(Reposted from the EU3 AAR thread)Pirineo, SpainJune, 1834The explosion shook Marco awake. Apparently, the shell had landed in the trench behind him. He kind of wished it had hit him.“Up, up!” yelled Lieutenant Puntsok. “Every man to your post!”Marcus picked up his rifle and stood in position, placing the rifle on the edge of the trench so that just the head of the weapon was exposed. Thanks to years of digging, the trench was high enough to cover his head when standing.“I’ll go get some more ammo,” said Franco, another soldier in his regiment.Marco waited at full alert, his rifle fully loaded. Just then he heard a deafening blast right near him that knocked him to his feet. He looked to his right and saw a large crater, right where Franco was standing. Well he would have to do without ammo for now.Marco returned to his position. The air became deafening as both sides exchanged cannon fire. It was the loudest it had been in a few months. An Incan attack was coming soon, very soon.The war had gone on like this for a few years now. At first, there was a lot of movement, with the continental coalition pushing the Spanish all the way to the Pyrenees. Then, the Incans joined in and later the Russians, and the war turned into a long stalemate, with both sides staring down at each other from dug-in trenches. Marco joined the Armata di Treviso with his regiment, the Decimo Venezia when the first reserves began to be called up to the front. It had been a long and miserable four plus years since then.“Make ready!” yelled Lieutenant Puntsok. “Fire when they cross!”Luckily Marco’s unit was not in one of the front-line trenches. They would wait until the Incans were right in front of them.The haze from the artillery fire clouded his view, but he could make out figures in the distance. The Incans were climbing over the barricades and fences and beginning to get closer to the forward trenches. The Italian troops in the front began to fire their rifles, cutting down dozens of Incans in mid-climb. And of course the artillery continued to pound the air, causing the ground to tremble.After what seemed like a century, the Incans began to fall back. The artillery on both sides began to quiet down to the usual mid-day back and forth. So it was only a probing attack after all. But that means the big offensive could come soon. Maybe this is the one that would finally break their lines. The Italians and French had held their positions on Pirineo for years, the linchpin of the entire allied line. But the troops were tired and exhausted, including Marco, and one great pushed from the Incans could rout them.Marco put his rifle back down and took a deep breath. His hands were shaking. He needed some coffee. He looked out onto the battlefield again and saw a detached hand- probably Incan- caught in one of the fences, swinging in the wind. He resisted the urge to vomit and walked toward the mess trench a few hundred meters away to his left. It hurt to walk since his boots were so worn and the mud that caked them was so thick from the recent rain. The rats were likely gnawing on them as well. The food he received from his parents back in Venice didn’t last long, after all.He made it to the mess trench. To call it a trench would be technically incorrect, as it really was a little enclave in a trench big enough to hold about ten men at a time. Sitting down were three other soldiers in their ragged Italian green uniforms from his regiment that Marco knew.“Ciao, Marco! I’m glad you made it. Half my platoon blew up,” said a soldier named Giuseppe.“It was a close call. Franco got hit right in front of me,” Marco replied.“I don’t think I can take another day of this,” said Giovanni.“That’s what the bastards what you to feel like,” said Paolo. “They want to rattle us. Then those savages are gonna overrun us, and then there goes everything. Next they’re going to be burning Venice and raping our women.”There was silence for a few moments. The cannons continued to roar, as always.“You all need to relax,” said Giuseppe. “Get your mind off everything. I know just a place. Some of my French friends showed me. They owe me a few favors. We’ll all go tonight.”“I don’t know,” Marco replied. “What if the lieutenant finds out? And what if they make a nighttime raid?”“Isn’t that a good reason to get out of this shithole? And don’t worry about the lieutenant. He won’t even know we’re gone. Trust me.”He could see the fully lit house in front of them. Giuseppe didn’t tell them where they were going, wanting to keep it a surprise, but Marco could guess. They continued to climb through the undergrowth, inching closer toward the house.Marco began to think of the last time he had been in a house. It was six months ago when he was home in Venice for leave. It had helped to be back home, but he did not feel the same. Nobody understood what it was like at the front. How could they. His father, a former soldier, could at least understand the pain, even if he never faced anything like Marco did. His mother and sisters could at least treat him kindly and say how worried