The War for Profit Series Omnibus (81 page)

“Yessir.” Stovall put his helmet back on and walked to his battle car and sat in the driver’s seat.

The Centurion arrived in his command skimmer and dismounted, met by the two platoon leaders of his Century. They briefed him and then five Stallion medium tanks arrived. The tank platoon leader dismounted and joined the Legion officers.

She removed her helmet and said, “Sir, Chief Brock, Second Platoon of Bravo Company, Stallion Tank Battalion.” Her bob of red hair was matted to her head with sweat.

“Welcome,” said the Centurion. He stood a full two heads taller than her. “We can certainly use your help.”

She looked up as she spoke. The Centurion was taller and wider than his platoon leaders, and they were taller and wider than the squad leaders who stood nearby, hovering just close enough to listen in on the conversation. “Certainly. Have you worked with armored support before?”

“No.”

She ran the fingers of her left hand through her hair and shook it out, wondered if Legion rank was based mostly on height and width. “Okay. It’s basically your show. Use us for mobile cover and point out targets you want destroyed. And as a favor to me and my crews, try to protect our flanks and rears from enemy antitank weapons when possible.”

“Certainly. The enemy has demonstrated the ability to scramble comms. Do you have a solution for that?”

“Our armor shields our electronics from interference on the inside, but to talk with the outside we have a comms box at the rear of our tanks. It’s a speaker/microphone. Just push the big button at its base and we’ll be able to talk to you that way.”

“I’ll spread the word.” The Centurion then checked his chronometer. “Almost time. Will two squads per tank be enough support?”

She nodded. “Yes. But remember, we’re supporting you. What they taught me in armor school is when tanks support infantry, you’re winning. When the infantry has to support the tanks, it’s time to reconsider your strategy.”

The Centurion said, “I’m not sure I understand.”

Chief Brock rolled her shoulders. “Sir, you go in like you’re doing the same thing as if there were no tanks, and then use the tanks to make that job easier, faster. Does that make sense?”

His face brightened. “That does make sense.”

She added, “When a squad wants to breach a wall to clear a building, they can have a tank blast a hole so they can get in from an unexpected angle. Or they can have us park next to a building so they can climb up and get onto the roof or into the second floor more easily. If that’s what you want to do, I mean. Totally up to you. Not saying how you should do your job.”

“And me yours.” The Centurion said.

She winked, put on her helmet. “But you should. We’re here for you.”

“In that case, I want your platoon to go in first and establish a secure area. There was flak gun fire from the right and I need to be sure that is neutralized first. My Century will then move in and push ahead and stay ahead of you from there on out.”

She gave a thumbs-up.

He returned the gesture, looked around and checked his chronometer. “Move out.”

She turned away and climbed back into her tank. The Legion platoon and squad leaders jogged away separately, each to his platoon and the Centurion got back in his command skimmer.

Chief Brock connected her helmet to comms and said, “One Two, Two Two, Three Two, Four Two, this is Two Zero, over.”

“One Two.”

“Two Two.”

“Three Two.”

“Four Two.”

She said, “Roger. This is how it looks right now. We’re going into the craters, then up the other side. Neutralize a threat to the right, and then forward another fifty meters and stand by for the infantry to come up behind us. From there, it’s their show.”

A series of double-clicks from the comms of the other tank commanders.

“Move out.”

The tank platoon pulled forward, down into the gashes leading into the three biggest craters. The tank on the right flank raised its sensor mast, pulled up to the edge of the crater rim and waited. Then Chief Brock analyzed the images from the tank on her right flank and moved ahead, in front of her platoon, laser cannon turned to the right and brought up to its maximum charge of twelve. Then her tank drove forward, gun laid on the window where the suspected flak gun was concealed. Her gunner fired, blasted a two meter wide hole, larger than the window opening it had just destroyed. The driver backed up immediately, back down into the crater.

