“We’re gonna need air support,” said Green.
“Remember, no contact unless we are engaged,” Jones ordered.
“You think these bastards have come for a picnic?”
“Command will be seeing what’s going on, they’ll do whatever they deem necessary.”
“Yeah, while we get our balls blown off!”
Jones turned back to the incoming alien forces and watched as the last of the steel monsters clambered out of the vehicles. They were not graceful creatures, but he could only watch in awe at their striking image. Eight of the armoured soldiers exited from each of the six vehicles. Forty-eight against the battalion’s almost seven hundred men were the sort of odds that any soldier would like, but not here.
The vehicles suddenly came to a close and the massive soldiers spread out between them. It was if they had stopped to admire the view, looking around in every direction. To Jones they were the aliens, but he realised to them, everything on Earth was alien. As the soldiers stepped from the hard wet sand of the waterline, they began to sink into the sand.
For a moment the Captain thought the enemy had underestimated the terrain, and a few of his lads began to laugh. Seconds later, the armoured soldiers pressed buttons on their suits and giant webbed feet extended from their spring legs, giving the same effect as snow shoes, expanding their surface area. The men of the platoon laughed no longer, they were quickly learning that this was not an enemy to be taken lightly.
“What do we do, Sir?”
“Absolutely nothing, Green, this is their move.”
The enemy surveyed the line of mounds and dunes where the battalion was set up. It was fairly clear that they had spotted the troops, what was uncertain was their intentions. Guns began to rise from the roof sections of the tanks, but they were comparatively small for the size of vehicles. As the guns locked into position the vehicles started to roll forward, the soldiers between them. Then without warning, light erupted from their weapons.
Huge pulses of light landed around their positions, they could feel the heat from each blast even ten metres away. For whatever technology they did have, targeting equipment did not seem to be their strong point.
“What do we do, Sir?” screamed Saunders.
“Hold!”
An explosion ripped down the line of defences in the platoon next to theirs. One of the rounds hit a man square on and blew his body apart, cauterising the bloody wounds in the process from the immense heat. Smoke arose from the body as one of his comrades screamed in pain from a lesser injury.
“Fire!” shouted Jones.
The beachhead erupted into a constant bellowing of gunfire. The accurate shooting of the para boys would have flattened a human wave attack, but the metal monsters continued forwards. The cannon-like turret mounted weapons on the vehicles fired in a slow but almost continuous barrage. Two of Jones’ platoon were hit by rounds from enemy fire. Over the gunfire he could already hear the screams for help and the cries of pain, he could do nothing about it, they needed every gun firing.
One of the alien soldiers stepped ahead of the rest and he was immediately targeted by half the battalion’s gunfire. The amount of metal smashing into his armour forced the creature to a standstill, until finally it collapsed through injuries sustained.
“That’s it, boys, take them down!”
The enemy tanks began to gain pace and were now within just a hundred metres of them. Jones turned to see his company commander running down the lines. Three of his platoon were dead and two more wounded.
“Get the ARMALs into action!”
They all had radio comms, but Jones knew many of the men would be too distracted by the fire fight and their fallen comrades to listen to any commands given. One of the men a few metres to his side lifted the device onto his shoulder and took aim. Before he could fire he was hit by one of the enemy weapons, taking half his face off and rendering the weapon useless.
Jones dropped back gasping at the slaughter around him. He turned to the other two men who lay against the embankment with the launchers.
“Get up there and fire!”
The Captain pulled himself up to survey the situation and lifted his rifle into view. Four of the creatures lay dead or at least incapacitated on the sand, but it was a small relief compared to the casualties of the battalion.
The first ARMAL fired, a large smoke plume erupting from the launcher. The rocket soared towards the first vehicle at high speed and smashed into it. The round ignited into a huge flash as it struck. The vehicle continued on through the smoke cloud, its armour scorched and torn. The men could see that they had damaged it, just not enough.
Looking down the line of paras, Jones could already see that the other platoons were putting their launchers into effect. Seconds later three launchers fired almost in sequence at the same vehicle. The second caused it to burst into flames and draw to a halt. The third padded through the gaping hole in the armour and must have finished off whatever was controlling the vehicle, as no one made an attempt to escape.
Cries of victory and excitement rang out across the line of defences as the men threw their arms up in the air and shouted abuse at their attackers. The enemy didn’t seem fazed by the destruction of their vehicle and continued on towards the soldiers.
“Alright, reload and give them all you’ve got!” shouted Jones.
Major Stewart, Jones’ company commander, ran up to their position and threw himself onto the embankment beside the Captain. His ear was bleeding and his radio earpiece was hanging loose.
“Are you okay, Sir?”
“The Colonel is dead, Captain, HQ staff with him!”
The Major was shouting, his hearing was blown and he was still in a state of shock, perhaps disorientated as well.
Jones looked quickly back over the defences and fired three bursts at the nearest attacker. Smoke trails let out from along the lines as every platoon tried to take out the enemy tanks with their ARMAL launchers. He looked back to the stricken Major.
