Chapter 22B

The artillery barrage had been going on for ten minutes now, the 150mm shells dropping atop their hill, exploding and shaking everything. It did not match the ferocity of the barrage they'd endured during the first phase but all knew there would be no let-up this time.

"Tanks moving in!" said a voice over the net. "Battalion strength. Our tanks and the AT teams are engaging."

Jeff was huddled against the back of the trench, his head down low, the SAW curled up against his chest. He didn't get up to look at the tanks. He wasn't putting his head in one of the firing holes until he absolutely had to.

More explosions began to rock the hillside as the tanks opened up on the anti-tank positions above them, raking them with a terrifying volume of eighty-millimeter fire. It sounded like they were blowing the entire top of the hill off. He felt fear unlike anything he'd experienced to this point. Soon those guns would be shooting at his position, supporting the advance of the ground troops. He felt fear for Xenia as well. She was down in her tank with Valentine and Belinda Maxely facing twice as many tanks as they ever had before. She could be dead already, her beautiful body fried to a pulp by a WestHem tank laser. That was a thought he tried to push out of his mind but it refused to go.

"APCs moving in," said another voice. "A whole fucking shitload of them!"

"I got 'em," said Sergeant Walker, who was peering through one of the periscope cameras. "Too many to count. If they're fully loaded with dismounts we're looking at multi-battalion strength coming after our position."

"Fuck me," said Hicks, his eyes wide and terrified.

"Where the fuck are those reinforcements?" asked Drogan. "We only have two platoons on this hill. We can't hold off that many marines!"

"No, we can't," Walker said. "The LT says it's the same situation up and down the line. We're gonna be pulling back real quick."

"How quick?" Jeff wanted to know. "I vote for fuckin' now!"

"We need to bloody them up a bit first," Walker said. "AT teams and the tanks are engaging the APCs now. They've knocked out about ten of them."

"Any word on friendly tank losses?" Jeff asked.

"No," Walker said. "No word. Okay, everyone. This is it! APCs are stopping about two hundred meters short of the hill. Get in position and open fire as soon as they start to dismount. Remember, stick to your zones!"

Jeff stood up and put the barrel of the SAW through the firing hole. He looked out into a sea of muzzle flashes from tanks, smoke and explosions from return fire, and laser flashes from anti-tank fire. The APCs were in a broad line stretching from one side of the hill to another. Walker was right. There were too many of them to count.

An artillery shell landed just down the hill from him. The flash overwhelmed his visual mode. The concussion hammered into him hard enough to drive some of the air from his lungs. Several pieces of smoking shrapnel came flying into his firing hole, one of them pinging off the side of his helmet.

"Jesus," he mumbled, just as another one exploded a little further up.

Mortar shells, fired from behind them, began to drop in the midst of the APCs, their proximity fuses causing them to explode about ten meters up. And then the marines began to dismount, appearing from around the back of the APCs. The mortar rounds felled some; most began to move forward, toward the base of the hill.

Jeff put his targeting recticle on a concentration of them and opened fire, taking three of them down with one burst. He then shifted and fired at another group that had come out from one of the other APCs. The rest of the squad opened up as well, popping at them with their rifles. Many marines went down but within thirty seconds there were hundreds of them still up and they were moving in.

The APCs began to fire to cover them, sending sixty millimeter shells and twenty millimeter cannon fire at the infantry positions. Riggins, one of the newer members of Jeff's squad, was killed almost immediately as a twenty millimeter round went right through his head. Two of the shells exploded directly in front of Jeff's hole, sending more shrapnel into the trench. A piece of it ripped through the top of Jeff's shoulder but missed the skin beneath.

"Creek, displacing," he called, letting them know that the SAW would be out of action for a few seconds. He moved to the hole to his right and put it back out there. In the time this took the marines down below had advanced another fifty meters. They were moving in as fast as they could, not shooting back, not crawling, not stopping to help those that had fallen. He opened up on a group of them, raking down six of them but had to stop and pull back inside as a furious barrage of sixty millimeter and twenty millimeter fire began to slam into his position. Sandbags exploded and dust flew. Shrapnel sprayed everywhere. He bent down low and moved back to his original hole. This time he only got three marines before the APCs below started plastering him.

"They're at the base of the hill," Walker said, unleashing a three round burst from his own weapon. "They now have defilade from the mortar fire."

"They're not stopping to regroup, sarge," Drogan said. "They're moving up fast, all at once. Not using covering fire."

"They learned from the last time," Walker said. "Keep the fire on them as long as you can, but get ready to pull back. The AT teams have already disengaged."

