I scanned the windows of a four story building a couple of hundred meters up the street. I saw a movement in a third story window.
“I have movement,” I said, stating where I was looking.
The lieutenant knew who was calling because it would show on his command board. “Make sure it’s not a civilian, Walker,” he said.
I moved the magnification level of my scope to the 6x setting, its maximum of six times magnification.
When I reacquired the window, I could see nothing. I scanned left to the next window and saw a shape. It took me a moment to recognize what it was.
I fired.
“Sniper,” I said over the platoon net. The shape dropped from view.
An explosion of sound erupted from our side of the street, about one hundred and fifty meters away, coming from the upper stories. Small arms fire tore into the platoon across the street, a grenade fired by a launcher detonated against a wall above the platoon. Several soldiers went down while fragments from the grenade peppered our side, one of them digging into the wall over my head. Someone in 1st Squad yelled, “I’m hit.”
I could see movement on the roof of the building where the sniper had been positioned.
Apparently, PSG Vandoren did also. “We need cover, in the buildings, now!” he ordered. “Things are about to heat up.”
The platoon from 1st Battalion was disintegrating. A portion of them fled for the end of the street from where we started, some sought cover inside the building nearest them, dragging the wounded in as well. A handful of them ran to our side of the street. A good third of them were scattered dead or dying on the street and sidewalk.
We started taking fire as we pushed our way into the building, bullets striking the street and fascia of the structure. Lieutenant Parra was on the company net, informing them of our situation.
When the lieutenant was finished talking to command, we learned we would be on our own for a while. The battalion was fully engaged and it was not known when reinforcements might be coming.
“We have to go after them, LT,” PSG Vandoren said. “They’ll chew us if we try and fight it out from down here.”
“I agree,” the lieutenant said. “What do you have in mind?”
“I take second and third squads to the roof and see if we can cross over to the building the Pythans are holding, sir. If we can, we clear them out.”
“All right. Stay on the platoon net unless the chatter gets too confusing. If it does, go to a secondary frequency.”
Vandoren nodded. “Second and third squads, follow me.”
We climbed up the five stories worth of stairs and made our way across the roof and engaged the Pythans who were on the top of the four-story building across and up the street. We caught them unawares, a five-man element that never got a shot off toward us before they died.
The building next to us—the one we were going to clear—was a story shorter than the building we currently occupied. PSG Vandoren ordered us to pull over a skeletal box frame antenna on the roof. It became our means of spanning the gap between the next building and us.
Every half minute or so, an exchange of small arms fire would erupt between the buildings, then dwindle to a brief silence.
As Vandoren directed the placement of the impromptu bridge at the very rear of the building, Lieutenant Parra came over the platoon net and said he was sending a few riflemen to the upper floors to engage the Pythans. He felt they would have a better angle on the enemy.
PSG Vandoren ordered Porcello and I to cover the alley while everyone else moved to the roof of the other building. Once everyone else was across, Porcello went over, and then I followed.
We went for the closest access door and found it locked up tight. Private North, the machine gunner on Sergeant Parker’s team, made quick work of that with a couple of strikes from the butt of his weapon.
We made our way down the stairs and onto the top floor. It was an open bay filled with work cubicles and looked to take up half of the floor. There was no sign of the Pythans.
On the far side of the work area was access to a hallway where there was a bank of four elevators, and at each end of the hall were stairwells.
The battle sounded like it had become a drawn out firefight, with sporadic weapons fire interspersed with flurries of intense fire.
“It’s a stalemate,” SSG Vagrant said. “Let’s see if we can do something about that.”
“You think our guys are doing okay, sarge?” Sharkey asked, looking in the direction of the shooting.
Vagrant nodded. “If they weren’t we’d hear about it. LT knows how to run a platoon, and he knows not to tie up the net with useless traffic.”
2nd Squad cleared the other side of the top floor while those of us in 3rd Squad covered the elevators and stairway openings.
Once it was determined we had the floor to ourselves, PSG Vandoren contacted Lieutenant Parra and informed him of our situation. We learned the rest of the company was nearing the phase line where they were to hold. CPT Connolly said he’d send assistance to us as soon as possible.
“I’m not sure I want to wait,” Vandoren said. “The Pythans might decide to kick us out of their building before then. I’d rather be the one doing the evicting.”
“I trust your judgment, sergeant,” Parra replied. “If you think you have the numbers, proceed.”
“I got two squads of meat eaters, LT. It’s enough.”
Vandoren tasked 3rd Squad with moving down the eastern stairwell, while he went with 2nd Squad down the western side. He left a four-man team to cover the elevators under the command of Corporal Villar from SGT Parker’s team.
Team 2’s machine gunner, North, led the way, quietly moving down a flight of stairs to a landing that took us to the next floor down. North was moving to the doorway when a grenade flew into the stairwell.
I was on the landing next to SSG Vagrant. He yelled, “Grenade,” and pushed me toward the wall. I saw Sharkey on the lower flight of stairs turn and try to get clear of the blast.
A split second later, the grenade detonated.
