Chapter Three: Storm of Steel
15, May, 2019
Central Usea
10:26
Shaw watched his Sabot round impact the lead tank causing it to shutter to a halt and burst into flames. With no time to marvel at his work, he called up a sensing.
"Target!"
Along his platoon's sector, Keen watched every round hit with deadly precision. It appeared that Holland's demand to bore sight the guns every other day had paid off. He keyed the comms once more and yelled into the mic. "Low sky, low sky, low sky!"
At once every tank pulled back down into the battle positions and prepared to engage the next batch of targets. Yanovich slammed another Sabot into the breach and yelled up. Down in the valley, the mechanized platoon made up of BMPs picked up speed and continued to push. Giving up control measures, Keen ordered his platoon to go weapons-free allowing them to engage targets at will.
Shaw brought the gun to bear on a BMP-3 that had just passed in front of the burning tanks. "Identified PC, range 1,500!"
In the back of his mind, Shaw knew it'd be wasteful to engage a personnel carrier with a Sabot round, but it would take up precious time to have his loader remove the Sabot and load MPAT.
"Fire, fire MPAT and adjust!" Keen ordered no taking his eyes off the sights.
Getting one more laze to confirm range, Shaw yelled into his CVC. "On the way!"
The tank lurched and the massive breach block recoiled, spitting the spent aft cap onto the turret floor. The sabot made easy work of the BMP's thin frontal armor slicing through it and leaving behind a cherry red hole. The surviving crew and mounted infantry bailed out of the burning carrier only to be greeted by a hail of machine-gun fire from Bravo 50.
"Target!"
"Ceasefire," Keen said, grasping the TC control handle and bringing the CITV onto another BMP. "Designate PC!" The tank commander hit the TC override button on the control handle and automatically slewed the gun onto target and into Shaw's gun sight.
"Identified, range 1,300!"
"Up!"
"Fire and adjust!"
"On the way!"
Keen observed the tracer over the MPAT round as it arced downrange. Unlike a Sabot, MPAT was a multipurpose round with an HE warhead meant for light armor and helicopters. The round impacted center-mass, just as Shaw had done with the last two rounds. "Target, driver back!"
Yanovich shoved another MPAT round into the breach and armed the gun. "Up!"
Not looking away from the CDU, a display unit detailing all critical systems of the tank, Keen addressed his crew. "Just like that boys, keep up the good work!"
The gunner didn't bother to reply, he was already too busy tracking another BMP. He cursed under his breath as the personnel carrier left his sector. He hit the push-to-talk switch and transmitted on platoon. "Two Golf, BMP crossing TRP 2!"
"Roger, I got him!"
Confident in his wingman's ability as a gunner, Shaw disengaged in order to search for another target. It wasn't long before the sound of cannon fire began to recede, the company had blunted the Erusean's first attempt to push through the valley but they were soon to return.
With a lull in the action, the crew conducted their battle damage assessment. Yanovich safed the gun and removed the expended aft caps from the basket. Meanwhile, Keen transmitted on platoon net confirming kills and rounds expended. In their first engagement, Third Platoon had engaged and destroyed one platoon of tanks and a platoon plus of BMPs. Across the company formation, another platoon of tanks was destroyed along with three more platoons of BMPs.
When the information was relayed back to the Battalion TOC the company was informed that what they had destroyed was consistent with an Erusean mechanized Rifle Company. If Erusean doctrine was anything to go by that meant they had only been the first echelon and the second wave was close behind. However, it was also Erusean doctrine to never throw more men into a failed attack and to find somewhere else to assault through.
The adrenaline of the crew had begun to die down and Shaw realized how nerve-racking the experience had been. He released the control handles and immediately reached for his menthols. He struggled to get his zippo to light as his hands trembled but eventually got one to light. His TC tapped on his shoulder and Shaw looked up at him. Keen looked like he'd seen a ghost, all color had drained from his face and he rapidly tapped his heel against the turret floor. No doubt Shaw knew that he looked the same.
