by Mark Rounds
#
Jarl and his stealthy little troop was busily preparing some nasty surprises for any troops that attempted to follow them. They had set hand grenades on trip wires forward of their selected firing positions. As they had used this tactic once before, Jarl assumed that the Krasni would not fall for it a second time. They prepared another welcome.
The position Dietz had chosen was just behind the lip of the hill. Further down the hill on the side facing the Krasni, Jarl and his two other troopers had crawled forward. There, they set up a flanking position relative to the line of advance the Krasni would have to take to avoid the most likely positioning of booby traps. That way, if they came straight on, they would hit the grenades. If they moved to the northern flank to avoid them, Jarl would take them with flanking fire. If they maneuvered to the south, the terrain was so rough that Jarl and his little band would have plenty of time to get away.
From his position fifty meters away, Jarl nodded at Dietz. Dietz sighted through the crude optical sight of the panzer faust and let fly with the rocket. The projectile impacted half a meter forward of the spot for which he had aimed. The warhead exploded with an impressive bang, but the blast splashed harmlessly across the thickest armor on the tank, the turret mantle.
Dietz had no time for remorse, for the machine gunner on a nearby halftrack began to fire his heavy fifty caliber machine gun at his position. He slid down the hill and retreated, as planned, to the rendezvous point agreed on earlier. It was now up to Jarl and the remaining troopers to put the hurt on the Krasni.
#
Monty heard an explosion. Since his command track had a canvas cover to protect his plans from prying eyes, the cause of the blast was not readily apparent. As he headed for the exit, he heard the distinctive sound of the fifty caliber machine gun beginning to fire.
He cautiously peered around end of the vehicle and checked the vehicles of the headquarters section. They all seemed to be intact. He then noticed the burn mark on the turret mantle of the Pershing.
"Trust a cadet to hit the thickest piece of armor on the whole playing field," he thought to himself with amusement. His mind quickly shifted gears from amusement to the business of death.
"Yosep,” said Monty, “bring the headquarters commander and the infantry section leader to me please."
"Yes, Warlord," said the huge Krasni trooper. Yosep then slipped silently out of the vehicle.
Monty was disconcerted by the presence of Sokolov's enforcer. Yosep was listed on the company's roster as a mere trooper. On the other hand, he was kept on the payroll even during the lulls between games and his pay rate was as high as a senior NCO. Sokolov used him only for the toughest missions so it didn't ring quite true that this highly trained, highly motivated trooper was there only as his 'body guard'. Still, when he was sent to bring anybody to Monty's track, you could be very sure that they came.
"Warlord," said the taciturn giant, "they are here."
"Thank you Yosep," said Monty. He knew it would be a waste of time to ask him to leave, for he took the mission of body guard as seriously as any other.
"We need to suppress that cadet infantry," said Monty. "I want to send out a patrol strong enough to take them. If we don't, they may manage to put one of those anti-tank rockets where it might do some damage. I propose to send our infantry section plus as many headquarters troops as we can spare. It is my thought that the smallest patrol that can succeed would be eight. Questions?"
Monty looked over the two NCO's and knew there wouldn't be. Both of them had averted their eyes, waiting for the rest of the briefing. Unfortunately, neither of these individuals was capable of leading an aggressive patrol. Yosep was also out of the question. He would never deviate from the orders given him by Sokolov. His eyes rested on the 'advisor'. Despite his noncombatant status, Monty knew he was a very experienced NCO. He silently pointed to the small framed man.
"You will lead the patrol", he said.
"I can't," said the advisor shaking his head vigorously. "It states very clearly in my contract that I may not be used to confront enemy troops."
"If you had read all the clauses in the document you hold up as a shield," said Monty, "you would have noticed one called 'Combat Emergencies Clause'. That would be section 4.31 I believe. In that section, it states clearly that all personnel, regardless of classification, can be drafted into combat roles if dire straits exist. I believe raiders in the rear areas would be considered dire enough, although you do have the right to protest to the Refs if you do not think it applies."
"You know very well I can't go to the Refs,” said the adviser hotly. “Besides, I have no weapons. I believe there is a clause about sending in any trooper who is unprepared or unsupplied?"
Monty exasperatedly reached down and grabbed the M-3 grease gun from the brackets in the drivers compartment of the command track and tossed it to him. The M-3 was an American manufactured submachine gun that was supplied to most vehicle crew members. It had a low rate of fire and wasn't very accurate. The one saving grace about them was that they were cheap.
"Here," stated Montgomery flatly, "you're armed."
"This will not go unnoticed, you fraud," said the advisor in a voice so low that Monty had to strain to catch it all. "I will have my revenge."
Without another word, he turned and left. The meeting ended soon after.
The patrol left so abruptly after the end of the meeting that Monty had no time to brief them on the patrol's objectives. Still, Monty was pleased. The advisor was out of his hair and the man was mad enough to be very aggressive. Either he would deal with the cadet raiders in a brutal style, or if the worst happened, and the patrol got ambushed, Monty could still direct machine gun and cannon fire from the rest of the headquarters unit.
