Lieutenant, page 10
part #2 of Dirigent Mercenary Corps Series
If we’re going to be here much longer, the men need to dig in better, Lon thought, but that was not something that called for immediate action on his part. The men would improve their positions little by little, as they got the chance, without any encouragement beyond the bullets coming their way. Another glance at his mapboard showed Lon that Charlie Company was making progress. They had gone farther west than he had expected before making the turn north.
They should be getting into the fray any minute now, Lon thought. Once the Belletiene commander became aware of Charlie, something should happen, fairly quickly. Almost two-thirds of a circle would have closed around the Belletieners then.
“Fairly quickly” was a good estimate. The action picked up less than a minute later. There was considerable gunfire and the explosions of a dozen or more grenades, all close together, well off to Lon’s left. Almost simultaneously there was a marked decrease in the fighting in front of Alpha and Bravo Companies, and over toward the Calypsan army.
“We’re pushing forward in two minutes,” Orlis said a couple of minutes later. “I want two skirmish lines forty yards apart. We’ll take as much as Belletiene lets us like that, switch to fire and maneuver if they try to make a stand. Nolan, pull your fourth platoon back as company reserve again, fifty yards behind the second skirmish line. You stay with them. If I have to send them in anywhere, I’ll want you to lead them.”
Two minutes was not a lot of time. The two men sent back from fourth platoon had to be recalled. Orders had to be passed to the rest. Fourth platoon would stay in place as the skirmish lines started forward, then consolidate behind them. Little more than the length of a soccer field separated Alpha Company from the enemy. How great that distance would feel to the men when they moved forward would depend on how vigorous the opposition was.
The first skirmish line got up and started moving slowly, six to eight yards between men. They fired as they advanced, and the second line of men provided covering fire from their positions—carefully, to avoid inflicting friendly casualties.
The Belletieners responded. There were casualties in the first DMC line. The men switched to standard fire and maneuver tactics, half a squad moving forward to the next cover while the rest covered them, then switching jobs. That had to slow the advance, but it was safer.
Lon moved to where fourth platoon had assembled—the men down on the ground, not exposing themselves uselessly. “Wouldn’t it be better to get all of us in this now?” Wil Nace asked Lon when the lieutenant settled to the ground next to him.
“Not my decision, Wil,” Lon said. “Captain thinks this is better, just in case the enemy has any surprises for us. They’ve got people we haven’t accounted for, somewhere.”
The second skirmish line started forward, holding their pace down to that of the line in front of them, using fire and maneuver tactics as well, even though they were drawing less fire than the first line.
Then, suddenly, the incoming fire stopped almost completely. The two skirmish lines continued on as they had been for another thirty seconds. Only when it became apparent that the enemy had given up this fight did they start moving forward without the interruptions of men leapfrogging each other. There were no more than a dozen Belletiener soldiers still firing toward the two advancing companies of 2nd Battalion—covering the withdrawal of the rest of their force from the pocket.
“Captain?” Lon spoke only the one word.
“Hang tight,” Orlis replied. “Steady advance. Remind your men to be on the outlook for booby traps and land mines. Belletiene has had time to cook up a lot of nasty surprises for us. And have your people watch for Delta on the right. They’re between you and the Calypsan army.”
“Right. Should I move my fourth platoon in?”
Orlis hesitated before he replied. “Yes, but not too close. I want that platoon back from the positions that Belletiene vacated, just in case we have to move you in a hurry. This isn’t over yet, not by a long shot.”
10
There was, finally, time for a few minutes rest for Alpha Company. Charlie Company was following the withdrawing Belletiener force, harassing them, not giving them an opportunity to stop and regroup. Bravo and Delta were on the perimeter. There was a certain amount of confusion as the Dirigenters and the Calypsan army met for the first time. Colonel Flowers had been in radio contact with the commander of the Calypsan force defending Oceanview, and Delta’s commanding officer and one of his platoons had been in more direct contact with the nearest elements of the local defenders. But coordinating actions brought complications. The respite after dawn provided time for the commanders to sort things out.
