Blue Plague: Decisions, page 43
The horde covered the entire roadway and median, seventy yards across, and they were running. Just then at the leading edge the rockets dropped their submunitions. Small explosions ran down the road, dropping the blues for eight miles. The UAV panned out and Bruce grinned. The road there had water on both sides, forcing the blues to stay on the road, but with all the bodies in their way it slowed them down, packing them tighter.
Keying his radio, he watched many fall down only to be run over or trip more, packing the horde tighter minute by minute. “Rocket team … when you are reloaded, fire again, same thing,” Bruce said, and eight minutes later the rockets roared again. The horde had only made it half a mile from the first impact site. Again they were just mowed down, all the way from the front rank and eight miles back. Bruce could see on the monitor that most of those down were moving feebly but they weren’t getting up. To his joy, he watched other blues trample them down.
After those two strikes, the blues were really packed tightly as they continued forward at a slow walk. They were so close together they couldn’t even run. “Apaches, start your run,” Bruce said on the radio. “Rocket team, when the Apaches are done and the horde reaches the box, hit them again,” he ordered, watching the monitor as the Apaches started firing rockets. Looking at another screen, Bruce saw the horde still stretching thirty miles away; he was unable to see the end with the UAV. “That is a shitload of trouble,” Bruce muttered.
“Damn it, Bruce, when you are talking to yourself don’t do it so we can all hear!” Mike yelled at him over the radio.
“Sorry,” Bruce said, taking his hand off the mic switch. He almost wanted to laugh watching the blues just trample each other. The front of the horde was so tightly packed they could barely walk now, and the front ranks were still falling down and being trampled. When the last Apache finished shooting, the horde was just a few miles away. It had taken them half an hour to go eight miles.
“Mortars,” Bruce called out.
He watched the monitor in amazement as the rounds impacted, creating thirty-yard-circles, then the circles just filled up with more bodies. As the front line hit the end of the box, the rockets launched again, impacting eight miles back. Unlike before, there were so many blues they kept pushing forward. There just wasn’t enough shrapnel to knock them all down. Then Bruce heard Omega and the guns on the boom arms open up.
Nobody was ready for the response of the blues. They all roared at once. They knew the gunshots meant, ‘Man is close.’
“I hope I have some fixed air close,” Bruce said over the radio.
“Just waiting on you to tell me when,” Mack called back.
“When,” Bruce replied.
“Mortars hold,” Mack said. “Two Eagles coming in fully loaded.”
Thunder raced overhead as the jets streaked by. On the monitor, Bruce saw the two jets pass over the horde. The RV shook as the twenty thousand pounds of bombs hit the earth a mile away. Bruce could almost swear the RV was bouncing on the road with each impact. “Hey, tell those sky jockeys there are friendlies down here!” Adam yelled over the radio.
“Hey, somebody look for my balls on the floor, they fell off!” Ted yelled out over the radio. Looking at the screen, Bruce just stared. The bombing run had wiped the horde out four miles back and nothing in the kill zone was moving.
“Find your balls, Ted,” Bruce replied, keying the mic. “Mack, we want some more of that, and when the horde fills the box, hit the sides with napalm,” Bruce called out.
“Twenty hogs rolling in!” Mack yelled.
“Buffy, wake up and watch!” Bruce yelled.
“I’m right here,” she said, standing beside him. “I thought those rockets were loud,” she added.
“Watch this,” he said, pointing at the screen. The horde had been pushed back four miles and had not been able to push forward because of the bodies. An A-10 flew over the horde, dropping bombs on the leading edge and continuing to drop down the line. When the last bomb left, the plane pulled off as the first bombs hit, shaking the ground again but nowhere near like the F-15s had. One by one they flew down the line, decimating the horde back another eight miles. The bodies on the interstate now were stacked yards high, slowing the advance even more and making them pack even tighter.
Looking at another view from a different UAV, Bruce could see the end of the blue lines. Granted, it was forty miles away, but he could see it. “Mack, hold the air up. I don’t want them getting off the road. Let the front edge reach the kill box, then have the boys start at the back of the column and work forward,” Bruce called out on the radio.