they were for him.The old men were the worst. He remembered a time where he walked to the local butcher to pick up some items. A group of old men who were sitting down saw him in his uniform and invited him to sit. Marco smiled and nodded politely as they outlined strategies. Dello Torre is a fool. It’s obvious the breakthrough point is here, here, and here. You chaps just need to push harder.Nevermind they had been pushing for years. Anyone on the ground knew that the only thing that could possibly cause a breakthrough was a fresh influx of Russian troops, and even then it was doubtful.Marco snapped back to reality as he they stopped in front of the house. Giuseppe rapped his knuckles three times against the small, oak door. A buxom, blonde woman opened the door.“Giuseppe! You made it. I was worried,” said the woman.“Ciao, Bernadette! Come, meet my friends. They can’t wait to meet everyone.”The group stepped into the house. It was poorly furnished and looked somewhat run-down. But Marco’s eyes were not focused on those details. In the drawing room stood three girls, each likely in their late teens or early twenties like the soldiers were.“Did you bring it?” asked Bernadette.“Of course. How could I ever forget?” said Giuseppe. He took out four loaves of bread from the sack and he was holding and threw them on the table next to him. The other girls rushed toward the table, each digging into the loaves ravenously.“I think we should look after our new friends,” said Bernadette with a look of embarrassment.“Apologies, miseurs,” said one of the girls. “We haven’t had much to eat in a while.”“No problem,” said Giovanni. Just take me to your room…”Each of the girls walked up to one of the soldiers. A small brunette walked up to Marco.“Come upstairs with me,” she said as she grabbed Marco’s hand.He felt his skin tingle. He hadn’t been with a woman in ages.She led him upstairs to a bedroom. They both sat on a small bed, the only furniture in the room.“My name is Marie,” said the girl in broken Italian. She had hazel eyes and long hair. She had a good figure, though she was very skinny.“I’m Marco,” he replied.“Where are you from, Marco?”“Venezia. I’ve been at the front for a while. What about you? I didn’t know there were many French left on the border.”“I’ve been in Pirineo my whole life. Our village has been French for centuries. There are still plenty of French areas around the border. My papa was so happy when the French troops marched in. ‘We will finally be free!’ he said. But then he died about a year ago from an artillery explosion. Me, I just want the war to end so things can go back to normal.”“I agree with you there.”The room became silent. They stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Marco had been with prettier girls in Venice. But right now she felt like the most beautiful thing in the world.She took off her blouse, leaving her small but firm breasts exposed.“Get comfortable,” Marie said to him.She undid his pants and began to stroke his incredibly erect cock.“Lie down, my sweet. We’ll forget about everything for one night,” she whispered in his ear.They began to kiss. Marco had never felt so good in his life. Soon they were both completely nude.It was a pleasant night, all things considered.It was with great trepidation and reluctance that the group returned to their stations. They promised to return to the girls as soon as they could. But now they had to face grim reality.The morning began with the usual exchange of artillery. Marco hoped it would be an ordinary day and that the cannons could spare him for a little while at least. He began to whistle and polish his rifle.“Get me some ammo,” he said to one of the younger soldiers on his right.All of a sudden, the cannon fire began to pick up in intensity. It was all Marco could do to prevent curling in a ball in fetal position. He thought yesterday’s barrage was loud, but today was deafening. Explosions ripped all across the surrounding trenches.“This is it, men!” the lieutenant yelled nearby. “Here comes the big one!”Marco peered through the smoke. Hordes of Incans began to climb the obstacles. The front line troops began to mow them down one by one. But they kept coming and soon they were fighting hand to hand with the Italian troops in the forward trenches.“Rifles loaded! Fire when they cross! Let’s throw back the savages!”Marco checked his rifle. Luckily the soldier next to him had given him the ammo right on time. He aimed the rifle and prayed.Please God. Please let me get laid one more time.Views of the frontby Otto Dixio, 1835Gameplay stuff: France, Bavaria, Russia, and me fought in a long war against Spain and the Incas. It killed hundreds of thousands of soldiers and lasted about seven years. Thewar took on a very similar shape to WWI with a very static front around the Pyrenees. Luckily France was able to force peace Spain and Bavaria, France, and I each got two provinces from him.And that is all for my EU3 avatars. Now we move onto Vicky 2 and the age of industry. What changes await the world? Find out here Final EU3 map of Italy: