Tasmanian SFG, Book II: Devils to Me (Tasmanian series 2)

by C. R. Daems

  Perfect, I thought. Each group had two snipers, an explosive, and a medic specialty, that is with me being counted as an explosive and as a sniper, but then my group had five members. I went about looking for good spots for the enemy to find decent cover from both shooters on the way to my group and rigged each with an explosive device, then found myself a place to hide until the enemy would be ripe for the picking. I thought we could handle thirty but little more. If the enemy cooperated, fat chance of that, I mused, we could possibly help Smitty ambush the vehicle convoy if they sent one.

  Five hours later, I could hear the Libertao moving at a double-time march, and fifteen minutes later, they came into sight–twenty-five strong. They carried standard assault rifles and two had RPG-like shoulder missile launchers and two others each had a fifty-caliber machine gun.

  "Taipan, you have the two carrying the machine guns," I said quietly into my TCom, thinking they were making too much noise to hear my whispers. Besides, they were at least forty meters away. I sighted in on the lead man carrying an RPG launcher, clicked on my TCom, waited for the countdown to finish, and fired. The shot hit him in the head. He spun around and landed several feet away. Before he hit the ground, I had acquired the second man, who stood stunned in my crosshairs, and fired. At least six were dead by now. The others were either on the ground, or diving for cover, or paralyzed with inaction. The latter five died next.

  "Charge," a stocky man shouted while rising with his rifle pointing up the slope and firing in our general direction. Most rose and began running toward us while shouting and wildly shooting. Another five went down before they began seeking to find cover. I clicked on my TCom and the Tasmanians below the path began firing. They shot the three who hadn't followed the order to charge and had remained on the ground before selecting other targets. Chaos reigned as those who had charged realized they had no place to hide from both groups firing at them. Several activated my traps, thinking they had found cover which made the remain few desperate to leave the area. No one escaped the carnage. For the most part they were inexperienced troops use to shooting at targets that didn't shoot back and had been caught by surprise. As I stood to take inventory, I received an urgent message.

  Fox, we blocked the two trucks but they either heard the fighting or where notified somehow. In any event, they abandoned the trucks and appear on their way towards you. Expect about forty with assault weapons, RPGs, and machine guns. Smitty.

  I sat, knowing my team would assemble around me. Sure enough, when I opened my eyes, my team was sitting in front of me. "I have four shitty solutions. First, return to Harjar, have the colonel get us a shuttle, return to Fort Lochay, and develop a new plan using the army." I looked around my team and saw no enthusiasm for that scenario. "And I would expect the Libertao to burn the town to the ground for revenge. Anyone in favor of the first alternative? I'm not asking for a decision, just your own personal opinion." No one said anything and everyone was imperceptibly shaking their heads, which I interpreted as they would follow but wouldn't like it. "Second, is to meet the forty Libertao troops coming after us. I doubt we have time for a good ambush that we could win, but I doubt more than one or two of us would survive. What about option number two?" I asked. Again no one said anything, but I saw a few halfhearted nods and shrugs, which I interpreted as not a great idea but not totally unreasonable. "Third, we could head away from the Libertao troops while looking for a spot to ambush them. Better odds of winning and a few more surviving." I saw mostly shrugs, which I interpreted as the better of the three. "My last solution is to follow this path and see if we can find their main camp and make the word Tasmanian the worst curse in their language."

  "Taarah," they shouted in unison.

  "Funny, that's the solution I had decided on," I said, knowing it was the most dangerous option of the four and the one most likely to get us all killed and yet the most appealing. "Let's collect their RPGs and machine guns and any other weapons and ammo that can be of use, and then let's be ghosts." While they worked, I typed a message to Smitty.

  Smitty, I've decided to try and find their main camp. I want you and Bulldog to be our eyes and ears on the forty Libertao troops. Fox.

  Smitty replied instantly.

  Fox, Taarah, Flintstone.

  "Alright, let's get moving. One scout out in front and one trailing. Let's keep the surprises to a minimum.