Despite the hearing protection built into our helmets, it still made my ears ring. The stairwell was full of smoke and settling grit falling all around us.
I scrambled to the edge of the landing and covered the doorway with my rifle. Vagrant knelt next to me. Through the still swirling atmosphere, I could see two figures on the floor near the doorway. I expected to see Sharkey’s mangled body somewhere as well, but he was on the landing, none the worse for wear.
“Frag out,” yelled Vagrant just before he threw the device through the doorway.
I could hear shouts and Pythans scrambling outside the doorway. The grenade detonated, followed by screams of pain. Below us, Sharkey crawled next to North’s blast-torn body and took up the machine gun. He fired a long burst through the door opening and across the wall to the right, chewing through the wallboard.
Private Terry bounded over the stair railing, knelt next to Sharkey, and began firing his rifle to the left. Somewhat muffled by the distance and walls, we could hear 2nd Squad firing.
SSG Emery, 2nd Squad’s sergeant came over the platoon net.
“They’re pulling back. We are pursuing. Watch your fire in our direction,” he said.
“I don’t see anything on our side,” Sharkey said. “I think they pulled back over here too.”
SSG Vagrant moved down the stairs with me right behind him.
“Move forward,” he said. “Be careful.”
Sharkey stood and went through the door with the machine gun. I saw his rifle on the floor at the bottom of the stairs and picked it up, throwing the sling over my shoulder. As I went to the door, I saw North and Blaine, both very obviously dead.
Blaine was the first of our training company members that I knew was dead, but I was sure there must be others.
We moved into the hallway and there were four dead Pythans on the floor. I don’t know what killed them, and I didn’t care just then.<
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PSG Vandoren was at the other end of the hall.
“Emery’s clearing to your right,” he said quietly over the platoon net.
“Roger that,” replied Vagrant. “We’re going there,” he said pointing to our left at a blasted and broken door.
Terry led the way with Vagrant and I trailing. There was another dead Pythan inside the office, but that was all.
“All fire on our position has ceased,” Lieutenant Parra reported. “Our neighbors across the street report same.”
“I think the Pythans are pulling out and will head for another position, LT,” PSG Vandoren said. “We’ll finish clearing the building.”
Less than half an hour later we had confirmed the place was clear of Pythans. They had fled using fire escapes. Word came telling us to fortify our position and hold until further orders.
A pair of infantry companies passed by us on the street outside, accompanied by two LF17 light tanks, the first armor we’d seen since we landed. Armor can be a tremendous asset in urban fighting, but they must have infantry protection. Armor is quite vulnerable in the tight quarters of a city, so much so that operating without accompanying ground pounders is suicide.
As evening began to come on, we were settled in place. Just up the block, fighting still raged.
I was on the roof where my scope provided a means to scan nearby buildings for any enemy presence. The Pythan’s presence in the buildings became a secondary concern a few hours after dark. They had some tricks up their sleeves.
Units forward of us reported considerable Pythan forces attacking them from the rear. They eventually figured out that the Pythans were using the sewer system to maneuver through the city, a trick I guessed wasn’t a new one in the art of war.
Charlie Company was one of the many units sent to clear out the underground threat.
Because of casualties, Lieutenant Parra shuffled personnel around within the platoon. SGT Parker was needed to command a team in 1st Squad, while 3rd Squad was reduced to two four-man teams.
CPL Villar took over Team 2, with Privates Terry, Sharkey, and me as the team members.
Charlie Company was to hold numerous junctures in the sewer system while other units pushed toward the Pythan-held areas. We would move forward as needed.
We climbed down into the sewers via manholes, and Lieutenant Parra led the way dropping off teams when we reached specific intersections in the sewer.
The smell was not as bad as I thought it might be, but maybe I’d developed a resistance back during the field exercises.
We set up, covering to the west. There were some lights in the sewer system, but not at our position. That was actually to our advantage. Our night vision gave us an edge over the Pythans.
An hour after we took our position, we started getting reports on the operation. Units above ground were still pushing the Pythans to the north, while underground there had been some brief, but intense, fights involving the units pushing through the sewers. We thought we may have heard the distant rumblings from those fights, but they might have just as well have been from the surface.
1st Platoon from our company reported contact. They were about 250 meters from us. The sound of the fight began as a few isolated shots, then quickly escalated into a full blown firefight.
Within minutes, they called for reinforcements saying they were in danger of being overrun. Lieutenant Parra pulled SSG Vagrant’s team from their position to go to 1st Platoon’s aid and sent CPL Villar and PV2 Terry to cover Vagrant’s position, leaving Sharkey and I at ours.
The fight in 1st Platoon’s area continued. Reports said the Pythans were trying to storm the junctures with grenade attacks followed by infantry assault. In the close quarters of the sewer system, the Pythan 5mm assault weapon proved their effectiveness.
CPL Villar came on the Platoon net and said he could hear movement in the watery sewage to his west.
Moments later the sound of muffled explosions reverberated through the sewer passages. Villar and Terry were under attack. Small arms fire flared and then suddenly ceased.
