Pulse-Pounding Wartime Stories -- Ori Hyomoku

An account of the Battle of Stockton, from the perspective of various members of the Women's Home Auxiliary Volunteer Unit of the Imperial Japanese Army.

May 15, 2014
Stockton, CA, North American Federation

(氷木　織 -- ORI HYOMOKU)

I love tanks. They're strong, sturdy, and no one can stand in their way.

Especially Rebs.

Oh sure, they could shoot at us with RPGs and plant IEDs wherever they want, but tanks are more than their treads and their cannons. Our tank gunners slaughtered the hell out of the Rebs while I manned the main gun.

Three of us rolled down the streets of Stockton and blasted Reb filth left, right, and center. The cavalry was here, and we were in no mood to play games with these dummies.

I loaded a shell and fired. Reb guts went flying.

A rocket sailed over our heads. Its shooter became a stain on a wall.

Grenades fell out of an apartment window. We got some distance, and there was no more apartment. Fuck the civilians; they were -- and still are -- just as guilty. The only good Reb is a dead Reb.

We made our advance toward city hall; it was clear who held the whip hand here. No enemy armor awaited us, so I figured it was smooth sailing.

I spoke way too soon.

Fucking IEDs on the road leading up to the building took out our treads, and we had to climb out of our stinking engines of death for some fresh smoky air. Klansmen waited for us, but the tank's machine guns still worked so they weren't too much of a problem.

We had to leave the tanks, though. Surrounded by friendly troops, me and the rest of the tank crew drew our pistols and advanced toward city hall, already on fire since another unit got in first. Happy as a clam, I rushed ahead with the other troops close behind, then ran inside the smoky building. Everywhere was gray and hot, but the muzzle flashes from Reb rifles showed me where to shoot. One after another, we cleared the rooms, but I wanted to get to the roof.

I ignored my CO's whining and dashed up some steps. There were some Rebs, but my bullets cured them of life.

After that, I got on the roof and saw the Stars and Bars flying around like a big middle finger to the Emperor. Watching my step, I walked over to it to pull it down.

Then an enemy helicopter showed up.

Its guns shot at me, but I rolled to the side just in time. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep this up forever, so I unclipped a grenade, removed the pin, and threw, hoping and hoping I'd hit.

I balled myself up.

Boom. Tango down. Also my right hand down, because a ton of shrapnel flew right into it.

With the last of my strength, I pulled down the rebel rag. I just tossed it away since it hurt too much to try and use my lighter.

Thankfully, the rest of the unit reached me. While the CO led me away, my buddies put up the Hinomaru.

We ruled Stockton now.

Top photo is ID 970315-N-0000S-008, taken by Photographer's Mate 2nd Class Brett Siegel, US Navy.

All my stories can be found here.

I'm Rawle Nyanzi, a professional author who seeks only to entertain. My blog is a convenient place where you can find all my writings and some of my opinions on various topics relating to politics, pop culture, and even gender.

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