[GZG] Fiction - Fighting Through

G¹day Guys,

Next instalment. We're out of the city after this at least for a while
so
hopefully a tank battle or two to come.

Derek is also trying to get the new stories up on our google area soon
(for
any who are interested).

Cheers

Beth

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Fighting Through

There¹s not an awful lot of privacy on the frontline. Those in the
worst
situation are the roving patrols that cover the desert passes between
Osuga
Valles and Vinogradov. They sleep in their bedrolls in the sand and
their
latrines are bags or holes. In comparison the compound in Marin is a
palace.
It¹s actually an aging heavy salt refinery on the waterside of Marin,
but at
least its got defensible walls, a mess hall, real latrines, even a
shower
block. Mind you, the showers are not all that appealing since a heavy
rocket
attack took out the filtration-heater unit. Gelid saltwater showers
aren¹t
that much more attractive than being dirty most days.

Most of us hotbed the cots in the dorm. The transients pull up their
sleeping bags and flop on the bare cots, but the long-term inhabitants
keep
bedrolls stashed underneath, pulling there¹s out when its there turn to
kip.
In the centre of each bedroll you typically find a stash of personal
treasure ­ tri-vid of loved ones, a pressed four-leaf clover, favourite
book, clean socks.

I was semi-conscious listening to the murmur of morning, then WHOMP. We
were
all instantly awake, bodies rolling to the floor as the building shook.
WHOMP. I could feel plaster from the roof pattering on the back of my
head
and down my back. I slithered forward along the length of the cot until
I
reached my armour. Wiggling into it I scrambled up, pulling zips shut as
I
pushed up. I dragged on my boots and took off running for the door.
Pausing
momentarily, as the door slid open, I grabbed a face mask from Robin,
who
was pulling them from the rack and thrusting them at each passing body.
I
sealed mine as I swung out the door.

Outside was chaos. Automatic weapons fire could be heard outside the
walls,
but also coming down from high positions on opposing ridges and even
tall
buildings further toward the port road. Bullets kicked up dust and
cracked
plaster off the taller walls and around high windows. Larger munitions
whistled and boomed, showering all about with chunks of wall. Bodies
were
running this way and that, some to get to firing positions, others to
get
ammo, or to carry messages, or to secure equipment. Some were in full
kit,
many weren¹t. Armour, clothing and shoes more often made up of what was
to
hand. I ducked under an overhang as more plaster and rock wall rained
down,
dodged past a pair carrying out crates to the howitzers in the
courtyard,
skipped through a cobweb of scaffolding rather than bulldoze through a
team
clearing rifles and ploughed up stairs headed for the sangers on the
roof.

As I cleared the final vertical ladder, it was like finally clearing the
river Styx. What had been chaos below was a hail of murderous activity
up
here. Bullets were flying in all directions. The Kra¹Vak had launched
an
audacious dawn raid, encircling the compound before opening fire. Bent
double I zigzagged my way toward a spot along the eastern wall, where I
new
I could nestle in (with relative safety) and get good coverage with my
lens
without getting in anyone¹s way. I could feel what passed for stiff
morning
breezes on Mars tugging at my jacket, and their whistling added to the
mad
cacophony. My ears twitched as I heard a more sinister whine overlaid on
the
wind. Diving the last few steps I slid in tight against the wall,
tucking in
against the mortar strike that hit hard against the wall just over the
lip
from where I was sheltering. The wall shook, but held.

I rolled over, jamming may back into the defences and started to pan
around
for good shots. With a clatter two small AV12 VTOLs rose out of the
belly of
the compound, banking low over the roof and strafing the Kra¹Vak
positions
in the rooftops across the street. There was a pause in fire from that
side,
but it did nothing to relieve the encompassing fusillade.

The down draft from the Mantis¹ engines, was kicking up the fine
Martian
sand, adding to the assault. I dared to raise my head briefly over the
wall
to see if I could pick out any of the Kra¹Vak under fire from the
hovering
VTOLs. The front of the building opposite was crumbling, large chunks
crashing to the street below, ripped open by the steady BAP of the chain
guns. As more gaps opened in the masonry the visual enhancers in my
specs
picked out bodies popping up to fire and dropping again, muzzle flashes,
longer bursts from plasma rifles and arcing lines of tracer fire.