"C-can I get one of those?"
Shaw couldn't come up with a snide remark, he just passed the pack of Camels to his TC and lit the menthol for him. Keen took a long drag and coughed before taking another hit.
"First time?"
Keen just looked at the smoldering ember then back at the CDU. "Yeah."
"You get used to it," Yanovich replied, holding a cigarette of his own. "Try exhaling through your nose."
The TC took another hit, this time the smoke had gone down smoother and he began to feel his nerves relax. He watched the thermal image flicker as the vehicles in the valley below continued to burn. Black smoke billowed into the air as rubber and oil burned, once in a while, there was the crackle and pop of ammunition cooking off. Shaw took the break in the action as a chance to stand up and stretch his back.
A crackle over the intercom indicated Ford had hit his push-to-talk switch. "Just like training?"
"Say again?" Shaw replied between a drag of his smoke.
"It was just like training S'arnt."
Shaw hadn't thought about it but his driver was right. Like a well-oiled machine, the crew had engaged the enemy in quick succession that would have made any master gunner proud. In fact, Shaw didn't even think of the Erusean tanks as actual vehicles manned by a human crew. All he saw were the plywood cutouts he always shot during gunnery. He could only imagine it was the same for the other members of Third Platoon.
The temporary peace was shattered when a series of earth-shaking explosions brought the crew back to reality. Keen tossed what remained of the cigarette out of the turret and began rapidly scanning the engagement area.
"Bravo Six, White One. Shellrep over."
"White One, Six send it."
"White One. HE and WP impacting from Whiskey November 456-335 to 462-337. Caliber and number of rounds unknown, over."
Keen found the grid on the JCR and breathed a sigh of relief, there was no one at the grid that Second Platoon's PL had reported. Luck was still on their side as the Erusean forward observers still didn't quite know where the Company was. Keen could only hope that it would remain that way in the hours to come. His relief was short-lived as Shaw began to call out targets.
"Identify tank, 1,700!"
"Up!"
Keen looked through the GPSE and watched as the lead elements of the second echelon pushed into the valley. Eight Eruseans tanks formed a line, each held formation 100 meters apart from each other. A high-velocity cannon crackled as Bravo 50 fired, the sabot impacted one of the tanks causing it to shutter and grind to a halt. Despite the loss of one of their tanks, the Eruseans held formation and picked up speed. They were disciplined, Keen would give them that as he ordered Ford to crest the berm.
"Drive up, Fire and Adjust!"
Just as Ford brought the 70-ton beast to a stop, Shaw pulled the trigger. "On the way!" The round impacted center mass, reducing yet another Erusean tank to a burning wreck. "Target!"
"Driver back, designate Tank!"
The turret slewed on another T-72 as the Abrams slipped back into its battle position just as it fired back at them. A sabot round whizzed overhead causing Keen to jerk his head around and watch the round bury itself into the earth behind them.
Yanovich cursed the Erusean tank as he slammed a sabot round into the breach. "Up!"
"Identified, 1,500!"
"Shoot that son of a bitch!" Keen cursed as his tank once came up the berm.
"On the way!" The tank shook as the gun recoiled and another T-72 was dispatched. "Target!"
There was no doubt that the Erusean now knew where Bravo company was as their return fire became more accurate. 125mm tank shells and 30mm cannon rounds landed around and behind the Osean armor. The Eruseans were met in kind by 120mm sabot rounds and the occasional mortar rounds called in by the Company's fisters. A second 125 round slammed into the turret of 3-1, the force of the impact rocked the tank causing Shaw to smack his head against the CDU then real forward into the gunsight.
"Shaw!" Yanovich yelled, reaching for his gunner.
Shaw slapped his hand away and glared at him through broken glasses, blood dripping from his nose. "The fuck are you doing! Arm the damn gun!"
