Greetings fellow Troopers,
Whilst this adventure did not happen to me (I was never in Blizzard Force) it was told to me by a friend who was there that day, on Hoth. His designation code was LK-980*. This is the story as told to me, and serves as an example of our boys at their finest:
Our Finest Hour
It was cold out there. Some in Blizzard Force said as cold as death itself. I like to believe however, that it was colder still. It was not the cold that mattered to those in our squad, however. The fires of revenge ran hot in our veins. We sought to avenge the fallen at Yavin IV. Those impudent Rebels had dealt us a serious blow, killing hundreds of my kin in one massive explosion. I was still in the Academy at the time, a bright young youth of no more than twenty Galactic Standard Years.
All of my training hardened me for those next moments. Our squad's objective was a landmark known simply as "The Hill". It was our mission to take The Hill and set up a small sensor relay, pinging our position back to the main force. From there, the rest of our platoon and another four platoons after that would land. It was but a small part of the large invading force that day. The only problem was a small rabble of Rebel soldiers on The Hill.
Being squad engineer, I would not be required to shoot anything unless it was two feet in front of me. In addition, none of us could see anything past our noses- the blizzard was really kicking up. All I could see was a thick wall of whitish-blue snow. The cloud enveloped us in its tendrils, the cold probing our armor for weaknesses. The design held. The squad sniper switched his macrobinoculars to infrared mode. SX-888 told us he could see five Rebels- a mere nothing compared to our squad of five. No sooner had he spoke then he calmly relayed to us his mistake; apparently, a light tank was also in the vicinity. While our AT-STs could destroy it without much hassle, nine imperial troopers without a rocketpack could be in deep trouble. The other eight turned to me, and I knew what was required of me. As the engineer, I carried exactly four explosive charges. Signaling to my fellows, I made my way to the repulsor tank.
One of the Rebel guards looked about uneasily. A feeling of determination crept over me. The fact that I could see his face was troublesome, as it meant the blizzard was lifting. I swore silently to myself that I would accomplish the mission of destroying the light tank, regardless of the consequences. Dropping down on all fours, I began to crawl slowly up The Hill. Inch after slow, painful inch did I crest that hill. I knew I had to hurry, as the snow was rapidly dissipating. Soon, I beheld the small tank. Not nearly as big as our secret weapons, I thought to myself with a small sense of pride. As I neared the tank, I drew myself up to a kneel and began to place one of my charges. After placing it, I glanced over to the Rebels. They were laughing quietly at a joke one of their fellows had just made. It was undoubtedly blasphemous to the Empire. With a cool attitude I set the next charge, and dropped back down to a crawl. That should be more than enough to destroy the small tank. I glanced over to the cockpit. While it was frosted over, I saw the dark shapes of two Rebels inside. With a savage pride I began to quietly crawl away again. That's when I was spotted.
The blizzard had died down quite a bit, and I guess they saw the red Imperial insignia on my sleeve standing out in stark contrast to the blue snow. With a rough cry one of the Rebels began firing at me wildly with his carbine. Unfortunately the other Rebels were quick to begin firing. My survival training and instinct instigated themselves, and I began to roll down The Hill, hitting the charge detonator. In a brilliant orange and red flash the tank exploded before the operators had a chance to realize what was going on. The satisfaction of a mission well done suddenly turned to a burning, white-hot pain in my leg. I looked down, and saw that I had been shot while simultaneously reaching for my hold-out blaster. I fired with the barest of glances, and saw that I had hit my mark. The Rebel tumbled down The Hill like a lifeless rag doll. It mattered not that the other four were charging down The Hill like a herd of angry reeks. My companions charged The Hill, E-11s blazing in each stalwart trooper's hands. Soon, the Rebel soldiers lay dead on the ground. My wounds were instantly treated by the squad medic with bacta serum, and soon I was able to walk again. I pulled an Imperial flag from my cartridge belt and looked about for a pole to erect it with. I found my prize located in the wreckage of the T2-B. As I erected the flag, another member of the squad contacted the five shuttles. As they swooped down to our position, I felt a surge of pride at another accomplished mission. The other platoons were ready in a heartbeat, and soon we were marching to our next objective: Echo Base.
((*Disclaimer- This is a made up designation code. If it is your character, I am sorry. Same with SX-888))
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Our Number Is Legion, Our Name Is Death!
[This message has been edited by
LK-486
(edited June 20, 2006
8:59:02 PM)]