“Okay Daddy,” Danny called back.
“Where’s Mack?” Bruce asked.
“He had to go and fly a plane. He said that looked like too much fun,” she told him.
“Oh, so he can have fun but I can’t?” Bruce mumbled jealously. He continued watching the monitors. The horde moved like a huge single life form. Climbing over the fallen blues and bomb craters, the horde moved forward, filling the kill box the teams had created. At two miles, the gun nest on the boom arms opened back up and once again the horde roared as one.
“Just to let you know Bruce, they heard the mob roar at the airfield ten miles away,” Mike called out over the radio.
“Shit, it rattled the windows here,” Bruce answered back, watching the horde close the distance to the bridge where First and Second Platoon were set up. ‘That’s way too many for them,’ Bruce thought. “First and Second Platoons, have half of each squad on belt-fed weapons. This is going to be too many to just pop down,” Bruce instructed.
“You just now figured that out?” Ted yelled.
Ignoring Ted, Bruce keyed his mic. “Supply, get extra barrels and ammo up there. Nobody is to be more than ten yards from their vehicle. This is fixing to get touchy and we may have to leave in a hurry.”
On the main monitor Bruce watched as the horde filled the kill box, all three square miles of it, as they continued to come at the bridge. When they were less than five hundred yards out, the platoons opened up. The line of guns fired as one hundred weapons mowed down the front line, but the blues just kept pushing forward. Unlike before, the blues had the numbers to take the losses in such a small area.
When the horde was one hundred yards from the bridge, they were still gaining ground but at a horrible cost. The east and west lanes were two separate bridges, and the horde managed to reach the ends. The volume of gun fire coming from the two platoons and the boom arm platforms was unbelievable, and still the blues came.
Those not pushing onto the bridges just moved to the water’s edge. Third and Fourth greeted them, opening fire with rifles from the opposite bank a hundred and twenty yards away. Watching in horror, Bruce saw the blues push some of the leading edge into the water. The bodies started stacking up, building a bridge ten feet out from the bank.
“Mike, send a platoon to reinforce my Third and Fourth on the bank. They are pushing the leading edge in and building a bridge with bodies. Have your troops open up with nothing but belt-fed machine guns!” Bruce roared over the radio.
“Okay Bruce, I’m sending Third but we are starting to get blues behind us. Not big numbers but enough to let us know they are here,” Mike called back.
Buffy reached up, pulling on his arm. “Daddy, the helicopter base reports they are getting a lot of blues there,” she said, holding her headset over her ears.
“All teams, be ready to move on short notice,” Bruce called out, then Buffy grabbed his arm again.
“Daddy, the bridge to the south! Blues are trying to get over the logs we put on it,” she said, pointing at a monitor.
“Light it, Buffy,” Bruce told her, looking at the monitor.
Buffy flipped a switch, sending a radio signal which detonated the fuel barrels on the bridge and set the logs ablaze. Bruce guessed that there were only fifteen to twenty thousand blues trying to get across there. When the fire started, those not burned turned and headed north.
Looking back to the main monitor, Bruce could see the kill box was full and the blues were on the bridges, only a hundred yards from the line. The UAV over the bridge zoomed in, and in front of the platoons all he could see were body parts. The volume of fire they were pouring out was just blowing the blues apart, yet they still pushed forward.
“Boss, we are getting in some deep shit here. I’m having to alternate machine guns so the barrels don’t overheat, and they are really pressing us!” Ted yelled.
“Hold as long as you can,” Bruce called back. “Mortars, concentrate your fire fifty yards from the end of the bridge, but don’t hit the bridge. Rocket batteries launch now!” Bruce yelled out as the first mortar rounds started hitting at the end of the bridge. Every three seconds a mortar round would hit, creating a thirty-yard void for a split second … then it would fill up.
Looking at another monitor, Bruce saw the end of the blue horde six miles away. They were packing in the area the teams had made with water on each side of the road. Then rockets hit at the back of the line moving forward, sending body parts in the air. “Base, where is my air cover? These fuckers are really pissed off. I need the north and south box lines set on fire now!” Bruce ordered.
