Kildar pos-2

by John Ringo

  “We’ve got a good view of the valley,” Adams said. “You’re in view. Speaking of which, so are the guys behind you.”

  They were crossing a plowed field with a hint of green showing on it. The farmer was out of his house, plowing in another field. When he saw the camouflage-covered men burst from the trees he dropped the traces of the plow and began running for his house. But not as fast as Mike, Praz and Lasko were running.

  “I am… getting tired,” Lasko grunted.

  “Gimme your pack and weapon,” Mike said, dropping back and pulling the pack off.

  “I can… make it…” the Keldara replied, struggling to hold onto the pack.

  “Fuck that,” Mike said, snatching the pack off the older man’s back. “I’m younger and in much better shape for this. Praz, how you doing?”

  “I’m going to die tired,” Praz grunted but kept moving.

  “Kildar, be aware, the pursuing group is in view of you,” Adams said.

  Mike heard a round crack overhead but they were most of the way across the valley, at least three hundred meters away, and muj shooting was notoriously bad. All they had to do was make it to the tree line.

  “Fuck,” Praz grunted, stumbling to his knees and then back up. “Took one in the body armor.”

  “You okay?” Mike asked as he slithered down the bank of the main valley stream. It was wide and shallow, easily fordable, instead of the mountain torrent they had crossed on the hillside. For that matter, it offered a moment’s cover but they couldn’t stay there.

  “Fine,” the sniper said, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

  They scrambled up out of the stream with rounds cracking around them and darted across the last open area to the woodline, reaching that concealment without anyone getting hit again.

  “Spread out,” Mike said, handing Lasko his gear and moving to the east. “We’re going to have to shoot and move towards the trail.” He dropped behind the stump of a fallen tree and started searching for targets. The Chechen force had moved out into the valley and was running towards them but they were more than four hundred meters back.

  He lined up one guy who was gesticulating and pushing some of the laggards, taking him down. He jacked another round into the Mannlicher and shot the next guy in view.

  Praz was engaged as well and Mike had taken down five targets when the Chechens hesitated and then began running back for the opposite tree line. By the time they’d gotten there, Lasko was finally shooting and before they reached the trees there were twelve bodies scattered on the green field. The farmer’s ox, meanwhile, had wandered away to the west, away from the gunfire.

  “Lasko,” Mike called. “Move up the hill to the east. Stay concealed as much as you can. Move about thirty meters, find an overlook spot, then call.”

  “Yes, Kildar,” the Keldara said. Mike could hear him move out, barely; the hunter was remarkably stealthy.

  Mike spotted a Chechen moving on the far hillside and lined him up. He fired and saw the man drop out of sight, dead or at least wounded. Okay, maybe just scared and fast.

  Some of the men on the ground were only wounded and one was crawling back towards the tree line. Mike let him get about thirty meters from the tree line and then carefully shot him in his remaining good leg. The man waved at the tree line for help, dropping back to the ground, then lifting himself up.

  “You’re a bastard,” Praz said.

  “Wait for it,” Mike replied. Sure enough, a Chechen darted out from cover, running to the man’s side.

  “Yours,” Mike said.

  There was a crack from Praz’s rifle and the “rescuer” fell to the ground.

  “Kildar,” Lasko said, over the radio. “I am in position.”

  “Go, Praz,” Mike called. “Leapfrog past Lasko.”

  There was a sudden fusillade of shots from the far tree line and another Chechen darted into view. Mike ignored the shots, most of which weren’t even making it to their position, and again waited for the Chechen to reach the injured man in the field. This time, though, he shot him as he lifted the man up.

  “You are a bastard,” Praz said over the radio. “I’m in my spot. Lasko’s well up the hill; don’t get in his line of fire.”

  Mike pulled out of his position, moving slowly up the hill from bush to bush. The trees gave plenty of concealment but he wasn’t willing to take chances at this point.

  “Kildar,” Lasko called. “I can see the main force of the Chechens at the opening to the trail. They are closing on your position.”

