“We’ll have to go looking,” Fell said sourly. “Tracks hunting a battle tank. That’s pulling the dragon’s tail.”
“Maybe not,” Muldoon said with a point. “Dust. They’re still rolling north.”
“They’re smart. They want to get well clear of the damned woods. The woods have eyes, eyes that look through sights on anti-tank weapons. We’ll get behind them.”
“We either hit the tank first or take down the APCs,” Muldoon said. “My hunter-killers can’t deal with all of them at once.”
Fell nodded in agreement. “Let’s roll and see what we find.”
. . .
Watching the last trooper exit down the ramp on vid feeds, Fell punched the control to close it as he put Nasty-96 in motion.
“Watch for ground-pounders,” he said over the intercom. “If Keen Steel drops their grunts, they’ll probably have anti-tank weapons as part of their gear.”
“Got it, Sarge. How do we—dust ahead and left,” Briggs called as he rotated the turret. “Behind the rise… less than a hundred meters I’d say, headed north.”
“Nice spot, kiddo. Looks like Seven-Two and Eight-One are heading to cut them off. I’m going to swing in behind the Keen Steel tracks.”
Seeing Muldoon directing his troopers toward the dust, Fell kept his track on the low ground and circled around the hillock while Briggs watched for their opponents.
The sight and muffled sound of Muldoon’s recoilless launchers sending rounds to the northeast drew Briggs’ attention. The reply of automatic weapons fire followed by the ripping sound of an anti-tank missile launch prompted him to glare through the sight.
A tight series of explosions rippled the air as the track’s movement took them out of view of the hunter-killers atop the hillock. Keeping his sights on the edge of the grass-covered slope, Briggs intended to fire at the first sign of the enemy, but seeing troopers running up the shallow slope of a neighboring mound prompted him to lift his thumbs from the trigger while he tried to determine if they were friend or foe.
Swinging north, Fell saw the depressed grass that marked the path the Keen Steel vehicles had taken. Rolling to follow them, he suddenly locked the tracks to stop Nasty-96 as an opposing force armored personnel carrier came into view just fifty meters ahead. Drawing breath to shout a warning, the rattle of the heavy machine gun above him kept him silent.
Seeing the enemy track at the same time as Sergeant Fell, Briggs rotated his turret as Nasty slid to a stop. The ramp dropped as his sights settled and without conscious thought, Briggs fired a long burst into the exposed troop bay. Catching a glimpse of the first trooper exiting the track, he saw a look of surprise and fear before the man dropped as heavy machine gun rounds wreaked hell inside the track.
Briggs released the trigger as dirty blasts of recoilless rounds tore into the side of the Keen Steel track. Within seconds licks of fire danced inside before smoke obscured the view.
Troopers staggered from the open hatch, a pair of them dragging another clear. Though the smoke, Briggs could see a figure scrambling clear from the front of the track.
“Hold your fire, Briggsy,” Fell said over the intercom. “Those guys are hurting.”
“Roger that, Sarge. I saw troopers on the slope to the north. I’m not positive, but I think they were Keen Steel.”
“They’d have to be. I’m pulling over the high ground to our west. Cover the east.”
“Got it.”
. . .
From his position in 96’s turret, Briggs had a clear view of the small battleground and its aftermath.
The lead Keen Steel APC was equipped with an anti-tank guided missile launcher, a weapon it used to decent effect against Track-71. Landing a disabling hit on 71, the opposing force track was in turn disabled by several hits from Red Light hunter-killers aided by dust kicked up by the missile launch and treads which hindered the defensive systems.
From the east, a Keen Steel sergeant led a line of troopers toward the three immobile tracks and those gathered near them, the same troopers Briggs had seen earlier. Knowing they had many wounded and without motorized transport, the troopers quickly surrendered given the situation.
Facing the fact they still needed to locate and stop the Keen Steel tank, Sergeants Fell and Muldoon knew they needed to act quickly.