#
Nikita Chernyenko had been happy to be sent to the rear area to guard the heavy tank. Now, he was not so sure. This was his first battle, and he had hoped to gain some experience so maybe, in the future, he could land a permanent position. Instead of an orderly progression through the ranks, he was now a section leader for a group of rear area technicians. They were part of a patrol against the group of cadets that had been sniping at them since the beginning of the game. To be sure, this was a short cut to a real job. But it could also be a short cut to the grave.
He had been watching the last time that pseudo-British relic had sent a patrol after this group of raiders. They had stumbled into booby traps left in the cadet's old positions. One trooper had lost his leg, and they had been seasoned troops. Now he was on the same mission with a bunch of noncombatants and technicians. Even the individual in charge of the patrol was technically a noncombatant.
Nikita had to admit, however, this one was different. They had left in a rush, but after they were a few meters outside of their perimeter, they stopped and got organized. This advisor set up fire teams with specific missions. The personnel in each team were selected to best accomplish the mission at hand. His team was the support team. It would be his job to lay down support fire if they got ambushed.
The advisor had emphasized that keeping up a good base of fire would allow the other team to maneuver and destroy any ambush. To that end, Nikita and his team travelled ten meters behind the first team, which was led by the advisor himself.
Their route of travel was different too. This noncombatant advisor had also seen what had happened to the first patrol to engage these raiders. Accordingly, they worked their way to the north of the location from which the enemy had fired. This was done to avoid any booby traps that might have been set.
They had not travelled more than a hundred meters when all hell broke loose. Nikita saw three explosions in the area of the forward element. The explosions were followed by withering small arms fire. It seemed that at least two troopers in the lead element went down.
Nikita began firing short bursts from his Browning automatic rifle into the area he perceived to be the origin of most incoming fire. The big Browning fired slower th
an the submachine guns the cadets used, but the impact was devastating. Dirt and leaves shuttered and flew through the air when the rounds impacted the ground. He quickly went through the first twenty round clip in his weapon. As he rolled away to load another, Nikita looked at the other members of his fire team.
They all seemed to be hiding. In the ten seconds it took Nikita to fit another magazine into his weapon, they didn’t fire once. Nikita fired most of his new magazine in one long, satisfying burst. He then jumped up and ran to the location of his nearest team member.
The cowering technician did not see him coming. The first indication he had that Nikita was in the nearby vicinity was the violent collision of Nikita's boot with the technician's rear end. The impacted raised him several centimeters off of the ground.
"Fire, coward," shouted Nikita as he took cover near the startled technician.
"Our mission is to provide fire support," he continued.
The technician immediately fired an entire clip, swinging his M-3 grease gun around like a fire hose.
"At least shoot in the general direction of the enemy," snapped Nikita as he fired a five round burst into the bushes. He then fitted another magazine into his BAR and watched as the technician attempted to control his fire. Nikita decided that the results were grim, but at least he was trying.
Nikita fired another short burst from his weapon and was up and running to the next team member.
The technician, a radio operator by training, had seen the effect of Nikita's boot on the unprotected posterior of his colleague. He immediately began firing short bursts. Nikita put the barrel of the BAR in the radioman's nose.
"Stop firing and hide again and you will see this weapon in action from the business end," growled Nikita. For added emphasis, he chambered a round. The radioman began firing with enthusiasm, if not accuracy.
Nikita launched most of the next clip in the direction of the enemy. He got up and began running to the hiding place of the last of the reluctant technicians.
As he sprinted across an opening in the brush, Nikita felt a sharp blow to his left thigh.
"Damn," thought Nikita as he stumbled and began to spin toward the ground. He was able to check his spin when his knees buckled and sank into the moist earth. As soon as his vision cleared, he emptied the remaining rounds in his weapon in the general direction of the cadet forces. He heard the Pershing heavy tank open fire with its main gun and machine guns.
"Too little, too late," he thought as he fumbled for another magazine.
Before Nikita could get his weapon loaded, three more rounds slammed into to his chest. Time slowed to a crawl as he fell back toward the ground. The blue tinted roof of the habitat swam lazily into view. Nikita smiled, for blue was his favorite color. That happiness was the last sensation Nikita ever felt, for his life did not last long enough to feel the impact of his fall.
One by one, the technicians of Nikita's team stopped firing and began slipping away. They knew returning to their base camp now would be hazardous to their collective health. So they found places to wait out the battle.
"It was better to remain alive," they reasoned, "than not to remain at all."
Chapter XVIII
Lieutenant Ustinov returned to the depression where Colonel Sokolov had taken cover. He silently prepared himself for the wrath of his commander when he found out about the patrols.
"Colonel Sokolov," he began.
"Lieutenant," he interrupted, "What have the patrols discovered?"
Silently he braced himself. "Sir the patrol working the south returned without discovering anything. Sergeant Romanov has not returned from his patrol. He should have been able to cover the distance there and back quite easily by now."
"I see," said Sokolov icily. "Did we hear anything from that direction?"
"There was an explosion," he answered quickly. "The trooper who reported the blast indicated that it was probably a grenade, sir."
