by Mark Rounds
It wasn't just the fact that they were being fired upon that upset all of the troops of the Condor Legion. That was a danger that could be lived with. It was the feeling of helplessness. Different troopers dealt with it in different ways. One young man sang religious hymns at the top of his lungs. This was in spite of the fact that he was a card-carrying atheist. Taol heard laughter and sobs. The thing that made Taol tremendously proud was the fact no one ran.
Taol could hear squad leaders and career NCO's shouting to each of the troopers, making them respond, and telling them, in a gruff, military way, that they were not alone.
The bombardment lasted about fifteen minutes or half a lifetime, depending on your frame of reference. The casualties were surprisingly light. A couple of troopers had the misfortune of being in a hole that received a direct hit. They were gone and would never return. Perhaps a dozen troopers were wounded to varying degrees from shrapnel. All of these troopers were still in their holes, weapons in hand and still ready and willing to fight the enemy.
The Krasni bombardment changed. They began using smoke rounds to obscure the hilltop.
"Jeffy, go to command frequency," said Taol.
"What's up Colonel?" he replied.
"Visibility is no good down there,” said Taol. “The enemy could maneuver to a flank and we would never know. I need to send an infantry carrier down the south side of the hill with a skeleton crew to be our eyes and ears. They would have a radio and orders not to engage. What do you think?"
"You're the boss," said Jeffy gruffly. "I'll handle it. Switching back to common."
"Hold on Sar Major," said Taol quickly before he changed frequencies. "You don't like that call, why?"
"I don't want to risk good troopers for limited information," said Jeffy. "The Krasni will spot that halftrack as sure as God made little green apples. They'll get potted in fifteen minutes flat. I'll send them, but I don't like it. You are overanxious, just like Sergeant Mason."
Taol was chagrinned but also aware enough to realize that Jeffy was exactly right. Still, he had to know what the Krasni were up to.
"How about this Sar Major," said Taol. "Let's send three troopers with the track. One trooper will remain in the vehicle to operate the radio. Another will observe the enemy. The third trooper will be a runner. That way, the track can be completely out of sight. There will only be hidden infantry up front. If they take care, no one will see them."
"That could work Colonel. I'll get the ball rolling," said a much happier Jeffy.
Taol put that lesson away for safe keeping. A lot of officers get fixated on the job. They failed to realize that sometimes the fastest way to complete the job is not the best for the troopers. Not only did commanders have to get the job done, but they had to decide what he and his men were willing to risk. Jeffy would probably have sent troopers off if Taol hadn't caught his displeasure. It would have affected trooper morale and perhaps cost the Legion the game. Taol was worried that he still had a lot to learn.
Taol’s reverie was broken by an air burst in the middle of the Legion’s area.
"What the hell kind of weapon could do that?" thought Taol frantically and then he calmed down and called Jeffy on the radio.
"How the heck are they managing to get an air burst in our perimeter?" asked Taol.
"I am not sure sir," said Jeffy. "It isn't too big a weapon, but the timing of the arc would have to be precise. The fact that nothing like this has been used in the game would mean that they were either extremely lucky to beat the spin and be right on target or damn good with whatever they were using, maybe both."
#
Igor could see the smoke rounds begin to impact on the hill. It was now or never. If he waited much longer, the cadets wouldn't be able to see that the grenades from Georgi's catapult were different from the shelling they were currently receiving. On the other hand, if he had begun too early they would figure out the crude nature of their device.
Igor gave Georgi the nod. The wounded trooper pulled the pin on the grenade he was holding and placed it in the cup they had fashioned from a used first aid pouch. He leaned back until his back touched the ground and the first aid pouch was on his chest. The strain of holding the saplings bent over was making even Georgi's high gravity muscles tremble. Then he let go.
The grenade sailed high and long and exploded in the air above the hilltop. "Damn it Sergeant, I am sorry," cried Georgi. "I didn't think the grenades would hang that long in the air. This thing is useless after all."
