The War for Profit Series Omnibus (94 page)

BOOK: The War for Profit Series Omnibus
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Chapter Eleven

“It’s raining again.” Tad entered the TOC extension and brushed water off the sleeves of his rain jacket with his bare hands. “Chow was cold. I skipped supper.”

Galen stood, put his chow residue in the trash bag by the vestibule. “Good for us. That Mandarin armored division is here to relive us.” Galen pointed at a Mandarin general, a two-star, seated at the table facing the situation screen. Three more Mandarin officers, a Colonel and two Majors, stood to his left. They peered at the screen. “A quick handoff brief, a passage of lines and then we’ll be on our way.”

Tad removed his rain jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. A layer of sawdust covered the dirt floor of the TOC extension, the ground beneath a bit spongy. Tad faced the general and rendered a proper hand salute, “Sir, at your convenience.”

The general stood and returned the salute, nodded. “The sooner the better. It will be dark in an hour.” The general sat.

Galen grabbed some fold-up chairs from inside the track and set them up, gestured for the other Mandarin officers to take their seats. They sat. Tad said, “Allow me to direct your attention to the screen.”

Galen moved to the display control and switched to a theatre overlay.

Tad said, “During the past two weeks, the Mosh have managed to capture more than two thirds of Cherry Fork. Mandarin regular infantry units have done a fine job of defense, but to control losses, have been trading ground for Mosh casualties. Your Third Infantry Corps has reached its breaking point and has to be relived. Eighth Infantry Corps is in position to re-take the city, with your support.”

The general said, “Today is the day.”

Tad said, “To the south, the Mosh have halted forward movement and have concentrated their offensive operations on attacking Cherry Fork. I think their aim is to pull Mandarin into a slow, grinding battle of attrition, forcing Mandarin to send all its reserve forces to fight over this city. On a tactical level, the Mosh seem foolish to keep attacking here. But on a strategic level it makes sense to bleed you dry. The only way to counter that strategy is through conservation of forces, make them lose more than they expected while minimizing your own losses. So far so good, but the Mosh are learning.”

The General said, “I understand.”

The Mandarin Colonel stood, pointed at the screen. Galen zoomed the map in on the area around Cherry Fork. The Mandarin Colonel said, “Our corps artillery will begin a general bombardment of the area west of the city, and then our air defense assets will lock down the airspace above Cherry Fork. Our first armored brigade will then advance along a westerly axis along the southern edge of the city while our second armored brigade circles wide around the north. Our heavy tank and assault gun companies will push directly into town, accompanying the 97
th
infantry division. We’re counting on you to provide supporting fires from your current positions, and while that is happening, our third tank brigade and armored infantry battalion will move up directly behind your positions. As soon as we’ve encircled the town and crushed meaningful resistance, our units will relieve yours. From there, your responsibilities in this operation are complete.”

Galen stood, waved for Tad to take his place at the display controller. Galen said, “Gentlemen, it looks like a good plan.”

The General stood, Galen saluted, the General returned the salute, and the Mandarin officers left the TOC extension.

Tad said, “I’m not too sure about this.”

Galen said, “The Mosh are tired of butting their heads up against us. They’ll be glad to see us go. I doubt they’ll do anything fancy until we leave. Besides, we’ll have the Interceptors circling nearby to cover our withdrawal.”

“You didn’t tell the Mandarins that.”

“None of their business.” Galen stood and went outside. The rain was torrential, like someone was holding a garden hose directly above his head. But it was warm rain, just warm enough to make a person sweat if they wore a rain jacket. Many troops didn’t, chose to just get wet. Galen was one of them. He climbed up on his command tank and lifted the hatch and dropped down in quickly and closed the hatch. The climate control vents circulated warm, dry air over him and gave him a bit of a chill. Soon his uniform would be dry enough so that he could put on his combat suit. He’d have to step out on the turret to do that, decided to wait until the rain slacked up.

The artillery of two Mandarin infantry corps fired. First they fired an assortment of chaff and metallic flake rounds, to interfere with Mosh sensors. Then they fired volleys of point target rounds, along with dual purpose and high explosives. And smoke, good old fashioned smoke rounds. Plus countermeasure warheads, to make Mosh sensors and detectors unreliable. The countermeasure rounds may have been unnecessary. The most effective exchanges of the past two weeks had been mostly dumb bombs or direct fire weapons, as each side quickly learned how to defeat more sophisticated weaponry with countermeasures. The bombardment lasted half an hour and then began again after a ten minute pause. The second bombardment was less intense, with fewer known targets. There were also larger no-fire areas, caused by the forward movement of Mandarin armor.

The exhausted artillery of Third Infantry Corps had withdrawn during the lull, the artillery units of the Eighth Infantry Corps taking their old positions. The first tank brigade made its way beyond the southern edge of Cherry Fork and met only light resistance. It turned north and made a line, the tanks parking in the hundreds of available bomb craters. The artillery masked them in a dense cloud of smoke and metal flake. The second tank brigade circled wide around the north of the ruined city, a barrage of artillery leading them along. They moved far enough to link up with their first tank brigade and also went to ground.

