Страница 100 из 169
The mortar platoon had three of its five fighting vehicles in what the platoon leader was fairly sure was the right place. After switching back and forth on their PRC-2000 radio they finally established contact with the platoon sergeant and the first squad track. The same method finally got them in contact with the company net; the company commander's RTO was flipping around to the old and new frequencies trying to find its units.
The information from the company was mildly encouraging. They were in more or less the right place. Some of the company's line platoons were in more or less the right place. And the company commander was fairly sure that he would be able to contact battalion «soon.» A request for refueling and chow, however, was answered with an unsettling «we'll have to get back to you on that.»
Now fairly sure that there were some gun-bu
«You know, I like Lieutenant Leper. I mean . . .» Keren tossed another shovel of dirt out of the fighting position he was digging next to the mortar track. He might not need the hole, but if he did he knew he was going to need it bad and in a hurry. Most of the platoon thought he was an idiot.
«Can it, Keren.» Sergeant Herd knew he had the best gu
«No, really, he's a nice guy and he tries hard. . . .» continued the specialist. He tossed another shovelful of dirt out of the hole, and looked around to see if he'd hit anyone with it. No. Damn.
«What,» snorted Sheila Reed, the ammo bearer and track driver, «you think you could do better?»
«Shit, I know I could do better,» Keren responded, tossing the next shovelful higher. A drift of the wind caught it and threw dust onto the rest of the crew lounging on the track. His chocolate face creased as they cursed him.
«Go out there and do it, then,» said Tom Riley, the assistant gu
«Fuck no, Sergeant Ford is out there. You know what a bastard he is.»
«Fuck Ford,» said Herd, suddenly interested. «He can do Fire Direction, but anybody that can punch numbers can do that. Do you really think you can lay in the guns?»
«I can tell what their problem is from here,» Keren said, throwing the D-handle shovel out of the hole and dusting off his hands. «They can't get the deflection head leveled up. It's not like a one-twenty, where you only have to level side to side. A deflection head you gotta level all the way around.» He hoisted himself out of the hole and looked at his squad leader.
«Go on. Tell Ford if he has a problem to take it up with me.» Sergeant Herd knew the specialist was probably right. Having volunteered before the invasion was ever heard of, the gu
Keren pulled his sleeves down and settled his cap on his head. Regulations called for wearing the Kevlar helmet at all times in the field, but his Kevlar was in the track—where it did some good keeping you from banging your head—and that was where it was go
«Okay Zippy,» he said, referring to Riley by his nickname, «get ready to lay that bastard in.»
As he neared the pair Sergeant Ford turned and glared at him. «We don't need your help, Keren, so get lost.»
«Already am Sergeant, happens any time I leave the barracks. Sergeant Herd told me to come over and see if I could be of assistance.»
«Sergeant Ford,» said Lieutenant Leper, «maybe you could go and see if you can reestablish communication with battalion TOC.»
Ford glared at the specialist and stalked off towards the FDC track.
«Specialist, I seem to be having a little trouble with leveling this up. I've watched Staff Sergeant Simmons any number of times and I thought I knew how but . . .»
«Yes, sir, I understand,» Keren said, tactfully. «These things are a real bugger to level.» He grabbed the leveling knobs and centered them, then looked at the bubble and stomped one leg of the tripod down. Using both hands he manipulated all three knobs, two at a time for a few seconds and spun the sight around.
«Direction of fire is twenty-eight hundred, right, sir?» he asked.
«Twenty-eight hundred mils, right,» said the confused lieutenant, looking over his shoulder to ensure that the recalcitrant bubble was in fact centered. To his amazement it was. «How the hell did you do that so fast?»
«The same way you get to Carnegie hall, sir.» The specialist manipulated the head to twenty-eight hundred mils and spun it towards his track. «Two gun aiming point this instrument!» he shouted.
«Two gun, aiming point identified!» Riley answered. The gu
«Deflection, one-seven one seven five! Close enough.»
«Deflection, one-seven one seven five!»
Keren spun the sight towards the other track and read off the numbers. «Three gun!»
«Three gun!»
«Aiming point this instrument!»
«Aiming point identified!»
«Deflection one-nine one one eight!»
«Deflection one-nine one one eight!»
He waited until the guns called up, secretly pleased that the assistant gu
«That was amazing. How did you get the bubble to level so fast?» the officer asked, still surprised at the casual display of skill.
«My first platoon sergeant taught me that trick, sir. If the bubble seems like it should go one way, you have to grab two knobs. Twist one to push the bubble and twist the other in the opposite direction. Also you should be looking at the bubble from your normal sighting angle, rather than trying to crane down from on top. That keeps you from chasing the bubble.»
«I'll remember that. Thanks.»
«De nada, sir. No offense but we really needed to get laid in.»
«I know. I think the company is really going to need us this time.» The young lieutenant was obviously trying very hard not to look scared. For an officer to look frightened was bad form and also he had been told it was guaranteed to push the troops over into panic in a situation just like this one. Unfortunately he was trying so hard not to look scared that he was looking terrified instead.
«Sir,» said Keren, taking pity on the poor kid. «We're three klicks behind the line and we've got a battalion of line dogs in front of us. What do we have to worry about?»
«Is it that obvious?»
«Hell, yes. Want some unsolicited advice, sir?»