The Retreat #5: Crucible

by Stephen Knight

  “What if they’re infected?” Sommers asked.

  “They have wounded, guy,” Beach replied.

  “Question remains: what if they’re infected?” Sommers repeated.

  Beach thought about it for a moment. Dragging wounded all around the pine barrens wasn’t in anyone’s best interest, especially that of the wounded themselves. It made sense to request to send them in the short way.

  “Inveigle, send your wounded through the line. The rest of your team continues on the same path. Link up with Eyes at the phase line and continue to the rally point. Over.”

  “Desperado, Inveigle. Roger that. Look for six guns guarding ten wounded and six body bearers. Two of the wounded are walking. Over.”

  “Roger, Inveigle. We’ll keep eyes out.”

  “Pass the word to the fire teams,” Beach told Sommers. Sommers spoke into his MBITR, which was tuned to a different frequency. Through that, he could communicate directly with each fire team. After some chatter, Sommers shot Beach a thumbs-up.

  “Okay, the troops know to look for the wounded,” Sommers said. “We might have to detail some of the guys to escort them back to the rally point, depending on how badly they’re hurt.”

  Beach grunted. He wasn’t interested in depleting his force right before contact with the enemy, but he’d defer that until the injured made it to the line. If no one was critical, he could pass them off to Eyes.

  “Wizard, Desperado Six.”

  “Desperado, this is Wizard. Send it.” It was Walker on the other side. Beach filled him in on the change in plan. Walker wasn’t happy that almost half of Inveigle’s combat force was peeling off from the main element, but he understood the wounded needed priority handling, and that the movement was already underway. Inveigle was leading the klowns off on a wild goose chase now, so it really didn’t matter how many guns they had available. Standing up and fighting it out was not their mission.

  Ten minutes later, word was passed that Inveigle’s wounded were passing through the line. There was no sign of pursuit, and judging from the firing going on downrange, Inveigle had masked the separation of the wounded and their escort with concentrated fires designed to keep the klowns focused on the main body. None of the wounded were infected, nor were any members of the security team. Beach was not surprised to discover that three of the wounded were actually dead, and among them was Captain Caruthers. That explained why Zhu was handling the radio traffic.

  Some minutes later, Zhu came on the radio net and reported that Inveigle was in full retrograde. He estimated it would take about ten to twenty minutes to link up with Eyes. Beach relayed the information to Wizard.

  Sommers stirred slightly, cocking his head as he adjusted his mask with one hand. One of his arms was still wrapped in Israeli bandages, and movement was difficult.

  “You hear that?” he asked.

  “Hear what?”

  Sommers pointed to the northeast. “Mortars? Maybe it’s just an echo, and Thunder’s opening up on targets?”

  Beach listened. It was difficult to discern, but after a moment he could definitely hear the hollow cracking noise of distant mortars in action. Nothing exploded near Desperado’s position, so they weren’t the target.

  “Wizard, this is Desperado. Over.”

  “Desperado, this is Wizard.”

  “Wizard, we hear mortar fire. Is Thunder engaging any enemy elements? Over.”

  “Desperado. Wait.” The line went silent save for some background static as Walker apparently sent out his request for information. He came back a few seconds later. “Desperado, I have eyes on Thunder. They are not firing at this time. Are you under attack? Over.”

  “Negative, Wizard—we are secure for the time being. Just reporting what we can hear from our side. Must be a mortar team in Stewart giving the klowns something to think about. Over.”

  “Roger, Desperado.”

  THIRTY-FOUR.

  Cassidy followed Muldoon and Roger as they led the rest of the team back to where Urena and the remainder of the Bushmasters were waiting. They still maintained control of the line of defensive positions, and while there had been intermittent contact, there had been no dedicated attacks against them. Urena indicated it was likely as safe as it ever would be to come out and rejoin the battalion. Just a few feet behind him came his RTO then Rawlings and Campbell, who held the trussed and armored Moreau between them. Following in trail were Boats and Nutter. As they left the ASP, the M1 tanks under the camo netting were coming to life, their gas turbine engines spooling up. Artillerymen were reloading the big guns and more shells were being transferred to the armored trucks that kept the cannons and the breech creatures that fed them fat and happy. Colonel Barker wasn’t going to depend on his own artillery to take out the approaching M109 Paladins—he was finally uncaging the heavy armor, as an insurance policy.