Four men in Lon’s platoons had been wounded. Lon took a few minutes to talk with them. None of the injuries was serious enough to require time in a trauma tube. Injection of molecule-sized medical repair units to boost the victims’ basic medical maintenance systems sufficed. No bullets had to be removed; that would have required a trauma tube.
“Check on remaining ammo,” Lon told the platoon sergeants. “The captain is trying to find out when we can expect a supply drop, or if we can get anything from the Calypsans. They use the same rifles we do, so the cartridges should be interchangeable.”
Ivar Dendrow laughed softly at the note of skepticism in Lon’s voice. “If the rounds work in their rifles, they’ll work in ours, Lieutenant. They just might not work the same way, if they’ve messed with the specs too much. You know, weight of the slug, weight and type of propellant.”
“If they’ve got ammo to spare, we’ll be glad to have it, even if we can’t put three shots in a ten-inch cluster with it,” Weil Jorgen said. “They should have plenty. The way I understand it, Calypso’s been gearing up for this for years.”
“That’s what they tell me,” Lon said. “Just find out what we’ve got ourselves. If the colonel or Captain Orlis comes up with a job for us, I want to be able to tell whether or not we’ve got the munitions to do it.” Both sergeants acknowledged the order. “Tell the men to grab a bite to eat while they can,” Lon added. “I don’t think we’re going to get time for sleep, but food should help.”
Lon moved a few yards from where fourth platoon was resting. He sat with his back to a tree, leaned his head against it, and closed his eyes. There was always a reaction after the flood of epinephrine, after tension and danger. As soon as there was relative calm, the body tried to purge itself of excessive levels of the hormone. The body’s medical maintenance system worked to mediate the flow and ebb to avoid dangerous extremes.
I should eat now, while I’ve got a minute free, Lon thought. Nobody’s going to come along and order me to eat. When he first joined the company as a cadet, that had happened with annoying frequency. He had been unable to fathom why everyone seemed so preoccupied with getting him fed regularly.
Sleep would be better … But sleep would have to wait. Lon forced his eyes open. Eating would help him stay alert for a few minutes—for the duration of the meal, at least. He slid out of his pack’s straps and opened it to pull out the first battle ration packet he put his hand on. He ate slowly, methodically, paying little attention to what he was doing. Five minutes after he finished, he could not have said what he had eaten.
There were interruptions. He received the reports on ammunition from his sergeants. Third platoon was shorter than fourth—they had seen more action. When Captain Orlis called to ask about ammunition, Lon had the information ready. It was worth a thin smile. Anticipated that one, Lon thought.
He leaned back again. He could afford to close his eyes for a few minutes and rest—doze, if not actually sleep. It was something most veterans learned, to take even a few minutes whenever they could. Save energy, do what little he could to replenish it. Lon quickly started to nod off. His head would slide toward one side or the other and he would start, then drift back to the same state … until the next time. If I could just sleep for ten minutes, he thought during one interval of near alertness. Be good for another twelve hours then.
It did not matter that he had not been awake for all that many hours, or that he had slept as much as he could during the voyage from Dirigent. His body and mind wanted sleep now. After several failures, Lon got himself in a position where his head was supported better. Then he almost did manage something approaching sleep, except for a fitfulness that came from knowing that he might be called upon to react alertly any second.
“Nolan.” At first, Lon thought he was dreaming. It was not until Captain Orlis called a second time that Lon jerked awake.
“Yes, sir?” He scarcely paused before he added, “I guess I nodded off for a minute.”
“God, I wish I could,” Orlis said. “And I wish I could let you and your men rest longer, but it’s time to get back to work.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’ll be a local floater here with ammunition—rifle magazines and grenade clips—shortly. Get fourth platoon resupplied as fast as you can and have them ready to move out. You’ll lead. Let Dendrow know that he’ll be in charge of third. Anything comes up while you’re gone, he should call me directly.”
