by Peter Smith
“Now the only reason that enemy force is advancing on our location is because they think they can decapitate the military leadership of our alliance.”
He thrust his hand, “And that’s why we can’t run. If we try they overtake us and wipe us out. But if we dig in here, we can distract them from the last bridge in this area and give our main force enough time to get across it. We can bloody their units up and then the main force can swing in and hammer them from the side.”
Nods met his words as he addressed the men and women before him. “The odds are against us, but if we pull this off, the war ends today. Trotsky has already suffered more losses than he can afford to. If we cripple his army here and now, break them on our defense, he’ll have no choice but to surrender or be killed by us.”
He paused, “So, no stress, but the fate of humanity rests on your shoulders.”
He heard Dyer’s distinctive bark of a laugh over the line and the man slapped his young aide on the shoulder.
His RAI flashed a critical warning at him and he could hear the whine of the tank’s motors powering back up. At nearly the maximum of his visor’s ability to magnify, he could see the first of the enemy tanks start rolling down Puschkinallee street.
The air popped around them as the laser defense system engaged and an explosion occurred two hundred meters away and several meters off the ground. Tree limbs that hung over the road were ripped to pieces from the kinetic energy and shrapnel. A rain of leaves fell to the ground “Take positions now, clear the over-pressure zone!” Kellen yelled as the interceptor engaged again and didn’t stop.
The allied force scattered, Kellen sprinting to get into the cover of the six story building to the south of the tank. The M1 fired a second later. He watched as the pressure wave shattered what few windows were still within their frames, blasting them inward to pepper the inside of rooms that likely hadn’t seen movement in years.
He vaulted through a first-floor window, the tread of his boots narrowly clearing the sill. His steel toes bashed through the jagged remains of glass that protruded upward, like the teeth of some prehistoric monster. He landed on his feet and spun to get a better view of the tank.
Its turret shifted several degrees back and forth, each time it stopped it sent another high velocity dart toward another unfortunate enemy crew. He had the recon drone’s feed in the top left part of his visor showing him the results of each shot. The M1 had fire three times, but seven enemy armored vehicles were belching smoke. The high velocity darts having carried their mass through the initial targets and into those vehicles located directly behind them.
Now the enemy armored vehicles were dispersing, making it harder for his tank to score multiple kills with a single round. He could see them maneuvering to advance on this location from several directions at the same time. They would likely try to get his force into the center of a flattened U, that way they could attack them from many directions without risk of hitting themselves. Supporting this assumption was the movement of enemy infantry, as they worked their way through buildings on either side of the two roads that led to him.
The 96a freeway ran perpendicular to the two roads that his force was at the vertex of. A line of buildings ran along the freeway and he could see armored vehicles and enemy infantry using the mass of the buildings to give themselves cover as they planned their next moves. It had become a staging area of sorts. He shared the reconnaissance imagery with the tank commander.
“Lieutenant, do you see those enemy troopers behind the line of buildings?” He highlighted the location.
“Yes, sir” came the response from the tank commander, safely ensconced within the armored vehicle with his driver and gunner.
“Show them they can’t hide from an Abrams.”
“Oorah!” The man said and Kellen was sure he could hear the eagerness in his voice.
The turret of the tank twitched and then fired, dust around the tank kicking up into a cloud as the pressure wave from the launch of the dart disrupted it. The munition flew across the four hundred and twenty meters separating them from their enemy. It passed through two separate buildings, one directly in front of the tank and the other that the enemy soldiers were using for cover. Masonry and ancient office furniture meant nothing to a tungsten rod traveling at supersonic speeds.
Kellen saw a blast of dust envelope the soldiers on the other side of the building, beside the freeway. The tank fired again, and an APC behind cover exploded, taking a number of the enemy with it. Their shock dissipating, Trotsky’s soldiers quickly scattered, dispersing themselves and trying to avoid the attack that they likely still didn’t know the origin of.
Explosions ripped apart the air above the Marine position. He could see as debris peppered the concrete and asphalt of the neglected road and sidewalks. Metal shards pinged off the top of the tank’s armor as a storm of shrapnel fell upon it, the laser defense system firing as rapidly as it could to intercept ordinance being hurled at their location.
An explosion shook the ground, and he gripped onto a desk. The tank moved, shifting it’s location and making it harder for the enemy artillery and rocket fire to find it. He could see their infantry and armored vehicles advancing down the side streets and knew that they would need to repel the Russian advance momentarily.
He found the nearest stairwell and rushed to the top floor where many of his men were. He had issued orders to other parts of their thrown together force, separating them into multiple buildings. With the volume of high explosives the Russian alliance was throwing their way, it was best to stay in doors and receive some protection from the flying material. As he ran to the wall overlooking his enemy’s advance, he took in the sight of a tree that had grown up through the floors; it served as an example of how this area was being reclaimed by nature.