“Six hogs coming in, Dad, loaded with napalm. Tell the boys it’s fixing to get hot,” Danny replied.
“Mortars and rockets, cease fire. We have air coming in. Omega, get ready for air,” Bruce told them. The mortars fell silent and the blues that were being held back by the wall of steel surged forward. On the monitor, Bruce watched two A-10s fly over the piles of trees they had bulldozed up to form the north and south lines of the kill box.
Flying down the line, they dropped napalm canisters, one at a time, setting the wood ablaze. When the first two peeled off they left a line of fire a mile long as two more came in.
“That’s all good, but get me some fire at the base of the bridge. We can’t keep up this volume of fire. We’ve already lost four gun barrels and the bottom of the RGs are three feet deep in brass casings!” Ted shouted into the radio.
“Choppers, fly to the south and set up out of the mortar line. Stay under a thousand feet to stay out of the fixed wing space and lay down some fire!” Bruce yelled.
“They are thirty yards out into the river now!” Carl called out. Looking at the area under the bridges, Bruce saw the pile of blue bodies Carl was referring to.
Mike came over the radio. “Don’t ask, Bruce, because I can’t send anything. We are just barely keeping the rear clear.”
Looking at the monitor, Bruce saw the entire horde had filled the kill box. “Air wing, when can you hit the box? We are fixing to have to pull out!” Bruce said.
“We have steel rain on the way, no more that fifteen minutes,” Danny called back.
“What the hell are those air jockeys doing to take so long?” Bruce yelled back.
Stephanie got on the radio. “Bruce, we are turning planes around as fast as we can.”
It was 0800. Bruce shook his head; there was no way he could hold them until the air could roll in.
“Daddy, the rocket batteries are saying they are out of rockets with this last volley,” Buffy told him.
“What?” Bruce yelled.
“Hey, don’t yell at me, I’m just telling what they said,” Buffy replied.
Grabbing his microphone, Bruce started yelling, “What do you mean you’re out of rockets?”
“Bruce, they’ve dumped over five hundred rockets into that horde. We can only carry so much shit!” Mike yelled back.
Bruce started cussing as Buffy looked up at him. “Daddy, the mortars are saying they have to slow down because the tubes are getting too hot,” she said, which only expanded Bruce’s vocabulary.
Bruce spat out orders. “Teams, prepare to pull out. Third and Fourth, pull out from under the bridge now and take Gamma’s platoon with you. Stop at the line Gamma is holding to the rear. First and Second, be ready to move in three minutes. Supply on the bridge, off-load them some ammo and get out of their way. Air field, get the choppers up and fall back to the next battle line. Team leaders, make sure your people are accounted for before you pull out.”
“Dad, hold them just a few more minutes. I have a hog that’s fixing to drop some napalm on the end of the bridge to hold them off. When it hits, get the hell away from the area,” Danny told him.
Bruce froze upon hearing Danny. He could tell she was smiling when she said that. “Danny, you better not even think about popping a nuke, we are too close,” Bruce warned her.
“I know that, Dad. We are fixing to wipe the box clean. When the hog hits the bridge you need to move back fast. Jake says you will have four minutes and need to be two miles back at least,” Danny called back over the radio.
“Damn it Bruce, control your kids!” Adam yelled over the radio.
“Just how am I supposed to do that when they are two states away?” Bruce asked him. “Mike, pull your line two miles back and hold the area. Third and Fourth Platoon, take up their positions until we leave,” Bruce called out.
“Gamma is moving,” Mike called back.
As Third and Fourth Platoons pulled into Gamma’s position, an A-10 roared in from the south, dropping napalm at the base of the bridge. “Y’all need to get the hell out of there now!” Danny yelled.
“First and Second, let’s get the hell out of here before my kids kill us!” Bruce shouted. Moving back to the front of the RV, he climbed the ladder, opening the top hatch on the roof. Sticking his head out, he saw the boom lifts drive by the RV and the RGs of First and Second Platoon moving toward him. “Okay, move us out!” Bruce yelled down to the driver.
