Come and Take Them-eARC (41 page)

Part VI

Chapter Thirty-nine

Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.

—Napoleon

Fort Nelson, Balboa Transitway Area, Balboa, Terra Nova

The alleged phenomenon of decision cycling had perhaps never really worked as it had been billed in the history of warfare on two planets. That said, sometimes one could present one’s enemy with so many decisions at one time that he either fell into paralysis or, in attempting to meet them all, fell victim to micromanagement and violation of span of control.

To some extent Carrera had already done this to the Tauran Union forces in Balboa. Taking advantage of their penchant for micromanagement anyway, he had presented them with so many targets, so widely dispersed, that the Tunnel had taken command of platoons, bypassing brigades and battalions in the process.

For example, the Gallic Thirty-fifth Commandos’ combat elements consisted of three companies of commandos, each of three platoons, plus small mortar and antitank elements, and a headquarters which had scout, medium mortar, and antitank platoons, plus the “ash and trash” usually found in a headquarters.

The Thirty-fifth, however, hadn’t been given a battalion mission, nor even three company missions close enough in space for battalion to exercise command and control. Oh, no, because of the target array presented by Carrera, one company, Company B, was assigned to helicopter to Fort Guerrero to attack the headquarters of Second Tercio and Second Legion. Another rifle company, Alpha, had three separate platoon missions, none of them within easy supporting distance of any other. The last rifle company, Charlie, was more fragmented still, having one mission for a platoon, one for a platoon minus one squad, and four for individual squads.

Command- and control-wise, these arrangements had one imagined virtue to the man theoretically at the top, McQueeg-Gordon. Being an artilleryman himself, dedicated to the maxim that guided virtually all artillery thinking—“maximum feasible centralized control”—to him this form of mission tasking ensured that all the real control, all the real decision making power, remained with his headquarters.

The Thirty-fifth had one more difficulty to contend with. When the better part of the equivalent of a Tauran infantry division had begun bearing down on Arnold Air Force Base and its own Fort Nelson, the commandos had to abandon planning and rehearsing for its offensive missions in order to dig in like madmen in case they had to defend their own turf.

Forts Melia and Tecumseh, Balboa Transitway Area, Balboa, Terra Nova

Much the same story held true for the Fourteenth Infantry and Thirty-seventh Commando on Fort Melia, as well as the Two Hundred and Seventeenth Infantry currently enduring the jungle school at Fort Tecumseh. When those had been threatened by the maneuvers of Jimenez’s corps, covering for the cadets, with the added possibility of civilian rioting to contain, both battalions had had to suspend offensive preparations and begin to dig in with most companies, while rehearsing riot control with at least one each. This would all change once the Taurans moved and seized the initiative, of course. It was only a temporary matter, and unimportant, that they were currently reacting to Balboan moves.

Fort Muddville, Balboa Transitway Area, Balboa, Terra Nova

The dragoon battalion, the 420th, plus the Sachsen Panzer Battalion, the Fifteenth, were also pinned, even though no one was obviously threatening the Fort Muddville-Brookings area. With units of the Balboan Third searching
Ciudad
Balboa City house by house for traces of the murderers, so many small units that they proved impossible to keep track of, the two heavy battalions had had to stay put, organized into two heavy task forces, one Gallic dominated, one Sachsen, with their recon elements well to the south to watch the approaches into their area. Any other choice would leave both the key installations, Muddville and Brookings, at the mercy of a Balboan surprise attack. Possibly even the Florida Locks could have been endangered.

Pedregal, Balboa, Terra Nova

An assistant helped Fernandez move his wheelchair onto the specially made lift on the right side of his staff van. The lift descended to the asphalt parking lot that abutted the warehouse. A signifer of the Eleventh Tercio by the name of Boyd reported to him.

“Sir, this looks like the place.”

“Show me,” Fernandez ordered.

The signifer saluted and turned to lead the way. As he walked he looked over his shoulder to explain what he had seen. “There is a lot of dried blood and shit on the floor. I’m not a policeman so I can’t say who or what the blood is from. But the place has never been used for a slaughterhouse, the realtor tells me. There are also some things that I don’t think police use much. Blowtorches. Vise grips. A rope run over a pipe. Big pile of shit under that one.”

