Battle Earth I

Chapter 6

Major Taylor sat in his chair beside the senior officers on base. General White had just outlined the current situation. Spain and France had been invaded. Spain had taken the brunt of the attack, France had substantially more time to prepare and with a far greater number of operational EUA forces at hand. He had not heard news of Captain Jones, but he knew that he’d be on the front line.

“Spain has already lost fifty kilometres of its western coast. Early reports from France show that although the initial attacks were repulsed, they were at a dear price. The Americas have so far been lucky in avoiding invasion, but we cannot stay out of this conflict. The UEN forces are already involved in heavy fighting, we have a responsibility to act.”

“What are the President’s orders?” asked Smith.

“The President would avoid war at any cost as we well know. However, this is not like any war this planet has ever known. Whoever these hostile forces are, it is clear that they only want two things, our lands and our lives,” said White.

“We are at war, our friends around the world are dying as we talk, what are we prepared to do about it?” asked Taylor.

“I will remind you, Major, that you are here under an advisory capacity only,” said General White.

“Fine, Sir, then I advise an immediate strike against the alien ship, island, whatever the damn thing is.”

“Quite right, Major. The time has come to act. We have already lost men in this war. The President, under the advisement of the Chiefs of Staff, has passed on operational decisions to us, as well as given me control of the Nuclear arsenal,” General White answered him.

General Smith turned in shock.

“Nuclear?”

“This new enemy is gaining a substantial foothold in Europe, they have shown themselves to be a formidable enemy which could engulf the world if we do nothing. I am not asking for a vote here, I am informing you of my decision. I am authorising an immediate nuclear strike against the alien island, now designated as Tartaros, a hell that no man would wish to see.”

The General tapped a few buttons on his control pad and brought up a map of the world, Tartaros added in the Atlantic. The vast island had expanded to almost fifteen thousand kilometres in diameter. It was a shocking sight every time they had to look at it. The chilling image could only give a small taste of what it would be like to witness the horrifying development with one’s own eyes.

“Six of our nuclear depots are prepping for launch as we speak. The initial attack will contain twelve missiles launched from these six bases.”

“What are our projections for damage to this Tartaros?” asked General Richards.

“Honestly at this stage, we have no idea. We simply cannot sit by and watch these bastards continue unchecked. Our nuclear arsenal allows us to strike hard and fast, with maximum coverage. Obviously this Tartaros is now the size of many large countries. We have indicators of the best targets. This will be a test run. If it works, it will be immediately followed with everything we’ve got.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“We have to try, gentlemen. If for some reason a nuclear strike has no significant impact, then we’ll change tactics, improvise and overcome.”

“What about ground troops?” asked Taylor.

“At this stage every soldier in the country is on alert and ready to fight. How we use our forces will depend on the outcome of this strike,” White answered.

“What about Europe? It’s taking a beating!” Richards asked him.

“I am told that forces are being drawn from all across the continent to fight in France and Spain, for now they’ll have to manage. Now, launch is in five minutes, with impact approximately fifteen minutes after.”

“Jesus Christ, are we really doing this?” asked Smith.

“You’re damn right we are. People are dying every minute fighting against these bastards, it’s time to give a little back!” shouted White.

The room went silent as they all sat watching the huge screen, captivated by the launch countdowns next to each nuclear depot. The idea of using nuclear weapons was fearful for all of them. There had only been a handful of cases where they had been used previously in Earth’s history, and the results were always terrifying. The President called them a necessary evil but the few Generals who didn’t support his view were starting to come around.

The next twenty minutes were almost silent, with the very least of communication. The high ranking officers shuffled in their chairs, drank water to clear their dry throats and continued to watch the screen as the trails of the missiles sped across the sea. None of them ever thought that they would see the use of such weapons in their lifetimes, let alone to be the ones launching them.

General White pressed a few buttons on his control pad and the huge screen split to show several video feeds of the enemy island. The top left of the monitor continued to project the map showing the progress of the missiles. The group watched with baited breath, knowing that the President and the joint chiefs would be doing the same.

The nuclear weapon was still the most formidable weapon in the arsenal of Earth troops. With no major wars for so long, there had been few significant advancements made in weapons of war. Many believed no one wished to consider the development of a weapon that could destroy more than just a city. Other governments were unable to continue with such massive spending into weapons of mass destruction when they had plenty good enough ones already.

“What the hell is that?” asked Smith.

Taylor squinted to look at what they were seeing, realising quickly what it was. Dozens of aircraft were lifting off from one section of the enemy vessel, obscured by their scenery blending camouflage.

“Enemy ships, Sir, just as attacked the Moon colony,” said Taylor.

“What are they doing, Major?” asked White.

“I’d assume they are intercepting our nukes.”

White twisted around quickly and looked at the Major with a piercing glance.

“What? You think they intend to shoot our weapons down?”

“Of course, Sir. You think we are the only ones with scanners? Everything we have seen so far shows us that these aliens are significantly more advanced than us. What is maybe more of a concern is, if we have nukes, what have they got?”

The room went quiet again as they all stared intently at the screens. The missiles were just minutes away from impact. The officers could almost feel the sense of victory they so desperately wanted, but knew it was beyond their grasp. They’d all come to realise that the mission was already a failure, but they still held onto the hope that it would succeed.

