The Buchanan Campaign
Page 32
The Spacehawks seemed to come in an endless string, raking the forest on all around the firebase, even strafing the western slope of the ridge. Trees erupted. Alfie saw one that seemed to lift off like a rocket, climbing twenty yards before it lost its momentum and tipped over as it started to fall back to earth.
For nearly five minutes the noise of the air assault was overpowering. The Marines on the ground could do nothing better than hunker down, and stay out of the line of fire and debris.
Then there was silence. At first, no one seemed to react to the change. Then, slowly, Marines started to straighten up. They looked out at the ruins of the forest around them. There wasn’t a single tree standing within two hundred yards. Most were burning or smoking. There were no Federation soldiers moving anywhere in that devastation. Gradually, the Marines realized that the fight was over. A few stood.
When no Federation fire came in, more Marines got to their feet.
“Let’s get busy,” David said over his platoon frequency, “Check the wounded. Let’s do what we can.” As soon as he had his people moving, he switched channels. Asa Ewing didn’t answer, but Ian Shrikes did.
“We’ve got medevac shuttles on their way,” Ian said. “There’ll be shuttles for the rest of us as soon as we get the wounded moved.”
David looked around from his position on the crest of the ridge. “We get the wounded loaded, we won’t need many more shuttles.”
Epilogue
Five days later, David Spencer led the survivors of First Battalion’s I&R platoon back down to the surface of Buchanan. Only eighteen men survived of the thirtytwo who had first landed on the world. Six of those eighteen men had spent time in trauma tubes, recovering from wounds received in the platoon’s last battle.
This time, the platoon wasn’t landing to fight. Along with representatives from the rest of the Second Regiment, and detachments from each ship and fighter wing, David and his men were landing to attend a ceremony.
The shuttle landed smoothly on the runway of Buchanan’s spaceport and taxied to a stop near the ruins of what had once been the terminal building. David formed his men up as soon as they debarked—as two squads instead of four. For an instant he saw the faces of the dead standing in ranks with the survivors, and he bit his lip. The taste of blood brought David back to reality. He looked at the men who were there. They were wearing undress khakis, no field skins, helmets, or weapons.
David would have welcomed a helmet, or a pocket complink, so he could ask where he was supposed to take his men. Several other contingents of Marines had formed up in the grass at the side of the spaceport, and there were growing numbers of Buchananers a little farther off, beyond a small platform that had been built and draped in colorful banners over the past two days.
David called his men to attention and was ready to march them toward the other Marines when he saw a naval officer running toward them. It took David a moment to recognize Ian Shrikes in dress whites.
David walked out to meet him, and saluted when they met.
“Good to see you again, Spencer,” Ian said, smiling as he returned the salute. They walked back to the I&R platoon together. ”Good to see all of you.”
“Where do you want us for this ceremony, Commander?” David asked.
“Ah, I didn’t know quite how to break this to you before, but you’ll be right up front. You and your lads aren’t here to witness the ceremony. I’m afraid you’re part of it.”
“Sir?” David asked.
“At the specific request of the Buchanan Planetary Commission, through its new chairman, Doug Weintraub,” Ian explained.
“Do you know what’s up for us?” David asked. He wanted to ask if there was any way to escape the formalities, but knew better.
“Not in any detail,” Ian said. “Weintraub has been quite closemouthed about this. All he would say was that he wants to show some measure of the gratitude that he feels he and Buchanan owe you and your men.”
“We’re just part of the team, sir. Nothing special.”
“I’m the wrong man to protest to, Sergeant. I’m as stuck as you are. All we can do is smile and hope that it doesn’t take all day.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s give them a smart show marching in. At least your men won’t have to stand through all the speechifying. As honored guests, you’ll have chairs.”
“That much is welcome,” David said. Behind him, one man cheered softly. David recognized Alfie’s voice, but took no official notice. Not now.
There were speeches, more than enough for any Marine. Doug Weintraub and two other members of the Commission spoke. Prince William spoke. So did Admirals Truscott and Raleigh.