He snapped his focus back to the battle unfolding before him. He slid to a stop, his mass impacting against the wall, brining him to a stop. Several of his Marines were in cover positions, using the building to absorb some of the kinetic energy from enemy munitions. The wall wouldn’t stop all of it, but any time the small arms fire and shrapnel could have some of its kinetic punch dispersed before hitting your armor, it was a good thing. The less velocity it had when it impacted with you, the more likely your armor was to shrug it off.
He looked down the line of his men and saw both Dyer and his subordinate, YT with him. He shifted his focus from them to the data streaming into his visor. The tactical view spread before him was detailed and could confuse if you allowed it to overwhelm you. Concern filled him for a moment. He should be viewing the battle from the strategic view, receiving information from the variety of front-line units that were engaged in combat just as he was.
He shook his head, as if he was trying to shake the guilt free. Williams had returned hours ago from his mission to destroy the enemy forward command vehicle. That act alone had given his retreating units enough time to make it to Berlin to dig in and avoid being overrun in their withdrawal.
Williams and Colonel Rommel could handle the big view of how the battle should be fought. No one else was more qualified than Williams in interpreting battle field intelligence as it emerged, unit capabilities and logistics. Rommel was an expert tactician. Kellen was here and committed. No amount of second guessing would change that. There was a voice within that chided him for constantly being involved in the fight as directly as he was.
He focused on the tactical feed, “They’re in the elementary school directly across the clearing from us, Hammer 3,” he said using the tank’s call sign, “Can you advance and fire on the building, I’d prefer to discourage them from getting fortified in there.”
The tank commander’s voice came back strained, “Negative sir, engaging long range enemy ord…” The man’s voice was interrupted by a loud clang and then silence.
“Hammer 3, report.” Kellen ordered, switching his observational view to the tank. Smoke obscured his vision. A second later he saw the tank backing out of the
cloud and the commander’s voice came back.
“Took a hit to the frontal armor, no breech.”
“Are you still combat effective?” Kellen asked.
“Yes sir, but unable to maintain position, enemy armor is flanking from multiple locations.”
As if in response to the statement, the tank rocked backward, it’s main gun engaging a target in the distance. On his screen an explosion ripped through the Russian force, but it didn’t seem to matter in the long run. Several new armored unit’s had arrived to replace those the Abrams had destroyed and worst yet, Kellen was seeing drone launchers pulling into the area of operation. But this was the plan. As grim as it was for them, the Russian advance was focusing here as planned. In Trotsky’s obsessive goal to decapitate the military leadership of his enemy, he was losing focus on what his actual goals should be.
Elements of the enemy unit that had occupied the school across from his position were now leaving the exterior doors, preparing to rush the position that the Marines had set up in. They likely suspected that his men were here, knowing that this would be an ideal location for the defenders of the tank to position themselves within. That would explain why he was seeing them preparing to send out a fire team to scout the building first. Thermal imaging data allowed Kellen to see Trotsky’s forces setting up fire support positions within the building. That would allow them to suppress Kellen’s Marines while their team of soldiers were sprinting across the distance.
Kellen nodded, they might not have been as good as his Marines, but at least they were professional. They were also getting better at war-fighting. In the months since this conflict had begun, he’d noticed the survivors in Trotsky’s army were improving in their efficiency and skill. War was a prime example of Darwinism in action.
The Abrams was also in trouble. Kellen had another squad across the street, in a cluster of buildings to prevent the tank from being flanked, but they were also being pressed by an impending assault from the enemy's infantry. The tank now had a problem. If it moved it risked presenting a larger surface area to the enemy legacy units. That meant its less dense side armor could take a hit, increasing the likelihood that the tank would be knocked out of the fight, but they would be harder to hit. Or they could stay stationary, present their forward armor to the enemy and hope that its solid prewar design could absorb the damage that slipped past the interceptors.
The commander of the tank had gone for the latter. Kellen allowed himself to thank God for a moment that the Russians hadn’t gotten their hands on a Pre Fall NATO designed Pilum Anti-Tank rockets or a Russian Empire made Rogatina. Both of them would have been a significant threat to the tank. Not that what Trotsky’s forces were throwing at the tank wasn’t proving to be effective, through sheer volume some of it was getting through.
From the aerial view he could see the black scars from where enemy shells had impacted. A large divot was carved out of the front plating where any enemy armor piercing SABOT round had grazed the tank. Fortunately, its defensive systems were still active, and engaging the incoming munitions. But the Russians were hammering away at the tank with both direct and indirect fire. So their laser system had to dedicate one projector to a lower arc in front of the tank and another well into the air to shoot down the variety of rockets and mortars that were streaking in. The air popped and shook with dozens of explosions that were taking place around their tank.
Kellen sent an order to Williams, informing him they would need artillery support. The confirmation came moments later that support fire would happen momentarily. Kellen checked the ETA for the relief force that was making it’s way through Berlin. It had to reroute and take the longer way to his location because of his order to destroy the closest bridge that could support vehicles.
“Alright everyone, we have to hold the enemy for ten minutes. Our boys in the rear will start pouring firing support into the enemy, but it’s our job to suck them into here. We keep the Abrams alive no matter what, if we lose it, they will overrun us.” Green lights lit up his visor as the various teams acknowledged his message.