As the sun cleared the western peaks it stabbed in haphazard shafts
through
the dust creating crazy interference patterns on the armour of the
attacking
Kra¹Vak. Swirling opalescent greens and purples, flashing briefly
visible in
the red-orange mélange. Snapping frantically, trying to capture the
effect
with my monocle mounted camera, a curse started to form as a shadow
flowed
over me and across the scene occluding the effect. I turned my head left
and
up, the curse dying in my throat, as my eyes found ³Katie², the
compound¹s
sole remaining AM-9A2 gunship rising up above the maelstrom. With skill
I
could hardly comprehend, the three VTOL¹s somehow managed to tail in
together, covering the 360 degrees of the attack between them. They
couldn¹t
stay up there forever, but they were giving some small respite.

* * *

Under the steady the steady thrum of the VTOL engines and rattle of
small
arms I rose up so my nose was just below the line of the sand bags. My
spec¹s registered ghostly purple symbols moving house to house on an
approach road, the mesh-like make up of the little figures indicating
that
Mark¹s motes were the source of the intel. I was keen to spot the real
thing
however, my eyes straining to catch even the hint of movement beyond the
dust being kicked up by the on-going fire from our positions and the
Kra¹Vak
already in the closest buildings. I couldn¹t pick out any new bodies
however. Couldn¹t see any real movement at all.

A small blue icon, in the shape of a camera formed to the bottom left of
my
vision, blinking ominously. My camera was fast running out of memory. I
flicked a quick look at my watch. 06:13. It¹d only been 20 minutes. How
couldS. Then I realised that in the made rush to get off my cot I
hadn¹t
changed mem-chips. Keeping my eyes on the roads approaching the
compound, I
dipped my fingers in my leg pouch and came up empty. Frig. I reached up
to
switch to live upload. I¹d found that if I was judicious I could
piggyback
my footage on the automatic carrier waves the military issue spec¹s
used to
send position information back to the ops room.

Zzzt. The icon went solid red. Out of power? That¹s impossible. I
ducked my
head down, pulling my spec¹s off so I could detach the monocle for a
closer
look. Even squinting the grinding sand immediately whipped into my face,
getting in my eyes and making them water. Groping I rammed the spec¹s
back
on, blinking madly to flush my eyes. At that moment I heard the whistle
of
approaching rockets. I instinctively hunched in against the bottom of
the
wall, pulling my legs up and curling my arms over my head.

³Incoming!²

Baz¹s warning and the rockets arriving together. WHAM. But they hadn¹t
hit
the roof. I felt the heat of the exploding VTOL, even though I¹d
clamped my
eyes shut they still registered the flash of the explosion. I looked up
between my arms to see the shrieking AM-9A2 careening off to the left,
its
tail severed by a Mantis that had become a fireball. The Mantis spun off
to
the right, bouncing off the far wall, slicing up a sanger and the people
in
it as it toppled over the side. BOOM. The mushroom cloud of fire and
dust
rolled back up over the wall and across the roof. Shredded, dagger-edged
sections of the Mantis¹ fuselage and engines cartwheeling up and away,
or
slamming into the roof and embedding themselves in sandbags. One piece
came
bouncing end-of-end across the roof at me, ricocheting off an old mortar
crate about a metre from my legs and deflecting in an arc that took up
over
me and down into the street below. My heart was pounding.

Another explosion off to my left marked the end of the terminally
wounded
gunship, which had ploughed into an old bottling plant a block down from
the
compound, hopefully taking dozens of Kra¹Vak fighters with it. Only
Pippa¹s
Mantis remained on station and from its violent shuddering and rocking
that
was only down to Pippa¹s amazing skill at the stick. I could see holes
in
the side of Pippa¹s Mantis and wasn¹t surprised to hear moments later
that
she was being forced down too. We were on our own. A big push in the
southern front of the war meaning all other air support was already
soaked
up down there, over 600km away.

My attention focused on the explosions I started badly when I felt a
hand on
my shoulder. I turned to find Paulie kneeling beside me.

³Here. We need all hands on deck Jock. Hopefully you can fire this
thing as
well as you can that camera of yours.² Paulie handed me a rifle and a
bag of
magazines. ³Remember, that way.² He said with a grin, pointing off the
roof
in the general direction of the Kra¹Vak. Clapping me reassuring on the
shoulder he took off zigzagging back across the roof to the sanger on
the
north-eastern corner.

