“We’re all on,” the squad leader said over the intercom. “Bringing the ramp up. You gotta be part owl or something, Fell.”
As servos hummed and the ramp lifted to close, Briggs said, “What did he mean by that?”
Fell laughed softly. “I have a knack for locating my grunt cargo when they need a ride. I can’t explain it, but it gets me free drinks from grunts.”
A light on Fell’s control panel signaled the ramp was closed and secure.
“We’re rolling,” he said.
. . .
Brennan flinched as a burst of machine gun fire tore through the tree cover well above the position he and Hank Bastrop shared. Trying to locate targets through the scope in the dark was hard enough at a controlled range, but add in the distance Forrester’s platoon was from the bridge and enemy fire coming in at random made it feel like an act of utter futility.
Despite this, the young trooper fired knowing his job was to be part of an effort to allow Knight’s platoon to get clear of the bridge.
Red Light Company mortars pounded the area near the bridge and in the far distance past the crossing, the flash of Keen Steel mortars could be seen as well. Every so often a mortar round would land near Forrester’s troops, random fire meant to harass.
Bastrop dropped the empty drum magazine from his machine gun and inserted another.
“We’ll be pulling out pretty soon,” he said.
As Hank placed his weapon before resuming fire, a brilliant cyan beam cut the air over their heads and burst trees up the ridge.
“Fuck that was close,” a nearby trooper said loudly. “Fuck do I hate those, especially in the dark.”
“It wasn’t aimed at us,” someone answered. “It’s random. They’re doing it to scare us.”
“It’s working,” the first speaker replied.
“Pack it up and be ready to pull out,” came a bellow from the dark.
“You heard the man,” Hooton yelled from nearby.
“Let’s hope our tracks are where they’re supposed to be,” Hank said as he folded the bipod legs on his weapon.
. . .
“I lost three troopers,” Sergeant Knight said to Hawkwood as he dropped his rucksack on the floor of the command post. “Several wounded but none seemed serious. The Doc’s looking them over. We could have recovered the dead, sir, but given our mission of misdirection I ordered they be left where they fell. The bag with the demo charges was placed on one of them. A bit distasteful, but I didn’t hear much troop jabber about it.”
Hawkwood nodded. “We offered. Let’s see if Keen Steel bites.”
. . .
A New Day
. . .
The subtle changes dawn brought to the sky keyed something drilled into every service school graduate—trepidation. From humanity’s earliest conflicts, dawn had been a time of worry. The blackness of night’s last darkness could hide any number of attackers be they fur-clad brutes armed with flint spears or energy cannon equipped tanks weighing hundreds of thousands of kilos. Initiating an attack from the protective stealth of darkness as dawn broke afforded an assaulting force a full day’s worth of light to carry an opponent’s line.
With this in mind, troopers on both sides partook in the age-old posture of stand-to—with nearly every trooper awake, alert, armed, and watchful for attack.
With the added tension, it was inevitable some soldier might see or hear something in the in the dark and with weapon in hand, it was also inevitable some might decide firing first beat dying first, even if the shots hit nothing but ghosts conjured by the imagination.
Gunfire rose and fell only to repeat the process as night gave way to day, finally settling to relative quiet once it became clear no attacks were coming from either side just yet on this second day of battle.
Morning’s full light brought with it little change save for better vision, longer sightlines, and a slight increase in fire.
Daylight also revealed that Keen Steel troopers had emplaced bolter defensive stations on the north side of the bridge. Placed in pits with the excavated soil serving as berms to block direct fire, the stations were of little use fending off the occasional shoulder fired launcher shots Red Light troopers sent their way. It was obvious Keen Steel was more concerned with mortar attack than direct fire hindering their ongoing bridging efforts.
Commander Hawkwood made the rounds, visiting each platoon and taking time to explain the revised strategy in brief. He knew most of the troopers cared little about the big picture but were happy to hear they weren’t going to be attempting an infantry assault on the bridge. While few relished the idea of taking on armored vehicles at some point in the near future, they knew it was necessary if they hoped to win.
The new day brought a new task for Billy Bellvue and his team. Splitting his troopers into sniper-security/spotter teams to prowl the woods north of the bridge and harass their opponents to the south, their primary interest was inflicting casualties without becoming some themselves. For Sam Healey and Vincent Davout, it would be a true test of their abilities and a proving ground to see if they could apply what they were taught in service school and by those in the Red Light that had shared knowledge.
The pair moved east of the main north-south road with Hicks and Moss plus a few field intelligence troopers out to observe their opponents. Splitting off into individual elements as they went along, the pair of greeners eventually found themselves on their own. Southwest of the Savon Light Infantry Company, they knew their allies would have reconnaissance prowling the woods as well and if their opponents managed to cross the river during the night, they must take care to identify those they might encounter before opening fire.
Vincent led his friend over the crest of the ridge and the two could see the results of nearly a full day of random hits by mortars, explosive direct fire projectiles, and energy beams. While there was still heavy forest and undergrowth, the slope was littered with clumps of destruction: downed trees, stubs of severed trunks, heaved soil, plus dropped tree tops and leafy branches adding to the thicket at ground level. Smoke from burnt trunks, branches, needles, and leaves still permeated the woods and the accompanying odor of scorched meat told them that more than just trees had fallen victim to the exchanges.