“Where is the owner?” Fernandez demanded.

“Actually the realtor, sir, and he waiting for you, sir. Inside. He also says he can give a description of the man who rented the place.”

From his wheelchair Fernandez turned his head as far as he was able and ordered an underling to, “Get us some composite sketch people here immediately. I want a video team and a forensics team as well.” The underling began to dial on his cellular phone.

The signifer continued, “Sir, inside there’s also a van painted in NDI colors and some police uniforms.”

Fernandez’ wheelchair reached the open garage door and looked inside. “Oh, yes. This is the place all right. Boyd, you and your men have done well. Please deploy them around the site to secure it.”

Looking around the foul smelling room, Fernandez contemplated a problem.
Should I even tell Carrera we’ve made a serious leap in solving the case? He’s ready to fight now; or will be within a few hours at the latest. He might change his mind if he thinks peace is possible.

Fernandez was one of the very few people who knew essentially all the details of the national-size ambush Carrera planned to spring on the Taurans. He closed his eyes to shut out distractions so that he could concentrate.
But this was a once in a millennium chance. If we let those boys come out of their hides and go back home the secret will never be kept. Carrera knows that as well as I do. And…I think that he’s decided war with the Tauran Union is inevitable. Damned likely anyway.

It was my job, once upon a time, to provide the spark that would ignite an Tauran invasion. I wonder if Carrera knows that one of the plans I considered was to have an Tauran woman, a soldier or a soldier’s wife preferably, grabbed off the street by some thugs and beaten, raped and killed in front of a video camera?

Ah, well. I’d better tell him and let him decide what to do.

A few hours later, when the composite artists had produced a picture of the man who had rented the warehouse, Fernandez swore at length and with eloquence. “Arias!” He knew exactly where to find a photo of the culprit. And he knew that the folder with the picture would have an address.

“Boyd, give me one squad,” demanded Fernandez.

Paitilla,
Ciudad
Balboa, Balboa, Terra Nova

Quickly and quietly the squad from Boyd’s platoon fanned out to surround the house. No sirens alerted the occupants; it wasn’t that kind of a squad. When the squad was in position Fernandez gave a signal. Doors were smashed down, to the alarm of the neighbors. In a few moments the soldiers emerged, dragging a woman and four children aged six to thirteen. Fernandez said not a word as two soldiers unloaded scrap wood onto a pile and set it alight. Once the flames were roaring he turned to the woman.

“Where is your husband?” demanded Fernandez. The woman said nothing.

Turning to the squad leader Fernandez commanded “Throw one of her brats on the fire…” He pointed to the youngest and said “That one!”

The woman shrieked, sank to her knees and began to beg for the life of her child.

“Madam,” said Fernandez, and his voice was colder than any ice, “you have a choice. Tell me what I want to know or see your children burn alive. For their sakes, I hope you know where your husband is.”

The woman gibbered until the soldiers reluctantly picked up her baby and made ready to throw it into the flames. Sobbing, then, she murmured an address.

Lumière, Gaul, Terra Nova

An aide ducked a head into Janier’s office, announcing that Carrera wished to speak with him.

“Janier.”

“We have a photo, now, of one of them. We expect to have more within a few days.”

“Do you have them in custody?” Janier demanded.

“I don’t recall that a picture leads to instantaneous capture in the Tauran Union,” Carrera retorted. “Can you give me an example?”

Janier ignored the jibe, answering, “The Tauran Union isn’t facing what you are if those men are not captured.”

“Good point,” Carrera admitted. “On the other hand, we’re maybe a little tougher to take on than some others, as well. It might be that the Cosmopolitan Progressive Neo-Aristocracy that runs your Union has forgotten that.” Carrera’s tone was not conciliatory.

Yes, it might be,
Janier silently agreed. Even so, he said, “But whatever they have remembered or forgotten is irrelevant. Before it’s too late, you had best remember you can’t win, not against the full might of the Tauran Union. Find those bastards, quickly. And, by the way, whatever happened to the men we sent to
Lago Sombrero
to ensure that you were abiding by your word?”