Looking around I figured my current position was as good as any. No
point
moving over to either of the closest sangers, they were both full. There
was
only a gapping gash in the sand bags where the northwestern sanger had
been;
a couple of posts and part of its top-cover hanging loose and
precariously
over the edge of the compound¹s roof. I settled myself more comfortably
into
the nook and hefted the rifle in my hands, fitting it against my
shoulder
and steadying myself against the bags. I wasn¹t new to rifles. I¹d
done the
basic familiarisation all embeds do - the policy of previous conflicts
that
the media would not be participating abandoned on the assumption the
Kra¹Vak
would hold no quarter on neutrality. I had also hunted a little with my
grandfather twenty years ago. I¹d never shot a humanoid before though
and I
was scared to death. Scared of how I¹d react, scared of getting hurt
and
worst of all scared of cocking the whole thing up.

Rising up I started firing at any movement I could see in the tears in
the
building across the street. BLAT, BLAT, BLAT. Something over there
spotted
me, as I was suddenly surrounded by bullets snapping into the sandbags
on
either side of me.  Hunching down I held my rifle over the top of the
wall,
firing blindly.

³Calm down son. Better to look what you¹re doing.² Iron George slid
in to my
left, immediately popping up and putting a series of short controlled
bursts
into the building across the way. We were quickly joined by Jeff Hayes
and
Lt Russ Wilcox, weapons at the ready.

I turned back to the fight.

* * *

It felt like we¹d been exchanging heavy fire four an age. I was eating
through my collection of magazines, but we seemed to be pushing them
back.
We¹d repelled at least four rushes across the street at our gates.

The sun was sitting fairly high in the sky now, throwing almost no
shadow.
Looking through my sights I saw a body threading its way through rubble
on
the third floor of the building directly across from me. I held my
breath
watching carefully trying to maximise my chance of a hit as the
silhouette
flitted in and out behind walls, uprights, doorframes. I was afraid I¹d
left
it too long when my target emerged from a room and moved down a hall
that
had been exposed by action earlier in the day. I squeezed the trigger in
a
short burst and what felt like a heart beat later the body spun, taking
the
hit in the torso, it stumbled, bounced off a wall and slid out of view.
I
could only hope it was dead. Filled with an odd mix of relief and
satisfaction, I scanned back along the building face looking for another
target.

I caught the time as I slid out yet another magazine. 11:33. We¹d been
at
this over four hours. I pulled my final magazine out of my bag, my
sweaty
fingers fumbling with the magazine. It turned out it wasn¹t a full
magazine
either, but it didn¹t look that bad. I jacked it in with the heel of my
palm, released the bolt and checked I hadn¹t knocked the selector to
anything but semi-automatic. As I was finishing my check I felt Hayes
rise
to fire again. Suddenly his head snapped back and he tumbled backward,
splaying turtle-like on his back on the ground. I heard a bullet wing
away,
ricocheting off across the roof. Shaking himself he rolled back up onto
his
toes and retook his position by the wall. Looking left and right he
asked if
we were all ok. I could see where the slug had ripped through the side
of
his helmet. Blood was running down below the hole, dripping off his ear.

³Jeff, you¹ve been hit.²

³Can¹t be, it doesn¹t even hurt that bad.² He said raising his
fingers to
his ear. ³Oh I see what you mean.² Sliding down behind the wall until
he was
almost supine, he slipped his helmet off and started wrapping a bandage
turban-like around his crown. His slick fingers struggled to seal the
end.

³Let me.² I put my rifle by my knee and bent over to help. Sliding my
fingers over the end of the bandage to complete the seal. Picking up his
helmet I noted both the jagged entry and exit fissures. How the hell had
the
slug not killed him? I handed the helmet back to him and he tried
pulling it
back on. The bandage was too bulky however and he discarded the helmet
before picking up his rifle again.

Taking my lead from him I too rejoined the fight. Unfortunately it
looked
like our luck had turned.

³They¹re massing for another surge.² Said the tense voice in my
earbud, I¹d
stopped trying to pick the voices, I needed to concentrate elsewhere. I
put
down a few short bursts, dropping at least one body.

A grenade bounced in over the top of the wall. Before any of us could
react,
BOOM. Russ took the worst of it, shrapnel peppering his back.

³Russ?²

³Flesh wounds Jock, the armour took the hit.² Russ hissed, obviously
in
pain, but continuing to fire. I could see a constellation of bleeding
cracks
splayed across his back.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw another grenade fly overhead and
clatter
in behind us. Iron George saw it too and was quicker of the mark,
rolling
over, up on to a knee and lobbying one back over the wall in one smooth
motion. His body jerked, and he half fell, half rolled a metre or so
back
across the rooftop. Hayes and Wilcox kept firing, but I turned my back
to
the wall and looked to Baxter.