Some Mosh armor came from the mountains and tried to cross the twenty five kilometers of open ground to reach the city, but the tanks of the Jasmine Panzer Brigade picked off their lead elements. They retreated.

The 97
th
infantry division pushed into the city to the right of the exhausted Mandarin defenders and cleared the outer edge of the city first, taking full advantage of the fire support offered by the first and second tank brigades. They worked their way around, block by block, to leave only a single city block in the middle of the city for the Mosh. Then they asked the Mosh to surrender, received an adamant refusal, and then let their supporting assault guns blast through the city block. Then an engineering company came through and buried any openings, bulldozed rubble into them, and even poured concrete into the storm drains. They fought all through the night and into the next day and took thirty percent casualties. There were two Mandarin infantry companies that were completely wiped out. But compared to the one hundred percent losses suffered by the Mosh in the city, it seemed like a bargain.

Near sunset, the Mandarin third tank brigade pulled forward to occupy the positions of the Jasmine Panzer Brigade. Galen waited near the egress point and watched as the various convoys of his units left the area. First there came a long line of wheeled vehicles, nearly six hundred cargo trucks, a consolidated Brigade TRAINS. All the expendable cargo and supplies had been off-loaded and left for the Mandarins earlier, to make room on the trucks to carry Capellan Marines. The trucks strained under the load, their cargo beds stuffed to capacity with Marines in medium battle armor, standing room only.

He saw that his unit was near its breaking point. Diodes and capacitors and magnetic rails and electronic modules worn out, loose track tension, some vehicles short-tracked to remain mobile despite the loss of an idler or road wheel. The first armored convoy was the Hellcat tank battalion, nearly a third of its tanks pulled by another, tow bars connecting them. The end of that convoy had an armored recovery vehicle towing two tanks, one right behind the other.

The Stallion tanks were not faring much better. There was one tank missing its turret but it was still drivable, being used to provide power to another tank through an electrical cable connected between them. The drivers were cautions. And a wheeled wrecker, it pulled two flak panzers behind it. All the tanks and assorted vehicles bristled with Capellan Marines hitching rides on top. It was slow going, withdrawing in such a state. No more than forty kilometers an hour, and slower at other times. Just as well, that was the top speed of the
Ajax tanks anyway. The Ajax were 95 ton monsters, lumbering dinosaurs without their lifters installed. Galen was grateful for the paved roads. Cross-country travel was not an option for that mess, even if it had not been raining.

The Interceptors circled high above and the helos patrolled up and down the line, providing cover for the task force. Last in line was the Mechanized infantry battalion, ready to block any enemy attack from the rear. Their vehicles, too, were overloaded, Marines riding on top, APCs pulling trailers or other APCs. The only vehicles left ‘naked’ were the four flak panzers near the very end, charged with stopping any artillery or air attacks that might threaten the convoy. Galen rode in his Lion tank, the very last vehicle. Turret to the rear, he stood in the cupola looking back.

The convoy rode like that for eighteen hours, all the way back to the Jasmine Panzer Brigade compound. As they entered the main gate, Galen noticed that the area was eerily unscathed by the war; except for some overgrown landscaping, everything was just as he’d left it. The capitol of Mandarin, Mandarin City, was to the west. Galen noticed that a couple of its taller buildings were missing from the skyline.

He told Trooper Bier, “Back it up to the building’s main entrance, just like before.”

Bier backed up and parked the tank two meters from the main entrance doors of the Brigade HQ building, facing out across the parking lot. Galen then said, “Power down and get some rest.”

Bier and Wine dismounted, walked toward their barracks with their bags slung over their shoulders. It was 0936 hours. Galen put out the word that command and staff call would be at 0700 in the conference room, climbed down off his tank, entered the building and made his way to his office. He removed his war gear and his boots, stretched out on the couch on the left and fell right to sleep.

Chapter Twelve

The next morning, Galen used the facilities in the HQ building’s mini-gym to clean himself up. On the way back to his office he saw Tad padding along the hallway in a bath robe and shower shoes. Tad said, “Morning boss.”

Galen said, “Ready for command and staff?”

Tad nodded. “Spike’s all over it. Breakfast?”

Galen checked the time: 0544 hours. “Sure. Six?”

“I’ll stop by your office.”

Galen had his towel wrapped around his waist and was barefoot. He made a mental note to get himself a robe and some shower shoes. He went into his office and opened his duffle bag and dumped its contents out on the floor. He found a dry set of combat coveralls sealed in a zip lock bag, complete with undergarments. He looked but didn’t see dry boots, looked at his boots from the day before and brushed them off. Presentable. He dressed and sat at his desk and fired up the terminal and re-engaged its access. Nothing much, no comms beyond Mandarin space. The Mosh had it locked down pretty tight.

Tad knocked. Galen stood and stepped into the hallway and walked with Tad to the chow hall. It was serving field rations but Galen didn’t complain. Four walls and a roof, that was luxury compared to the field. A sign stated that class-A chow would commence tomorrow.

