“This is a rainy day. It’s hailing bullets.” Justin pressed his back against the Land Rover’s tire.
More rounds clang against his truck and the other vehicles.
Kiawak said, “Yeah, I know Justin, but the battle has just begun.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“OK, so what do we do now?” Kiawak asked.
Their small group was huddled behind the ice ridge, next to the Seahawk helicopter. Though they had managed to gather together, they had done little to deal with the enemy’s air advantage in the air.
“Well, there are no reinforcements,” Justin said. “So, whatever we plan, it’s entirely up to us to do it.”
“Their strongest points of attack are the snipers and the Bell chopper,” Carrie noted. “Our defenses aren’t gonna hold forever if we don’t eliminate them.”
“Their sniper attacks came from only two positions.” Justin began to draw on a patch of snow. “Here and here.” He stabbed the snow at two points. “One by the terminal and the other to the left of the plane. The chopper usually strikes from the right, with two gunners. But everyone’s beyond our gunfire range.”
“So, we’ve got to get closer,” Anna said.
“That’s easy to say,” Joe replied. “Their snipers have us in their crosshairs at all times. If we attempt to advance, it’s certain death.”
“There’s got to be another way,” Justin said.
Carrie shook her head. “There isn’t. I have to agree with Anna. We need to push forward.”
“But how?” Kiawak asked.
“We need to move at the same time and at the same pace. The Danes have no idea how many men we have. But we know they have no more than two hundred of them. It’s impossible to squeeze more troops in that plane. I propose we begin a slow, motorized attack, one man driving a vehicle, with another one forcing their way in through constant shooting. I’ll cover from the air.”
“Wait a second,” Kiawak said. “The sloped terrain is very difficult for our vehicles, especially SUVs with no rear-wheel drive.”
“We’ll use all-wheel drive trucks only,” Justin said.
“I don’t know about throwing our entire force into battle all at once. We have about a hundred people, roughly,” Kiawak said.
“Thirty/sixty,” Carrie said. “We’ll prepare thirty trucks with sixty men, who will attack first. The second wave will be the rest. They’ll pour downhill once the front units have gained good positions.”
“If they make it,” Joe mumbled. “OK,” he added after a brief pause. “Let’s do it.”
“I’m going in the front line,” Kiawak said, “and you’re not coming with me. The men need you here.” He pointed his finger at Justin.
Justin smiled. Changing Kiawak’s mind was a lost cause. At least in these circumstances. “I’ll lead the second battalion, General.” Justin saluted Kiawak.
“What the hell are they doing?” Gunter barked, noticing ten trucks plodding through the snowbanks and sliding downhill toward the runway. The ruts they left behind in the snow looked like scratch marks of a giant’s hand. “They’re… they’re attacking us?”
“Negative, sir, we’re not taking fire,” Magnus replied over the radio. “But they’re advancing to gain strategic positions. My men are shelling them with heavy fire.”
Magnus’s two sharpshooters, Hobart and Soren, had burrowed trenches halfway between the runway and the hillside. They were taking aim indiscriminately at the approaching vehicles. Magnus raised his binoculars to his eyes just as Hobart clipped the right mirror of the front truck, a Ford 350. The driver steered to the left, but his rear wheel mired in an ice rift. The truck came to a halt. A man peered from the truck box and fired several shots from a light machine gun. Hobart corrected his aim by a few millimeters and his .50 caliber bullet blew away the right side of the shooter’s chest.
“One down, no, two down,” Hobart said with a smirk. Soren’s slug pierced a large hole through the driver’s door.
“Great job, guys,” Magnus congratulated them. “Keep it up.”
The Danish soldiers were shooting at the other vehicles too. Their firepower had stopped a Dodge Ram, but its driver was still blasting round after round. His machine gun bullets snipped ice chunks and raised snow dust in front of the Danish troops.
“Luigi and Benito, move forward!” Magnus called at the troops. “They’re still too far.”
Luigi looked back at Magnus, who was standing by the Hercules’s cargo door, and shook his head. Benito also ignored Magnus’s words, keeping his head down and flattening his body against the snow.
“Fucking mafiosi,” Magnus cursed.
“Sir, I’ve got it,” Hobert said.
He turned his sight to the right, toward the Dodge. A few rounds coming from a white truck to his left reminded him there were closer targets that needed his attention. Before he could take a shot, Soren pulled the trigger of his sniper rifle. The white truck kept inching downhill regardless of the hole Soren’s bullet drilled in its windshield. Hobert had no clear shot of the driver from his position. He aimed at the right front wheel and planted his bullet at the intended spot, blowing out the tire. The white truck sank in the snow and began to tip over, until it rested dangerously on its right side.
“Is the driver still alive?” Soren asked.
“I don’t know,” Hobert replied. “I don’t see any movement.”
“Let me handle this,” Valgerda whispered over the radio.
She began plowing through the knee-deep snow, avoiding rifts and crevasses. She tried to keep to the trail set by other troops who had marched through before her. Cutting to the left, toward her target, she noticed the muzzle of an assault rifle flashing at the rear end of the white truck. Valgerda lay on her stomach and began to crawl through the snow. She pushed forward for about sixty feet, and stopped when a couple of bullets slammed into an ice block less than four feet from her head.
She raised her Gevær M/95 rifle. Once the truck was exactly in her crosshairs, she pulled the trigger very slightly. The grenade launcher screamed, and a gray cloud of smoke engulfed her. Two seconds later, the warhead exploded in the white truck’s cabin tearing it to shreds.
“That’s it,” Magnus said. “Watch and learn, guys.”
Three other trucks began descending down the hill to their right flank. Magnus’s binoculars identified six men aboard the trucks.
“Hobart, Soren,” Magnus said. “We’ve got more visitors.”
“I’ll take care of them, sir,” Hobart replied.
“Sargon, Vince, and Ali,” Magnus ordered another group of recruits, “support Hobart and Soren by attacking these targets.” He glanced at the group. They were standing about one hundred and fifty feet away from the runway. “Onward, soldiers!”
“Sir, they’re shooting shit at us from all sides,” Ali replied over the radio. “It’s not safe to go any farther.”
Sargon and Vince dug their heels in as well.
“Soldiers,” Magnus hissed. “Move ahead as ordered. Now!”
Ali refused to respond to the command, but Magnus had no time to convince his defiant men. A metallic bird of prey materialized over the ice hills and began slaying the soldiers with its steel talons. The Seahawk poured a torrent of bullets over the frontline positions of the snipers before taking a sharp dive to the left and out of sight. The surprise attack had given the Danish force no time for any counteracting fire.
“Kill that damn pilot,” Gunter screamed over the radio.
Magnus adjusted the volume of his earpiece before suffering permanent damage to his eardrum.