Intemperance Volume 2 Standing On TopChapter 16b
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GreeniesChapter 16B free porn video
They worked they way down to the bottom of the hill and exited the access point on the back side of it. Two hundred meters east of the access was a landing zone where the wounded were being triaged and flown out. Two APCs from the support battalion were parked here, their doors open. Three medivac hovers were sitting on the ground around them, their engines at idle. Two of them had the rear ramps down, the other was sealed up. As they carried their injured companion in that direction the sealed one suddenly flared bright red in the infrared and lifted in the air. It turned to the east and began heading for Eden, flying low.
The immediate triage area was the easiest to find. It contained the largest number of medics and evac soldiers. It also contained the largest number of wounded.
"Put him down over here," a medic commanded them when they entered the area.
They did so and the medic immediately kneeled down next to him and began running a scanner device over him. They heard him sigh as he examined the findings. He shook his head and stood back up.
"What are you doing?" Nguyen demanded. "His light didn't turn red! The doc says he needs to go out right away!"
"Sorry," the medic said, "but he's a goner. Brain activity almost nothing, heart rate less than thirty a minute, no voluntary respiration. He'll never make it back to Eden."
"You gotta fuckin' try, man!" Nguyen said. "Jesus Christ! You can't just let him lay there and die!"
"He doesn't have a chance," the medic said. "There's a lot of people out here who do have a chance and I'm not gonna take up space on a hover with someone who's gonna be dead before they even make it twenty klicks. I'm sorry, man. That's the way it's gotta be."
Nguyen shook his head angrily and fingered the rifle slung over his shoulder for a moment. He took a few deep breaths, dropped his hand and turned away. "That's fuckin' cold," he said.
"I know," the medic told him. "I wish it didn't have to be this way. This section got hit hard. I gotta go check on the other guys." With that he walked away, heading for the group of casualties closest to the front of the line.
"I'm sorry, Nguyen," Jeff told him, patting him on the back. "That fuckin' bites ass."
"Yeah," Nguyen said. "A lot of things bitin' ass tonight, huh?"
With that he turned and walked away, heading back towards the trench entrance. Jeff watched him go, his feet seemingly unable to follow after him.
Two figures approached him from the direction of one of the hovers. As they came closer and he was able to resolve their facial features with the infrared enhancement, he recognized them as Drogan and Hicks. Both of them were looking a little shell-shocked.
"Did you get your guy down to the hovers?" Jeff asked.
"We got him down there," Hicks said. "He's still waiting to be loaded. The medics said there's worse people that need to go first."
"How about yours?" Drogan asked.
Jeff pointed at the still body on the ground. "He gets to stay here," he said. "Medic says he doesn't have a chance."
They all contemplated that for a few moments, staring at the soldier's wrecked face, at the holes drilled in his leg and neck, at the green light on his suit that suddenly turned a lethal red as he finally, mercifully died.
"I guess he was right," Hicks said.
"Yeah," Jeff agreed. "Is this goin' on all up and down the line, you think? Does every fuckin' hill out here have this many casualties?"
"Not every one," Drogan said. "The medics told us the Earthlings hit the hardest in the center of the gap, where we are. A lot of the hills were hardly touched. They just decided to pound on this one because it's guarding the biggest opening."
"Which means they're gonna pound on it just as hard when they send the infantry after us," Hicks said. "We're on prime fuckin' real estate, man and the next time they're gonna be shooting those eighties at us. We'll be the ones laying down here, abandoned with fuckin' holes in our necks."
"They're not abandoning the living ones," Drogan said. "Just the corpses. You stay alive and they'll get you out of here. I watched how hard the medics are working to save those people."
"That'll make my mom feel real good when she gets the email that the Earthlings blew my face open," Hicks said. "She'll also love to know that they left my dead ass out here for all eternity. That she won't even get my ashes to put in a fuckin' jar."
"So what are you saying, Hicks?" Jeff asked. "You had enough?"
Hicks breathed deeply, looking around at the controlled chaos of the evac area, watching as two more groups of soldiers brought two more casualties down. "I didn't sign up for this shit," he said. "I mean... I knew I could die out here, but I didn't know... you know... that I could die like this."
"I'll admit," Drogan said, "it ain't as pretty as candlelight glinting off a wet pussy."
Her attempt at humor fell short.
"I ain't goin' back up there," Hicks said, looking at the hillside.
"You gonna walk back to Eden?" Drogan asked him.
"If I have to," he said. "Or I could hitch a ride on the back of one the support APCs. They're at least going back to the main line. I can get back from there."
"You're serious about this?" Drogan asked. "You're gonna leave us right before the battle? Abandon your platoon?"
"It ain't my fuckin' platoon," Hicks said. "It's Queen Laura the First's platoon and I ain't dying for her."
Jeff looked at him pointedly and shook his head in disgust. "Ain't that just like a fuckin' Thruster?" he said. "Throwing in the towel as soon as the shit gets a little too heavy."
