Hawkwood nodded. “That’s the kind of answer I like to hear. Honest and well thought out. You’re one of Verro’s kids?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You want the job?”
“I do, sir.”
Nodding before looking at Sergeant Jackson, he said, “Rivers is your loader. He has a lot of ground to cover. Make sure he’s ready for battle, sergeant.”
“He will be, sir. Rivers, me, and Lunatic Red… we’ll be ready for the call.”
. . .
Winger and Hawkwood took a camp car to the rifle range to watch the last group of the day qualify and end the range work for the company. Equipped with the company’s standard issue 7mm semi-automatic battle rifle, most troopers in the ranks were required to show proficiency with the weapon even if it was not part of their occupational specialty.
Climbing the stairs to observe from the range tower, it was immediately apparent the conditions were not optimal for marksmanship. High gusting crosswinds and blowing dust combined with shots ranging out to 750 meters made for an unpredictable, challenging, and frustrating experience.
“Looks like fun,” Winger said as he looked on through magnifying optics. “Fifty percent visibility beyond five-hundred. Enough wind to push rounds off target or cause a miss the other way if they compensate and the wind dies. Those troopers relying on their helm systems are going nuts because the computer is having a meltdown. Yeah, I’d guess there’s a lot of colorful language all along the firing line.”
“Maybe you should head down there and show them how it’s done?” Hawkwood said with a smile. “I recall you being pretty decent with the rifle.”
“There was a time I might, but since somebody tabbed me as the CO’s shadow I’m sure my skills have eroded away. That’s what happens to those who get stuck in command jobs.”
Hawkwood laughed. “I knew there was a reason I selected you. Forget it, Ray, you’re stuck. I need you to plug holes and keep troopers from running in terror when things go to shit. The reward for good work is—”
“More work. I know, Jack.”
The two veteran mercenaries looked on as the shooters struggled with the conditions knowing such adversities were often educational and best learned on a controlled range rather than in the heat of combat.
. . .
“Let’s see the results,” Hawkwood said as the shooters climbed from their shooting positions.
“Not bad all things considered,” the range master said looking at the scores on his console. “Overall, damned good for what they had to deal with, Some truly impressive shooting by the top ten.”
“Hmm,” Winger said as he scanned the data. “Not bad at all.”
“A couple of PV-threes near the top?” Hawkwood said.
“Verro’s” Winger said. “Rivers, now this? The man did his job, didn’t he?”
“That he did,” Hawkwood replied. “And you signed them.”
“That I did, sir. And you stick me with shadowing you.”
The Red Light’s commander smiled and shook his head. “You’ll never let me live in peace, will you. Joking aside, I picked you to shadow me because of how you managed the company after Bob Kent died. A dozen troopers told me you kept things together.” Following the somber note, he smiled again. “I considered making you top sergeant. I can only imagine how much flak you’d give me if I had. C’mon, let’s go hear the complaints.”
Sergeant William Bellvue and Corporal Hicks approached at a brisk pace and blocked Winger and Hawkwood at the bottom of the stairs. The head of the Red Light’s sniper team, Bellvue’s expression said he was a man on a mission. On their heels followed Privates Fran Smith and Sam Healey.
“Sir, I have request,” Sergeant Bellvue said.
Hawkwood nodded. “I have a good idea what it is.”
“I’m sure you do, sir. This company used to utilize four snipers. Four. We currently have two as I’m sure you know. Hicks and me. I haven’t heard any changes being announced so with us getting ready to—”
“Out with it, Sarge.”
“This beast of a range exposed enough to narrow down those that might be a fit for sniper section. The sooner we get two more the sooner we can get up and running.”
Gesturing at the two greeners, Hawkwood said, “These two are who you have in mind?”
The surprised looks on the two young soldiers made it obvious they were unaware of Bellvue’s intent.
“Healey and Smith, sir,” Bellvue said. “Shot third and sixth just now and they both have precision rifle training. They both shot without using helm assistance too.”