³What¹s wrong!?² I yelled, trying to be heard above the constant
crack and
pop of the small arms fire all around us.

³I¹m hit. Leg, neck, arm!² he had a hand to his neck, which he pulled
away
covered with blood. Crawling caterpillar like, his wounded leg under him
and
his good leg in front he slid back over to our position.

³Let me look.² I said ducking down and pulling his rent trousers back
to
find jagged edges of protruding bone.

³Christ, your femur¹s snapped!² I said looking up into his face.
³Medic!
Medic!² I immediately called over my comms.

³Well first we should get rid of this² Baxter said pushing his fingers
into
his ragged forearm and pulling out a spent Kra¹Vak slug. ³Here, wrap
it up.²
He said forthrightly presenting his forearm to me. A little in awe and
shock
I pulled an absorptive bandage foam spray from the aid pouch on my leg.
I
reached out and held his hand, rolling his forearm left to right to
ensure a
good coverage. Then holding his chin I washed out the wound on his neck.
It
was actually just a small cut and that was easy to patch up.

³Thanks.²

Baxter pulled a stimpack from his own aid pouch and jabbed into his leg
above the break, sucking his teeth hard as it hit home. He sucked in a
few
deep breaths and then spun round to face over the wall again and began
firing.

If he could I could. I peered down my sights to see a small group
crouching
in the lee of a half torn wall. One was in the process of loading a
grenade
launcher, its breach a dull black hole. BLAT, BLAT, BLAT. Two fell.
BLAT,
BLAT, CLICK. How could I be out? The magazine hadn¹t look that empty. I
double-checked. Sure enough I had gone	³black². The magazine was
empty, as
were all my others. I caste about over my shoulder looking see if there
was
anything I could scavenge. Reg, the senior unit medic was running at
full
pace, bent double across the roof top, skating the final few metres on
his
side, legs bent under him.

³Boy you guys know how to make a mess!² He said, surveying the wounded
around me. With bullets flicking around us, Reg quickly assessed and
dressed
Baxter¹s leg wound, stopping the blood flow, for now. ³We should
really get
you out of here Sir.²

³No. That¹d just expose others to fire getting me off the roof. When
there¹s
a lull, or its dark.²

³Sir that could be hours yet. The bleedingS²

³It didn¹t hit anything too critical or I¹d be dead already. I¹m
staying
here, if we don¹t see those Krek¹s off we¹re all dead.² Reg did not
look
reassured.  ³I¹ve got four more stimpacks son. Get out of here.² Iron
George
growled. Nodding his head off in the direction of the body of the
compound
where there were undoubtedly other wounded. ³Oh and take Jock with you.
He¹s
out of ammo here, but he should be able to help you. He¹s a dab hand
with a
bandage.²

I felt like protesting. It felt like leaving would some how let them
down,
but I realised I wasn¹t being dismissed, but sent into a new role. I
closed
my mouth and nodded to Reg. ³When you¹re ready.²

As I rose to my toes, Baxter reached out and grabbed my elbow. I looked
down
at his vice like grip and up into his eyes, raising my eyebrows
questioningly.

³You did good kid. Now get.²

My heart rose about ten notches as I pelted off after Reg.

* * *

Regrouping down in the hospital, Reg laid out my new role for me. ³What
level of training have you had?²

³I did the embed¹s course obviously and I¹m certified St John¹s, but
that¹s
it.²

³Right. This is a full medkit. Short of surgery you can cover it with
this.
However, you don¹t touch anything in this red section unless a real
medic
tells you right? Pain killer meds, prawn jabs, patches, stimpacks, foam,
plastifast, tourniquets, BFs (blood factors), telescopic splints,
scalpels
and tweezers². He said slapping his hand on different bundles in the
roll as
he went.  Next he handed me three tablet sized containers and a small
palm
scanner. ³Those make a grav-floater. Anyone who won¹t make it up there
you
stick this under them, preferably shoulders, buttocks and boots, but
depending on what they have left its your call. Hit this, this and this
to
activate it. Make sure your feet are out from under it when you do. Then
push them like a cart back here. Don¹t worry about coming down off
steep
drops, it will let them down ok, just try not to hit walls too often,
they
get pernickety. And that is a scanner, should pick up their subdermal
tags.
If it doesn¹t run it over their specs and it should bring up which BF
to use
and any meds to avoid, it¹ll come up in orange down on the lower left
of the
right lens. If that fails most of them still have their blood group
written
on their various limbs. Find one and check it. All straight?²

³Yes.² Nothing in the kit looked too different to what I¹d seen in
the
first-aid courses I done.

