Lieutenant Colonel (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 6) (15 page)

Chapter 25

Ryck stepped off the bus with its “Uluru Tours” plastered on its side.  At least it had been a comfortable ride, but Ryck was still struck at the surreal nature of the last few days.  He’d had a penthouse on top of the Radisson, of all things, and their op-order had been given in the Bienotel’s huge conference room, complete with all the bells and whistles of corporate presentations.  Ryck wasn’t sure if he was getting ready to fight or if he was a conference back on Earth.

Standing on the dirt of the ranch that was serving an assembly area, however, was bringing him back to reality.  There was a smell, a feel, no matter on what planet, that seemed to awaken his warrior brain, and it was beginning to kick in.

They still had more than a day to prep.  The vehicles and PICS had to be offloaded and given combat checks, and there would be rehearsals to get the Marines back into fighting mode.  The softness that staying in a luxury hotel created had to be expunged.  The Sylvington mercs would be ready, and so the Marines better be, too.

“Colonel Lysander, the CO wants all commanders at 1500,” a runner told him as he came up.

Without comms set up yet, it was easier—and far more secure—to use runners for the moment than rely on PAs and commercial networks.

“Where is he, Private?”

“Over there, sir, in that tent,” the Marine said, pointing to where a GP tent was being erected.

In all his time in the Marines, Ryck had never seen a tent used outside of schools and some training.  But it made sense.  This was this continent’s rainy season, with huge thunderstorms most afternoons, so if they were going to be here for a day or even longer, it would be better to be able to stay dry.

“Thank you, Private.  I’ll be there,” he said.

“Sergeant Major, can you come here?” he shouted out to Hecs, who was speaking to a handful of SNCOs who had gotten off the bus and were standing off to the side.

“What do you got, sir?” Hecs asked as he walked up.

“Who’s honchoing the offload?”

“Sams is getting the PICS off the trucks, and Top Porter’s doing the op-checks.  Gunner Barnhouse is on top of the C4.  I had a work detail ready to help him, but you know the gunner,” Sams said.

Ryck had to smile.  Gunner Barnhouse was pretty particular on who handled his gear, even if most of it would be distributed out to the Marines soon enough.

“And the armor?”

“Top Emanuel’s on it with his team.  We’ve got the company rep there with him, too, to lend a hand.”

“OK.  Let’s get everyone settled in the best we can before the rains kick in,” he said before looking out past the gaggle of men trying to get organized. 

“What about the militia?  What do you think?” he asked Hecs.

The initial security for the assembly area was being provided by the Freemantle militia, a part-time force that was lightly armed. 

“Well, they ain’t Marines, that’s for sure.  But they seem OK for what they are,” the sergeant major said.

“I want to stick with our plan.  One-in-three is on security.  Don’t push out the militia.  All we need is some sort of political hot potato.  But I want our men on watch, only inside their lines, like we discussed.”

“Roger that.  We’ll have the weapons issued in about 30, I’d be guessing, so we can be in position in about an hour,” Hecs said.

Fort Aragung was still almost 90 klicks away, but the mercs knew exactly where they were.  If Ryck were in their shoes, he might conduct a raid to hit the Marine brigade before things were more settled, and Ryck didn’t trust the militia to provide adequate security.

“That’s good enough.  I’ve got a meeting with brigade at 1500.  Let’s not bother the companies now.  I don’t have much to tell them, anyway.  I’ll meet with the commanders and staff after I get back.”

“Roger that, sir.  I’ll have them ready.”

“Well, I’m feeling naked here.  I’m going to draw my ’99, then walk around until my meeting.”

Ryck would be in his PICS for the battle, so he’d be armed with the M77.  But he couldn’t just stand there in the assembly area unarmed.  It was sacrilege. This wasn’t even a real assembly area, which should provide cover, concealment, and security.  It was just Mr. Bryson’s ranch, a place where they could unload the brigade and get it ready to fight.  It may not matter, but as a Marine, Ryck would feel a lot more comfortable with his M99 at his side.