Briggs saw the pair speaking to what he assumed was the senior member of the Keen Steel contingent, a merc bearing the rank of ensign. Nearby, troopers from both units were seeing to the injured. Nasty’s gunner was surprised to see that many of those within the track he had engaged managed to survive though most were wounded. Looking at the still smoking track took his thoughts to his similar experience just days before.
The sound of the vertibird’s missile strike was muffled by the helmet’s built-in hearing protection, but combined with the shockwave that jolted the track, it seemed deafening. Stunned by the swiftness of it all, Sergeant Hooton’s voice cut through the sound of alarms, angry yells, cries of pain, smoke, and panic that filled the back of Track-82.
“Ratchet it down, troopers,” Hooton called in a loud but calm tone as those nearest the rear hatch scrambled to exit. “Masks on and grab your gear. Last on, first off.”
As the smoke thickened, those leaving the vehicle provided more space within. Briggs saw the intel specialist that shared their transport trying to stand, her painful cries now grunts.
Next to her was the inert form of Carl Paulino.
“I’ll get ‘Lino,” Briggs yelled.
“Lee, help the intel trooper,” Fran said through her mask. “I’ll help Briggsy.”
Waving a hand, Brennan answered, “Got it.”
As Briggs and Fran reached the hatch, they found Sergeant Hooton gesturing to their left.
“Medics, that way,” he said.
Briggs’ mind snapped back to the present and he grimaced once again at the havoc his attack must have wreaked inside the Keen Steel vehicle and was relieved he couldn’t see the results. Despite the empathy he felt for those in the troop bay, he thought, Better them than some of us.
Sergeant Fell trotted toward Nasty-96 and behind the track chief, Briggs could see Muldoon rushing to gather troopers.
Fell nimbly scaled the side of his track and took his seat. “We’re rolling a soon as we’re loaded,” he said over the intercom.
Seeing the numbers headed toward them, Briggs said, “Can we carry that many?”
“Not inside. We pack as many as the troop bay can hold and the rest ride on top.”
“Is Track-81 down?”
“Negative. They’re taking the wounded and prisoners north.”
“Some are hurt bad enough that we lose a track?”
“Yes, That’s not the only reason though.”
The sound of boots on top of the track caught Briggs’ attention followed soon after by the louder noise of troopers moving into the troop bay.
“The commander of the missile track surrendered her force as you probably figured out,” Fell said. “We had a quick negotiation and getting the wounded moved promptly was part of it. That Ensign Hart knows the game as well as we do.”
“Uh, Sarge?” Briggs said. “I didn’t even know there was a game being played.”
“Briggsy, our job is a game. It just has very, very high stakes. See, she was seeking parole initially. You get what that means?”
“That following surrender her troops would lay down their arms and leave the field on their own.”
“Right, but she was vying for something else.”
“What was it?”
“She was angling for a way to tell Keen Steel’s commander that there was trouble up here.”
“I don’t get it, Sarge.”
“The wounded will show up on the medical evac system, but Ensign Hart knows the system will only show that some of her troopers are casualties which would mean they were in a fight. Keen Steel’s commander would only be able to guess about what happened. Hart proposed parole in hope we’d
bite. Parole would mean posting them to the system immediately so Gifford would know the effort up here is in peril.”
“Because it would show on the arbiter’s channels,” Briggs said as he realized what happened. “But you have to report their capture sometime.”
“Sure. ‘In a timely manner,’ or so reads the regulations. We will too… just as soon as Track-81 gets the wounded to care. That’s where the dealing came in. In addition to letting Gifford know there’s trouble up north, she also wants her troopers to get medical care soonest, but being in the red zone means the local medicos aren’t coming. It’s a balancing act. We offered her a choice and she chose to see her troops are taken care of. Our side of the bargain requires us to move them. That costs us a track. Seeing her tabbed-out troopers to care in exchange for keeping her boss out of the loop, that’s the unspoken bargain. It may be that if Gifford thinks she has armor in the Red Light’s rear when she doesn’t, it happens to help us. Maybe the truth takes longer to become known because our humanitarian acts take precedent over mere rules. Hell, that might even be true. Maybe we are dancing at the edge of the rules a bit, but we’re saving lives here.”
