Patriot Dawn: The Resistance Rises

by Velocity, Max

  Caleb’s platoon started to move forward; as they got to within two hundred meters of Zulu Delta they broke into bounding over-watch in pairs. This meant that along the frontage of the skirmish line, each buddy pair moved together, while keeping the integrity of the line as a whole.

  Alex’s platoon also started to move forward on the right. As they closed with the sound of the firing his point squad also began moving by bounding over-watch, in short rushes from tree to tree, the rest of his command following behind.

  At Zulu Delta, the enemy was starting to get a stranglehold on the defensive position. It was not easy for them, and they were being held at bay by the accurate fire from the concealed foxholes. However, as the firefight continued the hunter-killer platoons started to get a better target identification on where the bunkers were.

  Captain Brookings was too far forward for best command and control, but he was an honorable and brave man and his men were in harm’s way and he wanted to lead by example. Just then, his tactical HQ group were being suppressed by fire from a Resistance bunker and the radio operator lying next to him passed over the handset.

  “Sir, it’s call sign Overlord. He’s demanding to speak to you no.!”

  “Overlord? What the hell?” said Captain Brookings as he took the handset. “This is Falcon Alpha, send over.”

  Director Woods screamed into the radio microphone back in the RTOC, “What the fuck Brookings, what’s taking you so long?!”

  “Sir, we have dug in enemy, heavy resistance, we are pinned down.”

  “Brookings, I don’t give a fuck. You are a coward. Get onto that position and kill those redneck hick fucks. Think about the welfare of your family Brookings. Get moving!”

  “Roger that sir. Out.”

  Captain Brookings passed the handset back, the radio operator looking at him wide-eyed, seeing the shock on his face.

  “Right, let’s get some momentum going,” said Captain Brookings, his face red with anger, “we need to press this attack.” He grabbed the handset for the platoon net and started to give orders.

  The hunter-killer company started to hit Zulu Delta with 40mm grenades from their under-slung M203 grenade launchers, carried by two men in every squad. They were only effective against the foxholes if they got them in through the bunker firing ports, which they were unable to do when faced with the effective fire from the Resistance fighters.

  Then, they brought up some SMAW-D bunker busting rockets. These were the equivalent of the AT-4 anti-tank rocked, one shot throwaway weapons designed in this case to destroy enemy bunkers and hard targets.

  A team moved forward towards 1st Squad’s line of foxholes, given covering fire by the enemy platoon that had faltered in the assault and was static in the trees. The SMAW-D team crawled up to the line and was given directions on the location of one of the identified bunkers.

  The first soldier knelt up with the SMAW-D launcher on his shoulder and was immediately thrown back, shot in the chest above his plate. His team leader dragged him into the cover of a tree, picked up the launcher and took aim around the tree trunk. The rocket fired with a concussive thump and went streaking towards the bunker, whipping over the top and detonating beyond Zulu Delta in the trees.

  The response from Zulu Delta was immediate, as they went to rapid fire and began to suppress the area where the rocket had been fired from, dust still floating in the air from the launch. The Ranger team leader was a brave man, and he pulled another rocket towards him and readied it behind the tree. He swung out, acquired the target, and fired.

  The rocket impacted the farthest east foxhole on 1st Squad’s line, killing the two occupants instantly. There was a ragged outburst of cheering from the Regime firing line as the remaining foxholes reacted with furious rapid fire. The tide was beginning to turn. Slowly, but it was turning all the same.

  1st Platoon was moving north in their skirmish line through the trees. They were approaching Zulu Delta, it was up on their right. Suddenly, the near end of the enemy point platoon’s line came into view. The enemy was firing off to the right at Zulu Delta but they had a couple of guys facing south pulling flank security.

  There was an outbreak of firing as both sides collided, Caleb’s skirmish line running for cover. Caleb himself was just behind the line and he urged his men onwards. They were facing the end of the strung out firing line of the enemy point platoon, and they continued to fire and move in their pair’s forwards towards the enemy.

  For the Regime troops, this new development was highly disturbing. They had been flanked by an unknown force and were in serious danger of being rolled up from their right. Their right flank started to fold and they began to pull back to the north, Caleb’s advance supported by fire from the Zulu Delta foxholes upslope as he swept forwards.

  Caleb pushed his platoon forwards until his right flank anchored on the southern foxhole of 2nd Platoon. His left flank was anchored on the trail and he ensured that he placed a team there facing west over the trail in order to provide flank security. This gave him an elongated ‘L’ shape orientated east-west, facing north.

  The enemy point platoon was pulling back to the north by pair’s fire and movement, continually under fire from the foxholes in Zulu Delta as they moved. They were almost combat ineffective due to the accumulation of casualties. Those that were wounded but not immobilized were crawling and dragging themselves out, while others were dragged out by their buddies.

  Meanwhile, on the right flank Alex’s platoon pushed northwards along the slope. They passed in front of Zulu Delta about one hundred meters to the east of the patrol base. Shortly after, the lead squad bumped into the flank of the hunter -killer platoon’s firing line. Again, there was a furious exchange of fire.

