Why would I join the army if I can’t drive a Gundam!

Chapter 317 A Letter Home

"Poor fellow!"

Watching the Federation patrol fleet advance while firing, Mark Bay, who was clinging to the Northern Song Treasure Pot on the Gevadan-class battleship, couldn't help but shake his head.

Because their choice wasn't actually wrong, it's just that they ran into themselves. The entire Zeon fleet had completely blocked the Federation fleet. Even if they had just turned around to attack the Zeon squadron on the rear, they would have found that the enemy's numbers were beyond their imagination. This was a dead end, a dead end set up by Mark Bay for the unfortunate Federation forces in order to make his own return.

At this moment, the Federation forces had entered the effective firing range of the Zeon fleet, and the intertwined artillery fire of the two fleets had illuminated most of the space, most of which was Zeon artillery fire.

Although the Magellan, which was charging recklessly, managed to hit two Musai-class ships from a distance thanks to its superior firepower, it itself became the target of countless cannon fire once it entered the Zeon's firing range.

Having advanced less than a tenth of the distance, the Magellan-class was already torn apart by Zeon's artillery fire, its bow ripped apart and its armor melted away. Yet the remaining turrets and missile launchers continued to fight. The gunners had completely abandoned safety guidelines, recklessly overloading the cooling system, even though the gun barrels had begun to glow red and deform from continuous firing.

The Salamis-class cruisers were almost identical, but their counterattacks were like waves crashing on the beach to the Zeon forces. Although several Zeon warships were hit or even severely damaged and forced to struggle to withdraw from the battlefield, their positions would be filled by a new warship the next moment.

In the space above where the fleets were engaged in battle, Federation mobile suits also clashed with Zeon mobile suits.

The Federation pilots were quite familiar with the Strongmen and Garibaldi, and the issued IFF manual contained relevant information. Therefore, when the Strongmen launched their attack, the missiles fired from the shields and the particle beams fired from the spears did not catch the Federation forces off guard. However, the numerical disadvantage could not be easily compensated for by a manual.

Just as a GM-2 had torn through a barrage of missiles fired by a powerful enemy using its beam rifle and Gatling gun, while simultaneously dodging the enemy's particle beam, the distance between the two had closed to close combat. The GM's pilot was poised to draw his beam saber when suddenly, another particle beam shot from the side and struck the GM-2.

The particle beam cleanly tore apart one of GM's legs, and then extended upwards, destroying the power nozzle behind it. Seeing the speed decrease instantly, the pilot of the GM II tried to turn the gun around and attack the distant enemy first, but the second particle beam arrived in an instant and severed the right arm of the machine again.

"Damn Zeon bastards!"

Jim's pilot had no choice but to drop his shield and try to draw his beam saber with his left hand, but the Strongman in front of him seized the opportunity to charge. Its sharp lance pierced through the Jim II's body, and the Jim II's originally bright sunglasses monitor went dark.

Not far away, a pilot of a GM-2 used his beam rifle to hit a Strongman, detonating the shield in its hand. But before he could finish off the Strongman, more Strongmen fired a dense barrage of missiles at him.

The GM-2 tried its best to intercept, but the ammunition for its first shot was quickly exhausted. It could only raise its shield and maneuver while dodging. After a series of explosions, the GM-2 barely managed to protect the cockpit with its tattered shield. But before the pilot could react by opening the shield, two lances pierced through its torso again.

Then, the two warriors simultaneously drew their lances, and the next second, the GM II exploded, shattering into pieces.

Two squadrons of GM-2s couldn't even manage a one-for-one trade with the enemy. Under the siege of more than ten times the number of Zeon mobile suits, they were wiped out in less than a few minutes, while the Zeon's losses were only a few severely damaged mobile suits.

Having dealt with the troublesome Federation mobile suits, the Zeon mobile suit units, still eager for more, swooped down to attack the Federation warships that were still struggling under fire.

But just as they were about to get close to the enemy, a dense barrage of laser close-in weapon systems gave these Zeon pilots a huge surprise.

The few superhumans at the forefront felt as if they were trapped in an airtight net, with dense laser beams constantly striking their bodies, turning them into dazzling fireworks in the blink of an eye.

Unlike traditional close-in weapon systems (CIWS), laser CIWS can fire continuously as long as the warship's engines are running. With enhanced close-in firepower, these Federation warships can truly be called anti-aircraft hedgehogs.

Undeterred, the Zeon mobile suits attempted to bypass the top and break through from the bottom, but the Federation forces also had considerable defensive firepower below, and several mobile suits were once again relentlessly attacked by their laser close-in weapon systems, causing them to explode.

However, the Federation warships, which launched a heavy attack on the mobile suits, were still unable to withstand the firepower of the Zeon fleet. In particular, after realizing that their own fleet had fired so many rounds of cannon fire but still failed to capture the Magellan, Mark Bay's Gevadan also joined the fray.

Under the salvo from this battleship, whose firepower was even stronger than that of the Gwajin, the already heavily damaged Magellan could no longer withstand the onslaught. After struggling to fire a few more shots, melting the last usable cannon barrels, the Magellan then suffered a horrific secondary explosion.

Even the Magellan-class destroyer didn't have time to release its lifeboats. After the Magellan-class was sunk, the remaining Salamis-class destroyers fell like dominoes, turning into fleeting fireballs one after another.

"Clean up the battlefield and destroy all escape boats!"

Mark Bay had no intention of leaving any survivors. After all, the Zeon army didn't have the habit of leaving any survivors. During the One Year War, they captured the surviving Federation crew members because they needed labor. But at this moment, the entire fleet hadn't even determined a docking point, so there was no need to take prisoners, since they still needed to consume supplies.

