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RECCE (The Union Series Book 4)

Page 15

by Phillip Richards


  I watched the LSV’s charging toward the trenches in front of me, their cannons spraying the area indiscriminately. A burst of darts struck the opposite wall of our trench and I dropped my rifle quickly, uttering a string of angry curses.

  The Guard attempt to stop the fresh wave of LSV’s had been pathetic, and now the Loyalists were on the offensive. My mind spun as I tried to comprehend what was happening. Surely they had more than three smart missiles? They had an entire support company hidden somewhere on the hill … what the hell were they doing?

  ‘Mate, this is not cool,’ Puppy said from over my shoulder. He was stood beside me, having moved up from the rear of the section. ‘We need to do something or bug out.’

  Puppy was right. The Guard were in serious danger of scuppering the entire operation. If we didn’t help them, then we might as well run for our lives.

  I flicked onto the net. ‘One-Zero-Alpha, this is One-One-Charlie. I do not believe our Guard partners are able to fend off the assault. Request immediate air support.’

  There was a painfully long pause whilst Mr Barkley considered my request, but I already knew the outcome. For sake of our own survival, we couldn’t afford for the Guard to lose.

  Sure enough, my visor display flashed with menus as the platoon commander handed control of the saucers to me. I waved my free hand through the menus, directing the saucers to engage only vehicles within three hundred metres of my position, prioritising the southernmost vehicles first. It was a simple sequence of commands that guaranteed the saucers wouldn’t become confused and start attacking the Guard - they didn’t have any vehicles, after all.

  I waited anxiously for the saucers to arrive. Though incredibly quick, the robotic aircraft would have been waiting in a holding position far away from the battlefield, avoiding the risk of being shot down by a Loyalist missile.

  All three of the LSV’s had stopped close to the defending Guard, their cannons continuing to spray the area in front of them. Their rear ramps fell to the ground and Militiamen poured out of the back, easily identifiable in their light brown uniform. They quickly formed up into lines, ready to assault. I judged that they had no more than two or three bounds to make before they reached the Guard and broke back into the trenches.

  ‘Where the hell are those saucers?’ Puppy demanded.

  As if on cue, I heard the deafening roar of fresh cannon over my shoulder, and I felt a wave of relief as I looked over my shoulder for the saucers.

  My relief was short-lived. Instead of seeing a blur of metal flitting across the hill to strike at the LSV’s, I could only watch in disbelief as the automated guns of the Guard sprayed the skies with a million darts, chasing our saucers away as quickly as they had come.

  My jaw dropped. ‘What the …?’

  A bright red warning flashed urgently on my visor, confirming the unthinkable: FRIENDLY FIRE.

  ‘Fucking idiots!’ Puppy seethed, as realisation sunk in. ‘They’re shooting our own saucers!’

  ‘Shit!’ I cursed, punching the wall of the trench angrily. The Guard hadn’t properly updated the computer systems in their automated guns, and so they automatically identified our saucers as enemy aircraft; a robot was only as clever as the man that programmed it.

  The fire from the guns was relentless as they continued to track the saucers through the clouds, driving them away from their target.

  ‘So much for their support company.’ Puppy shook his head in dismay. ‘They’re shooting at the only thing we don’t want them to shoot at!’

  Undeterred by the arrival and sudden departure of the saucers, the freshly-dismounted Militia quickly swept toward the Guard trenches. As soon as the last soldier was clear of their wheels, the LSV’s reversed backward in a spray of wet mud, continuing their covering fire as they went. I knew that the three vehicles would now attempt to move around the flanks so that they could support the Militia advance, and possibly give protection to a second wave of vehicles.

  ‘One-Zero-Alpha.’ I struggled to contain my anger as I spoke over the net. ‘Our allies appear to have a malfunction with their anti-air assets. I am redirecting my air support to compensate.’

  ‘Roger, I saw that,’ Mr Barkley replied quickly. ‘Do what you need to do. I’m going to try to get a grip of their support company.’