  As this happened, Jack had been following 3rd platoon with his tactical HQ. He peeled out from the back of the platoon column and moved into the back of Zulu Delta. With the other three in his tactical HQ team he bounded forwards and they got into the spare foxholes on the rear south east side, where the team there occupied only two of the holes.

  As Alex’s point squad went to ground and began engaging the enemy, supported by fire from Zulu Delta to the west, Alex pushed up to where he could observe the action. He called his two rear squad leaders forward and issued quick battle orders.

  His second squad pushed around to the right, right flanking, in a squad wedge formation, followed by Alex. Behind him followed his third squad in echelon.

  The second squad pushed through the trees and then turned west in their wedge. They hit the east end of the enemy firing line. Again this enemy platoon was faced with being rolled up. They began to withdraw, facing the fire from the squad to the east and the combination of Alex’s first squad and the remaining three north facing foxholes from 2nd Platoon.

  As the enemy began to bound back through the trees, Alex pushed his third squad up beyond his second squad to keep the pressure on the Regime forces.

  Jack was observing what he could see of the battle through his optic, scanning along the trees. He was looking towards the center of the enemy line when he saw through the trees one of the Regime commanders up on one knee, frantically shouting and giving orders in the face of the flanking assaults by Jack’s force, his radio operator beside him.

  Jack focused in through his ACOG, looking to take the shot and take the man down. As he did so, the target looked in his direction. It was impossible for him to see Jack, but the man’s eyes appeared to look right at him. Suddenly, recognition flashed.

  Aaron. Shit.

  Jack stared down the scope, finger on the trigger.

  He couldn’t take the shot.

  There was suddenly a flurry of activity from the enemy as they began to withdraw, and just like that Aaron was gone into the trees. The opportunity was lost. Jack was stunned. The enemy had always been nameless, faceless shapes on the battlefield. Aaron had been his friend, and now they were enemies locked in combat.

  As the enemy platoons withdrew, Jack got the s
ituation reports on his radio. He ordered Caleb to stay in place with his platoon, while Alex’s platoon were to consolidate in place in a triangular defensive position some one hundred yards from Zulu Delta, upslope to the north east.

  This gave the effect of two triangular defensive positions, Zulu Delta with its foxholes, with 3rd Platoon one hundred meters north east in their own position. Caleb’s platoon was in a line from the bottom south west corner of Zulu Delta, strung out to the trail to the west.

  As soon as they confirmed their positions, Jack gave the order to dig in and put up the thermal ponchos. Furiously. They took their entrenching tools out and started to dig in buddy pairs, one man covering while the other knelt and furiously carved out a shell scrape from the forest floor. Anything that lowered their profile below ground level would protect them from incoming rounds and high explosives.

  Casualties had been light on the Resistance side, but Jim was up and cutting about the positions with a working party, collecting casualties and the bodies from the blown foxhole.

  The story among the Regime soldiers was a little different. There was a tideline of a couple of dozen bodies surrounding Zulu Delta, where the Regime troops had crouched in the woods behind trees trying to gain fire superiority, before being rolled up from the flanks and having to withdraw.

  Captain Brookings was not a happy man. His two platoons were forced back in disarray, on the verge of combat ineffective due to the losses sustained. He ordered a withdrawal three hundred meters north and formed a defensive position. He then called for air support.

  The AC-130 was still on station and it requested that the hunter-killer Company pop smoke to identify their location in the trees. They did so, and also relayed the coordinates of Zulu Delta to the gunship.

  The AC-130 was finding it hard to pick up the exact position of the Resistance fighters below the canopy. It identified Captain Brookings’s new defensive position. The bodies lying around Zulu Delta were still warm, some wounded and some even trying to crawl away. This confused the picture, which was further confused by the fact that the AC-130 could not see the foxholes and the other two Resistance platoons were now under thermal ponchos beneath the leaf canopy.

  The AC-130 relayed a request to the RTOC for confirmation of fire coordinates. Director Woods was watching the live feeds on the monitors. The thing was, he hated the military; they had always been the bad guys to him, spreading oppression and death around the world, killing Muslims. He had been enjoying the spectacle of the redneck terrorists and the Rangers fighting it out and killing each other in the forest.

  Director Woods knew that the Resistance base was down there, and he did not care that some of the warm bodies on the monitor from the Ranger Company may still be alive.

  He gave the order, “Weapons free, engage it.”

  Lieutenant Jefferson was over by the map board, watching all of this.

  “Sir, those are most likely friendly forces, some of them are our wounded!”

  Woods turned on him, “Get the fuck out of my RTOC now, you traitorous piece of shit!”

  Lieutenant Jefferson was about to start towards him, military discipline forgotten, when he was intercepted by two of the Director’s security team who were stationed in the RTOC and hustled out of the room. Woods smiled as he was pushed out of the door.

  Director Woods announced to the RTOC, “Those heat signatures are confirmed Resistance, that is the enemy position, engage it now.”

  He turned to the senior Ranger Liaison, “Jefferson, he’s fired, I don’t want to see him back here, see that he is sent for reeducation.” He turned back to the monitors.

