The battalion and regimental commanders left the room. The surviving RAF and Argentine pilots also joined the 58th. Wellington walked up to the 58th and Lopez. "Ladies and gentlemen, the situation is grim," he announced quietly, removing his glasses and rubbing his weary eyes. "As you already know, you are the only fighter squadron left on the planet."

"Yes, sir," came the unison reply.

"Captain West," Wellington began, "as of today, I am appointing you as acting air officer commanding with primary responsibility over all air operations."

"Thank you, sir," West replied.

"Your mission, ladies and gentlemen," Wellington continued, " is to provide air support to the ground units defending this base. My suspicions have been confirmed. The Chigs have stopped conducting air raid missions against the base due to the fact that their troops are only 1.5 km from the defense perimeter. They have discovered that the shields will protect fully protect the base, and the anti-aircraft batteries are putting up such heavy fire that they are not able to fly low enough to damage or destroy the shield antennae and the power generator. Your target will be the enemy armored and infantry columns attacking the defense perimeter."

"Excuse me, sir," Hawkes interjected. "Captain West suggested attacking the enemy columns, but you grounded us."

"Leftenant," Wellington began, "I grounded you because you offered to attack the enemy columns when they were about 15 km away from the defense perimeter. You would have been massacred by the enemy. However gallantly you may have fought then, you would be of no use to anyone if you were dead."

"Understood, sir," Hawkes replied.

"Now, you are within the protective umbrella of the shields and the anti-aircraft batteries," Wellington added, putting his glasses back on. "The enemy will not attack with their troops so close to us. We, on the other hand, can coordinate our attacks. This will be a coordinated strike, ladies and gentlemen. LIDAR control will warn you of the approach of any enemy fighters. The front line units will radio the coordinates of the enemy positions. You will strafe the enemy according to the instructions of the ground commanders, and you will withdraw the moment enemy fighters appear. Let the AA crews have their fun with them. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," the pilots replied simultaneously.

"Sir, may I ask speak?" Paxton asked.

"Of course, you may, Leftenant," Wellington replied.

"When can we expect the fleet to arrive, sir?" Paxton asked directly.

"The fleet may come tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or never, Leftenant," Wellington replied. "Your main concern is the enemy on planet and not the fleet. Understood?"

"Yes, sir, CFB," Paxton replied, triggering disapproving looks from West and Hawkes.

"Would you care to denote that acronym, Leftenant?" Wellington asked suspiciously.

"Not particularly, sir," Paxton responded in embarrassment.

"Good, now get some rest. You will be alerted as to when you'll be needed." Wellington concluded. "Dismiss!"

The pilots left the Operations Room, and walked back towards their quarters. West walked up to Hawkes. "Well, Coop, does Wellington know what he is doing?" West asked pointedly.

"Point taken, Nathan," Hawkes conceded. "I now see his point of view."

June 11, 2065. Herron Defense Perimeter, 13:29 hours.

Wellington and Eugene stood on a small hill ˝ km inside the defense perimeter. All around them soldiers were scrambling towards their positions. Sergeant Lopez stood at the foot of the hill, weapon in hand. Since he was not a pilot, he took it upon himself to act as the duke's personal security guard. The enemy had been bombarding the Earth Forces position since 12:00 hours. Now, the commanders observed that the Chigs were charging towards the defense perimeters.

"All right, release the hunting falcons, Eugene," Wellington ordered as he looked through his binoculars.

"Very good, Your Grace," Eugene replied as he activated his comlink. "Scramble all craft!"

The remaining 9 fighters of the Herron garrison took off from the base, and flew towards the defense perimeter. They flew at a low altitude, at 300 meters, to escape detection from enemy fighters. Once they flew over the defense perimeter trenches, and the ground units radioed an acknowledgment.

"'Wild Cards', this is LIDAR control," the controller radioed. "No enemy air activity in sight."

"Copy that, LIDAR control," West responded.

"'Wild Cards', this is front line observation post 12," an infantry officer radioed. "We have enemy columns approximately 800 meters ahead."

"Copy that, Post 12," West replied. "Stand by for the fireworks. 'King of Hearts' to all units, go bash the pinatas!"

