Mobile Suit Gundam: The Road to Alexandria
Chapter 6
"Lead, this is Three. Got a visual on that Zeek base."
"I copy, Three," replied Breaker leader, shifting in his seat to get a better look at the facility laid out before him. "Okay, Breaker flight. Concentrate mostly on the hardened buildings, let the bombers take care of those oil fields. Keep a watch for ground fire, looks like we got some AA guns, maybe 88's, and a few missile batteries."
"What about enemy mobile suits?" came the worried voice of Breaker Four.
"I don't see any yet," Three replied. He had the sharpest eyes in the squadron, and thus usually found himself designated the squadron spotter.
Keep alert. These are the same bastards who hit Tataouine a month ago, Lead warned everybody. So they've definitely got MS down there somewhere. Don't worry about destroying everything, just hit 'em hard and fast and peel out. I'd rather we get out alive. Remember, we're just here to soften them up.
The five Fly Manta fighter-bombers peeled away from the main force of Deproggs and their escorts, diving toward the Zeon base. Almost immediately, anti-aircraft fire filled the air as crews rushed to the 88mm guns scattered around the base's perimeter.
The pilots had little problem evading the fire after all, they were experienced Odessa veterans and had survived the horrific amount of flak thrown up at them then. The Zeon gun crews had never fired them in combat before. Their 88's had been set up after the Federation had been driven out of North Africa and the base had been established. They had test fired them, shot down a few drones for practice, but had never had to fire them at fast-moving aircraft that were firing back.
The Fly Mantas concentrated their fire on the defenses first. They opened fire on the guns with their cannon, shredding the emplacements. Men screamed as the heavy rounds tore through them and touched off ammunition. Explosion dotted the camp, incinerating the gun crews.
Holliday burst out of his tent, looking up as a Fly Manta tore past, strafing the motor pool. He flinched, and snarled in anger as it sent dust washing over him and climbed back into the sky.
"Hey, you're confined to-" one of the two soldiers, one of Moore's personal guard, standing guard out side the tent began to say. Holliday spun around and unloaded a thundering right fist into the man's jaw. He grabbed the man's rifle with his left hand, and turned to the second guard, whom Holliday knew was not one of Moore's private cadre. "Corporal, I am breaking my confinement in the face of this emergency," he told the nervous soldier. "If this man," he motioned to the guard sprawled on the ground who was nursing his injured jaw, "so much as tries to stop me, you are under orders to shoot him. Understood?"
"Y-yes s-sir!" the soldier managed to get out. He threw a look at the other guard and bit his lip. "W-where are you going, Captain?"
"To try and stop those idiots!" Holliday shouted as he ran toward the mobile suit hangar.
Holliday ran. He ran harder than he'd ever run in his life, ignoring the wail of the air raid siren around him, ignoring the explosions that tore through the base as the Fly Mantas switched over to their triple missile launchers. Where the hell are the Zakus? he wondered. They had been out on alert just hours before, they would have spotted these Federal bastards and shot them down quickly.
An explosion nearby blew him off his feet. Holliday was hurtled through the air and came down hard a few feet away from the MS bunker. Ears ringing, he staggered to his feet and looked up. The bunker had taken some minor damage, but it was sturdy and built to withstand conventional attacks of this nature. One of the base's few remaining AA guns was atop it, spitting tracers into the evening sky.
Clutching his head, Holliday stumbled into the bunker, where a few of the Zakus were being prepared for combat. All of the others were lined up in their maintenance bays, waiting for pilots.
"What the hell is going on here? Holliday demanded angrily Why the f*** aren't there any units on combat alert?"
"Captain!" Cusik yelled, startled by Holliday's sudden appearance. "Major Moore recalled us for outfitting for that dumb Goddamn Algiers plan, sir! Are you all right?"
"Just a little shaken, though Moore's probably going to hang me for breaking confinement." He looked around at the pilots and ground crew, who stood there staring at him. "What the hell are you waiting for? Get those Zakus moving before the Federal f***ing Air Force blows up the bunker! Move, people, move!"
The soldiers scattered, dashing toward their respective mobile suits. Holliday, dashing toward his Zaku, yelled up to Mercer, who was the first to start moving out, "Where's the Major?"
"Damned if I know, sir," Mercer's voice boomed over the Zaku's external speakers. His Zaku continued advancing, footsteps echoing through the hangar. Holliday continued moving toward his own Zaku, when the sound of gunfire erupted from the mouth of the hangar.