  “Roger,” Mike said, swearing faintly. “I’m heading for the trail. You two, keep the second body under fire. When the main force gets fully in view, head straight up the hill to the first switchback.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mike quit trying to move slowly, instead going as fast as he could on the steep hillside, moving from one handhold on a tree to another. In a few minutes, he reached the trail and looked out towards the south.

  The main body of the Chechen force was deployed in the field with a machine gun setting up to the west. He dropped to his knees and lined up the machine gun, taking out the gunner and AG and then darting onto the trail. At this point he was about five hundred meters from the Chechens and while he was in sight he was depending upon the distance and moving to avoid being hit. The machine gun might have gotten him, they were better for long distances, but so far the Chechens’ personal shooting had been no great shakes.

  He stepped onto the trail and looked back at them, waving his rifle over his head and then putting it to his shoulder. As the group opened fire, he carefully lined up one of the fighters and shot him through the head. Then he turned and ran up the trail. The first bend was less than twenty meters away but by the time he reached it the trees around him were dropping leaves from the flurry of shots.

  The trail was steep and any time he came in view of the valley he took fire so he had to hurry. By the time he got up to the area of the defile, he was puffing and blowing hard.

  “Adams…” Mike gasped. “You see me?”

  “Got you in view, man,” Adams replied evenly. “Come on through.”

  Mike looked up the hillside from the defile as he ran through but even knowing there was an ambush up there, it was hard for him to spot the positions. Adams had apparently spent the night carefully laying in the ambush and the Keldara positions were fully covered and bunkered. The most noticeable thing was that much of the vegetation on the uphill side of the defile was gone. But even the places where there had been scrub had been filled in with fallen leaves so it looked nearly natural; the fact that they were firelanes was almost impossible to spot. A few lumps at the base of trees were probably claymores covered by fallen leaves but Mike couldn’t spot so much as one bit of wiring or detcord. It was unlikely the Chechens would spot the ambush until it was triggered.

  “When you get to the next switchback, Otar will guide you into your hide,” Adams said.

  “Where are the bad guys?” Mike asked, slowing down. The high rock wall gave him all the cover he needed.

  “There are three groups,” Adams said. “The group that was to the west that was chasing you is moving over to the main group. That’s split with one group headed for the trail and another heading straight up the hill. I don’t see any sign of the mortars.”

  “Russell, you there?” Mike asked.

  “Here, boss,” the Ranger replied.

  “Can you see what’s going on?”

  “Negative, we’re on the back side of the hill to lead Vil in.”

  “Send Vanim on a sneak over to the other side of the hill,” Mike said after a moment. “Tell him to see if he can spot the mortars. If they open up, definitely try to spot them. We don’t want them engaging Vil’s group, especially. You two may have to take them out.”

  “Will do,” Russell replied.

  Mike trotted through the rest of the defile, reaching the switchback in a couple of minutes.

  “Kildar,” Lasko said, ri
sing out of the bushes as he reached the bend.

  “Good to see you,” Mike said. “Where’s Otar?”

  “He is in the hide,” the Keldara replied, turning up the trail. “With Sergeant Praz.”

  Mike followed the Keldara up the trail until he paused and turned down the hill. They slid down a steep portion which stopped at a level spot. As Mike hit the level spot, he realized it was hollow. The bunker was so well camouflaged, he hadn’t realized it was there until he was standing on it.

  “Nice,” he said as a spider hatch opened in the back.

  “Come on in,” Praz said, grinning. “All the comforts of home. These Keldara can dig like motherfuckers.”

  The bunker was deep and wide, with a central firing area and two basementlike wings. It was a sizeable construction to be completed overnight. The top was covered with tree trunks and the firing holes were small; Mike wasn’t sure even a mortar could do much to it other than from a direct hit on delay. Maybe not even then.

  Despite its size it was crowded with Praz, Lasko, Killjoy, Otar, the two Keldara who had apparently constructed it and Mike. The Keldara were loaded down with ammo vests, body armor and helmets, ready for a solid fight. They didn’t look scared, however, just eager.