Yanovich grinned and armed the gun. Shaw brought his reticle to bear on the perceived culprit and lazed the target. "On the way!"
The gun recoiled and Ford brought the tank back down the berm. Through the still smoking propellant and gas, Shaw watched as the Erusean tank was engulfed in flames as what remained of the crew bailed out.
"Fuck you!"
The Erusean attack was relentless, when one tank was hit another took its place. But for all their tenacity the Erusean attack was to fail as burning T-72s and BMPs littered the valley below and black smoke filled the sky.
Once more cannon fire died away and an eerie silence overtook the valley. In the distance, the sounds of battle drummed on as their brothers in arms fought valiantly to hold the line. Shaw took off his CVC and ran a hand through his short brown hair. He leaned back in his seat and looked down at the spent aft caps, five had been expended each marking a destroyed tank, bringing the day's total to six tanks and two BMPs.
As Keen sent up the platoon battle damage assessment, Yanovich plugged his phone into the MCS, and "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" began to play over the intercom. For a moment a sense of normalcy had returned to the crew of 31. But it was not to last as Keen started to get information over the net.
"Fuck, Bravo Six, Blue one say again your last?" There was a pause before Keen yelled and punched the CDU. "DAMN IT!"
Shaw quickly dawned his CVC and keyed the push to talk. " What's going on Sir?"
Keen trembled in his seat, fists clenched. "You been monitoring the net?"
Shaw shook his head.
"2-4 took a hit, Sergeant Milano was wounded." Keen paused and laid a hand on Shaw's shoulder. "I'm sorry Shaw, Barnet didn't make it."
Shaw was speechless, like Yanovich, Corporal Shane Barnet had gone to basic with him. The three of them had come up together in the Army and were never far apart. Like many in the unit, Barnet was as close as one got to family in the military. Upon hearing the news Yanovich whipped his head around and bore an expression of disbelief.
"What, how?"
Keen shook his head. "He was pulling Milano from the tank when he caught a burst of MG fire, tore straight through the flak vest."
"Erusean bastards." Yanovich cursed between clenched teeth.
"So where do we go from here?"
Keen messed with the JCR before replying. "CO is meeting with the Battalion Commander, we'll know from there."
3-6 Infantry TOC
18:25
Holland's Humvee rolled into the Battalion operation center around 18:00. As the Humvee came to a stop he pushed open the heavy steel door and looked around. Mortar craters and shrapnel marks on vehicles indicated that Eruseans hadn't been blind firing as he had assumed. He slammed the door to his truck and told his driver to go find some hot chow. Holland slung his carbine over his shoulder and walked towards the battalion TOC, an olive drab tent flanked by several M1068 command vehicles.
The captain pushed his way through the tent flaps and was greeted by cool air from the AC unit. A welcome change from the humid interior of the Abrams. His presence was immediately noticed by Lt Colonel Stuart, 3-6 battalion commander. The Field Grade officer looked away from the battle map and approached Holland.
"Your boys did a hell of a job out there Holland. You stop a motorized battalion in their tracks."
Holland's face betrayed no emotion. "Yes sir, unfortunately, we lost a man in the fighting."
Stuart cocked an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Corporal Barnet, Erusean machine gun got him while trying to casevac his TC."
"I'm sorry to hear, when we are out of this mess I'll put him in for a commendation. Something for his family. However, we have more pressing matters." Stuart motioned Holland over to the battle map. "4-1 broke on our right and to our left the Erusean overran the Central Usean Defence Force on our right. We can't sustain the position so Brigade is pulling us out."
"Pulling out? Where?"
Stuart shook his head. "Somewhere in the vicinity of the Schofield Plateau, but the Erusean are likely to pursue." He paused to look away from the map and over at Holland. "You are not going to like this Holland, but I'm divesting your company."
