If U.S. Marines vs. Roman Legions flash-fiction can get a Hollywood deal, perhaps U.S. Marines vs. Goblin Hordes fiction can as well. Our own perfidious Buckethead has put virtual pen to paper to describe The Veil War:
Lewis heard the clack-clack-clack of the claymore trigger. Explosions downrange – dozens of the goblins were down. “Mortars!” he ordered. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Explosions rent the goblin line – Lewis saw the little toy figures of goblins tossed by fire and grey smoke, but they dressed ranks and kept coming. Another salvo of mortar shells dropped a half dozen more. Most of them just got up again. How can they survive mortar fire? The goblins refused to slow.
He could hear the guttural chanting of their officers keeping the time under the eerie howl of the war horns. God, he hated that noise. The ground sloped down from the village – mostly flat and sandy here, far from the rivers. Dust and emptiness, and more dust. The dessert sun gave everything a sepia cast, like he was watching a western movie with an overeager cinematographer. The goblins came on, relentless.
“Prepare to volley fire” he said softly to Pethoukis. A week ago, he never would have imagined giving that order. But between the goblin’s damnable armor and Evan’s problems with finding a target – the only way to kill any of them was with massed fire across a front. Even machine guns were hardly worth a damn. Magic, something muttered in the back of his head. At least he could deliver volley fire faster than any civil war officer could have dreamed.
Pethoukis’ deep voice boomed out. “Company! Ready!
The Marines brought their assault rifles to their shoulders. “Aim!” Neither Lewis nor Pethoukis could remember the actual commands for volley fire. Lt. Nichols might have. But he took an arrow to the eye three days ago. They’d left the body by the reservoir.
“Fire!”
The sound was still strange to Lewis’ ears. He was so used to hearing the high-pitched popcorn pop of the M4 coming off in bursts. 57 of them firing at once, in unison, was just… odd. The goblins were now close enough that he could see sparks off their armor where rounds were hitting. They didn’t drop. Another round of mortar shells hit the line – perfect! he thought – and maybe ten more were down. 100 yards. The mortars would keep firing until the goblins were close. Danger close.
His marines fired again. This time, he saw a couple drop – head shots, he knew, because that was the only way to drop them. Their armor just shrugged off 5.56 rounds. They might have been shooting BBs for all the good it did. You had to get them in right in the eye, through the open slot of the visor. His troops were good – but still, asking for a perfect shot was asking a lot, even on the range, let alone in battle on a moving target.
He paced behind the line. His men were firing once every three seconds. Wait, he thought. He followed Jackson’s aim – another head shot. Jackson said, “Red Feather!” Lewis watched him aim at a goblin with a long, dark red feather sticking out of the top of his helmet. Another hit – but that wasn’t Jackson’s shot.
He tapped Jackson on the shoulder. “Corporal. What are you doing?”
“I’m calling the shot, sir. If we all shoot at the same guy, one of us might hit ‘em.” He looked embarrassed – “It fucks with their mojo, sir.”
If you’re really interested in this vein of military fantasizing, might look into the Salvation War:
Very much David Drake-style conservative military SF, with an odd mix of awesomeness and rage-inducing badness.
Thanks for the link.
I’m aiming more for the awesomeness rather than the rage-inducing badness. Though if I piss someone off enough that they create a whole website just for the “sole purpose of tearing this piece of shit a new one” at least I will have made a deep emotional connection with one reader.
Definitely some rage-inducing badness in Salvation War, mostly the giant Idiot Ball that the “demons” had. Apparently some demons possess people to start school shootings, but Hell as a whole is still unfamiliar with firearms. The leaders are allegedly ancient demons who think on too long timescales to notice fast recent changes, but they’re also shit at noticing or dealing with large slow changes over time like the amount of people coming into Hell. Somehow Dante is mostly correct, but Hell has a serious shortage of tempters who offer forbidden knowledge or purveyors of dark secrets or spies or diplomats or in short anyone whose relationship with humans goes beyond the animalistic. Care about Earth? Nahh, humans couldn’t possibly do anything.
These aren’t “demons”. They’re ogres.
Wow, I think I’ll definitely not check that out.