Chapter 23: Marching Forward

Landing Zone Bravo

Jutfield Gap Approaches, Eden, Mars

Friday, March 20, 2150

Strapped in their APCs, riding down in the combat lander, Harlan Jones and his platoon were in total darkness except for the lighting in their armored personnel carriers. If something were to happen to the lander, they would never have a chance to escape. Only the fact that the lander was heavily armored and large enough to absorb multiple hits kept them safe. Nothing seemed odd, however, on the three-hour trip. The platoon had experienced combat drops in training, and the lander bucked and jinked in the thin atmosphere normally. The clock on his helmet display ticked down until an orange light came on, at which point a loud rumble began shaking the lander and everybody was pushed down in their seats as the retrorockets lit off. The bucking of the lander increased as the pilot lined up on the landing zone for touchdown.

Ten minutes and thirty-two seconds later there was a crashing thud as the lander touched down on Martian soil and the massive shock absorbers on the landing gear contracted. The rumble and shaking ended and Captain Sorenson s voice came over the radio. “Heads up, Bravo Company. We’re down and will be heading out in a few minutes. Just remember your training and I’ll see you all in Eden. I’ll be the guy buying the beer.”

Harlan looked around the APC and saw smiling faces behind the biosuit helmets. Sorenson was a good company commander, liked by the men but more importantly, respected by them. Harlan had met a lot of captains over the years, and he could tell the good ones from the bad ones; Sorenson was a good one. He just hoped he’d be as good when and if he became a captain. Harlan switched to a platoon frequency and said, “You heard the boss. Let’s make sure we do our jobs and stay safe. Obey your squad leaders and sergeants and we’ll be good. Squad leaders, check your squads and check in.” He switched to the squad leader circuit and waited for their responses. Within twenty seconds all four of the squad sergeants checked in.

Second Platoon was a standard armored infantry platoon, consisting of three infantry squads, each of nine Marines armed with a mix of M-24s and SAWs, and a squad leader sergeant. That was thirty Marines in three APCs. The fourth APC was the command APC, with Harlan, his platoon sergeant, and an eight-man heavy weapons squad with a pair of mortars and their crews and security element. That made for a standard forty-man platoon. The company consisted of three platoons and a heavy weapons platoon, with more mortars and heavier crew-served weapons. The battalion had three companies and another company of heavy weapons, engineers, and antitank lasers, over one hundred APCs and lasers. The regiment had three infantry battalions plus some artillery, plus a battalion of tanks, each of which had four companies with four platoons of four tanks each, for over sixty tanks; the tanks were distributed among the infantry battalions one company per battalion, with the fourth company being kept by the regiment.

In a perfect regiment, which didn’t exist outside of the textbooks, the infantry and auxiliaries had perhaps two hundred APCs, mostly infantry, but also with a healthy chunk of engineers, SALs, mortars, repair vehicles, fuel tankers, and command tracks. That worked out to about twenty-two hundred Marines. The tanks added another couple hundred. What with the odd collection of subunits always being tacked on, a regiment totaled about twenty-five hundred Marines.

Sorenson came on the command line, only allowing his platoon leaders to hear. “I just heard we’re going to be unloading in fifteen minutes, so stay on lander power.”

Harlan said, “That’s running late, isn’t it Captain? We were supposed to be unloading as soon as Alpha Company rolled out.”

“Alpha Company is running behind. No explanation given. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Harlan wondered what the delay was about, especially when it became twenty minutes, and then twenty-five. Standard doctrine for landing in a hot LZ was for dismounted troops to descend followed by their unloaded APCs and set a security perimeter, followed by tanks and SAL surface-to-air laser vehicles. This created a safety zone for the rest of the Marines and vehicles to unload and move into position. If enemy positions were nearby, heavy artillery and hovers would deploy to suppress fire and initiate combat.

The procedure was different when the landing zone was safe. The first landing had been uncontested, so the debarkation plan was for the Marines to stay in their APCs and ride down the ramps to an assembly point. From there they would form up into their platoons, companies, and regiments and move out. With practice, an orbital combat lander could be unloaded in one hour, but that was in perfect conditions and not under fire. More typical was two to three hours.