“Look, I know you need to fill out your team,” Hawkwood said. “Two greeners is too risky. Take one and fill the fourth slot with a seasoned trooper. Preferably not a grunt.”
“Sir, I had it figured it might be better to utilize greeners rather than take a seasoned trooper out of—”
“One, Bellvue.”
The sergeant sighed and nodded. “Healey shot a bit better, but he’s pretty tall. Smith is smaller. When it comes to hiding, size is a factor.”
“Am I being drafted, sir?” Fran said to Hawkwood. “I’d prefer to be in an infantry platoon.”
“Then you will be.” Hawkwood gestured at Sam. “What about you? I’m not forcing a raw trooper into a slot like sniper. Say no if—”
“I’ll take it, sir,” Sam said.
“Settled,” Hawkwood said giving Bellvue a hard look. “You still need another sniper and four shadows.”
“Correct, sir.”
“The shadows have to mesh with their partner. That applies double with snipers. Choose well and do so quickly, Billy.”
“I will, sir.”
“Preferably you fill in the team before tomorrow. You have the data you need, so take care of it.”
“I’ll see to it, commander.”
Hawkwood and Winger pushed past the group and walked toward the range, Smith following along.
“Hawkwood was a little rough on you,” Hicks said. “There some bad blood?”
“No, he knows how important shadows are, especially with snipers. We’ve worked together twice, so he knows me well enough. He just wants to make sure I know it too.” Looking to Sam, he said, “You have a pal from training here in the company?”
“A few.”
“One of’em willing to pair with you now that you’re a sniper?”
“I’m thinking Vincent Davout might.”
Hicks laughed. “The slugger. Davout doesn’t have much back down in him. If he’s as good with a machine gun as he is with the mitts….”
“I heard about this morning’s little fracas,” Bellvue said. “Okay, I’ll see to it Davout is assigned, but you might make sure he’ll do it first. He does have machine gun training, right?”
Sam nodded.
“Good. Hawkwood may not like two greeners pairing up in the sniper security-spotter job, but when you’re out as just a pair you have to be tight. We start field exercises tomorrow, so we need to get this thing hammered down.”
“I’ll go ask him now.”
“Do that. Hey, did you train on the eleven millimeter heavy sniper rifle?”
“No, but I’m looking forward to it.”
“Look far forward because we don’t have time to get you squared away on it. You have precision rifle certs so the seven millimeter sniper rifle will be easy enough for you to learn. Longer barrel and better optics, but functionally the same. We’ll work a little on the long range stuff, but we’ll mostly be doing battlefield sniping at well under a klick. Find Davout and then find me. We’ll need to get you kitted up for tomorrow’s field exercises.”
“And you need to find four more troopers, Billy,” Hicks said with a smile.
Bellvue glowered good-naturedly at his friend. “Yeah. But it’s three. You find your own shadow. That’s why Healey here will need to come looking for us. We’re going to bag the rest of the team right now.”
. . .
Honing the Edge
. . .
The field exercises commenced at first light, but Sam, Vincent, and Myles were not part of them. In Top Sergeant Holden’s opinion, the eight troopers making up the sniper team and the crew of the walker Lunatic Red needed drill more than simulated battle maneuvers. With Hawkwood’s hearty approval, they went to ranges instead.
Rivers drilled on loading the 90mm for hours on end, slamming color-coded dummy rounds into the breech at Jackson’s call long enough to develop blisters despite gloves designed to prevent that very thing. That done, Jackson, Rivers, and Lunatic Red fired live rounds from stationary ranges for two days before moving on to mobile ranges that required moving from point to point and engaging targets representing unknown threats. Needing to identify targets, ascertain the correct response, and fire the correct round to pass the course, the pair and their vehicle performed well.
Jackson was impressed by Rivers and he soon had the greener taking on the responsibilities of experienced loaders. An array of small vid displays on the bulkhead near the ammo racks presented views from points on all sides of the hull. “Four eyes and a threat assessment system beats two eyes and a threat assessment system,” Jackson said in his customary machine-gun delivery. “Loading the big dog is your primary duty, but give those screens a grunt’s eye scan when you have the time. You just might see something Lunatic’s AI or I might have missed.”