A secondary explosion rocked the building, debris spraying out from the hole in the wall. Orange flames inside, black smoke billowing out. The front of the four story building collapsed, its insides revealed. The tanks leapt forward, the two on the right spraying the building with coax and cupola machine gun fire. Enemy soldiers inside the building were like ants in a farm, the spray of bullets putting them down. A few, half a dozen maybe, jumped and ran and got away. The two tanks in the center held back to watch the backs of the other three, and the tank on the left flank pivoted left and kept its gun swinging left to right, looking for targets that never appeared. Its commander stood in his cupola for a moment and looked for threats, then dropped back down and closed his hatch.

The Legion soldiers came forward and huddled behind the tanks for cover. The tanks crept forward. Then Brock’s gunner sent a charge eight laser bolt into the alley-side wall of the ground floor of a sturdy brick two-story building on the left. It blasted a meter-wide hole near the center of the first floor, half a meter above street level. The tank on the left pulled forward and gave cover so that the Legion soldiers could safely come forward and enter the hole. Inside, the Legion troops made short work of the stunned defenders. The Legion soldiers fought their way to the roof and set up a machine gun and began firing on the three story building across the street.

The tank on the right flank turned its turret to the rear and moved forward and crashed through the main entrance doors of the building and then backed out. A second tank moved past the opening to provide cover. Legion troops swarmed into the building. After a couple of minutes, Legion troops were on the roof. One tossed a grenade down into the alley behind the building; a fire team shot their assault rifles down into the alley and killed a squad of Batistian soldiers huddled there. Then Chief Brock’s tank moved up the street and rubbed its left flank against a one-story building that was part of a row of shops. Legion troops climbed up on her tank and onto the roof. They punched a hole in the flat roof with a breaching charge and dropped down inside. A Batistian soldier ran into the street and Brock’s gunner gave him a back full of coax rounds, cut him in half. He fell in two pieces.

The tanks in the rear came forward, their infantry done with the task of clearing the first two buildings. The tanks moved side by side down the middle of the street to get past the other three tanks. Then they veered to the curbs, each putting one tread on the sidewalk on either side of the street. The Legion troops used the tanks for cover and then moved ahead of the tanks to clear more buildings. Resistance stopped and the mission changed to simple search.

The Centurion pulled up in his command skimmer and called a halt when the group had made its way into the city more than two kilometers. Brock ordered her tanks to park in the intersection of two broad streets. They formed a circle facing out. The Legion troops made their way in to fill the perimeter gaps between the tanks.

Chief Brock checked her auxiliary status screen. The citadel was five hundred meters to the West. The main attack force, seven Legion Centuries supported by the rest of the Stallion tank battalion, had reached it and was preparing to breach its main gate.

Stovall drove his battle car forward and parked inside the perimeter. The soldiers inside the perimeter were performing first aid and the Centurion supervised triage. Once the wounded were stabilized, the two platoon leaders loaded injured soldiers onto Stovall’s car. The Centurion told him to take the casualties to the rear.

Stovall drove his battle car out of the area, carrying three dead Legion soldiers and eleven other soldiers too injured to stay in the fight. Stovall drove, drove as smoothly as his driving skills would allow. When he reached the breach in the wall the Century’s aid station was there and in the final stages of setting up. Medics unloaded wounded soldiers and carted them into the aid station on gurneys.

And then the message came, “End of Mission. The city of
Bristol has surrendered.” Stovall took off his helmet and loosened his armor and leaned back in his seat and relaxed.

Chief Brock put her crews into a tactical sleep plan and sat high in her cupola and watched for nearly two hours as a parade of disarmed enemy prisoners of war, hands bound behind their backs, walked past her position. They came from the citadel, walked past her perimeter and on towards the same break in the city wall she had come through earlier. They were escorted by the Brigade’s Light Infantry battalion.

The Jasmine Panzer Brigade’s Command and Staff Call was held in a pole barn on a ranch that was five kilometers west of
Bristol. Galen stood at the head of the table, a table hastily assembled from sheets of fiberboard placed on saw horses. They all stood. They didn’t have chairs.