“Yes, sir,” Lon said when Orlis paused.
“Belletiene has stolen a march on us,” the captain continued. “While we were concentrating on the force in front of us, they moved a larger force around behind us on the east, up from The Cliffs. Calypso doesn’t have enough men in position to stop them. You’re to take fourth platoon and delay them as long as you can, give the rest of us time to get into the city.”
“Yes, sir. Just how large a force do we need to delay?”
“A thousand, maybe eleven hundred,” Orlis said. “You’re going to have to buy us at least a half hour. Split the platoon in two. You know the drill. Give the Belletieners enough to think about that they’ve got to slow down.”
Lon nodded. He did not ask for detailed instructions, or voice misgivings over the odds. For this type of assignment, step-by-step orders would be impossible. See what you can do when you get there. A judgment call. And using a small force to harass and delay a larger enemy was … not unheard of.
“You will have a little help,” Orlis said. “Colonel Gaffney is releasing two fighters to make a pass over the enemy, to try to tie them up long enough for you to get into position.”
Lon nodded. “That should help.”
“Here comes that supply truck now.” The captain pointed. Lon glanced that way. “Get busy. I want you moving as fast as possible, before the Belletieners get too far into Oceanview.”
“Yes, sir.” Lon started toward the truck, ready to call Sergeant Jorgen to get the platoon there to meet him, when Captain Orlis stopped him briefly.
“Good hunting, Nolan,” the captain said. “And good luck.”
Lon gave Jorgen the news piecemeal, first just telling him to get the platoon up and moving toward the truck. Only after the men were on the way did Lon give him the rest of the news, in capsule form. Details—as far as Lon knew them—could wait until they had stocked up on ammunition and started moving toward the enemy.
A quick survey of his mapboard gave Lon a good idea where he would have to take his platoon to get in front ofthe enemy. The Belletieners were already entering the residential district at the southern edge of Oceanview. Some of the civilians in their path had fled northward. Others were apparently holed up in their houses, hoping that trouble would pass them by. The invaders were apparently not conducting house-to-house searches. They seemed intent on moving through to the government district as rapidly as they could.
“We’ll have to hit them here, Weil,” Lon said, pointing out the location he had decided on. He had adjusted the scale on his mapboard to show a fairly detailed view of the edge of the commercial and professional district just south of the governmental core of Oceanview.
Jorgen nodded. “We’ll have to move smartly to get there ahead of them. The locals have any mines or booby traps planted between here and there, anything we’re going to have to watch for along the way?”
“Not that they’ve told us about,” Lon said.
“We’re ready to go,” Jorgen said.
The platoon moved out at a brisk march, in two columns, with intervals more those of a hike than an advance toward the enemy. Once clear of the other Dirigenters, Lon alternated the pace between march-step and double time. They had to move north, through the woods, for a half mile before turning east, into the early-morning sun.
Twice they passed companies of Calypsan soldiers who were trying to regroup and replenish their own ammunition. They also passed a field hospital, where local soldiers were being treated. They got hit hard, Lon thought, looking as he moved past the open-sided tent. There were a dozen trauma tubes under the canopy, and several dozen wounded soldiers waiting their turns.
Finally the platoon turned east, through the outskirts of Oceanview. The streets were almost deserted. Only an occasional police or military vehicle was moving. Civilians were staying indoors, or had moved to safer ground ahead of the fighting the night before. The army had sentries posted, and a couple of shorthanded squads out as scouts.
Lon heard the sounds of explosions to the south, and the rapid fire of the multibarrel guns that the DMC’s Shrike fighter aircraft carried. He looked in that direction, but saw nothing. The fighters were either risking everything to get very low or—more likely, he thought—staying high enough to give them a good chance to evade any surface-to-air missiles the Belletieners might launch. The fighters would not be around for long. If they had come in with full loads of munitions, they might make three passes over the enemy—rockets and gunfire. Then it would be time to burn for orbit, to return to their ship.