³Right. I¹ve switched your comms unit to also pick up the med chatter.
Listen for calls and relays there. If you see anything straight to hand
then
obviously go do it, but the dispatcher will also be calling locations
you¹re
needed. Ok?²

³Yep. All good.²

Seconds later, ³Jock, casualty north-eastern corner, room 4-57.² A
small map
appeared in the corner of my vision with a pale orange route marker and
a
lightly flashing red objective.

³Confirmed.² I answered back, loading my kit into a small backpack.
Nodding
at Reg, who smiled reassuring, I took off.

Moving through the compound the chaos of the morning hadn¹t slackened.
There
were still bodies and bullets flying in all directions. When I reached
4-57
I found 3 knots of bodies. One spotting for artillery and two spread
across
firing positions improvised from windows and fresh blown holes in the
walls.
Quickly scanning the room I found my first patient, Private Louise
Plumdale
curled in a corner, hissing in pain through clenched teeth. Checking her
over I found a bullet had blown through both legs. I jabbed her with a
painkiller and then set to wrapping bandages tightly around her wounds.

³Am I gonna be ok?²

³Yep Lou. I think we might need to take you down to the hospital, but
you¹ll
be fine.²

Reaching out she gripped my forearm. ³You sure? Megan turns 6 next
week. I
need to be around for herS²

³It¹s going to be fine.² I said, gently but firmly moving her hand so
I
could seal up the last bandage.

I started to lay out the stretcher pads. Looking up I realised that one
of
the soldiers taking a brief rest, leaning against the wall watching me,
was
Al.

³G¹Day, Al² I offered as I scuttled crab-like across the floor to
straighten
the middle of the pads.

Al nodded wearily, managing a half smile. BOOM. The wall blew in and Al
catapulted into me. The room filled with noise and dust and my ears were
ringing. Stunned and winded it took me a few seconds to collect myself
and
push the moaning man off me. Patting myself down I seemed ok. The harsh
flood of light form outside was making the haze glow eerily and dust was
settling rapidly on everything. Someone was shrieking, Al was moaning,
his
right leg torn off, his left gone just below the knee, blood spreading
rapidly across his groin, his hand mangled and his face a bloody pulp.
The
dust turning the blood into a lumpy mud and I could smell burnt flesh.

As I clamped my hands down hard on Al¹s leg and started pulling out
BF¹s,
clotting factors and anything else I can think of I called out to see if
there were other wounded. Seems everyone had scrapes and cuts and
bruises,
one had a deep cut along his brow and another was missing half his hand
and
had burns up his arm. Al is by far the most serious. He would need to
move
him first.

³Med-C this is Jock. We¹ve taken a direct hit in 4-57. Original
objective is
secure, but I have a triple with serious head wounds. Bringing him in
first.
Also have one walker, burns to his arm and missing 3 digits. Over.²

³Acknowledged Jock.² Came back the curt reply. I guessed this was
nothing
new for today.

Sliding the pads under Al¹s shoulders, lower back and remaining leg I
activated the stretcher and it gently lifted off the ground. Creating a
quiet but steady hum on the very edge of my badly abused hearing.

Before pushing off I stepped over to my original patient, checking she
was
as comfortable as she could be. ³You're gonna be ok Lou. Right? I¹ll
make
sure someone comes up to get you ok? You¹re gonna be alright.²

³Its alright Jock. Get Al some help, I can wait.²

Squeezing her hand. I flashed her a last smile and returned to Al. I
slid my
hand into the guide and was in the process of entering in the brake
release
when Al reached out and gripped my arm.

³Am I ok?² he asked.

³You¹re hurt pretty bad Al, but I¹m getting you to help now.²

³No am I OK?² he said through gritted teeth, flicking his eyes down
toward
his groin.

³Oh.²

Leaning over I gingerly pulled back his torn trousers. Of all the things
I
didn¹t think I¹d be doing today.

³Yeah looks like it¹s all there.²

³Thankss² he slurred, lying his head back down on the stretcher. I
flicked
off the brake and pushed off, directing the other wounded soldier to go
ahead of me out and down to the hospital below.

* * *

As the day flowed on I was incessantly on the move. Out to injured.
Patch
them up. Argue with the most heavily wounded to convince them that they
needed to at least get some attention from someone more qualified than
me.
Find them a bed in an ever shrinking amount of space down at the
hospital.
We¹d run out of floater pads and their power sources hours ago and I¹d
joined up with a young mechanic Sandy Morison as a stretcher team.

