Free Company- Red Zone

by D K Williamson

  Sporadic fire had been coming from the west since dusk, evidence Keen Steel had not forgotten about Carmag Light Infantry and as broad shadows covered the ground, weapons fire bloomed once more.

  Vincent Davout had made the short journey from his position to report Savon Light Infantry’s force from the east was carefully moving in toward the bridge. It was only a matter of time before the night would rage with combat in earnest.

  As the dim moonlight returned, Hicks scanned the area near the bridge and saw opposing force troopers digging in north of the crossing. He knew it was a sentinel line to cover work on the bridge which had taken a pounding by mortars from all three companies in a concentrated effort to hinder Keen Steel’s repairs. Obviously the bridge was passable to foot traffic, but it remained to be seen if it could sustain vehicles.

  Senior Sergeant Mitchell had led his small force south at dusk after coordinating with the sniper team. Hicks had followed their move for a time but lost sight of them not long after they departed. With the lighting conditions fluctuating from dim to nearly pitch black and back to dim again, it was no wonder. A quick run through various sensor modes on the scope showed they were thoroughly jammed and would be of no help locating them. Seeking a signal from Mitchell by a dim and tight beamed light to announce they were ready to attack, Matt had yet to see any sign of such a thing.

  “Mitchell’s really going right into their lines?” Moss asked as he scanned the darkness through binoculars. “That’s insane.”

  “Maybe you’ve not caught on in your time as a merc, but doing what we do for a living is insane by most people’s standards,” Hicks replied.

  “No, Matty, I haven’t missed a thing. Soldiering is one kind of crazy, walking into many times your number with tanks in spitting distance is fucking nuts. Sometimes situations require hanging it all out there, but what he’s doing ain’t it. Doing it armed with blades is… it’s worthy of a mental evaluation.”

  “I’ll give you that. Those with him must suffer the same insanity, they volunteered.”

  “Yeah and I’ll wager most of’em are thinking that wasn’t such a good idea about now.”

  “No bet, pal. Watch for the signal.”

  “That’s what I’m doing.”

  A flash of light followed by more came from the southern side of the river, mortar-fired starlight shells streaking upward. By the time they popped at the apex of their flight and lit the area over the Keen Steel skirmishers north of the river, Hicks worried Mitchell’s group might have been compromised, but no fire came from the opposing force positions.

  Hicks used the light provided by the flares to search through the scope on his rifle, finally spotting two of the Red Light troopers lying flat in a shell hole that marred the grass not far from the bridge.

  “Got’em,” he muttered. “Fifty meters north of the Keen Steel sentinel positions.”

  “Yeah?” Moss said. “I don’t see a thing. That close…they’ll make a go at them during the next dark spell.”

  The starlight shells winked out at the end of their short lives and things settled back to the way they were before, quiet in the east and center with spits of fire to the west that would flare and then peter out.

  Suddenly rifle fire cracked to the south near the river. It soon expanded into a full blown firefight with machine gun and grenade fire joining in. Not long after came the bark of Sam Healey’s sniper rifle.

  “It’s Savon’s troops… gotta be,” Moss said.

  “I think you’re right. Watch for the signal from Mitchell. He’s bound—”

  An uneven roll of explosions came from the area north of the bridge, grenades flashing in the dark. Scanning with the optics, Hicks and Moss sought to confirm it was Mitchell.

  Rifle and machine gun fire soon joined as a hand flare burst to life in the Keen Steel sentinel line. Focusing on this, Hicks could see the dark silhouettes of troopers moving in confusion, a macabre scene of close quarters combat.

  Starlight shells again took flight and burst to cast drifting light over the area north and east of the bridge. Despite the noise of the two nearest fights Hicks could hear the sparring to the west intensifying as well.

  Before Hicks could speak, Moss expressed the same thoughts he held. “The war machine is up and running, Matt.”