  * * *

  Three hours later, I received a message from Smitty.

  Fox, the leader of the Libertao isn't happy with the mess you left. He doesn't appear to know which way you went, so he is sending runners in three directions. Flintstone.

  I immediately called everyone to me. "The Libertao is sending scouts looking for us. I thought we'd ambush him quietly," I said.

  "They will know which way we went," Jafar said.

  "Maybe," I said as I typed a message to Smitty.

  Smitty, can you have Bulldog ambush the scout to Harjar, quietly. We are ambushing the scout headed our way. Might want to set a trap for the fun of it in case they split their force. Fox.

  "Bulldog is going to take care of the scout to Harjar, so the Libertao leader will have to split his forces or make a decision to go one way or the other," I said, as my team melted into the surrounding landscape. I was hoping to reduce the forty Libertao's numbers and slow them down, so they weren't running up our asses before we found their main camp. They had us boxed in and may win in the end, but I planned the price to be outrageous. An hour after we got settled, a man can running down the trail. I sighted in on him with my CheyTac as he ran toward my position. When he stopped to look at the ground, I squeezed the trigger. He was propelled off the path as the quiet pop from the suppressor was heard. I spent the next hour rigging several explosive charges along the path timed to detonate simultaneously with the detonation of the last one in the chain. They were set ten meters apart to inflict the maximum carnage for a group bunched together–the lead man would trip the trap. Not only he and anyone close to him, but whoever was ten and twenty meters behind him would be caught in the resulting triple explosion. Even if someone found the trap, disarming one would act like a dead-man's switch and trigger the other two. I silently thanked Smitty for the hours of classroom instruction. When I was satisfied, I collected my team, and we were off again. An hour later, I received another message from Smitty.

  Fox, scout to Harjar dead. Trap set. Smitty

  And two hours later.

  Fox, Libertao leader upset. Only one scout returned. He split his forces. Half to Harjar and half after you.

  Smitty, after he leaves set traps for those returning that survived your Harjar trap. Fox.

  Two hours later, I heard the triple explosion and a few minutes after that, another explosion far in the distance.

  "Let’s find shooting positions on both sides of the path. I believe our pursuers might now be in a competitive weight class. Same rules of engagement as the previous bunch," I said as I headed up the gentle slopping hill, hoping their number had been reduced to a one-on-one fight.

  * * *

  I heard them before I saw them. But they were coming from the west not the east–so they must have called for reinforcements. As they passed, I counted thirty. The thirty would have been risky but added to the unknown force only minutes away, it could have proved overwhelming. I would love to have sat and given the situation some thought, but I doubted we had a lot of time to spare before those thirty-plus, at least some part of the Libertao forty, would be returning.

  Without a word, I left my cover and began walking up the road, and within a minute, my team was back in our original formation with a leading and trailing scout. On reflection, I didn't think meditation would help since we weren't in control of the situation. We were not only lost in enemy territory but surrounded by an enemy of unknown size and capability. Worse yet we didn't have enough ammo and explosives for a prolonged engagement.

  Then another message from Smitty.

  Fox, the good news
: you killed or seriously wounded over half of the twenty that went in your direction. They've stopped to treat the wounded and rest. The other half of their detail, which went toward Harjar, have just arrived. More good news, they also lost half their number when they tripped my traps. The bad news, they were just joined by thirty fresh looking troops and are on the move again in your direction. Smitty.

  "Smitty informs me we have fifty troops following us now, which I estimate are less than two hours behind us," I said to keep everyone informed or maybe hope voicing the problem would illicit a solution. It did.

  "We could stop and kick their asses before we go look for their main base," Tarantula said loud enough to be heard. That was greeted by a quiet, Taarah. In a way, the suggestion wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded. We would eventually have to make a stand, here or at their main base, or somewhere else, and ideally at a place of our choosing and while we had sufficient ammo. My musing was interrupted by shooting from up ahead, and a minute later, Wolf appeared.

