The War for Profit Series Omnibus

by Gideon Fleisher

  The tank turned right, hugging the side of the hill. Two machine guns now fired from the dark slits of the concrete bunker, rounds deflecting, tracer rounds sent off in all directions.

  “Gunner, target to the front. A bunker.”

  The gun fired. Forty kilograms of scrap metal hit the front of the bunker, much of it embedded in the concrete, left deep holes. The bunker was silent. Enough scrap metal had entered its narrow slits to silence the defenders inside.

  “Turret to the rear.” The gunner turned the turret to the rear. Pescador popped his hatch and turned his cupola to face the bunker. “Forward, driver. Smash into it.”

  The driver accelerated to 40 kph and hit the face of the bunker and it burst to pieces. He backed up and the roof of the bunker collapsed. He backed up another twenty meters and Pescador fired into it with his cupola’s 40 mm flak gun for a full five seconds. Then he called to his troops, “All clear, move out.”

  Eighteen klicks later they arrived at the base of the hill Pescador wanted to use as his firing point. They went to the right around its base to put the hill between them and Batista City. They stopped and the ammo trucks loaded two pallets of 175 mm rounds onto the back deck of each tank and strapped it down. The hill was too steep for the IFVs or the light tank to climb, so Pescador left them there to protect the ammo trucks. He also had two dismounts hold on to the outside of each Ajax, to assist with handing the 175 mm rounds into the turret for the loader. But that would come later. The autoloader racks were full of 200 mm rounds.

  The Ajax set their front lifters at 50% and drove in column up the side of the hill, a 70% slope. Near the top, Pescador put them on line and they parked. He dismounted and with the assistance of his two dismounts he checked the top of the hill. He then went to his tank’s tool box and pulled out a jackhammer and a long power cord. He connected the hammer to the tank’s power and made his way back up to the top of the hill. He took a long look at the city below, seventy two kilometers away. The hill was just tall enough to give him shots over the wall of the city, the strong points at the three nearest corners of the hexagonal wall.

  He looked at the obstructions on the hill top and set to the task of drilling blast holes at the base of four of the largest boulders. He put away the jack hammer and came back with sticks of TNT and detonation cord. He put detonation cord around the base of the larger trees, sticks of explosive into the holes at the base of the boulders, ran a ring main and attached the cords with butterfly clips, the same sort used as office supplies to hold stacks of paper together. He double checked every connection, had another tank commander come foreword and double-check everything. Finally he added a ten centimeter length of time fuse and put a remote controlled igniter on it, secured a twenty centimeter long time fuse with a manual igniter on it, just in case, and then climbed back in his tank and called up to Tribunus Tribula.

  “Legion Six, this is Redleg Six. I’m in position, ready to fire.”

  “Roger. I need rounds on target in eighteen minutes, exactly.”

  Pescador said, “Eighteen minutes exactly, on the minute.”

  “On the minute. Legion Six out.”

  Pescador stood in his cupola and looked around. He was just far enough away from the city that its projectile artillery couldn’t hit him and just barely low enough to be below the firing arc of their space guns. But their lasers, they could shoot back. He’d have to neutralize them first, and get that done before engaging the targets set as priority by Legion Six. He looked at his chronometer, looked left and yelled, “Fire in the Hole!” looked right and yelled, “Fire in the Hole!”

  Then he used his remote to set off the igniter, could see that the time fuse was burning, and sat down in his cupola and closed the hatch. The charges blew the obstructions off the top of the hill. The Ajax tanks pulled forward and used their 200 mm rounds to engaged eighteen laser cannons in rapid succession. Pescador popped his hatch and looked. His was the only tank hit by laser fire, a deep gash cut diagonal across the glacis plate. He’d have to get that fixed before entering a head to head battle, but for now it wasn’t a problem.

  The time came to execute the fire plan to support Legion Six. The dismounts handed 175 mm rounds to the loaders. The gunners neutralized enemy threats to the Legion’s maneuver, each in turn as they revealed their positions. Near the end, all of Batista’s air defense and indirect fire assets were destroyed. Pescador couldn’t complain. He still had nearly two thirds of his 200 mm ammo left in the autoloader racks. Supporting the Legion let him get rid of all ten pallets of that 175 mm trash.

