08th MS TEAM SIDESTORY: TRIVIAL OPERATION (Episode.0) (Patreon)

Gundam's popularity has spawned a wealth of model kit-related content, from magazine serializations to novels and photo stories. One such project, spearheaded by Umanosuke Iida, who directed the latter half of the 08th MS Team anime, graced the pages of Dengeki Hobby Magazine from January 1999 to July 2001. With text by Toru Sonozaki and illustrations by Yukitoshi Hoya, this series promised to expand the 08th MS Team universe.

Billed as a sidestory to the 08th MS Team, the connection to the main narrative was tenuous at best. The series kicked off with Episode 0, "The Red Gundam," followed by Episodes 1 and 2, collectively known as "Snow Falling on the Sea." However, after these initial installments, the series slipped into an indefinite hiatus without any official announcement.

MOBILE SUIT GUNDAM 08th MS TEAM SIDESTORY
TRIVIAL OPERATION

The year was 0079 of the Universal Century, an era when the battle between the Principality of Zeon and the Earth Federation government, later dubbed the "One Year War," was unfolding on a global scale. From the One Week War to Operation British, through the Battle of Loum, the Zeon Forces managed to carry out three rapid-fire Earthfall operations.

The Federation, in response, initiated Operation V and the Vinson Plan.

With the successful mass production of the RGM-79, the Federation drastically shifted the military balance on the ground and began an offensive against Odessa, the Zeon's largest stronghold.

This is a tale of the soldiers who fought to the death during the One Year War.

Episode.0: Red Gundam

I was stationed out in Central Asia, tucked away on the fringes of nowhere. It was a small defensive force, just over a dozen of us, defending a post with no real strategic value. The outpost primarily existed as a stop for communication vessels dodging sandstorms. We had a single Zaku, a small luxury in this wasteland. I remember being surprised when I first saw it.

The descent was nerve-wracking, to say the least. Born and bred in a colony, this was my first time on Earth. Despite being under our control, it was still enemy territory.

But as I got used to the makeshift single-story command center doubling as a warehouse and the tent living quarters, it wasn't as bad as I'd imagined. Sure, you'd be constantly caked in dust and water was so scarce you couldn't even wash your face.

However, there's a certain laid-back vibe in an occupying force, especially when you're winning.

A couple of hours away lived a family of nomads who'd adapted to the seasonal extremes of this region. They'd help us out in various ways. The soup was seasoned with nothing but salt, and the kumis, which I found repulsive at first, became somewhat endearing. I started to appreciate the distinct 'Earthly' flavors. Of course, we had to pay for it, but there wasn't much else to spend on in this backwater.

I remember trading my bike for a horse. The plains were so vast, and the dust and debris were just too much for the bike. The dust filter would barely last three days. If it broke down far from the base, you'd be stranded. Communications were unreliable during the peak of the war, so you'd either have to walk for hours or wait indefinitely for someone to find you, only to be chewed out once you got back to base.

The horse, on the other hand, was a godsend. It didn't need maintenance, and it took care of its own feeding. And it let me feel something like "natural wind," something you never experience in a colony.

Ah, my apologies. I should be talking about that day.

We were off duty, gazing at the empty sky. We'd take turns sipping the mare's milk liquor whenever our throats got dry. It felt like we were perpetually off duty, though we did have shifts. The liquor, practically devoid of alcohol, was said to be healthy, so we drank it as a substitute for water. Maybe the Lieutenant let it slide because he was tired of the bland vitamin supplements.

And then, the level one alarm sounded.

It was a first for me, so I didn't quite grasp what it meant.

Neither did the others. We sluggishly got up, scanned our surroundings, but everything was the same. The boundless sky and the vast land stretched out in every direction. It was a scenery so unchanging, so constant, that the idea of something happening was inconceivable.

Pilot Meeta and Mechanic Buster were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. They probably knew what was coming. But the rest of us, we didn't think it was that big of a deal.

We figured it was just some dimwit Federation reconnaissance craft that had lost its way. Or perhaps an unexpected inspection from some high-ranking official. There were rumors about a particularly nasty captain.