The artillery continued to slam into the hill and the marines below continued to climb. Jeff moved from hole to hole, firing the SAW down at them, mowing down two or three at a time and then quickly displacing before the APCs could zero in on him. The other squad members continued to fire their own weapons, most using single shots at individual soldiers. Drogan had a grenade launcher on her M-24 and when they got into range she began to use it. Their shooting was true and the marines fell in considerable numbers but there were simply too many of them over too great an area. Their advance was relentless and terrifying.

When the artillery suddenly stopped, indicating that the marines were close enough that they might get hit with it, the order finally came down. "Okay, everyone," Walker said. "It's time to get the hell out of here. Withdraw to the rear as quickly as you can. Creek, you and I will keep some fire on those marines until everyone is headed down."

"Right, sarge," he said, moving in towards the center of the trench and putting his barrel through.

The rest of the squad grabbed all the ammunition, food packs, and waste packs they could carry and started working their way through the trench. Jeff and Walker put bursts of fire down on the advancing marines for about two minutes and then Walker decided that was enough time.

"Let's hit it, Creek," he said. "The sooner we get down and in the APC, the sooner your girlfriend down in the tank will be able to pull out too."

"Fuckin' aye," Jeff said, firing one last burst down and taking out two more marines. He pulled the SAW back inside and slung it over his back. He followed Walker down to the access trench and they began to work their way down to the bottom.

The APC's were waiting down there and they climbed inside. The doors shut and they began to rumble across the wastelands, heading for the Blue Line to the east. All up and down the line the same thing was occurring. The Jutfield Gap — Eden's most formidable chokepoint on the western approach, the chokepoint responsible for more than seventy percent of the enemy infantry and armor casualties in the first phase of the battle — had fallen to the marines in less than thirty minutes.

Captain Callahan sat halfway up Hill 778, his back against a large boulder, his M-24 resting on his lap. Twenty meters further up the hill was the opening of the trench the Martian infantry troops who had recently vacated this hill had operated from. One of his platoons was carefully approaching it, their weapons ready, peering inside to make sure the former occupants had really left.

"Remember," Callahan told newly promoted Lieutenant Skag, who was in charge of that particular platoon, "keep your men well clear of that trench. Those Martians love their booby traps."

"Yes, sir," Skag replied. "We're not going closer than five meters."

Callahan's company had been one of five that had gone after this particular hill, which had been held by a single company of MPG reinforced with an anti-tank platoon. The hill had fallen with an ease that was almost absurd in light of the heavy price they'd paid during phase one. The anti-tank fire as they'd approached had been very light, with only one or two weapons flashing. They'd lost more APCs to the Martian tanks than from the AT weapons — a stark reversal of the first time. Callahan had lost fourteen of his men on the advance, ten when their APC was hit by one of the tanks, two to the Martian mortar fire as they'd dismounted, the other two to small arms fire from within the trenches as they'd mounted the hill. The other companies involved in the attack were reporting similar casualty rates. Apparently the new plan of moving quickly in overwhelming numbers was having the desired effect.

"Callahan," said the voice of Captain Boothe on the command channel. "Why don't you stroll on up the hill for a minute. There's something up here I think you might want to see."

"On my way," Callahan said. He stood and began to climb, walking around the edge of the lower trench opening and onto the steeper slope of the hill. The going was a little tough but he relished the fact that he was doing it without being shot at. In about five minutes he made it up, finding Boothe standing near a collapsed heap of sandbags.

"I think we know why the AT fire was so sparse from this position," Boothe told him after they switched down to a short-range channel.

"Oh?" Callahan asked.

"Take a look," he said, pointing beyond the sandbags.

Callahan took a few steps closer and looked inside. A large portion of this trench had collapsed, its concrete barricades smashed open, its sandbags blown to pieces. There were more than a dozen dead Martians visible in the rubble, some with limbs blown off, some with heads blown off, most with their protective biosuits shredded by shrapnel. The remains of their AT weapons lay with most of them.

"The arty," Callahan said.

"Exactly," Boothe confirmed. "These trenches are well-designed and well-built but they can't stand up to a sustained artillery barrage with penetrating shells. I talked to Colonel West while you were climbing up here and he confirmed that all up and down the gap we're finding the same thing. We didn't get all of the AT trenches but we got a lot of them. That kept them from blasting us while we moved in and let the APCs and the tanks concentrate fire on the infantry trenches. Coupled with our greater numbers we were able to walk up these hills with minimal opposition."

"So that air strike we launched did some good after all?"