Tad said, “Feels good to be back in garrison.”

Galen flexed his fingers. They felt a little rubbery. “I’m adjusting back to civilization one step at a time.”

“Sleep in your office?”

“Yep.” Galen sipped his milk.

“Me too.” Tad got up and returned with creamer for his coffee.

Galen said, “I got nowhere else to stay. Quarters stuffed full of Marines.”

Tad said, “Fine with me. I like my office.”

Galen looked up from his feed tray. “
Lake house!”

Tad said, “That’s off-base.”

Galen said, “When things slow down we’ll gather up about fifty of the most senior leaders from the Marines and the Brigade and have a barbeque, at my lake house. Blow off some steam.”

“Couple of weeks maybe. Lots of work to do.” Tad picked the last few crumbs of scrambled egg from his tray.

Galen said, “That’s good, keep these guys busy so they don’t have time to wonder what a gun tastes like.”

Tad said, “Two weeks of hard labor, that’ll suppress their whacko urges long enough for their minds to get right.”

Galen stood, picked up his tray. Tad followed him out of the chow hall and back to the HQ building. Tad split off to step into the conference room to help Spike set up. Galen went back to his office and changed his socks. His boots were drying out slowly. He found Spike’s tentative agenda for the meeting and looked it over, printed hard copy on a single page. Then he dug around in his desk drawer for an ink stick. They were all non-functional, dried out from lack of use, so he grabbed a pencil and sharpened it with his bayonet. Prepared, he stood and went to the conference room.

He strode in and said, “Keep your seats,” and sat at the head of the table. He looked around and saw sixteen battalion commanders and seven leaders of specialized units. Twenty three field grade officers. Some leaders were alert, fresh. Others…

He stared at a battalion commander halfway down the left side of the table. The commander was hunched forward, hands balled into fists one above the other, resting on the table’s surface. His chin rested on his fists and his beard was unkempt. A scraggly five-day beard. Dirt smudged the tip of his nose. His eyes were closed tightly.

Galen said, “Lieutenant Colonel Halverson, am I boring you?”

“Nosir.” He leaned back in his chair.

Galen saw another head down on the table, planted on crossed forearms. Galen leaned over to Colonel Baek and said in a low voice, “Be the last one out, and stay behind the formation to police up stragglers.” Baek nodded.

Galen stood and said, “On your feet! Stand up! Follow me outside, to the quadrangle!”

The leaders followed Galen outside. He stood at attention and bellowed, “Fall in!”

The leaders formed up in four ranks to make a platoon-sized formation. Colonel Baek stood behind them, giving directions in a sharp voice to those who seemed confused.

Galen said, “Some of my vocal commands may be unfamiliar to you but you’ll figure it out. Colonel Baek will echo my commands, translated into Marine talk. The rest of you should have no problem. Although you didn’t all attend the same military academies, you all did take a pre-commissioning course with the Brigade. Open ranks, march!”

The formation opened up, the interval between ranks doubled.

“Half right, face! Front leaning rest position, move! Do some pushups!”

Colonel Baek stepped into the group and singled out leaders who seemed to lack motivation, knelt next to them and made corrections.

Galen paced the length of the group as he spoke, “What we need is discipline and teamwork. We spent less than a month down range and you think that’s an excuse to kick it and act like a band of pirates or something. Wrong answer! Roll over onto your backs, do some flutter kicks!”

Galen stopped, stared. Colonel Baek was doing a good job of encouraging the leaders to participate. Galen said, “You think combat experience makes you a professional? Training, discipline and teamwork makes you a professional, and that is what wins battles. Until now, half of you had never been in a real gunfight before and you did just fine. Combat experience should not be a training event. If you learned anything in combat it just means you weren’t trained well enough. We will not rely on the enemy to serve as our primary trainer. Recover! That means stand up. Good. Half-left, face!”

The formation was now standing at attention facing Galen. “Closed ranks, march!”

The formation closed back up. Galen said, “Combat experience is a spiritual matter, a severe emotional experience. Fine. You are all grown up and you now have a better appreciation for proper training, discipline and teamwork. And I am going to get back to the training base right now with some drill and ceremonies. Right face! Forward march!”

Galen marched them around the quadrangle, kept trying more complicated movements. Smoked them when they screwed up, tried again. Soon the group performed each step correctly, fell into a rhythm where they moved as a team. Finally they learned to properly execute a counter-column movement, after jacking it up three times. Satisfied, Galen halted them near the entrance of the HQ building. He’d drilled them for nearly an hour.

He said, “Hopefully we won’t need to do this again any time soon. You will go clean yourselves up and make yourselves presentable and come right back here, alert and ready to participate, in not less than one hour, for a proper command and staff call. Fall out!”

The leaders dispersed. Tad grinned at Galen and Spike gave a somewhat dirty look. Galen winked at them and they turned away and went inside. Colonel Baek stepped up to Galen and said, “That was incredible.”

Galen said, “That was necessary to set the tone. It will save lives.”

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