The pilots screamed a war cry, and moved to strafe the enemy columns. The Chigs soldiers returned fire, but the small arms fire had little impact on the fighters. The 58th wreaked havoc with the enemy, destroying numerous units on the ground. They attacked continually for about 27 minutes before being chased off by enemy fighters. They flew at full speed back to the main base with the AA batteries providing protective covering fire against the Chigs. On the way, they noticed several explosions on the ground, in the vicinity of the front line ground units. Hawkes saw an explosion near Wellington's party, and several officers being thrown to the ground.

"Wellington is down! Wellington is down!" Hawkes screamed.

"Confirm! Confirm!" West responded.

"An explosion occurred near his position," Hawkes said. "I'm going for another look."

"Negative! Negative!" West ordered angrily. "Nothing we can do from up here!"

Several minutes later, all 9 fighters landed safely on the base. The pilots quickly climbed out of their cockpits, and ran to the medical center. They arrived before the ambulances from the front lines, preceding them by about 5 minutes. Hawkes ran up to a medical orderly. "I saw the Duke of Wellington being hit," he said anxiously. "Is he okay?"

"Sir, I have no news at the moment," the orderly replied. "The ambulances have not yet arrived from the front lines."

The wailing sirens of the ambulances drew the attention of the 58th. They ran outside, and saw medical personnel tending to the wounded. They moved around the pandemonium scene, looking furiously for Wellington. They saw orderlies bringing out Eugene and Lopez on stretchers. They ran up to Eugene to see that he was unconscious, and turned their attention to Lopez. A medic was furiously trying to stabilize the sergeant while a doctor came running to his aid.

"Stand back!" the doctor shouted at the 58th as she looked over Lopez. They all watched in horror as the doctor shook her head, and pronounced the marine dead. She then moved on to the other wounded soldiers.

The 58th moved among the wounded, and inquired about the duke. None of them were able to extract any concrete information. A few minutes later, an ATV screeched to a stop outside the hospital. Wellington got out, and ran to the 58th. "How is Eugene?" he asked worriedly, removing his combat helmet.

"They just took him in, sir," West replied with relief. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thank God," Wellington responded. "The explosion only left me with scratches. Some of the other officers only suffered minor wounds. Eugene and Lopez weren't so lucky, I'm afraid."

"You're right about Sergeant Lopez, sir," Hawkes added. "You don't know how right you are."

"I beg your pardon, Leftenant," Wellington asked pointedly.

"The doctor just pronounced the Sergeant dead, Brigadier," West replied.

Wellington gritted his teeth, and ran up into hospital, followed by the 58th. He bumped into an orderly who directed him to one of the doctors. "How is Captain Eugene, Doctor?" he asked with concern.

"I'm afraid there is nothing that I can do, Your Grace," the doctor replied, his voice filled with frustration. "A shrapnel pierced his lung, and became lodged in his heart. The impact of the explosion severed his lower spinal vertebrate. It is a matter of time before the inevitable. I am so sorry, sir. There are limits to my abilities as a physician."

Wellington's expression turned sour, and he slammed his fists against the wall. The doctor and the 58th were taken aback by the sudden emotional outburst from the duke. Wellington regained his composure, and looked at the doctor. "Does he know?" he asked.

"Yes, Your Grace," came the sad reply. "He is asking for you."

"Where is he?" Wellington inquired further.

The doctor directed Wellington to Eugene's bed, and the duke headed in that direction. The 58th followed discreetly, maintaining a polite distance. Wellington approached the bed cautiously, and discovered that Eugene was barely conscious.

"I came as soon as I could, old man," he said grimly, trying to control his emotions as he sat on the bed. "I am so sorry, Leland."

"It is not your fault, Your Grace," Eugene replied weakly, taking the duke's hands in his. "It is my time to go. At least, you are able to carry on the fight."

"Leland, I......" Wellington tried to continue, valiantly trying to fight back tears. "For God's sakes, man, call me by my given name."

"It has been an honor to have served with you, Adam," Eugene continued with a resigned smile. "Take good care of Marina and Arthur."

"You know I will, Leland."

"It's getting dark all of a sudden, Adam," Eugene said fearfully as he stared at the ceiling of the medical ward, and clutching the duke's hands tightly. "Oh, God. They're coming for me."

"I'm here, Leland," Wellington assured, holding tightly to Eugene's hands. "Don't fight it. Just let go."