Chapter 26

Ryck kept a close eye on his display, watching for any updates from the surveillance.  A two-man recon team had eyes on the area, the
Derne
had just about every square centimeter on the continent covered, and each battalion had launched swarms of hummingbirds and dragonflies to cover their AORs.

While the brigade had been moving to Mr. Bryson’s ranch, the mercs had not been complacently sitting still.  A company-sized unit had displaced forward some 45 klicks to twin hills that dominated the highway to Fort Aragung.  The hills were surrounded by the small town of Hester, population 3,516.  Most of the civilians had been herded into the community school, and a large sign declaring that they were inside was placed on the school roof.

The Code of Military Operations tightly regulated the treatment of civilians by belligerent parties, and while the Sylvington mercs were obeying the letter of the law by isolating the civilians, in effect, they were using them as shields.  They knew that by doing this, they had taken the option of some of the suborbital weapons off the table.  The risk of collateral damage was just too great.

They had picked the perfect time to displace as well.  The brigade had been aboard the contracted busses and trucks, and while the brigade’s two Wasps were on station during the movement, without a direct threat to the Marines at the moment, and without knowing what anti-air the mercs had with, them, the Wasps were not deployed forward.  The mercs were able to reach Hester untouched.

Ryck had to give them credit on their execution.  That highlighted to him, though, that this was not some penny-pinching, jumped-up company that didn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.  This was a professional fighting unit, and Ryck had to keep that in mind as they closed with them.

And with them smack in the way, that forward company had to be dealt with.  They couldn’t be bypassed and left to operate to the brigade’s rear.  Assaulting them would also play the Marines’ hand, revealing to the regiment the Marines’ capabilities and general order of battle.

In the modern battlefield, large-scale feints and trickery were difficult to accomplish, but Bert had a plan for the fort itself.  He didn’t want, however, to reveal too much with the small blocking force facing them, so he ordered 2/3 to spearhead the assault on Hester with 2/4 in support.  The Wasps were not to get involved.  The two gunships were a key to the assault on the fort, and they couldn’t be risked. 

Ryck had snorted when he heard that.  On a tactical level, he knew Bert was right.  But it was still disconcerting to know that the Wasps couldn’t be risked, but his Marines could.

For this engagement, Ryck had limited arty—limited in which targets they were allowed to engage—and his own native weapons systems.  That meant his tanks, crew-served weapons, and the Armadillos.  He wasn’t putting any passengers in them, though.  They were strictly for direct fire-support.  If Ryck needed any un-armored Marines, he would call forward a reaction team from 2/4.

Ryck moved forward in the ground-eating stride that closed the distance to the objective.  He was in command, but most of the work had already been done.  Now, it was up to the Marines themselves.  He could adjust as need be, and that would probably be necessary as no plan lasted past the first few minutes of combat, but exerting control would be like fighting the tide.  Once too much momentum built up, it took on a life of its own as the fight got down to the NCOs and riflemen. 

“Crossing Napoleon,” Proctor Christophe passed on the brigade command net. 

The CO could see that for himself, but reporting was still SOP.  Ryck could see the tops of the twin hills ahead, but the trees obstructed his view of the town itself.  They were getting close, however, and he expected to start receiving fire soon.

Sensors were picking out scattered bodies throughout the town, but with the civilians, the Marines couldn’t tell which were mercs and which were the locals.  Because of this, the Marines basically had to become targets and let the firing reveal their enemy.

“Fox-Six, initiate new course now,” Proctor ordered over the command net.

The battalion had been moving forward at a steady pace, all three line companies on line with the tanks between and the tracs trailing.  It looked like a frontal assault, but that was to hopefully fix the mercs in place. When the Three gave Fox the order, the Marines broke out into the 35 KPH sprint the PICS could manage, veering off to the left to bend around the left hill and come up in back of it, cutting off the mercs.  If the mercs engaged the battalion and then tried to escape out the back door, Fox Company would be there to mop them up.   Golf, which had been the middle company, spread out and shifted to the left to fill in the frontage.