"Hey, fuck off!" Hicks told him. "This don't have nothin' to do with the Thrusters or the fuckin' Capitalists."
"Sure it does," Jeff said. "This is the reason we kicked your asses off Ninety-Second Street and took over one of the finest dust selling locations in the whole city. We went after you and put the heat on you and you all caved like little kids on the schoolyard. The same fuckin' thing you're doing now."
"I told you, you didn't beat us! We pulled out of there 'cause of the heat, man!"
"You made that excuse to save face with yourselves," Jeff told him. "You know as well as I do that you couldn't take the heat from us. A couple ambush attacks, a couple of your main dealers blown away, and you went crying home and tried to say the cops are what made you do it. That's fuckin' bullshit and so is your Queen Laura rationale. You told me you voted for her, remember? You told me you wanted to fight to make Mars free, that you were fucking willing to die for it, but now that the shells have come flying in, now that you've had to look at people who did die for it, you're pussing out and making excuses about it. Go ahead and fuckin' leave, Hicks. We don't need some Thruster pussy up there anyway."
Jeff could actually see Hicks' face turning red. The increased blood flow showed up quite nicely in infrared. "I don't want to die, man!" he said. "Don't you understand that?"
"You think I want to die?" Jeff asked him. "You think I'm suicidal or something? You think I ain't scared shitless about what's gonna happen when them tanks come rolling on our position the next time? I am, man. I'm fuckin' petrified. But I'm going back up there and I'm gonna fight those assholes until they tell me to stop or until they drag my ass down the hill with half my head blown off. You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because I think we're gonna win this war," he said. "I think we're gonna be free. And twenty years from now, when they're teaching kids in school about the Battle of Jutfield Gap and the Battle of Eden, I wanna be able to say I was there, that I killed Earthlings there, that I fuckin' helped win the war. And if I ain't alive to say that, my fuckin' parents and my fuckin' friends will say it for me. What are you gonna say in twenty years, Hicks? You gonna tell people you was at the Battle of Jutfield Gap but as soon as the enemy shot a couple shells at someone else's fuckin' position you ran away like a little girl who saw a rat in the hallway?"
Hicks looked away from Jeff's face and stared up the hillside again. He shuddered a little and then turned back to them. Slowly he nodded. "You never would let me live that down, would you?" he asked.
"I wouldn't give you a second thought the moment you climbed on that APC and went away," Jeff told him. "But it ain't me you gotta worry about. Would you ever let you live it down?"
"No," Hicks said. "I guess I wouldn't."
"All right then," Jeff said. "So you coming back up the hill with us, or what?"
Hicks shifted his M-24 on his shoulder. "Let's go," he said. "Maybe we can catch a little nap before they come back."
They walked back to the trench entrance and started back up. On the way they passed three more wounded being brought down.
"Casualties are higher than expected," General Jackson told the image of Laura Whiting on his screen. "We held their tanks at the Jutfield Gap, but only barely. We were actually in the process of withdrawing our forces to the blue line behind the gap when they decided they'd had enough and turned back."
"I see," she said, her eyes probing. "What are the numbers?"
"Two hundred and sixty-three dead at Jutfield," he recited. "Half that many wounded and out of action. We lost fourteen tanks and eighteen APCs. A number of the trenches and tank positions got torn up as well and are unsuitable for primary protection in the next engagement. The commanders on scene are shifting units around to plug up those holes."
"And at New Pittsburgh?" she asked.
"It's not as bad there," he told her. "The gap protecting the New Pittsburgh approach is narrower and hillier, allowing us to concentrate more troops in a smaller area. They threw them back after only ten minutes. Seventy-five were killed, ninety wounded. Only eight tanks and twelve APCs lost. We did lose two Mosquitoes and their crews there, however. They apparently crashed into a hillside while making a run. The lead underestimated a turn and went in, the wing followed right behind."
"Inexperienced pilot?" she asked.
"Yes," he confirmed. "That and the fatigue factor is probably the cause of the accident. Some of those guys have done more than a hundred sorties since the invasion started. They're trying to keep the pressure up on the Earthlings and only getting three or four hours of sleep a day."
"Anything else?" she asked.
He nodded. "We also had a hover go down while evacuating wounded out of New Pittsburgh. More than likely that was a mechanical malfunction. Everyone aboard is confirmed dead."
"What about Libby and Proctor?" she asked next.
"It seems General Wrath might have learned from the beating he took at Eden and NP. The tank units were pulled back from Libby and Proctor before they even got in range to engage. That's a mixed blessing. Proctor has the narrowest defensive gap of them all, only fifteen kilometers wide. We would've massacred them in spades there and it's doubtful they would have even got close enough to put accurate fire on our trenches. At Libby, on the other hand, we have the widest first-line defensive corridor. It's almost seventy kilometers wide and there are several places they can flank it if they choose. We're spread extremely thin through that area and we have to keep one of the ACRs uncommitted and in reserve to defend against a flank attack. They more than likely would have been able to push through and open a corridor if they would have concentrated forces on the center."