Eugene calmed down at Wellington's assurances, closed his eyes, blew his last breath, and died with a smile on his face. Wellington held on to Eugene's lifeless hands for a few minutes, and placed them back on the bed. He took a deep breath, and looked thoughtfully to the wall. He stood at attention, and saluted the body of his dead aide. "The soul take flight to a world that is invisible," he said quietly, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. "There upon arriving, it will be assured of bliss and forever dwells in paradise."

Wellington turned, and walked to the doctor. "Have someone prepare the bodies for a proper military burial. I'll be back later."

"Very good, sir," the doctor replied.

"My apologies to you for the sudden temperamental outburst, Doctor."

"It's quite alright, Your Grace."

Wellington put on his helmet, and walked to the exit. The 58th watched him with sympathy and understanding. Hawkes placed a hand of West's shoulder, and asked, "What was that beautiful poem he said?"

West took a deep breath, and sighed. "Those were the words spoken by Plato upon the death of Socrates."

"Captain West!" a voice called from behind.

West and his squadron looked to see who it was. A bandaged hand waved them over to a bed near a corner of the hospital ward. "Lieutenant Mirk!" West exclaimed.

"Good grief," Hawkes whispered softly as the pilots walked towards Mirk. "He is still alive. I forgot all about him."

"Hello, Captain," Mirk greeted as the pilots gathered around his bed. "What was happening just now?"

"Captain Eugene just passed away," West replied, sitting at the edge of the bed. "You remember him, the Duke of Wellington's aide."

"Oh yeah. Sorry to hear that. Please pass on my condolences to the Duke."

"I will, Lieutenant. How are you holding up?"

"I've been better, sir, considering the circumstances," Mirk replied somberly as he held up his bandaged hands. "How are things out there?"

"We have been holding out for several days now," West answered. "We're still on our own. The fleet isn't here, yet."

"They'll be here, sir," Mirk said earnestly. "Hope is all we have now."

"I won't dispute that," West agreed.

"Where is Chambers, by the way?" Mirk asked. "I haven't seen him in two days now."

The pilots looked at each other dismally. West then placed his hand on Mirk's right shoulder. "Chambers was killed in action two days ago, Lieutenant."

"NO!" Mirk gritted his teeth, closing his eyes as he tried to stem the flow of tears from his eyes.

"I am so sorry, Lieutenant," West said softly.

"Spare me the mushy stuff, Captain," Mirk spat out angrily. "Don't tell me that it's going to be all right. Don't tell me that things will be better."

"I won't, Mirk," West replied gently. "Just let it all out."

"I want to be alone, sir," Mirk said, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Okay," West agreed, gesturing his pilots towards the exit. "We'll see you later, Lieutenant."

The 58th walked out of the hospital, and saw Wellington entering the command center. West dismissed the squadron, and started walking towards the command center as well. Hawkes ran up after him. "What are you going to do, Nathan?" he asked.

"I'm going to see the Commanding Officer, Coop," West replied.

"I'm tagging along, if you don't mind."

"I do mind, but that hasn't stopped you before, Coop. Come on."

The two officers walked into the command center, and looked for Wellington. Unable to find him, they inquired with one of the communications officers who directed them to a private office. West and Hawkes walked down a hallway, and came to a door with a soldier standing guard outside. "We would like to see the commanding officer, please," West said to the guard. "Captain Nathan West and Lieutenant Cooper Hawkes of the USMC 58th Squadron."

The guard spoke into his comlink, and opened the door for the two officers. Inside, they found Wellington sitting behind his desk, nursing a cup of tea. A broken pocket-watch was lying on the table next to the teacup saucer. The duke had virtually aged since his arrival on Herron, strained by the burden of command. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he asked, putting the cup back on the saucer.

"We would like to inquire about you, sir," West replied. "Are you all right?"

"Shouldn't I be, Captain?" Wellington replied coldly, his tone conveyed anger and sarcasm. "After all, I am alive and well."

"We're concerned about you, sir," West added.

"As the commander of this garrison, I am fine, thank you," Wellington responded. "I have seen death taking my friends and colleagues for almost 10 years now. I was commissioned into the Light Infantry in 2055, two years before the end of the AI wars. Then, this war started two years ago. I was not untouched by the horrors of war."

"How do you feel, sir, as a soldier, an officer, and a man?" Hawkes asked.

"I feel grief and numb at the same time," Wellington replied. "As a soldier and a military officer, I am saddened by the loss of life, but I try to be as untouched as I can. It is a natural effect of war. As a man, I am sick of this butcher's yard. After Ixion, I prayed to God that it would be my last battle. That wasn't meant to be, and here I am. What I would give to be with my wife and son right now, instead of being here at this god-forsaken place."