It was closer to an hour before Second Platoon got the word to unhook from the lander and prepare to move out. The platoon sergeant detailed a couple of Marines on the APC to get out and unhook the umbilicals and release the chains keeping the carrier from shifting during the drop. They got back inside, and the driver started up the engine. A thin light came in the front windshield and Harlan looked out as the APC in front of them began moving and unblocked the view. Harlan got his first look at the Martian landscape. It was a mix of reds and looked rough and dusty.

The driver looked over his shoulder at Harlan. “We got the word to move out, Lieutenant.”

“They say what the delay was?”

The driver didn’t look happy. “One of the first APCs lost control going down the ramp and went over the side. The driver couldn’t handle the low-g. He overcorrected and...”

“And?”

“They went over and cracked up when they hit. Lost half the squad, sir.”

Harlan couldn’t believe it. They hadn’t even gotten out of the lander and were taking losses. He shook his head and said, “Just make sure you drive slow and careful.”

“Yeah.” The driver engaged the drive and they jolted forward.

Harlan braced himself and switched to the platoon frequency, telling everybody to brace and for the drivers to stay alert. He’d be happy once they were on the ground. He got more of a view as they approached the ramp. He thought they would tip over as well, but their driver kept them going straight and the APC slowly rumbled down the ramp. Once they were on the soil, he turned to the right, heading towards an assembly point, following the directions of a soldier waving lighted flags.

Harlan looked around and then switched his visor to the APC’s external viewers. He looked backwards and saw the wreckage of an APC lying next to the lander, with several soldiers moving around it. He continued looking around the area and saw several other landers nearby. Switching to telescopic view he saw at least two other accidents, one of which had damaged that lander’s ramp. Harlan’s brother had told him that walking down the ramps was dangerous; it seemed that driving down was dangerous, too. Then he looked around as they drove to the assembly point. There were some solitary APCs and tanks in the area, and most of them had burn marks showing they had been destroyed by antitank lasers.

Harlan switched to the driver’s frequency. “A lot of blown tanks and APCs out there.”

The driver nodded and replied, “I noticed. I was told they’re from the first invasion and we just happened to land where there had been a fight.” He glanced at the lieutenant and saw him nodding and turned back towards the front. “Only...”

“What?”

“The first war was four years ago. Wouldn’t anything left over from then have dust on it? Those APCs and tanks look new, like maybe from the first wave yesterday.”

“Don’t know. Just drive,” Harlan replied. Giving in to speculation wouldn’t help anyone. Harlan kept looking around and then saw a bright flash and a puff of smoke half a kilometer away. Two meters away from the flash a squad of Marines fell to the ground or flew away. Harlan immediately thought two things, that their safe LZ was anything but, and that now he knew what a mortar round on Mars looked like.

They continued to the assembly point. Normally, the troops would get a chance to leave their APCs and stretch their legs, but not this time. As soon as they were gathered, Captain Sorenson spoke on a command link. “It seems the LZ wasn’t as cold as advertised. We’re obviously under observation, probably by communist terrorists. At least that’s what I’m hearing from battalion. As soon as the lander is unloaded, we’ll be moving out. The first wave is either out looking for terrorists or have already started towards Eden. Once we move out, the landers will head back up for the next batch. Just keep your troops ready to go. Don’t take any chances. Nobody should go outside and move around. Don’t give the terrorists any targets.”

There was a chorus of ‘Yes, sir’ from the platoon leaders. Then Harlan opened a private line to Sorenson. “Skipper, can we talk for a minute?”

“What’s on your mind, Harlan?”

“Are you buying the line about Martian terrorists?”

Sorenson answered slowly. “The lieutenant colonel told me it was terrorists because regiment told him it was terrorists, so I am telling you it was terrorists. If you have any other ideas, it might be best to keep them to yourself, Harlan.”

“Understood, Captain, but my brother had a company during Martian Hammer. He never saw any terrorists, but he did see Martian Special Forces troops. Just thought I should mention it.”

“Like I said, Harlan, it probably won’t help your otherwise sterling career to let that sort of thing out. Or to let people know about your brother.”

“Yes, sir.” Harlan shut up and continued to look outside. Two kilometers away an APC fireballed in a laser blast. He hoped everybody got off the lander quickly so they could move out soon.