  All that made Cassidy want to run like a motherfucker all the way back to the rally point. He’d felt fine in the ASP, but now that he and the others were out in the open, they were extremely vulnerable to indirect fires. They weren’t all that far away from Lee and the rally point, exactly, but they would have to spend some more time in the field waiting for the maneuver elements to close up on them so they could continue their retreat. With the objective in hand, Cassidy didn’t want to delay a single thing. But falling back to the rally point without protection in force wasn’t wise; all it would take was for one lucky klown patrol to come across them, and they’d lose everything.

  Just the same, standing around acting calm when the steel rain threatened to come down right on their heads was asking a bit much.

  “Sir, did Barker give you an idea how long it’ll take for the Paladins to get in range?” Muldoon asked over his shoulder as he followed Roger.

  “He said about two hours,” Cassidy said as the unit wended its way around defensive revetments that had fallen, been retaken, fallen again, and retaken once more. They were all in MOPP, so the stink of the dead wasn’t as oppressive as it might have been, but it was still unsettling to traipse among decaying corpses that had been left to rot in the Georgia heat. “They were still in transit when he showed me the intel, but that could have been an hour or so ago.”

  “Y’all will be rolling out on rubber wheels in an hour,” Roger said. “Besides, the crazies, they probably don’t even know you’re here. You move fast, they might not even know the girl’s been taken off post.”

  “That’s the plan,” Cassidy said. “Roger, you’re free to come with us if you want. I understand that’s desertion, but if there’s a chance you and your guys might get wiped out in whatever’s heading your way, I don’t think anyone’s going to hold anything against you. Suicide isn’t part of the warrior ethic unless it serves its purpose.”

  “Appreciate the offer, Lieutenant, but no thanks,” Roger said. “Much as I’d love to un-ass, I never really did like Florida all that much.”

  “Gotta be better than throwing down with the klowns, my brother,” Muldoon said.

  “Ain’t leavin’ my people behind, guys,” Roger said. “If we’re all not leaving, then no one is leaving.”

  “I’ll leave the offer on the table, Roger,” Cassidy said. “We can use you, we need troops like yourself.”

  “Thank you, sir...but no thank you.”

  In the distance, several pops sounded. The hairs on the back of Cassidy’s neck stood up beneath the MOPP overgarment. He knew what mortar fire sounded like, and he was still aware enough to understand that Thunder wasn’t firing—they were in the opposite direction.

  Dull explosions thudded all around them. The lightfighters and Roger all ducked, hurling themselves behind a line of HESCO containers as dust and white smoke exploded into the air. Cassidy turned to make sure Rawlings and Campbell did their bit, and nodded to himself when he saw both women had a hold of Moreau and had yanked her down to safety.

  “It’s just smokers! They’re marking for fire!” Boats shouted. The white smoke drifted over him and N
utter as they struggled to their feet. “We need to get out of here,” Boats said, and his voice was suddenly calm.

  Cassidy motioned Rawlings and Campbell to get Moreau on her feet. “Okay, let’s move! Muldoon, Roger, get them out of here right now!” To Boats and Nutter as they rose up from the smoke: “Guys, form up!”

  The white smoke dissipated quickly—far too quickly, he thought. It seemed heavier than it should have been, falling to the ground in curling tendrils where it effectively disappeared. It was more like a mist than smoke—

  “I told you you’d get to see it,” Moreau said behind her mask and facial armor as Rawlings and Campbell dragged her past him.

  “What?” Cassidy asked. “What did you tell me I’d see?” Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. He spun back to face Boats and Nutter. They were shaking a bit as they hunched over, and over the crack of small-arms fire and pop of more mortar rounds being launched, he heard the first waves of laughter strike them.