Briggs could almost hear the smile on Sergeant Fell’s face and nodded with a smile of his own. “That’s not something they cover in service school Accords training.”
“Welcome to the human race, kiddo. It’s a mess, but it’s all we got. You’ll get the hang of it… if we survive this little monster hunt.”
Muldoon’s voice came over the intercom. “We’re ready to roll, Ron. Remember there’s troopers up top.”
“I know,” the track chief replied as he punched the control to raise the ramp. “Ramp’s coming up. We’re rolling.”
Fell put Nasty-96 in motion and headed west.
“Briggs, watch for signs of the tank and listen for those troopers outside in case they spot it and start banging on the hull.”
After several minutes of silence and no evidence of a tank, Briggs said, “I’m a little late in asking, but how do we do this?”
“The tank? It’s simple. All we have to do is find it and stop it.”
“Simple?” Muldoon said over the intercom. “There’s a lot of ground up here, Ron.”
“Sure is. It’s track country. Plenty of room to roll, enough elevation change to hide and use for cover… like I said, we’re in track country.”
“Not if the crew in the battle tank decides it’s theirs.”
“You’re going to see to it that doesn’t happen.”
Muldoon laughed. “Yeah. All we have to do is find it. And stop it. A hell of a plan.”
“It’s a big damned tank. Trust me, we’ll find signs of it. The only question is when and—”
“Sarge, rocket!” Briggs called as one of the troops atop the track banged on the hull with a hard object. “A little east of due north.”
Fell looked at the right side video feeds and smiled at seeing the rocket heading for the sky, its dark exhaust contrasted against the bright sky. “Signal rocket. What’d I say? When is now. We’ve got it.”
“What’s it signaling?” Briggs wondered aloud.
“A guess?” Fell replied. “It’s telling Gifford the armored force is in the Red Light’s rear.”
“How do we play it, Sarge?” Muldoon asked.
“I’m rolling west as fast as Nasty Niner-Six will go without shedding the troopers riding up top. That’s a helluva lot faster than that tank will be moving. We get in front of that beast, find favorable ground, and you and your troopers go to work.”
“Find us some concealment and cover and we’ll see what we can do. How do we handle it if the tank slips us?”
“You get back on board and we try it again.”
“Only without the element of surprise.”
“That’s why you best get it done the first time ‘round. If we do have to make a second try, I’m rolling north until we’re clear of jamming and notifying Hawkwood.”
“Hopefully the CO saw the rocket and knows what it means. Maybe he’ll send help.”
“We can hope, but don’t count on either of those things.”
. . .
Jack Hawkwood crouched behind the barricade and glared at the climbing rocket and the column of grey smoke in its trail. Knowing it could only be Keen Steel’s doing, he realized there could be a threat approaching.
The Red Light commander had a decision to make. Considering his limited options, it didn’t take him long.
“I’ve got a strac crew, sir,” Warrant Officer Lodge had said when he elected to keep his crew and vehicle in the battle. “We came here to win, not die heroically. We know how much heat we can handle.” Despite Lodge’s best intentions, he had been only partly correct. A hit from the immobilized Keen Steel heavy holed the turret and left Lodge gravely injured, his gunner dead, and his driver and loader shaken badly. The now unmanned Rat-2 still drew fire, a testament to its effectiveness while it was operational, but it was no longer a weapon.
Rat-1was now the only Red Light vehicle with anti-tank capability left at the roadblock and Hawkwood decided to keep it where it was until he had more information about the actions Fell and Muldoon oversaw. He had little choice.
Within seconds of the rocket’s ascent, Keen Steel infantry and armored vehicles pushed northward using the clutter of dead and disabled vehicles south of the roadblock as cover. Clearly a coordinated move and with Lunatic Red out of communication range, Hawkwood had just local options with which to respond.