  “Good to see you,” Mike said to the Keldara in the bunker. “Nice place you’ve got here,” he added, shaking their hands.

  “It is much like the shelters we make when out tending the sheep in summer pasture,” Lasko said, looking around. “Stronger, but much the same.”

  “All it took was a little digging,” one of the Keldara said, shrugging. “We worked in teams with one team cutting trees and bringing them down to the bunkers and the other team doing the digging.”

  “Adams,” Mike said, peering out of the bunker and seeing nothing but the end of the trail and trees, “I’m blind up here. What you got?”

  “Main body is on the trail,” Adams replied. “The second group is moving up the hill. They’re not moving very fast. They shot up the woodline before they got there and have been crawling up ever since. I think the main body will get to the defile before they do at this rate.”

  “I should have brought up the mortars,” Mike said over the radio.

  “Nielson thought of that,” Adams said, somewhat smugly. “They’re up on the ridgeline with the heavy instructors, a team of females to handle them and a security team of instructors.”

  “Glory be,” Mike said. “Russell, you hear that?”

  “Heard it, boss,” the Ranger replied. “When’s Vil going to move?”

  “Not until we spring the ambush,” Mike said. “What’s the status with Vanim?”

  “I am on the far side of the hill, Kildar,” the Keldara answered, quietly. “One of the mortars is set up in a clearing near the end of the trail. I do not know how to say it better than that.”

  “Peters, you on this circuit?” Mike asked.

  “Roger, Kildar,” the heavy-weapons NCO answered.

  “Talk Vanim over to another channel,” Mike said. “Then use him to adjust the mortars. Can do?”

  “Can do,” Peters replied.

  Mike ignored the conversation as the NCO carefully explained how to change frequencies. He was blind as a bat and that bothered him. All he could see was the end of the defile.

  “Kildar,” Adams said. “The main body has reached the defile. The second group is heading up the hill but they’re about a hundred meters below it and the slope is steepening out. You’re actually one of the security positions and I’m a little worried about that group. Don’t let them sweep around you.”

  “Got it,” Mike said. “Have Vil’s group start moving. By the time they’re in view, we should have the main body’s full and undivided attention.”

  “Vil’s moving,” Nielson said over the circuit.

  “Guys,” Mike said to the two Keldara who were looking out their firing ports nervously. “Is there any way we can dig out a couple more shooting points? It seems a shame to have six guns in here and only two able to shoot.”

  “Yes, Kildar,” one of the Keldara said, setting his rifle against the side of the hole. “Right away.”

  “Main body is fully in the defile and moving to the ambush point,” Adams said a couple of minutes later. The Keldara had found points they could dig through and Vanim and Killjoy had spots to shoot from at least. Mike put them on the points since their SPRs, a highly accurate M-16 variant, would be better in a firefight than the sniper rifles. “All positions, stand to. Initiating.”

  There was a thunderous roar from the defile as the claymores detonated, followed by screams from humans and mules. This was followed by a growing roar of fire from the hillside as the Keldara poured fire into the defile.

  There was a crack from one of the Keldara rifles and then another as the Keldara cursed.

  “He is hiding behind a tree,” the man muttered, angrily. “Coward.”

  “There’s another,” Vanim said, firing. “Got him.”

  “I’ll just sit here and twiddle my fingers,” Mike said, doing just that. “Keep an eye to the right, guys. We’re expecting company that way.”

  There was an explosion to the left of their position, a mortar round Mike was pretty sure. Then he, faintly, heard the rumble of shells overhead.

  “Peters just counterbatteried their mortar,” Adams said. “It’s out. I’m shifting him to your control. Go to channel three.”

  “Peters?” Mike said on that channel. He peered past Lasko, looking for the men working their way up the slope.

  “Go, Kildar,” the mortar NCO replied.

  “I don’t have anything here, yet,” Mike said then paused. “Stand by. Right, from my position, two hundred meters, azimuth…” He checked the compass in his binoculars. “One eight three.”