  ‘He needs to,’ Puppy commented, having heard the message as well. ‘Those belters are gonna get us all killed!’

  I grunted in response and quickly entered a new set of commands into the menus on my visor, frantically waving my arms like an angry magician. To anybody who didn’t understand how our wizard kit worked, I must have looked like a raving lunatic.

  I instructed the saucers to attack again, but this time from the north. Keeping low to the ground, they could use the hill to provide them with a covered approach from the Guard’s automated guns. It was a gamble - for all I knew the Loyalists might have countless anti-aircraft weapons to the north - but at least the saucers could shoot back at the Loyalists.

  ‘Andy, look!’ Skelton shouted from behind me, just as I finished. He was holding his rifle up over the trench, watching the battle.

  I lifted my own rifle and my heart plummeted. As I had expected, the three surviving LSV’s were moving around the slope of the hill, keeping only their turrets visible as they encircled the trenches. They were making way for another four vehicles that were now storming toward the embattled Guard company.

  I cursed. The LSV’s were going to drop off even more Militia in exactly the same place, funnelling more manpower into the crack forming in the Guard’s defence. By the time the saucers managed to hook around to the north - if they even managed it at all - the Loyalists would already be flooding through the trenches.

  I remembered Mr Barkley’s words before he had launched my section into the trenches: This will be entry point through which we’ll drive the Guard like a wedge. We’ll crack this hill open like a nut!

  This time it was the Loyalists who were driving in the wedge, I realised, and we were the nut that was about to get cracked open.

  ‘What are we gonna do?’ Puppy asked, sensing the desperation of the situation.

  I turned back and realised that everyone was staring at me, waiting for me to make a decision. I suddenly felt very alone. The stakes were high, and I needed to make a call.

  Without breaking eye contact with my men, I made up my mind and flicked onto the platoon net. ‘One-Zero-Alpha, this is One-One-Charlie. I have another four LSV’s approaching on my position. I am going to intervene.’

  Several sets of eyes widened as the meaning of my words sunk in.

  I gave Mr Barkley a moment to respond. If he protested then I would be forced to stand down, but otherwise I was going for it. Acts like this were what made the dropship infantry second to none on the conventional battlefield. We followed orders, but we also had the courage to act on our own initiative.

  There was a hushed murmur amongst the section.

  ‘We’re going in,’ somebody hissed.

  ‘Is he fucking mental?’ a Welsh voice asked in bewilderment.

  Another trooper laughed. ‘Completely mental.’

  After a few tense moments, Mr Barkley finally replied, ‘One-Zero-Alpha, roger.’

  Green light.

  I turned back to the section. ‘Vehicle action! Prepare launchers!’

  In a flurry of activity, the four smart launchers carried in the section were detached from troopers’ daysacks by their comrades.

  Puppy returned to his fire team at the rear of the section, whilst I waded across the trench and removed Myers’ launcher for him.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said, as I handed him the weapon.

  I stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of animosity. ‘We’ve got to do this, mate.’

  He nodded slightly. ‘I know.’

  Each launcher was quickly checked over, its operator ensuring that the missile was correctly loaded and that everything was working as it should. Once they were satisfied, e
ach trooper grabbed the launcher by its carrying strap and slung it over his shoulder so that it was easy to access.

  ‘Follow on,’ I ordered, once everyone was ready, and I ran toward the battle.

  As we ran, the platoon commander sent a message over every section net, speaking to each trooper individually as he laid bare the severity of the situation: ‘I have received a message directly from EJOC expressing grave concern over this operation, and suggesting that we consider extracting southward to an emergency rendezvous somewhere in the marsh. I have turned down that suggestion - for now at least. Be under no illusion, this mission is important … at a strategic level.

  ‘If the Guard’s grip on Hill Kilo appears untenable, then I will call for extraction, but as yet I believe we have the ability to succeed. The main effort now lies with blocking the enemy counterattack to the north. All forward sections are to move up to assist One-One to achieve that block. One-Zero-Bravo will use One-Three to secure a route for extraction to the rear, should we fail. We will not fail.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ somebody exclaimed behind me.