"Eugene was more than your aide, right?" West asked, eyeing a framed photograph of Wellington carrying a baby together with Eugene and a woman.

"He is my brother in law, Captain," Wellington replied. "The younger brother I never had. He was commissioned into the Light Infantry about four years ago, and fought by my side at Ixion. He introduced us, my wife and I. Have you lost any family members in this damned war, gentlemen?"

"Yes, sir," West replied stoically. "My brother was killed during a mission on Planet Mors."

"Then, you know how I feel at this moment," Wellington said, turning his attention towards Hawkes. "How about you, Leftenant?"

"No, sir," Hawkes lied, triggering an inquisitive look from West. "I am an InVitro. I have no family."

"So, you were artificially reproduced, Leftenant," Wellington said somberly, causing Hawkes to clench his fists. "Don't worry, I specialize in anti-tank warfare, not in anti-tank bigotry. Your comrades are your family, Leftenant. Don't you ever forget that!"

Wellington's remarks caused both Hawkes and West to smile discreetly. "Why are we here, sir?" Hawkes asked.

"To do our duty to the best of our abilities," Wellington responded. "For the greater good of humanity."

"I may be out of line in asking this, sir, but why did the Chiefs of Staff Committee choose Herron to be part of their offensive?" Hawkes asked again.

"They did not choose Herron, Leftenant," came the reply. "I did. Operation Golden Bullet is my idea. I am responsible for this whole situation."

"You, sir?" West and Hawkes asked in unison.

"For everything here, I am responsible, gentlemen," Wellington added quasi-truthfully. "I chose Herron because I believed that it was the key to our success. I still do."

"What if you're wrong, sir?" Hawkes asked.

"Then I will die here, Leftenant," Wellington replied. "I placed this garrison at risk, and it's right that I take the same risk. If I am right, we will have achieved a great victory. If not, then the enemy will take this planet over my dead body."

"Who are you to play God with our lives," Hawkes demanded. "What gives you the right to make this gamble?"

"My rank gives me that right, Mr. Hawkes," Wellington answered coldly. "The right to command this garrison. I am not taking a gamble; I know the difference between a gamble and a calculated risk. I am just a reasonable man taking a reasonable chance, gentlemen. As a military officer, my duty to settle for nothing less than absolute victory. We are but a small part of the greater picture. We may have to sacrifice ourselves for the greater good."

"You sound cold and uncaring, sir," Hawkes said accusingly.

"Perhaps, Leftenant, in your eyes I do seem that way," Wellington replied. "But, I do assure you that I care. For those men and women at the front lines. For those who fought at my side throughout the years. For those billions back on Earth. It is sad to treat people as nothing more than variables in an equation. Believe me, my heart aches each time I have to calculate such an equation, each time I see good men and women die in the line of duty."

"Forgive me for saying this, sir, but it seems that the top brass in New York never take into account those of us fighting at the front lines," Hawkes continued. "They don't seem to know what we go through or how scared we can be at times like this."

"I know all about fear, gentlemen," Wellington retorted. "From the first day I walked through the gates of the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst until this very hour, I have never known my life to be without fear. Fear is the constant companion of each and every soldier. My only advice is to control it and learn how to live with it."

At the moment, the klaxon sounded, and the duty officer announced an air raid. Wellington stood up and walked toward the operations room, leaving West and Hawkes in his office. West turned to face his friend. "Why did you lie to him, Coop?"

"What do you mean?" came the reply.

"You lost your sister on the MacArthur," West reminded.

"You remembered."

West nodded. Hawkes simply shrugged, and walked out of the room. The pocket-watch on the table caught West's eyes as he was about to leave the room. He picked it up, and examined it closely. The inscription on the back of the watch stated, "To the man who kept us alive on Ixion. Our eternal gratitude and respect, The Light Infantry."

West put the watch back on the table, and walked out of the room.

June 11, 2065. Herron Main Base, 15:00 hours.