³Take him into the old staff room.² Dr Marshall directed us as we
brought in
CSM Pete Lovell. ³We¹ve set up a small command room in there for the
Lt Col,
they can keep each other occupied.² As we shuffled through the door we
saw
Iron George lying on a coffee table giving orders to someone on the
other
end of a vid-link. His leg was in a splint, portable command pad propped
on
his chest. I¹d heard he¹d finally run out of stimpacks and succumbed
to the
realities of his wounds about 45 minutes ago, I¹d expected to find him
in
poorer shape. Pete Lovell was a lot less healthy. He¹d taken heavy
machine
gun fire up his left side, maiming his leg and puncturing a lung so that
he
whistled every time he breathed. It was a sad indication of our
situation
that he was not a top priority concern.

Sandy led us over to a bench diagonally across the room from where Iron
George lay, where we set Pete down. As we gently set the stretcher down
there was a deep throated chuckle from the Lt Col. ³That is good news,
I¹ll
let the troops know, it should raise their spirits.²

I caste a glance at Sandy, who just waggled his eyebrows and pulled a
³yeah
wish I knew too² face before turning back to Pete to make sure he was
as
comfortable as possible. I wove my way round the stacked furniture over
to
Baxter.

³All ok Sir? Pain ok?²

³Doin¹ fine Jock. You look beat though, here take this, keep your
energy
up.² He said slapping a nuti-bar down in my hand.

³You sure?² I asked offering the bar back. I was ravenous, but he was
hurt
and heaven only knew when we¹d get a break for a decent feed.

³I¹m sure. I¹ve got a scoop for you media hound. The cavalry is on
its way.
Mixed NAC-NSL relief force is coming in by GEV across from Istia.
They¹ve
past San Juan already.² He said with a grin. I knew we weren¹t in the
clear
yet, but I felt lighter, springier.

My relief must have shown on my face as he said ³I thought you¹d like
that.
Now get goin¹, I¹m sure you¹ve got plenty to be doin¹ ².

I split the bar with Sandy as we moved back down the corridor. The news
about the relief came over the earbuds just as I was about to explain to
Sandy. Some scoop, but I didn¹t care. There was cheering and whooping
and
everyone seemed to stand a little straighter. Time for celebration was
short
lived though as we were rapidly directed to ³Just have a look about².
Sandy
and I knew no one had checked the mortar group of late so agreed to
check in
on the FST.

Coming out of the hospital we paused to let a fire team pelt past, off
to
reinforce the latest hole. We turned left and trotted down the alley
between
the two main central buildings in the block. Coming out the other end we
crossed the vehicle lot, a unit of wombats sat there idle and the lone
Mantis off in the corner. Sandy looked at it forlornly as we jogged
past.

³We tried, but we just don¹t have the kit here to fix her. She¹s too
badly
cut up. So many holes it¹s a wonder she didn¹t blow too.² He said,
his brow
crinkled.

³And Pippa?²

³Oh she¹s fine. Mad as a cut snake, but physically ok. I think she¹s
off
with the heavy gun group in the southeast corner dealing out some
serious
revenge.² That I could imagine.

As we rounded a scout sled we found three soldiers - Bruce Randall,
Corporal
Gary Lewis and Sergeant Simon Marsh - from fire support trying to
manhandle
boxes of mortar shells up to their firing position.

³Can we lend a hand?²

³Yep. We¹ll send these five up first. They¹re gliders are ok, so one
each.
Then we can come back for that one, it¹s going to need people power.²
Simon
indicated a dented crate off to the side, sitting in the dust. Its
glider
pad was dark.

We each grabbed the handle of one of the active crates and guided them
up
the gantry. Reaching an arch Simon directed us into a small storeroom,
where
they were lodging the crates until needed. We then trudged back down to
the
broken crate.

³All right. Everyone got a grip?² Simon asked. As we each nodded he
said
³Up.² Grunting with effort, jarring ourselves on corners and railings
we
wrestled the crate to the roof and into the temporary store. Breathing
hard
I felt flushed and could feel sweat trickling down my back. I followed
the
group out onto their platform and went from hot to clammy to chilly in
seconds. I¹d never been so cold as on Mars. As the FST got back to work
I
wandered amongst them handing out nutri-bars and water bottles from my
backpack.