  ‘This is mental,’ another trooper agreed. ‘We should be running for the hills!’

  ‘We’re already on a hill, you belter!’

  A couple of troopers laughed, and a grin spread across my face; troopers were experts at maintaining a sense of calm in the face of great adversity - by doing nothing more than acting like a bunch of children.

  The mood quickly turned serious, though, as we reached the frontline. The Guard company had already taken a battering. They were spread in a long, ragged line fifty metres short of the hillside, fighting a pitched battle against the Loyalist Militia already inside the trenches, whilst taking cover from the LSV’s.

  Many of the trenches had collapsed inward, and other sections had been blown open into craters by the missiles that had struck during the initial attack. Injured Guardsmen writhed and wailed in agony across the battlefield, and commanders shouted frantic orders to rally the survivors against the second wave of vehicles.

  I kept my rifle raised to fire, acutely aware of the gunfire around me. The Loyalists were close, but hopefully the Guard could handle them for now. It was the LSV’s I was interested in.

  As we splashed through the ruined trenches we passed a single solitary Guardsman, curled up with his back to the wall. He sounded like he was having a panic attack, but none of us stopped to soothe or help him … this was not a time for acts of humanity.

  Electric motors whined loudly as the approaching LSV’s found their way through the northern edge of trench system, rolling over collapsed trenches to get as close as they could to the Loyalists who were already fighting.

  We came across a group of Guardsmen taking cover against the edge of a crater, keeping their heads low so that the approaching vehicles couldn’t see them. One of them was tending to the wounds of a stricken comrade, trying to stem the flow of blood from his abdomen with wet, muddy hands. It was a futile gesture, and they both knew it. They were both crying.

  I waved my section to stay where they were, and crept up the side of the crater, ignoring the plight of the dying Guardsman. Several of them saw me, but rather than simply glaring at me, they promptly indicated toward the vehicles - not that I needed to know where they were, I could hear them loudly enough.

  The front two LSV’s in the formation were both to my left, with the remaining two hidden somewhere to the rear. Of the two vehicles, the furthest away was barely visible, but the closest was in clear view, no more than twenty metres away, facing an unseen target. Militiamen were pouring from its rear door, forming-up ready to attack virtually unopposed. Its turret turned left and right as it sprayed the trenches in front of it, denying the Guard any chance to fight back.

  I looked back, holding up my fingers. ‘Two missiles!’

  Myers and Griffiths obeyed, doubling forward and throwing the launchers onto their shoulders. They took care to avoid the injured Guardsman as they hurried up the slope, and the remaining Guardsmen saw what was happening and quickly scrambled out of the way. We didn’t have much time before the LSV moved again.

  I indicated the direction of the LSV: ‘Vehicle! Twenty metres!’

  The two troopers nodded, repeating the instructions to their launchers. Without even having seen the target, the weapons beeped to indicate that they understood what was expected of them. The beauty of a smart missile being “smart”, was that it could be made to do practically anything so long as its target was correctly explained.

  ‘Prepare to fire,’ I ordered, keeping clear of the launchers. I quickly checked over my shoulder and waved for everyone to stay out of the way. The resulting back-blast of a launching missile could fry our equipment, and seriously injure an unprotected man.

  Safeties were disengaged, and fingers poised over fire buttons. The two troopers aimed their launchers slightly away from each other, so that the emerging missiles wouldn’t be too close together.

  ‘Fire!’

  The two missiles exploded out of their launchers in a belch of flame and smoke, their main rockets igniting just as they cleared the top of the crater and screaming as they turned sharply toward their spotted target.

  The LSV had only milliseconds to respond. Its turret spun around to engage the new threat, spraying the air with darts and ripping chunks of earth from the ground in front of our crater.

