Armored Warrior Panzerter: Eve of Battle

by T. E. Butcher

  The Pegasai rushed by overhead. Seated firmly inside the Lowe, Reiter smiled as they raced off to Ironton.

  “What’s the rush?” Magyar asked.

  “They’re setting the perimeter,” Steele replied. The Scouts rode out the previous day, leaving Black Team to take the lead out of Grunbeck with Gold platoon shortly behind them. Reiter and Klammer followed with Comidus in his command track. The Mortars and White Team brought up the rear.

  “Alright, Fox, everyone switch to platoon and team networks, Leaders leave a channel open on Company and give me an up when all units are checked in,” Reiter said. Alright, then keep the team chatter off my radio. As much as he liked the Merlin brothers, Smith and the rest, he needed the company net for leaders only during combat, if anything else so information flowed better.

  After a few moments, all teams came back clearly on the radio and reported no issues. Even the dropships. With their communications clear, he focused on the route. Once they hit Autobahn 12, they turned north until they arrived at Ironton.

  Beginning it’s life as a mining town, Ironton turned to metalworking when it’s mine ran dry. The massive foundry, built over the old mine and extending deep underground, created a very asymmetrical landscape relative to the highway. Between the highway and the foundry on the eastmost part of town, most of the towns’ shops, offices, and service centers found their homes.

  Just south of the area Reiter called the “market” district, townhomes and apartments extended south while north of the district found itself dotted with more expensive manor style homes. West of the highway, a big box store took most of the space on the north side while more traditional single-family homes extended south before curving west away from the autobahn. Pine trees intermingled with more barren ones in yards and the spaces between buildings.

  He turned off the highway, and brought his Lowe into a kneeling position just behind a large church, easily the biggest of Ironton’s three. About a mile ahead of him, the scouts maintained their screen line north of the town.

  “Fox 6, Mortars are set,” Brunnen said. As the man spoke, the Pegasi touched down in a parking lot south of Reiter’s position. Looks like everything is coming together.

  “Fox 6, Fox 7, I’m set,” Klammer said. Reiter nodded and glanced to his four ‘o’clock. Klammer’s machine rested a sniper rifle on the roof of a mechanic’s workshop. In the distance to his nine, Gold Platoon’s IFVs set a defensive line in the parking lot of the Big and Lo’s with their dismounts setting a screen to the southwest.

  “Black Team set,” Wesser said somewhere north of him.

  “Gold’s up.”

  “White’s set,” Kozma said near the refinery.

  “Red Platoon, all squads set,” Webber added, his own forces setting charges and dispersed throughout Ironton. “Take care of our ride home alright? We’d rather not walk back.”

  Despite the tension in his head, Reiter chuckled.

  “Roger Red 1, will do,” he replied. “Wolfhound, are you set?”

  “Roger Fox 6,” The gunship leader replied. “We’re idle and up for a bit of trickery.” Reiter acknowledged and let out a deep breath.

  “Leaders, make sure your people eat,” he said. “The 4-14 is going to let us know the Unis are coming long before we see them.” Taking his own advice, he heated up some ration lasagna and mixed an electrolyte drink.

  “Fox 6, White 1,” Kozma called.

  “Go ahead for 6,” Reiter replied as he opened a pack of reese’s pieces.

  “I think 2 has a case of the nerves,” Kozma said. “What should I say?” Seriously, Magyar? For all her bluster, she gets nerves. He shook his head. I didn’t really have a chance for nerves, none of us old hats did. With a glance to his memorial wall, Reiter mulled over his options.

  If we were still in Grunbeck, I might’ve said something more gentle. He sighed as he keyed up his radio. Too late for gentleness now.

  “Be understanding, but make it clear she needs to step up,” Reiter replied. He glanced back at his map. Our last intel has them attacking in less than twelve hours, I wonder how long we’ll be sitting here. As he unbuckled his restraints, he opened the lasagna. Hot steam hissed out of the pouch and warmed his face.

  “All posts, begin rest plan for the next six hours,” he said. “Be ready to stand to at 1800 hours.” With that, he took a few bites of lasagna and relaxed.