"Georgi, keep shooting!" shouted a jubilant Igor. "Nothing in the game so far has been able to manage air bursts! This will keep their heads down as long as we have grenades. You have most certainly earned us a job with this little gadget. Keep it up."
#
The air bursts were just one more aggravation. The blasts were small, and the Legion wasn't taking many casualties. Their big effect was on morale. It felt like they could hit you even in a foxhole. Suddenly, Taol heard Mishoda's voice over the command net.
"Colonel Ubner, I see them," she shouted excitedly.
"Hold on Sergeant," said Jeffy. "Try again, slower."
"Yes, Sar Major," said Mishoda and then she paused for a couple of seconds. "I can see where the air bursts are coming from, the air bursts."
"How far out, trooper?" queried a suddenly interested Jeffy.
"Just a couple of hundred meters Sar Major,” said Mishoda. “And here is the funny thing, I actually can see the rounds going up. I was watching the area from where the Refs grav sled took off when the air burst happened. I actually saw a round pop up through the brush and then just hang there for a couple of seconds and start down."
"Do you think it is a mortar, Jeffy?" said Taol interrupting.
“I don't think so, sir," said Jeffy.” The initial velocity of a mortar is pretty high. I don't think you could see the actual round. Besides, in a spinning habitat, a lobbed round like that might get high enough to get in the areas of lower Gee. It could carry right into the roof. The Refs wouldn't allow that.
"Besides," said Mason who was also on the radio, "a couple hundred meters is well inside the minimum range of any mortar I can think of except maybe a Japanese knee mortar."
The discussion was cut short by another air burst.
"It doesn't matter what the damn thing is," shouted Taol into the radio, "it's hurting us. Mishoda, put as much fire on the source of these air bursts as you can. After the game, we'll go down there and figure out what the hell it is."
"Yes sir,” said Mishoda.
Seconds later they all heard Mishoda's two machine guns open up. The Legion’s positions took a couple more air bursts and then the machine guns got the range. There was a small secondary explosion out in the woods and then the air bursts stopped, but not before a couple of the Legion’s troopers had taken some shrapnel wounds. This wasn't over yet.
#
Georgi launched seven grenades before the cadets began probing the woods with machine gun fire. At first, they were wildly off but they began correcting to target rapidly.
"Georgi, that's enough," said Sergeant Donyev. "Let's move out before they pot us."
Silently, Igor Donyev cursed. Those cadets had to have been watching where the Refs grav sled had touched down. He had thought about moving, but it would have meant disassembling Georgi's little contraption. After the speech he had made to the Ref, Igor felt that he had to give Georgi a chance. The effect had been worth it, but now it was time to go. Igor's reverie was broken by the slap of catapult's saplings against the ground. Georgi had fired another round.
"Damn it that's enough," shouted Igor.
"Sergeant, I have a few more grenades," He explained hastily as he loaded another grenade into the pouch and pulled back. "I don't think they will get to us before I can get them off."
Before Igor had a chance to argue further, machine gun fire hit the base of the catapult. Two bullets impacted the outside sapling, slicing it neatly in two. A third bullet impacted Geor
gi's forearm causing him to release the catapult pouch prematurely. The grenade flopped out in a wild slice that impacted less than ten meters away.
Georgi sat there stunned, holding the bloody stump of his forearm with his good hand. The 7.92mm slug from the cadet's MG-34 had broken both the radius and the ulna of his forearm and severed the artery. The force of the impact caused a compound fracture. The result looked like floor sweepings from a slaughter house.
Igor dove at Georgi and knocked him flat, shielding the twice wounded private with his own body from the blast of the grenade. Luckily, no fragments headed their way. The cadets began pouring high volumes of accurate machine gun fire into the area where the grenade had gone off. Igor knew that stray rounds or ricochets could come their way any second.
He picked Georgi up with the great strength afforded him by his Krasni heritage and ran toward a low berm a few meters away in a low, crouching, crab like run. As soon as he crossed the top of the berm, Boris's foot snaked out and tripped him, taking them both out of the line of fire.
