It was even clearer to Captain Jones that they needed one thing more than anything else, bigger guns. They outnumbered the alien invaders in every fight, but didn’t have the individual firepower to bring them down.
“Let’s get this street closed down, I want dragon’s teeth on a thirty metre stretch and ABDs up now!”
The platoons leapt into action. The last fight had given them no more than a few moments to prepare, but now they could bring new hardware to the table. The men pulled out boxes from the side and under trays of the trucks. They threw them down on the roads up ahead. The devices automatically created dug out trenches with earthwork barriers and tank traps.
The technology had cost a fortune to develop and the devices they used were equally as expensive. Never in their military’s history had they had need for their usage. A platoon would take half a day to dig a trench and ground up earthworks, but these could do it in less than an hour. Better still, they could do so on any surface. Drawing anything from ground, from earth to concrete, they could create highly defensive positions in an astonishing time.
“Take up positions in the buildings! I want ARMALs on the roofs, deploy motors, set up a firing arc on this route. Let’s give these bastards hell!” Jones shouted.
Chandra stepped back to his position after barking similar orders to the company she previously commanded.
“Captain, I have ordered A and B Companies to hold the southern limits as long as they can, this will be our last line of defence for the city. If they get past us here, the armour is finished.”
“Girard having a hard time?”
“He’s just about holding, but sounds like the enemy have brought up heavier equipment that we are yet to see. He might last a while in his current positions, but only if we can hold the rear.”
Jones took the Major’s arm and led her out of earshot of any of the men.
“We are digging our own graves here, Major. The only exit point we have left is the road to Morlaix to the east and we are getting dangerously close to be encircled.”
“I am well aware of that, Captain, as is Brigadier Dupont.”
“So he intends to leave us here to die?”
“No, Captain. The brass has accepted that our armour will never leave this place, they are organising a mass airlift as we speak. They only ask that we hold out as long as possible to keep the enemy from advancing further east while they amass forces.”
Jones sighed in relief. He was beginning to lose faith in their leaders, now at least they had a plan. Their attention was quickly turned to a soaring sound of powerful engines to the west, followed by explosions in the city. They looked up to see the familiar blurred outlines of the camouflaged ships of the invaders flying by overhead. The city shook with the tremors of whatever bombs they had just dropped. They could only imagine the pounding the French armour was taking.
Taylor still sat uneasily amongst the top brass in the General’s Command Centre. He never wanted the responsibility of sitting at a desk and making decisions that affected countries. The Major was a combat soldier. His rear was going numb and his knees beginning to ache. It was a clammy and humid room, but that may have just been the tension of the situation.
For all of his gruelling combat and physical training, Mitch had never felt so fatigued as he had done in this room. He looked again at the scanner, showing the flight trajectory of thousands of aircraft.
“What’s our status?” asked Smith.
“Our boys are fifteen minutes out from target,” said White.
The next step of the U.S. forces had been a massive aerial strike. No longer had their leaders fretted about small strikes or testing the water. They had amassed more fighters and bombers for one single mission that had been seen since a world war. Where a dozen missiles failed, thousands of aircraft could succeed, or at least that was the principle.
“Do we have any idea if we can shoot their craft down?” Smith asked.
“This is a new experience for us all, we can only do the best under difficult circumstances. Our boys have faced off against these bastards. Major Taylor was able to bring down their soldiers and they aren’t invulnerable. We’ll keep hitting these bastards until they go down!” shouted White.
“General White, may I have a word with you in private?” asked Taylor.
The General nodded, he’d never been interrupted in the middle of an operation before, but he had quickly come to trust the Major. Not only that he knew he had to open his mind to new ideas. Both men were glad to get to their feet and stretch their weary bodies. White led Taylor into a small office next to the command room. They happily stood as they straightened their backs.
“General, we have to entertain the possibility that this mission will fail. Either because their aerial defences will be highly effective or our bombs are too ineffective.”
“What are you suggesting, Major?”
“We know two things right now, we have had some success in ground combat, we just need bigger guns. We also know that France and Spain are taking a beating. I suggest we re-equip as best we can with heavy weapons and amass for a large scale infantry strike.”
“At what location, Major?”
“Strike right at them. The EUA forces are fighting on mainland Europe to the east. If we strike directly at Tartaros with substantial forces, we open a second front and take the fight to them. It should alleviate the pressure on Europe and allow them a chance to push back.”
The General shook his head. He always knew in the back of his mind that a large-scale ground deployment could be possible, he’d just tried to not think about it.
“The last thing I want to do is put tens of thousands of troops into a warzone, but if it has to be done, so be it. Let us just be thankful that we’re not having to fight on our own soil.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Major, I am giving you permission to leave. We are not making any final decisions until we see the result of the air attack, but let’s get started on sorting out the weapon situation. We still have a lot of weapons in store from fifty years ago, considered excessive for the modern day peace we enjoyed until so recently. Get to the armoury stores, you have permission to take and use anything you need, I am giving you the highest security clearance.”