Turning, he saw Mercer pouring fire toward the Fly Mantas with his M120A machine gun. The Federal planes responded by firing a volley of missile at him. Unable to maneuver quickly in the confines of the hangar's doorway, Mercer took the hits square in the Zaku's torso. The explosions washed over him, knocking mechanics and pilots from their feet those who didn't dive for cover. Thick, black smoke was pouring out of the Zaku as it dropped to one knee and sat there, immobile.
Holliday swore loudly as he made it to his Zaku. Thankfully, someone in the ground crew was uncannily foresighted; the Zaku was warmed up and ready to go. Grateful for that, but still angry at Mercer's apparent death, Holliday swung into the cockpit and strapped himself in. The hatch was still closing as he got the Zaku under way.
At the hangar entrance, he laid his Zaku's left hand on the shattered hulk of Mercer's mobile suit. "Mercer, Mercer? You still alive?" he asked over the skin-to-skin com. No response. "Damn. Sorry Mercer, but you're the best way to get outside alive." Holliday lifted Mercer's Zaku up with his own unit's left arm, and began to shove it out the door ahead of him. The shriek of metal on metal sounded as the two MS slowly inched to the outside.
"Hey, we've got another Zaku coming out of the bunker," Breaker Two reported in. "Hey, it's that same one we already nailed, tough little SOB. I'm gonna strafe him and make certain that pilot's learned his lesson."
Breaker Two's craft swept back around over the airfield he'd just shot up, making for the hardened Zaku bunker again. He opened up on it with the machine guns, shells raking the chest area. But it continued moving forward.
"What in the-" Breaker Two muttered, trailing off as the Zaku slumped to the ground, revealing a second, undamaged mobile suit behind it. Panic set in, and he yanked back on his stick. The Fly Manta began to climb, but the twin Vulcan cannons mounted on the Desert Zaku opened up, the 60mm shells ripping through the plane.
The Fly Manta disintegrated around the pilot, scattering parts across the dusty ground. Then the fuel ignited, turning what was left of the aircraft into a brief conflagration.
The Zaku squads spread out and quickly laid down a suppression fire that all but ended the Federal air raid on the base itself. Most of the Fly Mantas fell victim to the machine gun fire the Zakus delivered; one was taken down by one of the few IR missile batteries than had been set up around the base's perimeter.
The real work was cleaning up the Deprogg bombers that had gone for the oil fields. Defenses were scattered even further out there, so very few of the bombers had been shot down. And before they'd escaped they had caused incredible damage to the fields. Wells burned out of control, towers of flame hundreds of feet high. Under the direction of what was left of the engineering corps, the Zaku teams worked through the night to cap what fires they could; in many cases it was impossible. The bombs had torn deep into the ground, destroying the drilling and pumping equipment itself. Some were smothered with tons of sand and rock dumped on top of them. Others burned underground, sucking air from who knew where to feed themselves. The rest were completely uncontrollable, and so they were left to burn themselves out, sometime in the future.
Morning found a cloud of thick, oily black smoke hanging over the base as the Zakus returned, battered and blackened from their long night's work. They made their way solemnly to the hangar, maneuvering through the wreckage from the air raid. Around their feet, soldiers dashed this way and that, already cleaning up the destruction.
Holliday climbed out of his Zaku to find Lieutenant King waiting for him. "How bad is it out in the fields?" the weary-looking officer asked him.
"Total loss, David," Holliday replied, running a hand through his hair. He leaned up against the catwalk railing. "Whatever rigs and pumps they didn't bomb are useless they nailed the main pipeline in several places. Not that we have anywhere to ship it, anyway. The engineering corps was devastated, they took out the monitoring center and everyone in it. Hill's been killed."
"Damn. I've already dispatched teams to collect the bodies, the medical staff is working overtime on the wounded. I've seen at least two dozen, if not more, dead and God knows how many wounded." King sighed and removed his cap. Staring down into it, he continued, "I lost four tanks, a few others took some minor damage. Bastards got most of the crash-bangs and all but one of the IR missile batteries. Your Zakus are the only air defense we have left."
"Yeah, and a bloody good job they did as well. I can't believe they were all being outfitted for a mission, and not one, not bloody damn one of them was on patrol. There's a damned reason I set up that system," Holliday fumed. "What about other damage to the base?"
Scratching his head, King thought for a moment. "The radio tent survived, miraculously. Same with the hangar bunkers. Airfield and the tower are both shot to hell, completely unusable. The motor pool took some damage, but most of the vehicles are intact. Same with the barracks. Command tent took a bomb in it, though."
