The Long War - Part 4

The Village

     The regiment was assigned to a different sector of the front line.  My detachment was given a small slice of the regimental sector that only needed one platoon to man it at a time.  This gave me more time to prepare the men for the upcoming offensive.

     We weren’t given a lot of details for security reasons but looking at a map made it clear what the goal was.  The city of Drunev was about twenty kilometers north of the Brown lines in this sector.  The regiment’s first objective was to break through the Brown trench line and secure one of the forts forming a defensive network around the city. 

     The attack kicked off a week after we returned to the lines.  At nine o’clock in the evening, the artillery barrage began and continued through the night. 

     I tried to get some sleep but my mind was racing.  I thought of Olga.  I was sure she was in the area since the new walkers were certainly going to be part of the offensive.  One of the ideas we discussed was that we were the only real people in whatever this reality was.  As crazy as the idea was, I couldn’t help wondering sometimes how real everyone around me was.  I tried to dismiss such thoughts when they came.  Without knowing more, I had to assume what was happening in this world was real.  If I started thinking the men under me weren’t real, I might become reckless with their lives. 

     I tossed and turned until Patel stuck his head into my corner of the bunker.  “It’s oh three hundred, sir.”

     An hour later I led my men over the top of the trench line.  Dawn was still two hours away.  We crept forward about halfway across no man’s land under the cover of ongoing artillery bombardment.  The shelling ended at five.  We immediately rose and rushed the Brown trenches.  Most of us had our carbines slung across our backs and carried knives at the ready. 

     We jumped into the enemy trench line and moved quickly.  Most of the defenders were still disoriented from the artillery and were quickly dispatched by knife.  We tossed grenades into every bunker we found then rushed in to clear them.  When we cleared what was obviously the command bunker I blew three long blasts from my whistle to signal my men to set up a hasty perimeter.  The platoon leaders answered with their own whistles and sergeants barked orders.  I sent a runner to find the regiment, which was supposed to cross no man’s land right after us.

     Moments later the runner returned along with a rifle platoon and Colonel Massengale himself.  The colonel smiled broadly as he returned my salute.  “Good job, Rudko.  Keep pushing ahead.”

     I sent my men forward in dispersed platoons into the light woods behind the trenches.  We had lost the initial element of surprise so knives were sheathed and carbines were at the ready.  We met scattered pockets of resistance but no organized defense. 

     We skirted a road until late in the afternoon when we reached the remains of a deserted village.  It had been shelled by artillery at some point and most of the buildings were at least partially collapsed.  The inn was mostly intact so it became my headquarters.  I ordered the men to dig hasty foxholes and sent a squad to locate the regiment.  There had been the sound of heavy gunfire behind us and I needed to know when the rest of the regiment would join us.

     The squad returned just before dark.  After the sergeant in charge reported in I gathered the officers and First Sergeant Cochrane around a table at the inn’s main room.

     “We’re on our own, gentlemen,” I said.  “The Browns managed to launch a counterattack behind us.  The regiment’s advance was stopped cold and we’re three kilometers ahead of the closest friendly forces.  Our orders are to hold the village until relieved.”

     “Shouldn’t we pull back to friendly lines instead?” asked one of the new platoon leaders, earning him a glare from Cochrane.

     “The road through this village is the most likely route for enemy reinforcements heading to the lines.  If we can delay those reinforcements we may upset their plans.  That will give the regiment a chance to break through and link up with us.”  I paused. 

     “I want everyone behind cover, either in a building or a hasty foxhole.  Find good lines of sight for the machine guns.  As soon as the Browns realize we’re here they’ll try to drive us off.  Expect a long night, gentlemen.”

     Patel stayed back when the rest left.  “What’s the real deal?”

     “Just what I said.  We hold until relieved.”

     “We’re not equipped for this.  We only have a day or two of supplies.”

     “With any luck that’s all we need.”

     “Listen.  You and I both know there’s no way the regiment will reach us tomorrow.  The Browns don’t know we’re here yet.  We could slip away in the dark and be back in friendly lines by morning.”

     “Get a grip on yourself, Patel.  We have our orders and I intend to carry them out.  Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?”

    “Yes, sir,” he said, anger dripping from the words.  He saluted and stormed off. 

     Patel had a point.  We probably weren’t going to be relieved tomorrow.  We didn’t have the supplies or support for a proper defense.  I could have ordered a pullback to friendly lines arguing that the position was untenable.  But I wasn’t ready to give up the village without a fight.

     I walked the village perimeter about an hour later.  Most of the men had found positions in the ruined buildings.  The rest had been busy digging shallow foxholes.  The holes were the length and width of a prone man and looked uncomfortably like shallow graves.  Two machine guns covered the road north while the other two were deployed to the sides but could also cover the road south to prevent us being flanked.  I was satisfied by the progress made and called over Patel.