“They’re being held.”
Those still alive
.

“Good. Nothing had better happen to them. Janier, out!”

Imperial Base Camp, Imperial Range Complex, Balboa, Terra Nova

Since the beginning of the crisis, the Balboans had, for a change, pulled all their people out of the base camp, leaving it free for the TU. Into that slightly superior facility the helicopter-borne troops of the Gallic First Airmobile Brigade had moved, not a bit sorry to leave behind their inadequate tents.

There were only a few powers in the world willing to pay the expense of maintaining a completely airmobile division. The Federated States did. The late Volgan Empire had. And the Gauls had. Now that division was reduced down to about the size of a brigade. Of that brigade, two full combat battalions, plus all the helicopters needed to lift one of them simultaneously, waited expectantly for the word to move. The full brigade headquarters was there, along with artillery and engineer detachments. There would not be enough lift for those last two until the infantry had been shuttled out.

In the wooden-walled and tin-roofed square shack that served as the command post, the commander of the brigade, a lantern-jawed colonel, listened while his company, troop, and battery commanders, one after the other, back briefed their parts in the next day’s operations.

The brigade was initially assigned to eliminate the Balboan Tenth Artillery Legion at and around Alcalde Flores. The Tenth was scattered in eight different casernes around the area. Accordingly, the brigade had assigned its three artillery batteries and two scout platoons to insure that two of the casernes were under sufficient observed fire that mobilization would be impossible. The artillery batteries were, of course, available to fire in support of other units.

An infantry battalion’s three rifle companies had the same mission for another six casernes. The remaining battalion’s job was to tackle and quickly destroy one of the casernes and the leaders expected to be found on it. They would then be helicoptered to another, until it was neutralized. This would free up another company, so that the four maneuverable companies could fly to and link up with two reduced companies that were still static, and overrun yet two more casernes until those were taken. The two reduced companies that were freed up by that would close on their still engaged sister companies. It would take several iterations, but there was nothing in principle wrong with the concept. That said, even though it was not a bad plan, it did, perhaps, depend too much on things going well from the start.

Casa
Linda, Highway
InterColombiana
, Balboa, Terra Nova

Carrera stopped by the house on his way to
Lago Sombrero,
the place he judged, more than any other, to be the center of gravity for the battle to come.

“It’s time to go,
miel
,” he told Lourdes.

“But, Patricio, this is only our home. Why should they bomb us here? Surely they wouldn’t. After all, you’ll be gone. It will only be myself and the children and our ‘helpers’ here.”

“They don’t know that. I’ve actually gone to some trouble to make sure they don’t know where I am. And I don’t know that they will bomb or they won’t. I
do
know that they might…to get me.”

Bowing to the inevitable, Lourdes nodded sadly. Tears in her eyes, she began to direct the servants, the guards, Alena, the children, and Ham’s wives, to save what they could of the most important of her and her husband’s treasures, things more sentimental than valuable. Carrera, once he had seen that there would be no further argument, gave her what might be a last hug, kissing her lips and neck, and left for
Lago Sombrero
in his unescorted and nondescript sedan.

Aserri Airport, Santa Josefina, Terra Nova

Calderón probably never really understood the full implications of bringing Tauran troops into his country. Raised to accept the artificial fantasy of neutrality based on impotence, he hadn’t even considered that, once he brought foreign troops in, he had already given up his country’s neutrality. Indeed, he’d given it up so thoroughly that the Taurans didn’t even bother to consult with Santa Josefina as they took over airfield and port in the course of building up for the coming invasion.

Part of that build-up included the Anglian Parachute Brigade. One of its battalion commanders, a Lieutenant Colonel Marshall McIntire, climbed the short ramp leading into the aircraft with more seeming calm than he felt. Behind, ahead, and around him about two thousand parachute infantry likewise clambered up narrow steps and through cramped doors toward the uncomfortable troop seats. They were their nation’s best, fittest, and bravest. Few of them felt McIntire’s qualms. They had the best training, the best arms and equipment, the best men in the world. And they were going to attack
Balboa,
for Christ’s sake! What reason had they to worry?