Ryck didn’t know how long it would take the mercs to realize what was happening.  Not long, he figured.  But he hoped it would be too late for them to react.  At top speed, it would take Fox just a little more than five minutes to be in position.

A few moments later, most of Echo and one tank platoon reached the low crest of the rise that led back down into the village.  The mercs had thrown no indirect fire rounds at them during their advance to contact, but almost immediately, two kinetic cannons opened up.  One round struck one of the Davises, and Ryck’s heart skipped a beat, but the tank just kept rolling on.  All five tanks engaged the two cannon positions, and the incoming stopped, but whether they had been knocked out or they had fired once before pulling back, Ryck couldn’t tell.

Ryck reached the crest, and now he had a direct view to the village, where the leading edge was only 3,000 klicks away. 

“Start identifying targets,” he passed.

Every building in the village and every known fighting position had already been designated.  The coordinates had been entered into the arty fire direction center.  As soon as a potential target was identified as an enemy position and a request for fire submitted, the arty could respond within the restrictions emplaced by the two governments.

The heavy chatter of a heavy machine gun reverberated across the approach, despite the distance.  The range was too great to do any damage to tanks or PICS, so Ryck knew they were just getting the Marines’ attention.  But for what?

What do they have up their sleeve?
he wondered.

Unlike in flics or war games, the enemy rarely just sat there and simply took what was being thrown at them.  They had plans and plans within plans, too.  A good portion of the Sylvington mercs had probably served as Marines before, or at least in the Brotherhood Host or the Confederation Army, so they had been well-trained.

With the sporadic nature of the fire, one thing was probably clear.  They would be employing energy weapons.  The Marines were probably being targeted right now, and once the range closed, the mercs would open up.

All merc companies had a personality and modus operandi.  The Sylvington mercs were noted for their high-end energy weapons as well as finely timed maneuvers.  They had shown some of that in getting the Hester, and Ryck fully expected to soon feel the brunt of plasma and meson beams reaching out to him.  They were already within range of the weapons, but the mercs would be trying to draw them in closer where their weapons would pack more of a punch.

Waiting too long, though, would be a mistake.  Against tanks, PICS, and even the tracs, the weapons had to wear down the shields before the beams could knock the target out.  Wait too long, and there just wouldn’t be enough time to do that before the tank or PICS Marine returned fire.

As if on cue, the first beam lanced out, enveloping one of the tanks.  Ryck’s display lit up, the beam image converted to a bright red streak.  It was a meson beam, and not a particularly powerful one at that.  Immediately, from behind Ryck, one of the tracs opened up with its 25mm chain gun.  There was a flash, and a small explosion erupted from where the meson cannon had fired.

The energy requirements for meson, and even plasma weapons, were immense, and with some systems, the power packs were a huge vulnerability, much like the flamethrowers of WWII.  The flamethrowers were deadly, effective weapons, but even one round could turn the gas tanks into an inferno, consuming the gunner.

The mercs hadn’t had time to harden their power packs, and it had just cost them a weapon.  Unlike the WWII flamethrowers, though, this cannon was almost certainly remotely operated, so while the mercs had lost the weapon, no merc himself would have been injured.

More lances of energy lit up Ryck’s display.  A call went out to brigade from Golf for supporting arms, and a moment later, the request was denied.

Grubbing hell!  Don’t do this to us!
Ryck pleaded silently.

He couldn’t tell why the request had been denied, but that meant at least one target had to be dug out without endangering any civilians. 

A beam brushed past Ryck, lighting up his display like a Christmas tree.  Ryck immediately bolted to the right, but the beam wasn’t locked on him.  He checked his readout:  he was still at 98%.  He toggled his display over to Çağlar who was advancing five meters to his right.  Çağlar’s avatar showed his shielding was at 100%, so the beam hadn’t even touched him.