Galen said, “Yesterday was a good day,
Bristol surrendered. Now we take pause and prepare to continue on into the next phase of our campaign. My concerns are getting back up to strength and implementing lessons learned at all levels. However, my primary concern is moving forward when it best suits our purposes. We are gathered here today to figure that out. What are your concerns?”

Tribunus Tribula said, “Momentum. We dealt them a significant blow and we should push on while the enemy is still stunned.”

Karen said, “I agree with you in principle but my logistics aren’t prepared to support a significant amount of forward movement at this time. The port is a shambles and the route from port to here has not yet been secured. This will take time.”

The Public Affairs officer said, “The people of the city are indifferent to our presence for now, but there is always the threat of radical elements, or just plain old criminals, who would do harm to our supply convoys through the city.”

“Certainly.” Chief Engineer Scalama said, “We’re clearing the lanes, removing all structures and buildings within a hundred meters of the main supply route and constructing a five meter high wall along each side. The area of concern is eight kilometers of the route that passes from the port, through the city to its western gate. We’ll have that done in three weeks at the most. But for the route to remain secure there has to be regular patrols along the outside of the walls. Otherwise, the walls just become cover and concealment for the enemy.”

Tad said, “The Northern Republic Navy has sent its Marines ashore and they are in the process of occupying
Bristol. I’ll coordinate for them to provide security for that part of the route.”

Tribunus said, “This may not be the time or place for my question, but it’s a question eating away at the back of my mind. I am curious why the Northern Republic Navy is so accommodating, so supportive of our efforts. I’m not complaining, but something just doesn’t add up.”

Galen said, “Politics. The Northern Republic is a Democracy. Famous generals and war heroes could become political opponents for the President now in office. By hiring us for this campaign, their President effectively weakened the political standing of their general officers. But their Navy and the Admiral in command of it has a real opportunity. He will do whatever he can to support us and facilitate our success because every action he takes to help us gives him more political capitol. He can use that when he presents his case to the voters as to why he should be their next duly elected president.”

Tribunes said, “And their current President allows this?”

“Yes.” Galen smiled. “Their current President is serving his third six-year term and three terms is the limit. The Admiral in charge of the surface fleet supporting us is in the same political party and their current President wants to hand the Government over to him when his term expires.”

Tribula shook his head. “Sorry I asked. Okay, back on topic. My line units are back up to full numerical strength, but since I pushed my entire casualty replacement Century forward to fill vacancies, I would like a pause of four weeks. Enough time for more casualty replacements from Langston to arrive to replenish my casualty replacement Century, and enough time for my forward units to train their casualty replacements.”

Galen said, “That is very reasonable. I’m willing to pause for as long as six weeks. After that, it’s a ‘come as you are’ party. As Tribunus Tribula stated earlier, momentum is important. Chief Pescador, you’ve been quiet. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

Pescador unfolded his arms and looked up at the faces around the table. “Well sir, I…” After a ten second pause he said, “I like it so far. I look forward to greater things in the future.”

Galen said, “You were very enthusiastic about coming along on this contract. I’d like to believe I’ve given you ample opportunity to enjoy yourself.”

Pescador’s face brightened. “Oh yes sir! It’s been awesome! I was just lost in thought there for a moment, I apologize. Yessir, me and my people are having a great time. It’s more than I’d ever hoped for.”

Galen looked around the table and said, “He’s not a people person, but I assure you, there is no one more capable of being our fire support officer.” Smiles and assenting grunts and nods from the assembled leaders. “That brings us to our next topic, recognition. Chief Scalama, I have already seen the write-up for your troop. Could you share that with us?”

“Sir, you have all come to expect miracles from my engineers as the standard, but I have to point out the actions of Sergeant Kim. He was in charge of the dig-out for the tunnels that allowed the
Ajax tanks to destroy Bristol’s main gate and power coupling with direct fires. Before digging commenced, he crawled atop both hills and made precise measurements to ensure the tunnels were aligned correctly to allow the shots. He was under no obligation to do it, and he risked detection and exposure to enemy fire while doing so. He risked his life, sir, and without being told.”

Galen said, “Chief Pescador, your side of that story?”

