[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/zcMtADa.png[/img][/center] [center][h2]His Majesty's Governorate of Normandy[/h2] [h3]Province of the Kingdom of Great Britain[/h3][/center] [hr] [center][h1][u]Operation: French Lion[/u][/h1][/center] [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/TZAK4aU.png[/img][/center] [center][h2][u]Phase Two + 4H[/u][/h2][/center] [hr] [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/WDJLagc.png[/img][/center] [center][b]Capitaine Francis Desjardins, 1st Infantry Company, 1st Cherbourg Regiment.[/b][/center] [center][b]St-Malo Town Center[/b][/center] Mortar rounds bounced across the ancient paved roadways of St-Malo's town center, flattening barricades and blasting Norman infantry rushes into the next century. Dozens of men lay dead and dying, as scores of their comrades found cover behind anything solid enough to offer some confident protection. Brittan snipers picked off those not so fortunate, and every hour or so, the die-hard Republicans made desperate counter attacks, often to little avail. Francis peered across the town center from his entrenched position, nestled between the bodies of two Brittan zealots. He was losing men fast, and the constant ringing in his ears from an incessant mortar barrage was hampering his decision making process. He needed to take the center yesterday, and not a minute later, otherwise his entire company risked being routed. There was no air support to reach for, no tanks to lead an armoured charge; aside from a few prehistoric British warriors, the battle for St-Malo had become an inadvertent infantry slogging-fest. Though the Normans out numbered the defenders three to one, the Brittans were proving to be effective fighters, despite the widespread civil strife and starvation affecting their country. The Viceroy had planned for a lightning campaign of relative ease; instead, the Normans had been bogged down in intense street fighting. A church across the way was lit up like a Christmas tree; all muzzle flashes and sandbags. It formed the Brittan strong point in the area - perhaps the town, but without heavy artillery, there was no way the Normans could crack the nut without losing half their men. This was something the Norman Captain was desperately trying to avoid, but every minute saw another of his men cut down. The town's ancient castle, formerly a feudal bastion of power, had been taken by his British comrades before they'd even arrived at the town. It had disallowed the Brittans the possibility of a strategical retreat and subsequent siege; however, it'd also stiffened their resolve when it came to the street fighting. These Brittans weren't the rag-tag militia types the Normans had encountered earlier on either, but rather, were fanatical yet professional soldiers fighting for a Republic they truly believed in. Mixing these ingredients together had created an intense engagement in St-Malo's center mass. What the Norman Captain needed was a way out, but the 1st Cherbourg Regiment didn't possess the heavy guns. ... yet HMS Canterbury did. Capitaine Francis Desjardins pushed a hand against the side of his Ensign Battle Helmet, and took reluctantly to the task of asking his British Overseers for assistance. Rather than addressing command, and asking them to forward his message to the Frigate, he contacted the vessel directly. [b][color=fff200]"This is Capitaine Francis Desjardins, 1st Infantry Company of the 1st Cherbourg Regiment. First, second and third waves ineffective, we do not hold the town center, say again, we do not hold the town center,"[/color][/b] he spoke in heavily accented English, flinching as a mortar round exploded a few meters away. [b][color=fff200]"Say again, we do not hold the town center. The enemy have established a strong point in a church across the way, bearing coordinates 435-525. Requesting urgent fire mission from His Majesty's Royal Navy." [/color][/b]Francis took his hand away from his helmet, and ducked back down beside the two corpses he was using as shrapnel bags. All the while, Normans screamed and died around him, and the church continued to pour its rage onto anyone who dared step into its line of fire.