Counter-Attack
Day 3
Eastern Havana
0254hrs
"I'm telling you I saw something."
Lieutenant Garcia sighed.
"You sure?" he asked.
"Positive," Sergeant Zoshack told him, pointing to their front. Garcia quickly stuck he head over the barricade they were sheltered behind, he saw something move.
Garcia nodded motioning for his radioman. Taking the handset from him.
"This is Garcia 19," he said. "I'm requesting illumination in front of my location, stand by for HE on same coordinates."
"Roger that Garcia," a voice replied. "Illumination incoming, HE on the ready."
Three miles away, outside the city, a battery of Rhino 105mm artillery tanks sat, a single tank fired an illumination round. The round detonated in air, releasing a red flare. The grounding front of them was illuminated exposing Covenant Elites, Jackals, and Grunts. There were hundreds, if not thousands of them. Line after line of them, numerous grunts hauling plasma turrets. They suddenly froze. The Marines opened fire, Scorpion tanks a couple dozen yards, behind them adding in. The Covenant, dropping by the dozens, caught out in the open, began to charge.
"Go for the Elites," Garcia ordered, as he fired.
Zoshack next to him was firing a M247. His radioman suddenly screamed and collapsed, clutching his chest.
"MEDIC!" Garcia shouted.
He grabbed the handset from his radioman.
"We need artillery at our location," he shouted, trying to be heard over the roar of gunfire. "Right now."
The Rhinos simultaneously fired, six HE shells landing among the Covenant, sending bodies flying.
"Keep em coming," Garcia ordered. Shells rained down into the Covenant ranks.
Garcia shouted a curse, dropping the handset, as an Elite jumped onto the barricade they were sheltered behind. He began to fire three round bursts into the alien, its body jerking as the 9.5mm rounds ripped into it. Its shield died as another burst ripped into the creature's throat, showering Garcia in blue blood. The Elite fell backwards.
More Covenant swarmed over the barricade, plasma being fired directly into Marines' faces. The Marines kept of their fire, beating them back over the barricade. Garcia ducked as plasma grenades began to land among them. He heard Zoshack scream. The grenades detonated. Garcia looked up and Zoshack was gone.
"Frags over!" Garcia shouted.
He reached for a grenade and lobbed it over the barricade, others doing the same. He heard the Covenant, shriek, hoot, and bark as the grenades detonated.
"All units, Covenant forces have broken through at B Company's location," someone said over the battalion net, built into his helmet. "All units are to fallback to your secondary positions."
"Fallback," Garcia ordered. "Fall back to secondary positions."
He grabbed his radioman by the arms and helped him to a Scorpion, the tank's own M247 madly firing. Garcia lifted the wounded Marine on. He turned and fired, covering the rest of his platoon as they retreated, some jumping on the tank as it pulled out of its position and slowly reversed, still firing.
An explosion knocked him down, he picked himself up, plasma and needles kicking up around him. He ducked into a doorway, plasma scorching the wall. He tried to beat open the door with his rifle.
"Fuck," he growled when it refused to open. He turned back out, preparing to run. An arm suddenly grabbed him from behind and hauled him inside.
"What the hell," he muttered, grabbing his M6C and aiming it at the shadow.
"Shhh!" a voice said. "Follow."
The figure lit a match, illuminating a middle-aged man dressed in black. He led Garcia down a flight of steps leading into a basement.
"Down here," he whispered pointing to a hole in the floor.
Garcia holstered his pistol and climbed down the rusty ladder, leading into a sewer. He was surprised to find several men and women waiting, some armed. The man started down the ladder, pausing to replace the hatch and came down.
"I'm Ralph Miles," the man said offering his hand. "And you are…"
"Oh, Lieutenant Garcia," he replied, still a bit surprised.
"We should get moving Ralph," someone said coming up, he gave Garcia the once over and began to walk away. The others following.
"That's Charlie," Ralph whispered. "He thinks he's in charge."
Garcia nodded, watching Charlie lead them off through the tunnel.
"It'd be best if you stick with us for now," Ralph told him.
He fell in aside of Ralph as they slowly moved through the sewer.
"So you're a Marine?" a younger one, probably in his teens, asked. He was cradling an old bolt action rifle.
"Ya."
"What unit?"
"82nd of the 147th."
"What happened?" the teen asked.
"I'm sorry?" Garcia replied.
"How did you get separated?"
"We were told to fallback and I was taking fire so I ducked into a doorway. Ralph must have heard my knocking."
"I was searching the house for food," Ralph announced.
"Why were our proud Marines retreating?" Charlie asked from the front.
"The Covenant broke through in one part of our line."
"Big mad Marines," he muttered sarcastically.
Several of the group traded looks. They continued on in silence.
