’ brown eyes scanned through the lines of text, looking for whatever oddity had caused their exhaustion. Finally she found it, and after a second of disbelieving silence snorted in amusement.

“I’m sorry, but that’s kind of funny.”

“Funny?” Greendown growled from his bed where he was reading the tripod’s manual. “We’re a light machine gun. Someone clearly forgot what light means.”

Talonico agreed. He raised his claw to emphasize his point, a single claw raised. No words left his beak however, as the various complaints that he normally wouldn’t voice competed to make themselves heard. Finally he managed to speak. “Ten kilograms. The tripod weighs ten kilograms.

“That’s the fun part. Also that it’s no longer my misery. By the way, where is Talone?”

“She’s out for a walk,” Wingerni said, not raising his head from his pillow.

Talone was on a prowl for additional dry rations, as well as any other non-perishable food. At the barracks again, they were much better fed than in the field, but stocking up was only smart. The griffoness was wrapped tight in her greatcoat as she made their way to the buildings behind the canteen. The duty officer had asked no further questions as she left the barracks, only reminding her to stay within the fence.

Talone did her important task alone. She didn’t dare to admit it, but she missed Milan’s company. The younger griffon was innocent, but in a way Talone found endearing. Milan could be corrupted to bad habits, and she was by no means naive, which would have frustrated Talone to no end. In addition she was good company that at times thought along the same lines as Talone.

Talone was pulled from her thoughts as she suddenly had to dodge a large maple tree. Late in the autumn, it got dark early, and she had some trouble seeing her path. And as she stumbled closer to her destination, it was the same darkness that hid the passing captain’s rank insignia.

“Halt! Why didn’t you salute? This is a disgrace!”

Talone swore under her breath. The only thing she could see was the officer’s vague outline. Before she could answer, the captain continued.

“And where are you going? You have no business here.”

“Out for a walk, ma’am.”

“Is that why you have a mess tin with you? Are you some greedy asshole not content with having enough?”

Talone’s heart pounded. She had to seal her beak tightly as she tried to think of a way out. And as if answering her unspoken prayers, the captain provided her with one.

“I have errands to run, but you will stay put. The moment I come back, you are in trouble.” She stalked past them, before suddenly stopping. “And what is your name and unit?”

“Private Perez,” Talone lied without a second thought. “Machine gun company.”

The officer marched away. The second she was out of sight, Talone spun about and ran for it. She instantly melted into the black night as she bolted through the wooded areas criss-crossing the garrison. Approaching the Second company, she saw nobody outside, but decided to slow down just in case. It wouldn’t be good to raise suspicions if anyone saw her.

The duty officer hid the magazine he had been reading as he heard the door open, and gave the striped griffoness a curious look at her early return. Talone offered no explanation as she walked to her room, almost colliding with Second Lieutenant Canales.

“Back so soon?”

“Not the weather for walks, ma’am.”

The light machine gun sections spent a few more days familiarizing themselves with their new equipment, putting theory to practice. After that they returned to their parent units, which had started training company sized maneuvers. Not a single day was easy, and the troops always returned to the barracks tired. Months worth of training was condensed to two weeks. Most would then go on to enjoy a week of leave.

When he and Greendown talked about the subject, Talonico mentioned that he would not be going. Leave days were accumulated by days of service, and additional ones with time at the frontline, and due to his stint at the hospital Talonico would not have enough days for a meaningful leave.

“One day to get home, one day there, and one day to get back. I’d just feel worse than if I didn’t go.” Instead the corporal would stay behind with a skeleton crew, ensuring that everything would be ready when the time to return to the front came.

The little time that was not spent training was either used for a few extra hours of sleep, card games, or writing letters. Talonico had begun penning one to his parents, but a second one was still in the works. Silvestro was expecting a letter, had been since Talonico had returned from the hospital, but he was not certain how to describe the days at the frontline to him. He had allowed Sergeant Carranza to pull him from that project the few times Carranza had managed to pull a sizable chunk of the unit for a few rounds of hoofball.

