Dawn of the Tiger

by Gus Frazer

  ‘No, she might have gone to get some sleep. Or celebrate her presentation to the chiefs. She did a pretty damn good job — presenting to that audience is no easy task, especially if you’re a woman.’

  ‘Yes, she did do well. You don’t think I’ve thrown her in too deep with all this?’ Stephens asked.

  ‘Well, she seems to be treading water pretty well right now — head decidedly above water.’

  Back in the convoy, Finn’s team was breaking camp at 0400 hours. The sky was black but the stars were bright and the nearly full moon cast obscure shadows on the faces of the men around him. No one spoke. Everyone knew what to do — the only voice was that of Higgins, who was quietly and efficiently giving orders. The men were sombre but focussed. Their time had come, and they were well practiced in what had to be done.

  ‘Bull! You and Hunt keep putting the thermal tents up over there so that we can unload the rest of the supplies,’ ordered Higgins.

  ‘Yessir,’ said Bull stoically. ‘Come on, gimme a hand,’ said Bull to Finn, tilting his head towards the truck containing the remaining thermal tents. His real name was Simon Kelly, but the squad nicknamed him ‘Bull’ due to his bull-like figure. The man was huge and his dimensions cartoon-like, with little or no neck, shoulders like cannonballs, a barrel chest and, to top it off, skinny legs which further accentuated his taurine physique.

  The tents were designed to camouflage the heat and X-ray signatures of the men and their equipment. The Chinese satellites were regularly over this area, and the barren landscape made it difficult to conceal anything from the ‘eye in the sky’, as the satellites were nicknamed. The tents were just large sheets of a carbon-fibre material that dispersed the heat source and reflected the X-rays, so that to the satellites’ imaging software it looked like nothing but more desert.

  They knew the times the satellites passed over the top. The Chinese had at least two that were in orbit over Australia, which meant every day and night, for about three hours, they had to ensure that everything was under a tent, otherwise they would be spotted.

  ‘You reckon these things can fool the satellites, Bull?’ asked Finn as they were erecting one of the large square sheets.

  ‘Mate, we’ll know before lunch. If you hear a San’ coming low over the desert, you know we’re fucked,’ replied Bull.

  The San’, or rather, Sankaku-104, was a three-man attack helicopter that was both revered and feared. The Sankaku had been devastating on the ground troops, they were fast, heavily armed, and the crews that flew them were merciless.

  ‘Yeah, great. But these things must have been tested, right?’ said Finn, somewhat concerned.

  ‘They would have been tested on our satellites and the Yank ones, but who really knows what the Chinese have up their crafty little sleeves?’

  ‘Ah well, too late to worry about it now, I guess,’ replied Finn.

  Once the tents were set up they helped the rest of the grunts unload the truck. The black sky was now turning into a dark, inky blue. Not long now, and the sun would be up. Not long now, and a Chinese satellite would be overhead, concentrating on their position with an array of imaging devices.

  ‘Right. Come on, boys. We’ve got just under half an hour to get this area under cover before the satellite comes over. Let’s move it!’ yelled Higgins.

  The men sped up their actions, and five minutes later everything was off the trucks. With 20 minutes to go, Higgins was doing last-minute checks with the platoon commander, Lieutenant Taylor. Hovering over the laptop perched on the back of the truck, they were checking the inventory list. Once everything was accounted for, they ordered the men under the thermal tents. They got comfortable with 10 minutes to spare. It was surreal because the other squads in the convoy, who were packed and loading their gear onto the truck, were leaving today.

  Finn watched as a couple of guys he knew from another squad were climbing into their truck. Finn waved but they did not wave back. Nobody knew the extent of the Chinese imagery technology and the last thing anyone wanted to do was give away the fact that there were soldiers staying behind. The success of the mission depended on stealth and the ability to stay concealed for as long as possible.

  The trucks, including their own, moved off at 0530 that morning. The plan was that, hopefully, the Chinese would stay focussed on the number of vehicles in the convoy. It would travel north for many more days, dropping teams off every morning but continuing on with the same number of vehicles as though it was still one large convoy. Finally, the convoy would turn east and away from the Chinese transportation lines. After two days of driving east, they would stop and set up an outpost with the remaining men and women.