Holland immediately moved to interject. "Sir-"
Stuart raised a hand to silence the company commander. "I don't want to hear it, Holland, Alpha, and Charlie company sustained over 30 percent casualties and my Bravo company is in shambles. Now it won't take long for the Eruseans to wise up and learn we got the hell out of dodge. But once they find out they'll pursue us with everything they've got." Holland followed the Lieutenant Colonel through the TOC as he stopped to check several laptops. "If they hit us while en route we'll be destroyed. Now I've never put much stock on tanks, but by God, I need your boys now if we're to make it out of this mess alive."
"Sir, I get it. You're an infantry officer, you know how to maneuver Strykers. But splitting up my company and spreading my platoons throughout your formation will change nothing if the Erusean commander decides to pursue!"
By now Stuart was getting frustrated. "Well Captain, since you're an expert in armor maneuvers, how do you believe I should distribute MY forces?"
Stuart's voice was saturated with sarcasm, but that didn't stop Holland. "Let us take up the rear."
"What?"
Holland cleared his throat. "Put your Gun Systems forward and run like hell, my company will provide rear security while bounding back."
"That's crazy, you realize that if you are decisively engaged I won't be able to turn the formation around to help you."
Holland held the Colonel's gaze and nodded. "We won't stay in position long enough for that to happen. By the time the enemy brings their armor to the front we'll be long gone."
"Then make it happen Holland, with some luck we might just make it out of this mess."
LOG SITE
19:00
It was just past 19 hundred when 31 pulled into the battalion log site and the sun had already begun to set behind the hills. Scattered between trees and foliage, several fuel trucks stood by awaiting their thirsty patrons. As 31 lurched to a halt, Shaw dismounted through the TC's hatch and was getting ready to grab a fuel hose when a hand caught his shoulder. Behind him, Keen held his shoulder and looked at him with tired eyes.
"Go see a medic."
Shaw brushed his LT off and grabbed the fuel nozzle. "I'm fine."
"The hell you are," Keen snatched the hose from his gunner. "Your nose hasn't stopped bleeding and you've been out of it since we left the line."
"A little bloody-"
"Stop fuckin' arguing and go get yourself checked out!"
Taken aback by the Lieutenant's sudden snap, Shaw nodded and dismounted the tank. He trudged through the deep mud towards a camouflage netting covered 113 with a red cross on the side. Shaw knocked on the side of the track to get the attention of one of the medics currently treating a casualty. The medic, a specialist with unkempt blond hair looked over his shoulder.
"Hey Doc, Ell-tee wanted me to get my nose checked out."
Specialist Morgan nodded. "Take a seat, let me finish up with Sergeant Milano then I'll get to you."
The gunner took a seat on one of the litters lining the inside of the 113, he looked over at Milano who was getting a gauze bandage wrapped around his head.
"I'm sorry about Barnett S'arnt, he didn't deserve to go out like that."
The weathered Sergeant First Class cast a glance at Shaw. "Damn idiot should have stayed in the tank, god only knows what possessed him to try and pull my ass out."
"So what's happening to 2-4?"
"McCloud is packing up Barnett's personal items to be sent home to Oured, he'll be gunning for me now until we get a replacement." Milano replied as Doc tied off the bandage.
"You're good to go S'arnt." Morgan said getting out of the NCO's way.
Milano stood up and made his way down the ramp of the 113. "Stay safe out there Shaw."
"You too S'arnt."
With the Senior NCO out of the way, Doc Morgan moved to treat Shaw's broken nose.
"And you? How are you fairing?" Morgan asked as he rummaged through a CLS for a splint.
"Hmm?"
"You and Yano went to basic with Barnett, y'all always seemed close."
The gunner titled his head back as the medic applied the splint to his nose. "It's war, I knew we'd take losses but." Shaw cut his sentence short.
"Just not this early huh." Doc Morgan finished applying the splint and wiped his hands on his trousers. "There, good as new."
