The War for Profit Series Omnibus (18 page)

“Floor it, driver.”

The tank sped along the river bottom. The grunts had no trouble holding on. Any infantry troop who had anti-armor training would have no trouble holding on. Galen looked over his shoulder at the troop behind him “So, how do you like this?”

“Beats walking, Chief.” The troop’s face was smeared with camouflage the color of dark loam and tree moss. Instead of a standard pattern, there were alternating streaks a centimeter wide run diagonally across his face. The other troops had a similar pattern.

“What’s with the stripes of camouflage across your face?”

“We’re light!”

“I thought you were supposed to darken the high parts of your face and put a lighter shade in the recessed parts of your face, so it blends with your surroundings.”

“Well if you were light instead of a DAT you’d know better.”

Galen shrugged and faced forward in his cupola. The situation map showed that the tank destroyer was to the left, over the next low hill. Halfway up the hill, Galen halted his platoon.

“Dismount, troops,” he told the infantry Chief. The infantry jumped off the tanks and ran up the hill, changed to a low crawl near the top. They lay on their stomachs and looked over the crest. The infantry Chief signaled that he sighted a hard target. Galen had his driver pull ahead slowly. The infantry Chief gave ground-guide signals as best he could while lying on the ground. Soon he signaled “Stop.”

Galen stood in his cupola and could see over the crest of the hill and down to the bottom land beyond. He saw nothing but grass and water maples and crab apple trees. The water maples were thick by the river but only a single clump grew at the high end of the low ground between this hill and the next “Take charge, two three.”

“Roger out.”

Galen dismounted and walked over and squatted next to the infantry Chief. Tankers wearing combat suits generally weren’t too concerned about seeking cover. The bulky suit discouraged any dismounted movement other than slow walking.

Galen removed his helmet. “What is it?”

“That clump of concealment. Looks like a bunker to me. We got an oblique shot and they probably don’t know we have a tank here.”

“Okay.” Galen put his helmet on and walked back to his tank. Maybe the grunt Chief just didn’t like trees. Galen figured the discharge of a laser bolt at some trees wouldn’t hurt a thing. It was worth doing if only to make the infantry Chief feel better. Anyway, he’d crank up the charge to six to put on a good show. Galen climbed back into his tank and connected his commo cord.

“Charge six, Boggs.”

The diodes hummed as they brought the capacitors of the laser cannon to double normal combat strength.

“Up,” said Boggs.

“Ahead twenty meters and halt, driver.”

Jones pulled the tank forward. Galen had a full, clear view of the clump of water maples and the land sloping up behind it. He pointed at the trees on the monitor “Target, Sergeant Boggs.”

The laser pulsed. The lights and monitors in the tank went completely blank for three seconds. The reserve battery bank dropped to below fifteen percent of capacity and Galen’s cupola machine gun wouldn’t fire until the electrical subsystems came back on line.

The laser bolt took only a micro-second to burn through the screening, overload the ablative coating and push a blob of molten steel into the crew compartment of the tank destroyer. The water maples burned. Two three and three three pulled forward and fired their lasers at the dug-in tank destroyer. The steel bullets of their coaxial rail guns sparked as they glanced off the vehicle. A gout of sandbagged earth and vegetative camouflage blew into the air, the result of the main-gun ammunition inside the tank destroyer exploding. The 100mm gun drooped, its muzzle touching the ground. A pillar of black smoke rose from the destroyed vehicle. Rifle and machine gun ammunition popped and pinged as it cooked off inside.

The main power came back on line in Galen’s tank. He checked his situation map. This tank destroyer was positioned to cover the rear and left flank of the tank destroyer that had ambushed the panzer grenadier vehicles earlier that afternoon. It was concealed, dug in, covered with earth and electronically shielded. The infantry Chief had spotted it, though. Galen remembered the water maples growing too far away from the river.

“Three zero, what’s up?”

Galen sent a visual replay of the target engagement to Sevin. “We got good grunts, zero one. They pointed this out to me.”

“Of course they’re good, they’re light!”

“Roger that.”

“Zero one out. Uh, break, you got incoming.”

Galen slammed his hatch, “Floor it, driver!”

The situation map showed six red dots along the ridge Galen’s platoon was on, the predicted points of impact for the incoming enemy artillery shells. Sixteen seconds to impact. The infantry ran forward and down the slope of the hill towards the burning enemy tank destroyer. The tanks were ahead of them, cresting the next hill.

Galen popped his hatch and stood. “Stop here.”

Third platoon halted. Three three had its turret pointed to the right, firing its coaxial rail gun at a Mosh machine gun crew that was set up to protect the hidden tank destroyer from infantry attack. A squad of light infantry clumped beside Galen’s tank for cover. The ridge a hundred and fifty meters behind Galen exploded as the artillery shells crashed in. Three three stopped firing. The enemy machine gun was gone from the situation map.

