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It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Well, to make up for that lost time, let’s regale you with a tale of battles fought and glories won.

It was a time long since past, on a battlefield far removed from the golden sands of Punjab. A harsh place, where warriors fought and died for the goals of nations and the whims of politicians. How vain their blood was spilt, for the enemies of the day would be the allies of the next. Such is the dilemma of the soldier, whose fate lies in the hands of those who would squander it for the fleeting, momentary gain which slips through the fingers of those who grasp it as blessed sand.

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Bolstered by our victory in Far Eastern Russia, we continued our advance through Siberia. The way ahead was treacherous, as fortress Siberia was heavily defended with extensive infrastructure available to the defenders.

Our mission was to change that.

We deployed as per standard procedure, airborne units striking deep into enemy held territory to pave the way for the armor corps to drop in. As with the previous battle in Far Eastern Russia, this was a combined operation with Commands from across the country cooperating to achieve the objective. We were among the spearhead, and quickly maneuvered through stiff opposition to the targets. A field hospital and defensive line of forts defended the region. We would capture and hold them, buying enough time for engineer brigades to render them useless to the enemy. If they were allowed to aid the enemy during the main assault later in the day the casualties would be horrendous.

Failure was not an option.

We caught the Russian garrison unaware and made deep inroads toward the objective before reinforcements came in. Not with enough firepower or enough in numbers, however, to keep us from our targets. I called out to the air wing to begin reconnaissance sweeps and the armor to take defensive positions. I took my place in formation at the head of the rapid reaction force, barely, before the first reports of enemy paratroopers dropping in just outside the perimeter. I called for the air wing to intercept immediately, watching the demolition detail’s helicopter touch down as our attack helos streaked across the sky to repel the first attack.

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My command was down to 40% strength when the engineers were finishing the last work on the demolition charges. I’d already had 3 tanks disabled from enemy fire and was positioned back at the forward rearm and repair base. I watched as our last operational tanks fought a holding action against the incoming enemy forces. The enemy offensive was gaining steam as more units arrived on the field. I heard the engineers call for everyone to clear the area and watched as the 10 story military hospital collapsed to the ground in a cloud of dust and debris. Several miles away a fire roared as we destroyed any supplies we could not use or carry. The line of defensive pillboxes and blockhouses were destroyed, their guns captured or destroyed. Eager to leave this hornet’s nest I called for a general withdrawal to the predetermined exfiltration points.

We had set the stage for the glorious victory that was the Siberian campaign.

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The first in and the last out. We were the SEES SS, the elite of the elite. We wrote the book on warfare and brought its art to perfection. Though we are no more, our legend lives on. Politicians continue to stand behind the symbol we created in hopes of inheriting an ounce of the glory that was SEES.

But that shall be forever reserved for the men and women who fought alongside us in the holy name of Dio Brando. And nobody, not even the damned wigs can take that away from us.