Side Show (30 page)

Dacik turned so quickly that he got dizzy again. He reached out to support himself against the Heyer.

"The clerks will both be okay. One's got a busted leg, the other a dislocated shoulder. Maybe head injuries on both," Lorenz said. "I think the gunner's dead, though, and the driver looks to be in real bad shape."

"Your radio working?" Dacik asked.

"No, sir. Blast must have zapped it. Yours?"

"Gone. You up to a little work?"

Lorenz took a deep breath. "I'll try. I think I can navigate, but don't look for any speed records from me, General." He got up almost as slowly as the general had. He started flexing and stretching, testing his limits. The pain in the back of his head was the least of his concerns at the moment. Hof Lorenz certainly didn't look like a parade-ground soldier now.

"First thing, we need working helmets. Then"—Dacik hesitated—"for the time being at least, I guess you're going to have to fill in as my intelligence officer, at least until you can get to Captain Olsen." Olsen was Lafferty's deputy.

"I think he's somewhere out with the point, General."

"Soon as you've got working helmets for us, give him a call. I'll want him back here as soon as possible. But radios first, working helmets. I need to know what the hell's going on."

—|—

There had already been a number of brief exchanges of wire along the 13th's perimeter as Schlinal patrols, up to company strength, tested the Team's defenses. None of those probes had come close to Echo Company yet, but twice men in one or another of the platoons had fired out into the woods, at some real or imagined sight or sound. Nervous men. Frightened men.

Joe Baerclau was nervous himself. Little information filtered down to him about what was going on around the perimeter. Most of the time, he could only try to guess based on what sounds he was hearing and how distant they seemed to be. In some ways, the waiting was always worse than the fighting that followed. It was certainly more difficult mentally. Once a fight started, you could respond more or less automatically, based on training and experience. Silent waiting took a different toll.

More than once Joe had to caution men to be quiet and to keep their vigil. Useless chatter over the squad radio channels might help ease the tension, but it could also be a deadly distraction. Joe had to fight his own urge to call Lieutenant Keye or First Sergeant Walker for information every few minutes. When there was something he might need to know, one or the other of them would call him. Joe smiled at the thought of having to fight the temptation to do almost exactly what the most inexperienced of the soldiers in his platoon were doing.

"Half and half," he told the squad leaders after forty-five minutes of the tense waiting. That meant one fire team in each squad on watch, the other to rest. As if rest might be possible. "Half an hour each, for now," he added. Echo's "peace" might end at any minute, or it might continue for hours. The longer the men were staring down their rifle barrels out into the night, the duller their minds, and their vision, would become. The less use they would be in the first seconds and minutes of the fight... when it finally reached them.

It
would
reach them. Joe had no doubt of that.

"Joe, come back to the CP for a minute," the first sergeant said.

Joe warned the squad leaders that he was leaving, then climbed out of his hole and trotted back toward the command post. He was one of the first to arrive, but in just a couple of minutes, all of the platoon leaders and platoon sergeants were there.

"I'll keep this brief," Lieutenant Keye said. Even though they were gathered together in a tight cluster, the lieutenant spoke over his helmet radio. That way he could whisper and still know that everyone would hear.

"We think we've got all of the major enemy positions around us charted now." Keye pointed to the mapboard open on his lap. "We might be missing some infantry units, but what we have is better than anything we had before."

"Helluva lot of red on that board," Joe said. Red marks indicated Schlinal units.

"The estimate is four short regiments of infantry, possibly three companies of Novas left," Keye continued. "Right now, it looks as if they're trying to make sure that we've got nowhere to go except—maybe—into the river. There've been no reports of Heggie movement on our north yet except for a couple of small patrols."

"They're setting us in the center of a horseshoe," Iz Walker said. "Putting in strongpoints, digging foxholes, the works. They're going at this carefully, as if they've got all of the time in the galaxy to work with."

"What about the shooting we're hearing?" one of the other platoon sergeants asked.