We fight here and if Keen Steel comes knocking on the back door, we deal with it then, Hawkwood thought before he returned his attention to the forces south.
. . .
Top Sergeant Terry Holden led his ad hoc force into Mitchell’s small collection of improved positions during a lull. Dug in a hundred meters from the paved road astride the dirt course that ran to the east, it was obvious Mitchell’s aggressive nature had netted results—both good and bad.
Several destroyed or disabled armored personnel carriers and a light tank clogged the intersection of the two roads. No longer valuable as fighting vehicles, they still had use as cover for Keen Steel troopers who exchanged fire with Mitchell’s force.
The lull in small arms fire provided opportunity for Mitchell’s troops to improve their fighting positions, a necessity not only against rifle and machine gun fire but as protection against steady mortar fire pounding the area.
While Holden’s reinforcements quickly assumed positions and joined in, Senior Sergeant Mitchell brought Holden up to speed.
“We got here just in time,” he said. “While there was a push at the roadblock, a column of opfor vehicles tried to use the dirt road. We killed the lead vehicle and they tried to bull their way around. You can see what happened. We fell back to this position and dug in. We could’ve moved back to the roadblock, but every opfor grunt we drop here is one less tangling with Jack’s troopers.”
Holden nodded as his eyes quickly scanned the ground to the west. In addition to the glut of vehicles blocking the road, bodies—both Keen Steel and Red Light—littered the ground between the two forces.
Mitchell laughed and pointed at two clumps of downed soldiers. “They ran a couple of platoons at us while we were digging in. I threw a couple of teams at them with supporting fire and it did the trick. Stopped’em cold as you can see.”
Holden could see the results. Red Light troopers lie among Keen Steel soldiers, evidence of a bitter and close-in fight. While he could not argue the effectiveness of the tactic, the top sergeant could not help but wonder if the same results might have been achieved by fighting from the cover of prepared positions without the counter assault. Knowing compassion needed to be pushed to the back of the mind in the midst of battle, Holden was still concerned about Mitchell’s callousness to his own losses.
“They haven’t tried again,” Mitchell continued. “It’s settled into what we have now.”
“Were the mortars already dropping over here?”
/>
“Negative. Somebody called it in, but since they’re not pounding our holes, I assume the shot-caller doesn’t have eyes-on.”
“Sarge, movement east,” a soldier called from a nearby position.
The two veteran NCOs shifted to look and could see several troopers through the trees. Widely spaced, it appeared they were advancing in a skirmish formation.
“Savon,” Mitchell said as he moved to the narrow opening at the rear of the fighting position. Waving an arm, he called, “Red Light here, watch your—”
One of the advancing troopers knelt and fired a burst from a submachine gun drawing a growl from Mitchell.
Snarling, the veteran soldier squirmed from the hole and stood despite the bullets. “Red Light, assholes,” he bellowed. “Pay attention.”
“Cease fire,” a voice yelled from the advancing force.
Holden could see other Savon troopers moving in to the north and south of those that just arrived. As they closed, enemy mortar fire shifted east to harass them, another sign someone was adjusting fire for the mortars.
Knowing Savon’s arrival swung the battle against Keen Steel, Red Light’s top sergeant sought to keep the pressure on.
“Rod, I’m taking some of those I brought with me to see if we can do something about the mortars. You take charge of the rest and coordinate with Savon’s troopers.”
“You got it,” came Mitchell’s simple reply.
While Holden gathered those he needed before heading south in search of Commander Newcomen, the sound of intense fire came from the south, a sign Savon troopers were pressing their opponents. The crump of mortar shells soon slackened the fire confirming Holden’s intent to send troopers to silence the mortars.
Holden found Newcomen near the southern end of his company.
“Are you aware of the armor Keen Steel sent north?” Newcomen asked when Holden joined.
“We are.”
“On our way here we saw a tank bashing its way through the trees leading two armored personnel carriers.”
“We have hunter-killers after them.”
Free Company- Red Zone Page 32