  “Klowns!” he shouted. He raised his rifle as Nutter darted forward then and plunged his bayonet into Cassidy’s gut, right below his chest protector.

  THIRTY-FIVE.

  Lee took a quick circuit around the assembly area, ensuring the wounded were being tended to and the defenses were manned. Smoke wafted all across the field now, and that was going to be a problem. Klowns could use the obscurant as cover and infiltrate their position, and that was worrisome. The remaining lightfighters had enough on their plate to deal with; adding another attack to the mix would tip them over the edge.

  The vehicles were mostly fine and ready to go. Some had taken damage, but they were still operational and could be counted on to at least get them out of the engagement area. Lee ensured every vehicle’s crew-served weapon was manned. The klowns would come after the transportation, if they were smart; Lee intended to deny them as many targets as possible. He conferred with the commander of the mortar team. So far, they had sat out the fight while waiting to cover Desperado’s and Inveigle’s retreats. The lieutenant in charge of the section assured him that they’d be able to pound out rounds up until the order came to break down and move out.

  He ordered Walker and the rest of the operations center team to return to the TOC and resume their duty stations. They had to continue to manage the remainder of the operations in the field, and the TOC was the best place to do it. There they could view the imagery from the Merlin before it broke station and either returned to Florida for servicing or was rolled onto another mission. Lee wanted to know what the new lay of the land was, so he had a practical idea of how to plot their final retreat down to Reynolds and his command. He had no doubt there was more combat in the battalion’s future, especially as they tried to transition across the forward lines leading into Florida.

  Cassidy and Eyes had the objective in hand. Inveigle had been successful in luring a good portion of the klown occupation force away, providing Eyes with a clear path of retreat. Desperado was lined up in a blocking position, ready to screen the retreat as Inveigle fell back. And they had artillery support from Stewart in addition to their own mortar team. This was where the pause sequence began, as the three units lined up and fell back in a synchronized dance. Lee wished it could happen faster; but if Eyes left before consolidating with Inveigle, both units would be vulnerable if they fell under dedicated attack. Most of the heavy weapons were with Desperado, which included two Humvees with Mk19 grenade launchers and two with GAU-19 fifty-caliber Gatling guns. Without Desperado keeping the back door closed, Eyes and Inveigle were relatively easy pickings for the numerically superior klowns.

  Lee finally returned to the TOC. Walker was already situated inside, along with two operators. Lee looked at the station where Turner would have sat, and he found himself suddenly missing the older man’s vast experience. While he knew his instincts were good and he had no shortage of experience in military matters, men like Turner were walking encyclopaedias of knowledge. They’d seen everything, done everything, and felt everything that Lee still had to experience.

  “Walker, what’s our status? Have you gotten pulses from Eyes, Inveigle, and Desperado?”

  “Yes, sir. Inveigle is still pulling back. Inveigle has passed their phase line and is advancing to meet up with Eyes as they exit Stewart. Desperado is secure, but they do report mortar activity from somewhere south. Probably a klown unit trying to get some payback for all the arty attacks coming from Stewart.”

  “Contact Raptor, see if they’re attracting anything unusual.”

  “Already did, sir. They have a bit of a situation—klowns are moving Paladins into a fighting position somewhere to the north. Raptor says we should get clear within the hour—otherwise we’ll run the risk of coming under indirect fire attack.”

  That surprised Lee. “Are you sure about that?”

  Walker pointed to the main display to Lee’s left. It had been set up in a split-screen format, and he could see the footage of the M109s in the klown convoy rolling toward Stewart. “That’s dated footage now, but it was picked up by the Merlin, sir. Paladins are on trucks. They can be fired from the trailers, but they’d be much more stable and mobile if they’re offloaded before beginning their attack. If they stay on the trailers, Raptor would be able to kill them all at once—they’d have to stick with the semis, which means they’d need to stay on the roads. The Paladins can go overland if they’re offloaded, which would increase their survivability. Can’t be guaranteed the klowns are going to be dumb enough to leave them on the trailers, sir.”

