While they waited, Bastrop quietly swept clear the ground cover near him and scooped a handful of the dark soil into his hand. Looking at it closely, a bare smile crossed his face.
“This is good for us,” he whispered to his team as he let the dirt fall to the ground. “Other than the hassle of fighting tree roots, our fighting positions will benefit from this. Dense soil with not much silica in it. Energy weapons won’t do much with this dirt.”
“Why’s that?” Perkins asked.
Hank looked to Brennan. “I’m betting that Sergeant Verro you had back in service school said something about this, right?”
Brennan nodded knowing Hank was feeling him out and possibly helping him bond with the team. “Silica goes molten when hot enough. Turns the ground into glass or lava once it cools.”
Hank nodded in return. “This stuff will get hot enough to cook you, but only if the energy hit is dead on. If that happens, you won’t care because all it’ll be cooking is your corpse. I learned how to dig a proper fighting position in service school but it was Musky and Senior Sergeant Winger that taught me about dirt. Not an interesting subject until you consider your life may depend on what kind and how much of it you have between you and some beam or projectile headed for your ass. Winger said energy weapons can actually make a human body combust. I’ve never seen it but I’m inclined to believe him. Like I said,” he emphasized with a tap on the ground, “this will help us.”
Curtis grimaced. “Combust? I’d like to stay in my current raw state if it’s all the same to you.”
“Yeah. Raw and imperforated,” Perkins added.
Word was passed down the column saying the brush ahead was very dense. In order to maintain contact the troopers would need to stay close to one another and that meant an increased risk for incurring casualties should they be attacked.
The platoon was soon on the move again but at a slow pace. At some points the foliage thinned allowing for more speed while those trailing were still mired in green. This caused an accordion effect on the column, stretching the space between soldiers as they moved in open areas and then bunching them up where it grew dense.
After many minutes of travel, Brennan looked to his rear and found he had no one in sight behind him. Slowing a little to allow those trailing him to catch up, he soon lost sight of Hank and sped up lest he become lost and alone.
He soon caught a glimpse of Corporal Bastrop’s helmet and breathed a sigh of relief. Worried about those behind, he decided to close with the intent of asking Hank what they should do.
The trail suddenly widened into a small clearing with a broad path ahead though the brush on each side was just as heavy as that they just exited. Knowing they would make far less noise on the wider path, the platoon let out a silent sigh of relief.
Brennan stopped just a few steps into the widened area and looked over his shoulder to see if those behind him had closed up. Seeing two troopers moving through the brush brought another silent sigh of relief from the young trooper. Turning to face forward, he caught movement to his left. Instinct had him bringing his rifle to his shoulder before the actual thought crossed his mind and as the butt touched his shoulder pocket he saw a trooper clad in green and black rising from a dense tangle of leaves trying to clear branches away to aim and fire the grenade launcher in his hands.
Keen Steel! he thought. Acquiring the man in his scope, he rapidly fired pair of 7mm rounds that ensured the grenade launcher stayed silent, the reports loud in the relative quiet of the woods. The man sagged and fell without uttering a sound coming to rest awkwardly with his legs tangled in the brush.
Brennan’s shots froze the winding column as startled troopers dropped to a crouch or hit the dirt prone. Perkins crossed behind Hank and knelt near Brennan, machine gun covering the area where the threat had emanated.
“Any more?” he asked in a tight voice.
“None that I can see,” Brennan replied.
“Saved us a lot of hurt, kid,” came a voice from Lee’s left. “He likely thought Hank was the last of the column. If you hadn’t dropped him, who knows how many he might’ve tagged.”
Brennan nodded but his eyes stayed fixed on the dead Keen Steel trooper resting just five paces away, the man’s face slack with half-lidded eyes staring sightlessly upward. “I just spotted him and fired.”
Corporal Musky stepped in front of Brennan, breaking the greener’s line of sight as a pair of troopers pulled the corpse from the tangle and checked the body for signs of life and intelligence information. Brennan almost seemed startled by the interruption and after blinking rapidly for a second, soon recognized the man as the team leader he’d listened to just a short time before.