A guard of honor stood at attention in the makeshift cemetery as Captain Leland Eugene, Sergeant Edward Lopez and the other deceased troops of the Herron garrison were laid to rest. The resident chaplain performed a ecumenical ceremony in recognition of their religious differences. The honor guard fired a 21-gun salute, and a bugler sounded taps. Wellington was there to pay his last respects to his loyal aide, to the marine who faithfully obeyed his orders to the death, and to the numerous soldiers who did their duty. The 58th stood at a polite distance behind the duke, with Lieutenant Mirk standing in between Paxton and Morales. Wellington knelt at the mound of earth that was Eugene, scooped up a handful of dirt, and placed it in a small plastic container. "There is a corner of an alien field that will forever be England," he said quietly, turning to face Hawkes. "If you're wondering, Leftenant, I was paraphrasing Rupert Brooke."

West revealed a sad smile as Hawkes looked totally astonished. Wellington stood up, and moved to where Lopez was buried. He stood at attention, and bowed his head. After a long minute of silence, he saluted and moved to the other gravesites. He repeated the same ritual with each of the mounds, his activity witnessed by all those present. They began to realize that Wellington had an affinity for those under his command; each dead soldier represented a personal loss to him. Following his ritual, he marched off towards the command center.

The 58th quietly walked back to their quarters, too moved to speak.

June 12, 2065. Herron Main Base Conference Room, 10:00 hours.

The senior officers of the Herron garrison gathered together in the conference room, and waited for Wellington to address them. As acting air officer commanding, West was also in attendance. The video comlinks were activated to allow for the participation of the commanders of the northern and southern polar bases. Wellington entered the room with the base quartermaster, and everyone stood at attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I received an coded transmission from the fleet about an hour ago. It seems that they have been held up at Tahara, and won't be able to join us as scheduled. Until further notice, we are on our own. I have just ordered the quartermaster to distribute all ammunition and supplies to the troops in the field for as far as they go. My orders from the Supreme Commander are to hold until relieved. We have fulfilled our part of the bargain, but circumstances beyond our control have not made it possible for our colleagues to join us. The prospects are quite high that this garrison will fall without support. We do not have the resources to hold out for much longer."

"Your Grace," Hastings spoke out. "The northern polar base has taken heavy casualties, and their defense perimeter has been continuously shrinking hour by hour. They are now fighting at the base of the shield antennas. In a few more days, they will be overwhelmed by the superior numbers of the enemy."

"What about the southern polar base?" Wellington asked.

"The situation here is not as desperate, but there is only so much that we can do under these conditions," Colonel Bragansa replied. "What are our orders, sir?"

"Major Brabant and Colonel Bragansa," Wellington said, addressing the senior officers commanding the northern and southern polar bases. "I recommend that you begin the evacuation protocols! I will send as many ISSAPCs as I can spare. We won't abandon you."

"Sir," Brabant replied, "my troops and I will fight to the last round, and will stand to the last soldier."

"I will only evacuate on your direct order, sir," Bragansa added.

"Bravo, gentlemen," Wellington responded. "Well said. Ladies and gentlemen, there is no where to go. We can't evacuate the planet. Either we win or we die. Unless, you are willing to contemplate surrender. I have burdened the responsibility of command by myself. I have never conducted operations by committee. But now, I am open to suggestions."

"The Duke of Wellington's Regiment will never surrender!" Hastings asserted.

"Neither will the Black Watch!" Lindsay added.

One by one, the other battalion commanders affirmed their willingness to fight to the last. West added his affirmation on behalf of the 58th and the surviving pilots. Wellington stood up, and applauded the enthusiasm of his commanders.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "I hope it will never come to the sad probability that we may have to fight to the last. If it does, then I will stand with you. The strategy is simple. We make the enemy pay heavily for every meter they advance. This will be our last meeting, ladies and gentlemen. The next time I see you, it will either be at the victory celebrations or the here after. Well, good luck to all of us."

Wellington and the troop commanders shook hands with each other, and proceeded to their positions.

June 13, 2065. Herron Main Base Operations Room, 09:21 hours.

"Sir, I have a transmission from Major Brabant," a communications officer reported.

"Put him through," Wellington instructed, turning towards the video communications screen. "What is your status, Major?"

"Lord Duke, the enemy has smashed through our defenses," Brabant reported grimly. "The Canadians have been wiped out, and the remaining survivors of my command have retreated to the main buildings. We took along as many of our dead with us."

"You took your dead with you?"

"My troops will not allow the dead bodies of their comrades to be mutilated by the enemy," Brabant replied with grim determination as one of his aides whispered into his left ear. "The enemy is now a few meters away from my position, sir. Good bye, sir. Do not forget us!"