  Bringing his focus back to Mitchell’s troops, Hicks winced at the sight of a man stalking amidst Keen Steel positions, killing with a short blade that flung blood with every swing. Those that fought him were cut down as were those that cowered at his approach. Several opfor troopers fired at the man despite the proximity to their comrades before the hand flare guttered out. By the time another took its place just seconds later, the scene had changed to one of utter confusion. Hicks watched the silhouettes of soldiers firing wildly in nearly all directions. He winced again at the scene, unable to tell friend from foe.

  Suddenly, machine gun fire from the Keen Steel side of the river raked the fight along the sentinel line.

  “They’re shooting their own troo—” Hicks shouted before his voice was cut off by the growling rip of a battle tank’s energy cannon.

  The cyan beam ripped the ground and hurled glowing dirt everywhere, turning an already confusing scene into one of chaos. Auto-cannons and explosions added to the storm.

  “What the fuck is going on down there?” Moss exclaimed.

  At first the entire area was a swirling blob of illuminated brown in Matt’s scope that thinned slowly to reveal moving figures. From the dust cloud ran a soldier heading north, then more, one with another draped over a shoulder only to disappear as the starlight shells began to burn out. Spotlights from nearby armored vehicles took their place and cast blinding beams of light across the river as they sought targets.

  Seeing one spotlight cease its movement, Matt suspected the vehicle might have found a target. A well placed shot dimmed the light to black.

  Vincent crawled into the position held by Hicks and Moss. “Keen Steel had an APC on our side of the river,” he said panting from the exertion of running crouched the distance between positions. “Savon took it down with shoulder-fired AT weapons. Sam thought their grunts were heading back to the east.”

  “I can’t say that I blame them. Our opponents either have another crossing or they came across the bridge in the black. We best watch for more vehicles. If Keen Steel decides to cross in force, this could be one confusing night,” Hicks said.

  “Was that an energy cannon we heard?” Vincent asked.

  “It was. It wasn’t shooting at us.”

  “I’ll head back,” Vincent said with a worried shake of his head.

  “Damned opfor armor in the damned dark,” Moss groused. “I hope the CO knows what he’s doing. Tanks… dammit!”

  Silently agreeing with his shadow, Hicks gritted his teeth as he flipped the selector lever from SAFE to FIRE and placed his crosshairs on one of the spotlights. Taking down one and another soon after, he saw the energy cannon fire shift farther north. Lifting his head to see what they sought, Moss had already found the answer.

  “One of our walkers, that’s what they’re after,” he said. “Saw a glimpse of it through the trees. It looked like Jacks or the new walker jockey tagged an opfor vehicle of some kind. Saw the power gen puke its containment. There, southwest. Saw some fire but it’s gone. That means multiple armored vehicles are over here.”

  Hicks grunted a worried acknowledgement. To the south the glow of fire grew and he guessed it was the armored vehicle Savon’s troopers had killed. He returned to spotlight hunting. Energy beams continued to flash across the river at an unknown target and he grimaced at the idea of being exposed and alone in the dark with such armaments blazing away. We have troopers trying to get out of that hell, he thought as he sought targets but found only two before things went dark and comparatively quiet.

  The lull didn’t last long. Upriver to the west where Sergeant Knight’s platoon was operating, more fire cut loose, but distance and tree cover made it
impossible for Hicks and his team to see what transpired.

  . . .

  The 30mm auto-cannon on Lunatic Red barked once, triggered by a quick tap on the fire control by Sergeant Jackson. Firing from long range and then moving away quickly had kept the walker and her crew free of damage despite a few hits coming from the Keen Steel side of the river.

  For Myles, the first few ringing strikes on the outside of the hull were disturbing, but he soon adjusted realizing it would take more than heavy machine guns or light auto-cannons to bring his vehicle down.

  Noticing Jackson glancing over his left shoulder after the first few hits, Myles eventually said, “I’m fine, Jacks. No pants-wetting just yet.”

  Jackson laughed. “Never had a doubt. No shame if you do. I only say that because back in the day, I soiled my skivvies first time out.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.”

  Jacks laughed. “I didn’t have the moustache then.”