“Who’s in charge of the battalion, Sir?”
“I am, Captain! What do I do?”
Jones looked down at the Major, his hands were empty. He reached across to one of the bodies of his fallen men and tugged the rifle from the dead soldier’s hands. He thrust it into the clutches of the Major.
“Get up there and start shooting!”
The Captain returned the same target he’d been firing at, the armoured beast was now staggering, its leg armour damaged. He let out several well-aimed bursts at the mirrored section of what he thought was its face, just as Taylor had advised. A gunner beside him targeted the same spot with sustained fire from his BRUN gun, the glass-like section shattered sending the Mech stumbling into the sand in a crumpled and twisted mess.
A pulse of light flashed past Jones’ head. He ducked but was fortunate that it was already off target, the heat of the shot singed his face and eyebrows. He turned to see Saunders cradling his arm to his side. His batman was wounded and his armour and clothing were smouldering. He had no sympathy for the man, not when their friends were dying around them.
“Saunders! Get your arse up there and keep fighting!”
He crawled up to the top of the embankment to see the carnage of the battlefield. At least fifteen of the Mechs were now destroyed, but he could see dead and wounded men all along their defences. The enemy were just thirty metres from their position and still approaching at a steady pace.
“Grenades!” he shouted.
Every man in the battalion carried two grenades. The high explosive fragmentation grenades had a blast radius of five metres and were highly effective against the regular infantry armours that Earth forces used. Jones drew out his first grenade and twisted the firing mechanism, looking around to see others doing the same before quickly throwing it as far as he could. Ducking back behind cover, he waited and hoped.
Explosions ignited all along the line of the attackers. Seconds later they were joined by bellowing shells from
the north, far louder than anything on their battlefield. Jones turned to look to the north, but the land obscured his view. Over and over they heard cannons firing.
“It’s the 2 ^ nd Armoured!” shouted Green.
The men wanted to cheer, but they were too distracted by the enemy closing in on them.
“Alright, boys, give them everything you’ve got!” Jones ordered.
He twisted the trigger on his second grenade and threw it over the top, immediately lifting his rifle and opening fire. The battalion brought its full weight to bare, grenades, ARMAL launchers and machine guns. Despite the hailstorm of bullets and rockets, the Mechs continued to fire. Explosions erupted all across the sands as the tanks were punctured and set on fire, the armoured soldiers crippled and destroyed.
Finally, the beach went silent, only the heavy guns to the north continued to roar. Captain Jones stood up on the embankment and looked down the length of the defences. He could see medics working desperately to patch up and save the wounded. There were six dead in his platoon alone and several wounded.
“Saunders, get onto the Brigadier, inform him that we have held the beachhead but sustained heavy casualties!”
He looked out to the burning wrecks of the vehicles and the collapsed armoured soldiers around them.
“The rest of the platoon with me!”
Jones released the magazine from his rifle, slipping in a new clip as he walked cautiously. He lifted his rifle to his shoulder and kept it ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Black smoke bellowed from the flames of the vehicles, but they were fortunate that the winds blew it south.
“Shoot anything that moves!”
He carefully walked up to the first Mech’s body. It was on its back with one of its legs buckled from an explosion, likely from a grenade. Staring at the armour more closely, it was not as crude as first thought. The design work was brutish and harsh, but the quality of construction was fine engineering.
Kneeling down beside the body, he rested his hand on the metal work. It was smooth, as if highly polished, yet the finish was quite dull. He tapped it with the plated knuckles of his gloves. It was thick, he guessed about ten millimetres. He lifted one of the lifeless arms of the suit and it was surprisingly light. He could only imagine that the metal was of an unknown material.
The Major turned back to look at the positions they had fought from. There were craters all along the embankments and scattered bodies. His curiosity about the enemy was over, all he cared about was that they were dead. He moved back to the defences as gunshots rang out behind him. The last few living Mechs were being finished off with no mercy.
He stopped next to an army medical corps officer who was attending a wounded man. The enemy’s energy weapon had burnt through the flank of the chest section, taking some of the man’s flesh with it. Major Stewart sat near them with his head in his hands.
“Major, what are the total casualties?”
The officer said nothing, not even turning to look at the Captain.
“Major!”
The doctor turned and answered the question himself, understanding the state of shock Stewart was experiencing.
“Reports so far for the battalion are ninety-five dead, thirty-six wounded. These weapons don’t leave many casualties.”
Jones shook his head. Their unit had never lost more than three soldiers on any operation in the last ten years. The officers in charge of the other companies strolled into view, their faces were wrought with despair. They were led by Major Chandra, a bold woman, and the only female to lead a company in the parachute regiment.
“Captain, The Colonel is dead, we’ve also lost quite a few other officers and NCOs.”
“Major Stewart is unfit for command and I have relieved him, with his permission.”
Chandra nodded, it was the worst day of her illustrious career. Never could she have imagined so much carnage among such a fine troop of soldiers.