  The AC-130 pounded the area around Zulu Delta with its 40mm Bofors cannon and 105mm howitzer. What the aircraft could pick up through the gaps in the tree canopy was mainly the bodies of the dead and wounded Regime soldiers, some of them still alive and trying to crawl away, having been left in the hasty withdrawal.

  After a ten minute bombardment of the area the AC-130 called to return to base for re-arming and refueling, both of which were now depleted by the long mission.

  Back in his defensive position, Captain Brookings linked up with the second company commander, who had brought his command in from the LZ to the north. They huddled together to work out a plan of attack. As they did so, the obligatory call came in from Director Woods on the satellite phone.

  If it had not been plain before, it was plain now. The Resistance would be crushed today, or Captain Brookings’s family was going to the camps.

  As the bombardment from the AC-130 had raged around them, Jack’s 1st and 3rd Platoons had huddled in their shallow scrapes, as much as they could have dug before the bombardment started, while the high explosives and shrapnel shrieked through the trees.

  On the ground around Zulu Delta, it was carnage. The Regime soldier’s bodies, both the dead and those that had only been wounded, had been blown apart, shredded and scattered through the trees, body parts and intestines thrown around and hanging from branches. It was a horror show.

  As soon as the engine noise of the aircraft receded, the fighters were up on their knees frantically digging their scrapes deeper.

  A few of the fighters had been wounded to various degrees and Jim was having them brought into Zulu Delta before moving them back to the collection and treatment point back at Zulu. He was also organizing redistribution of ammunition to resupply those squads who were low.

  Fortunately, Jim had the foresight to plan ahead and Zulu Delta itself had a dug in ammo cache and the foxholes themselves had been stocked with extra ammo that simply remained there as platoons rotated through, so the Company was able to replenish their reserves.

  Thirty minutes later, they came under mortar bombardment from the LZ to the north, where the Regime had flown in fire support elements as well as the additional hunter-killer company.

  It was now mid-afternoon.

  Jack had been in the process of making arrangements to withdraw to the south when the new bombarment began, forcing them to hunker down in the scrapes and foxholes.

  Getting mortared in the woods had its pros and cons. On the one hand, the trees soaked up some of the flying shrapnel. On the other, sometimes the mortar bombs would burst in the trees, instead of in proximity to the ground, which effectively created an airburst and would send shrapnel and wood splinters down onto those in the open below.

  Mortars are an area weapon and they were hard to target in the woods without direct observation. It appeared that the enemy was stonking the general area and the exploding shells were largely ineffective against the sheltering fighters. The bombardment did have the effect of fixing the Resistance force in place.

  Fifteen minutes later, the bombardment ceased. It was ‘danger close’ for the assaulting hunter-killer companies. The fresh company came in from the north in a platoon column formation, the lead platoon colliding with 3rd Platoons triangular defensive position up to the north east.

  Captain Brookings had reorganized his command into two platoons and came in from the low ground to the west. He had put the previous reserve platoon in the lead, with the mauled combined platoon in echelon behind.

  Both companies hit together, working at right angles to one another, one from the north and one from the west. As the western force bumped into Caleb’s flank protection from across the trail, he called his right hand squad down. They were the one that abutted on the right side with Zulu Delta, and they peeled out and moved down to reinforce the left flank. He then moved another team to cover the south, effectively his new left flank, from enemy flanking movements hooking round to his left/rear.

  In both the north and west, the contact between the two forces went as before, with the Regime troops going to ground and ending up in a firebase around fifty meters away. The difference this time was the pressure and the volume of fire directed at the Resistance fighters. The two direction simultaneous assault was also psychologically difficult to deal with, and the expectation was that now that the two sides h
ad reestablished contact, the Regime forces would now try and flank.

  Before the enemy was able to bring too much weight to bear on his forces, Jack ordered 3rd Platoon to withdraw to the south, back the way they had come. He wanted them to move back in-line with Zulu Delta.

  As the Regime advance broke itself on his triangular position, Alex ordered his squads to begin to withdraw. He pushed his rear squad back out of the way and moved his two front squads in tandem, fighting back in buddy pairs within their teams. He managed to gain some breathing space from the enemy as he moved back through the trees, getting back online with Zulu Delta, his third squad covering to the east to prevent a flanking assault from upslope.

  The sudden withdrawal just after contact had been made had prevented the enemy building too much pressure and had the effect of skipping out from under the hammer blow before it could fall.

  As his point platoon made contact with Caleb’s flank protection, Captain Brookings pushed forwards, shouting for his men to advance. They were pinned down, and the fire increased as Caleb brought his squad down to reinforce his flank.

  Captain Brookings was getting desperate, he was under so much pressure from Director Woods and he feared for his family. He could not force the issue; his men simply could not move further forwards under the withering accurate fire from the Resistance fighters.

  Captain Brookings took his tactical HQ group and moved round to his right, trying to flank the Resistance line. He pushed forwards, showing reckless bravery, trying to skirmish forwards on his right flank, desperate to flank and break the Resistance line.

  McCarthy was in a fire position towards the left of Caleb’s flank protection line. He saw the rush of Regime soldiers bounding forwards through the trees, trying to keep up with their commander. The officer was a brave man; he came on firing his weapon as he skirmished through the trees.