Both of the stretchers were designed so that the casualty could be strapped into them, and if necessary dragged by only one man. It wasn’t a pleasant experience for the casualty, and it was exhausting for the bearer, but we could hardly have an entire section lost to casualty extraction. The casualty with the leg wound could be dragged, since the stretcher was designed to keep any muck out of his leg, but the other would need to be carried off the ground, and so would be better off with two of us.
‘I’ll take the leg wound,’ I offered, but Brown had already snatched up the straps to the stretcher before I managed to get out of the trench myself.
‘What, with those arms?’ Brown asked sarcastically.
‘Fine,’ I said, knowing that there was no time for arguing, and knowing that Brown was far stronger than me, ‘Let’s go.’
We dragged and carried our casualties unceremoniously toward the waiting casualty party. I felt terribly exposed in the open ground again. It’s hard to stay low when you’re carrying a stretcher, and the trench system still roared with gunfire. Occasionally stray darts passed close by, I could only hope that they weren’t meant for me, or my luck would surely run out.
‘Hurry up, you lizards!’ The sergeant major called over the noise. One of his work party ran out to help Brown, who was already panting heavily.
The rain was pouring now, hammering at the ground like a billion bullets. I wiped my visor with my sleeve.
Two troopers grabbed our casualties and hurriedly heaved them onto the back of the buggy, its suspension dipping with the extra weight.
Jackson moaned again, and Brown gave him one last gentle pat on the arm, ‘You’re fine, mate. Your war is over!’
Jackson laughed quietly, ‘Thanks, mate.’
‘No worries,’ Brown stopped when he realised that I was watching him, ‘What?’
I laughed, ‘I think you’re in serious danger of becoming a nice person, Brown.’
Our conversation was cut short, ‘Get back to your mates, lads, and give that to Sergeant Evans,’ the sergeant major said, passing Daniels a box of ammunition.
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Go, then!’
We ran back toward the trenches, zigzagging across the open ground as we did so, and then sliding back down into relative safety. Westy had re-organized the remainder of the section so that they covered to the north of the point of entry. We hadn’t cleared the trench off to the north, and although two platoon were out there, it was possible that enemy stragglers might be sandwiched in between us. Not an ideal situation to be in, ideally trench systems were only breached at a single point to avoid just such a scenario, but better that than staying out in the open.
The platoon had reached its ‘limit of exploitation’, Westy told me, if we continued to assault into the trenches we risked over extending ourselves and being attacked from behind. Instead three platoon were sent through to clear the gap in between us and two platoon, and the whole of C Company were sent after them to drive closer toward the city.
‘I prefer Browner,’ Brown said suddenly, as one after the other what seemed like hundreds of troopers slid into our tiny part of the trenches, and then moved off again into the maze.
‘Sorry?’
He sighed, ‘I don’t like being called Brown.’
‘Well, what’s your first name?’ I asked.
‘Danny. But I don’t like being called that either.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s what my mum called me,’ he looked wistfully up toward the clouds, the rain collecting on his visor.
‘Is she dead?’ I wouldn’t think to ask such a question if we weren’t so close to death ourselves.
‘No. I wish she was, though.’
After a while I realised that was all Brown was going to give me, ‘Okay, mate, Browner it is.’
We waited again, listening to the sounds of the battle whilst the smart gunners crouched nearby maintaining their constant watch of the air. We had control over the skies, even if our orbital top cover was gone, but we all knew that could change in an instant.
Reports had come over the net that C Company had almost cleared to the eastern end of the trench system, where they had encountered numerous burrows in which the Chinese would have taken cover during the barrage from above. Scattered equipment suggested that many of the enemy had attempted to flee back toward the city, but they took no chances. Every burrow had a phosphorus grenade thrown into it, nobody would survive that.
The order came that our company would continue the advance for the final few hundred metres into the city outskirts, and affect the break in as soon as C Company had reached their limit, before the fire support depleted it’s ammunition beyond critical levels. The assorted anti-gravity vehicles and artillery pieces had already been firing for well over an hour and their ammunition supply was dwindling.
‘What about B Company?’ Browner moaned.
I shared his opinion, the third rifle company in the battalion would be poised behind us ready to echelon through C Company in order to continue the advance with fresh troops. Why couldn’t they be used rather than us? I supposed we were just closer and faster to mobilise. That or we had already sustained casualties and the CO wanted to keep a fresh company for the city itself.
Westy shrugged, ‘I dunno, boys, but at least we’re in one piece and we’ll only be doing a few hundred metres, hard fast and aggressive with a load of fire support.’
‘It’s ridiculous, that’s what it is,’ Browner replied grimly, ‘Somebody hates us.’
Westy took no insult. He had warmed to me and Browner, especially since our jump to second in command and senior private respectively.
‘Well, complain to the Union when you get home.’
‘Screw the Union,’ Browner spat, ‘Half of them politicians in Brussels should be sent to New Earth, see how they get on.’
‘They should be lined up and shot,’ Brooks agreed. Like Daniels, he was a quiet man of few words, not that I had really spoken to either of them much anyway.
‘You know you can get in a lot of shit for saying stuff like that,’ I warned light heartedly.