  The eight-man squads, subsets of their platoon, were independent and self-sufficient. They would have scattered and disappeared into the desert by the time the Chinese figured out that the outpost had less than half the personnel that started on the convoy.

  Sitting under the tent, the sun was already up and the heat felt good after the cold desert night. As more and more trucks left, the dust cloud became thick, making it difficult to breathe.

  They had to stay under the tents for at least another two hours after the last truck had rumbled past before it would be safe to come out. Looking around, Finn saw three other squads huddled under their tents. ‘Sarge, are we going to be operating with the other squads out there?’ asked Finn, squinting at the bright sunlight as he pointed to the other groups.

  ‘No, Hunt. We’ll be working independently, as will they. None of us will know the other squads’ positions, so that if we are captured we can’t give away any useful information,’ replied Higgins, addressing the whole squad.

  ‘So, Sarge. What if they need back-up in a firefight — or if we’re in trouble, will we be able to locate one another?’ asked Jessop.

  ‘No. What part of independent don’t you understand?’ said Higgins, somewhat irritated. ‘We’ll have zero contact with other squads — if we get into trouble, we get ourselves out of it. We’re on our own now, boys. This is what we trained for, this is what our mummies raised us to do, and this is what we’ve been ordered to do by our supreme leader, General Stephens. Now, the lieutenant is going to brief us on our specific orders. So listen the hell up,’ said Higgins, now in operation mode.

  Taylor stood from the crates he was leaning on. He was a slender man, and seemed to Finn like an oddly gentle type to have chosen a career in the military. Most of the squads had only a sergeant to lead them but, by the luck of the draw, their team had Higgins and had also pulled the lieutenant, bringing their total to nine men. ‘Thank you, Sergeant. Right men, our orders are very simple — simple, but not easy. We are to break camp and move 11 clicks northwest of here, to a point that is elevated and within strike distance of our objective. This will be our base for operations. There is an abandoned mineshaft there that we will be appropriating. Supplies and equipment have already been deposited there for us. We must reach this point by sundown. The next satellite fly-over is scheduled for 2034, and although these thermal tents seem to do the job, I would prefer to have 30,000 tonnes of rock between us and their satellites, wouldn’t you agree?’

  The men nodded, listening intently.

  ‘So, in 90 minutes we can come out from under our tents and get moving. Until then, get your gear in order. We have a long hike and a lot of gear to lug through the desert. Keep your fluids up, hats on and sunblock reapplied regularly. It’s going to be toasty out there today and we can’t afford to be slowed down by illness.’

  Higgins, who was standing next to the lieutenant with his muscular arms crossed, dropped his hands to his hips. ‘Right, you’ve heard the platoon commander — get your kit together. In a little while we’ll be hiking through the desert.’

  The men loaded the crates onto the US-made Mule, which, unlike most Yank equipment, was not an acronym. It was called a mule because it had the ability to carry phenomenal loads over rough terrain. The Mule was essentially a small but powerful golf-car
t-sized all-terrain cargo carrier. It was controlled remotely by a man on foot but, cleverly, the Mule did not need to be driven by anyone. It could determine the best path to take over any obstacle through its onboard cameras. The Mule made operations like this achievable, as there was no way the men could carry their own supplies into this unforgiving territory. Higgins wasn’t sorry that they were using the Mule rather than PALs — most of the PALs had been destroyed in the initial conflict, and he had some bad memories of those. Besides, he doubted they’d be used in such a remote location — they were finicky and needed routine maintenance, so couldn’t be used on such specialised missions like this one.

  By 0915 the squad had moved out. At first the going was relatively easy, with hard-packed sand and rock. But after a few hours it got much harder. The sand became softer and deeper, the rocks bigger. The Mule was handling it better than the men, which prompted some to ask why the military hadn’t bought Mules for the soldiers, too.