"Yo, Charlie," Garcia said, hustling up to him. "You want me to take point?"
Charlie glared at him, "I got it jarhead."
Garcia stopped, letting the rest pass by, falling in behind Ralph. They quietly continued through the sewer, either heading for survival or death at the hands of the Covenant, Garcia wasn't sure which.
Spotslow woods
0333hrs
Cussler emptied his mag into an Elite that came charging at them.
"Blow the mine!" he shouted.
Dixon picked up the remote and pressed the button. The Antlion antipersonnel mine they placed in front of them detonated, engulfing a squad of Grunts and two Elites. Cussler fired a burst into a stunned Jackal, struggling to get its shield to work.
Just after 3 a.m. the Covenant attacked, hard. Swarms of the bastards swept through the woods. They called in airstrikes around their perimeter and beat back the first wave. Now they were acting smart using fire and maneuver tactics.
A hail of plasma singed the air above them, making them duck down. Cussler began to blind fire, trying to stall the Covenant attack.
"Cover me throwing grenade," Dixon told him.
Cussler jumped up and rapidly fired three round bursts at everything that moved. Dixon's grenades landed next to a plasma turret, engulfing it in a ball of fire.
A group of Jackals, their shields overlapping began to advance on them, two Elites following, firing their Carbines. Cussler fired at the nearest Jackal, having no effect. They barely parted, allowing a Grunt to set up a turret, which began to fire upon them.
"Shit now what," Dixon asked.
John tried to get a shot, but plasma streaked by.
"Fuck, cover me I'll try to flank them," Cussler said.
Dixon lobbed another grenade at them as Cussler jumped up out of the hole. He sprinted out to their right, ducking behind a tree. He could see the Jackals green shields, as well as the blue plasma, being poured at Dixon.
He slowly crept behind them, being careful not to make to much noise. Muzzle flashes from other positions gave an eerie effect. He had to be careful, not to step on any bodies from the first wave and trip.
John suddenly froze, easing himself against a tree, which wasn't shredded from the airstrikes. A squad of Grunts was approaching him. He was next to invisible in black fatigues and armor, but he gently brought up his rifle, just in case, preparing for the worst. They slowly began to pass by one by one.
He let out a breath of relief when they passed and began for the turret. He finally was fully around them. Gripping his –55 in his left hand, his right grabbing a grenade, arming and throwing it. It landed quietly behind the group.
The grenade detonated, sending the Jackals, tumbling towards, vaporizing the Elites and destroying the plasma turret.
"Dix, coming back," he shouted.
Cussler sprinted forward past the dead Covenant and dove into the hole.
"Nice job," Dixon told him. The plasma fire finally slackened and then stopped and everything became quiet. "What the hell," Dixon muttered.
Two blue flares suddenly were launched behind them, basking the area in a blue glow. "Fallback now?" Cussler asked.
Dixon shrugged and they climbed out. Barks, hoots, and shrieks rose up behind them. Plasma mortars started to land near them.
"Oh shit, run!" Cussler told him.
They sprinted towards the flares, plasma and needles streaked above them as they weaved around trees and bushes. They finally broke out into the open, running for the trench. Other Marines were coming out of the woods, all heading for the same location. John jumped in, Dixon following. To his surprise, they met Fraizer and Grover.
"Glad to see you two," Fraizer told them. "Get up on the firing step and stay ready. They're massing in front of us."
A red flare was launched, their signal that anything moving in the trees was to be shot. Cussler climbed up onto the step, propping his rifle on the lip of dirt at the top. He quickly scraped a small ledge in the dirt and set three grenades on it. The flare slowly drifted to the ground and died. Everything suddenly became quite. No one moved, afraid to make noise. Cussler held his breath waiting for the next move.
The wood line suddenly erupted in a sheet of plasma and needles. Marines began to scream around him. He ducked down as plasma stitched the top of the trench. Fraizer grunted and dropped backwards off the step. The Marines slowly began to return fire, the Scorpions firing their first rounds. Explosions dotted the tree line as 90mm shells and Antlion mines detonated amongst the Covenant.
Cussler stepped down off the step, kneeling next to Fraizer, who was cursing, clutching his arm. A pink needle was sticking out. He reached into his pack for biofoam. The needle exploded, taking a large chunk out of his bicep. Fraizer groaned and leaned back. John inserted the tip of the biofoam container in the wound. He slapped a bandage on it and tied it tight around his arm. Fraizer nodded his thanks and climbed back up, firing his M7 one handed. Cussler jumped back up, the open ground was swarming with Covenant.
"There's thousands of them," Grover gasped.
"Keep firing," Fraizer said through gritted teeth.
