Concord,
Vallejo, Fairfield, Vacaville, Davis. The cities had crystallised momentarily
out of the fog and then faded back into obscurity. Elliot wiped the dew
have his visor. For something so big, the ride was very smooth, but not
for the sake of the humans. They were secondary to the 90mm gun's stability.
At the next overpass, helicopters were idling in the median. The tank company left the Interstate on both sides and stopped on the cross street. Tactical infantry packed up their recoilless rifles and machine guns; their helicopter would leapfrog the mobile unit and seize yet another junction in front of the advance.
Elliot slipped into the turret. The tank's optics used wavelengths that saw right through the dawn mist. Two gas stations, a resturant, a taco stand. A few houses further along the road. A mile east were the northern suburbs of Sacramento. Only a few people were out, perhaps the early hour, perhaps they had been warned to stay home. A highway patrol car came out of the fog, its lights and sirens blaring.
The invading PSM and the police had worked out a silent but effective truce. The police kept civillians away from the troops, and the troops left the police alone. Elliot doubted the police understood the full extent of the attack.
We've got company.
Two ancient APCs were approaching without artillery. Probably National Guard. PSM had left the armories alone since at this time of the year they were often homeless shelters. Two tanks brought their guns to bear. A pity really, but the APCs had to be stopped. Elliot doubted they could see through the fog, they probably didn't even know what they were charging into. The tanks openned fire, half a dozen shots apiece. The APCs had stopped askew in the middle of the road.
Half an hour, the company was pulled off the flank and rejoined the main column.
It was about noon when they stopped for lunch and reorganisation. Elliot could hear infantry and artillery fighting further north. Word came down they would do punch and rescue in the afternoon. They had trained for months to do this, but now they faced a real enemy.
If anything happens to me.... It was Jon, the gunner of another tank.
Nothing's going to. Be firm. Be definitive. Lie like hell.
Just explain it to my girlfriend, Marcia. She was so angry when I left. She's really into "turn the other cheek" and that kind of stuff. Please make her understand.
It's okay, soldier. Nothing's going to happen to you or me or anyone else. Get in your tank, we're heading out.
The tac infantry helicopters screamed overhead, kicking up dust. A thunder of artillery to suppress ground fire. The radio orderred the company to move out. In ten minutes they had reached the front. Armorred infantry and gunships were defending either flank of the narrow breach. Rest of Mobile B punched deeper into the enemy territory.
Some kilometres ahead the tactical infantry unit had landed on low ridge of hills among the enemy reserves and supplies. They quickly deployed their machine guns and rocket launchers, digging pits and trenches into the soft clay. The ISA armorred division trembled momentarily as its general came to understand what had happenned. The reserves surrounded the hill and some of the front formations were drawn back. On its own, the tac infantry box would not survive the night.
As
their enemy hesitated, the mobile unit punched through a narrow hole and
was now racing its armor through ISA lines to the box. Elliot watched the
armorred infantry veer to the flanks. They would dismount while their IFVs
rejoined the race. Elliot could see burning and abandonned tanks, mostly
theirs, some of his side. The hills rose above the orchards and farms.
He turned right and faced off against ten tanks southeast of the hills.
The gunships couldn't help-they were in their own aerial duel.
The PSM tanks concentrated on maneuver. They had a faster rate of fire and more speed, but lighter armour. Elliot knew they wouldn't survive standing up and fighting back. He was also worried about infantry. He had been stripped clean and didn't know when a rocket might fly of a hedge.
The last tanks and the IFVs had reached the box. Tac abandonned their position to mount up.
Elliot had exchanged one tank for three of theirs when the withdraw order came. He was never so glad. The enemy tanks let them go, their crews probably just as glad to survive this first battle. The IFVs recoverred their infantry and, happily overloaded, rejoined the withdrawal.
They arrived in time for supper in the same field where they had lunched.
This wasn't about territory, it was about disorganising and demoralising
the enemy. He saw Jon, laughing as he chowed down. Neither mentioned Marcia
again.