  "Looks like a training camp a couple of hundred meters ahead. There is a cluster of upward of a hundred camouflaged tents, a group of men on a shooting range, and another group marching," he said between gulps of air.

  "How many?" I asked and mentally crossed my fingers.

  "Fifteen on the firing range, twenty marching, and ten or so instructors. Don't know how many might be in the tents, if any." Wolf smiled. "They aren't expecting us."

  I sat, needing a quiet mind, especially now as my mind was jumbled with conflicting priorities: the fifty behind us who would be running to engage us when they heard the fire fight. The forty-plus below who would disperse when the firing started, and an unknown number in the tents. Add to that our limited ammo for a prolonged engagement, and where should those who survived retreat? When I opened my eyes, everyone was calmly sitting around me, except for Spiderman who was standing on lookout.

  "Alright, our two borrowed fifty-caliber machine guns will set up in that heavily treed patch." I pointed to a cluster of trees some forty meters from the path and several meters lower. They would be shooting upward, and the bullets that missed or were through-and-through shots would be trapped by the upslope on the other side of the path. And fifty caliber bullets would produce many through-and-through shots. "The borrowed RPGs will be positioned on the upslope." I pointed down the path thirty meters and on the upslope of the path, where a few larger trees stood. That area provided an excellent view of the training area below. "The snipers will be there." I pointed to a group of small trees and shrubs fifty meters upslope. "And everyone else will be in that clump of rocks." I pointed to a rocky section about twenty meters below the sniper location. Everyone was smiling as they began to realize this was to be our final stand.

  "The snipers will begin our assault," I said looking at Mamba, Taipan, and Panther. "We will target the firing range. The second the marching troops look to realize the base is under attack, the RPG group will target them." I looked to Peppermint and Salamander. "I expect the fifty troops chasing us will arrive shortly afterward. The noise from the RPGs should have them running to engage us. The machine guns will engage them. I expect they will scatter, most upslope, some back the way they came, and some continuing forward." I smiled. "At that point, you can target whomever you want. Survivors can meet on the road above and maybe catch a ride home," I said not expecting anyone to survive. No Tasmanian was going to leave his brothers while one remained alive. I stood and blew them a kiss before heading for my position. Once there, I found a comfortable spot with good ground cover to keep me concealed. Then I typed Smitty a message.

  Smitty, we are making our stand here. You and Bulldog will be responsible for anyone trying to escape back the way they came. Survivors will meet on the road above the path. Fox.

  I got an immediate response.

  Fox, Meet you there. Flintstone.

  Having no reason to wait, I sighted in on the firing range, clicked on my count down signal to the snipers, and began slowly applying pressure on the trigger. At the chime, I heard three pops and fired. I sighted on the next man in line, who was looking at his dead buddy, and fired. Now several had jumped to their feet and were looking wildly around. Four were flung backward as I heard the explosions from two RPG rounds. Now all the men on the firing range and their instructors were down. I scanned the tents and selected men coming out to investigate the noise. There were less than ten. Soon, a deathly silence descended on the camp–at least from this distance. Through my scope I could see there were several wounded, most looked serious. Normally we would finish them, but ammo was getting low and everyone was saving it for those who would soon be coming.

  A short time later, I heard the enemy shouting and saw a cloud of dust from their troops running. Five minutes later, the enemy came into view, some fifty meters away, looking like a monstrous snake slithering toward us, fangs showing. They had abandoned all caution as they raced to meet the threat. When they were fully exposed, I clicked on my machine gunners' icon and they immediately opened fire. The Libertao were so close together in their rush to get to the action, it was almost impossible to miss hitting someone, as it was for them to get untangled enough to mount a reasonable defense. The half who survived the butchery scattered like an exploding bomb. But they were disoriented, were not seasoned veterans, and had nowhere to go–snipers upslope, machine guns downslope, Peppermint and Salamander further up the path and Smitty and Bulldog behind them. That was all good news…until my rifle clicked on an empty chamber, then my Tavor, and finally my Jericho. And I knew I wasn't alone. I left my position scrambling downslope to aid my brothers. One of the Libertao men smiled as he saw me running toward him, raised his rifle and fired a second after I had thrown myself on my ass. Before he could lower his rifle to shoot me, I slid into him feet first. His legs shot out from under him and he fell face first onto my combat knife. Soaked with blood, I rolled him off me pulled out a throwing knife and looked for a target. Smitty stood twenty steps away smiling, occasionally shooting at someone who moved.