  Lurking in the dark and utilizing the vehicle’s mobility was a tried and true tactic walker crews had long used and as tracer fire scorched the air where Lunatic Red had been, it proved the validity of stick-and-move tactics. The field was fraught with hazards though: shell holes and downed trees hidden by tall grass presented a multitude of obstacles that might trip Lunatic Red, and enough random shots from potent weapons able to pierce the walker’s armor made wrong place, wrong time hits more likely than Jacks and Myles cared for.

  “I’m going to find us a low spot near Knight’s platoon and we’ll stay quiet for a bit. All we need is a mortar barrage coming down on us.”

  “Are mortars a danger?”

  “The type each side is limited to here can’t kill us, but they can sure as hell hurt us. If one lands on the roof we lose a lot: coms, a lot of sensors, your bolter. Near misses can damage the legs or jam moving parts with shell fragments not to mention what they can do to the paint job.”

  Seeing a grassy hump in the distance during a period of flare light, Jacks made for the spot as soon as darkness returned. Crouching behind the small land feature, the two inside the vehicle took a moment to breathe. Their respite didn’t last long, interrupted by the field phone’s buzz.

  Grabbing the handset from its cradle, Jacks depressed the talk button and said, “I’m guessing this isn’t a social call?”

  “It just might be, Jacks,” a voice replied. “Corporal Tyson here. In case you didn’t know, Keen Steel has armor on our side of the bridge. An APC is rolling this way unless it changed course. We haven’t seen it for a couple of minutes, but can sure as hell hear it. We saw a tank headed north too, but lost sight of it.”

  “Shit,” Jackson replied. “Any way to tell what type of tank?”

  “Not more than it was larger than a scout version, sorry.”

  “Not on you, Tyson. Night fights are a beast. Tell Knight we’ll go after the APC and then worry about the tank.”

  “Roger that, Jacks. We have a few AT warheads, but if you want to take down the armor without our help, it’s fine by us.”

  “Yeah? Get off my field phone so we can get to work then.”

  Tyson laughed. “Can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that. Thanks, out.”

  “Myles, watch our ass. I don’t want a tank sneaking up behind us. I’m guessing the APC will stay close to the river so their guys can keep eyes on as best they can. We’ll be awful damned close to the river as well if we’re going to take it down. We’ll go with high explosive, plastic. Let’s kill the APC and get the hell outta town.”

  “Squash, up,” Myles replied seconds later. “On ass watching duty, on the bolter, and ready to reload if needed.”

  . . .

  The HEP round struck the Keen Steel armored personnel carrier square on the side. Commonly called a ‘squash’ round to avoid confusion with the similarly named HE load, the warhead was highly effective against structures and lighter armored vehicles such as Lunatic Red’s target. Filled with malleable high explosives, the material flattened itself on the surface of the APC an instant before detonating and sending a compression shock wave through the armor. This shock wave displaced considerable materiel from the interior surface within the vehicle at high velocity which created a hellish storm of destruction in the enclosed space. Even though most vehicles were fitted with inner liners as a defense against spall—the term used for the displaced fragments—they were often not enough to save those in lightly armored vehicles when struck by powerful rounds fired from weapons like Lunatic’s 90mm.

  The Keen Steel APC ground to a halt as a flash of light burst from the top of the hull—the release of containment from the vehicle’s power generator.

  Jackson fired a traversing burst of 30mm rounds across the river while turning before running a zigzag course north and west.

  Watching the vid screens, Myles was busy trying to take in several views at once. To the south, the rear hatch of the doomed opposing force APC dropped open with a gout of flame, smoke, and staggering troopers bursting forth while tracers and spotlights from across the river crisscrossed seeking Lunatic Red. Mortar rounds flashed as they detonated, also seeking the walker.

  To the east he saw flashes of light, spotlights, weapons discharging, and indistinct shapes and movement. Looking at several different views, he finally saw something identifiable and disturbing.

  “Bedlam’s down,” he said over the intercom. “Looked like not too far from the road near the tree line.”

  Jacks spared a quick glance at the vid feeds and saw nothing but darkness to the east.

  “Saw it in the flare lights,” Myles added when he saw Jacks looking.