Pescador said, “Sir, I’d used satellite survey and database maps to come up with the data for the engineers. They could have just gone with that, that’s all they were told to do. But Corporal Kim wanted to make absolutely sure and it’s a good thing he did. The two tunnels dug on the second hill would have been half a mil off. It would have made targeting the power coupling with direct fire impossible. I’d of had to target the coupling indirectly, and the coupling was well protected from over head fire, designed to withstand shots from warships in space. We could have breached the wall, but it would have been necessary to send in ground troops to attack the power coupling. Were it not for Kim’s actions, I believe we’d still be outside Bristol conducting a very long siege. He saved hundreds, maybe thousands, of lives.”

“Okay,” said Galen, “that’s the kind of stories I’m looking for. Get down in the bushes and find out who are heroes are and I’ll get busy signing off on their awards. We’re near the end of my agenda so we’ll wrap this up soon. Anything else before we move on to tactical matters?”

Sevin said, “We’ve got one very important thing to discuss.”

Galen said, “The floor is yours.”

“Morale, Welfare and Recreation. If we’re going to sit tight for a month and a half, our troops are going to get really bored and start acting up.”

The Public Affairs Officer said, “What could we do in such a short time?”

Sevin said, “For us up here at the top with the eagle-eye views of what’s going on, six weeks is a very short time and we have plenty of work to keep us busy. But look at it from the bottom up. We have troops who need a break. They just fought and they need to feel alive.”

The Public Affairs officer said, “I don’t suppose—”

Sevin interrupted her, “No you wouldn’t. Your husband is on this contract as well. Many of you are working with old friends and sweethearts every day. The troops, the younger ones, they don’t have that luxury. They need some recreation.”

“And what do you have in mind?”

“A day off. Three days, maybe, if we can swing it.”

“Doing what?” The Public Affairs Officer put her hands on her hips.

Sevin held his left hand up, thumb extended. “Eat in a restaurant,” he extended his left index finger, “Drink in a bar,” he extended his left middle finger, “spend time on the beach,” and then closed his fist, pumped suggestively, “and have high-performance recreational sex with a civilian they don’t know and will never see again.” He looked around and said, “All you prudes and married folks can skip that last part. Maybe you can browse a shopping center or something.”

A murmur arose. Galen said, “Everybody shut up. Sevin has a point. We’ll work this out. Public Affairs, MWR is your lane. But I’ll give you the Chaplain and Sevin and you’ll find their assistance invaluable. Sevin.”

“Yessir?”

“Lieutenant Colonel Sevin, I am fully aware that you outrank Captain Melissa Scott in more ways than I can count on fingers and toes, but from now until we leave the general area of
Bristol, you are working for her. Captain Scott.”

“Yessir?”

“Sevin has considerable expertise. If you can’t come up with a successful MWR program, I’ll have to assume you have a difficult time making the best use of your subordinates’ talents. Are we clear?”

“Yessir.”

“Good.” Galen folded his arms across his chest. “Memorial services for our fallen comrades. The Chaplain has them schedule for tomorrow. The Legion will be on the perimeter facing out so we’re secure. One hundred percent participation. Mandatory. Day after tomorrow, we’re on security, on the perimeter facing out so the Legion can do their memorial ceremonies. Got it?” Galen looked around, made eye contact with every leader present. “Good. If there’s nothing else, you’re dismissed.”

Lieutenant Colonel Day raised her hand. “Sir.”

“Yes.” Galen looked toward her. “What is it?”

“With Sevin occupied with other duties, will the task force dissemble?”

“Well?” Galen looked around for the Cavalry squadron commander. “Delgado?”

Lieutenant Colonel Delgado said, “We should keep it together. It’s very effective.”

Galen pointed at Day. “You’re now in command of that task force, to include the recon company. I don’t think Sevin will be coming back to you because I have other jobs planned for him. Go ahead and appoint a new commander for your light tank battalion.”

She smiled, “Thank you, sir.”

“Anyone else?” Galen stood with his hands on his hips. Silence. “Dismissed.”