by Gary Beller
“1 Bravo Actual, this is Grinder 6, make a hole for the armor and follow us.”
The armored units were moving forward now, and the Infantry moved out of the way to let them through. Once in front of Westover’s troops, they fanned out to provide some protection from small arms fire. Westover jumped up on top of one of the tanks, and waved his Marines forward.
“Phantom Six, sixty meters south!”
Ben ordered the adjustments and fired again. “Eventually someone’s gonna catch on here, guys!” Ben said over his Comm.
“Quit bitching and keep shooting!” Westover ordered.
“Yes Sir.” Ben said, sighing.
“So is this how we will spend the whole day?” Ashlie asked.
“Could be worse.” Ben said. “We could be Banor.”
***
Praxis was monitoring developments from the beach. He was aware that 1SMU had commandeered an enemy artillery piece and was making a general nuisance of themselves, and 1st Brigade from 1st Division was preparing for a breakout. “Isabelle, get your division moving already, Allie, get the rest of 1st Division over that wall!” He said into his comm, ordering his division commanders to get a move on.
“2nd Division is pinned down, Sir. We need fire support.” Isabelle reported.
“Your armor isn’t helping any?” Praxis replied.
“Negative, sir, these fortifications are too strong for tanks to take out.”
“Call it into the fleet.” Praxis ordered.
At her command post, Major General Isabelle Hale passed the word to her Naval Gunfire Coordinator to call it in. “Heavy Hitter, this is Anglo 2 Delta, request fire support on enemy fortifications one five zero meters from main line center, extending two kilometers north and south of center. Fire when ready,”
***
Above, the UCSS New Jersey received the orders from the coordinator, and slid into position. “2 Delta, Firing orders received.” The New Jersey’s Captain gave the order, and the ship’s guns came to life, raining particle beams down on the enemy wall. Each of the ship’s eighteen sixteen inch guns fired at a rate of four times per minute down on the enemy troops.
Praxis, from his command post on the beach, was quite impressed with the display. The heavy particle weapons’ distinctive thundering noise coming through the atmosphere was impressive enough, but the results the weapons had were even more so. Explosions tore apart the ramparts, and turned pillboxes and towers that had deflected the particle cannons from 2nd Divisions’ tanks into dust. “Heavy Hitter, 2 Delta Actual,” Hale said into her Comm, “Mission complete. Great shooting.”
“Any time 2 Delta.”
Hale now turned to the task at hand. “Alright, 2nd Division, push forward!” She ordered. Her leading units, composed of the 2nd, 4th, and 8th Marine Regiments rushed forward.
Allie Grant, in her command post behind Tom Westover’s line, saw that 2nd Division was making a push towards the now decimated defenses in front of their lines. “3rd Brigade, move that armor forward. 1st and 2nd Brigades, stay in tight with them and get ready to storm the ramparts.” She ordered.
“Press on, Marines!” Tom urged. He was holding onto the bustle rack at the rear of a tank’s turret, shouting orders to his Marines. The turret began moving to track a target, and that was Westover’s cue it was time to dismount, before being thrown off. The tank fired its coaxial light particle cannon, filling the works ahead with energy beams as it traversed from right to left.
“Phantom Six,” Tom said into his comm, “Any chance you guys can drop a few more rounds on the backside of this wall for us?”
“Negative,” Ben said. He and the rest of 1SMU were abandoning the artillery piece as counterbattery fire came in on them. He was right; it didn’t take too long for the enemy to notice they had commandeered one of their own guns for use against them. “Sorry, the locals figured out what was up. Gonna have to do it the old fashioned way.”
“Thanks anyway, good work Phantoms.” Tom said. He then had his aide, who was following behind him looking exceedingly nervous, find a demolitions team. The Demolitions team leader came up and asked for orders.
“Make us some holes in this fucking wall.” Westover said.