‘Yeah, well…,’ Browner answered, ‘I won’t tell anyone if you guys don’t. I doubt anyone disagrees here anyway.’
‘Boys,’ Westy turned serious again, ‘Let’s just get this shit done, yeah? I don’t know if this war is right or wrong, and I don’t care. Let’s just get it done.’
We all nodded. There was a general feeling that this was the big push, the third day of the New Earth invasion. Tomorrow would be parades and medals, either that or a sorry voyage back to Earth packed into a fridge on a cargo freighter.
Suddenly Brooks adjusted his mammoth as if he were about to fire, ‘What the hell is that?’
I heard them before I saw them, distant figures running through the darkness off to our southern flank, coming from the city. They were shouting something, but I couldn’t make out what it was. I was about to tell Brooks to engage when Westy slapped him on the helmet.
‘Don’t shoot!’
I squinted at the figures. Even with my night vision on full magnification it was difficult to make them out in the rain, but the figures - there were several of them - weren’t dressed in any kind of uniform and appeared to be waving white rags.
‘Are the Chinese surrendering?’
‘They’re civvies,’ Westy corrected.
We all watched curiously as the figures disappeared into the gloom. They were the first civilians that I had seen since landing on New Earth.
‘Where are they running to?’
Westy shook his head, ‘No idea. Anywhere’s got to be better than in there, though,’ he jerked a thumb back toward the city.
‘They must be so pleased to see us,’ Brooks said.
There were no more civilians, and after several minutes I decided to change the topic of conversation, ‘What are you gonna do if you make it back?’ I asked Westy.
Westy spluttered, ‘Mate, do you
want me to die?’
‘You don’t say shit like that, Andy,’ Browner laughed, ‘You’ll jinx us!’
‘When I get back I’m gonna get so messed up on drink and drugs I won’t even remember my own name,’ Stevo said.
‘That’s nice,’ Westy answered frostily, ‘Hopefully I’ll forget your name too.’
Stevo shrugged dejectedly, ‘Just saying. I don’t want to remember any of this.’
‘I try not to think about going home,’ Browner said, ‘It just gets me down.’ I wondered what had happened with his mum, but knew not to ask. ‘I just want to go for a paddle in that sea.’
‘You want to go for a paddle?’ I laughed.
‘What’s wrong with that? I reckon it would feel amazing after all this, who needs home?’
‘Feels like home is a different world,’ Daniels added.
Browner patted Daniels’ shoulder, ‘Err…, I hate to break it to you mate…,’
‘Daniels,’ I asked, ‘Do you even know where you are?’
‘You know what I meant…,’
Browner laughed loudly, ‘He only went up the road to buy himself some sweets from his local, then he ends up on New Earth!’
‘You mean we’re on… a different world?’ I asked sarcastically.
‘That’s what Daniels here reckons.’
‘I didn’t…,’
‘Shit, Daniels, why didn’t you tell us before?’
‘He kept it secret all this time…’
The boss broke into our childish banter just as it began to raise our morale, ‘Prepare to move.’ We checked ourselves over, snapping back into trooper mode.
‘Order of march will be Three, then One, then Two, acknowledge.’
The section commanders answered their call signs. It was time to go again, back into the fray. The dark outline of the Jersey City filled me with foreboding.
‘Let’s go.’
19: Jersey City
The company broke out of the trenches and began to manoeuvre across the last few hundred metres to the city outskirts under the cover of our fire support. The rate of covering fire had intensified and was focused along the city’s edge in an attempt to deny the enemy any chance of engaging us on our final route in. It must have been successful, because during that final bound into the city there were only short sporadic engagements involving lone gunmen moving amongst the rubble.
One and Three section bounded forward in extended lines side by side, one of the two bodies of men covering whilst the other moved forward, zigzagging across the open ground as they ran and diving to the ground after a dash of no more than ten metres. My section, now in reserve, followed close behind in a single file lead by Sergeant Evans, ready to be sent forward if needed.
The ground was scattered with the bodies of Chinese soldiers who had fled from the trenches, either falling fowl of the orbital bombardment or being shot by C Company as they ran. Fleeing enemy was still enemy to us, because he was only running away to fight again somewhere else. Some were only injured, and were quickly searched and left for the sergeant major to pick up. They would be treated by our medics as if they were our own, because if the enemy knew he would be treated well upon capture, he didn’t fight to the death. Once or twice the sections encountered what appeared to be the entrances to burrows or maybe even warrens, and they would stop to throw in a grenade before continuing their advance. The process took no longer than a few minutes, even though it felt like an age. I prayed that the Chinese hadn’t had enough time to re-organize themselves.
We stopped within a hundred metres of the city and I could see the buildings in much greater detail than before. They ranged from single to two level structures, heavily sandbagged and lined with concertina wire. A road appeared to run alongside the buildings, creating a border between the rocky New Earth surface and the city itself.
From my briefings on Challenger I knew that the buildings were built traditionally out of stone quarried locally by the inhabitants and painted white, with roofs made of red slate tiles. They were designed to take the appearance of traditional European homes, a style commonly seen across many of the planet’s suburban dwellings.