Subsequently, the main force of the Zeon fleet began to assemble and headed away from the asteroid belt, leaving only a few Musai-class ships and the Strongmen on board to search for the remaining Federation escape pods. Once found, the Strongmen raised their lances and began to charge at full speed. They didn't even want to waste ammunition, and simply charged with their lances, tearing the unprotected lifeboats to shreds.

As the last glimmer of light vanished in an instant, this part of the universe returned to its previous deathly silence.

By the time the Federation reinforcements, who could no longer receive signals from the patrol fleet, arrived, only the wreckage of friendly forces remained, drifting silently in the dark and cold space.

When the Zeon forces cleaned up the battlefield, they took away the remains of the mobile suits they had lost. The remaining Federation forces' remains could only be collected after reinforcements arrived.

Wearing heavy spacesuits, the Marines suppressed their grief and boarded the larger wrecked warships, trying to find some survivors. As long as the compartments were not damaged and remained sealed, the emergency equipment stored in various parts of the ship could support the survivors for several days.

The Marine Corps' search was fruitless. Among the wreckage, they found only charred and mangled friendly corpses, with chain tags bearing soldiers' names, numbers, and blood types floating in the dark, cold compartments. In the blown-away bridge of the Magellan-class destroyer, the Union forces also found the fallen patrol fleet commander, his limbs riddled with shrapnel holes. A Marine shattered at the slightest touch, and on his chest lay a faded family photograph.

"bump!"

With a loud bang, a piece of paper with crooked handwriting that looked like a child's was slammed onto the table by General Kinklini.

“Marcarius, listen to me carefully. The fleet you requested is ready in Gabro, and the personnel have been allocated. I only want one result, understand? One result!”

It was extremely rare for Macarius to be furious with General Jin Enklini. After all, they said they were close relatives across generations, and the old man usually always smiled and talked to him. Even if Macarius was naughty when he was a child and was beaten by his parents, the old man would open his arms and protect him tightly in his arms.

But at this moment, Makarius saw the other party's furious appearance, truly furious. His white hair seemed to stand on end, and as he roared, his spittle even flew several meters away. He himself was panting heavily because of his anger, and even his eyes seemed to be burning fiercely.

The reason for the other party's anger was the crooked letter in his hand, which looked like scribbles. On the letter, there were some dried watermarks, making the words blurred.

This letter was not directed at King Klinney himself, nor was it a denunciation letter. It was a family letter, written by a child who was no more than six years old to the Union Army.

His father was a pilot in the Federation Mobile Forces, serving in the Federation patrol fleet that was attacked.

He was supposed to spend his sixth birthday with his child after completing his patrol mission. Although the birthday celebration was still grand and solemn, one person was missing, and the family members who were with their child on the birthday had a hint of sadness in their eyes.

The six-year-old boy didn't know much. The word "sacrifice" that his family was discussing was far less appealing to him than the cake. But when the cake was being cut, he still remembered his father.

So, a letter addressed to the Federal Army was delivered by the child to the local Federal Army base. When the garrison saw the letter, they thought it was a prank. But after they found out who the sender was, the letter was passed around and eventually reached King Klinney.

"Federal Army, hello, my name is Henry Padlow. Today is my sixth birthday. My dad promised to celebrate with me, but my mom said that the Federal Army needs him to work in a very far place. I really want him to come back and celebrate my birthday with me, so could you please let him come back and celebrate with me before he goes to work..."

The letter was written in crooked handwriting, with many words misspelled and unfamiliar words replaced by circles or other symbols. The letter was short, but through those words, everyone could almost see a child writing those words while shedding tears.

Makarius said nothing; he simply stepped forward and gently took the letter from King's hand.

Although it was just an ordinary piece of paper, which could be bought for a thick stack for just one heit, it felt incredibly heavy in Makarius's hands at that moment.

"That child is asking us for their father. What should I say in response?"

King Kliny had served in the military for decades and had written countless death notices by hand, but none of those letters were as difficult to write or reply to as this one.

"Let me do it!"

Marcarius looked at the letter in his hand. He was usually a fast reader, but at this moment, he silently read the short words over and over again, even though he had already imprinted them in his mind. Several minutes later, he silently raised his head, carefully folded the letter, and put it back into the envelope with the same crooked words.

"Let me take this letter with me!"

Makarius looked at the old man, who had calmed down somewhat, and then raised his right hand in a solemn salute.

"Also, please take care of yourself!"

"You don't need to worry about me!"

Old man King gulped down a mouthful of cold tea, then returned to his chair restlessly. He then waved to Markarius, indicating that he could leave.

After Markarius saluted again and left the room, he sprang up from his chair like an enraged lion, grabbed the teacup, and smashed it against the wall.

Makarius left Gabro without a word and boarded the space shuttle. He sat quietly in his seat the whole way, and even when the flight attendants brought him his meals, he just nodded. He was nothing like his usual talkative self until the space shuttle arrived at side 7.

At this moment, on the outer side of the Blue Noah satellite (side7), an entire Federation fleet is quietly anchored. A large number of engineering robots are working tirelessly to paint new hull numbers and paint schemes on the warships, while a steady stream of transport planes are delivering supplies needed for the voyage onto the ships.

However, Marcarius's attention was not on that. After getting off the space shuttle, he headed to the war room of the Federation base, where elite fleet officers from all over the Federation were waiting for their commander to arrive.

Then, Markarius kicked open the conference room door with such force that the door couldn't even spring back shut.

"First order: Everyone, come and read this letter to me!"

(End of this chapter)