The smoky haze thickened as they moved down the incline of the ridge. To the east a brief rattle of fire drew their attention, but it was distant and not their concern.
“How far down do you want to go?” Vincent whispered during a pause to survey the terrain ahead.
“We need to see targets, so farther than we are now,” Sam replied. “If we can keep some elevation over those across the river, it’d be an advantage for us. Your pick of position is likely to be better than mine.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m tailing you, right? I wouldn’t be if I didn’t trust you.”
“Fair enough. Just don’t get pissy if I get us killed.”
Sam smiled. “No promises. Lead on.”
The two followed a zigzag course down the slope. Finding several holes in the tree cover that allowed for observation, they passed them by as they were poor selections for their purposes. Needing a spot that allowed for cover and concealment as well as line of sight, they found locating such a position wasn’t a simple task.
Moving farther south and east than they originally intended, they came across not just one, but several they felt would serve them well. Some were well-placed dug in positions from the day before, expertly built by Savon or Red Light troopers though there was nothing to identify the constructors save for some ration bar wrappers, small emptied water bladders, and a pair of dud 7mm rounds left by the previous occupants. Placed on the reverse slope of a small fold in the ground with holes for putting fire on the opposing force to the southwest, the positions provided cover from all but large vehicle mounted weapons and mortars, though the emplacements with overhead cover were likely proof against the latter.
Along the same fold were other place
s that overlooked the eastern end of Keen Steel’s line along the river.
A trench ran its jagged pattern on the southern bank, well placed and providing crossing fires against assaults. Still under construction, numerous points along the line had overhead cover.
From their place on the ridge, Sam and Vincent found the farthest left position provided a view of the southern end of the bridge, but was exposed and lacked in cover compared to most of the others. While attriting infantry was the primary goal, Bellvue made it clear that they should harass those at work repairing the bridge if possible.
Seeing signs of previous Keen Steel attacks on the position, gouged ground from heavy machine guns being the most noticeable, the young troopers were reluctant to use it.
“No blood or bandages in it,” Sam commented as they looked it over.
“And we’re not leaving either one while we’re here,” his friend replied. “We’re not fighting from this one.”
“I’m thinking you’re right,” Sam said with a slight nod. “Maybe it’ll draw fire if they have this point spotted and logged.”
While the sounds of exchanges came from the west and a few mortar rounds peppered the woods, the two observed the trench for quite a while and saw the opposing troopers were still improving their positions. Despite efforts by most to stay out of sight, many were lax as they performed the strenuous task of trench construction.
“Some of those mercs are going to learn a lesson,” Vincent said from his position next to Sam.
“A subject they should have a handle on already. After ‘don’t expose yourself to fire unless necessary’ comes ‘don’t get lazy where lazy can get you dead.’”
“Let’s pick a hole and get to work.”
Crawling up the line of positions, the pair separated to occupy holes adjacent to one another.
Sam’s first shot drove home the lessons he and Vincent had mentioned, by deed rather than by word though not all in the trench took it to heart. A second shot dropped another Keen Steel merc and the bustling activity in the defensive works ceased.
A reply was not long in coming: machine gun fire crossed the ground up and down the slope of the ridge wildly, but this soon turned to bursts chewing at specific points along the line of positions Sam and Vincent had at their disposal.
Having not been on the receiving end of a tripod-mounted machine gun utilizing using a traversing and elevation mechanism before, the two soldiers knew enough to realize that’s what confronted them now.
“They locked this area in yesterday,” Vincent said.
“I’m thinking you’re spot on,” Sam replied. “Let’s see if we can find the machine gun.”
“The gunner seems to be firing two or three bursts before he switches targets. That gives us a little time to locate him.”
“Just don’t be looking for him until you’re sure he’s not firing at you.”
It didn’t take long to spot the location of the machine gun. Placed in a portion of the trench line that squarely faced the positions where Sam and Vincent were, the gunner applied his trade seemingly without care about who might see.
Sharing a position, Vincent aided his friend in monitoring the machine gun fire.
Waiting for the gunner to begin a series of bursts aimed at a point well away from him, Sam ranged his target and after adjusting for his elevation, distance, wind, and other factors, he fired.
“His chopper! You tagged his machine gun,” Vincent said after seeing the shot through his binoculars. “Was that your target?”
“No. The gunner.”
“Well, they don’t know that. They probably think you’re some hotshot showing off.”
The disabled machine gun was pulled from its position and was shortly replaced with two more accompanied by rifle fire. Far less precise than the last threat, it was still dangerous as random rounds landed unpredictably at points far and wide.
Despite the fire, the two Red Light troopers responded with some of their own until Keen Steel turned up the pressure.
The rapid thudding of an auto-cannon sounded the newest hazard and a quick peek down the ridge revealed an armored personnel carrier prowling the southern bank of the river with its turret faced squarely at Sam and Vincent’s place on the ridge.