This might not be the walkover they had been promised.

Eden District MPG Headquarters

Eden Military District, Eden, Mars

Friday, March 20, 2150

“Status?” asked General Hans Worthall. Worthall was the commanding general of all the forces in the Eden district and reported to General Jackson back at MPG headquarters in New Pittsburgh. He was the guy responsible for kicking WestHem ass and keeping them from knocking on Eden’s door and asking to come in. He had just come into the command center from the dining facility where he had eaten a very nice breakfast of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and a small steak. Martian cuisine excellence extended to their mess halls; only the food paste needed for use with biosuits was bad.

“About the same as yesterday, sir,” said Colonel John Wills. Wills was in charge of military intelligence in the district, tasked with knowing enemy force locations. He threw a map onto a monitor and said, “The first wave yesterday gave us a good location and we were able to send Special Forces out by midafternoon. They ran the Marines ragged until nightfall and they had to withdraw. Still, we only had a couple hundred SpecOps people and they landed sixty thousand Marines. A big chunk set up a perimeter, not that it did them much good. The rest began moving out and headed for the Gap.”

“Yeah, we saw that, but that was yesterday. We know they can’t take us with only sixty-thousand Marines.”

Wills added some icons to the screen. “They brought another sixty thousand down this morning, same location, so that must be their landing zone. This time we sent our people out there at the crack of dawn, every Special Forces operator we have. They’ve been shooting and scooting since before the landers even touched down.”

Worthall nodded grimly. “Casualties? Ours, not theirs. I don’t care about theirs.”

“Almost nonexistent, but there have been a few. That close to their landing zone, they still have some GPS capability based on their landers. The first wave deployed some artillery and some hovers but haven’t really used them yet. With the landers in position, we can’t sortie the Mosquitoes against the landing zone. Those landers have too much AA capability. They’ve tried to use their hovers against us today, but we’ve been able to shoot them down. They pulled them back and are trying to hit us with their mobile 150mm howitzers,” Wills replied.

“We hitting anything out there?”

“Plenty, General, but it won’t be enough.” Worthall turned to Wills and Wills added, “We can get a hundred-to-one kill ratio, but it just won’t be enough. We’ve got two-hundred people shooting, and a hundred-to-one adds up to twenty thousand. We won’t really hurt them until we can slam them on the march and then in the Gap.”

“Yeah.”

Another soldier joined the discussion. It was Colonel Ellen Cramer, G4 for Eden, the head of logistics and supplies. “Any word on reinforcements or resupply, sir?” Cramer, like Worthall, Wills, and all the other senior staff, was a veteran of Martian Hammer.

The general gave her a wry smile. “I am told they are working on it.” He shrugged and said, “I am sure they are, but the fucking Earthlings really did a number on the railroads this time. Who’d have thought they could actually do something right?”

Wills replied, “You can’t rely on your enemy being stupid all the time, sir.”

“Go fuck yourself, John,” Worthall laughed. To Cramer, he said, “They’ve been flying Hummingbirds full of Special Forces troops in from everywhere, with Mosquitoes flying cover. They’re also flying Mosquitoes in, rigging temporary emergency hangars. By the time these guys hit the Gap, we’ll be able to hammer them at our leisure.” He turned to Colonel Willy Coldcock, who wore the distinctive death’s head insignia of the MPG Special Forces on his t-shirt. Coldcock was the senior SpecOps commander in Eden. “Willy, as soon as those SpecOps teams get here, get them on the line. Even more than I want them killing these assholes, I want to know what they are doing. I want to know when and where they are moving, what their order of battle is, how they are deploying and responding ... hell, I want to know when and where they are taking a dump!”

“Understood, General.”

The general turned back to his G2, Colonel Wills. “Anything new from these guys? I can’t believe they plan to stick their dicks back into the grinder like this all over again. Yeah, they isolated us, but it’s not that easy to shift around armored regiments anyway. So far this looks just like the last invasion, only bigger.”

“So far, nothing new. They did learn some from the first war. While they are trying to secure a perimeter, the bulk of their forces are heading out. Willy won’t have enough SpecOps troopers to both hammer the landing zone and watch them on the way here. They are moving a lot faster. They’ve learned from the last time.”