The Battle of Al Smehli

Rules set: Dirtside

Miniatures: Anglics (not pictured), Arabic troops using secondhand decomissioned GW Space Marine equipment

Dateline 3 Apr 2173, Mark Maiword reporting for Anglic Public Broadcasting Corporation. - Iraqqis is a world of gray, of bleakness, seen not in the cloudless air or merciless sun but in the eyes of the children.

Harkonnen fighters prepare to crush the Anglic attack. APBC Photo.

My U.N. guards caution me uneasily as I step away from the transport into the sullen street. They seem afraid that the young waifs clustered with their upturned palms may have a gun or a bomb, or that the turbaned men digging with shovels in an empty lot will turn upon me for no better reason than the cut of my clothing and the texture of my skin. Perhaps their fear is not misplaced; they are soldiers hardened by years in this place and I am but a newcomer. Perhaps I am nothing more to these people than a symbol of a culture that has time and again let them down, that takes their oil and leaves them hungry, hands outstretched, uncared for in the noonday sun.

The town of Al Smehli where I shall spend the next several weeks of my life is a study in birth and destruction, in the human fallout that greases the treads of our industrialized, interstellar society. Raw sewage steams in ditches beside the road and mothers cook in water that smells of human perspiration. The town’s three mosques stand vacant and crumbling, victims of the vicious suicide bombings that mark this world’s religious disputes. U.N. modular structures loom empty and already crumbling, occupied briefly or not at all. Only the squat military bunkers show any sign of order or maintenance; fierce-eyed Harkonnen guards tramp their perimeters in rusting armor.

Is it too much to ask for the great world-states to take a stand for human rights in this venue? We protect the rights of sea mammals on Earth and kangaroos on New Sydney. Cannot we also protect the rights of children on Iraqqis? This has been Mark Maiword, reporting.

Once places of worship, the Three Mosques of Al Smehli now shelter troops. APBC Photo.

Dateline 17 May 2173, Mark Maiword reporting for Anglic Public Broadcasting Corporation. - Many children and their mothers peer now from darkened buildings, or have fled into the desert altogether, as the streets of Al Smehli echo the tramp of booted feet and the clank of tracked vehicles. I see no sign today of the easy victory Anglican generals seem to expect. Harkonnen’s men are hardened, inured by strife and years of brushfire wars. These are not soft citizen-soldiers who demand air conditioning and fresh vegetables. They are warriors, driven to ground in their own homeland, their backs to the wall. They are fighters.

The Anglicans are outnumbered here, more than two to one; the defenders sit entrenched with full-sized war titans looming over the landscape. More disturbing are the rumors of Harkonnen’s weapons of mass destruction which may at this minute be pointed at the approaching troops. Near the deserted bazaar I can see the cones of missiles protruding from a bunker. Could they carry poison gas, or bioweapons? Perhaps even nanites, or nukes? It gives me pause to ponder the overconfidence, even the arrogance, of the culture from which I hail. What have we become, to send our young men and women into such an untenable situation? Like the Light Brigade, to follow orders unto the last.

It is tragic that the military mindset cannot acknowledge being outclassed. Why can we not admit our mistakes, and simply let peace run its course? This has been Mark Maiword, reporting.

Smoke pours from Harkonnen vehicles as automated Anglic rounds thunder home from afar. APBC Photo.

Dateline 18 May 2173, Mark Maiword reporting for Anglic Public Broadcasting Corporation. - Al Smelhi. A study in ignominy. Anglic soldiers march anonymously in their protective gear through ruins that still smolder in the day’s fading light, geiger counters and heartbeat sensors tallying the destruction they have wrought. Harkonnen vehicles litter the landscape, twisted and smoking, their crews entombed. A pile of bodies at the center of town continues to grow as searchers sift the rubble.

What is the difference between war and murder? Harkonnen’s forces were uneducated men conscripted against their will, given outdated equipment long past the point of breakdown. I watched with sinking stomach as camouflaged grav tanks tore apart ragtag units of tracked vehicles. Even the great battle titan was no match for the invaders; it froze to immobility with the first shots it received. As the battle, or slaughter, raged on and it took more fire it began to smoke and lurch. One can only imagine its unfortunate crew, young men scared and far from home, straining to flee its deadly bulk. Finally with a flash as bright as the sun its nuclear pile ignited, spreading death among all about it. The few survivors, demoralized, humiliated, faded away into the desert.

One must wonder why, seeing the vast inferiority of the Iraqqi force, the Anglics needed unleash such destruction. Moreover, one must question the very reason our soldiers stand in this place. Words come easily to the lips of liberators protecting human rights, but they ring falsely amid the devastation. Has anyone ever really believed them? This has been Mark Maiword, reporting.

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