"Just keeping us occupied," Walker said. "Making sure we know they're around, trying to keep us thinking, and in place. That we don't mount any sorties. That line of crap."

"Which is why we're going to put out a patrol," Keye said, taking over again. "Baerclau, I want you to take your platoon on a little walk. Out a kilometer, unless you meet resistance sooner. Then take a left and give this outfit here"—he pointed at one of the red blips on the mapboard—"something to remember us by."

"How long do we keep at it, sir?" Joe asked.

"In and out. Give them a couple minutes' of everything you've got, then beat it back in. Don't let your men trip over any of your own mines."

"In and out through our own zone?"

"Right. Too many mines out there to try it any other way. Jump off as soon as you get back. Like now. The rest of you, have your men ready to provide cover when they come back in. They might need it."

Joe hurried back to the platoon's area. He alerted the squad leaders and assistant leaders while he was moving. By the time he reached his foxhole—just long enough to pull out most of the things he had stashed on the various ledges he had dug along the sides—the platoon was ready to move.

"First squad on point," he whispered into his helmet radio. First squad expected to be sent first. They certainly received that "honor" more than their fair share of the time, but no one in the squad, certainly none of the veterans, ever complained. A couple of the men had been heard to brag, "We go first because we're the best. The platoon loses fewer men when we're opening the way." The truth of that might be open to debate.

With first squad in the lead, it was their second fire team and Mort Jaiffer actually on point. Mort threaded his way through the mines that the platoon had planted earlier. He didn't assume that there were only Accord mines in the area, though. Heggies
might
have sneaked in close enough to lay a few of their own.

Until the platoon got out beyond the lines where they had planted mines and bugs, they were forced to travel in single file, with narrow intervals between men. Each soldier watched exactly where the man in front of him stepped. That was more important than watching for Heggies in the woods to either side. Enemy soldiers would make their presence known quickly enough. A land mine, friendly or hostile, would only make its presence known if someone tripped it.

At the front of the column, Mort breathed easily, pacing himself as carefully as he always did. After each step forward, he would look through a 180-degree arc, searching for heat signatures or any trace of unnatural movement. Then he would look at the ground just in front of him, choosing where he would next place a foot. Despite his caution, the platoon made good time. It always did with Mort on point. He didn't stop for longer than his routine required until he was far enough out that even the last man in the platoon would be beyond the lines of bugs and mines they had planted.

Joe followed first squad, less than forty meters behind the point. He tried to avoid thinking about anything but the demands of the instant, but a couple of times a worrisome thought invaded his mind:
I'm leading twenty-four men out into the middle of what might be close to eight thousand of the enemy.
Each time that happened, he would stop for a second, blink a couple of times, and swallow. It helped to clear his mind.

Once past their own early warning devices, the platoon shifted to a different formation. Joe put second and third squads out on the flanks. First platoon stayed in front, and fourth brought up the rear. Joe took up his position almost in the middle, actually staying with the trailing fire team of first squad. The intervals between squads, and among the men in each squad, were increased. Echo's 2nd platoon was getting closer to the enemy, and farther from friends.

Joe kept a close watch on the distance gauge on his helmet display. Just below the time line, the distance he had walked from the lines was marked. He had to glance up and to the left to see the display clearly. It had to be out of the way to avoid being a dangerous distraction. At 750 meters, Joe stopped the platoon again, just long enough to take a good look to either side.

"When Mort gets to a thousand meters," he warned, "we'll shift to a skirmish line and move to the left. First, second, and fourth squads will move into line. Third will trail behind to cover our tails and pick up casualties. Mark where we make the turn. We've got to get back in over the same trail. We don't, and we could walk into friendly fire. Or mines."

He took another long look at his mapboard. The red blips representing the enemy unit they were supposed to attack hadn't moved, but that didn't mean much. It was an infantry unit. They might easily have moved just about anywhere. Until they were spotted again, the mapping system couldn't update their position.