Jackson gave Rivers the grand tour of the cramped interior of the walker. Explaining what each piece of gear was and why it was placed where it was. He saved one particular item for last. Near the loader’s position was a box secured with a red flexible band. Removing the band and lifting the hinged cover revealed a pistol grip controller protruding from a flat base with adjustable straps and snap fittings. With thumb controls and a trigger, Myles could only guess what the device did.
“Remote bolter controller,” Jackson said with a mean smile as he pulled the device from the box trailing a cable. “The idea was something Brownie conjured up before we went to Boomoon. Remember the loose cover you spotted at the Maelstrom Depot?”
Myles nodded in reply.
“See, on top of the hull sits a nifty little energy weapon in a low profile turret in the mount. It’s a bolter. Most armored vehicles are equipped with several them as a defense against rockets, guided missiles, recoilless rounds, and the like. They sure as Hades aren’t proof against them, but they hit enough to make equipping them worthwhile. The difference with the turret up top is it’s a beefier version from a missile defense station equipped with a manual sighting system.” Tapping the vid screen nearest the loader’s saddle, Jacks continued. “This screen will carry the bolter’s view when you activate it. Upgunned bolter or not, even the heftier version above us isn’t terribly powerful in the grand scheme of things. It can’t kill an armored vehicle, but it can punch holes in personnel, make a mess out of hull-mounted sensors, burn out communications gear, and foul up vision blocks and vid units. It’s accurate and doesn’t suck a lot of power.”
“Sounds interesting. How did Sergeant Brown come up with this idea?”
“A random hit by a bolter shot that hit a sensor on Bedlam Red a couple of deployments before Boomoon. They get tagged all the time, but Brownie figured a weapon targeting those things I mentioned before might be useful. He was right. The remote wasn’t something we had last time out because our old walkers were a few steps down from our current vehicles so we couldn’t spare the power or computer resources. We found the bolters worked well, but I only used it from the hull-down position as an attack came down on us. Once things are buzzing, the pounder and the ninety are about all I can deal with.
“Brownie felt that if the loader could serve as the primary operator, we’d get more use out of it. If you can become proficient with the bolter, we can use all three weapons at once. Hell, if we ever strap on missile launchers or rocket packs, we’ll have a death-dealing quartet.”
“Why is it cabled?”
Jackson laughed. “Nosy son of a bitch, aren’t you? A couple of reasons. First off, it keeps it within reach while you’re loading.”
“And second?”
“As you better already know, on most battlefields everything gets jammed. Coms, sensors, damned near anything beyond conventional video or megaphone goes to shit right quick. Pop quiz, nosy guy: one way to combat that is…?”
“Wires. Cabled coms like field phones, optic cable, or our crew headsets.”
“On target.”
“Why didn’t we use the bolter on the ranges?” Myles asked.
Jackson smiled. “Because there are eyes out there. Every merc unit in the system is looking to see what other outfits are up to. There are those that make a living peeping at places like this and selling the info they gather. The bolter isn’t a true game changer, but it provides an edge no other unit has. Such a thing is best kept quiet for as long as possible. We have a range coming up where we will use it. Strap it on your leg or hang it where you can grab it and let’s get you up to speed by running a few simulations, yeah?”
. . .
“Hit, Sam!” Vincent said peering through a compact spotting scope. “You’re getting the hang of it.” Lying prone next to his friend, Davout was learning the role of spotter as Sam worked on long range shooting under challenging field conditions.
“We’re getting the hang of it, pal,” Sam replied. “You nailed the wind angle. My estimate would have resulted in a miss.”
“Outstanding,” Sergeant Bellvue said over the com. “Crosswinds blowing in opposite directions at differing velocities. You’re coming along. Let’s shut down the wind and work at distances beyond the manual’s stated effective range for your weapon. We’ll be out of daylight in less than an hour.”