  “Am I imagining things, or is 4th Army about to launch a counteroffensive?” the Operations Chief said. Field Marshal Adam Hausnerr cradled his forehead in his hand. After the shock of the attack on Deimos, an emergency meeting had been called to reevaluate the war effort. Much to Hausnerr’s chagrin, there seemed be no effort to seize the initiative from the enemy. Because they want to play it safe, it’s easier to keep your cushy job when you don’t take risks.

  “So what if they are?” Hausnerr replied. “Good on them, its about time somebody did something about the enemy at our door.”

  “But such an operation would be reckless and wasteful,” The Chief of personnel replied. “The losses on our side will shock the people into surrender!” Hausnerr hammered his fist onto the table.

  “Then damn it we deserve to fall!” He snapped. “And don’t you pretentious fools pretend you’re concerned with our soldiers lives, I can see you’re all out for your own hides, and frankly it disgusts me.” He jabbed an accusing finger at the General staff.

  The Chief of Logistics rose from her chair. “This is outrageous! How dare you accuse us of-”

  “Of serving your own twisted self interests?” Hausnerr hissed. “Yes, I’m disgusted that I’ve been shackled with such a spineless staff who would rather see their homeland dismantled brick by brick than put their comfort on the line to see her saved.”

  “You’re replaceable,” the Personnel Chief said. “We can find another former warfighter-”

  “I. Am. A Warfighter, all of us should be!” Hausnerr said. “But instead you disgusting creations are only interested in furthering your careers while sacrificing the very force that gave you those careers.”

  “We’ve already lost a Marshal to enemy action,” The Operations Chief said. “We have the ear of the president, she can have you and the entire head of 4th Army relieved.”

  Hausnerr took a deep breath as the chefs muttered among themselves. “I was in the trenches in the last war, I still remember the name of every man and woman in my platoon we lost, where the hell were the lot of you then?”

  “That’s a ridiculous question,” The Chief of contracting said. “Most of us weren’t even old enough to commission yet.”

  The Field Marshall shook his head and turned away. “All of you allowed this magnificent fighting force to grow complacent,” he said. “You thought the Union was beat, that they would never again threaten our people.” He turned back to face the General Staff. “We failed this country, we neglected the army, and by extension our national security.”

  “Whether it was failing to update our doctrine and strategy for the future, pursuing better and better equipment for our soldiers, or even bothering to allocate adequate funding to maintenance, or bothering to fully evaluate the MAG as a threat, the bottom line is every General officer for the past ten years has failed this country.” Hausnerr leaned over the table. “I’m not saying this as the Field Marshall, a veteran, or even just a soldier, I’m saying this as Adam the Tharcian man.”

  He pointed to the door. “You either help me turn this around, or get out, there’s the door, if you’re not with me, you’re fired.” Before anyone could react, General Markos, the head of Cyberwarfare, burst through the doors to the staff conference room.

  “I apologize for interrupting, but you need to turn on your main monitor,” he stammered. When nobody moved, he went to the control panel for the monitor himself.

  “Markos, what’s the meaning of this?” the Chief of Operations snapped. “You’ll be reprimanded for interrupting a high level meeting-”

  “Enough,” H
ausnerr said. “Markos, I’m sure you have a good reason, but do you mind explaining yourself before barging into a general staff meeting?”

  “Again, I apologize,” he said. “But you’ll see in just a few moments, well ok it’s Admiral Von Braun, he’s alive on Deimos, and he’s putting out a broadcast any minute now.” Before long, the Cyber Chief had the secure line to Deimos open.

  The Admiral’s bald head shone under the light of what looked to be a control room. He stood by himself in a work uniform, a black jumpsuit and jacket along with his ship’s cap, a baseball style hat with a silhouette of a battleship with the words TNV-Franz Ferdinand embroidered on the top.

  So he is alive. Somehow, I was certain a gas attack of that nature would spell doom for all on the moon. The old man cleared his throat and began to speak.

