First Strike by - (reading e books .TXT) 📕

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 pass 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 shining 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 crap 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.”

“Jesus,” muttered Garcia as she crossed herself.

A second later, a shot rang out, echoing off the walls of the buildings. The wounded warrior slumped back, dead.

“I guess one of our snipers decided to get rid of the bait,” Cole said dryly.

Sheridan stood there for a moment looking out at the dead man. He shook his head and then slumped down onto the sandbagged parapet. The thought, it’s going to be a long and brutal war, flashed into his mind. He suddenly felt tired as the adrenaline seeped out of his system. A growl from deep inside his stomach told him to eat something while he had the chance.

“I was waiting for someone else’s guts to bark out,” said Agnar as he ripped open a box of rations and tossed the meals around.

Sheridan grabbed his food out of the air. He let out a chuckle. He had spaghetti, his favorite meal. Thank God for small things.

Cole looked over at the soldier who could sleep anywhere and said, “Marine, what’s your name?”

“Private Angus Macdonald,” replied the Marine.

“Well, Private Macdonald, you just volunteered to become the platoon runner. Pack your kit and make your way back to the company CP and stay there until you’re sent back here with a message for the Mister Sheridan. Keep your head down and make sure that you can find your way to and from this bunker in the dark.”

The soldier nodded his acknowledgment and began to grab what few things he had, jammed them in his pack and left.

“I’d give a month’s pay for some working comms gear,” said Sheridan.

“Might as well save your money because it ain’t gonna happen,” Cole replied. “From paper maps to runners to an enemy that still believes in human waves, we’ve stepped way back in time to fight this war.”

Agnar asked, “Sir, when do you think they’ll come again?”

“I suspect they’ll spend the rest of the day massing their forces and then come at us late tonight or early tomorrow morning with everything they’ve got.”

“Sounds about right,” added Cole as he removed the magazine from his rifle and checked how many rounds were still in it.

Sheridan took a quick glance outside. The snow was coming down heavier than before; it was hard to see more than ten meters through the swirling blanket of snow. He couldn’t see the wall of Chosen bodies lying out on the cold ground anymore. “Sergeant, what do you think, should we do one last check of the squads before the sun sets?”

“Yes, sir, I was about to suggest the same thing.” Cole grinned; they were beginning to think alike. A good sign for any command team.

Chapter 18

The silvery light from Derra-5’s twin moons shone over the silent field of battle. Although only a third of the size of Earth’s moon, the two celestial bodies seemed to fill the cold night sky.

Sheridan rubbed his hands together. Ever since it had stopped snowing, the temperature had dropped considerably. He could see his breath hanging there like a fine mist each time he exhaled. 

It was just after midnight. A fresh blanket of snow covered the ground.

“I guess they’re not coming tonight,” said Agnar.

“It’s still early,” Sheridan replied, checking his watch.

“I wish they’d come. I’m freezing,” complained Garcia.

“They’ll come when they are good and ready,” added Cole.

Sheridan couldn’t believe that anyone could be alive out in the bitter cold. Nevertheless, he could hear several Chosen warriors moaning in the dark. The sound was unsettling. If he thought he could trust the Chosen, he would have dispatched Garcia to see if she could help with the wounded. However, Cole was right. He couldn’t trust them, and he wasn’t about to risk her or anyone else’s life. Sheridan was about to turn away when a slow, steady rumbling noise in the distance seemed to grow louder by the second. He picked up his night vision binoculars and looked out over the Kurgan lines. His blood turned cold when Sheridan spotted a row of monstrous sized tanks rumbling toward them. He had seen pictures of Kurgan tanks from the last war, but these seemed to dwarf them. He guessed that each one stood well over five meters tall and was at least fifteen meters long. Its turret was sloped with a large gun mounted in the center. He instantly recognized the armament as a rail gun, a deadly electromagnetic projectile launcher capable of firing a projectile straight through any known armored vehicle in the Terran arsenal. Behind each behemoth were columns of Chosen soldiers, using the super-sized armored beasts for cover.

“Here they come!” yelled Sheridan. A split second later, the Kurgan tanks’ rail guns began to glow blue from the electromagnetic force being built up to fire their lethal shells.

He barely had time to warn everyone to take cover when the tanks opened fire. The building shook violently as one of the projectiles hit the room they had been using earlier, tearing it to pieces. The sound of the rail guns’ shells tearing through the air at thousands of meters per second reminded Sheridan of a fighter’s engine flying directly overhead.

All along the Marines’ line, the tanks engaged the houses the defenders had fired from. If Sheridan hadn’t ordered all of his men to move to a new location, they would all be dead by now.

Cole crawled up beside Sheridan and peered out at the sea of armor as it rolled toward them. “There’s no way in hell our Cobra anti-tank missiles will be able to stop that,” he said, shaking his head.

“Not from the front or the sides, but could they from above?” Sheridan asked.

“Yeah, they just might.” Turing about to face Agnar, Cole said, “Grab the anti-tank launcher and head up onto the roof. I want you to try to take out the tanks as they drive by.” 

Agnar hauled the only spare Marine in sight with him as he picked up the launcher and an arm full of missiles.

As the tanks rumbled closer, the other Marine anti-tank teams all along the line fired off their missiles in an attempt to stop the metal horde. As expected, the projectiles harmlessly detonated on the thick armor without penetrating inside. A second later, the Kurgans returned fire, wiping out the crews before they could move to another firing position. Silhouetted against the light of the twin moons, like so many wraiths, dozens of enemy drones flew in for the kill. Missiles streaked out of the sky hitting anyone unfortunate enough to be caught out in the open. Sheridan prayed that they wouldn’t spot Agnar before he had a chance to kill at least a couple of tanks.

Within seconds, the tanks were less than one hundred meters away and closing fast. Sheridan could feel his heart racing in his chest. He hoped that his men listened to him and wouldn’t open fire on the Chosen until they could reach out and touch them. He wanted the enemy so close that they couldn’t bring their other weapons, such as their drones and now their tanks, into the deadly battle about to be fought in the shattered streets without hitting their own soldiers. The two platoons on either side of his position opened up early and were instantly attacked by the tanks and the swarm of drones hovering above in the night sky.

The wait was intolerable. Sheridan had to force himself not to open fire on a group of Chosen warriors that he could see through a side firing port as they jogged behind one of their mighty tanks. Silence gripped the bunker. The only sound was the ragged breathing of the people as they waited for the storm to break.

Rather than expose themselves on the roof, Agnar had stopped on the top floor of the building. Warily, he crawled forward, got up on his knees and peered out of a destroyed window at the long line of enemy tanks. Agnar knew that it would take twenty meters for their anti-tank warhead to arm itself. He picked a vehicle about fifty meters away crushing some rubble under its wide metal treads as it moved toward First Squad’s position. Agnar didn’t know much about the Kurgan tank’s capabilities, but he didn’t doubt that they had a laser warning indicator somewhere on the vehicle. He decided to forgo using the laser on his launcher to aim with and used the weapon’s iron sights instead. He took a deep breath, picked a spot on the top of the enemy tank and slowly pulled back on the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Agnar glanced down and swore. He had forgotten to take the safety off. Flipping it to armed, he took aim again and pulled the trigger. With a loud whoosh, the missile shot from the launcher and struck the top of the tank. In the blink of