Even though the standard infantry helmet possessed the capability to estimate range, inclination, wind velocity and angle, plus a great many other factors, Sergeant William ‘Billy’ Bellvue was a firm believer in the fundamentals. While devices and artificial intelligences could be a help, they could also be a hindrance. A mass of data scrolling down a helmet visor coupled with a computer generated voice supplying even more information tended to confuse and Bellvue wanted his shooters to be masters of their craft without the need for much more than the grey matter that rested between each trooper’s ears. The Path of Light Infantry doctrine taught that mastered skills and mental discipline reigned supreme in battle and placed soldier above technology, mind above machine.
The team led by Bellvue was performing well. Pairing each sniper with someone they trusted was a proven formula, even if some of them were without sniping experience.
Bellvue had found a fourth sniper, a skilled shooter named Lyman Taro who was not quite equal to the abilities of Bellvue, Hicks, or Healey, but was sound enough and would improve in Billy’s estimation. Knowing Hawkwood and Holden favored using snipers to support infantry operations, most of their work would be done at relatively close range. What little Taro lacked in long range shooting skills, his field intelligence background made up for it. Possessing the same stealthy abilities as a sniper was a plus and considering that snipers provided a limited information gathering role made his skills match up well.
The range time for the snipers was well spent and all eight members of the team were happy they avoided the field exercises.
At the close of the range, most of the team cleaned weapons while Bellvue, Taro, and his shadow Private, 2nd Class Bud Harris took the team’s unused ammunition to be secured.
With the weapons cleaned and cased, Hicks and the others took seats on empty ammo crates near a cooler filled with ice water and talked.
Privates, 1st Class George Nelson and Paul Moss, Bellvue and Hicks’ shadows respectively, were also new to the sniper team but were proven troopers with years of experience.
“Only two of eight remained after Boomoon? Did the sniper team get hit hard or did the others go elsewhere?” Vincent asked.
Matt Hicks grimaced. “We’d done all right un
til the last night. That’s when we got tore up. Billy, me and our shadows were on one side of the perimeter once we were surrounded. The other two sniper-shadow pairs were supporting the Tyrol Company.” Hicks looked away with a pained expression and shook his head.
“They were on the company net,” Nelson said as he picked up the story. “There wasn’t any commo jamming on Boomoon, but to be honest I wish there had been. Troopers in exosuits were attacking over there but the Tyrols were holding their own, then armored personnel carriers decided to join the fun.” Nelson grimaced before he continued. “The Tyrol guys were near out of anti-armor weapons so Commander Kent led a team from the Red Light to help them. They did a lot of damage before they went down. Kent let most of the APCs enter the perimeter before they punched them out. The snipers over there ended up isolated and had APCs on three sides of them with friendly rockets and recoilless rounds trying to take down the armor.”
“It worked,” Hicks said. “Kent died for it, but it worked. Our guys though….”
Nelson nodded. “They were screaming over the com net before they died and when they did…. Billy took it hard, but Anderson, Billy’s shadow, took it worse. He seemed okay for a day or so, but then he cracked. He started going on about how he ‘couldn’t help but think better them than me’ while they were dying. Kept talking about it and said he still felt that way. Guilt cracked him right down the middle I guess. From what I heard he’s out of the game.”
“Anderson was real tight with those guys, especially Corporal Stanton,” Hicks said. “That’s why it ate at him. It happens. The mind is a funny thing. For him it was a betrayal, feeling relieved it was them that died and not him.”
“Nothing wrong with it either. Just because you’re glad to be alive doesn’t mean you caused someone die in your place. Some can’t make that corner I guess,” Nelson said.
“My point was, he felt that way about friends,” Hicks said.
“I see what you mean,” Nelson said apologetically. “Never been down that road.”
Moss said, “Almost makes me glad I was wounded early and missed the last part… and the surrender.”
Free Company- Red Zone Page 7