  Eventually the landscape transformed from a desert wasteland to a craggy, stony, valley-riven terrain. After nearly nine hours of agonising slog, the squad found its base. It looked like just a crack in a rock face, high enough for a man to walk through, and about two metres wide. It was extremely well hidden, the opening to the mine being a natural cave, which made it perfect for concealment. There was no evidence outside the cave that it had been used as a mine. Any equipment that was left had eroded or been buried by the desert. With red rock around them, only a few scattered bushes broke up the landscape. Finn imagined that it may have once been a hideaway for outlaws, it had that sort of feel to it. In reality, he knew that not even an outlaw would come this far out.

  As Finn walked into the mine, his torch automatically activated in response to the sudden dimness. His jaw dropped. ‘What the fuck?’ he whispered in amazement.

  Higgins walked in right behind him. ‘Fuck me,’ he said in an impressed tone.

  Though the entrance was relatively narrow, inside, the cave widened out, clearly carved out by man. The ceiling vaulted up and along the walls of the mine were stacked boxes of weapons, explosives, ammunition, rations and communications equipment. There were eight motocross bikes painted in desert camouflage lined up just inside the entry.

  ‘It’s like bloody Aladdin’s cave in here, Sarge,’ said Finn.

  ‘You’re not wrong, Hunt. Not wrong at all,’ said Higgins as he went over and opened one of the crates, revealing a shoulder-mounted missile launcher.

  ‘One of these things can take down a San’ from over a kilometre away. Bloody brilliant!’ said Higgins. Noticing a piece of paper lying on top of the missile launcher, he muttered ‘What’s this?’ to himself and unfolded it.

  He read aloud from the sheet: ‘Happy hunting. We hope you find a good use for the hardware contained in these crates. With compliments, Karl Jost, chairman, IXR’.

  ‘So IXR is funding us?’ asked Finn.

  ‘IXR has security forces more impressive than most nations’ armies,’ Higgins explained. ‘For the last decade they’ve been fighting wars around the world to keep control of their mines. I know a lot of guys who left miserable army pay to work as contractors for IXR or one of the other mining companies.’

  ‘Makes sense, I s’pose. Still, seems a bit odd that a publicly-listed company is more a front for a private army,’ said Finn.

  ‘Hunt, you’re a soldier now. Leave the business and the politics to those who give a rat’s arse.’ Higgins was in no mood for an ethical discussion over the rights or wrongs of how wars were fought in the 2030s.

  Finn took the hint and started examining the crates of gear.

  ‘All right, you lot. No time to piss about ogling the kit,’ Higgins said, gathering the men. ‘We need the supplies on the Mule loaded into the mine and a perimeter secured. Hunt, you and Carver grab the two Centurions down there and come with me. The rest of you get moving,’ ordered Higgins.

  Heaving two large, rectangular metal boxes between them, Finn and Carver awkwardly carried them out of the mine, following Higgins.

  ‘Okay. Drop one here and bring the other one,’ said Higgins, setting off up the narrow valley.

  About a hundred metres from the mine entrance Higgins stopped and waited for Finn and Carver, who were struggling with the weight of the Centurion.

  ‘Deploy it here, lads,’ ordered Higgins.

  Three short metal legs dropped down from the box and the Centurion was placed, facing up the valley. Higgins opened a panel on the back and started punching in settings on a small keyboard.

  ‘Okay. We’re live,’ said Higgins, more to himself. Tapping his earpiece, he muttered, ‘Lieutenant, do you copy? North Centurion is in place. Can you confirm comms link?’ he paused, listening. ‘Okay, very good, moving out to set up Centurion South.’

  Turning to look at Finn and Carver, he explained. ‘We can all sleep easier tonight knowing these guys,’ he patted the Centurion, ‘are on watch. Any unwanteds come down here tonight and this guy will be one mean welcoming party.’

  Higgins arranged a thermal camouflage net over the Centurion, and gestured to Finn and Carver to move on. ‘Right. Let’s get the southern one done.’

  That night spirits were high, though they had to keep the noise low. The men were clearly pleased with themselves. They had pushed hard to get to the base before the next satellite passed over. They had endured days on the convoy and were now doing what they had joined the army to do — to soldier.