The RV pulled out with First and Second behind them and Third and Fourth in front of them. “All choppers clear the area now, five-mile safe zone,” Danny called over the radio. ‘Oh shit,’ Bruce thought.
Looking up, he saw choppers screaming away as fast as they could fly. As he watched them leave, Bruce looked up toward the west and froze. Slowly pressing his mic, Bruce called out, “Ah, base, I see a B-52 coming at me. Please tell me that it belongs to us.”
“Yes Daddy, that’s ours. That’s what Mack flies, the BUFF,” Danny called back in a cheery voice.
“You know if I would’ve known that we had one of those I would have changed my whole attack plan,” Bruce called out in a pissed tone.
“We didn’t know if it would be ready in time,” Angela called back.
Unable to reply, Bruce just watched the plane fly overhead. It was up high but he could see that the bomb bays were open and the wing pylons held full racks of bombs. “It’s loaded with forty thousand pounds of bombs, Dad, and we have twenty A-10s behind it, each carrying six tons. That area is fixing to become nonexistent,” Jake called out on the radio, knowing his dad had lost the power of speech.
Still looking up, Bruce saw the bombs start to fall from the plane, heading to earth and steering themselves to the kill box. When the first thousand-pound bomb hit, he felt the RV shake, then it was followed by thirty-nine more. Bruce could feel the air being sucked out of his lungs from two miles away from the concussion. Unable to resist, Bruce climbed out onto the roof of the RV to watch.
Those watching back at base saw the kill box raked from one end to the other with explosions. Each explosion wiped out a four-hundred-yard area of blues. Even with forty thousand-pound bombs, over half the area was still untouched. That was what the rest of the planes were rolling in for. From three thousand feet the A-10s flew in straight lines and dropped their bombs over the area.
The rest of Gamma and Omega had climbed out onto the roofs of their vehicles to watch with Bruce. The kill box area was shrouded in a cloud of dust, smoke, and fire. When the last explosion hit, they were still just staring at the sight.
Jake came on the radio. “Area clear and the bridge is up, but I wouldn’t drive on it. I’m sure the explosions weakened the foundation,” he called out.
“Is anything moving over there?” Bruce finally asked, keying his radio.
“Not in the kill box. We have some small groups that are running away. If you look to the horizon you will see the Hellfires coming down on them,” Jake called back.
Looking at the horizon, Bruce couldn’t see the missiles but he could sure hear them impacting. “Damn, Daddy, that was awesome,” Buffy said, standing beside him.
Finally shaking himself out of the trance, Bruce keyed his mic. “All elements, this is Big Daddy One. Let’s go home,” he called out.
In Colorado, the command area was sitting in stunned silence as the teams pulled out. The destruction they had watched was absolute. They had watched the battle unfold and had listened in on the radio chatter between Bruce and the base, mesmerized.
“Why didn’t they tell him about the BUFF?” Givens asked.
“You heard them sir, they didn’t think it would be ready. They really didn’t need it though. I didn’t think they had that much ordinance for the planes. With fifty A-10s to call on they could have pounded the area into submission,” Walker replied. He was going to talk to Bruce about that. If they had that kind of ordinance on hand, there was never a need to make that many battle lines to fall back to.
“Can we still take them, Colonel?” the President asked in concern.
“Oh yes sir, I have taken into account their air power. We just have to stay under our umbrella,” Walker answered.
“That’s what I like to hear,” the President answered. “You still think we have to wait until winter?” he added.
“Yes sir. We don’t have the ammunition reserves to fight the blues and then a battle if needed. I hope to scare them into surrender but I’m not counting on it anymore. I know we can take them now if needed, I know how they think,” Walker answered with confidence.
Givens stood up and patted Walker on the back. “That’s what I want to hear. We can wipe them out at will,” he said.
“General, that’s fine, but you will not hurt that site,” the President said firmly.
“Of course, sir,” Givens answered.
