[FH] Breaking News - Chronicle of Operation Colossus 5-of-6

Connestoga's Final Pass

When we rolled out of the repair camp on the 18th I didn't know that
within a week I'd be back in Nirgal talking over how we'd lost the
campaign. At the time I was more concerned with the details of where we
were headed, why the boys called the Krak SAMs (Scary Alien Mothers or
Monsters, Jose and Todd couldn't agree on that) and with looking over
snaps of Ben's new daughter.

We were sent back to the corridor adjoining Lasalle, to rejoin the fight
for the Arda-Lethbridge corridor. We joined our brigade in the
afternoon. Not long after Krak Kart fighters, and what may have even
been Kin class scoutships bombed and strafed a three kilometre wide
ribbon along much of the length of our front lines. The drop wasn't long
lived, maybe 10 minutes in total, but it had a sizeable impact. In our
immediate area alone three squadrons of MMRAVs and four squadrans of M44
LACVs were destroyed, the super high velocity KE rounds driving sections
of the dismembered chassis' underground.

Even after the aircraft had passed over the pounding did not cease, as
the Krak artillery opened up to continue the pressure. After about 45
minutes of this attention, an armoured spearhead, an alien corp lead by
superheavy grav tanks, advanced on our position west of the Zavidovka
mine, northeast of Pikalevo. At the same time another alien division
attacked Lethbridge directly, just as the rain began again. Yet another
Krak division retook the high ground amongst the Chelny Hills. The
thrusts in the low country, on our position and around Lethbridge proved
tough going and the Krak advance stalled. The alien units up in the
hills made an easier time of it and we got word that our units there had
been forced back a little after midnight.

At about 03:00 we got word that a corp of Krak medium armour had
launched an attack on units between us and the Chelny Hills, taking
possession of some of our observation posts. Their assault had met with
stiff resistance, but they ultimately overcame our troops by using
assault troops equipped with PIGs and flame-throwers to clear the
bunkers and outposts. At 04:30 we heard the telltale whistle of our
(well ours and the Swabian) artillery, the shells flying overhead to
bombard the Krak advance to our east. After ten days of action even my
ears could tell the pitch of the passage of our shells from the deeper
whine of the Krak solid slugs. Irshad's dawn briefing let us know that
our artillery, aided by the new spate of soaking rain, had slowed the
Krak advance to a crawl. 

Encouraged by the success of the night's bombardment another massive
artillery barrage of the Krak lines began at 07:10; fire coming from
over 700 guns, mortars and rocket launchers. That was soon followed by
an equally colossal air strike by the combined forces of the RNACAF,
Kreigsluftflotte and VVS. The volume of fighters passing over darkened
the sky, much the same way as the passing of great flocks of birds was
said to centuries ago on Earth. At first I couldn't understand why our
planes didn't stop over the Krak lines but pushed deeper, far over the
horizon. Then Irshad pointed out they were targeting any alien airbases
they could find back there - attempting to use a modern variant of the
"old German trick" of wiping out local air support within the opening
hours of a battle. The next few hours turned into what was probably the
largest air battle fought to date on any planet in the human sphere of
influence. The human side committed 3986 fighters. Drone counts of the
Krak's gave estimates for their side of around 3703 atmospheric and 202
space capable fighters. The human planes couldn't present much of a
challenge to any of the space capable Krak fighters, which retreated out
of the atmosphere whenever the threat against them became too great. It
is doubtful however, that any alien atmospheric fighter survived the
tussle unscathed. Every Krak airfield was shot into uselessness and
every fighter engaged. Our own losses were incredible, but the Krak
airforce was crippled. It would not be a serious threat again for weeks
if not months.