“Give them hell,” Lon whispered.
Two minutes later, just after the last rocket explosions to the south, it was time for Lon to split the platoon. He kept first and second squad and started south again. Platoon Sergeant Jorgen took the other squads and continued east. They would go another quarter mile before turning south to intercept the invaders. There was no double-timing now. Lon did not want his men to be winded when they encountered the enemy. After the two sections had separated, Lon gave his two squads a minute to rest.
“It’s going to be hit-and-run and watch your asses,” Lon told Wil Nace and Ash Boeker, the corporals who led the two squads. “That means use the men with beamers as long-range snipers when possible.” Each squad had one man with an energy weapon. “Grenades at maximum range, from cover. Duck into buildings to take a few potshots, then get out before the enemy can respond. Our job is to slow the enemy down, give the rest of the battalion and the locals time to put a more credible force between government center and the invaders.”
Nace nodded. “We know the drill, Lieutenant.”
“You’ll operate separately,” Lon continued. “If necessary, break your squads into fire teams. Wil, I’ll stay with you, but it’s your show, tactically. I’ve got the entire platoon to manage. If I get any ideas, you’ll hear them, but don’t wait for me to say what to do from minute to minute. Now, let’s move.”
The broad avenue made Lon nervous. He and his men were too visible. They stayed close to the buildings, near cover, but that was only a partial solution. They were heading toward the enemy, and one Belletiene column was advancing along the same avenue—just the other side of a park, no more than seven hundred yards to the south. As soon as possible, the two squads moved to either side, heading for alleys and the spaces between buildings, to areas where there was some cover.
Wil Nace halted his squad and sent Loe Gavish, his beamer, and another man to the top of a building to try for a shot at the enemy. Then Nace deployed the rest of the squad, talking to two or three men at a time, telling them where to go, what to do.
“We’ll operate in relays,” Nace told Lon. “Leapfrog each other. If the enemy goes after the first men who hit them, they can beat it, and we’ll let the enemy run into the next ambush.”
Lon nodded. “Do what you think best, Wil. You’ve had more experience at this than I have.” Lon had no qualms about admitting that. He trusted the veterans under his command, and he was always willing to learn from them. The Corps operated that way, generally. Young officers were not given the opportunity to nurture delusions that the red and gold pips they wore were worth more than years of experience. “I’ll stick with you. Maybe I’ll even get a shot or two at them myself.”
“I got no problems with that,” Nace said. “Just remember, this kind of operation can get dirty in a hurry.”
Lon glanced around. He had already noted how clean, how new, everything about Oceanview looked. It was almost as if the city had just been built and no one had moved in yet. But the city was not new, simply well maintained, even in the face of an enemy invasion. Not even Dirigent City is kept up like this, Lon thought, and he had been impressed with how clean the capital of the mercenary world was. It had been so distinct a contrast with the cities he had seen on Earth.
“Whenever you’re ready, Wil,” Lon said.
Nace nodded. “I’m just waiting for Gavish to report that he’s ready. With a little luck, he might get off two or three shots with the beamer before the enemy knows that anything’s happening.”
Loe Gavish reported that he was in position and had the enemy in sight. Nace gave him the go-ahead, then alerted the rest of the squad. “Well, Lieutenant,” he said then, “I guess it’s time for us to get out of the street before we get arrested for vagrancy.” The others had already disappeared from sight, into buildings and between them, moving into position.
Lon gestured toward the door nearest them. They were standing by the rear entrance to a three-story office building. There was no glass in the door. “After you, Wil.”
“Right, Lieutenant. Just for the sake of an old corporal’s nerves, let’s treat this as if there might be a squad of hostiles on the other side.”
Lon nodded, and brought up his rifle and checked to make certain that the safety was off. Nace did the same with his weapon. The two men looked at each other and lowered the faceplates on their helmets.