  “Did it blow or fall?” Jackson asked as he slowed Lunatic Red to a walk.

  “I’d say it staggered for a few steps and collapsed like someone whose legs gave out. No fire, no flash. We’d see it in the dark.”

  Jacks grumbled. “They might be okay. Nothing we can do for them right now. Looks like the fight over here is dying down or moving farther into the trees west. Can’t tell if Knight’s troopers were pulling out or not. I’m backing us north. We’ll hide in the dark and see if we can figure out what’s going on. There may still be a tank on the prowl so stay on watch.”

  “Want me to pop the upper hatch and take a listen?”

  “Lunatic Red‘s acoustic sensors can likely pick up sounds farther than human ears, but that’s not a bad idea. Maybe you catch something the machine misses and bare eyes might see something cams and periscopes cannot. How long will it take you to get back in place if things go to crap?”

  “Fifteen seconds. Less if I do it right the first try. I mentioned it before, I’ve been drilling on it. You know, a backrest with head support might work better than the strap system. Be faster too.”

  “Talk to Brownie about it if we live. Let’s move north before you go sightseeing.”

  . . .

  Myles released the latches and pushed the upper hatch open. He welcomed the air despite the strong smell of smoke from smoldering trees and scorched grass hit by explosives and energy weapons. Somehow it seemed fresher than the stuffy interior of the walker.

  Stepping up the narrow ladder, he stopped once his upper body was clear. Loosening the straps on his headset and removing it, he let it hang from his neck so the mic was near enough to his mouth that it could pick up his voice.

  Cupping his hands behind his ears, he began turning his head back and forth. Seeing this on the vid feeds, Jacks smiled but said nothing. After a few minutes, Myles whispered, “I don’t hear any vehicles on this side of the river. A lot south, but nothing elsewhere. Either the tank is dead, sitting still, or it never was. Coming down.”

  Securing the hatch and stowing the ladder took little time and Myles was soon straddling his loader’s saddle.

  “What were you doing up there? You looked like you were doing an impersonation of a sensor station.”

  Myles laughed as he began attaching the retention straps to his vest. “I was a sensor station, Jac
ks. Directing the sound like I did near doubles what you can hear and removes distracting sounds from the sides and back too. Humans are generalists, all-arounders. Good at a lot of things but great at none compared to specialists. We can’t orientate our ears like a cat, but we have big brains and hands that help us make-do. Cupping your hands works even better with the gain turned up on the infantry helmet earpieces.”

  “Yeah? They teach you that in grunt school or did you learn it after mastering Morse code?”

  “Neither. Hunting with my dad as a child.”

  “Your dad took you tank hunting when you were a kid? That must’ve been quite the childhood, Myles with a Y.”

  Myles laughed again. “I’m set, Sarge. Where do we go from here?”

  “Let’s move east. Maybe we can make contact with somebody that knows what’s going on. I’ll take it slow just in case there’s a Keen Steel tank sitting out there in the dark. Keep your eyes peeled.”

  Jackson kept the walker near the tree line. Stopping frequently when mortar-fired flares or moonlight brightened the area to look for any sign of opposing force vehicles, they’d seen little to indicate there were until Myles saw an odd shape behind high grass atop a roll in the land. A distant flare over the bridge backlit the object and made it hard to identify.

  “I think it’s a track,” Rivers said.

  Looking at the image for a few seconds until the parachute flare went black, Jacks nodded. “Pretty sure it’s one of ours. I’m heading that way.”

  Jackson had to stop as moonlight emerged from the cloud cover. As darkness took hold again he was forced to stop after only a single step when a powerful spotlight cast its beam across the open ground. Confident Keen Steel had not seen them when the light continued its arc, they moved on.

  Cresting the hump in the ground, they found two tracks resting near one another, each showing damage. One sat intact with both hatches and rear ramp open, its right side track stripped off and trailing across the ground behind it. The other showed far more ominous damage. Shot through from the right side and exiting the left just behind the crew compartment, it was obvious something fired from a potent weapon was responsible. The crew hatches were closed, but the rear ramp was down and covered in strange blobs.