Even before Igor could catch his breath, Boris was beginning first aid on the gasping Georgi. He placed a tourniquet just below the injury and began splinting and bandaging the abused arm.
Igor glanced at Georgi's face and saw that it was turning grey. The patient was unconscious and breathing weakly. It took a couple of moments for him to realize Georgi was slipping into cardiac arrest as a result of the stim tab he had received for his prior wound and the adrenalin surge brought on by the new injury to his arm. He immediately began CPR by compressing Georgi's chest.
"God damn it, Live!" Igor muttered with each compression. He soon realized that his great Krasni strength could break the ribs of the helpless trooper he was trying to save, so he moderated the force of his actions after the first two sledge hammer blows.
Georgi went from bad to worse. After the first thirty seconds of CPR, he quit breathing. Boris quit trying to tie a neat bandage on the damaged forearm and began mouth to mouth resuscitation. After what seemed to be an eternity, the color began to return to Georgi's face. After a couple more minutes, he began breathing on his own.
"That was close," sighed Boris after they quit CPR.
"Too damn close," agreed Igor. "This doesn't feel so much like a game anymore. Our goal used to be to get a job, now I don't know if it is worth it."
"Do you want to vegetate watching holo?" asked Boris sarcastically. "If I had nothing to do all day but watch that stuff, I'd commit suicide anyway. If nothing else, this gaming is an interesting way to kill yourself."
"True enough," said Igor with a sigh, "true enough. It leaves open the question, what do we do now?"
"We can't leave Georgi," said Boris, "not after what he has done."
"We could leave Ivan back here with him?" countered Igor.
"Anyone we leave will most probably not get a permanent position," said Boris. "The troopers might not sit still for it."
"Right," said Igor resignedly, "gather up Ivan and Vitoli and let's do this the fair way. I'll cut four strings. Three of them will be long and one will be short. The short one stays with Georgi."
In a couple of minutes, all four ambulatory troopers were clustered around the still unconscious Georgi. The strings were placed in his good hand and one by one they drew. As Igor had done the cutting of the string, he knew immediately after he had drawn that he had received the short one. The shock was visible on his face. He sat down with a bump. He hadn't considered the fact that he might have to wait for the end with Georgi.
"What is our next move, Sergeant?" asked Boris breaking the silence.
"You will work your way back to the Krasni positions," said Igor. His voice broke at first, but it grew steady as he continued. "With luck, you can join up with Colonel Sokolov before the last assault. Post-game films will show that we continued to fight and make contributions, even without our officers. Now get going."
Igor didn't trust his resolve to hold much longer. If they stayed, he would be tempted to order one of the troopers to stay back. They would be tempted to kill Georgi or abandon him to get back in the game.
"Is there anything we can do Sergeant?" asked Boris as he gathered up his equipment.
"One thing comrade," said Igor sadly. "Give me a little credit when they debrief you. It might help me keep this job."
"We will never forget," said Boris with sudden conviction. "If you hadn't found us we would still be cowering in the woods. Our professional future would be nil. We have a chance and it is because of you."
After that outburst, the normally reticent Boris lapsed back into silence.
"Thank you, Boris," said Igor quietly. "I should have known I could count on you. Now get going or you will also miss the show."
"Yes Sergeant," said a relieved Boris. He turned, gathered his troopers and left.
Only in the solitude that remained after Boris left, did Igor allow himself the luxury of weeping.
Chapter XVI
Jarl spent several minutes massaging sore muscles after his bout with the pressor beam. Silently, he mused that trying to fool the Refs hadn't been the best idea he had ever had. The five minute penalty and his slowness to recover from the pressor had slowed their progress down considerably, but the time had not been wasted. While Jarl recovered from the effects of the pressor beam, they had heard vehicles headed toward the rear of the Krasni position.
"Hey, Dietz," said Jarl in a whisper. "Which kind of attack do you think will make the most difference, an attack on the assault units or the support units?"
