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«Your First platoon has turned up intact intermingled with the Twenty-First Cav and since they're already there they have been 'detached' for the duration as infantry support to the Cav.»
«Oh, shit.» The company commander shook his head and tried not to let the hysterical laughter that was bubbling to the surface overcome him. «Jesus, we are fucked.»
«The battalion trains—including all the spare food, mess section, ammunition, repair units and general logistics—somehow got on the Prince William Parkway and are halfway to Manassas. That's where breakfast is.»
«I'd be happy to load up and go after it. I mean the whole company.»
«I'm sure you would,» the battalion commander said dryly. «I have seen some consummately fucked-up exercises, but this is arguably the worst.»
«This isn't an exercise, sir,» said the Alpha commander, all the humor evaporated. A cold wash of chills came over him and his mouth went dry. «Charlie Company?»
«About where you are, effectiveness-wise, with the exception of Captain Lanceman being among the missing.» Something about the commander's lack of expression seemed to denote a lack of regret at the captain's absence.
«I put the XO, Lieutenant Sinestre, in charge and he has most of the company, but he is missing his mortars. I sent them Bravo's mortars and I'm detaching Bravo's perso
«And they are, sir?»
«The battalion has no reserve, this way, but worse we have no one on our right flank.»
«Where's Second batt?» the company commander asked, shocked.
«Somewhere around our mess section, thirty miles away near Manassas. That was the location they received to dig in. Brigade is ru
* * *
«Run that by me again.» Arkady Simosin felt like a half-dead corpse. As many times as he had participated in exercises—from a junior officer leading a tank platoon up through exercises with multiple corps—he had never seen such a tremendous mishmash as had happened during the night. His corps had utterly jumbled units and, apparently, directions and intentions. Now he was finding out just how badly. His staff had assembled to tell him the bad news with the Chief of Staff as official sacrificial lamb.
«As you know, sir, the corps battle plan called for the Forty-First to establish strong positions between the Potomac and the I-95/U.S. 1 area, the Thirty-Third to mass in the area of the roads and the Fiftieth to establish strong positions to the west of the roads, with a cavalry screen to the west and Nineteenth Armor in reserve. This plan was developed on the presumption that the Posleen would drive up the 95/1 axis towards Alexandria.»
«Tell me something I don't know,» snarled the general. His accent went briefly Brooklyn Slavic, always a bad sign. «You said something about the Forty-First being out of position.»
«Badly, sir. The Twenty-First and Fiftieth divisions are the only ones on the correct east-west axis. The Forty-First is set up seven miles to the rear and the Thirty-Third is set up four miles to the rear of where they are supposed to be. We have logistics trains forward of our combat teams and combat units. Currently we have three divisions echeloned instead of massed which is going to invite . . .»
«Defeat in detail.» Arkady grimaced and glanced at the screen of his PC. «That's not what this says. It just notes that they are not at full strength.»
«It perceives that a percentage of each unit is in the right location and, given the current chaos, that is their actual axis, General. Unfortunately, most of each division is in the area I just gave you. Those are the locations that they received to set up in or, in some cases, chose to set up in.»
«Okay.» Simosin flogged his tired brain for a solution. «Call the Twenty-First. Tell them to hold in place. If the Posleen make contact they are not to decisively engage but they should try to slow them down. Pull the Fiftieth back to where the Thirty-Third is actually axised. Pull the Forty-First forward to that axis. Get as many units properly joined up as possible in the time allotted along that axis.»
«That will put us almost on the Prince William, General,» noted the G-3. «Well north of the President's stated intent.»
«North or south of the Prince William?»
«South of it, sir.»
«Good, the President will have to suck it up; having that road at our backs will give us a way to move reinforcements back and forth and to retreat if necessary. Move the corps artillery north of the Occoquan; they'll be able to range for close support. And move all the logistic elements except ammunition and food north of it too. Tell the division commanders to make their own judgement on where their artillery should be placed. They should know that if it's north, if those bridges go down their artillery will be out of contact.
«What is the status on the bridges?»
«They're cored, mined and ready to drop, General,» said the Ninety-Fifth ID Assistant Division Engineer, a major-promotable. As the most senior noncommanding engineer left in the corps, he had been seconded to act as engineering liaison to replace the absent corps engineer. «They will drop them when the last of the units are south and the refugees are north or when the Posleen come into close-contact range.»
«Well, we'll just have to try and make sure that doesn't happen. Okay, get to shuffling units. We still have time to straighten this out, people; we just have to keep our heads on straight.»
CHAPTER 43
Near Ladysmith, VA, United States of America, Sol III
0912 EDT October 10th, 2004 ad
The Twenty-Ninth Infantry Division artillery fire was like a slight tap against a hornet's nest. Slowly at first, practically one at a time, the hornets began to wander out, looking around for whatever had kicked their home.
Ersin held onto the ceiling grab bar and the seat in front of him as the Humvee left the ground for the fifth time, this time striking a streambed with a tremendous splash that threw water over the hood of the all-terrain vehicle. Above him the twenty-five-millimeter chain gun burped. How anyone could expect to hit anything while airborne was beyond him but the gu
«Better get us hull-down, Tom,» the gu
He turned to look at the Special Forces master sergeant on the seat next to him and laughed. «I knew all that time playing Death World was going to come in handy someday!»
Ersin glanced out in time to see the trees behind them begin coming apart under the hammer of Posleen guns. In response the Humvee cornered so hard his clamped hand came loose and he slid across the compartment and slammed into the gu
«Sorry!» he yelled to the gu
«No problem, Sarge.» The gu
«Another klick to the interstate!» shouted the vehicle commander over the howl of the diesel engine. «I told them we're coming in!»