The Major stepped up to three crates which Captain Friday had laid out ready for him in front of the troops. He lifted off the lids of each and pulled out the first weapon, holding it up for them all to see.
“This is the M97 automatic grenade launcher. You will have all seen it in the manuals. They have long been out of service due to the disarmament programmes around the world. They have already been tested against our enemy and have proven to be extremely successful. The armour piercing ammunition is effective up to around fifty metres, maybe a little more.”
The Major could see that several of the troops were looking uneasy at the range element. All of their primary armaments were effective up to a minimum of five hundred metres.
“It’s close range work for sure, but you’ll appreciate them in the field, trust me. We have about enough for one in four men. High explosive ammunition may be effective at longer ranges but we simply have no proof of that yet. You will be supplied both for now.”
He put the launcher back down into the box it had come from, reaching for the next.
“Ortiz and Campbell, next weapon is for you!”
Pulling out a hulking sniper rifle, he held it aloft with both hands. If stood against a man it would be the same height as the tallest of any marine stood on the parade ground. A monstrous magazine fed the weapon from behind the trigger in a Bullpup configuration.
“These anti-materiel rifles were built to punch through armour at a fair distance. They won’t touch the heavy tanks we now use and therefore likely not the enemy’s either. However, the armour penetration is equal to the M97s, up to four hundred metres at least. We have five of these, so I want you to select three others with high marksmanship ratings to join you.”
The company snipers looked at the vast weapons in astonishment, being over twice the size of what they had been accustomed to.
“Lastly, the ARMALs have proven to be useful on the battlefield but they don’t pack enough punch. You will still carry them, as much is in short supply. However, we have got twenty of these Aardvark devices. They are really just a bigger, meaner version of the ARMAL and will be distributed one per section. Any questions?”
“Sir, are the rest of the Corps receiving this hardware?” shouted Sergeant Silva.
“Yes, Sergeant, but not in this number. We have been given priority due to our previous experience and the nature of our unit. General White has been releasing all stores to personnel and has already put urgent operational order requests in for fresh production.”
Taylor could see the uncertainty on their faces. Most of them had seen what a struggle it was against small numbers of the creatures, open combat was a frightful thought.
“The reality is we do not have the equipment or technology we could do with to fight this war, but that has not stopped great nations from gaining victories throughout history. We are the best there is and we will give it our best shot. Any man or woman who doesn’t wish to fight should never have joined the Marine Corps. A great General once said, ‘
Americans love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle’. He also said
‘
A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan executed next week’.
Taylor paced up and down the line, desperately trying to think of words to reassure his troops though he already knew he could rely on them.
“Fact remains, we will likely never have the best weapons in this war. Nor the best tanks, the best planes, the best anything. What we have is the raw determination to survive and give them hell. We will prevail, we will because the fate of our entire race depends on us!”
The Major felt the datapad device in his pocket vibrate, the sign of an urgent message from command. He pulled it out as the marines before him anxiously waited to hear what news he was receiving. Taylor looked back up with an expression of relief. All realised that the time for waiting was over.
“This is it, gentleman! Captain Friday, distribute the new weapons and ammunition! Full battle order and aboard the trucks in ten minutes!”
* * *
Captain Jones’ rifle ran dry and he dipped back down behind the wreck of a vehicle he’d been using for cover to reload his weapon. Sergeant Dubois ran up and ducked into position beside him. The driver’s wounds had been cleaned but her forehead and cheek showed deep cuts that had been sealed with spray seal. She carried a rifle she’d clearly picked up from a fallen soldier and stuffed magazines into her filthy body armour.
For a moment the Captain thought about telling her to fall back and leave them to it. It was completely against all regulations to have a wounded member of the vehicle crew joining front line infantry. Then it came to him, the realisation that the modern regulations no longer counted for much in this war. They needed every hand on deck and every weapon in action. He appreciated her courage as much as her efforts. He nodded in gratitude as she rose above the wreckage and opened fire.
As Charlie slammed in the next magazine to his rifle, he looked back at the bodies of four of his men strewn across the road behind their positions. They were just a handful of the casualties in the bloody struggle to defend the tiny patch of the city centre they still held onto. The Captain had been given command of a company that morning, but now he was almost down to a platoon size once more.
“We’re getting annihilated, Sir!” shouted Saunders.
Jones thought for a minute. He looked up to the buildings around them. His troops continued to give the enemy everything they had as the buildings were collapsing all around them. He peered back over the barricades to see ten of the Mechs advancing down the street towards them.
“Why don’t they just nuke us?”
Jones looked to his batman who was stricken but still fighting back with a bitter hatred of the enemy. Then it struck the Captain. The enemy surely had the firepower to vaporise large areas just as they did.
“They want our planet, and without us on it, Private. Think what damage our nukes do. They don’t just want to kill us, they want our lands!”
“Whatever, Sir, we need to get the fuck out of here!”
Looking back down the street he could see that Major Chandra was dashing towards him with two of her marines at her side. A huge section of wall from a nearby building smashed down and crushed one of her men, narrowly missing her before she reached the Captain.