"Anyone seen that imbecile Moore? Or did he go up with the command tent?"
"I don't think he did, though most of his personal staff were killed."
"What about Maria?" Though Holliday had left this until last, King could tell it was his comrade's most pressing concern.
"Relax, Sam. She's fine. I last saw her helping out with the triage."
"Thank God. I'm going to go find her. If you see the Major, report to me immediately. Come up with some excuse for keeping him in one place. He and I have to have a discussion."
Holliday found Maria right where King had said she was, helping the medics triage what wounded were left. Her hair was disheveled, there were circles under her eyes, and there was blood on her blouse thankfully, Holliday noted, hot hers but she seemed otherwise unharmed. Upon seeing him, she rose and dashed toward him, throwing her arms around him.
Holliday kissed her gently and said, "Thank God you're okay."
"I could say the same about you. One way or another, I was almost certain you would be dead this morning, she told him sadly. How did you-"
"I disarmed one of the guards and threatened him if he didn't let me go. I wasn't about to sit in my tent and let the Federation blow the camp up around me. Of course, Moore is going to blow his top over this. Not that I care any more. If I hadn't promised you not to kill him, I would shoot him on site for leaving the base defenseless. Where is he, anyway?"
"Franklin vanished when the attack started. I thought he was going to organize the defenses."
"Well, he didn't. His little desire for revenge left us almost defenseless. The damage was worse than it should have been. I'm going to get him relieved of command." Holliday paused. "He knows about us, Maria. He knows everything."
"I don't care," she told him, laying her head against his chest. "He can't stop it; he can't hurt me any more. I'll not be his harlot any more."
Smiling, Holliday told her, "I knew you were strong, Maria. If I find him, I'll break the news to him. Personally, I hope it breaks him. I must go. I've got a thousand things to do, I have to contact Division and see what they want us to do. I imagine we'll be ordered to abandon the position, so you might want to begin packing. He kissed her again and walked off, leaving her watching after him, longingly."
Stalking across the compound, Holliday made right for the communications tent, which had miraculously survived the raid. If his hunch was correct, the ground assault would follow shortly, and Holliday had no intention of being around when it arrived, not in the state the base was in now. He intended to make that perfectly clear to his superiors at Divisional Command at Kilimanjaro.
Upon entering the tent, he encountered Major Franklin Moore, castigating one of the radio operators for some failure or another. Noticing Holliday's arrival, the Major turned to face him. His usually immaculate uniform was ripped and dirty, his face was red with rage.
"What are you doing here? You're under confinement for-" That was as far as he got, for without warning, Holliday hauled back and unloaded the same thundering right he'd dropped the guard with earlier to Moore's jaw. The Major spun once and fell to the ground, cracking his head on the wooden table the radio operator sat at.
"Cowardice in the face of the enemy?" Holliday declared, his face livid. "That's the pot calling the bloody kettle black, isn't it Major? Where the hell were you when the rest of us were fighting off the Federation attack? And because of your stupid, pointless quest for personal glory, good men are dead! You have constantly undermined the purpose of this base to advance your own goals by putting good men real soldiers at risk. If you hadn't withdrawn the patrols I set up we might have had advance warning of this raid and those dead men out there might still be alive!"
Holliday stepped forward, a menacing look on his face. Moore shielded his face from any further abuse, but Holliday instead gripped the Major's rank mantle and hauled him to his feet. "Sergeant!" Holliday shouted to the senior-most of the shocked radio operators. "You are witness. I am declaring Major Moore unfit for command and relieving him of his position."
"T-this is mutiny!" Moore protested.
"Well, I would know something about that, wouldn't I?" Holliday released his grip and let Moore fall back to the ground. Turning back toward the operators, the Captain snapped, "Get me Division on the horn, ASAP. We need to get real orders on how to handle this mess." When they stood there, starting at him blankly, Holliday barked, "What are you waiting for! Do it!"
Moore propped himself up, rubbing his jaw with one hand. His eyes glazed over murderously. He was Franklin Moore! There was no way he would let this two-time traitor usurp his power and position. His right hand strayed toward the butt of the pistol he wore at his belt, only to have Holliday's booted foot slam down on top of it.
As Moore howled in pain, Holliday bent down and hissed at him, "Do you really think I would be that stupid, Major? You're nothing. A hollow shell of a man. You don't even have a mistress any more to profess false endearments for you." At this, Moore looked up, venom flashing through his eyes. "That's right," Holliday whispered. "You can't touch her any more. I told you she wasn't your property, and she's free now. You try anything with Maria, I will make certain you are never again able to do so. I'll spare you the humiliation of confinement but don't take that as an indication of your freedom."