On the second to last day of training the entire company was called for a live-fire exercise. Judging by the distant pops of rifle fire muffled by the woods, a different company was running the same exercise already when the Second was marching down a dirt road to the exercise area. The regular firing range was empty aside from a few officers firing their pistols at targets fifty meters away.

Passing by a sentry the company marched to a grassy knoll, forming a semi-circle in front of Captain Telesca.

The company would attack a trenchline, advancing up a gentle slope covered with grass that reached up to the withers. Under the watch of Major Thunderclaw, Captain Telesca explained their plan, illustrating it with a sand table made of sticks, stones and pinecones. The light machine guns, along with two rifle platoons would provide covering fire for the attack group sneaking closer through a large copse of trees. From there the second wave would move in and help overrun the trench.

Canales noticed that in principle it was similar to some of their previous battles, but now there was much more emphasis on a stealthy approach.

At first the company ran the exercise without ammunition, going through the motions to make sure that everything would go smoothly with the real thing. Move here, fire there, toss a grenade. Everyone knew what they would do. When they returned to get their ammo, one private remarked that the enemy would not let them have a test run. He was promptly told by Arc Weld, who had manifested seemingly from thin air, that they would train with replicas of known enemy positions whenever possible.

The ammunition was shared among the griffons, weapons were loaded, and the exercise began anew. Bullets smashed into steel plates and wood panels serving as targets. Griffons dashed from cover to cover, advancing towards the imaginary enemy.

“Lights! Get in the trench and secure the position!” Captain Telesca’s order carried through the cool air.

Talonico, who had sheltered behind a birch, rose from his cover and lifted his rifle as a signal. “Come on Second! Follow Greendown!”

Talone wrenched the weapon from its tripod, which Bluecrest picked up. The four rushed up the hill, following Greendown and his squad which was several steps ahead of them. They jumped into the trench which they had dug the previous day. It was simple and lacked any concealment, like one made by a fresh recruit.

“Nico! Cover right, friendly squad will overrun!”

Talonico passed the order along to his squad.The weapon was set up and started firing at distant targets. There was an intersection in the trench between the Sergeant and Corporal, and the two kept their weapons trained on it, ready to shoot any enemy that tried to poke their head around the corner.

From the left, moving quickly along the trench, came a rifle squad followed by Canales and Telesca. Greendown gave them room, and the squad prepared to assault around the corner. A griffon pulled a grenade from a cloth sack hanging from her webbing, unscrewed the capand yanked the pull cord. With a yell she tossed the explosive.

Time froze around Talonico as he watched the grenade hit a tree cut down to little more than a barkless husk by the years its home had been the firing range. The grenade bounced and flew in a graceless arc into the trench, landing at Talonico’s claws with smoke billowing from the lit fuse.

There was a flash and a bang and Talonico fell.

“NICO!”

Canales ran past her griffons, carelessly pushing them aside. Telesca was right behind her.

“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Canales screamed, and the order was repeated along the line. Finally she stopped in front of Talonico. Smoke rose from the white griffon’s uniform, and his face was stained more than when he used coal to reduce its shine.

“Ammmm…. Am I good?” Talonico mumbled, spitting burnt potato flour from his beak. The training grenade had a real fuse, but the head was rubber instead of iron, and the explosive filler was replaced with flour. Even then he was dazed, blinking rapidly as he tried to regain his bearings.

“Yeah, you’re good,” Canales gasped. She had known the grenade was not a real one, but the fear was still real. She could only imagine how Talonico felt. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just got spooked.”

Canales wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yes,” Talonico lied, and Canales rose, helping him get up. Talonico swatted some powder from his uniform, then leaned to the trench wall for support. Canales looked at him with concern in her yellow eyes, then turned to Carranza.

“Sergeant?”

“All yours ma’am.”

Canales nodded, then stalked down the trench towards the offending griff. The professional mask was swept away by an avalanche of anger.

“Watch where you throw those FUCKING GRENADES! You just killed our own mg and my friend! If you’re not sure, then don’t fucking throw!”

Nausea rocked Talonico as he listened to Canales’ rant. He raised his head to the Sun peeking through a sparse cloud cover. He could not stop his heart from racing.