  “Understood. Reach out to Cassidy and Caruthers—see if they can expedite their timetables. I’d like them to speed up their retreat.”

  “Caruthers is dead, sir. First Sergeant Zhu is acting commander of Inveigle at the moment,” Walker said.

  Lee sighed and rubbed his forehead. He caught a whiff of his body odor, and for a moment he wished he could slip on his mask once again. He was down another company grade officer, a man who until a short time ago had been his peer and colleague. Caruthers wasn’t the hardest charger, like Hallelujah Hayes had been, or the strongest personality, like Marsh. But he had been competent, and competence was in short supply.

  “So we’ve lost Turner for the moment, and Caruthers forever,” he said, more to himself than Walker. “Boy. This is total bag of dicks.”

  Walker said nothing.

  “Get on the radio, Major. See if we can move things up a bit given these developments.” Lee nodded toward the display. “Then get back with Raptor. Ask about the mortar attacks. If they have a position, we might be able to take the heat off them for a bit while they try and reconfigure their batteries for a real artillery fight.”

  THIRTY-SIX.

  “Duke!”

  Muldoon spun when he heard the shock in Rawlings’s voice. He saw Cassidy and Nutter struggling as a white mist settled across the line of HESCOs, disappearing from view as it touched the ground. The RTO turned and darted back, reaching toward Nutter. Boats stood shaking at the rear of the file, the mist settling past his shoulders. As Muldoon raised his rifle, Boats did the same. He shot the RTO in the face, then fired three rounds past Rawlings toward Muldoon. Muldoon juked to the right and swore as he lost his footing. He went down hard as Campbell shoved Moreau to the ground. Rawlings stepped back, raising her rifle. Boats was on her in a second as he slammed the butt of his weapon into her head before reversing it and firing two shots into Campbell’s chest. She cried out as she was flung back.

  Rawlings fired a shot that missed Boats by a mile as she went down. The old NCO leaped over her and thundered toward Muldoon. Muldoon raised his rifle and fired twice right into Boats’s center mass. Boats roared with laughter as the rounds slammed into the metal plating of his chest protector. They didn’t slow him one bit.

  He crashed headlong into Muldoon, knocking his rifle away with one hand while tearing at Muldoon’s mask with the other. Muldoon fired again, blasting a hole through one of Boats’s thighs. Boats laughed even harder and began pummeling Mul
doon with his fists, slamming them into his mask again and again and again.

  “I didn’t think killin’ you would be this much fun, Muldoon!”

  Boats’s mask half popped off his face as a bullet tore through the back of his skull and exited just above his nose. Muldoon twisted with a cry and hurled the old NCO off him. Boats crashed to the ground and lay still, a thin drool of blood leaking out from beneath his mask. He fired two more shots into Boats before pushing himself to his feet. Rawlings had iced Boats from behind. Together, he and Rawlings advanced toward Nutter and Cassidy as they grappled with each other. Blood was pouring across the lieutenant’s crotch, and Muldoon saw Nutter had gored him with his bayonet.

  “Nutter!” he shouted. “Knock that shit off, Colonel!”

  “It’s too much fun!” Nutter tittered. He then pulled the trigger on his weapon, firing several shots into Cassidy. The lieutenant fell away, and Nutter raised his weapon toward Muldoon. Muldoon and Rawlings fired at the same time, and Nutter twitched and danced as seven bullets slashed through him. He collapsed against the HESCO and slowly slid to the ground. His head lolled forward, and he toppled over onto his face. Muldoon walked up to the soldier and kicked him savagely in the side. Nutter did not stir.

  Muldoon gave him a crotch salute. “Pass in review, Colonel.”

  “Muldoon, get Moreau out of here.” Cassidy’s voice was tight and high pitched. Muldoon turned toward him as Rawlings advanced. She kept her rifle trained on the lieutenant, and she looked at Muldoon quickly.

  “Be careful,” she snapped. “He could be infected.”