"Support, obviously," answered Dietz.
"Go to the head of the class my boy,” said Jarl. “What do you say we follow that column making all that noise over there? If they don't go too far, they just might be easy pickings."
"They just might," said a grinning Dietz. "Let's get to it."
#
"Colonel Sokolov," said Lieutenant Ustinov, "we have only twelve rounds of high explosive left."
"Right then," muttered the Krasni commander knowing it was not nearly enough. He switched on the radio in his jeep and spoke into the microphone, "Artillery prep is complete. Let's move out."
He tapped his driver on the shoulder and motioned him out into the clearing at the base of the hill. The infantry was walking in a ragged skirmish line, just as they had practiced. They had decided to concentrate on the southern side of the east slope of the hill so most of the fifty or so infantry troopers were lined up accordingly.
Their halftracks remained at the edge of the clearing, providing heavy machine gun support with their fifty caliber machine guns. Near the center of the infantry line, a Sherman Jumbo tank lumbered forward. It was idling forward at a walking pace. Victor knew that as they started to crest the hill, a walking pace would be about all that the tank could manage.
In the brush to the left flank of the advance was Ustinov's Hellcat tank destroyer. On the right flank, was the quad fifty caliber machine gun halftrack. Both of these vehicles were there to provide direct fire support as the troops moved up the hill. As the Krasni troopers went over the crest of the hill, these vehicles would move forward and support the action at the top.
That, at least, was the plan. Vicktor knew it could all fall apart as soon as the enemy opened fire.
#
"Life's a bitch in the infantry," groaned Corporal Benning. Colonel Ubner told Sergeant Major Jefferson who told squad leader Haloran who told her trusty rider, Corporal Benning to go recon the front of the hill.
Actually, the mission wasn't too bad. He and the crew of one of the armored infantry halftracks had been ordered to pick their way down the back side of the hill and set up a forward observation post. They had been ordered to keep the halftrack well back and use the machine gunner off the half-track to act as a runner to the radio mounted in the vehicle. If they were stealthy, they would probably not be noticed.
Benning's team consisted of a driver with the improbable name of 'Stack' Wilson and his gunner, Barb Hasting
s. Barb was chosen because her hobby was long distance running. It was apparent from the way she was built. She was very tall, over one hundred and eighty centimeters, and thin in a long, rangy, runner's way. He did not intend to make her run for miles. The plan dictated a distance of less than two hundred meters, but she might have to run that distance eight or ten times at a dead sprint. Typically, the last run she would make would probably be the most important, so Benning had wanted the best he could find.
It had taken just a few minutes to get down the backside of the hill, but when it came time to work forward, it got slower. For one thing, they couldn't be heard or seen setting up. For another, the map they were working from was very vague. They had to detour twice to get around bogs that did not show on their map. Now, if the map could be trusted, they should shut down the track and walk the rest of the way.
"Stack, keep the engine at an idle," said Benning, "I don't want the battery going out on us at a critical moment."
"Whatever you say," replied his driver.
"Barb,” said Benning as he turned to his runner, “you and I will work forward and see if we can see anything."
"Right."
Benning had elected to take his MP-38 sub-machine gun, extra ammo, a half dozen grenades, a 9mm Luger automatic, and a fighting knife. He was surprised to see Hastings taking only her knife and a compact Walther PPK .380 automatic in a shoulder holster. The .380 didn't have the punch of a 9mm, but the gun was a lot lighter.
"Aren't you a little under equipped for this mission trooper?" chided Benning.
"Not really," said Hastings. "I’m here to run, not to shoot. I want to able to get through the brush as silently and as fast as possible. Besides, you have enough toys for the both of us."
Benning smiled and realized she probably was right. They began moving silently forward. Crawling on their bellies for the last fifteen meters, they finally reached the edge of the clearing. In the distance, they could see the lines of Krasni troopers forming. Hastings took a quick look and began to head back.