“What’d I say?” Vincent yelled as the sizable projectiles screamed overhead and slammed into the ground nearby. “They think you were fucking with them… hotshot.”
“I’m thinking you may be right. Stay in the bottom of the hole. I doubt the berms can stop that sort of fire.”
“You don’t see me taking a second look, do you? You know, we must be doing something right to get an armored vehicle sicced on us.”
The two flinched as a substantial tree branch landed near enough that part of its leafy ends suddenly poked their way into their shelter.
With a glare, Vincent said, “I’d say it’s official: we’re crazy. We work in a field where a sign of a job well done is receiving auto-cannon fire.”
“Are you suggesting we call it a day?”
Vincent shook his head. “Negative. That’s how I know we’re bughouse nuts.”
Despite a burst of rounds shrieking past their hole and thudding into trees and soil, Sam laughed. “I’m thinking we give it a little time after the APC gets tired of shooting at us before we start up again. Maybe they’ll believe they killed us or we ran.”
Nodding, Vincent said, “But if they send a tank after us next time, we pack it in. Deal?”
“Deal.”
. . .
“I got movement on the other side of the river,” Bridges whispered as he knelt next to Senior Sergeant Forrester. “A patrol of unknown size headed west. Regular infantry from what little I saw.”
“How fast were they moving?” Forrester asked. With his platoon prowling near the area they had the previous day, they once again sought to whittle down Keen Steel’s infantry numbers.
“They were moving like they had a purpose. The distance and water song from the river makes hearing them from here impossible.”
Nodding, Forrester thought for a moment. “Lead us west. If they lock horns with Carmag, we’ll get in on the play.”
Without a word, the stealthy Bridges rose to a squat and started a stalk to the west.
Signalling by hand, Forrester had the rest of his platoon moving in trail.
Several minutes of slow and quiet movement came to an end when Bridges stopped and knelt on one knee, his left fist raised beside his head as a signal to halt.
Forrester made his way forward and knelt next to his point-man.
Whispering over his shoulder, Bridges said, “A small opfor team is moving closer to the river. I saw at least a dozen farther away. One was a machine gunner so it’s not just scouts. I’m guessing they’re trying to pin down Carmag’s positions or are looking to draw fire.”
Forrester nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s flat here and the trees are mostly too small to provide cover. Take a team and hook right. I’d like to have better ground before the shooting starts.”
“Bastrop’s team showed their stuff yesterday and they were over here with the engineer. That all right?”
“It is.”
“The island isn’t that far away. Seems like a good bet they’re snooping the area because of that.”
“If they want to drive a wedge between the Red Light and Carmag, that’s the obvious place to cross. Even if they only occupy the island, it ties Carmag there too.”
“I’ll get us there, boss.”
Nodding, Forrester gestured over his shoulder and the two rejoined the platoon.
A few minutes later, Bridges led Hank’s team to the north before moving westward. Finding foot trails with evidence of recent traffic, it was clear someone had been patrolling the area. Assuming it was Carmag but taking no chances, Bridges moved cautiously.
Catching movement a short distance up the trail, he stopped. Within seconds a line of Carmag troopers came into sight rounding a bend in the trai
l. Their point man started but settled quickly as both he and Bridges recognized one another from the previous day.
Closing, the Carmag sergeant knelt next to Bridges and jutted his chin at Bastrop’s team in silent greeting.
“Scouting?” the sergeant asked.
“Roger that,” Bridges replied. “Forrester’s platoon is a bit east. There’s a Keen Steel unit headed toward the island.”
“That’s why we’re out here. I have a platoon on my ass. We have opfor infantry coming from the east also so it looks like a fight’s brewing. We have positions placed near the river. That’s where we’re headed.”
“Forrester thought we might add a little firepower if you wanted it.”
The sergeant laughed silently. “You can never have enough firepower. I’ll go tell the platoon leader. I’d all but guarantee he’ll be happy to have you join in.”
. . .
Forrester’s platoon occupied some of the Carmag positions placed near the river. With more troopers than the prepared positions could handle, many from both units started digging with the knowledge the firing might start at any time and with it came profanity-laced complaints uttered as quiet grumbles. Numerous shell craters in the area provided evidence of Keen Steel’s attempts at disrupting Carmag’s preparations, with leaves stained with darkening blood showing the building of the positions was not without cost. They also provided ample motivation to dig-in.
While one of the exoskeleton-equipped members of the heavy machine gun team placed his weapon in a prepared hole featuring stout and camouflaged overhead cover, his partner aided Bastrop’s team in gouging out hasty fighting positions. Lacking time to construct overhead protection on their places in the line, they sought to maximize their position’s resistance to small arms fire and fragments from grenades and mortar shells as best they could.
“If we can get these holes deep enough, one of’em can use the handcart as overhead cover,” the older man said.
“Put it on Perk and Curt’s,” Hank said. “They’re a little more exposed than we are.”
“All right,” the greying trooper replied as he wielded a D-handled shovel. “We’ll go wide with this hole and make the berms thick and high.”
Free Company- Red Zone Page 20