"It would seem so," Boothe said. "We didn't get all of their heavy guns. I saw some of those big-ass shells passing overhead as we moved in, but it was nothing like the first phase. If we can keep our artillery firing and supporting us we're gonna take that fucking city, Callahan."

"What about when their reinforcements are all in the fight?" Callahan asked. "We hit them here before they were able to get in on it. What about the Blue Line?"

"We're going after the Blue Line as soon as all of the hills are cleared," Boothe said. "That should be in less than an hour."

"Nice," Callahan said, looking at the dead Martians with relish. It was nice to see that they were capable of being killed after all. "I'm gonna head back down and tell my men what I've seen up here."

"You do that," Boothe said. "It's good for morale."

"You know it," Callahan said. His panic and anxiety were now gone. It seemed that maybe an end to this nightmare was now in sight.

The Blue Line

September 14, 2146

0332 hours

The trenches in the Blue Line had not been repaired after the first phase of the war. All of the efforts had instead gone into fixing the main Jutfield Gap positions on the theory that the gap was where they would inflict the most damage. As a result the position Jeff and the rest of his platoon were occupying was tattered and blasted, with many of the sandbags destroyed, much of the concrete already crumbled open, and large holes around most of the firing positions.

"If they bring that arty down on us we're fucked," Hicks said as they repaired what they could and set up their equipment.

"I heard we lost a lot of the AT guys," said Drogan. "Is that true, sarge?"

"It's true," he confirmed. "Casualties were heavy among the hilltop positions in the gap."

"How heavy?" asked Jeff.

"I don't have exact numbers," Walker told him, "but we're losing a lot to desertion now too. You all saw the desertion line out there, didn't you?"

They had. As they'd climbed up this hill to occupy this trench greater than a hundred soldiers had been awaiting evacuation by the support APCs. And that was just in this section.

"If we lose all the AT teams there won't be anyone to keep their numbers down when they move in," Drogan said.

"Can you fuckin' blame them?" Hicks asked.

"You're looking at it the wrong way," Walker said. "Most of the AT teams are staying."

"Huh?" asked Drogan.

"They got the shit kicked out of them in the last battle and took heavy losses. They're fighting in an army that allows you to leave without consequences at any time. And yet, despite all that, only a couple hundred are choosing to call it a war. Most of them are willing to climb back up those hills and give it another go. What does that tell you?"

"That they're a bunch of fucking idiots?" Hicks suggested.

"No," Walker said. "That they believe in what we're fighting for out here. That they're willing to put their fuckin' lives on the line for it."

"Exactly," Jeff said. "That's why I'm staying."

"Me too," said Drogan.

Hicks hesitated for a moment but finally added his "me too" too.

"Incoming!" a voice yelled over the net.

Jeff looked up long enough to see the streaks of incoming artillery shells heading in their direction. There were a lot of them. He dove down into the trench and shoved himself under the overhang, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Concussions began to slam into them a few seconds later, rocking the trench, sending more sandbags down, filling the air with dust. They hammered in every few seconds, some far away, most close. The barrage went on and on without letup.

"They're hitting up above!" Drogan said after a particularly fierce series of explosions. "They're going after the AT teams."

"And they got them," Walker reported, his voice sounding a little shocked. "Two direct hits on the upper trench. Heavy casualties are reported and the trench is out of action."

"Fuck," said Jeff, his fear becoming palpable now.

The tanks rolled in a few minutes later and started plastering the entire hillside with eighty-millimeter shells. The APCs followed soon after, disgorging hundreds of ground troops and adding their own sixty and twenty millimeters to the fray. Jeff manned the SAW and the other squad members started putting rifle rounds down on the marines but this time the return fire was even more intensive. In addition, someone down below had noted the absence of anti-tank fire from the upper trenches and had directed the artillery fire onto the lower trenches. Huge explosions began to rip into the ground above and below. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before a lucky shot hit in just the right place.

Everyone was right. There was a bright flash of light and an explosion that blew in an entire section of their trench, obscuring even the infrared mode with dust and debris. Several screams echoed over the net, one them cut lethally short. Jeff felt shrapnel lance into his side and his legs, felt the sting of penetrating steel into his body. He was thrown down, gasping for breath, the SAW twisted and distorted from the blast.

His ears were ringing and his mind was not quite sure where he was and what he was doing. Slowly both of these problems faded to the point that he could hear frantic conversation over the continuing blast of explosions. He lifted his head up, remembering that he was in the middle of a battle. He checked his status screen and saw that his biosuit had been penetrated in two places but had sealed.