Out so far beyond the perimeter, the night was almost silent. The sounds of fighting were muted, all at a considerable distance. It was even possible, on occasion, to hear some of the normal night sounds of this wilderness, small animals moving in the underbrush, birds in the trees. Joe listened for the patterns. If he could mark those, he would be quicker to hear the exceptions, the altered patterns that might indicate trouble.

Mort reported when he reached the one-kilometer limit. Joe gave the platoon two minutes for a quick drink while they realigned themselves. He moved forward and to his right, between second and first squads, closer to second. He was right up on the skirmish line when the platoon started moving again.

The first hundred meters on the new course went as easily as the kilometer out from the lines. They did seem to be moving closer to the sounds of war again. Somewhere, ahead and farther out, a couple of artillery rounds exploded. Joe stopped the platoon while he tried to gauge the distance. At least a kilometer. Havocs throwing shells at something, probably an enemy tank. That brought a new tightness to his throat.

"Keep the Vrerchs handy," he whispered over the platoon circuit. "There might be more than infantry ahead."

A few seconds later, he said, "Slow it down. We should be almost in range. Watch for Heggie trip wires and bugs. First man to spot anything, sing out. We go to ground then and give them something to remember us by."

The squad leaders already had their orders: hand grenades and RPGs, Vrerchs if there were anything to use them on. The rest of the platoon would lay down covering fire with wire, whether or not they were close enough for the wire to do any good.

It was Frank Symes, fourth squad leader, who made the call. "About ninety meters straight ahead of me. Three men, too close together."

The men of 2nd platoon went down, carefully, making certain that there were no nasty surprises. Ninety meters. That was almost close enough for wire to be fully effective. Joe only hesitated for a second.

"Let's see how close we can get without being spotted. Another ten meters, at least."
I hope,
he thought. At eighty meters, wire would penetrate net armor with some reliability.

Flat on his stomach, Joe edged forward, his zipper across his forearms. Scuttling along like this was one of the first things a recruit learned in basic training. Besides being a skill he might need, it worked a lot of muscle groups.

The platoon didn't make the ten meters. Joe had moved no more than three meters himself before wire started coming toward them from the Schlinal positions—first from just a single rifle, then from too many to count. Second platoon stopped moving forward without command.

"Hit 'em," Joe ordered. He brought his Armanoc into firing position and started squeezing off two-second bursts, working back and forth across a 30-degree zone. Leaves and twigs were shredded by wire heading both ways, quickly clearing the zone of underbrush and low-hanging leaves between the two forces.

Rocket-propelled grenades went out. Each squad had one man equipped with an RPG launcher. One of the men with a Vrerch launcher let loose one missile as well. He hadn't seen any target really worth a Vrerch, but the ground blast did put a hole in the Heggie line and slowed down their fire for several seconds.

Joe was inserting a new spool of wire in his rifle when the Vrerch went off. "Damn it, don't waste those on dirt," he warned. He lifted his head just enough to see down his rifle's sights. This time, he let off the entire spool of wire in one long burst, working to one side of where the rocket had exploded.

Two minutes.
Joe put another spool of wire in.
This one and one more,
he decided. When he put the next spool in after that, it would be time to disengage. There was time for him to toss one grenade of his own. The range was extreme. There was little chance that anyone could lob a one-kilo hand grenade eighty meters from a prone position, but it didn't need to go all of the way. If it went fifty meters, it might do some damage, and if it went sixty, it would put the nearest Heggies in the kill zone.

Then it was back to the rifle.

Joe heard someone grunt heavily. Glancing to the left, he saw one of the men in second squad flop over onto his side, hit by wire. There were a couple of short calls from medics. There were other casualties as well. Joe kept firing until he reached the wire total he had decided would use up the two minutes.

"Pack 'em up," Joe said. "Third squad, get ready to cover us as we pull back past you. Maybe it's time to use a couple more Vrerchs."