“Don’t look at’im,” Musky said as he grabbed Brennan by the arm and turned him. “Don’t ever dwell on’em. Never check their ID tags or look at the nametape. You killed him all right, but leave it at that. He was a target and nothing more. A target that might’ve called arty down on us or blown holes in your squad mates. You start thinking about him being human and you’ll start feeling like you’re a murderer if you got any kind of soul. Keep some perspective. The solution is don’t look, just keep moving.”
“He’s right,” Bastrop said. “If you’re going to dwell on it, do it after we get off this rock and go find another line of work if you can’t handle it. Until then, keep your head in the game. We’re moving.”
“Remember what just happened,” Sergeant Hooton said quietly. “Watch the brush and watch it close. Keen Steel has troopers on this side of the river and I doubt that sorry son of a bitch was the last of them.”
“Recon troop from the looks of him,” Bastrop said noting the submachine gun slung over the trooper’s shoulder and communications pack on his belt. “Let’s hope our interdictors are working.”
Hooton nodded. “Nice work, Brennan.”
Forrester soon had the platoon moving again. As they neared the river they found many old trails worn through the undergrowth, making for quiet travel and providing ample opportunities for ambush.
Stopping well short of the northern bank but just within sight of the one opposite, Forrester had the platoon begin the excavation and construction of fighting positions to provide a defensible location should the need arise. Positioned on the southern side of the ridge not far from the river, they might need such cover should infantry small arms, mortars, or armored vehicle weapons take them under fire. After sending the stealthy Bridges out with another trooper to make contact with Carmag Light Infantry, Forrester began digging his own position.
“A platoon leader digging his own hole?” Perkins said with a jut of his chin toward Forrester.
“Senior sergeant or not, he’s a trooper under those stripes,” Bastrop responded. “Enough said.”
“The senior sergeants in our last outfit made us greeners do it for them,” Curtis said.
“Yeah, I’ve heard about that sort of behavior before. Sometimes line dogs like us will build a position for a squad or platoon leader if they’re busy,” Hank replied. “Knowing they’ll do it for themselves when they can makes it tolerable.”
“Lead by example. That’s what Commander Kent always looked for in senior troopers. Forrester seems to fit the mold. Hey, you think Carmag will fight?” the squad’s machine gunner asked as his assistant gunner took his place in the half dug position next to Bastrop and Brennan’s. McIntyre’s earlier animosity with Brennan seemed forgotten.
Hank nodded. “Hooton says they’re a solid bunch. He did multiple stints with their CO some years back.”
“Yeah, he mentioned it in the track. So they’ll fight, but what are they going to do if armor comes their way?” the assistant gunner asked as he hacked at a tree root with his entrenching tool. “Word was they were wary about it.”
“As we all should be. Armor has to go through the Red Light. As long as we hold the middle, they’ll cover our right flank. The deciding point will be when Keen Steel brings their armor over.”
The machine gunner shook his head. “Why not just keep them on the south side?”
“I think Hawkwood is running things like Kent did. The Red Light doesn’t fight for stalemates unless there’s no other alternative. The opfor will do everything they can to cross. They have to. They can’t win if they don’t cross. The problem is, we can’t win if they don’t cross. I’m betting that’s why the CO altered the plan.”
“Hawkwood actually thinks we can go nose-to-nose with an armored legion?” Curtis said.
“A mechanized legion, but yeah,” Hank said with a nod. “We have two fights we need to win now. An infantry fight first, then comes the armor. The trick is to keep them separate.”
. . .
Sergeant Hooton called Hank Bastrop to his position. A few minutes later, the corporal returned to his team with orders.
“We’re heading west with McCall as soon as Bridges is ready. We leave our rucksacks here, so be sure you have what you need on you.” Pulling the largest of the four rifle grenades from the pouch he carried slung over one shoulder he said, “Leave the anti-armor rifle grenades here. We won’t be engaging any vehicles. This is a sneak ‘n’ peek job so we need to stay light.”
