"Alpha Company will hold responsibility for integrating support with Bravo Troop, 7th Cavalry holding positions to seaward in the Qualtrek and Saltrek megascrapers. Charlie will provide fire support for flank interdiction. As you can see on the map, Qualtren is anchored in the massif, which will secure our flank. Battalion lasers will disperse themselves to Charlie and Alpha to provide fire support. Battalion scouts will take up hide positions in Naltrev megascraper to give approach warning and initiate the battle. Battalion mortars will locate to the rear of the Qualtren megascraper to provide fire support, company mortars to collocate.
"Upon positive location, as determined by battalion scouts, Multiple Launch Rocket Systems from Corp and 105mm artillery from our task force battery will fire artillery support missions on call to the slot between Daltren and Daltrev. There, final protective fire will start. Fire plans are in the briefing packets. Bravo company will remain in reserve, split between Qualtren and Qualtrev. The reserve will be deployed only on direct orders from the battalion commander.
"Direct fire may be ordered by the company commanders when the enemy is within one thousand meters or when they are in view, whichever is less. No direct fire over a thousand meters; we want a maximum punch on the initial volley. Indirect fire once the Posleen are in view of the battalion will be under direct control of the battalion commander and the FSO. There are to be no visible fortifications erected, no barb wire, concertina or visible bunkers. The idea is to strike with shock and surprise, not give away our MLR. Are there any questions?"
Mike turned to Lieutenant Eamons and whispered, "How 'bout `Did yo' momma drop you on your head?' " Lieutenant Eamons snorted without changing expression. Major Norton glanced angrily his way and Mike schooled his features like a child misbehaving in class. Every simulation he had run and every story he had read about fighting the Posleen told him that the battle was a prescription for defeat. Deploying the battalion vertically, as the plan called for, opened your forces up to being fired upon by the entire advancing force without any countervailing improvement in the battalion's effectiveness.
The basic tactic recommended for battling "swarming" Posleen was two dimensional. Get a heavy position, get packed in fairly tight—how tight depended upon how resistant your position was to HVM fire—and set up a wall of fire between your position and the Posleen. One of the Scottish GalTech officers had called it "sloshing them with Martinis," a reference so old that everyone but Mike had had to look it up. Fighting Posleen had also been likened to fighting a wildfire, and with good reason. And then there was the other problem.
Captain Jackson, the fire support officer, stood up. "This is not a question , Major, it's a comment. No-Can-Do."
"What do you mean, `No Can Do,' Captain?" the major responded, snappily.
"Well, the Multiple Launch Rocket System is fully dedicated to 10th Panzer Division. Corp intelligence, at least, thinks the Posleen will strike with the greatest weight on their location. We might, would, be able to get them for FPF, except for one thing: the damn megascrapers. There's only seventy-five meters between them and they're nearly a mile damn high. That presents an angularity problem that artillery can not overcome. The artillery firing support for the other units is just backing up a few klicks and firing right down the avenues. We can't do that because of the dogleg that Sisalav takes from the mountain. So, basically, forget arty."
Major Norton looked stunned for a moment then rallied. "Okay, we'll forget artillery. Any other questions or comments?"
"No," whispered Mike, " `Who thought up this abortion?' would be tactless."
25
Fredericksburg, VA Sol III
1342 August 4th, 2002 AD
The first part of the trip from Fort Benning, Georgia to Indiantown Gap, Pennsylvania was a nightmare. Without a second drill sergeant, Pappas had run himself ragged keeping track of the recruits. PFC Ampele and Drill Corporal Adams became his right arms, chivvying the distracted recruits, who were seeing "real life" again for the first time in fourteen weeks, back into line. He felt less like a platoon sergeant during those two days than a cowboy, and he swore that when he had the troops back under his thumb in barracks they were going to pay dearly.
The entire trip was by bus, and it seemed that the driver insisted on a break every fifty miles. Since the bus had an on-board latrine, for most of the first day Pappas kept the platoon on the bus, but at last they had to debark for dinner. Since Line and Fleet Strike troops were entirely volunteer, the military propaganda machine had let itself go quite thoroughly and the recruits in their gray and silver battle silks drew the locals like honey. Pappas found himself deluged with questions, most of which he felt compelled to answer. Suddenly he realized that he could only count twenty or so of his forty troopers and swore when he realized that most of the missing troops were from the notorious second squad.
He had thought about breaking up second squad three or four times but each time he talked himself out of it. The problem with second squad was that they were about as good as they thought they were. In every training class the members learned the lessons spot on first time. Second squad members never fell asleep, their equipment was always perfect, their details were always done on time or early. They scored higher as an average than any but two or three other individuals in the company. It was one of those unfortunately rare occasions when a group in the military was uniformly competent and capable. Unfortunately the squad leader, PFC James Stewart, as charming a rogue as ever a young maiden could hope to meet, was quite possibly the Antichrist.
Shortly after the basic training group arrived inspections of the company and several companies around revealed increasing amounts of hard alcohol in the possession of recruits. While it was impossible to completely cut off the flow of illicit liquor in basic training usually a bottle would turn up once every few weeks in a training battalion. Suddenly several were being uncovered every week. Intensive interrogation of the frightened recruits could not reveal the source; the bootleggers were using dead drops.
A recruit would place an order at any one of innumerable locations. Small slips of paper along with the payment were slipped into a crevice in the barracks wall or in the bathroom or in the bleachers. The next day the bottle would appear in the recruit's equipment locker or he would find instructions on where to pick it up. CID, the Ground Force Criminal Investigation Division, was called in and tried for weeks to catch the smugglers in the act but was always just a little off in timing. Once investigators covertly watched a dead drop for three days only to find out that the hole in the wall went all the way through.
Alcohol, cigarettes, candy, pornography, but, strangely, no drugs. In the twelfth week the training for Alpha company included a two-week field exercise. By the second week there were no full bottles found in the company or the battalion. Obviously the bootleggers were centered in Alpha company.
The agents of CID descended in force on Alpha company but Gunnery Sergeant Pappas had known in his heart all along who the ringleader was. In the last week of training over an imaginary fault during Saturday inspection he threw the sort of raging fit usually associated with the first few weeks in basic. Ordering the platoon out of the barracks, physically hurling a few out the door, he and the company's first sergeant, a doggie Special Forces veteran with a longer and even more varied career than his, tore the barracks apart.
Beds were hurled out the windows to be followed by wall lockers, equipment lockers, clothes, equipment and anything else moveable they could find. As each item was ejected it was subjected to a brief but intense inspection. Nearly stumped, they finally found what they were looking for hidden in a hollow in the cinder block wall itself, concealed behind the wall locker of none other than the second squad leader.