  His Ajax tanks came down off the hill and rejoined the other vehicles and the group made its way south to link up with the main force.

  Chapter Twenty

  Munifex Stovall parked his battle car and dismounted and watched the Hercules heavy tanks pull forward. The enemy defensive weapons that outclassed them had been destroyed and the Hercules tanks were moving forward to close within twelve hundred meters of the walls of the city’s northwest corner to neutralize any smaller weapons or defenses that would present a threat to the Legion’s battle cars.

  The driver from first squad walked up to stand in front of Stovall and removed his helmet. Stovall took off his helmet as well and said, “Any advice?”

  “Sure. I saw by the way you was driving you’re a cherry. You ever done a jump before?”

  “No.” Stovall knew this was no time to lie.

  “Well that wall is eight meters on the outside but only two meters on the inside. So we’re jumping up and then setting down inside right away.”

  “I…”

  “I know.” The first squad’s driver raised his hands waist high, palms down, pointed to his left. “What you got to do is stay about a car’s length behind me to my side, and watch.” He adjusted his hands to illustrate the positions of the cars. “What you have to do is juice the blowers to raise you up. The forward momentum will carry you over the wall so don’t worry about horizontal thrust. Now, the front of the car will want to tilt down but you don’t want that. Once you’re on your way up, keep the juice full on your front blowers but ease back half way on the rear blowers. You got that so far?”

  Stovall nodded.

  “Now comes the tricky part.” The first squad driver flashed a smile, a mouth full of big, white teeth. “Setting down. You have to think ahead. About the time before you are above the wall, cut your blowers to idle. It’s hard to do, your mind wants to wait until you see over the wall but then it’s too late. You got to go to idle when the top of the wall is right at the top edge of your wind screen. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, let’s go over it until you can talk me through it so I know that you know.”

  They went over the procedure three times more and Stovall was sure he had it memorized. He was able to repeat it back flawlessly. Stovall got back in his driver’s seat and went over it in his mind, touching the controls as he did so.

  His squad leader said, “You know what you’re doing?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well don’t ask me about it, I don’t even know how to start the engine on this thing. I’m trusting you, man.”

  “I think we’ll be all right.”

  “Time to move out.”

  The battle cars lifted and began their charge toward the wall. Stovall’s squad leader said, “Just let your mind go blank and do what you have to do. Let it flow.”

  Stovall hung back and watched the car to his left. It thrust itself into the air, and Stovall followed, kept his nose up, saw the top of the wall and cut his blowers to idle. The battle car’s plenum skirt scraped the top of the wall a little but the car landed smoothly on the other side, came down half a car’s length back from the car on the left. Technically, it was a better jump. The squad leader assistant sprayed fire from the swivel-mounted machine gun and suppressed a bunker not more than a hundred meters inside the wall.

  Second team dismounted and went to the prone in front of the vehicle
. First team came out and Stovall dismounted to run behind them, charged fifty meters ahead and went to the prone along side them. Second team moved forward and one of their troops fired a 30 mm grenade at the bunker. First team high-crawled up to it, around its right side and watched their lanes of fire. Second team ran up and checked behind the bunker, blew its door and dragged out three bodies. All of Stovall’s Century was up on the wall at that time.

  The Centurion came over the wall in his command skimmer and dismounted and made his way over to the heavy weapons section of second platoon, directed them to set up their 85 mm mortar and move their heavy machine gun and two anti-armor guns forward, on-line with the squads. He then went to first platoon’s heavy weapons section and had them do the same.