The Covenant forces began to charge the trench, wildly firing their weapons. Plasma and needles kicked up around them. Cussler felt something burn his arm, but he kept shooting. His ammo counter quickly dropped to zero and he slammed in a fresh mag. He grabbed a grenade and threw it. It seemed to have no effect, the Covenant just climbed over their dead. They seemed hell-bent on taking the crossroads at any cost.
Major Jackson watched the Covenant onslaught near his men, from his CP. The Scorpions were firing a constant stream of 7.62 bullets and 90mm shells but it was having no effect. They were going to need help. The Covenant were charging forward, nearing the trenches. One they reached it, his men would be slaughtered. They need help and soon.
"Get me Captain Perry now," he told his radioman.
Private First Class Eric Roland of the 54th gritted his teeth as the recoil from his M247 shook him to the bone. He swept the field, the 7.62 bullets shredding Covenant forces. But it was having no effect. Roland would gun down ten, and twenty would take its place. One squad would drop down, spraying the area with plasma and needles, while another moved up. It was working and they were approaching the trench, getting closer every second. The Scorpion behind him fired, sending bodies flying, it's own 247 firing madly.
"Roland," his assistant gunner, Robert Jepson shouted to him. "Slow your rate of fire, or you'll met the barrel."
"We're fucked either way," he shouted back and kept firing.
He spotted a pair of Hunters in the mass of Covenant and swung his gun towards them, still firing. He poured fire into the first. It brought its shields up but couldn't stand the hail of bullets. It reared back, gushing orange blood, and collapsed. Its partner roared and rumbled forward, right towards Roland. He concentrated fire on it until it to collapsed in a heap.
His AG opened another box of ammo, ready to reload. A second later the gun stopped. Roland quickly opened the feed cover while Jepson fed him the new belt. He slipped it into place and slapped the cover back down, yanking the charging handle.
He reaimed his MG at an Elite, when something struck him, hard, in the chest. He leaned back and fell of the firing step, gasping for breath. Jepson knelt next to him, checking his wound, pulling out a can of biofoam. Roland struggled to pick his head up and look at the wound, but Jepson pushed him down.
"MEDIC!" Jepson screamed.
"Hang in there," he told Roland.
A medic came running up. Jepson climbed back onto the step and began to fire the M247. The medic applied pressure to the wound trying to slow the bleeding.
"You're gonna be fine," the medic told him.
Roland could still faintly hear him, but the voice was becoming distant, as blackness overtook him.
"Load a Beehive," Corporal Mike Clifton ordered.
His gunner, Ryan Li, signaled that it was loaded. Clifton fired, the Scorpion's main cannon roared. The Beehive round sent 8000 flechettes downrange. Dozens of Covenant dropped.
"Another Beehive."
"Loading Beehive," Li replied. "Loaded."
He fired again, dozens more dropped. A Marine climbed up into the M247 turret, underneath the main cannon. Clifton hoped the man had hearing protection, or else he wouldn't be hearing anything for a while. Plasma scorched the armor around the Marine, but he kept firing.
"Another Beehive!"
He fired again, dozens more being massacred.
"Mike, enemy Wraith hidden in the trees," Li called out.
"Load a HEAT."
"Loading HEAT."
He sighted the tank and fired. The round impacted on the front of the tank.
"Another HEAT."
He fired again, the Wraith exploding in a blue fireball. His turret gunner suddenly grunted and leaned against the gun. Clifton called out to him but got no reply.
"Shit incoming," Li shouted.
A mortar impacted on the front of the Scorpion. He heard Li scream. The 90mm cannon was bent at an awkward angle, useless. He climbed down into the tank, flinching as sparks shot out of controls. A red light was flashing, signaling that the engine was disable. They were stuck.
He reached Li. He was pinned under the automated arm, which loaded the shells. Equipment blocked his way.
"Ryan!" he called to him.
He got no reply. He tried to reach forward when he saw the metal pipe lodged into Li's skull. He turned back and climbed out, grabbing his M6 Carbine, an M6C pistol with a longer barrel and stock.
He climbed out of the tank, sprinting the short distance to the trench, when another mortar struck the tank. The turret exploded, flying off.
"Who are you?" a Marine asked.
"Tanker."
The Marine nodded and went back to firing. Clifton joined him on the firing step and carefully aiming, he fired.
For PFC Jessica Grover it was the same, slap in a fresh mag, gun down several Covenant, repeat. She ducked down as a plasma grenade sailed into the trench, attaching itself to an ODST, trying to clear a jam in his Br-55.
"Get it off," she shouted to him.
The Marine ripped off his helmet and heaved it out of the trench towards the Covenant. He managed to breathe a sigh of relief when another stuck to him.
"Oh fu-," he managed before it exploded.
"Bastards," she cursed, standing back up and emptied her mag into a charging Elite.