  “Shot over,” Peters said no more than five seconds later. “We had that laid in already.”

  “Shot out,” Mike replied. He could see the group of Chechens struggling up the steep hill. The granite that created the defile made the hill nearly vertical along its length.

  “Splash over,” Peters said a few second later.

  “Splash out,” Mike replied. There was a tremendous explosion in the trees between his position and the struggling Chechens.

  “Polar,” Mike said. “Azimuth One Eight Three. Drop fifty, fire for effect. Troops in open in woodland. Mix delay and quick.”

  “Roger,” Peters said. “Incoming.”

  In a few moments rounds started to drop among the Chechens of the second group, some of them exploding in the trees to rain shrapnel down on the exposed fighters while others penetrated on delay to explode on or near the ground. Otar and one of the original Keldara had engaged the group of Chechens and before long Mike could see the survivors turning and skidding down the hill on their butts.

  “Cease fire,” Mike said over the circuit. “Switching to command freq.”

  “Padrek, on your right!” “I got him, I got him!” “Father of All, where did he come from? Yakov, to your right there, behind the oak, I can’t get him…” “CUT THE CHATTER!” “Where did that last one go?”

  The main freq was jammed with the excited Keldara passing word back and forth and Adams trying to settle them down.

  “CEASE FIRE!” Adams shouted over the net, getting stepped on twice. Mike could hear him blowing a whistle at the same time. Finally, the fire died down and the Keldara cleared the command net.

  “Team Oleg,” Oleg said, as soon as he could be heard. “By odd numbers, up out of your positions and take over watch for evens.”

  “That is us,” one of the Keldara said.

  “Stay here,” Mike replied. “The rest of us will get out. You guys keep this door closed.”

  Mike, Lasko and Praz crawled out of the bunker and looked towards the defile. The ground was hazy with propellant and the remnants of the dust from the claymores, but he could see the trail was littered with bodies.

  He’d expected the Keldara to be whooping it up
, as a group of muj probably would in similar circumstances. But they weren’t. Teams were up out of their bunkers and prone, pointing their weapons into the defile.

  “Even numbers, out of your bunkers,” Oleg said, grunting as he apparently was climbing out of his. “Prepare to sweep across the objective.”

  “Team Vil is in position,” Vil’s voice said on the circuit. “There are Chechens filtering out of the woods.”

  “Shag ass,” Adams growled over the radio. “Push the rest out of the woods before the others get to the other side of the valley. When you’re firing into the valley, aim low. Don’t hit your buddies on the other side.”

  Mike spotted the chief sliding down the hill to his left and angled that way, sliding towards the defile himself. The Keldara were moving forward in pairs, with one covering the top of the defile as the other headed down.

  When the first group reached the defile, they ignored the few wounded Chechens, moving in pairs to lift one another up to the top. When most of the group was on top, they continued down the hill.

  Mike caught up to Adams in the defile and shook his head.

  “Was this training or what?” Mike asked.

  “We rehearsed twice,” Adams said. “After we had the bunkers in but before we camouflaged. Training, I guess. And some natural talent. You were right; these guys are good.”

  “I’ll give you a leg up,” Mike said, making a stirrup of his hands.

  He and the chief made it up and over the wall, following the Keldara down the hill. The Keldara were moving fast but carefully, occasionally trading shots with some of the Chechens on the hill. But the Chechens were mostly just trying to run away.

  When Mike got to the base of the hill he could see the Chechens reversing his earlier course across the fields, running for all they were worth. One group was nearly at the far tree line, with the main group of survivors, no more than fifty of them, halfway across.

  “This is an awful way to make a living,” Mike said, sliding to a halt and keying his mike. “Vil, engage.”

  A burst of fire came from the far hillside, raking the Chechens that had nearly made it to the tree line. Mike could see a line of machine-gun bullets pock down the field and into the group which, at the unexpected fire, stopped and began firing back, most of them still standing. There had been about fifteen in the group when the fire started and the first burst killed more than half of them, spotting more bodies onto the green field.