Whatever they might have looked like before, the buildings were little more than ruins when I saw them. Walls had collapsed in the hour long onslaught from our fire support, as had rooftops, exposing the rooms inside. Some houses had collapsed entirely, leaving behind only their foundations amongst piles of scorched rubble. Not far from us a Chinese vehicle, some kind of rocket launcher on legs, burned fiercely.
‘Pat, reference my mark…’ as the boss spoke a blue crosshair appeared over one of the buildings on my targeting system. It was two floors high and looked relatively intact, apart from having more holes in it than a Swiss cheese, I guessed a result of a gravtank’s vulcan cannon. Whoever had been inside it must have had a really bad day, I thought.
I could see the shadow of Corporal Pattison - or ‘Pat’ as Three section knew him - kneeling up to see the building, ‘Seen.’
‘You are first assaulting section. Go when you’re ready.’
Pat didn’t need to be told twice, ‘Moving now!’ Three section were already up and moving, closely followed by One section, they weren’t going to sit in the open near to those buildings any longer than they had to. I would rather take my chances clearing room-by-room than wait for a sniper to have my head off if I had the choice.
I watched Three section run the last hundred metres up to the building, followed by Two section and mirrored to their north by two platoon who were going for a different building. We would attack both buildings simultaneously, obtaining a foothold within the city outskirts through which the other companies could echelon. Once the battalion had then pushed into the city, there were a further two battalions poised to echelon through us, driving into the heart of the Chinese position and shattering their defences. It often amazed me how much depended upon one or two sections in an operation as large as this one.
I could see our two sections move rapidly up to the wall of the building, weapons bristling from the mass of men like the spines of a porcupine. They took cover whilst two men placed something against the wall, which I recognised to be an entry charge.
Entry charges were low-tech bits of kit used for blowing holes into buildings, much simpler than anything we used in the warrens. They were a metal conical device the size of a dinner plate that could be placed against a wall by use of a thin metal frame, designed to direct a sufficient blast to create a man-sized hole in stone or brick walls without harming anyone a few metres away from them. They were ideal because you never entered a building by a doorway or window unless you had to because the enemy would almost certainly have them covered and booby-trapped.
The troopers ran away from the entry charge, and when they were a sufficient distance away it detonated in a cloud of dust, with a noise that was an anti-climax considering the sound that our grenades made. The two sections of men charged into the building, followed closely by a single trooper I identified as the boss. Normally a platoon commander would come with his own radio operator, a man who could take and send messages for him whilst he busied himself with the battle itself. Due to our small numbers, however, Cyclops was attached to one of the sections and the boss was having to make do without.
A couple of rounds were fired and voices echoed from within the gaping hole. A few seconds later a grenade detonated and then there were more shots. One section were next to enter the building to join the fight.
‘Ev, this is the Boss, bring up the remainder, please.’
‘Roger that, Boss,’ Sergeant Evans looked to us and beckoned, ‘Let’s get it done, lads!’ he called, and we went, weapons in the aim, covering the buildings in watch for opportunists and snipers. After the withering assault from the gravtanks, I doubted many pinkies had remained within the crumbling ruins of the city outskirts, but there were bound to be a couple.
A carpet of glass shards cracked and shattered beneath our feet as we cro
ssed the road. Above our heads would have been one of thousands of beautiful airtight glass domes that had allowed the inhabitants of the city to walk without wearing respirators, through broad streets adorned with plants, statues and water features. At night they had been lit brilliantly by thousands of multi-coloured lights, turning the city into a glowing spectacle that could be seen from orbit. A single orbital shell would have shattered them all and showered the inhabitants in a lethal rain of glass.
As I closed on the gaping hole through which Three section had entered I came face to face with a Chinaman. He was sat up against the far wall in a room not much bigger than a dropship crew compartment, coated with dust and littered with debris. His respirator was gone, so had half of his head and much of his torso. A member of Three section met us by the opening, pointing Westy to take a door to our left and north.
We entered the building without hesitation, our rifles held up in the aim and our bodies crouched as low as we could manage without falling over. I could almost feel the adrenalin pumping through my veins, and my heart thumping hard against my ribs.
The boss and Pat met us in the next room, which had been stripped bare and walled head high with sandbags. A huge section was missing in the ceiling, covered by two troopers from One section. There was one doorway on the northern side of the room ahead of us which hung open, and a second to the eastern side which was closed. The room we were in had probably once been something quite normal, I imagined, like a living room or dining room. Now it was nothing more than a modified bunker that had probably housed Chinese troops.
‘Jonesy only has five blokes now, including him,’ the boss reminded Westy as we crouched beside him, ‘He’s launched into the next room but I don’t want him to push any further.’
‘Okay,’ Westy nodded, looking intently toward the open door to our north, ‘You want me to go echelon through him?’
The boss shook his head, ‘No, I want you to move into the room to the east, then we’ll see where we go from there. Exploit no more than two rooms, and do not move further north without me saying so,’ I nodded my head in agreement, understanding that the boss didn’t want us to assault into a room alongside Jonesy’s without him knowing, as there was a risk of us accidentally shooting each other.
C.R.O.W. (The Union Series) Page 29