A group of Jackals overlapped their shields, with another row angling their shields upward to prevent grenades from landing behind them, and began slowly coming towards then, laying down a good rate of fire. A Scorpion behind her fired it 90mm cannon, sending the Jackals flying.
A silver armored Elite charged towards her, wielding an energy sword. She fired at it but the alien leaped over her and landed behind her in the trench. She turned and tried to fire as the Elite swung the sword, cutting her across the lower chest. She screamed and collapsed to the ground.
Fraizer heard this and turned on the Elite and sprayed fire at it, from up on the firing step. Its shields died, but the Elite swung again, amputating both his legs off. The Elite turned back to Grover, who was struggling to crawl away, and unholster her M6C at the same time. It stepped up to her and raised its energy sword, stabbing her in the chest.
Corporal William McPherson fired his M90, 8-gauge shotgun at the Elite just as it, stabbed an ODST. He jacked in another shell and fired again. The Elite flipped end over end as the buckshot ripped into it. He fired again into the dead alien.
He knelt next to the ODST, checking for a pulse. There was none. Another ODST lay nearby, both his legs missing above the knee.
"Bastard," McPherson growled and fired again into the dead Elite.
He picked up the ODST's BR-55 and began to fire. He spotted a pair of Hunters approaching the trench. They fired their fuel rod cannons at a MG emplacement, the gunner being vaporized.
"Hatcher, rocket," McPherson called out.
Private Hatcher came running up, cradling his M19 launcher. He climbed up to the step and aimed.
A tank behind them fired, just as Hatcher did, the 90mm shell reaching the target before the 102mm rocket. The Hunter was vaporized as the two explosives struck it. Its partner sighted Hatcher as the source, roared and charged towards them.
Hatcher panicked and fired again, the rocket going wide.
"Shit," Hatcher cursed fumbling for another tube. McPherson fired at the charging Hunter trying to delay it. The Hunter fired its fuel rod cannon at him. McPherson ducked as the green beam struck the far side of the trench. The Hunter jumped into the trench, the ground trembling as it landed. It knocked McPherson down hard.
Hatcher raised the M19 but the Hunter smacked it out of his hands, the launcher landing next to McPherson. The Hunter roared again and brought its shield down hard, decapitating Hatcher.
McPherson crawled to the M19 as the Hunter came over to him. He picked it up, the Hunter was towering over him, raising its boot, preparing to crush him. McPherson aimed as the boot came down and fired.
"Are you sure?" the Shortsword squadron commander asked.
"Affirmative," Major Jackson replied grim faced. "They're in our trenches."
He set the handset down, grabbing his M6J Carbine, leaning against a rock, already hearing the low hum. He aimed at the Covenant, that were jumping over the trench, heading towards his CP and the crossroads.
Cussler jabbed his battle rifle's barrel into the Elites chest, and squeezed the trigger. Its shields couldn't handle the 9.5mm bullets at such a close range and failed. He fired another burst that ripped through the alien. It dropped backwards against the wall of the trench. Its squad of Grunts jumped in as well. John gunned them down, quickly changing mags.
Another Elite landed next to him, knocking his gun outta his hands. Cussler quickly pulled out his M6C and fired at the Elite, dropping it. Another jumped in, Grunts following. John emptied the pistol mag into the Elite, its shields dying. He dropped his pistol and unsheathed his combat knife. Jabbing it into the Elites throat, pulling it out and stabbing it again. It collapsed to the ground, dead. He quickly stabbed the nearest Grunt, blue blood spraying across his faceplate. He yanked it out and killed another.
"Cussler," Edwards shouted grabbing him by the arm. "We got air strikes coming, get down and stay down.
John nodded picking up his BR-55. He gunned down a Jackal and two more Grunts when he heard the roar. A Skyhawk soared over head, its 50mm cannons blazing. Cussler quickly flattened himself on the ground, trying to cover himself with Covenant bodies. More of them jumped down into the trench, engaging the Marines still standing.
There were a series of loud explosions, shaking the ground beneath him, slowly getting closer. John was suddenly picked up and thrown back down as one landed nearby. He could feel the heat from the explosion. The last thing he saw was the outline of Sergeant Edwards, still standing, calmly firing his M90 into the faces of Covenant that were jumping into the trenches. Then everything went white.
Lieutenant Birney watch in horror as the Shortswords made another pass, dropping more 200lbs Phosphorus bombs right on the Marine positions. Major Jackson wanted it right on top of them, and he was getting it.
"Jesus Christ," Lieutenant Smith gasped behind him, watching the hellish scene.
The bombers started at the tree line and worked their way in. Thousands of Covenant infantry were being massacred.
"Bastards," Birney thought to himself.