Jess McDougall was sitting cross-legged with binoculars up to her eyes
looking out from a covered position built into a tall wall of sandbags.
She
was reading off coordinates of potential fire positions to Mel Brown who
was
sitting beside her marking them with a touch of her finger on a 3d
projection of the surrounding area. One at a time the symbols would
expand
and brighten as Gary and Bruce brought a fire mission down on that
position.
The whoosh of the mortars and the clatter of their preparation setting
up a
steady staccato beat.

As I got to the two girls Mel looked up briefly, accepting the food and
water for both her and Jess. She quickly stowed it in beside the wall.
Jess
didn¹t break concentration for a second.

Looking at the image dancing before Mel. I realised that the thick
scatter
of purple markers were all OEdanger close¹ to us. I knew we¹d been in
trouble
today, but this brought it home; particularly to the accompaniment of
the
whoosh and roar of another mortar launch. They had been at this for
hours
and while I could see they were wearing red noise-cancelling air-plugs I
knew from bitter experience that the little plugs weren¹t all they were
cracked up to be.

³While we don¹t mind the help Jock, to what do we owe the pleasure?²
asked
Simon loudly, trying to be heard over the mortar and his own hearing
protection.

³Just checking you¹re all in one piece. A few people have been a
little
hesitant to call in today.²

³I could murder a steak, but we¹re all ok.² Simon replied. Looking
around I
could see a few cuts and some grazes, but nothing too serious.

³Ok then, we¹ll be going.² I gave him a thumbs up, to help get my
message
across the noise. Moving back toward Sandy and the way down.

³INCOMING!² Jess screamed, diving to the ground just as the sand bags
in
front of her exploded back across their position. Bodies were blown or
dived
in every direction. As they began to stir, pushing debris away it looked
miraculously as if no one had been hit too bad. All except for Gary, who
had
been walking directly behind Jess when she¹d called out and hadn¹t had
time
to dodge. He had fist-sized wounds to his arms, chest, legs and buttocks
where shrapnel had sliced through him. I raced to his side and dragged
him
out of view of the gapping hole in the wall. Pulling open my medpack I
pushed home a vial of painkillers and started trying to stem the
bleeding.
Putting tourniquet¹s around his limbs and stuffing bandages into his
chest.

³Man down.² I called into my comms. ³Multiple shrapnel injuries.
He¹s bad.²

³Acknowled---. We¹re shor- o- space, but bri-g him -n.² The voice
flicked in
and out and my ear bud crackled. It must have been nicked in the last
exchange. Another piece of equipment to replace at the end of all this.

Off to my side Sandy had grabbed a grenade launcher and was firing
rounds
down on any Kra¹Vak he could see through the new hole.  I could hear
the
explosions as he peppered them. The Kra¹vak weren¹t slow to return
fire
though and small arms was now ripping up the position, coming in through
the
gap in our defences.

Mel and Bruce stayed with the tubes and started dropping shots madly on
the
closest known Kra¹Vak positions, even as bullets danced about their
feet and
flicked off struts and the boxes around them. Simon had grabbed a rifle
and
with Sandy was trying to cover the platform.

I¹d stabilised Gary as best I could, but there was no easy way of
getting
him out of there and every time I tried to move him across to the
gantry,
lines of Kra¹Vak slugs would rip up a line of plaster, sending me
skittering
back behind cover. Dragging the stretcher wasn¹t going to work so I
hefted
Gary up across my soldiers. Turning I lined myself up with the arch
across
the other side of the platform. Big breath and go. I sprinted across the
opening, feeling slugs flick plaster into my legs as I went. Adrenaline
kicking in I kept on going straight down the gantry and across the
vehicle
lot.

³Woo there Jock.² Reg said as he met me coming the other way. He
helped me
get Gary to the ground. We could hear the intense fight above us and I
wanted to get back.

³Go. I can take it from here.² Reg said, waving me off.

I dashed back up the stairs. Diverting into the store I picked up a
machine
gun I¹d seen there earlier, curling one arm around it, draping a belt
of
ammunition for it over my shoulder, I grabbed a rifle with the other and
went back out on to the platform. Dashing back along my path, slugs
again
ripped by my feet, showering me with plaster and masonry chips. Through
all
this Mel and Gary kept firing the mortar. THWOMP. THWOMP.

The Kra¹Vak were firing heavy slugs and RPGs at us. The floor and walls
rocked with explosions, but none proved as deadly as that first one that
had
caught Gary. For the second time that day I knelt in behind sand bags
and
started firing on the enemy. The Kra¹Vak moved around, probing form an
angle
to take us out, but Simon was faster, moving us to counter them every
time.
Simon had called in our predicament. We needed help badly, but there
would
be no relief as it was obvious to us all that this latest surge was
coming
from all directions. That relief force better get here soon.