"Au revoir, mes amis," Wellington responded somberly. "God bless all of you."

Brabant smiled and nodded. Turning to his aide, he shouted, "COBRA!"

Thirty seconds later, the Brabant's image disappeared and the video link was severed. The specialists at the consoles tried feverishly to restore communications. "This is Herron Command Center to the Northern Base, do you copy?" a communications specialist radioed. "Major Brabant, do you copy? Please respond!"

"Don't bother, sergeant," Wellington said sadly, placing his hand on the technician's shoulder. "They're gone."

"Sir, I'm reading a small disturbance in the planet's geo-magnetic field," one of the other technicians reported. "The Richter scale is reading strange shockwaves emanating from the northern polar region. I am putting it on the main screen."

Looking at the strange wavelengths on the screen, Wellington turned to face all those in the operations room. "What you are seeing are the shockwaves of the multiple thermoneutron explosions. Major Brabant had just detonated the thermoneutron devices which were planted all over the northern base."

"Dear, God," Hastings exclaimed. "They really fought to the last."

"He and his troops have made the ultimate sacrifice, ladies and gentlemen," Wellington announced. "Such was an act of absolute gallantry. Do not forget what they did for you."

June 16, 2065. Herron Main Base Operations Room, 11:19 hours.

The operations room buzzed with activity as the main base underwent three days of intense aerial bombardment. The troops along the defense perimeter took cover in their trenches as their comrades in the anti-aircraft units reacted with absolute hostility towards the attackers. Wellington ordered the wounded to be transported to the underground shelters, and made further preparations for the anticipated breakthrough of the enemy.

"Sir, I have a message from the Southern Polar base," one of the communications officer reported.

"Put in on screen," Wellington ordered. "What is your situation, Colonel Bragansa?"

The image of Colonel Bragansa appeared on the video communications screen. "The situation is hopeless, Brigadier," he reported. "The enemy has penetrated our perimeter a few minutes ago, and are advancing towards the main compound. My troops are making their stand in the barracks and the command post. I don't think we can survive another major assault."

"You have done all that is humanly required of a soldier," Wellington stated. "You have done your duty faithfully and admirably, Colonel. It is time you think about yourselves."

"We will not surrender to the enemy, sir," Bragansa stated defiantly.

"I am not telling you to do that, Colonel," Wellington replied calmly. "Do what you think is right."

Bragansa's expression suddenly softened, and he revealed a warm smile. "It has been an honor serving with you, sir. Thank you and good bye."

Bragansa stood at attention and saluted. All the personnel in the main base operations room returned the courtesy. The commander of the southern polar base turned to his aide, and whispered the word 'COBRA'. A minute later, the video screen went blank. The operations room stared at the blank video screen in respectful silence. Wellington went to a communications console, and picked up a comlink. "Activate the public address system. I want to address the troops."

"Very good, sir," the communications specialist replied.

"Attention men and women of the Herron garrison," Wellington announced. "This is Wellington speaking. Two minutes ago, Colonel Bragansa detonated the thermoneutron explosive devices planted all over the southern polar base. Major Brabant, commander of the northern polar base, took the same course of action three days ago."

All the personnel on the main base fell silent at the announcement as Wellington's words began to take their full effect.

"3,500 of your comrades gave their lives in the defense of these two bases," Wellington continued. "Their actions exemplified all that is noble about humanity, both natural born and InVitro. I hope that we don't have to take such a drastic course of action. The last communication from the fleet states that they are advancing slowly towards us. I pray that we will survive this ordeal, and share in the victory that lies ahead. I can give you a speech about honor, duty, courage, and all the other slogans that have been imbedded into your psyche from the moment you entered military service. I will not do that. We all know too well why we are here. We need to buy time for our comrades. We need to occupy the enemy's attention so that those back home can prepare themselves for the upcoming battles in order to ensure the survival of all that we hold dear. Here I stand, and I know that you will be strong and stand with me. The enemy will take this planet over our dead bodies. This I can and will promise to you. If we are destined to go to the hereafter, then let's take as many of them along with us!"

The remaining troops of the Herron garrison cheered Wellington's announcement, buoyed by the courage of their commanding officer. They had found a renewed raison d'ętre for continuing their struggle against the overwhelming might of the enemy, believing strongly in their just cause.

Next : In The Shadow Of Greatness - part 8 of 9

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