"So how bad off are we?" Laura asked, not wanting to get into a discussion about what might have happened. "Why were the casualties so high at Eden?"
"I think the very factors that we've been trying to instill in the Earthlings might have worked against us to some degree."
"What do you mean?"
"Fatigue and breakdown of command and control at the platoon and company level," he said. "We've achieved that goal quite admirably. It's apparent just by watching how their units maneuver. They're all over the place out there, in nothing like a military fighting formation. They're more like ants advancing on a piece of chicken, coming in from all directions with little order or organization."
"And that worked against us?"
"When they came in to hit the positions in the Jutfield Gap, they didn't stick to their zones when attacking. Instead, all of the individual tank platoons seemed to fire at whatever they perceived to be the greatest threat against them. As a result, some of our trenches and tank positions took three and four times the volume of fire they were designed to withstand while others remained completely untouched. We didn't count on them being so haphazard in their engagements. We expected them to spread their fire across the entire gap, which we could have easily absorbed except for the occasional lucky shot that happened to make it through a firing hole."
"Is there anything that can be done to rectify this?" she asked.
"Not much we can do about the tank and APC positions," he said. "As for the trenches, I've ordered that any position under overwhelming cannon fire hunker down and that any position not under fire expand their zones to maximum in order to draw fire away. The battalion and company commanders will be the ones to initiate this. Hopefully it'll help."
"And how is troop morale?"
"Variable," he said. "It's in the danger zone on the infantry and tank units that got hit hard and took heavy casualties. Among the units that didn't get hit hard, however, it's about as high as we could expect."
"Desertions?" she asked.
"About a hundred at Eden," he said. "All from the units that took heavy fire. As per standing orders, support battalions are transporting them back to the main line if feasible. They can walk their asses back from there."
"And they're not being persecuted in any way?"
"I know your feelings on that, Laura," he said. "There is no official persecution going on against the deserters. When they make their way back to the city we'll discharge them and note in the personnel computers that they're ineligible for further military service or benefits. As for unofficial persecution from their peers..." He shrugged. "There's not a lot I can do about that."
"Understood," she said. "What's happening out there now?"
"The peepers are showing that they're formed up just over the horizon in all cities under attack. They're re-arming the tanks by APC shuttle from the supply and refuel point."
"Should the Mosquitoes be attacking those re-supply units?" she asked.
"I considered it," he said. "It's what conventional military thinking would dictate. But I still think our air assets are best utilized for doing what they do best — killing the WestHem foot soldiers who will be climbing those hills and trying to dislodge our infantry. For now the Mosquitoes are continuing their attacks on the APCs in their staging positions and leaving the supply units alone. Mortar teams and sniper teams are in the hills surrounding these staging areas. The snipers are directing mortar fire onto the units that are re-loading."
"You're the military expert," she said. "What about the pilot fatigue and the pilot errors that caused the crash in New Pittsburgh. Anything that can be done about that?"
"The fatigue factor is something we're trying to deal with. I've commandeered as much of the coffee supply as I could get my thieving little hands on and I'm feeding it to the air crews and their maintenance crews. As for pilot error, I've sent out an order that only senior pilots with more than five hundred hours logged are allowed to fly lead in a combat sortie. Again, we do what we can."
"And again, understood," she said. "When can we expect them to send in the ground troops?"
"I think they're hoping to have time to regroup before they do that," he replied. "We're actually trying to push them to commit sooner. The air attacks are causing constant attrition on them so hopefully they'll decide to move before they've had time to properly plan an attack and get their people rested in any way."
She smiled, a weak, strained, fatigued smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Did I ever tell you that I'm glad you're on our side, Kevin?" she asked.
"You may have mentioned it once or twice," he said. "Now why don't you get some sleep? I'll have someone wake you when things start to happen again."
"I'll sleep when you sleep," she told him. "That's the rule, General."
"Yo, boss," Matt Mendez said as he shook Brian Haggerty awake from his slumber. "It's midnight. Start of a brand new fucking day."
Brian opened his eyes slowly and shook his head a little, blinking, trying to come awake. He was lying on a sleeping bag in the back corner of the Mosquito hangar. The sounds of ratcheting air wrenches, hissing fuel hoses, and cursing maintenance techs filled the air. "Midnight?" he grunted, rubbing a hand over the three-day stubble on his face. "Already? Seems like I've only been asleep for two hours or so."
"Very funny, boss," Matt said dutifully. Haggerty had been asleep for only two hours. "The ground pounders threw the WestHems back on their first attack. They're staging twenty klicks west of the gap, re-arming and re-supplying for an infantry charge according to Intel. Our bird is done being cycled. They want us wheels-up in thirty minutes to keep the pressure on."
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