“I appreciate it, General, I will do my best to equip my company with the best equipment I can find, but we’ll need to a equip a great many more men in the coming weeks.”
“I hear you, Major. Sort through everything we have, equip your men and get a report to me by the end of the day on urgent operational requirements. Anything we need we’ll put into immediate production or purchase.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
“Now, I have a mission to oversee, get to it, and God help us all.”
Major Taylor saluted the General before taking his leave. He was grateful to get away from the high stress atmosphere of the Command Centre. Despite the risks involved, he would rather take a combat mission any day than return there.
He left the building and lifted his communicator, calling his company base. He requested Captain Friday and Sergeant Silva. He could not afford to remove too many of the command staff at any one time, but he also knew how vital it was to source new equipment. The armoury was a ten-minute drive across the base. He flagged down the first passing jeep.
The driver immediately recognised the Major and was keen to help. With his rank the man had little choice but to assist him, but he could have made it difficult, quoting procedure. The fact was that Taylor had become a minor celebrity on the base, the man who survived the Moon invasion and rescued their Prime Minister.
To Taylor the Moon mission was a disaster. But compared to much of what was happening on Earth it had at least succeeded in part. The driver, a young corporal, was eager to discuss the action he’d seen up there but it was a sad reminder of the events for the officer. Rolling up outside the armoury, Friday, Silva and also Parker were already there. Taylor was surprised that they were able t
o get there so quickly.
“How long have you been here, Captain?”
“A while, Sir.”
“But I only called you here ten minutes ago.”
“Sir, the company needs some hardware, we’ve been trying to convince them to give it to us all morning, but I fear anymore and we’ll be escorted away.”
Taylor grinned. His troops did not fear combat, they only loathed the idea of returning to it without the equipment they needed.
“The time for waiting is over, Captain, I have been given unlimited access and authority to draw whatever I wish, as well as to compile a report on recommended equipment for urgent operational requirements for the whole division.”
“Right!” shouted Silva.
The Major continued on with the three others at his back. They waked right up to the guard entrance to the armouries. It was obvious that they had been putting up with the exploits of Captain Friday for some time, and had finally lost.
“Major Taylor?” the guard asked.
“Yeah.”
“General White has authorised you full access to the stores and ordered our personnel to co-operate fully.”
Taylor studied the man more intently, a sergeant. He was certainly a man with no field experience, but a lot in administration. He had a scornful expression on his face, hating the fact that he had been forced to allow the others to pass.
The huge shutters of the massive structure opened. They were wide enough for a lorry to be driven through. The four marines stepped inside, stopping in amazement. Racks that were thirty metres high stretched as far back as they could see. None of them had ever seen the stores. All ammunition was delivered to and kept in battalion stores.
After the many great wars of the last century, much of the hardware had been put aside as it was considered unnecessary for a world that lived for the most part in peace. A corporal in combats came up to them, leaving the guard on duty at the front of the building.
“Welcome, gentlemen, I am Corporal Weaver. The General says you need some guns.”
“Damn right, Corporal. We need personal arms. High explosive and armour penetration are the most important qualities. Last fight we had we simply didn’t pack enough punch.”
“Yes, Sir, a few things come to mind.”
Weaver led them to an opening in the storage crates where several sofas were set up with a TV and a fridge.
“This where you spend your work hours?” asked Taylor.
“Only when the work runs out, Major.”
Mitch laughed. The man clearly made the most of his position, but he was also organised and efficient. He knew some officers would take issue with the Corporal’s approach to aspects of his job, but he was only interested in the end result.
“Make yourself comfortable, Major, I’ll be back with a selection of what we’ve got ASAP.”
“Thank you, Corporal.”
The Major and his marines took a seat as the Corporal hurried off about his business. Before any of them could open their mouths to speak a word, Taylor’s communicator buzzed. He answered, it was General White.
“Major, the aerial attack has not gone as we had hoped. Our fighters have been met with heavy resistance and the bombing runs are not doing enough damage, not enough to make a difference.”
“Sorry to hear that, General.”
“Major, we can no longer sit by and fight from a distance, it’s time to put men on the ground. That means I need you to work even faster than intended. I want a list of equipment recommendations for infantry forces in my hand within the next two hours. Understand this, Major, you’re going to be entering a warzone, but without the industry and war machine working with you, you’ll get nowhere!”
“Understood, General, over and out.”
Chapter 7
Four men stumbled into the room where Kelly sat, they carried one badly wounded man between them. The old Commander looked on with a woeful expression. Seeing his people die was a heart wrenching experience, but he knew that he could not win any victories without losses.