     “Tell the platoon leaders to go to 50 percent security.  Every other man gets some rest then switch every two hours.  Make sure the platoon leaders get some sleep, too.  They’ll need to be alert later.”

     “Yes, sir.”  Patel had cooled down but he was still not pleased with my decision.

     “Wake me up in two hours then you get some sleep.  I’ll be at the inn.”

     I found a dark corner of the inn’s main room and curled up inside my trenchcoat.  I quickly fell asleep.  

     I dreamed of the other world.  I was in a large tent lit by a pair of lanterns.  I was seated at a wooden table.  A young officer in the same fern green uniform I was wearing was standing nervously across the table from us.  

     “Captain, why did you fall back from your position?”  I asked.

     “We were taking heavy casualties, sir.  We were about to be overrun.”

     “What part of my “not one step back” order did you not understand?”

     “I had no choice, sir.”

     “Of course you had a choice, captain.  You could have followed your orders.”

     “I’m sorry, sir.”

     “No, captain.  You’re a coward.”  I drew the pistol from my holster and shot him in the face. 

     I jerked awake.  Was the dream a memory or a warning?  I dozed fitfully until Patel shook my shoulder.  “It’s been two hours, sir.”

     “Right.”  He helped me up to my feet.  “Get some sleep.  I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

     The first skirmish was just after midnight.  A group of enemy soldiers was moving down the road.  I passed the word to hold fire until I gave the signal and went to one of the machine gun positions covering the northern road.  In the bright moonlight I could see they were marching in neat columns with rifles slung. 

     “Shit, sir,” said the gunner.  “I can hear their sergeants calling cadence.”

     “Steady.  Let them get closer,” I said.

     When the enemy was about a hundred meters away I slapped the gunner’s shoulder.  “Open fire!”

     The machine gun’s staccato bark was joined by rifle fire from all along the line.  Most of the Brown soldiers in the first few ranks fell, the rest of the enemy broke and scattered for cover.  I raised my rifle and looked for leaders.  I shot anyone who looked like they were trying to rally troops.  In a few minutes it was all over.  The road and nearby woods were littered with enemy bodies.  What survivors there were had retreated to the north.

     I called for the first sergeant and Cochrane bounded over.  “Get some search teams together and check those bodies out.  Bring back all the weapons, ammo, and anything else you think will be useful.  And get all the papers from any officers.”

     “I’m on it, sir.”

     Patel and the platoon leaders met me a few minutes later back at the inn.  They reported we had taken no casualties.  “Well, the Browns know we’re here now.  Expect an artillery attack in a few hours followed by an assault.  When the first sergeant gets back distribute the recovered weapons and ammunition.  We’ll probably need them.  There’s still more work to do to get ready so let’s get busy, gentlemen.”

     Cochrane returned with enough rifles for everyone to have a second weapon.  He also brought back a pair of machine guns with boxes of linked ammo.  But the real prize was the armor piercing rifle.  The APR fired a 14 millimeter round and the recoil could break a man’s collarbone if he wasn’t braced properly.  But it was the only effective weapon we had against walkers. 

     The clear night sky was too good to last, of course.  Clouds rolled in at about three o’clock followed by a cold rain. 

     Mortar rounds started screaming in a little later.  We hunkered down until the shelling was over twenty minutes later.  Brown soldiers assaulted from the north and west.  Our machine guns kept up a steady staccato bark as I ran from position to position around the perimeter, shoring up gaps as men were hit.  At each position I would also look for any Brown leaders and shoot them.  We fought off three waves of assault before they broke off the attack in the early morning. 

     I sent Cochrane out again to search the enemy dead while I met with the officers.  The inn’s main room was full of casualties so we were in the kitchen. 

     “We have 13 dead and 22 wounded, bringing us down to under 90 soldiers on the perimeter,” said Patel.  “We’re low on ammunition for our weapons but have plenty for the Brown rifles.  The machine guns have about two hundred rounds between the four guns.”  The Brown forces used a slightly different caliber so their ammo wasn’t interchangeable with ours. 

     “Okay.  Consolidate the carbines and ammo into one squad per platoon.  Everyone else will use the Brown rifles.  Set up the captured machine guns on the north side and divvy up the linked ammo between our other two guns on the flanks.”

     “With the rain at least we have plenty of water.  The captured Brown rations double our food supply.”

     “I think the action will shift to the main lines for a while.  Let’s go down to 50 percent security and get some rest.”

     I walked the perimeter.  The foxholes were filling with rainwater.  The men bailed out the water but with wet muddy boots the onset of trench foot was just a matter of time.  I sent out patrols to reconnoiter the area around us.  It was also good for morale since being out moving around was better than sitting around waiting.  The patrols went out two hundred meters in all directions and reported no contact.  It looked like I was right about the enemy’s priorities.  We spent the day listening to the dueling artillery fire from the south where the regiment was engaged in combat.