At 09:39 on the 19th we got clearance to begin an assault on the Krak
forces to our front. We pushed off the plain fairly easily. Within an
hour we'd fought our way up on to the first slopes. The lead units had
fairly stiff casualty rates, but the rest of us were still in decent
shape. The easy going didn't last for long however and we soon found
ourself almost unable to move. Within minutes of starting up on to the
slope a 'Hunter' MMRAV had lost its undercarriage and slumped down into
a cascade of explosions and a Paladin in the lead squadron had been
blown into the air and come cart-wheeling back down through the main
press of vehicles, disabling another 'Hunter' (shearing off its turret
when it bounced past) and crippling a 'Striker' before lodging fast
amongst a group of 'Hoplite' MICVs. The immediate call for ambulances
indicating the carnage that collision had wrought.

The advance had found itself trapped in a huge defensive minefield.
Engineering units were called to come up and clear them. Whether
triggered by the catastrophic destruction of the first minefield victims
or in response to the associated increase in our comms traffic, the Krak
artillery renewed the harassment of our lines as we sat stuck fast
amongst the mines. It took 20 minutes for a fifteen man contingent of
the 2nd Austrian Engineer Company to reach our lines and begin the
clearance, all the while under artillery fire. During the next six hours
the Swabian sappers cleared and taped paths through the minefield. The
task made all the more dangerous by its location on old mine tailings.
The ground was peppered with old machinery parts, discarded drill bits,
chunks of unprocessed ore and as a result detectors were useless, their
readings frenzied and completely uninformative. This meant that rats and
bees had to be used to mark mine trails and then the mines had to be
lifted out and made safe by hand; an extremely dangerous enterprise. It
was testimony to the expertise of the Austrian engineers that the
fifteen strong force cleared 4500 mines, opening a wide enough path for
our forces to push on. That is an astounding feat that works out at a
rate of a mine a minute by each sapper. My respect for these hardy and
talented souls soared as they waved us through; each with their own
layer of red mud. They looked like terracotta soldiers with wide, white
Cheshire grins. 

We were moving again, but the rate of progress still wasn't high. It
took us another thirteen hours to push a further 10km forward, the Kraks
launching rocket attacks from the northwest and opening up with large
K-guns that had been placed in bunkers to our northeast. Considering
that we were attacking without the element of surprise against a dug-in
and potentially numerically superior enemy, I guess any progress was a
marked achievement. I can assure it felt anything but at the time.

