The year 2178 came too quickly for us. We have been engaged in an hideous war which has been prolonged for far longer than most of us can remember. Our grandfathers began this conflict 50 years ago to the day and we still fight on, bearing the legacy of conflict without remorse; without fear; without end in sight.
We are Die Mechaniker.
We are still in the Ural region. This morning we encountered a small hamlet being held by three sand people and their getaway buggy. We sent a relatively minor detachment of 35 powered troops, 10 mechs and 10 skorps and they surrendered almost immediately. It was very very disappointing.
Sand people... surrendering.
As night falls in this region, the temperature drops well below -30°C. Some like to blame this on the nuclear winter which has descended upon the Earth; others like to blame climate change. We however have had our top scientists for almost 20 years try to develop equations so that when we finally take over what is left of this planet, we can balance nuclear winter against global warming.
Some of the local inhabitants we find are very very primitive. We found these two individuals in an abandoned town where the radiation levels we well over 3500 microroentgens per hour. They could only communicate in grunts and other short noises. After we had backed them into a corner, they too surrendered . It was very very disappointing.
Primitive people... surrendering.
Sunday March 15, 2178
As the morning arrived on Sunday, temperatures rose above -10°C. We are well insulated against the cold by our thermo exo-armor but these primitive people appear to have nothing more than skins from animals that they have killed.
These three primitives tried to attack a mech whilst we were in bivouac. Of course, waking us up is not something which we suggest doing unless you want to end up as a pulpy mess upon the tundra. We engaged a chase, however they escaped via some sort of armed bear cavalry. Bear cavalry? I ask you, are these primitives even the remotest bit sane? We suspect that 3500 microroentgens per hour might have something to do with it.
Primitive people... fleeing, on bear calavry.
A campaign would not be complete without a photograph for posterity. We found what appears to be a statue from over 300 years ago. It is marked "General Vladimir Vladimiros - 1802 - 1866". We do not know who in history this is; perhaps the general was a hero of this town. Alas their efforts have come to nought. The great and powerful Die Mechaniker have arrived.
Sgt Klow, Pte Illych and Pte Nvosk pose with one of our proto-plasma cannon. This is yet another victory in the name of Die Mechaniker. The rest of the battalion is off in the distance, enjoying morning provisions.
Three comrades... victorious.
Tommorrow we push towards Siberia. We expect to find very little resistance. We fear none, we dread nought, we feel no pain. We are Die Mechaniker.
Over and out.
Colonel Petr Miktau. 97th Batt. Asia Div.
15-03-2178.
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**** collected via timeslide transfer ****
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