“We keep the DP-forties?” Curtis asked in a tone that said he knew they would.
“We do,” Hank said with a smile. “We’re not asking you to carry all of them. You just gotta launch’em.”
The AA60 and DP40 rifle grenades were carried by nearly all that served in the infantry ranks and by many who held filled other roles as well.
When launched after being mounted on the muzzle devices equipping standard Model 18 battle rifles, rifle grenades provided foot soldiers with a means of destroying opposing force armor and personnel at extended ranges. Fitted with stabilizing fins at the end of a base tube that slid over the rifle’s muzzle device, a bullet fired from the rifle provided the initial impetus to launch and arm the grenade followed soon after by a boost-after-launch impulse that sent the grenade downrange. Creating a tell-tale bark followed by a spitting sound, the low-high impulse launch provided considerable striking power in a small and simple package.
The DP40 rifle grenade was a dual-purpose system some forty millimeters in diameter. Capable of wounding and killing personnel with blast and fragmentation while providing some armor-piercing capability as well, it was the primary type carried by the Red Light’s troopers.
The DP40’s larger sibling, the sixty millimeter AA60 was shorter ranged and designed to blast through armor plating and buildings but was still quite lethal to humans. Both gave mere foot soldiers a fighting chance to deal lethal blows to exosuited troopers and many types of armored vehicles.
The stealthy Private, 1st Class Bridges joined Bastrop and his troopers as they finalized their preparations. Small and raw-boned, the trooper’s eyes flashed with the impish gleam of a man who loved his job.
“You have the engineer?” Bridges asked.
“They do. I’m him,” Corporal McCall replied.
“We’re ready to go whenever you are,” Hank said. “You scouted west. Any sign of opfor?”
“Some. The Carmag team I met up with said they’d killed two near the west bridge and caught a couple others that surrendered. Saw boot prints indicating more lurking out there. Looks like Keen Steel uses more than a few solo scouts.”
“I’m guessing most of them aren’t suicidal like the guy Brennan dropped?” the squad machine gunner asked from nearby.
Bridges shrugged. “Don’t know. He might’ve just been stupid, unskilled, or unlucky. I’d guess the third choice since I led most of the platoon past him without seeing him.” Looking at Brennan, he jutted his chin at the young trooper. “Thankfully it didn’t bite us in the ass.”
“Do our allies know we’re scouting into their area?” McCall asked.
“I mentioned it, but with coms jammed I doubt many of them know,” Bridges replied. “There’re Carmag scout teams out there, so we need to take it slow. The troopers I spoke to seemed solid, but all it takes is one trigger happy yahoo to foul it all up. If everybody stays quiet and moves smooth and slow, we’ll get in clean and link up.”
. . .
Hank’s team knelt as Bridges disappeared into the thick brush ahead.
“That guy have a death wish or something?” Perkins whispered to Hank.
The corporal smiled and shook his head. “Not quite. He’s a brush hog and a sneaky bastard, that’s all. Moves through the bush like a cat. A natural born point man and scout.”
“Seems crazy to do that,” Curtis said.
“Maybe so. Be glad some of’em are around and even more so we have one in our platoon. If there wasn’t, one of us would have to do it.”
Bridges returned a short time later and announced in whisper, “I made contact with Carmag. There’s a patrol of six about thirty meters away. They’ve already scouted near the island.”
“Will they go with us?” McCall asked.
Bridges nodded. “That’s the plan. Follow me.”
. . .
Billy Bellvue’s team watched the vehicles of Keen Steel Legion across the river. Situated behind a small fold on the southern side of the ridge and observing though openings in the dense tree cover, they were the nearest Red Light element to the damaged bridge just then. Up the ridge behind them, their infantry company mates prepared fighting positions.
Matt Hicks picked an interdictor pellet from inside the collar of his combat suit and looked at it before tossing it aside. If there was any difference between their opponent’s and the Red Light’s it was beyond him.