“You are now commanding D Company?” she asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then I am making you Acting Commander of D Company. I am the senior officer left here and am assuming command of the Battalion.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“We’ve faced a shit storm here, Captain, but we cannot afford to slack and lick our wounds. Assign a replacement to command your platoon, have your troops salvage any ammunition from the dead and start digging in.”
“Sir!”
“What the hell is that?” shouted Green.
Captain Jones turned to look out into the Atlantic. He was squinting to make out what was behind the trailing black smoke plumes from the wrecked vehicles. He raised his binoculars not believing what he could see. On the horizon he could make out the same blurred outlines of the enemy amphibious tanks steaming towards the shoreline. They were just thirty minutes out at the most, and in greater numbers.
“My, God!”
“Keep firing!” shouted Kelly.
The MDF men stood in three lines firing repeatedly at the metal monsters as they went around the corner of the narrow corridor up ahead. Two of the Mechs were already down. In the close range they could concentrate their fire well against single enemies, although they had little cover. Their comrades lay strewn among the dead civilians in every area of the colony. The third armoured soldier before them dropped lifeless to the deck.
“Sir, we must fall back!” shouted Private Lewis.
Kelly looked around the corridor at the carnage. A number of his comrades were wounded, many more were dead or dying in the ground they had already fought over. They had put up a noble fight and had brought down many a foe, but he knew they were fighting a losing battle.
“I will not give up our homeland!”
“Sir, we’ve already lost it, all that’s left are the people!”
The Commander looked around in despair, a small trickle of blood dripped down his worn and tired face where the impact from an explosion had knocked him against an interior wall. His face was black with dirt and sweat, he ached in every bone and muscle in his body. He was almost brought to tears, knowing that they had lost everything they’d fought for.
Commander Kelly had been in charge of the Moon Defence Force for twenty-two years, a role that he had inherited from his father. Never could he have imagined that he would have to concede it to a technologically advanced alien race, which appeared to want nothing more but to execute them all.
“Alright, fall back to the bunker!”
The Private looked relieved as he sent out the command to their forces. However, it didn’t completely remove the worry from his face. No one knew if surrender was even a possibility against the iron army they fought. The Commander turned and led his men back to the re-enforced blast bunker.
As he approached the lines of dead and dying lining the corridors confronted him. Anyone still able to hold a gun was stood or propped up outside the blast doors. The men did their best to stand to attention as the Commander went past them, but many were gritting their teeth under the pain of their injuries. Kelly smiled back at them in appreciation, desperately trying to hide his sorrow.
He went straight up to the comms officer who was watching the video feeds that were still operational. He rubbed his eyes and squinted to make out what he was seeing from the rooftop cameras.
“It’s Colonel Visser, Sir.”
Kelly studied the video intently. The Colonel was standing on the roof of the government building in his compression suit. He wore no weapons and only held one object, a white flag slung on an l-shape pole.
“What the hell is he doing? He’s surrendering, or trying to!”
“Maybe we should join him,” said Lewis.
Before Kelly could respond he watched as a glimmer panned across the screen, an enemy vessel in its terrain mapping camouflage. The vessel landed on the rooftop just thirty metres from the Colonel. He still held the white flag high in both arms. The Commander hated Visser for being a coward earlier on in the fight, but now he hoped with all his
heart that he would come to no harm.
The vessel’s chameleon device switched off as a door opened and three armoured aliens stomped out onto the roof. Visser stood his ground. They could see that he was trying to speak to them, under the hope that they might understand something of what he said, or at least his intentions.
Of the three armoured soldiers, the one at the front stood out from the rest. The armour was decorated with a golden coloured banding on the corner edges and painted with symbols that meant nothing to them. This creature held some form of authority over the rest.
“What are they doing, Sir?” asked Lewis.
“I don’t know.”
As the men watched the screens in both anticipation and fear, the lead alien lifted his arm and fired a small pulse weapon attached to his arm. The shot blasted straight through Colonel Visser’s chest and out the back, leaving a gaping hole. He died instantly. None of them said a word.
In that moment Kelly knew that their struggle was far from over. There was no surrender, no retreat. He turned to his men, thirty soldiers surrounded the desks, many more were waiting outside the bunker. He had a grim expression on his face. Gone was the warmness in his heart, replaced with shear hatred, all he had left was survival and revenge.
“There it is for you all to see! These bastards don’t just want our land. They want our lives! You have only two choices before you, lay down and die, or fight!”
The room remained silent as they all clung to his words. Many of their families were already dead and many more were unaccounted for. At fifty-eight years of age, Kelly never expected that he would ever have to lead a serious combat operation, let alone an army.
“This colony has endless underground corridors, bunkers and research tunnels. We can no longer hold onto ground, we can no longer fight in open war. Today we go underground. Tomorrow we fight back. Let no one be unclear here. The following days and weeks will be more horrific than any of you can imagine. Earth is at war and we have no rescue in sight. But I’ll be damned if I am going to die without a fight! Who is with me?”
Battle Earth 1 be-1 Page 9