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General Raelthorn Graves stood at the command table with his officers gathered around. The map of the northern region of Zambesi, where the Matalebe forces were regrouping, was spread out in front of them.

"We need the numbers before we proceed," Graves said in a firm tone, directing his attention to Captain Renfield.

Renfield nodded and referred to his clipboard. "General, we currently have 1,000 infantry troops ready to mobilize. We have 30 heavy tanks, 15 light reconnaissance vehicles, and 20 half-tracks available. There are also 10 artillery pieces positioned on the eastern approach, within striking range of the target area."

Graves nodded. "Air support?"

"The Air Force has scheduled an airstrike for 0600 tomorrow. They will deploy 12 bombers loaded with high-explosive ordnance. Their objective is to weaken the Matalebe positions before we move in. After that, they'll provide aerial reconnaissance to update us on the situation."

Graves looked down at the map, assessing the terrain. "Good. Here's the plan: after the airstrike, we'll send in three waves of infantry. The first wave will secure the main roads leading into the valley to cut off any escape routes. The second wave will flank from the east. Our tanks and vehicles will support the infantry with suppressive fire and clean up any remaining resistance."

He pointed to a narrow pass on the map. "This pass will be critical. It's their main exit. We'll position our artillery here. I want continuous shelling of that pass until we confirm it's clear of any Matalebe forces."

One of the junior officers, Lieutenant Kellar, asked, "General, what if they use guerrilla tactics to break through our lines?"

Graves answered without hesitation. "We'll keep a mobile reserve of light vehicles and infantry on standby. They'll be ready to reinforce any weak spots or respond to sudden attacks. Speed and flexibility will be key. The objective is to overwhelm them quickly."

Captain Renfield added, "We've established communication links with the Air Force. Once the airstrike starts, we'll coordinate directly with their pilots. If the Matalebe try to regroup or launch a counterattack, we can call in additional airstrikes immediately."

Graves looked satisfied. "We start mobilizing at 0500. I want all units in position before dawn. The airstrike begins at 0600, and as soon as it's done, we move in. This needs to be fast and efficient."

He paused and scanned the room. "Any questions?"

There were none. The officers stood quietly, ready to execute the plan.

"Good. Dismissed. Prepare your men and brief them. We begin at first light."

Late Night, Before the Attack

As the hours passed, the sounds of engines starting and tanks moving filled the air. Soldiers were getting into position, preparing for the operation. Weapons were checked, and final briefings were given. The tanks and artillery lined up, waiting for the signal.

General Graves stood outside, watching the preparations. Everything was on schedule. At 0600, the airstrike would begin, and shortly after, the ground forces would follow.

The attack was planned, and now it was just a matter of execution.

June 28th, 1938.

0500 Hours. Valorian Command Post, Maputo.

The sky was still dark, with the first hints of dawn just beginning to creep over the horizon. The Valorian troops were already in position, the low rumble of tanks and the occasional clanking of weapons being the only sounds breaking the stillness.

General Graves stood with Captain Renfield and the other officers, overlooking the operations from the command post. Through his binoculars, he watched as the infantry units moved into position along the eastern approach and the narrow pass that would serve as the key exit for the Matalebe forces.

"Status on the airstrike?" Graves asked, not looking away from the horizon.

Renfield glanced at his wristwatch. "The Air Force reports that the bombers are en route, General. ETA: 30 minutes."

Graves gave a curt nod. "Good. Keep monitoring their communications. I want real-time updates when the bombs drop."

Renfield responded with a quick, "Yes, sir," and relayed the orders to the communication officers.

0555 Hours.

The troops were in position. The first wave of infantry crouched low, spread along the main roads leading into the valley. Heavy tanks were stationed further back, their long barrels aimed at the Matalebe positions. The artillery was set, ready to rain fire upon the enemy as soon as they tried to escape.

Graves walked over to the radio operator and picked up the receiver. "All units, this is Graves. Hold your positions and wait for the signal. Airstrike begins in five minutes. Once the bombs fall, we move."

Static filled the radio for a moment before responses from the various unit leaders crackled through.

"Copy that, General."

"Roger, holding position."

Graves put the receiver back down and folded his arms across his chest. The weight of the operation hung in the air. Now, they just had to wait.

0600 Hours.

Suddenly, the low roar of aircraft engines filled the sky. Graves looked up, catching sight of the dark shapes of Valorian bombers high above, their bomb bays opening as they neared the target.

"Here we go," Graves muttered.

Seconds later, the first explosions rocked the valley. Massive fireballs erupted from the ground as the bombs made impact, sending plumes of dirt, smoke, and debris into the air. The ground shook as wave after wave of bombs fell, each explosion lighting up the early morning sky.

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Graves watched through his binoculars, observing the destruction below. The Matalebe forces were caught off guard, scrambling for cover as the bombs tore through their makeshift defenses.

"Signal the first wave," Graves ordered.

The radio operator nodded and immediately sent out the command. "First wave, advance."

0615 Hours.

The first wave of Valorian infantry moved forward, rifles at the ready as they approached the outskirts of the valley. The ground was still smoldering from the airstrike, and the sounds of distant gunfire echoed through the area.

"Stay sharp," the infantry commander barked. "Watch for survivors."

The soldiers moved cautiously, their boots crunching over the scorched earth. In the distance, they could see small groups of Matalebe fighters, disoriented and in disarray after the bombing. Sporadic gunfire erupted as the first engagements began.

Meanwhile, the tanks and armored vehicles rolled forward, providing cover fire for the infantry. The heavy rumble of their engines drowned out the distant explosions.

The Matalebe soldiers, desperate to mount some form of resistance, managed to set up an MG39 machine gun on a makeshift defensive position atop a ridge. They opened fired and a steady stream of bullets was unleashed towards Valorian frontlines.

The infantry immediately ducked, taking cover behind whatever debris and craters they could find. The rounds from the MG39 pinged harmlessly off the thick armor of the Valorian tanks, which continued to roll forward undeterred. The heavy tanks, designed to absorb small arms fire, pressed on, their engines roaring as they closed the distance to the ridge.

"Tank crews, target that machine gun nest," came the order from one of the commanders over the radio.

The lead tank, a heavy battle tank designated VT-44, adjusted its turret, the long barrel locking onto the ridge where the MG39 was located. The gunner inside the tank adjusted his sights, steadying the barrel as he aimed at the Matalebe position.

"Firing!" the gunner announced over the comms.

A thunderous blast erupted as the VT-44's main cannon fired a high-explosive shell. The projectile tore through the air, impacting the ridge in a deafening explosion.

"Target destroyed!"