“Jones, we just got a Dart message from Rennes! Evac is in ten, we are to get to the rooftops immediately!”
The Dart system was antiquated technology that was only kept for emergency measures. It fired a targeted message module with pinpoint accuracy, using the theory of carrier pigeons used centuries before. It was a system for when all other technology failed.
“Got that, Captain? The boats won’t hang around, if you’re not there in ten then you’re on your own!” she shouted.
The Captain nodded with a reserved sigh. He had given up hope of surviving the siege. He was still dubious as to whether they would make it out alive, but at least it was something to lift the troops’ spirits. He looked to the men around him, knowing he needed runners to relay the message.
“Saunders, you take the buildings to the east, Hughes to the west. Relay this message, evac in ten, immediate withdrawal!”
The men quickly ran off into the now derelict buildings from where the troops continued fighting from. Jones leapt up and carried on laying down fire on the Mechs approaching their position. He looked back to the few troops left along the barricade.
“Come on! Give it to them!” he balled.
The runners didn’t spare a moment in recovering their comrades from the buildings. Any fatigue was immediately forgotten as the news of their rescue spread. The remaining troops poured out, some helping their wounded comrades who had fought on through injury.
“That’s it, fall back!”
Jones took to his feet and started to move back with the rest of the troops. The barricade and wrecked vehicles provided cover for their retreat, at least until the enemy reached them. He counted the troops as they rushed back towards the centre of the crossroads. He counted thirty-eight, including Dubois.
It was doubtful that anymore than a handful were at the aid station. Jones’ fear that he had lost close to three platoons out of four was a reality he was hoping not to have to face. Reaching the square he found Major Chandra and Colonel Girard ushering troops into the two tallest buildings either side of the road.
The French armour had been entirely abandoned and the troops funnelled into the buildings in a desperate hope of escaping the fate of many of their friends. Chandra looked at Jones’ bedraggled company jogging up the street, many being assisted.
“This all that survived?” she shouted.
Charlie nodded, he could not bring himself to say it. She was as distraught as him, but quickly snapped out of it.
“Alright, Captain, get your arse up top!”
Running through into the building that was a high class fifty-storey office complex, he could see troops pouring into the twelve elevators and many more queuing to use them.
“The wounded stay for the elevators, anybody still on their own two feet takes the stairs!” he ordered.
Jones smashed through the doors of the stairs and didn’t even break stride, leaping onto the first steps. He was already breathing heavily. It was in this moment that he appreciated the gruelling training regime they’d endured on a regular basis. All hated long runs in full armour, but it had readied them for this very moment. Not only were they running from the enemy, but also they all knew they had limited time.
Finally smashing through the rooftop doors, Jones’ exhausted men were greeted by the sight of countless aircraft with troops piling aboard. An explosion erupted in the sky as an enemy ship zoomed by and blasted a troop carrier out of the sky as it lifted off. Friendly fighters rocketed by with guns blazing.
Seeing a craft land not far to their side, Jones immediately rushed towards it, despite how dead his legs felt.
“Run!” he shouted.
They clambered aboard the vessel and sat helplessly hoping that they would make it out alive. From the windows in the side of the transport they saw the alien and human fighters battling it out. They saw at least ten friendlies drop out of the sky as the pilots placed themselves between the enemy and the transports.
The ship lifted off and immediately went to full throttle, darting across the sky. Seconds later they were away from it all. Gone were the deafening sounds of battle and the death and destruction all around. Now they sat in silence, hearing nothing but the faint drone of the engines. Not one of them could think of a word to say, they merely stared at each other in a combination of despair and relief.
* * *
Once again the Major sat looking at the troops which lined the copter they were travelling aboard. Gone were the cheerful jokes and larks that had echoed through the vessel during their training mission just days before. Their training had prepared them for a full-scale war, but none of them ever expected to face it.
Their briefing had been short and rather vague compared to most training briefs. It was clear they were on a mission full of uncertainty. The Canadian and SAU forces had already embarked via sea in the middle of the night. The marine forces attacked via air in a combined operation.
Taylor knew that this mission was a test bed for future operations. The attack was not intended to gain ground, but simply to occupy it for a short time, causing as much damage as possible to the enemy and giving relief to the war in France.
Without any idea of objectives or layout of the enemy island now known as Tartaros, the human troops were being piled in to cause as much trouble as they could. The expectation was to take and hold the western beachhead for no more than a day, killing as many of the enemy as possible and setting explosives on the way out. The Major didn’t like the lack of intelligence and knowledge about their target, but knew that they had no choice but to act.
Standing up, he walked along the fuselage of the ship and up to the cockpit. He looked out between the two pilots at the monstrous alien island before them. All around them were hundreds of aircraft. Fighters, bombers and transports. Up ahead they could just make out the shapes of the sea-based craft approaching the enemy. Tracer and energy pulses flew across the sky up head as their fighters engaged the enemy.
“ETA two minutes, Sir!” shouted the pilot.
“Thank you, Lieutenant!”
The enemy’s jamming technology had already stopped all communication via radio. Taylor missed his usual flight crew. It had become tradition to fly with Rains and Perez, but he knew that they were playing just as important a role. He went back to his men.