  Stovall saw a message on his visor, “Bring your car forward.” He rolled onto his back and sat up and stood, ran back to his battle car and took his seat. The squad leader was forward but the squad leader assistant was still up on the gun. Stovall drove forward and stopped just behind his fire team. In the distance he saw explosions, friendly artillery taking out enemy weapons. A counterattack came, a single light tank with a platoon of infantry. The tank didn’t even get off one shot, blasted immediately by all four of the Century’s antitank guns. Their infantry didn’t do much better. Stovall guessed that maybe a dozen of them managed to flee. And from the weapons they carried, it was a useless attack. His body armor would deflect their rounds, their weapons designed to kill lightly-clothed civilians, not designed to defeat soldiers in powered body armor.

  A message appeared on his visor, “Bastard weapons for sale. Never fired, only dropped once!” Stovall ignored it, thought about sending back, “Not funny.” But this fight was over. Second team came back to the car and unloaded the sand bags that lined the floor and set about fortifying the position while first team kept watch over their fields of fire.

  The first squad driver came over and said, “That was pretty good, you have some natural talent. Remember to mention my name in your thank-you speech when they give you that driver of the year award.”

  Stovall smiled. “Shut up.”

  “No, really. That was some good driving.”

  “Well,” said Stovall, “Without your advice I would’ve run straight into the wall.”

  “Right into the wall!” the first squad driver laughed. “I’m calling you wall, that’s your nickname.”

  The first squad leader said, “Hey driver, you got time to flap your gums you got time to hump some sandbags. Get to work.”

  “Take it easy, Wall.” The First Squad driver left.

  The second squad leader said, “First team, watch you lanes. Second team, move some bags!”

  Stovall dismounted and unloaded sand bags from the floor of his battle car and helped finish setting up fighting positions. Box sat net to him in their improved fighting position and won a game of ‘rock, paper, scissors’ and took a nap while Stovall stayed alert.

  The north corner of Batista City’s wall was attacked and seized by another Century of Legion soldiers. Then a pause in the action of nearly an hour, then a third Century seized the northwest corner of the city’s hexagonal outer wall. Phase one of the operation was complete.

  Chapter Twenty One

  It was near sunset when the Ajax tanks and their escorts pulled up to the perimeter of the Brigade TOC. Ground guides led them to park inside the perimeter in a tight formation, the way they might have parked in a garrison motor pool. The crews were told to dismount and stand to the rear of Pescador’s tank.

  Colonel Raper stood in front of the group and said, “Gather round, ladies and gentlemen, bring it in.” He took off his helmet and the troops followed his example. “Front row, take a knee. You all just did an outstanding job. I love you guys, I mean that. The chuck wagon and the shower trailer are right behind me and they’re yours exclusively for the next hour. When I fall you out, get to it. Chief Pescador, I need to see you for a few minutes. Fall out!”

  The troops wandered toward the chuck wagon and Chief Pescador followed the Colonel into the extension of the S-3 track. Tad was inside and pointed at a fold-up chair and said, “Have a seat, Chief.”

  Pescador sat. Tad sat to his right front and Galen sat to his front left. Galen said, “Chief, I can’t thank you enough for the fire support you have provided all during this campaign.”

  “You’re welcome, sir. What’s this about?”

  Galen glanced at Tad. Tad said to Galen, “I said you can’t butter this guy up. He’s all business, all the time.”

  Pescador said, “Is there a problem?”

  Galen smiled and said, “Chief, I’ll just come right out and say it. I want to stand up in one of your tanks for the victory parade.”

  Pescador said, “No problem. You’re the commander.”

  Tad laughed. “Told you so.”

  Galen shot him a quick glance, a scowl.

  Tad said, “Sir.”

  Galen spoke to Pescador. “The final obstacle to our occupation of Batista City is the Blender Fortress. It overlooks the main gate of the city. It’s a sturdy reinforced concrete structure eight stories high, surrounded by a wall that contains parade and athletic fields and some smaller buildings. It’s their military academy.”

  Pescador said, “I saw it on the map, studied its structure and layout. I can reduce it to rubble in thirty minutes or less.”

  Galen shook his head. “It’s symbolic, historic. The Legion will storm it with six Centuries tonight. Once that is accomplished, operational control passes from the Legion back to me. I’ll send the Stallion battalion to breach the gate with follow-on support from the Mechanized Infantry battalion. Then I ride right into the middle of the city to their capitol building to accept the official surrender of their government.”