  Higgins stood in the mine entrance, facing inwards to the men who were sitting eating their food. ‘All right, men. I know you’re all pretty happy with yourselves after today. It was a big hike and we achieved our objective. But let me remind you, our work hasn’t even begun yet. Tomorrow we will begin preparations for our first operation, so finish up your grub and take a shit if you need to because the satellite will be coming over in 30 minutes and we don’t want some young Chinese technician seeing an image of one of you lot with your white arses hanging out.’

  Finn slept soundly that night. Thankfully, he was not on watch duty until the following day.

  The next morning they were awoken by Higgins. Again, there was no fuss, very little noise. The men got out of their sleeping bags, rolled them up and put them away. Dressed, they went to the assigned latrine area, came back, brushed their teeth and ate breakfast, all in relative silence. There was apprehension in the team. It was coming home to them that they were in unfamiliar surroundings, and for three of the eight soldiers, Carver, Jessop and Finn, this was their first time in combat. Normally, a soldier straight out of training would not be expected to go on a mission like this, but in the current circumstances there was little option. Australia had to send who it could, not who it should.

  The squad gathered at 0700 hours for a briefing on the day’s activities. The equipment that had been left needed to be inspected and a complete inventory of all their gear completed. Solar panels were to be set up outside to recharge the numerous batteries they used. Small satellite dishes and aerials were to be placed outside the mine entrance. A mass of cables, which were all covered in dirt, led back into the mine. An Atmofier was set up outside which, in outback conditions, could produce up to 40 litres of water a day from two sources: sucking water vapour out of the air and condensing it, and filtering the urine of the men. Finn preferred not to think too much about the second source of the water. By mid-morning the area had transformed into a buzz of activity. From the air, however, their camouflaging would ensure their operations base looked like the rest of the barren landscape.

  Higgins and Taylor were musing over the unfurled, clear plastic screens that were hung on the walls of the dark, damp mine. They had their computer-generated maps of the area. Normally, the mapscreens would display the positions of their own ordnance and people. However, given the secrecy of the operation, their mapscreen showed only the area and the known enemy positions.

  ‘So, if we’re to attack here, there’s a good chance that they won’t be able
to divert a patrol quickly enough to engage,’ said Taylor.

  ‘We would be incredibly lucky, sir — that’s based on week-old intel. There’s no reason to believe the Chinese patrols are holding the same rotation and patrol grid,’ replied Higgins in a hushed tone, conscious of the other men listening in on their discussion.

  ‘Well, I don’t see much choice, Higgins. We need to execute our attack tomorrow at 1200 hours. If we don’t hit them here,’ Taylor said, jamming his finger to the point on the mapscreen and speaking a little too loudly for Higgins’ liking, ‘then there’s no way we can get our guys back before the satellite moves overhead.’

  ‘Yes, I agree,’ said Higgins calmly, trying to lower the lieutenant’s voice, ‘I just think we’re leaving a lot to chance on this, sir.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Taylor, taking Higgins’ hint and lowering his voice, but clearly indicating that the decision had already been made, ‘so who do we send? My pick is Carver, Hunt, Bull and yourself. Good mix of experience, and I think the sooner we blood Hunt and Carver the better.’

  Higgins looked at Taylor. He respected him but he also found his cavalier attitude a little hard to swallow sometimes. ‘Well, sir. I was thinking McCaw, Bull, Marks and myself. Hunt and Carver are too green for an op like this.’

  ‘No, I want those two blooded early. The sooner they see action, the sooner they become useful to the squad, and to this war,’ replied Taylor without hesitation.

  Higgins could see his point, but he didn’t like it. He’d seen enough young men slaughtered in the first battle. ‘All right, sir. I’ll round up the men. We better brief them and start going over the plans.’

  Higgins assembled the men and stood before them, beside the electronic mapscreen on the wall. ‘Tomorrow, at noon, we will be engaging the Chinese. We will be part of a coordinated series of attacks on the Chinese transportation lines and logistics centres. The first attack will start in the south. A further three attacks will occur, each moving north before ours at 1200 hours.