     Cochrane brought back another prize from the enemy dead.  He presented me an officer’s pistol in a shoulder holster.  The pistol was a large caliber, 11.4 millimeter.  Our side didn’t issue pistols this big so captured ones were in high demand.  The shoulder holster fit snugly under my trenchcoat.

     At midday I entered the inn’s kitchen where Patel was rummaging through a Brown ration pack.  He opened a can and smiled when it turned out to be sardines.  He found a small package of crackers and began eating.  “Their rations are just as bad as ours,” he said between bites.

     I selected an oblong shaped can.  The label was brown instead of green and marked in the unreadable language the Browns used but it looked like canned beef.  I opened it and ate right out of the can.  It was the same salted boiled beef we had in our rations.  Of course it was reasonable for their rations to be similar ours, but it looked like they were identical except for the color of the labels.  It was the kind of detail that might not be noticed if you weren’t looking for it.

     “Still think we’re being relieved today?” Patel asked.

     “Don’t be an ass,” I said sharply.  “We’re doing okay.”

     “Thirteen dead men might not agree with you about that.  A lot of the wounded will probably join them soon enough.”

     “Are you done?  You’ve been at the front long enough to know men die in war.”

     “This time it’s a choice to stay here and die.  Your choice.”

     “What’s gotten into you?”

     “I’ve got a bad feeling about being here, Rudko.  Like someone’s walking over my grave.”

     “Listen to me, Patel.  We’re going to get through this.  And for crying out loud, don’t talk like that in front of the men.  Get some sleep.  You’ll feel better after some rest.”

     The sounds of battle stopped in the late afternoon.  I sent a squad south to try to link up with the regiment but they returned an hour later.  They had run into large numbers of Brown troops and had been forced to turn back. 

     The Browns started shell us after night fell.  They were using bigger guns, howitzers instead of mortars this time.  All we could do was hunker down and listen to the constant explosions.  As long as we stayed down we were safe from shrapnel but a direct hit on anyone’s position would be lethal.  It was a frustrating and maddening time that seemed to last forever. 

     The initial high rate of artillery fire gradually slowed from constant shell bursts to rounds falling every few seconds.  I could hear wounded men calling for help.  It was still dangerous but now we could move around a bit.  Cochrane was already up and about forming aid teams to collect the wounded. 

     Next to me Patel was curled up in a ball with a blank distant stare on his face.  He didn’t respond my voice or my touch.  I didn’t know if his current mental state was temporary or not but I didn’t have time to deal with it now.  I took him into the inn’s main room with the other casualties then went to check on the rest of my men.

     The men in the dug in positions had it the worst.  The men had been huddling in holes slowly filling with rainwater.  They were able to bail water out now but they were soaking wet and shivering.  A few positions had taken direct hits and what was left of the occupants was unrecognizable.

     The shelling lasted another hour then suddenly stopped.  I yelled for everyone to get ready for the infantry assault that was sure to follow.  The rain and darkness made it difficult to see the enemy soldiers until they were less than a hundred meters away.  But the rain and shelling had turned the open ground around the village into a muddy cratered landscape that slowed down the attackers.  The Browns assaulted three times before withdrawing.  The shelling started again almost immediately.  There was no sending Cochrane out to recover ammunition. 

     The rain stopped during the night and at dawn the sun rose on a clear cold morning.  We had less than half our original number manning the perimeter.  Even after moving the dead out of the inn, it was packed with wounded.  If we didn’t get relieved soon a lot of them would be dead as well. 

     Mid morning the artillery stopped.  We could hear sounds of battle to the south.  They seemed closer than yesterday but it might have been my imagination.  I at the western machine gun position talking to Cochrane about another scrounging mission when Patel walked up to us.  He saluted with a shamefaced expression.

     “I’m ready for duty, sir.  I’m feeling much better now.”

     I returned his salute. “Glad to hear it, Patel.  Go find the platoon leaders and have them meet me here.”

     “Yes, s…”  He collapsed to the ground before we heard the shot.

     “Sniper!” Cochrane and I yelled simultaneously as we dropped down.  I crawled over to Patel.  The round had struck him right on the bridge of the nose.  He had probably died instantly.  Patel had been my oldest friend in this war.  I bellowed in rage and dashed over to the machine gun, pushing the gunner out of my way.  I fired the machine gun in the direction the shot had come from.  I would have fired off the entire belt if Cochrane had not clamped a beefy hand on my shoulder and pulled me away. 