  Pescador said, “Counting our chickens before they hatch, sir?”

  “Yes I am. I want to use your platoon of Ajax tanks when I ride in. I want to stand up in the lead tank and you can stand up in the one right behind me. And the other three, we’ll let their assigned commanders stand up in them.”

  Pescador said, “Like I said before, sir, no problem. But I want the assigned commander of the lead tank to be there, down in the turret at the loader’s station. And if anything goes wrong, you drop down and let him run the cupola, and I take command of that fight, if anything goes wrong, sir.”

  Galen said, “Absolutely. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  The three stood and Galen shook Pescador’s hand. Pescador left the track extension and joined his troops in the chow line.

  ***

  Tribunus Tribula stood high in his command skimmer and peered over the wind screen at the outer wall of Blender Fortress, four hundred meters away. The soldiers of six Centuries were up against that wall, dismounted, using it for cover. Soon they would climb over that wall and charge the fortress on foot. Battle cars would just get in the way; they were behind Tribula’s skimmer in six rows of ten, parked.

  The heavy weapons sections went over first, climbing up the backs of the regular squads who stood as human ladders for the heavy weapons soldiers to climb up. They dropped inside and set up their machine guns and mortars and antitank guns and began firing at their assigned sectors of the fortress. There was some return fire from the windows and balconies but the Legion’s heavy weapons sections overwhelmed it. The regular squads climbed the wall and ran up to the foundation of the fortress.

  It was a gradual uphill run of four hundred meters. Some squads breached and cleared buildings along the way, a full three squads clearing the gymnasium. They waited for the heavy weapons sections to make their way forward in turn, each occupying an available structure. The antitank gun crews got up on the roof of the gym and were high enough to fire directly into the first and second floor windows of the fortresses.

  The soldiers that made it all the way to the base of the fortress had to deal with occasional grenades dropped from above, tossed blindly out the windows by defenders who would
not dare show them selves in the windows. Occasionally a mortar round was tossed out, not fired from a mortar but simply armed and tossed out a window in the general direction of the Legion soldiers.

  Legion mortar teams came forward and set up their 85 mm mortars and dropped in specialized rounds that sent grappling hooks to the roof of the fortress, a rope trailing behind. They tugged the ropes to ensure a solid hook and the regular squads began climbing, the task of hauling themselves up hand-over-hand made possible by the light powered armor they wore. But still, it took a certain amount of mental toughness.

  Defenders leaned out the windows to shoot at the climbers; some Legion soldiers fell. Heavy weapon section machine gunners shot back, killed defenders who dared lean out the windows. Regardless, one defender did manage to cut a climbing rope near the fourth floor. The Legion soldiers gained the roof and punched a hole in it and swarmed inside, took over the entire attic floor. Structurally it was an attic but had been outfitted as a grand ballroom, a dance floor in its center and a stage at one end. Legion troops occupied the several balconies and the stairwell at its entrance.

  Soldiers on the ground tied cases of explosives and heavier tools to the climbing ropes and the soldiers on the roof hauled them up. The troops in the ballroom opened cases and distributed the equipment. A soldier used a jackhammer to drill a hole in the floor, another soldier inserted a stick of explosive and they stood back. The charge went off and made a meter-wide hole in the floor. A platoon leader looked down, jumped down and his platoon followed him. They cleared the floor below and then traded gunfire at all four stairwells leading down. Another platoon dropped in and went to the common area day room of that floor and blasted a hole and dropped in to clear that next lower floor.

  The fortress commander gathered the two dozen soldiers he had left and sent them down into the basement, followed them, ordered them down into the storm drain system. They moved through the drainage tunnel and emerged in a causeway and dropped their weapons and body armor and hot-footed it for half a kilometer. They stopped and climbed out of the causeway and ran like scalded dogs to the main gate of Batista City and were let in through a pedestrian gate beside the main gate.