We spent most of the night trying to avoid being vaporised by the
house-sized guns, while we inched our way forward. Then at 02:35 on the
20th we were told to fall back. Irshad ordering Jose to head for some
old open cut mining gullies to the southwest. He urged Jose down the
length of the gully and ordered him to tuck in at the far end. It was
like hunkering turret down behind some berm, but it seemed like such a
disheartening reversal to be running away after how hard fought every
inch forward in those hills had been. We had been settled in our hole
for less than five minutes when a brilliant white light flashed across
the sky; then there was a deep thud to the northeast, like something
huge had toppled; then an enormous rumble vibrated us as it passed
through and rattled lose stones off the gully walls; finally we were
rocked by a gale of wind and pressure and pelted by stones and other
small debris. I can see why Irshad (and the commanders of all the tanks
that had lined the gully behind us) had headed for cover.
"What was..." I began, my voice shook with awe and my gut clenched
wondering if we had also started lobbing nukes.
"That was the RNS Connestoga." Irshad informed us.
"They flew a Corvette in and shot up the f'ing SAMs point blank?! You
gotta respect those balls!" Todd enthused.
"No" Irshad corrected.
"Could have fooled me, it sure looked like a ship passage. What kind of
orbital attack leaves a trail like that then?" Todd asked confused.
"Ramming" Irshad replied.
"RAMs they some kind of new RSN missile?" Todd asked.
"No Todd they rammed the bunkers." Irshad explained patiently.
"Huh?" Todd still looked confused.
Ben spun round slack jawed with recognition. "You don't mean..."
"I do."
"But why? Surely if they had to go orbital, just plain old fire would be
fine." Ben opined
"Nah, they were probably afraid that'd f' the atmosphere round here good
and proper, they still need it to be gp friendly" Jose put in.
"GP?" I now felt as lost as Todd
"Ground pounder" Ben supplied.
"Oh, thanks." My vocabulary grew by leaps and bounds around this lot.
Irshad put up his hand to stop any further theorising. "The situation
space-side is hotting up. Not boiling like down here, but a good deal
hotter than before we left Nirgal. Word is the Connestoga was crippled
while trying to disrupt those fighters that buzzed the lines day before
yesterday. Apparently she was too deep into Mars' gravity well to escape
without a tow, and its too hot up there for her to get one without
risking more ships. 'Old man' Stephenson has known for a while she might
be coming down I'd reckon, but didn't trouble us with the news until she
was just about here. Guess he figured we had enough to worry about down
here without watching the heavens too. Anyways that last comms dump,
backup on the hill, said the command crew of the Connestoga had decided
to make her end worth something and that we had better find deep cover
and fast. So here we are. And now we have to get out of this rat hole
and go kick some more SAM arses."
I was feeling speechless; Ben was shaking his head; Todd still looked
puzzled opening and closing his mouth with a quizzical look; but Jose
was all business and had us back up that hill in no time. We encountered
some resistance, but it was fairly light and we were soon in the area
that had held the bunkers with the big ship guns. The landscape was a
good deal different from what our holo's had projected last time. A huge
gouge marked the final path of the Connestoga; giant mounds of earth
piled high on either side; boulders the size of small buildings sitting
out in the open where there had been flat ground less than an hour
before. There were also great chunks of ship and bunker scattered about
like a gigantic, demonically dismantled children's toy. The hellish feel
to the landscape was only accentuated by the fact everything was
smoking. There were a number of smouldering grass fires, but the drizzle
that was still falling quite quickly sapped their strength. Each piece
of wreckage was topped by wisps of smoke and steam as the rain hit the
superheated scrap. Todd whistled. "My Dad checked I really wanted to
join up by recounting in great detail the worst he'd seen in the TSW,
but he never said there would be days like this."

We drew up on the other side of Connestoga's final resting place and got
in a few hours rest before we had to move again. With the heaviest
components of the support gone, the Krak had again been pushed down off
the Chelny Hills. With that area now securely back in human hands we
were being directed to the lowlands northwest of Lethbridge. 

As the sun crawled across the sky on the 20th we picked our way to the
Huon Plain. A few lighter tanks we had been travelling with were sent
out to scout the surrounds, but the bulk of us were told to pitch camp
and wait for the rest of our forces to arrive. Ben introduced me to the
wonders of kosher rations, while Todd taught Jose to line dance on the
Paladin's long nose. Irshad seemed consumed by report filing and writing
letters home. Just on dusk I poked my head out of the tank, looking for
a place to pee.
As I wound my way through the tank park I was amused to see small fires
out of sight behind most tanks. Around each tiny glow, standing to
minimise light leaks, were tankers of every size, sex, race and
religion. Yet they shared as much as they differed. They all had that
ruffled look of people who've lived in the same clothes for a fortnight;
people who desperately needed a shower; people who had seen things and
done things they'd never tell their families about. Human soldiers much
like any others through history, sharing a joke, swapping small
luxuries, making the best of the time they had. This wasn't the first
time I thought that you never really appreciated history until you lived
it. 

The battle of Huon Plain

When Todd shook me awake the next morning it was to tell me that our air
force and artillery had started bombing the Krak positions and we had to
form up. What followed easily displaced Kursk, Winchester and Bradley as
candidate for the largest and bloodiest tank engagement ever. 

