Basilisk twirled his helmet around in his hands a few times before slamming it onto his head. He was in Mongolia now, fighting Allies again. After Washington D.C. had been retaken, he and his small group had managed to escape to Canada. Though it had given up the war, there were still a few loyal Coalition people who shipped Basilisk and his men to Mongolia to continue the fight. Marshal Kirghiz Jagatai had been interested enough to issue personal orders to give the Claw troops artillery weapons and put Basilisk in charge of them. It was good to have some power again, at least the power to kill people.
Very few Mongols wanted to be in the artillery. It was mostly those who were not physically or mentally sound, but still sound enough to be in the Golden Army, who went into the artillery. All the Mongols wanted to have the honor of fighting hand to hand. Foreigners were just naturally sent to the big guns.
One of his men came running, huffing and puffing, up to him.
“Allies are coming, colonel. The Horses are ordering us to start firing.”
Laughing, one of the Claw troops said, “Do the Imps want us to shoot at the Allies or at them.”
All the Claw men laughed. They all felt slightly bitter toward the Mongols, basically for managing to continue the fight when they had been taken over.
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