  "I hope all that blood isn't yours," he said while scanning the area. Now all the Tasmanians were standing.

  "Fortunately for you, I'm one click," I said. "Peppermint, Salamander, what's your status?"

  "Salamander's two clicks, I'm one click," Peppermint responded.

  "Everyone who’s not wounded, check to make sure our opponents are either dead or a prisoner. All wounded collect over here for an inspection. No exceptions," I shouted. The space gods must be asleep, I mused, we should all be dead. The only thing that saved us was the chaos that resulted from being caught bunched up on a narrow path with nowhere to take cover. It also helped that they weren't combat veterans who would have been less prone to panic.

  Miraculously, only five of my team were wounded, including Spiderman, who was manning a machine gun and had troops shooting blindly in the direction of the unending chatter of gunfire. He had a shoulder wound which was disabling. Salamander on an RPG received two wounds to his thigh as a few troops attempted to continue forward on the path when the firing started. Smitty received two wounds, one to the arm and one to his side, and Bulldog one in his right side as several Libertaos attempted to retreat back down the path when they couldn't find cover. Tarantula had left cover after having run out of ammo when the fighting became one-on-one; he had a shoulder and leg wound.

  "Everyone not wounded, I want you to investigate the training area. It would be nice to have a live Libertao to give us information about any weapon stashes, vehicles, and or other bases. While you're at it, we either need ammo for our weapons or ammo for new weapons and maybe a vehicle," I said. "I'm staying to help Peppermint with the wounded. Don't take any unnecessary chances…that means no more wounds."

  "Yes, Mother," Taipan said as he, Mamba, Panther, and Wolf wandered off in the direction of the training area.

  They returned two hours later. "This was the Libertao's main camp for training," Mamba said, speaking as the group's spokesman. "None o
f us have medical specialties, but the five men still alive were in no condition to be saved without the facilities available on a cruiser or at a major hospital. A few were talkative, thinking the medics with us could save them if they cooperated." He shrugged apologetically, probably for misleading them or thinking I cared. "Collectively, the consensus was that the Libertao Army had close to two hundred men. They have three more bases. A weapons' stash here." He pointed to a spot on the meter square map he was carrying. "What they call an R&R group of houses, which held captive women and had senior staff quarters, and a vehicle storage and maintenance area for their trucks and off-road vehicles." Again, he pointed to the map and then smiled. "We found ammo for all our weapons, including the fifty-caliber machine guns and the RPGs."

  If their count is close, the Libertao can't have more than sixty soldiers remaining, and they are spread over three sites. And with luck, they may send a group out here to train or to investigate," I said after hearing their report. "We need time to rest, so let's get our wounded under cover and consider our next move."

  * * *

  We left the dead bodies where they fell, hoping anyone would think the troops that killed them had left, and we moved several tents behind the firing range and out of sight. I left Peppermint to treat the wounded and Wolf as a lookout along with the machine guns and RPGs, and I took the three unwounded snipers–Mamba, Taipan, and Panther–to scout out the three remaining locations. It took us an hour to climb up to the road.

  "Single file twenty meters of separation," I said, not wanting us to be caught bunched together and an easy kill. Without answering, Mamba took the lead, Taipan followed and to my surprise, Panther motioned for me to precede him. I smiled at the protective gesture. Wanted to make sure their leader didn't get killed and someone would have to take her place, I mused. We saw no vehicles or people on the road for the next hour. Finally, Mamba stopped and pointed to a single-story house built from logs.