     “I’m sorry, sir,” he said.  “I know he was your friend.”  He didn’t say that we probably needed the ammunition I had just wasted but there was no mistaking the rebuke in his voice. 

     More shots rang out.  There were multiple snipers on all sides.  I popped my head up for a quick look around and saw Brown soldiers moving in the wood line.  “Get ready for an assault!” I yelled.

     Under the covering fire of snipers and machine guns the Browns were able get close enough to throw grenades then charge some of our positions.  The fighting was hand to hand at points.  But our line held and the Brown charge was repulsed.  Then I heard the distinctive boom of a walker main gun.  I dashed to a machine gun position on the north side and saw two Brown walkers lumbering down the road. 

     The Brown walkers were simply huge armored boxes on four legs.  The main gun was larger than the one we used but it was fixed in the front hull with a limited traverse.  One of the walkers sidestepped with its front legs then began firing its main gun at the inn.  The building collapsed, buried my wounded soldiers under rubble. 

     I heard the crack of the APR and saw Cochrane crouched behind the massive rifle.  He fired steadily at a walker until it stopped midstep and fell to the ground on its side like a wounded animal.  The other walker turned and fired.  The wall behind Cochrane collapsed and buried him. 

     I realized the gunner was slumped over his machine gun with a massive head wound.  I pushed him aside began firing at the remaining walker.  The rounds couldn’t penetrate the armor but I might get lucky and hit a vision port or some other weak spot.  The machine jammed after a few rounds.  I was trying to clear the jam when the walker’s side machine sprayed rounds across my position.  I fell to the ground feeling like a mule had kicked me in the chest.  I couldn’t catch my breath and the pain in my chest was excruciating.

…I was lying flat on a cold hard surface.  I was in a stark white room about 3 meters square.  I tried to move but I was immobilized.  I didn’t feel any restraints.  I was simply unable to move.  A strange man shaped figure was standing over me.  It was a uniform metallic silver all over with no facial features of any sort.  It waved a dark boxy device of some kind over my body…

     I looked down and saw frothy red blood staining the right side of my trenchcoat.  I fumbled open the coat and pulled out the heavy pistol.  I had no strength on my right side so I clumsily picked up the pistol in my left hand and struggled up to a sitting position.  The walker was turning to bring its main gun to bear on me.  I raised the pistol and fired until the pistol slide locked back, showing me an empty chamber.

     I had failed.  All I had accomplished was getting my men killed.  I stared at the muzzle of the walker’s gun and waited for the end.  I was gritting my teeth from the pain and barely conscious. 

     There was the boom of a cannon and the front of the walker cracked.  I looked over and saw a six legged Mark IV walker emerge from the woods and fire its main gun again.  The Brown walker split open and exploded as its ammunition detonated. 

     The Mark IV stopped and someone dropped out of its bottom hatch.  I watched her run over and heard Olga’s voice saying “Don’t you dare die on me, Peter.”

     I slipped unconscious.

…The silver automaton (I was sure it was a machine) finished its examination.  It turned away from me.  That’s when I noticed the other presence in the room.  It was a large creature covered in dark purple fur.  It stood on two legs but had four arms, an upper and lower arm on each side.  The automaton handed the device to the alien.  I noticed the alien only had two fingers and a thumb on its hands.  It approached and stood over me meeting my gaze.  Its eyes were a lighter shade of purple.  It bared its teeth at me.  I had no idea if that was good or bad.  I did know that it was probably a carnivore from the size and pointyness of its teeth.  It touched a button on the device…

     I woke up in a hospital ward.  Massengale visited me later that the day.  He was a general now wearing a shiny new star on each shoulder. 

     “Congratulations, Rudko.”

     “All I did was get my men killed, sir.”

     “No, Rudko.  Your stand in that village forced the Browns to divert forces that they could have used at the front.  Your detachment held off an entire Brown regiment.  Once we broke through the Browns were on the run.  We’ve reached the outskirts of Drunev.”

     “How many of my men survived.”

     “Twenty three.  All of you will get medals.  You and First Sergeant Cochrane will be getting the Cross of Honor.”

     “Cochrane survived?”

     “He’s a tough bastard.  Clawed his way out from under a pile of rubble with a broken arm before we found him.”

     “But still, sir.  Only 23 survivors out of 126 soldiers.”

     “The cost of war.  You’ll get over it.”  He shrugged.  “The doctors say you’re lucky to be alive but you’re healing remarkable fast.  Get better soon; we need you back at the front.”

     That evening Olga visited me.  It was after visiting hours in the ward but the duty nurse gave her a wink and nod when she entered.

     “I was so worried about you, darling,” she said, kissing me on the lips.

     “Listen,” I said in a low voice.  “Something happened to me when I was shot.  I think I saw who is really behind all this.  It’s even stranger than we thought.”