Part 12 (2/2)
”Cease fire,” yelled out Sheridan as Kurgan smoke rounds fired by their artillery fell from the sky obscuring the enemy forces as they fled back to their own lines.
A loud cheer broke out from the battered Marine defenders. A young soldier patted Sheridan on the back and then let out a whoop.
”We got 'em sir,' said the Marine. ”They ain't so tough.”
Sheridan shook his head. ”That was just a probing attack to pinpoint our positions. They'll be back and next time they'll bring armor for intimate support.”
”Armor?”
”Yeah, the Kurgs are just like us. They have tanks and I'm sure they're not afraid to use them.”
Sheridan turned to look out on the battlefield. It was a sickening spectacle to behold. In front of his platoon, were several hundred Chosen soldiers. Most were dead; however, several dozen lay there moaning in agony, while several more dragged themselves over the bodies of their comrades as they tried to make it back to their trenches. Sheridan knew from reading about the last war that Kurgan commanders did not believe in evacuating their wounded off the battlefield. They didn't have medics at unit level. It was G.o.d's will if you lived or died.
He shook his head and turned about. ”Garcia, I'm going to check on the platoon. If a runner comes from the CO, send him my way.” With that, he opened the door to the bas.e.m.e.nt and climbed the stairs. The smell of burnt wood filled his nostrils. Carefully, moving over to an open door at the back of the building, he peered out and saw that the path was clear. Stepping out, he heard gla.s.s from the shattered windows break underfoot. He sucked in air through his teeth as his heart raced in his chest. So much for being quiet, he thought to himself. Sheridan lifted his foot and looked for a better place to put it down. He warily edged to the side of the house and peered around the corner. When he didn't see any movement coming from the long line of Chosen bodies, he sprinted across the open ground to the next closest house and slid inside through a hole blasted in the side of the building.
Sergeant James greeted Sheridan with a weary smile. ”Looks like we gave them a good a.s.s kicking, eh, sir.”
”They'll be back,” replied Sheridan. ”I want you to adjust your positions in the house. No one is to be where they were the last time the enemy attacked.”
”Why's that?”
”Because they've probably identified all of our positions with laser target designators and when they come again, they'll blast the h.e.l.l out of those locations first.”
”Got it, sir,” responded James.
Sheridan pushed on through the wrecked house until he came to another opening in the wall. As before he made sure it was clear before das.h.i.+ng over to the building where Cole and the heavy-weapons team had been. He climbed over a pile of rubble and made his way up inside the home. It was unnervingly quiet. Sheridan called out, ”Sergeant, are you in there?”
”Is that you, sir?” replied Cole.
”Yeah, where are you?” asked Sheridan unable to tell where the voice was coming from under all the debris covering the floor.
”Believe it or not, we're on the floor below you. When the missiles. .h.i.t, the floor gave way and dumped us down here.”
Sheridan pushed some burnt timbers out of the way and bent down so he could down into the next floor. He gritted his teeth when he saw Cole wrapping a field dressing around Agnar's bloodied head. The front of the soldier's uniform seemed to be caked with blood and dust. ”Where are the other men?” he asked Cole.
”Obermman and s.h.i.+elds are both dead.”
Sheridan swore. ”What about the machine gun?”
”A total write off,” replied Cole. ”There's no way it could be repaired unless there was a weapons tech around and I doubt we're gonna see one of them in our neck of the woods for a long time.”
Sheridan asked, ”Is there a way out of there?”
”Yeah, there's a hole in the wall large enough for us to crawl through.”
”Ok then, you and Agnar head back to the command bunker and wait for me there. I'm going to check on the rest of the platoon before I head back there.”
Cole looked up and nodded his head. ”Hey, sir, keep your head down out there.”
”Trust me, I will. I have no desire to end up as a notch on some Kurgan drone operator's desk.”
Almost an hour pa.s.sed before Sheridan made to back to his command post. Cole and the rest of the people there had moved into the next room and were busy sandbagging the new firing ports.
”How are the squads holding up?” Cole asked.
”James' squad is alright. Singh lost a man and Lanihan has two slightly wounded who refuse to go back to the aid station.”
”So, three dead and three wounded. We came off fairly light, if you ask me.”
”Yeah, I doubt we'll be so lucky in the future.”
An out of breath soldier staggered down into the bunker and gave Sheridan a message. While he read it, Cole made sure the young man got some water. With all of their communications gear jammed, they had reverted to using runners to pa.s.s messages. A hazardous duty with all of the Kurgan hunter-killer drones circling the city ready to blast anything that moved out in the open.
Sheridan signed the note and handed it back to the Marine, who headed out to the next platoon position.
”What's up?” Cole inquired.
”Just an update from higher. We're to expect another attack in the next few hours. This time they'll be backed up by armor.”
”You called it, sir,” remarked Garcia.
Sheridan grinned. ”I'm not that bright. It's the benefit of studying the last war that gave me the foresight to know what to expect. Their equipment may have improved like ours, but for some reason, their tactics are still mired in the past.”
”It worked for them before didn't it, sir,” said Agnar.
”Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't,” responded Sheridan.
”Hey sir, look, it's snowing,” said the Marine who had been praying during the artillery barrage.
Sheridan grinned. At last Lady Luck was s.h.i.+ning down on them. The enemy's thermal vision equipment would be severely degraded in the blowing snow. For as long as it snowed, the enemy would be blind.
A voice called out. It was a Chosen speaking Kurgan.
Sheridan edged to a firing port and peered outside. He could see a wounded man shot through both legs trying to sit up.
”What's he saying?” asked Garcia.
”He's asking for help,” responded Sheridan. ”He wants us to put him out of his misery.”
”I'll gladly do it,” said Agnar as he reached for his rifle.
Sheridan shook his head. ”I'd rather take him alive. I'm sure regiment would love to interrogate him.”
”No one's going out there!” warned Cole. ”I've seen this kind of c.r.a.p before. On Setius-5, the rebels told their people that if they were wounded to call out for help. Same thing's happening here. He's trying to draw someone out so a Kurg sniper a kilometer away can kill him. He knows his life is forfeit, he just wants to take one of us with him.”
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