Holliday removed the weapon from Moore's holster and stuck it in his belt. That done, he turned back toward the radio operators.
The remaining senior officers and MS crew met in the Zaku bunker the only place suitable for holding a meeting of this nature now that the command tent had been destroyed. Someone had found a rough substitute for a bulletin board and had propped it up against the back wall of the bunker. Holliday had affixed a rather large map of Northern Africa to it, with lines and markings made on it in red ink.
Moore was present for the meeting; Cusik sat near him with an even more sour than usual expression on his face, absently stroking the barrel of the submachine gun he had casually trained on the Major. Moore's expression was verging on outraged, but the presence of the gun kept him from showing his anger.
Everyone present looked drawn and tired. None had gotten any rest after the attack the night before cleaning up the damage had taken precedence. Chief among these was Holliday, standing next to the map with a pointer.
"I'll be brief," he said. "I talked with General Bitter, our Divisional commander. He told me that all of Northwestern Africa has been hit by the Federation. Dakar fell first, we haven't heard any news from the Pink Panther unit, or Rommel's units to the west. Some evacuation has been started at Kilimanjaro and at Aden in the Middle East, though the General himself wants to hold out as long as possible."
"Now, we're unable to make it to either of those locations; the Feds have swept southward of us from Dakar. At least, that's what the General's intelligence has to report. At any rate, it's several thousand kilometers of rather impassable desert between us and those locations. The General, however, has provided us with an alternate point to fall back to: Alexandria."
Holliday paused to let the news sink in. He glanced around, most of the men seemed to accept this outright; only Moore, naturally, seemed not to like it. Holliday continued. "We'll stay inland for the first part of the journey it's mostly terrain like it is here; desert and scrub, higher plateaus and the like. Then, once we've passed Tataouine and have entered Libya, we'll follow along fairly close to the coastline. That's the best route to the Marsa Al Burayqah gap. We have to go through there, otherwise it's going to be trudging through salt marshes. The real downside to this is we're going to be hemmed in by salt flats further south once we're past it. That means we're going to be coming close to Tobruk."
There was an uneasy murmur through the group. Many of the men started to look uneasy.
"Look, I know that's the largest Federation base in that part of Africa, and that they've probably reinforced it by now. But that's the only way we can go without getting hit by the full effects of a winter in the desert. I'm certain we've all heard nasty things about it but it's either that or go near the Federation. At least against them, we have a fighting chance."
A noise of general agreement came from the men.
Holliday put the pointer down. "I know we're all tired, but we've got to evacuate as quickly as we can. Take what we need, leave the heavier equipment behind. That includes Mercer's Zaku. Chief Biggs?"
"Sir?" a stocky man in grease-stained mechanics overalls spoke up.
"Salvage what you can from it. Load up the Samsons with whatever ammunition the mobile suits can't carry. The most important things beyond the men are water, food, fuel, and ammunition. Pack as much as you can into the trucks and jeeps men who aren't wounded can ride on the outside. It will be brutal, but it's the best we can do."
Chapter 6 Notes:
Crash-Bangs: nickname for 88mm field howitzers, also used for AA purposes. 88mm was, IIRC, the standard caliber for German flak batteries in WWII. The 88's also made hash of British tanks in the first phases of the African campaign.
Kilimanjaro: the Mountain in East Africa. This is used as a base by the Titans in Zeta, it's also very close to General Bitter's Kimberlaide base from 0083. The Gundam RPG Sourcebook has actually identified it as an evacuation point for terrestrial forces, so it's proximity to Kimberlaide suggests that Bitter fell back after the bulk of the evacuations to continue his campaign against the Federation. Very special thanks to Mark Simmons for giving me some of the particulars on this, and the Aden, Yemen evacuation location.
Rommel: No, not the German Afrika Korps commander, but Desert Rommel Zeon officer who is still fighting a guerrilla war in West Africa in ZZ. He shows up in Gihren's Greed, too. I'm assuming his forces were based in and around Dakar.
The Marsa Al Burayqah gap: a real place on the Gulf of Sidra in Libya. The Germans had to smash through here on their way to Tobruk in the early stages of the African campaign.
Trioknight's reading list: Speaking of Rommel, try Rommel's War in Africa by Wolf Heckmann. A very good recounting of the Africa campaign from both sides of the war, but focusing primarily on Rommel. A little judgmental of the man at times, but overall a very good book.