“Three, we’ve got an undesignated building to our front, and we’re taking heavy fire.  It’s out of the weapons free zone.  We need a fire mission,” Captain Attleman passed on the command circuit.

How the hell did we miss a freaking building?
Ryck wondered.

He toggled Attleman’s feed but couldn’t see anything.  The captain was not looking at the target.  He could see intense energy blooms on his display, so he toggled over to LCpl Ferrule’s visuals.  Immediately, a two-story house of some sort came into view.  Heat signatures showed at least seven people in the building as well as a rather high-powered plasma gun that was taking the Marine under fire.  Shields were beginning to drop as the Marines fired back with their M77’s and 249s.  Outside of the weapons free zone, heavier weapons could not be employed without clearance.

Ryck took off in a sprint to close the distance, Çağlar on his ass.

“Get that clearance, Proctor!” he ordered.

“Wolfpack-5, prepare to engage the undocumented target at the following coordinates,” he passed to the nearest tank from the building.

He knew he should be letting Attleman, or even Lieutenant Ulovitch, react, but shields were failing, and things were getting critical for more than a few Marines.

“Proctor!”

“FSC doesn’t have eyes on the target.  They want to see it!” the S3 said.

“Slave off of LCpl Ferrule.”

“Sergeant K’opo, I’m at 15%,” a broken transmission reached Ryck.

Ryck’s AI monitored all battalion transmissions, relaying to Ryck those with certain keywords or patterns.  This one fit the profile.  Ryck took a moment to toggle to the caller.  It was Private First Class Henry Cerrones, from Golf Company’s Second Platoon.  Sergeant K’opo was his squad leader.

“Move it Cerrones!” Staff Sergeant Poussey, the platoon sergeant yelled out, interrupting the transmission.  “Get out of the fucking line of fire!”

But Cerrones froze as the beam brought him down to 8, then 6%.

“Proctor!  No fuck it.  Wolfpack-5, fire!” Ryck ordered.

Immediately, the tank put a round into the building.  Five seconds later, a second round impacted needlessly.  A 75mm railgun was a ferocious weapon, easily able to pierce 10cm of durosteel.  The wooden walls offered no resistance.  Instead of merely continuing on and passing through the rear wall, as the round burst through the front wall, the sensors noted the cannon, analyzed it, and detonated the explosive charge.  The cannon and much of the building were destroyed, killing the mercs as well.  The second round was overkill.

Ryck checked on Cerrones.  He was at 3%, at the edge of failure.  His PICS had to be deadlined, and he was no longer combat effective. 

He started to order Cerrones out of action when Lieutenant Ulovitch came on, ordering Cerrones back out of the fight.  The platoon commander had it, and Ryck couldn’t get too focused on one small piece of the fight.  He had to fight the battalion, not a fire team.  He pulled up the entire battalion on his helmet display.  Fox was pulling into position, closing off the back door.  Each vehicle and individual Marine’s avatar were beacons on his display.  It was possible, if not likely, that the Sylvington mercs could break the Marines’ battlefield coding, and that would give away the Marine’s positions, but they undoubtedly had their own surveillance running and knew anyway, and Ryck had to make sure there were no friendly fire incidents. 

Friendly fire had been the bane of armies since time immemorial.  The enemy was usually doing a good enough job at killing men, so friendly fire could turn the tide of battle.  Most Federation energy weapons had fail-safes preventing them from firing at friendly forces without a specific override.  However, this was not the case with most kinetic weapons, and the main weapons for this assault were the tanks’ 75mm rail guns, the tracs 25mm chain guns, and the PICS with either Weapons Pack 1 with the M77 hypervelocity rifles or Weapons Pack 2 with the M249 20mm grenade launcher—and each PICS had the 7.5mm rocket magazine on its shoulder.  Each of these was operator aimed, and none of the rounds had FFD, or Friend-Foe Discrimination.  So it was up to a commander to keep his forces out of each other’s line of fire.