“Aye, sir.” The Captain said. He and his Marines pushed forward, with 1st Brigade’s infantry and 3rd Brigade’s armor providing covering fire, as they placed charges to blow holes in the wall. One man didn’t set his fuse properly, and only got two steps away from his charge before it blew. He didn’t envy the crew of the light armored vehicle he was running towards, who would have to clean the gore of the front of their ride later.
The charges blew, but the wall held.
“Sonuva….” Westover said, turning to his Naval Gunfire Liaison officer, “Better get those big guns on this one.”
Lieutenant Commander Jason Glenn made the radio call, and high above the New Jersey and the Chancellorsville came about and targeted the wall in front of the 1st Division. In similarly spectacular fashion, the wall crumbled before them.
“7 Mike Actual, push your troops through and secure it, everyone else will be right behind you.” Tom ordered into his comm.
“7 Mike Actual acknowledges” Came Colonel Williams’ voice. He sounded firm, but there was a moment’s pause that told Tom his friend was having just about enough of this day. “Press on, 7 Mike Actual.” Tom said, moving forward. “5 Mike Actual, 1 Bravo Actual.”
“Go ahead, 1 Bravo Actual.”
“Move your troops in right behind Billy’s. Keep the pressure going on through that hole.”
“Roger. 5 Mike Actual out.”
The 7th Marines climbed over the remains of the wall and pushed forward. The enemy was falling back in disarray now along a line extending several miles, with lead units from both of Praxis’ divisions pushing forward off the beach.
CHAPTER 18
Once the enemy started abandoning its works above the beach, the breakout ensued in full force, although it could have ended there just as easily. The Banor attempted to move heavy armor and infantry units in to capitalize on a series of choke points that the breaches in their defensive wall had caused, but the special operations forces, both those of Ben’s task force and the new arrivals, quickly turned them back.
Expeditionary Corps Lima had provided the first three waves of coalition troops: Two waves of infantry and a wave of armored units. As the advanced units of 1st and 2nd Marine Divisions, along with the Valderan 5th Marine Division and the Kntarian 19th Assault Division pushed inland, follow on forces were able to land. Major General John Reynolds’ Expeditionary Corps Mike made landfall late in the afternoon, accompanied by the Artillery regiments of Praxis’ Corps. The Valderans landed their 23rd Armored Division of His Majesty’s Royal Army as their follow on force, while the Kntarian 21st Assault Division came down to reinforce the 19th. By sunset, a continuous front had been established five miles inland, stretching nearly a dozen miles in length.
The Narcanians, having linked up with the allied troops, brought the wounded from the various special operations units down to the beach. Wounded were loaded back onto landing craft and jumpers and taken to awaiting hospital ships. The dead were gathered on the beach, and organized as best they could be by unit. With night falling, the Special Troops Battalion from 1st Marine Division relieved the Special Missions Units for forward patrols, giving the Phantoms their first break in fighting in more than a day. Tom, for the first time that day, also came off the front line, and joined Ben and Danny at Praxis’ new command post, just five hundred yards behind the front.
“Colonel Pierce, your teams did excellent work.” Danny said, shaking Ben’s hand. “So, what’s the butcher’s bill for the day’s activities?”
“1st Brigade took seven hundred eighty killed, another hundred fifty or so wounded critically enough to come off the line.” Tom said. “We have roughly four thousand one hundred still available for duty.”
“Holy fuck.” Ben said.
“Thos
e numbers are about the average across our six brigades that were involved today.” Praxis said.
“Any idea how many of theirs we got?” Tom asked.
“Got my G2 working on it right now, but between Ben’s antics with that last gun and the Big J’s bombardment in front of 2nd Division, there aren’t many bodies left to count. But we estimate at least a three to one loss exchange ratio.”
“Damn you sound like a machine when you say that.” Isabelle Hale said, entering the CP. “Sir, 2nd Division is in place holding the line for the night.”
“Your artillery?” Praxis asked.
“I have my batteries set up with overlapping fire zones all along our front and flanks. We are butted up against the 9th Marine Division from Mike Corps to the south, and General Grant’s 1st Marine Division on the north. Observation Posts are out about fifty meters ahead of the main line, and Division Reconnaissance is making patrols to see if they can locate the enemy’s main concentration.”