"Thanks, Doc." Giving Morgan a firm handshake he started down the ramp of the medic track before Morgan called after him.
"Shaw, keep your head in the fight brother. Your crew needs you now more than ever."
Shaw raised a dismissive hand and walked off. "Take care of yourself Doc."
Fighting his way through clay and mud, Shaw made his way back to 3-1 which had now pulled out of the fuel line and sat idle in a tree line. With after operations PMCS done, and the tank topped off on fuel there was nothing for the crew to do but wait. Ford sat cross-legged on the front slope while Yanovich leaned against the armored skirts staring off into space. Shaw leaned against the front slope, undid the top of his NOMEX coveralls, and tied it off against his waist. He rummaged through his pockets and produced a half-crushed pack of Camels and his zippo. Lighting one up, he clacked his zippo closed before offering the pack to his driver.
Ford shook his head. "No thanks S'arnt, 'preciate it though."
Shaw shrugged before moving along to Yanovich. "Yano, you want one?" The loader continued to stare off into space, Shaw tried again to get his friend's attention. "Yano? Hey Pete!"
Yanovich jumped as Shaw tapped him on the shoulder. "Huh?"
"You wanna smoke dawg?" Shaw asked, holding out the pack.
"Nah man I'm good."
The gunner shoved the cigarettes back into his pocket before taking a drag. "You good man?"
"Fine, just tired is all."
Shaw raised a brow, he knew something was off but knowing Yanovich it was best just to leave him be. "Aight well get some rest then bro, don't know when we're rolling out next."
Erusean 25th Armor Division TOC
23:30
General Labarth quickly struck a match and lit the end of his cigar. Once a substantial ember began to burn, he started looking over a grid map tracking the ongoing battle. His First Brigade was able to break the Central Usean forces on the left, opening up the road to Chopingburg. Meanwhile, a combined force of armor and infantry making up his Third Brigade had routed the Osean infantry battalions holding the roads towards Los Canos. Much to his surprise however, his Second Brigade that concentrated most of his armor had failed to break a single battalion holding the center.
It was of little concern as his division was now poised to encircle them, forcing them to either abandon the position or die holding it. What was of concern however was the Osean cavalry brigade who had not yet been accounted for. The armor that the Osean army had fielded today had done significant damage to his own tanks. With the Osean Fifth Armor now rendered combat ineffective, the cavalry was now the only opposing force that threatened his advance.
"General."
Labarth looked away from the map and up at his division intelligence officer.
"Tell me you found that missing brigade." Labarth gruffed.
The intel officer shook his head. "They're still in the wind, Sir."
The General stepped away from the table and puffed on his cigar. "What is it then?"
The intel officer swallowed the lump in his throat. "ISR report from Second Brigade, the Osean forces guarding the highlands have abandoned their defensive line."
Labarth leaned against the table once more looking over the map, cigar clenched between his teeth. "Where are they now?"
"UAVs pick them up heading southeast, they could be making a run for Bay City," The intel officer jabbed his finger at the city. "Or running east for-"
"The Schofield Plateau." Labarth interrupted taking a drag of his cigar. "Osea wouldn't dare to try and reinforce from Axel Bay, not after we took the Lighthouse." He traced his finger along a major highway heading east. "They'll withdraw east to Schofield. The Yinshi river is a natural barrier and once they dig in on the plateau no amount of armor and artillery will root them out."
The Intel Officer came to the same conclusion and nodded. "Your orders, Sir?"
Labarth tapped his fingers against the table, taking in every detail on the map. "Well, we caught them too late to encircle them." He muttered to himself. "Send a WARNO to Third Brigade, once they are resupplied, have them pursue the Oseans, and be quick about it."
With a sharp salute, the Intel Officer turned on his heels to execute his commander's vision. In the waning hours of the first day, the Erusean position in the war was dire. They had to destroy the retreating Osean forces en route, and with that their will to fight. The alternative was to lose the war.