“They’ve backed off,” Villar said.
I heard a clinking sound, then a splash just in front of our position. It took my brain a split second to determine what it was. A grenade!
I opened my mouth to yell a warning when I saw Sharkey moving to his left, taking cover behind the concrete wall. I shut my mouth and tucked in beside him as the grenade detonated.
I reported we were under attack as I leaned around the edge of the corner with my rifle, Sharkey doing the same with the machine gun he had kept after assuming it from Private North.
The passage curved to the right fifty meters away from us, and from around that curve came a band of Pythans. We fired first, Sharkey and I opening up simultaneously. Four or five of the men fell, the rest of them pulling back.
Villar came on the platoon net again and reported that Terry was down. He was unable to check his condition because he was engaging the Pythans.
“They’ll overrun me if this keeps up,” he said.
In my night vision I saw motion up the passage, arms throwing grenades.
Sharkey rolled to his left. I was kneeling just behind his feet and slid over as well, using the side of the sewer as cover. The grenades landed well short of us, the explosions sending waves of filthy water our way.
I slid out and brought my rifle to bear on the expected infantry attack. To my right I heard fire from Villar’s position.
Sharkey and I sent 7mm rounds down the passage, killing more Pythans, driving them back. The firing had ceased at Villar’s position as well.
“Cover me while I snap on another belt of ammo,” Sharkey said.
“Go ahead,” I answered, looking down the passage.
A few seconds later Sharkey said, “I’m good.”
A flare flew toward us from the right, from Villar’s direction, landing in the shallow water. It sunk with a hiss, but kept burning, the light it cast from the dirty water made an unreal glow. My night vision flashed and dimmed quickly as it adjusted to the conditions.
I turned that way and covered the passage with my rifle.
“They’re coming again!” Sharkey said.
Pythans flowed from the right, coming straight at us.
“From the right, Dan, Pythans,” I said as I fired at the new threat.
Sharkey fired long bursts, but I couldn’t look to see what was happening to my left. The Pythans I was engaging could see my muzzle blast and could probably see me because of the flare as well. Bullets streaked past on both sides of me, one plucking at the shirtsleeve on my left arm.
The Pythans pushed on, despite my fire. They were coming too fast and in too large a mass for me to stop them. They had stopped firing, and on the end of their weapons I could see the cold steel of bayonets.
The Pythan’s flare went out. That altered the equation in our favor slightly.
I shot the closest two Pythans through the head, shifted aim and fired into the next row. Part of my brain calculated the numbers. Fire rate, enemy numbers, rate of closure. The conclusion was that it was going to be too close to call.
The equation changed again when a new variable was introduced, the 7mm, belt-fed, LF23 machine gun in the hands of Dan Sharkey.
Some well placed bursts tore through the assault. I continued my work, and in a few seconds, there was near silence.
“I’m reloading,” I whispered.
I popped the magazine release and lifted the near empty device away, quickly snapping a new one in place into the upper portion of the stock.
I reported our situation to Parra, also telling him that Villar and Terry were likely dead.
“The rest of the platoon is fully engaged, Walker. Company command is aware of the situation and will send assistance as soon as possible. Hold on for as long as you can.”
“We’ll hold, sir,” I said.
I decided to move closer to the entry to the right. I fished a pair of Pythan assault weapon
s from the water and propped them against the wall nearby. The short and handy weapons might be needed if I didn’t have time to reload.
“They’re coming again, Hank,” Sharkey said a split second before he opened fire.
Moments later, another flare came from the right, but this one struck the top of the passage and fell well short of the intersection. On the heels of the flare came more Pythan soldiers. I fired, striving to make each shot count, an impossibility in combat, but a soldier must do their best.
This attack was less organized, less numerous, and it fell apart quickly, or so it seemed.
The last of the men from the failed attack had just rounded the corner in retreat when Sharkey called out, “Hank, I’m hit!”
I turned and saw him go limp and his face fall into the water. I dropped my nearly empty rifle, grabbed one of the Pythan weapons, and ran to the other opening. I fired a long burst as I came around the corner and saw a trio of enemy soldiers falling. Just then I heard the thoop of a grenade launcher firing from behind me, then a deafening explosion.
The blast drove me forward, almost on top of Sharkey’s inert form. When I gathered my wits, I looked and saw the grenade had exploded at the position from where I had been firing before Sharkey was hit.
The roof and wall had collapsed, blocking the passage.
I sat up and rolled Sharkey onto his back, propping him up against the wall.
I heard splashing coming from the west. Another attack.
I grabbed the machine gun and was moving to engage when I heard, thoop, and the world collapsed on top of me in a savage mass of noise.
I came to with masonry work on top of me. My helmet’s night vision was dead and I could see nothing but darkness. I heard noise over the high-pitched tone buzzing in my head from the explosion. A strange language.
So that’s what the Pythan tongue sounds like, I thought.
I felt for the machine gun. It was right beside me, weighted down with concrete in the sewer water. In the pitch-black, I scrambled to extricate the weapon.
Conflict: The Pythan War, Invasion Page 29