The rains had finally ended, but in the end that did nothing to aid in
visibility, the action of over 7700 tanks creating blinding clouds of
smoke and dust. The day started clear enough. We were out in one of the
lead groups and moved cautiously out on to the plain, ardently trying to
avoid a repeat of the earlier minefield disaster. I think we all felt
exposed out on the flat ground and were keen to get back into some
cover. We didn't get the chance though. When we were about 5 kilometres
onto the plain a mass of Krak tanks topped the far rise and advanced
down on to the plain to face us. The long range of our HELs again came
to our aid and we managed to pick away at them on the approach. As they
pushed forward, we tried to fall back, or at least jockey around, so
that we could keep the distance between us open. They weren't going to
let us maintain the range though and we quickly ran out of manoeuvre
room. With no where left to go our commanders ordered us forward. Within
minutes we were at close range and feeling the full impact of such close
fighting. Not the least of which was again to do with the Krak's ability
to disable our comms. It was so bad this time the AI was having trouble
even drawing the immediate area. The smoke from destroyed tanks had
mixed with the plain's fine dust and defensive aerosols used to block
LOS to make an impenetrable screen around us, which was only exacerbated
by the Krak blocking feeds from drones and observers in clearer areas.
We were largely fighting blind and the lines became confused and
interpenetrated. I don't know whether the Krak were as lost as we were
or whether they purposefully mixed into our units, in the hope of
creating lethal levels of chaos and friendly fire, but that is how we
found ourselves. Thousands of tanks at point blank range, looking more
like an armour-plated wrestling match than the multi-kilometre
engagements modern tankers were accustomed to. At this range the Krak
MDCs and HKPs were tearing us apart. Our weapons were equally deadly
though; the exact form of main gun and armour irrelevant at such close
quarters. The entire battle had degenerated into a confused profusion of
bitter small-unit actions at close quarters. Not the way a tank battle
should be fought, according to prevailing military wisdom, at least; and
definitely not for the best part of a day. It wasn't until 21:00 that
the last shots were fired and the remaining units of the two sides
disengaged. 

I don't know how we survived. I put it down to Jose driving like a
maniac and the other three firing until their hands cramped. We got hit
at least seven times, but magically Jose always got the nose round just
in time. I still don't know how we escaped with only dented armour, a
cracked wheel, collapsed turret bearing and exhausted ammo stocks. The
main systems did short out about the midpoint of the afternoon, after we
took a particularly heavy hit to the nose, but with a slap from Irshad
the backup systems kicked in and kept us running. I was relieved to see
that while the backup lights were dimmer than those at full primary
power they weren't the dull red favoured in sci-fi and military dramas.
I think that would have been an uncomfortable reminder of where we may
well have ended up if the backups had failed. Assuming Hades really is
decorated in shades of crimson.

Easily the scariest moments of the day from my perspective was when a
'Killjoy' surprised us as we crept between the hulks of a squadron of
hover skirted Swabian 'Deimos'. It was like being surprised by some
great tarantula sitting in amongst her slaughtered prey. The monster MBT
was less than 100 metres from us. In the time we got two shots on it, it
had three on us. One of the shots went wide, but the other two hit us
square on, doing much of the damage I mentioned earlier. Meanwhile our
shots had blackened its armour, one sheet dangling precariously loose.
We had also destroyed the APSW mount, but this did nothing to deter the
monster who kept on straight at us. For what he accomplished next I
fully intend to hook Jose up with Grand Prix driving after this shooting
war is done. He managed to out drive the grav tank, wheeling around
wrecked chassis' and broken tank parts, all the while in reverse. In the
end Jose made good our escape by luring the hulking monstrosity into a
gap between two semi-demolished tanks, where it stuck fast. He received
cheers all round, and promises of beer. I for one could have kissed him
or donated my first born or provided him with any number of extravagant
gifts.

After this colossal clash both sides were exhausted and heavily
attrited. Given we did not see any renewed Krak advances we can guess
they were as low on resources and reserves as our side. We had fought to
a stalemate. Our commanders had us withdraw to the partly constructed
Margaritifer line at the base of the hills around the Huon Plain. The
few remaining Swabian reserves, currently protecting Pikalevo,
transferred their positions up to help cover the retreat and
construction of the fortifications. 

<Continued in Part Six>