The showers of pellets had ceased, meaning the area was likely saturated with them. With pellets still falling occasionally from temporary perches in the leaf and needle cover above, it prompted most troopers shut down several of their helmet’s visor functions if they hadn’t already. No trooper wanted their vision impaired by garbled images the helm’s artificial intelligence might bring up at the worst possible moment. Automatic enhanced sensory input based on current conditions was an option most helms offered, but one few mercs ever used. Interdictors saw to that.
Keen Steel vehicles prowled the southern side of the river but most stayed well clear of the bridge. Occasional mortar rounds from the trio of free companies to the north kept the armor on the move to avoid called fire. In response, bursts of machine guns, auto-cannons, and light energy weapons spattered the ridge along with harassing mortar fire from the south. With limits to the amount of ammunition available to each side, neither was going to expend much at this early stage unless it provided a beneficial return.
With each side still feeling out the other, things had settled into a lull after the early clashes.
This changed when one of Keen Steel’s heavy tanks rumbled near the damaged crossing and as it turned to parallel the river eastward rotated its turret to face the ridge.
“Look at that bastard,” Nelson said in a quiet voice. “Struttin’ his stuff knowing nothing up here can do a damned thing to him right now.”
“That monster is just pissed because he can’t get over here,” Vincent said.
A moment later, a bluish-green beam emitted from the tank’s main gun followed soon after by the crackling, ripping sound of the discharge.
The beam passed directly over the sniper team, the flash of light and chasing thunderclap causing them to duck instinctively. Striking nearly a hundred meters up the ridge, the cyan energy cut a sizable tree trunk ten meters above the ground with an ear-splitting crack followed by a wheezing roar. Shattering five meters of the trunk above and below the hit, sharp projectiles of green wood blasted forth to impale other trees, the ground, and several troopers. Fleeing through thick and acrid smoke generated by burning resin as the upper portion of the tree crashed to the sloping ground, a few more troopers fell.
“You had to say something, didn’t you,” Nelson said with a wincing sneer.
“What was that?” Sam asked looking up the ridge.
“I think
it was a lucky strike,” Bellvue said. “That tree went off like a bomb because its sap boiled and expanded. I’ve seen it before. The wood splits, the sap superheats and, well, you saw it.”
“Lucky my ass,” Nelson replied with a glare up the ridge. “The trees are on their side?”
“Not quite, but I’ll guarantee you the tankers took note,” Hicks said. “Stay clear of the big conifers.”
“You mean pines?” Nelson said.
“Yeah, the pines,” Hicks said with irritation. “That’s what they hit.”
“Nobody said a thing about exploding trees,” Nelson complained.
“See if the field phone is still working and be sure they relay the word about the trees,” Bellvue ordered.
“I’m on it,” Taro’s shadow Bud Harris said.
More opposing force vehicles drew closer and began firing sporadically into the trees as the shadows grew longer with the approach of sundown. Armored personnel carriers closed soon after and disgorged infantry who immediately went to work digging in.
“Relaying it,” Harris said before Bellvue could utter a word. “Maybe our shell droppers can put fire on them.”
“We’ll be busy tonight,” Bellvue said. “Keen Steel will try to fix the bridge in the dark. They’ll push infantry over the river to keep us off.”
“What if they bring walkers or amphibious tracks over?” Moss asked.
“We’ll be even busier. Cap’n Posey didn’t think they could cross with tracks, but we’ll see. If they try and we have eyes on’em, somebody will have some fun dunking tracks with anti-armor weapons.”
“Hawkwood will have us harassing them at the bridge, right?” Hicks said.
“I hope so. I sure as hell don’t want to be prowling the dark on a combat patrol.”
“Mortar tracks are closing,” Taro said as he looked though his rifle scope. “I’m guessing they wish to target something farther north than they can reach from the southern tree line. Our stores maybe?”
“Calling it in,” Harris said.
Free Company- Red Zone Page 17