Galen turned on his tank’s external loud speakers, “Mount up, we’re moving out. Mount up, we’re moving out.”

The infantry boarded the tanks. Galen counted eleven passengers and saw no friendly dismounts in the area. “Let’s go, stop at the base of the next hill. Get me out of the artillery’s arc.”

“Three zero, this is zero one. Report.”

Galen slapped the power switch to the aux, turning off the command net. He didn’t have time to chat with Sevin; he had a platoon to run. He had redleg looking for him and had to move before they could adjust their fire. The infantry Chief slapped the back of Galen’s helmet. Galen turned to see what he wanted. He pointed at his ears and mouth. Galen handed him a commo hand mike. “Hey DAT, what are we doing?”

“Going after some redleg. You have your mortars with you?”

“Yes. Only four, with four rounds of armor-seeking and twelve rounds of dual purpose.”

“Take a peek inside.” The infantry Chief stuck his head in the cupola and looked at the situation map. Galen pointed out the location of the enemy armored guns. “Eight more klicks and we got them.”

“The rest of the group is holding up. Maybe we should rejoin them.”

“Hell no. We just made a breakthrough; we have to exploit it. They can reform and roll up the flank we just tore open.”

“We’re just a platoon of infantry and three recon tanks. We can’t fight the whole enemy force.”

“I thought you were light.”

The infantry Chief thought for a moment. “Drive on! We’re light, by God!”

Galen switched to platoon push, “Keep a fifty meter interval. We’ll swing to the flat ground by the river and make a run to grid five five nine by three seven three. Then we cut into the draw at five five nine and go north to grid line four oh two and halt there.”

“Two three, roger out.”

“Three three, roger out.”

The tanks off.

***

Galen stopped on grid 56O/4OO.

“Pivot steer a three sixty, Jones.” The tank spun completely around twice, making a depression a half meter deep and four meters across in the dark brown sod of the grassy bottom land. “Pull forward fifteen meters.”

The tank stopped and Galen removed his helmet and spoke to the infantry Chief. “That’s exactly five six zero by four hundred.”

The infantry Chief made some hand gestures. The mortar crews began setting up their weapons in the dark circle of torn sod. “Good. Where’s the redleg?”

“Four three two seven by two six five three.”

The infantry Chief entered the grid coordinate into his handheld Combat Leader’s Digital Message Device. He jumped off the tank and spoke to the mortar team leader. “Quad, three seven six two. Elevation, nine seven five. Fuse, two one point seven five. Fire for effect, expend all rounds.”

The mortar crews made adjustments to the weapons and set the fuses of the 85mm warheads. They dropped the High Explosive/Anti Tank shells into the mortars. The shells launched with a hollow metallic whoosh. In less than ten seconds all their shells were headed down range. The mortar crews march-ordered their weapons and climbed back aboard the tanks.

Galen broadcast on platoon push, “Back to the rear, third herd.” He remembered the external loud speaker and decided to leave it on. He rode standing in his cupola hatch as his tank moved at top speed to rejoin the main body.

The infantry Chief used the hand mike again. “That was sweet. How’d we do?”

“Can’t tell until they fire again. Gotta have new ballistic data to determine enemy strength. But we tracked our own shells. Nineteen were within thirty meters and the other seven landed within sixty meters.”

“Not bad at all. Probably shook them up a bit.”

Galen turned on his aux, “Zero one, this is three zero, over.”

“About damned time you decided to get back with the program! You pissed me the hell off, Chief. If you wish to remain a Chief in the Jasmine Panzer Brigade, you will keep in touch with me at all times. Over.”

Galen waited. He didn’t understand the commander’s outburst. “Roger zero one.”

“You call a halt and go to ground and do a defense facing west, right where you’re at. I’ll be by shortly to reinforce your position. Out.”

The entire conversation was broadcast on his tank’s external speaker. Galen switched it off. “Halt, third herd.”

Galen removed his helmet and spoke to the infantry Chief.

“You get all that?”

“Yeah. Defense.”

“So where do you want me?”

“Get below the crest of this ridge so we’re not silhouetted and we’ll dig in between you and on either flank. I’ll put an O.P. at the top of the low hill. My CP will be the back deck of your tank.” He made some hand gestures and the infantry platoon began setting their skirmish line.

“Sevin sounded really pissed off,” said Galen.

“Don’t worry, I’ll back you up. We kicked ass.”