  13

  Reiter couldn’t believe his ears. How did the Fleet Admiral live? More importantly, how is he getting this broadcast across the Mars Sphere? As soon as Comidus picked up the broadcast, he patched the rest of the company through so they could all hear as well.

  “Friends, Allies, Countryman and women, first let me begin by informing the Mars Sphere that Deimos’s civilian and military population narrowly avoided disaster. Over four hundred thousand souls have gone before our creator today, and I will soon join them.”

  “Here, at my life’s end, I am not afraid for my own sake, but for the fate of my homeland. It has been over a century since our people fled their homes and eventually fled across the ocean of space to find a new home, free from tyranny, whether that tyranny came from a swastika, or from a sickle and hammer. But, tyranny lives in the hearts of men, and thus we shouldn’t have been surprised when tyranny reared it’s ugly head, bearing the banner of a gear and atom.” The old man sighed, and across the vast distance, Reiter could feel the weight on him.

  “Even as I speak, we face an adversary that grinds its own people into the dirt, they disregard their lives to the extent that they manufacture them, stripe away their humanity as best they can, only in naming these poor souls does the Union give them any dignity. Even as their hordes sweep over Roosevelt, Swallow Olympia, and sink their vile claws into my homeland, even as I stand here, moments from meeting the great architect of creation, I urge not just the Tharcian, not just the Olympian, the Rooseveltier, or even the Vinnish, who find themselves attacked, do not let all of our lives go in vain.”

  Von Braun’s voice rose on the last word and began building to a crescendo. “I urge the lot of you, to fight in Tharsis, to bring them to battle in the belt, in every sphere of mankind, and if, and I do not believe it, even if, Tharsis herself fell, every colony and even this moon itself, would not bend until the Union has been broken. Godspeed Tharsis! Godspeed Vinland! Godspeed to every man, woman, and child that cries out for a freer world!” The broadcast suddenly cut off.

  “He looked rough at the end there,” Comidus said. “And I thought I saw gas leaking into the room.” Reiter shook his head.

  “Well damn, I want to go after the Unis right now,” Webb said. “Can they hurry up and come to us?”

  “Ride that high, everyone,” Reiter said. “The unis will be here before we know it.” The casualties were supposed to be way higher up on Deimos. Maybe he had something to do with the lower numbers? The Regimental network chimed.

  “Heads up, people,” Hawke said. “Intelligence has multiple offensives along the front, they’re taking the bait.” Which means we’ll be under fire soon.

  “Alright everyone, I hope you made your peace with the Lord,” Reiter said. “Because here they come.” Are we really prepared for this? What if those ‘Red Guards’ show up? He took a few steadying breaths. If they do show up, they’ll learn a thing or two about gunships and mortars.

  “Forward elements of 4-14 got activity near the bridges,” Hawke said. “Operation Coal Stock has begun.” Reiter’s grip on his sticks tightened.

  “Did you take care of those nerves white 1?” he asked.

  “Roger Fox 6,” Kozma replied. “I feel like these boys and girls wanna take on the whole Union army by themselves.”

  He grinned. “Let’s settle for the division ahead of us,” he replied. Reiter glanced at his picture of Fletcher and then back at his map. Now there’s nothing to do but wait.

  Something Hausnerr long thought dead stirred inside him. Watching Von Braun’s final words left the man with a cool relief, all the tension left him and a cool smile played across his face. “Muster the air fleet,” he said. “Commence Operation Babel, Markos, as soon as the fleet is launched, prepare to launch Operation Mayhem as soon as they break off their attack.” He turned back towards the General Staff. “After hearing that man’s last words, if you still want to cower in your office while our nation fights for its life, there’s the door.”

  The Signals chief immediately rose from the table. “You’ve lost your mind,” he said. “I’m taking a principled stand against you.”

  “So be it,” Hausnerr said. “You’ll do so from the unemployment line.” He looked around. “Anyone else?”

  The Operations and personnel chiefs also stood to leave. “Just you wait Hausnerr, dignity will be restored to the office of Marshall,” The Operations chief said.

  “Good luck replacing us,” Personnel spat. “I hope you’re happy wasting lives.” Markos moved to follow them out, but Hausnerr stopped him.