"So we didn't get the enemy listening post,” said Sokolov grimly. “They got us. We don't know where the enemy is or how many there might be, do we Lieutenant Ustinov?"
"No sir."
"And to top it all off, they now know we are looking for them, right?"
"Most probably sir."
"I can't fault you, Lieutenant," said Sokolov wearily. "With Yosep in the back area, Romanov was the best man for the job. That means that they may have more than just an LP in the smoke. Let's get off this damned hill and try again.
“Get over to the Sherman,” said Sokolov after he had thought for a moment, “and get on the radio. Have every person we have on the field meet us at the bottom of the hill. We'll give it one more try. Also, dispatch the two remaining recon jeeps to patrol the area immediately to the north and south of the hill. It could be that the cadets have more than one LP."
"Yes, Colonel," said a relieved Ustinov as he hustled over to the tank. He was off the hook. All he had to do now was not screw up the retreat. Life might just be worth living after all.
Sokolov watched the obviously relieved lieutenant leave to begin his work.
"Now if only someone would tell me what to do," he mused as he got up. In the old days he could call Monty and abdicate all responsibility. They still would be better off without the old fool, but at least he now knew the function of the old relic. He was Sokolov's crutch.
This realization colored his thoughts as he went from man to man, giving them the order to retreat.
#
"Why are the Krasni retreating?" asked Commodore Hong as he watched the large holo display. "They haven't taken all that many casualties."
"It would be a slaughter to advance against that kind of fire," said Bernard Ubner. "The cadets did a good job setting up that defense."
"This can't be the end then?" said Commodore Hong.
"Oh, they have a lot of time left,” said Bernard. “They will try again, and this time, the butcher will pay the bill if they can't get an opening."
#
The return fire of the Krasni died out after a time. From sounds even Taol could hear, the Krasni were retreating down the hill. He heard a knock on the hatch of his command vehicle, turned, and saw Sergeant Svoboda.
"It's good to see you, Sergeant," said Taol. "But that was a dangerous thing to do."
"Not really sir," she answered easily. "I didn't have to do anything but listen. The Krasni were the ones moving around. They were easy to avoid."
"I see," said Taol, not really seeing at all. "What have you got to report?"
"The Krasni are headed back down the hill,” said Svoboda. “They didn't take many casualties that I could see. I suspect they'll try again."
"That they might, Sergeant," said Taol after a moment of thought. "Report this to Jeffy and then get back to your position here on the hill if you please. I don't think you can get away with that stunt of yours a second time."
"I won't have to sir," she said. "I left a bunch of grenades and trip flares in selected positions on the hill. We'll hear any move they are likely to make."
"That was also very risky. But you did a fine job, thanks."
"All part of the service, sir," she said as she left the command halftrack.
Taol turned his attention to the action at hand. There was no incoming fire at this point so he let the troops fire for a couple of minutes as a stress reliever. Then he called for a cease fire.
"Sergeant Major, are you on the air?" asked Taol over the general frequency.
"Yes sir," he replied,
"Get a detail back to the headquarters area," said Taol, "and start resupplying the troops with ammo. They have got to be low."
"Already on the way."
"And I suppose you have already sent Stoltz and the headquarters troops to the rear."
"Affirmative," said Jeffy.
"Carry on, Sar Major," said Taol feeling a little useless but then waiting will do that to you. It was now that his job began. It was time to try to guess the Krasni's next move.
#
The rest of the Krasni patrol from the headquarters perimeter became casualties except for one. The 'advisor' realized that his patrol was no match for the prepared cadets.
Providentially, a 9mm slug from one of the cadets’ machine pistols grazed his forearm. He collapsed as though he were mortally wounded. The rest of his section lasted only seconds.
The 'advisor' waited until the cadet fire had died away and then began to quietly trail the fleeing cadets. Carefully, he closed in on the clearing that the cadets were apparently using as a rallying point. He crept to the edge of the clearing just as the cadets left the other side. Silently, he cursed himself for not stopping to pick up grenades from one of the fallen Krasni troopers. Still, from the equipment the cadets left in the clearing, he knew they would return.
The 'advisor' heard the sound of a moving column. He realized that it had to be the Krasni headquarters group moving up to reinforce a last push. For just a moment, he felt a pang of conscience. Should he do something to warn the Warlord about the roving cadets?
Wry amusement creased his face. The destruction of the Pershing tank would be a just reward for making him hazard combat. The advisor settled in to wait for the cadets to return for their reward.
#
Jarl thought the ambush went very well. Their grenades had thoroughly demoralized the enemy patrol. After a few minutes of sporadic return fire, the Krasni patrol had virtually disintegrated. They had seen at least four enemy troopers go down. They stopped their attack only after they began to receive incoming fire from the infantry tracks and the Pershing tank. Jarl and his troopers low crawled to the lip of the hill and then skidded down to the bottom. There, Dietz was waiting to hear the news.
"Well, what happened?" asked Dietz.
"We hit them hard," said Jarl. "Hopefully, they will spend more time chasing phantoms than fighting the boys and girls on the hill. Now let's head back to our positions. There is little more we can do here."