Allie Grant arrived a moment later, and informed Praxis that her division was established in a position mirroring General Hale’s.
“Sir,” Ben said, “When we made landfall, we came across an enemy division encamped three miles from here. They came forward to reinforce the defenses here, but from what we could tell shadowing them last night they stopped to establish a bivouac about a mile and a half west of 1st Division’s current lines. It’s a full combined arms package, Infantry, Armor, and Artillery. It would be reasonable to assume that other enemy divisions are probably holding along a similar line.”
“It would be, yes.” Praxis said. “Alright, sunrise is 0648. 0430 I want everyone ready. We’ll push forward slowly and quietly. If we can get eyes on the enemy positions, I want to start hitting them with artillery and orbital fire support around 0545, see if we can’t force them back under heavy fire. If not, we’ll dislodge them at bayonet point.”
“Yes, Sir.” The officers said. Praxis dismissed them all, and went to coordinate with the Valderan and Kntarian commanders. Ben grabbed him for a moment.
“Sir, I doubt we have seen the full weight of the enemy’s forces here. The locals told us were over two hundred thousand of them here.”
“I know, Colonel.” Praxis said, sitting down for a moment, offering Ben a cup of coffee, which he took willingly. “A week isn’t much time, but the info you were able to get us kept us from being slaughtered on the beach. Rest your people tonight in the rear, we have jumpers coming in for support, so shit’s gonna get real busy for you guys in a hurry. Tomorrow afternoon I am setting you guys loose again, this time to find the enemy’s main base here.”
“Aye, Sir.” Ben said.
“And that was great work, getting the Narcanians in on the action.” Praxis said. “That’s an extra ten thousand or so troops with knowledge of the terrain. Did they even shoot at you once?”
“No. We bailed them out of a bad spot, and earned their trust, plus they have been housing the human survivors.”
“We will want to talk to them no doubt.” Praxis said.
“They have a hell of a story to tell, sir.” Ben said. “I am going to go check on my team.”
“Get some sleep, Ben.” Praxis said.
***
Ben’s team was set up atop one of the former Banor tower forts, overlooking the beach. Everyone had their bedrolls laid out, under the stars. Far above, through the clear night sky, the lights representing the dozens, if not hundreds, of ships in orbit stayed constant. Occasionally, the echo of thunder rumbled across the plains to the west of the beach, usually in accompaniment of a series of bright flashes from above. The ships above served as guardians from on high as exhausted Marines attempted to get some measure of rest before the next fight.
Ben sat down next to Ashlie. By now everyone in the team was aware of their relationship, even if they never publically showed it. “Hey. Listen up.” Ben said.
Everyone turned their eyes on him. “That was good work today. We made it through without taking any serious wounds or deaths, and that’s a hell of a feat, especially with how intense this fight was.”
“Casualties, sir?”
“Killed and wounded, probably going to clear ten thousand once the count is official. And there will be more fighting tomorrow. We’re back here until ordered otherwise. Get comfortable and rest easy.” Ben ordered
***
Any real rest was hard to come by during the night. Banor and Allied artillery batteries engaged in sporadic duels all across the front, while Navy and Marine strike fighters flew night strike sorties against enemy troop concentrations.
At the front, Captain Hussien of Alpha Company, the officer who had told General Westover to get behind his men, was taking stock of his Company’s situation. His Company, like most of those that made landfall with the first wave, took the brunt of the heavy fighting. A quarter of his Marines were killed or seriously wounded.
“Hell of a thing, First Sergeant.” He said to his senior non-commissioned officer, Wesley George. “How are we looking?”
“Bloodied us up pretty good,” First Sergeant George said, “But we’re ready for them again.”
“Could have been a lot worse.” Hussien said.
“Damned right it could have been, Captain.” A voice behind Hussien said. He and First Sergeant George turned to see Major General Allie Grant kneeling behind them. “Ready for a show?”
“Ma’am?” Hussien asked.