“Sir, we took down two of the bastards, but we have two dead and two wounded. We can’t win with this sort of attrition, there’s just not enough of us.”
Kelly looked around the room at the bedraggled forces. They had adopted an old underground research facility as their new base. So far it was unknown to the enemy forces. A hundred men and women lay about the facility, tightly packed in. Thousands more were crammed into any safe place that could be found.
The regular missions into the building above ground were risky, but a necessary risk in order to continue rescuing survivors and foraging for supplies. It was apparent that many of the alien forces had left the Moon to assist in the battle for Earth, but there was still more than enough of a force to stop them from fighting in open combat.
“We need to contact Earth, we need their help. Guns, ammunition and food. Without it we are dead,” said Kelly.
“What are they going to do for us? You saw what the Earth forces did when we were attacked! They turned tail and ran!”
Kelly looked at the angry soldier, Private Doyle of the MDF, who had risen to commander of a section simply through battlefield casualties.”
“I will remind you, Doyle, that many UEN soldiers still fight and die beside us!”
“Not by choice, they’d have got out if they could!”
Kelly got up and stormed across the room, shouting at the man.
“Don’t you think we’d all have gotten out if we knew what was coming? We defend these lands for the people, not for the damn land!”
Doyle looked sheepish. He knew he’d been an idiot, but it was a hard fact to stomach or admit. The Moon inhabitants had become hugely attached to their lands, despite few Earth dwellers understanding the appeal.
“We have a steady supply of air down here with plenty of processors feeding into the old bunkers we are using. However, we were never equipped for war. We have too few guns, an ever dwindling supply of ammunition and food is running out quickly.”
“You think anyone down there can or will be willing to help, Sir?”
“Yes, I do. But if they’re not aware of these hardships we are facing it is unlikely they will, so I cannot guarantee we will get any assistance. But I’m confident that if they knew they would do everything in their power to help us.”
“I could get a signal out,” said Lewis.
Kelly shot a glance at the communications officer, a capable man who had never experienced field duties.
“Are you certain?”
“If at least some of the equipment is still undamaged, then yeah, I can do it.”
“Where would you need to be?”
“At one of the comms stations, nearest is just above the surface from here on the third floor of the library.”
“Good, then let’s not waste any time, prep anything you need, I’ll assemble a message so there is no time wasted. Doyle, get your wounded taken care of, but return immediately with a full section, draw troops from wherever you have to.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Doyle rushed off to carry out his orders. The demoralised young man had seen a glimmer of hope and was chasing it with all his energy. Kelly turned back to the comms officer who looked uneasy. He was impressed at the man’s courage in volunteering, but he could see the fear in his face and body language.
“Lewis, what else do we need?”
“Just me, get me to those rooms with the message you want to send and pray everything still works!”
Ten minutes later the men were assembled and ready to move. They strapped on their body armours. The experiences they’d in combat had shown the armours to be far less effective than against man-made weapons. But they could still save a man from glancing blows, as well as fragmentation and trauma from explosions that some of the pulse weapons caused.
Kelly felt foolish in his armour, too old to be wearing it and too old to be fighting. Despite this, he would not ask the men to risk what he would not
. Getting that signal out could be the single most important thing they did for survival and he wanted to ensure it went to plan. Twelve men were all that were going up into the surface buildings. They had many more capable fighters, but they couldn’t fight the enemy in open combat. They had become reliant on staying out of contact or ambushing one or two of the Mechs at a time.
“All ready?” he asked.
The men nodded. He looked around the room to see civilians and soldiers alike staring at them. Their faces were blank, still in shock. Many of them had seen friends, family and neighbours killed by the invading creatures. He knew he could not leave without giving them some hope.
“Listen up! All of you!”
The room was near silent before, but now you could hear a pin drop.
“We are going to get help from Earth! I am confident that if they can find a way, they will help us! We didn’t come down here to die, we came here to survive! We’ll beat these sons of bitches. I know you have lost a lot, we all have, but we still have each other! We will survive and we will win!”
There was no response, no cheering, the people were still too shocked to show any major emotion. He could see that a few faces looked doubtful, but many more had just a faint touch of hope.
“Martinez, if I don’t return, you’re in charge.”
Kelly had known the officer for many years. He liked the man and trusted him with many things, but knew that he wouldn’t be capable of leading them to survival, let alone victory. Despite this, he had no better choice. He made the gesture out of procedure rather than anything else.
“Let’s go!”
They strode out of the room towards one of the access tunnels they used to get up to the surface structure. A ladder led up to a small storage room on the ground floor of the library building above. The underground access tunnels had been carefully hidden and forgotten by most overtime. They had been sealed off for government and military use only.
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