When Meeta's Zaku rose, fully armed with a machine gun and an axe, I was taken aback.

I was a recruit after Operation British, so I had only experienced minor skirmishes, with the Zaku always holding the rear.

It was reassuring. It was, after all, massive. Having such a giant looming behind you, you'd feel almost invincible. Meeta was the same way. A stubborn fellow, unable to stand things not going his way, but looking back, he did have nerves of steel.

As the Zaku passed by the side of our trench, Meeta looked down on us from the open hatch. Maybe it was his way of saying goodbye. He was too far to see his expression, though.

But we were completely at ease, knowing we had the Zaku and Meeta.

As the sun leaned westward, we could see the Sphinx of Africa across the horizon.

It was a mirage. We were on high alert because of an illusion created by Earth's thick atmosphere. We figured we'd be laughing about Meeta and Buster's panic over dinner once night fell.

We peered through binoculars from inside the trench. A castle was approaching in the twilight shimmer.

Someone muttered, almost deliriously, "It's the Trojan Horse."

I thought it couldn't be. I also thought it must be a joke.

We realized the impending threat in an instant. An icy fear gripped us.

The Trojan Horse was approaching. The special force that stirred up the North American front and gave Ramba Ral's team a hard time. What the hell are they doing here in the middle of nowhere?! I wanted to shout.

The Trojan Horse's arm gleamed in silver light. The sound of binoculars dropping echoed.

We all knew. We all knew what was coming out of that Trojan Horse.

It was the RX-78.

Meeta's Zaku stood its ground amidst the supporting fire from the Trojan Horse, continuously firing its machine gun. The RX-78 was fast. It closed in on Meeta in an instant. And without a doubt, it aimed straight for Meeta's cockpit. A long rod piercing through the machine sparkled at its end. The Zaku's body was momentarily lifted, some part must've been damaged. After a small explosion, the internal parts of the Zaku rained down on the RX-78.

I thought it was Meeta's blood spraying out.

When it brushed aside the immobilized Meeta, its head was taken off.

With its head in its hand, the RX-78 was looking for the next victim.

We thought... it was over.

There was no way we could win.

All we had were rifles.

What could we do?

The RX-78 was approaching our hidden trench.

The ground was shaking.

One step at a time, it was getting closer.

We didn't have the slightest will to resist.

That giant had slain Meeta without hesitation.

We were going to be crushed like bugs.

We couldn't think of anything. We didn't even know what being crushed to death felt like. The only thing I was thinking was whether my mother back home would be informed properly.

If I died, she would cry, I could only think of that.

A deafening roar shook the surroundings. I thought it was the end.

I was holding my breath, waiting for an unimaginable impact.

But, nothing happened.

The RX-78 had flown off somewhere.

When night fell, we retreated.

The Trojan Horse and the RX-78 were gone.

We had no idea why they had attacked our base.

The only casualty was Meeta. His cockpit was a burnt mess, and Meeta had been vaporized. Poor guy. We couldn't even make a grave for him.

His cherished horse also disappeared in the bombardment. I hoped it hadn't been hit by shrapnel. I heard that the smell of blood attracts wolves if it gets wounded.

After that, on the way to Odessa, our entire squad was captured.

There was nothing we could do. Meeta was gone... and we were all stunned by the RX-78.

But one thing never changes, no matter how many times you ask.

The RX-78 was red.

It was red as if it had been drenched in blood.

I saw it with my own eyes.

It was, indeed, blood-red.

[From Official Records]

This battle is recorded in the Federation's archives. On October 30th, near Karkaralinsk, the RX-78 Unit 2 destroyed one Zaku II. The pilot was Sergeant A. Ray. It should be noted that around this time, the White Base had lost its rendezvous point with the supply corps and was wandering off course. Additionally, there are no records indicating that the RX-78 Unit 2 had its colors repainted specifically for this battle. The "Red Gundam" described by eyewitnesses is likely a misidentification due to factors such as sunlight reflection.