The infantry Chief was about to climb off the tank when he slumped over and fell face down on the tank’s back deck. A burst of rail gun and laser fire came from two three, hitting a sniper on the southern ridge across the river, eighteen hundred meters away. A puddle of blood began to ooze from under infantry Chief’s chest. Galen climbed out of his cupola and rolled the Chief over. His chest was a bloody mess, the white bone of the rib cage showing and the sharp edges of busted bone surrounded a cavity large enough to hold a grapefruit. Maybe if he had zipped up the front of his combat vest like he was supposed to instead of wearing it open…

Blood smeared the sides of Galen’s helmet as he put it back on, “Driver, park us in the middle gap of the grunt line.” Galen got a moist towelette from his hygiene gear and cleaned the blood off his helmet and gloves.

Boggs popped his hatch and stood. “Chief, what do you think is up?”

Galen shrugged.

“You’re in charge of this cluster until Sevin gets here.”

“I know.” The radio net was silent. No traffic at all. The situation map was clear, with no enemy unit symbols showing.

Boggs said, “These infantry. Maybe we should find out who’s their new senior man?”

“You do that! Just dismount and do that! Now, Sergeant!” Galen was thinking about the light infantry Chief who had just died, shot, just like that.

Sergeant Boggs returned with a light infantry Sergeant, the mortar crew team leader. Galen removed his helmet.

“I’m not the senior Sergeant, but since I’m out of mortar ammo I got elected for the job of running the platoon.”

“You any good at it?”

“I’ve done it before.” He looked away.

“You have a name?”

“Sergeant Bocock. Call me Bo.”

“We lose anybody else besides your Chief?”

“No, we’re okay.”

“Good. I’ll do a casualty feeder report, get him in a body bag and give the card to higher.”

Sergeant Bocock stared at Galen for a moment. “Listen, Chief, we’re all pretty cranked up. I’ll take care of my platoon. We all know you’re overall in charge of this group, and that’s fine. But Chief Rodebaugh was one of ours. We’ll take care of him. We take care of our own.”

“You don’t under--” Galen stopped. “Okay, Bo... I understand.”

“I’ll be back with you shortly, Chief. I just have a few things to take care of first.”

Galen slumped down in his cupola seat and viewed the situation map. The column of Panzer Brigade vehicles was making its way down the bank of the river at top cross-country speed. He estimated they would arrive in about forty five minutes. Eight tanks, the remainder of the light tank company. They could potentially carry about a hundred passengers, so Galen assumed the rest of the light infantry company would arrive with them. A chill ran down Galen’s spine.

The rest of the light company plus the Major’s command element was approaching. He recovered from the fear of being chastised by a field-grade commander. He began planning the static defense of the area by a reinforced light infantry company and a recon tank company. He put the finishing touches on the plan and sent the data to zero two. The plan was returned with only one minor modification. The Major and his command element weren’t coming.

The markers for two light infantry companies, two dismounted panzer grenadier companies, and the marker for the Major’s command element showed on the situation map. They were working their way down the valley on the opposite side of the river, keeping to the high ridge to the south to avoid contact with the enemy. Galen estimated it would take them the better part of a day to walk as far west as his own position.

“Three three, this is three zero. Over.”

“This is three three.”

“Break out your spade. Dig bermed firing positions here. Over.” Galen marked nine points on the situation map. They were along the ridge of the low hill the unit occupied.

There was a brief pause. “Roger out.”

Three three backed out of the line and parked. The three crewmembers dismounted and unbolted the flat armor plate across the back of the vehicle. They removed two brackets from the vehicle’s tool box and bolted them to the plate. Two troops carried the plate to the front of the tank. The tank commander removed the four front hull drain plugs. The other two crew members held the plate in position while the tank commander ran heavy bolts through the mounting brackets and screwed them into the threaded holes of the hull drains. The Hornet now had a flat dozer blade on the front.

The crew mounted their vehicle. The driver used the hydraulic rear shock absorbers to jack up the back of the tank. The forward tilt put the blade into the ground. Three three began pushing mounds of dirt to create bermed firing positions along the low ridge. After they finished the job the crew removed the spade and bolted it back on the rear of their tank and parked in the firing position on the far right. The sun was overhead and it was starting to get hot.

“Good job, three three.” Galen had his tank park in the spot next to three three and had two three take the one to his left. Sevin’s convoy reached the position. Tanks zero one and zero two parked two hundred meters behind second platoon. First and second platoon occupied the remaining six firing positions on the skirmish line. The internal-secure commo light flashed on Galen’s panel. A free text message.

“Chief Raper, come see me.” It was from Master Sergeant Sevin.

Galen dismounted and walked over to tank zero one and climbed up on the rear deck. Sevin stood in his cupola with his helmet off, so Galen took off his helmet too.

“Chief, have a seat.”

Galen sat on the edge of the turret.

“Chief, I know what you did. You saw a tactical advantage and exploited it. You did a raid on the enemy guns. You got in close enough to drop mortars and got the hell out. But you did screw up one thing. You broke commo with me.” Sevin stared at Galen and waited for a response.

“I... I had to go. I had to think fast.”