“One of those strike fighters reported a heavy enemy troop concentration 600 meters straight ahead of your company. Chancellorsville and New Jersey are moving into position to introduce themselves.” The General had a smile on her face that Hussien and George wouldn’t understand: High above the battlefield, on the bridge of the Chancellorsville, the General’s younger sister, Commander Ellie Grant was readying the ship for bombardment duty.
“Only wish we had some popcorn.” Allie said, sliding in next to Captain Hussien. She cued her Comm system and smiled. “Rappahannock, Heavy Hitter, this is 1 Delta Actual,” She looked up, seeing the two bright dots glowing in the sky representing the two warships, “Fire when ready.”
The Battleship and the Cruiser both adjusted their orbital orientation to bring as many weapons to bear in broadside as possible. Unlike on the beach, where only the New Jersey’s main battery guns would have been of any use, here the ships used both their main battery and secondary battery guns. The combined firepower of eighteen sixteen inch guns, twelve eight inch guns, and thirty five inch guns lit up the night, the thunderous echo rumbling across the battlefield. The explosions could be seen for miles.
Ben, leaning on the ramparts of the tower, could see the bombardment. The noise of the action woke several of the Operators from 1SMU. John stood next to Ben and watched. “Those Navy guys really put on a show, don’t they?”
“That they do. Just be glad you aren’t on the business end of that.” Ben switched on his comm and listened in. “That’s New Jersey and Chancellorsville firing.” Ben told John.
“Firepower for Freedom.” John said with a smile.
The rest of the night went quietly along the whole front. Precisely at 0545, all along the front lines the allied artillery batteries came to life. The bombardment lasted more than an hour, covering the Infantry and Armor as they moved quietly forward. As the sun splashed its light over the prairie, the ground troops had quietly advanced forward, only to find empty fighting positions and craters. By mid-morning, it had become clear that the Banor had fallen back somewhere into the woods.
Ben got his people up and moving around 0900, and they were surprised to find NMCB-133 building an airfield on the prairie. Ben stopped to talk to Commander Bones.
“How long have you guys been working on this?” Ben asked.
“We started just before midnight.” Bones said, “We got the landing zones done, working on the emergency runway now.” Bones said.
“Phantom Six, report to Lima CP.” Ben heard in his ear.
“Catc
h ya later, Mike.” Ben said, and made his way to Praxis’ command post. When he got there, Praxis was ready to brief his Division and Brigade commanders.
“So, here’s what we know so far.” Praxis said, “At some point during the night, the Banor pulled off the front lines, leaving their positions vacant. And we have no clue where they went.”
“Not like the Banor to just tuck tail and run.” Ben said. “So what’s the plan, Boss?”
“For right now, we are going to move forward, and sweep as far as we need to until we find them. The fleet guys upstairs are looking through their sensor logs to try and get us something to go on. Although it would be a safe bet to assume the enemy pulled back their forces to concentrate their troops, rather than allow us to defeat their divisions one at a time.”
“How do we want to proceed?” General Grant asked.
“I talked with my fellow Corps Commanders already, we are going to push ahead along present orientations, and the Valderan and Kntarian reserve divisions will move forward to fill the gaps that form when their troops move ahead. Once we get jumpers on the ground down here, I’ll have our Special Missions teams and Raiders doing forward reconnaissance. Navy and Marine fighters are doing armed reconnaissance flights over the countryside, looking for enemy troop concentrations. If we need to, we’ll airlift units in to assault those troops.”
“Aye sir.” Everyone said.
“If you make contact, report it in. If you need help, call in the reserves.”
Ben went back to his unit and reported what happened to the team. “Those nasty little fuckers,” Kate said, “Just when you think you have them figured out…”
“I know.” Ben said, sympathizing with her. “General Westover has asked that, until we have jumpers, we move ahead of his forces to act as forward reconnaissance. Sid, take your stick and go ahead of the 5th Marines, My stick will be leading the 7th.”
“Understood sir.” Sid said. “White team, let’s move out.” She ordered.