C.R.O.W. (The Union Series) (30 page)

‘What about
the dead?’ I asked. The body of one of our fallen comrades had been sat up
against the wall of the trench, his head lolling back unnaturally.

Sergeant
Evans was clearly in a rush, ‘Don’t worry about him, he’s been stripped of his
kit and he’ll get picked up at the re-org anyway. Just get those casualties out
or they won’t make it. I need to make my way forward. Happy?’

‘Yes, Sergeant.’

‘Let’s go
then,’ Sergeant Evans was off, running up the trench toward the battle with his
smart gunners in tow.

The three of
us lifted the two casualties on their stretchers out of the trench. The man
with the morphine moaned drowsily, but otherwise they barely made a sound. The
trooper with the abdominal injury cried with pain, his injury was such that
morphine could not be administered or it might kill him.

‘Don’t worry,
mate,’ Brown said reassuringly as we heaved him onto the lip of the trench, ‘You’ll
be fine.’

‘I don’t want
to die,’ the casualty said weakly, and sobbed.

‘You’re not
going to die mate,’ Brown laughed and patted the casualty’s shoulder as he
lifted himself up alongside him, ‘You’ll barely even get much of a scar from
that! What’s your name?’

‘Jackson.’

‘I promise
you you’re fine, Jacko.’

As I lifted
myself out of the trench I marvelled at how Brown sought to set the trooper’s
mind at ease, something I could never have imagined him doing only two days
ago.

I saw that the
sergeant major had marked himself and his work party on my visor display with a
bright blue crosshair. They were only about fifty metres away in a slight dip
in the ground that barely concealed them from the enemy. Several troopers from
the work party appeared to be arranged into a defensive formation around the
sergeant major’s buggy, a tiny little two-seater with a trailer and little more
than a roll cage as protection. He beckoned to us furiously.

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 Cit
y

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 crossed 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.

Westy stood, ‘Roger. Browner, let’s
go.’

Browner ran toward the door, drawing a
sledgehammer he had taken out of the dropship hours before from his daysack
like a man might draw a sword and at the same time Westy took a grenade from
his pouch and turned the dial. They stacked up together by the door, weapons at
the ready whilst the rest of us closed in behind them.

Internal doors in the majority of New
Earth dwellings, we had been told, were air tight but simple in their
construction, since they were not competing against a vacuum. They often swung
on hinges and looked like a hybrid between a normal everyday Earth door and
that of a fridge. Because of this it was relatively easy to take a locked one
down with a sledgehammer - even in this day and age, it’s amazing what you can
do when you hit things!

As Browner raised the sledgehammer,
Westy poised to throw his grenade. The section commander tapped him on the
shoulder, ‘Do it.’

Browner swung the sledge with all his
might against the door with an almighty crash, but the door barely budged. He
hesitated, surprised that the door had withstood the impact.

‘Swing it again! Again!’

Browner struck the door a second time,
and again. On the second swing the door seal broke fractionally and on the
third a gap just large enough to fit a grenade was formed. Something was
propped against the door on the other side. There were beams of light flashing
around behind the door and I recognised them instantly- infra-red torches.

I think the Chinese opened fire
slightly before Westy pushed the grenade through the gap, but I couldn’t be
sure because everything happened so fast. They sprayed automatic fire into the
wall to the wrong side of the door in the mistaken belief that that was where
we stood. Fifty-fifty chance - left of the door or right of the door - but they
chose wrong. Darts punched holes through the wall as if it was made of paper,
and we dove for the ground before they could hit any of us.

A Chinese voice screamed from through
the door.

Westy had only dropped the grenade on
the other side of the door. This wasn’t ideal because it would be possible for
the pinkies to throw it back, if it didn’t frag us through the door anyway.

Realising the danger, Browner quickly
grabbed the handle to the door and pulled it shut.

‘Browner, no!’ I shouted at my comrade
as the rest of the section hugged the ground, but he wasn’t listening, he was
too busy fighting a tug of war with somebody on the opposite side.

The grenade detonated after three
seconds, sending the door and Browner crashing to the ground in a cloud of
smoke and dust.

‘
Man down
!’ The dreaded words
were repeated by every man.

Immediately after the grenade
detonated Westy charged into the room, kicking away the remains of a piece of
furniture that must have been used to block the door, firing as he went. Stevo
paused, so I shoved him forward after the section commander and then followed
as well. I was desperately worried that Browner had been hurt, but my training
took over and I knew we had to clear the room or lose the initiative over our
enemy.

The room was as dark as a warren
tunnel, forcing us to scan rapidly with our infra-red torches. It was a large
lounge-type room that had clearly been used to sleep maybe ten to twenty
Chinese soldiers. Thermal bags were strewn across the carpeted floor as well as
random items of personal equipment.

I fired into an upturned table and
couch in the centre of the room, possibly used to hide behind as protection
from the blast. Splinters and bits of stuffing flew across the room like
confetti.

A Chinaman emerged from a doorway to
our left, strafing holes along the southern wall and barely missing me. If I
hadn’t been in a half crouch I reckon I would have got one straight in the head.
Instinctively I span to face my foe and fired two shots back at him, only I
didn’t miss. The two rounds hit him square in the chest, punching straight
through his body armour, and he dropped like a stone.

Brooks entered the room behind me,
bringing his mammoth gun to bear on the doorway I had fired into.

The mammoth spat death, its magnets
screaming like banshees as it ate into its ammunition drum. Thankfully my
earphones filtered out the terrible noise as he sprayed along the wall with
hundreds of supersonic darts. The high velocity nature of our weapons meant
that they penetrated walls with ease, but the Chinese shared the ability. Nowhere
in the house was safe.

I checked around the room as Brooks
closed on the doorway. Two pinkies had died behind the couch, but by the state
of them I figured it had probably been the grenade that had killed them, and
not me. Another had died by the door where he had fought against Browner to
return the grenade. Only a gory mess remained of him, barely distinguishable as
a man. There were two windows on the eastern wall, but both were smashed out
and sealed with sandbags.