* * *

An hour crawled past, then two and then three. We were losing the light
fast
and our ammunition stores were heavily depleted. Mel and Gary had long
since
emptied the last of the crates. They¹d fired grenades until we ran out
of
those too and both now had rifles. Gary was firing an illume round every
15th shot, to try and help us and blind the Kra¹Vak, who seemed to
welcome
the dark. Simon was firing the machine gun in a constant BRRT, BRRRRT.

³Stoppage." he called, handing down the weapon for me to clear. Turns
out
I¹m amazingly good at fixing jams. I passed up a second gun I¹d found
in the
stores. We¹d been playing pass the parcel with the two guns for the
last 45
minutes. They were getting through about 180 rounds before they¹d stop
and
we¹d have to swap again. The guns were jamming as they¹d burnt off all
their
lubricant. Any that was left was clogged with the fine Martian grit that
filled the air. Sandy had been the one to come up with the idea of using
cooking oil to grease them up and I¹d liberated a half empty drum from
the
mess hall.

My rifle had been blown apart during the first hour, the slug and part
of
the firing mechanism going straight through my hand. I¹d wrapped it up
as
tightly as I could. Everyone had some wound or other now, nothing to do
but
hold on. The relief force was within 2 clicks now, but under heavy fire.
We
could actually hear them crawling toward us. It could be a long night.

³We running low again Jock.² Simon called.

I got to my feet, crouching, rocking on the balls like a sprinter.
Mentally
counting 1-2-3-go. I raced across the opening, arms waving wildly as
Kra¹Vak
tracers followed me across. Into the store. Last crate of belts. Three
belts
over each shoulder and four in my arms. Back to the arch. 1-2-3-go.

Half way back and it felt like my head had been hit by a wall, or at the
very least a Clydesdale. It whipped around and my feet went out from
under
me. My mouth was full of blood and teeth. Gathering myself and as many
of
the belts as possible I pushed up, bent over, I half stumbled, half
slid,
back to Simon. Arms out ahead of me. I collapsed down beside him and put
my
hands to my face. The filter was shattered and there was blood
everywhere.
Sandy was immediately beside me. I tried to ask him what it looked like,
but
I couldn¹t get any sound out.

The piezo generator in my mask was destroyed and I could tell from the
laboured action of what was left of my mask that the battery was
depleting
fast. My specs were cracked and sparking too, but through one sliver I
could
just make out Sandy pulling out his trauma kit. I went from scared to
terrified (he told me later he could see my jugular pulsing through the
gash
in my neck, if I¹d known that at the time I think I would¹ve passed
out).
Sandy eased my mask off my face. I needed to stay calm. It felt like I
was
drowning, but he couldn¹t treat me with the shattered mask on. He
poured
saline through my cheek and then sprayed a foam bandage up my neck and
across the side of my face. Then he gently eased a new mask over it and
activated the seal. The adrenaline was wearing off now and I was
starting to
shake.

We both flinched as a string of giant explosions roared through the air,
lighting up the sky to the north and making the building quake.
Something
major was to hand. Straining we tried to see what was going on when a
flight
of Valderik SA-36 fighters roared overhead. The cavalry had finally
arrived.

* * *

The battle had lasted for fourteen and a half hours. By the end of the
battle we were a hair away from being taken by the circling vulture-like
demons of exhausted logistics. Over 80000 rounds had been fired and 80
crates of mortars had been emptied. Nine out of ten of the occupants of
the
base in Marin had been wounded, three in ten seriously. This had been
the
stiffest fighting the OU had experienced in their three years on Mars.
They
had held though and had apparently seriously weakened the enemy forces
in
the process. In the week following the attack the NAC-NSL relief force
had
managed to push the Kra¹Vak out of Marin altogether. Except for a few
small
pockets, the human forces now held the majority of the ground on the
eastern
half of the peninsular north of Severns.

The Seige of Sol was still on going and the Kra¹Vak still held their
main
Martian production centres, but more of the outer system skirmishes were
going our way and the Kra¹Vak had lost the marginal grounds in the
north and
south of the Martian warzones. It really did look if things were turning
around. News was patchier from the Outworlds and not always positive,
little
has been heard from some of the captured worlds in more than five years.
Nevertheless hopes were rising with each new Kra¹Vak defeat.

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