  “Markos,” he said, loud enough for the disgraced staff to hear. “Go ahead and take the signals seat, you’re due for promotion, anyway.” As the portly general sat, he called in an attendant from outside. “Promote the deputy Chiefs of Operations and deputy Chief of Personnel, we have new seats available.” He looked down at the staff table. “Any others.”

  The Training chief shook her head. “Von Braun’s words moved me. You were correct Marshall.” The Remaining General Staff nodded in agreement.

  “Well then, now we have a lot of work to do,” he said. “I want 4th Army’s plan on my desk in an hour, nice me the other Army commanders, we need to turn this into a much larger counteroffensive.” The General Staff dissolved as they returned to their various offices to whip the Army back in shape, and Markos to wreck the Union’s network infrastructure.”

  “Excuse me, Marshall Hausnerr,” a young Major said. “President Reinhardt is on the line, she wants to speak with you.” Hausnerr nodded and took the phone line from the man. Motiong for the aide to follow him, he walked into the hallway towards his office.

  “Hausnerr speaking,” he said.

  “I can’t believe that man Von Braun,” the President said. “Congress is debating an armistice resolution right now, it looks like it’s going to be defeated on the floor, but I’d like you to speak on the floor, really drive home the spirt of Von Braun’s message.”

  “How long will they be debating the resolution?” he said. “Because I have to review battle plans and completely redo our war plans, on top of that we have major bombing attacks and a cyber attack underway.”

  “If the peace faction isn’t crushed, then they will continue to be a thorn in our side through this war,” The President said.

  Hausnerr sighed. “We’ll crush them madame President, but it will be with a victory that makes their words hollow and a spirit that makes their faction bankrupt.”

  “Marshall!” Another aide cried as he ran down the hall. “Marshall!”

  “Excuse me, madame President,” he said. “What is it, young man?”

  “Major fleet engagements, in the belt and at Lagrange 7,” he gasped. “It looks like they’re trying to avenge Von Braun.”

  The field Marshall folded his arms. “Well, let’s hope they’re following an established plan and not simply acting out of emotion,” he said. Thanking the man, he returned to his phone call with the President. “Madame President, if they’re still debating in two hours, I’ll be there to say a few words.” He handed the phone back to the aide who handed him a tablet as they walked into the sunny atrium of the Citadel.
“What’s this?”

  “I apologize sir, it’s the battle plans you requested,” the young Major said. “They were able to set all this up thanks to intelligence gained by guerrillas in the hinterlands.” Hausnerr did his best to hide his surprise, but before him lay the entire Union battle plan, as well as the Tharcian one to exploit it.

  “This is amazing,” he said. “This is the most complete intelligence report I have ever seen, thank you Major…”

  “Starnes,” the Major replied. “I was your predecessor’s aide until I found myself stuck with the front line, took them a while to realize I was there too, bastards.”

  With a chuckle, the Marshall clapped him on the back. “Well, I think we’ve found you some new employment, Major Starnes.”

  As Guard-Brigadier Erika Meyer entered the communications tent, Irving’s parting words echoed in her mind. “Landfall is in danger, they isolated us and we’re vulnerable,” the younger woman gasped as medics loaded her into a truck and sent her to the rear. With her mind snapping back to the present, she dragged her boots through the freezing mud to the soldiers struggling to restore a radio set.

  “Status?” She asked. The younger of the two, a treacly man, shook his head.

  “Negative comrade,” he said. “We’ve got power, but all of our encryption equipment is useless.”

  His companion nodded her head. “When the shells hit, they lost synchronization with the wider network, even though our radios work again, we can’t send out any messages until we load an encryption, which’s it stands now is impossible.”

  Cradling her head in her hands, Meyer rubbed her temples with her bony fingers. “So what you’re saying is none of our long range communications can get a message off because we can’t encrypt them?”

  “More or less,” the male comms sergeant said. “If we had even one radio with an active encryption card, we could load the current encryption key before it changes in seven hours.” Meyer cast her gaze to the encroaching dusk outside as a chill wind swept through the tent.