The major item on the agenda was a formal offer of membership in the Second Commonwealth, made by Prince William and accepted by Doug Weintraub—to the general cheers of the Buchananers who had come to watch this ceremony. More than 80 percent of the population had come out to be part of this moment.
After the offer and acceptance, Doug returned to the microphone on the platform.
‘ ‘It is impossible for us to properly thank every man and woman who contributed to our liberation, but we would be terribly remiss if we didn’t take special notice of at least a few of those brave souls. During the recent campaign, I lived and fought at the side of the Intelligence and Reconnaissance platoon of Headquarters and Service Company, First Battalion, Second Regiment of Royal Marines, led by Sergeant David Spencer.”
From the row of seats behind David, Ian Shrikes whispered, “Get up, Spencer, you and your men. Time to take your bows.”
David stood and gestured for his men to do the same. Looking around, David saw that his men were as flustered and uncomfortable as he was at being the center of attention for more than thirty thousand spectators.
“The platoon came to Buchanan with thirty two men,” Doug continued, looking directly at David.
“Fourteen of those men have been buried here, sacrificed to help buy back our liberty. We will remember their names, and we will remember the names of these men here. Sergeant Spencer, would you come up here, please?”
David looked around as if he hoped for a lastminute reprieve, but no one came to his assistance. The people of Buchanan were applauding, stretching it out, waiting for him to get up on the platform. David moved slowly, and the last few steps were almost impossible to take.
“You’ve been a friend and mentor in addition to everything else,” Doug said, shaking David’s hand. “We have this token of our appreciation.” One of the other commission members handed him a large, framed document. “Our commendation to you and your men, David. If you or any of your men should happen, someday, to leave the Royal Marines and want to settle on Buchanan, we will provide homesteads and all that is needed to start a new life here. That offer stands for all members of the Commonwealth forces who came to help us regain our freedom.”
Josef Langenkamp was limping when he moved away from the center of the ceremony after it ended. His right leg had been shredded badly during the last phase of what was already being called the Three Hills’ Battle. Against the advice of the flight surgeon, Josef had come out of the trauma tube for this visit. He needed another day or more in the tube, and would be returning to it as soon as he returned to Sheffield.
Kate Hicks was at his side now, holding on to him as if she were afraid he would disappear if she let go.
“I want a word with those Marines before we go back to the shuttle,” Josef said. “They’re the lads who pulled me out of the forest. They deserve every medal the Commonwealth has to give, and a few new ones for good measure.”
“I’d give them a medal myself for getting you out of Spacehawks,” Kate said. “Ejecting twice in one month. I know you’re not thrilled, but I’m glad they’re going to put you on a desk back on Buckingham.”
“I still say it’ll drive me crazy.” He had argued against the new assignment, as well as he could from a trauma tube, but the flight surgeon had insisted
. After another shock, his brain was rejecting its new neural implant. It had to be removed, and without an implant, no one could fly a Spacehawk. “If you weren’t going back with me…”
“But I am.” Kate tightened her grip on his arm. “Training command. Deputy operations officer for the Second Training Wing.” Both of them were being advanced to lieutenant commander.
There were bundles of promotions being awarded in the wake of the Buchanan Campaign. Ian Shrikes made captain, in line for a command of his own as soon as there was an opening. David Spencer had already been named Lead Sergeant for H&S Company of the First Battalion. Tory Kepner made sergeant to replace David as I&R platoon sergeant. Hugo Kassner hadn’t survived the last battle. Six of the remaining privates in the platoon were being advanced to corporal. They would provide the cadre for the platoon when it was remanned.
Even Admiral Truscott was receiving a promotion, but his was more a promotion of position rather than rank. Sir John Raleigh had named him the new chief of naval operations. “You came up with these cockeyed new tactics,” Long John told Truscott when they met aboard Sheffield after the surrender of the last Federation ships. “Now you’re going to put them into effect throughout the fleet. We’ve won one battle, but it’s not the war, not by a long patch.” It was only later that Stasys learned to his bemusement that a knighthood went with the new job.
THE END OF BOOK ONE - THE BUCHANAN CAMPAIGN - FEDERATION WAR TRILOGY
Table of Contents
Book One
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Epilogue