The wall he was leaning against exploded the very next second, sending him flying across the tattered carpet of the office floor. He rolled to a stop as he bulldozed through a flimsy office desk. As he shook off the concussive effects, he looked through his visor at the hole in the wall where he had been sheltering.
Sun light streamed through and he could see his Marines shooting through their blown out windows. He rolled onto his side, tasting blood in his mouth as he did. His HUD displayed that there were no breaches in his armor, the wall and his suit had done their jobs but it was advising him he could have received a concussion and to seek medical help at the first opportunity.
He ignored it and accessed his tactical view again and could see the entire Russian force launching a simultaneous push against their combined locations. Men were rapidly sprinting across the distance between their building and the recently occupied school, attempting to gain access to their building. Kellen gripped his rifle and pushed himself to his feet, groaning as he did. He walked over to the stairwell and placed his sights on the door. When they entered, they’d have to come through there.
The building shook again and then again, the distant roar of explosions rattled everything and on his tactical display he could see that Marine artillery was raining down upon the staging areas of the Russian forces. Then the sound of the explosions shifted, and the vibrations through the ground ceased. Instead, the artillery shells were detonating well above the battle as the Russian air defense systems came on line, picking the explosives out of the sky. His tactical map highlighted the location of those Russian interceptors and each time they fired they provided more and more information about their capabilities and locations.
Not long from now his data net would have information on their exact positions. He’d know soon enough if they had the ability to reposition and once that happened his artillery would make them regret revealing themselves.
A significant negative to all of this was that the explosions were producing a lot of smoke above the battle space. Parts of the area were being obscured by clouds of particulates, blinding him to sections of the map. They dispersed within seconds, but that could be the difference between success and failure in the modern battlefield.
His RAI did its best to layer the standard optical imagery with Infrared to ensure that he never lost sight of what was occurring but as with all equipment, it was never perfect.
For now, though, the rain of standard munitions continued to flow in. Most being stopped by the Russian interceptors both energy and kinetic based. The sky was ripped asunder by the mix of explosions that resulted from the death of both Russian and Marine ordinance. Shrapnel pelted the ground, and the aerial explosions shook the entire buildings. He was glad that most of his men had taken cover within the structures.
Already he had watched several of the Russian soldiers, rushing from building to building, fall to the ground and clutch parts of their body as shards of metal from above pierced their armor and bit into their flesh. Most of the rest were dropping from the concentrated and highly accurate fire of his Marines and their allies.
His sensors showed a group of enemy soldiers had made it into this building and were moving to the stairwell. He threw two desks onto their sides, one in front of the other, to act as cover between him and the stairwell door. The squad of enemy soldiers peeled off as they reached the landing for each floor, two-man teams readying to enter each level. They would wait until all of their teams were prepared to breach so they could act simultaneously and, they hoped, achieve surprise.
He watched as his visor presented two men that were still ascending the stairwell. Their wired frame outlines overlaid on his visor, allowing him to effectively see through the walls and the floors as his RAI processed the satellite and drone data. They stacked up on the door that would lead into the floor that he and his team were located. He could see them place a device on their side of t
he stairwell door.
His sensor suite detected the radio emission from the device as it signaled to the soldier’s triggering mechanism that it was primed and ready. Kellen’s armor adjusted itself, preparing for the concussive effect of the breaching charge. His visor dimmed and the audio feed decreased its sensitivity. The door exploded, in fact each of the stairwell doors for all the floors were ripped off their hinges at the same time.
Kellen had positioned himself and his barricade in such a way as to make sure that when they breached, the shaped charge of the breaching device would send the energy away from him. Still some concussive force rocked him and his defense, but he was prepared.
Just as expected, the two-man team that came through the door with their weapons drawn. Unlike Trotsky’s commandos, these men were equipped with standard front line battle armor.
Their speed; agility, lethality and survivability were comparable to what Kellen had experienced when he had joined the US Marine Corps in 2001. Which was respectable, but when compared to what Kellen could do with his augmented reaction time and wealth of organized tactical data, they were woefully unprepared for what they were about to encounter.
He placed three rounds directly into the center of mass of the first man as he came around the door frame. Kellen watched as his eyes locked onto him and then an instant later his would be attacker was sailing backward, slamming into his partner who had just cleared the threshold.
Before either man could hit the floor, the artificial muscles in Kellen’s suit were already anticipating the shift of his rifle muzzle to bring the second attacker into the line of fire. They stabilized his aim and assisted him in pulling the trigger back. Three more bullets leapt from his rifle and all three found the center of the other man’s chest.
Kellen was already in motion by the time their bodies had impacted on the floor. He swung around the barricades, knowing that their body armor could have stopped the bullets from penetrating. The second soldier was already trying to push his motionless friend off from atop of him when Kellen switched his rifle to single fire with a flick of his thumb and sent a bullet directly into the bridge of the man’s nose. His movement stopped, and he lay as still as his friend. Kellen shifted his aim and fired into the other soldiers exposed forehead.