  Miraculously, neither of the two missiles was hit. Somehow dodging the hail of magnetised steel, they hugged the ground on their approach and detonated against the underside of the vehicle. In less than the blink of an eye, each missile drove a slug of molten metal into the LSV, cutting through its armour like a hot knife through butter. Following the slug was a second component to the missile, packed with explosives designed to explode once it reached the interior. The result was little more than a flash and a puff of smoke on the outside, but on the inside there was total devastation.

  There was no time to celebrate. I quickly climbed the last metre to the top of the trench and angled my rifle toward the assaulting Militiamen.

  Stunned by the destruction of their LSV, the dismounted Militia were all lying on the ground in the open, their attack having paused momentarily. A few of them were firing, but many of them were simply staring at the smouldering vehicle in surprise. One of them was shouting orders and waving his arms frantically at the others - presumably their section commander trying to get his men to keep moving; he knew that they were committed to the attack, whatever happened to their fire support, and that to falter now was potential suicide.

  He was too late. As I fired my first guided grenade at the nearest group of Militia, the remainder of my section and the Guardsmen rose from the crater and unleashed hell upon them in one sudden, devastating barrage.

  Several of the lying Militiamen jerked as darts punched through flesh and grenades detonated amongst them. Others scrabbled desperately into whatever cover they could find, using folds in the earth to try survive the onslaught.

  ‘Have it!’ Skelton cried, as he peppered the ground in front of the cowering Militiamen, catching one of them on the shoulder with a flash of crimson and a scream of agony.

  Suddenly the ground around the crater erupted as the two rear LSV’s emerged, cannon blazing, as they came to the aid of the stricken vehicle. The wall of steel created a noise so loud that it threatened to pop my eardrums, despite my headset, and two of the Guardsmen were snatched backward while the rest of us dove for cover.

  ‘Shit!’ somebody cursed, as we slid back down into the crater.

  Something exploded in the air behind us, causing us all to dive into the water below. Warnings flashed as my visor was briefly submerged, and I quickly pushed myself up, looking at the chaos around me.

  I didn’t know if we had taken any casualties of our own. The bottom of the crater was crowded with troopers and Guardsmen, all torn between the urge to run and the urge to wait for instructions.

  The explosion had been that of a smart mis
sile - perhaps more than one - detonating mid-flight. Maybe the Guard’s automated guns had been moved forward so that they could provide us with protection from enemy missiles, but either way we were in trouble. Darts continued to strike the lip of the crater, occasionally punching through the earth and striking the ground around us. The LSV’s were almost certainly going to attack our position, using their cannon to keep our heads down whilst they made their approach.

  There were times when you stood and fought, and there were times when you ran; this was a time to run.

  ‘Back where you came!’ I shouted, gesturing wildly with my hands as I picked myself up from the muddy water. ‘Go! Go!’

  Sensing the urgency in my voice, everyone, including the surviving Guardsmen, hurried back into the connecting trench. Puppy took up the lead, making sure that everyone went the right way, whilst I stood at the trench opening, propelling each man after him.

  ‘Move!’ I shouted, pushing my men toward the relative safety of the trench as the earth around me churned.

  I had expected to see my visor flashing with a casualty alert, but was surprised to find that everyone was OK.

  The same couldn’t be said for the two unfortunate Guardsmen. One of them was twitching, bleeding profusely from a gaping wound in his chest, and the other lay face down in the mud, his ruined head barely attached by a single flap of skin that had once been his neck. The Guardsman who had been bleeding from his stomach appeared to have died, but his comrade remained curled up in a ball beside him, rocking and wailing.

  ‘Come on!’ I yelled at him, as the last trooper passed me.

  The Guardsman didn’t respond, continuing to rock in the mud as the battle around him raged. He was consumed by the loss of his friend, so much so that he was no longer even aware of what was happening around him.

  Ordinarily I might have run and grabbed him, but there was no time - I had seven troopers who needed me. I turned my back on him and left him to die.

 

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