The Generals watched in despair and horror as energy pulses were fired from the vessels, striking the nuclear missiles as they were fifty kilometres from the alien island. A number of the enemy craft were obliterated by the huge nuclear blasts, but it was a small loss for them. Many of the camera feeds went blank as the blasts destroyed the source of the signals.

General White shook his head, his face pale and distraught. The others watched the blank screens which displayed only static. The satellite signals showed Tartaros, it was unscathed by the incident.

“My, God,” said Richards.

“We only sent twelve, maybe with a larger spread they wouldn’t be able to catch them all?” asked Smith.

General White looked up, he was struggling to speak, and for the first time in his career, Taylor saw fear in the great leader’s eyes.

“Let’s see this for what it is. Those bastards have the defensive technology to stop a missile strike. Let’s move past it and see what we can do.”

Taylor still stared at the display screen of the world, wondering what they could do against such an enemy. His gaze panned to Europe and he began to wonder if his friend Charlie was still alive.

“Fall back! Go, go, go!” shouted Jones.

Light pulses zipped past their heads as the metal clad beasts and their monstrous armoured vehicles rolled through the streets. The defences to the south of Brest had fallen into disarray as the invaders were punching huge holes in their line. The French armour still remained in the city but were fighting a brutal battle of attrition.

Captain Jones looked around to see the survivors of their battalion running for their lives, he could just make out the fearful outline of the Mech soldiers stomping towards them in the distance and firing unrelentingly into the fleeing troops. Major Chandra rushed up to Jones with blood hardened on her face, it wasn’t clear if it was hers, but Jones was glad she was still in command.

“What are you orders, Major?” shouted Jones.

“We can’t hold this area, get to the vehicles and mount up, we’re heading for Brest! If we can rendezvous with the 2 ^ nd Armoured and make use of the cover of the city, we might just have a chance!”

Jones nodded and turned to relay the commands to his men. Every instinct made the Captain wish they were heading east towards the rest of their forces at Rennes. Despite this, he realised both the importance of protecting the civilian population and also of holding ground. If the invaders could get a hold on the mainland they would gain a major advantage.

None of the men wanted to accept the fact that they were at war, but it was the new reality of their lives. Jones sent the command out across the radios and they began to run for the vehicles. They left many dead soldiers in their wake, carrying all the wounded they could.

Arriving at the vehicles, Jones could see that half of his company was already loaded up, many were wounded, there were not many left to load up. At a quick glance he estimated the losses to be thirty percent of the company, with many others being walking wounded. He stood up on his RDV and looked back towards the beaches now out of view. Smoke still bellowed from the wrecks there. They were joined with a number of fires on trees and foliage that had ignited from the high heat energy pulses of the enemy.

“Get a fucking shift on!” he shouted.

The last men were being pulled aboard the trucks. He could see that the company was mentally exhausted. Their resolve and morale had taken a heavy blow and they were already moving like defeated men. Overcoming this would be Jones’ next big task, but for now, survival was the only priority.

“Move out!”

His vehicle moved forward as his batman enthusiastically raced ahead. No one among them desired to stay in that spot for a second longer. As the battalion sped north towards the city, energy pulses were fired amongst the column. Jones watched as one of the trucks was hit, the engine bay and front axle obliterated as it flipped onto its side.

Jones wanted nothing more to go back and help the soldiers, but being in full retreat he couldn’t risk slowing anyone else down. The Captain could see that Chandra had seen the incident and was already on the comms to the survivors, instructing them to make their way north through the cover of the forest. He prayed that they would make it but knew their chances were slim. Realising that their first battle was over, Jones slumped down in the seat of the RDV with a sigh. They were fighting such a fearful and advanced force.

Minutes later they were out of the range of the invaders and Jones turned his attention to their destination. Up ahead they could hear the thunderous echo of the tank guns of the French Armoured Division. Machine guns rattled off in the distance as the battle raged on. He could make out the continuous trail of civilian vehicles pouring out of the easterly flyover heading for Morlaix. All Jones could think was that it wasn’t far enough.

Their column was rolling towards an absolute war zone, and the Captain knew exactly how on edge his troops were at that moment. They were one of the best trained fighting forces in the world, but the prospect of going from one defeat into a second battle in the same day was morale crushing. Sadly, he knew that there was no choice. Troops would be amassing in Rennes, but it would take time, for now, they were it.

Dust and smoke poured from locations across the old coastal city as they rolled into the urban outskirts. All around them were civilians desperately trying to load their vehicles and leave. Many asked for help, but the only help they could provide was to fight the invading enemy. The call came out on the radio for A and B Companies to halt at the southern inner city district and take up positions.

Jones’ company followed on with Major Chandra to the city centre and the western district where the fighting raged on. The inner city was completely abandoned, few vehicles remained and no people in sight. People’s possessions and businesses’ stock were scattered across the roads. The population had run in fear of their lives, which was the sad reality of their situation. The convoy came to a halt and the Captain stepped out of the vehicle looking around the desolate city, before issuing his orders.

“Company dismount, take up defensive positions around the convoy. Command section with me.”

Lieutenant Green now commanded the Captain’s platoon. Every man in their force was trained and instructed on how to fulfil the tasks of those above them, should the need ever arise. No one had ever expected such a responsibility to fall upon them. Jones continued forwards along the line of the convoy with the few men of his command section at his side.

Up ahead they could see a number of light armoured vehicles parked up at a crossroads. The French Lieutenant Colonel Girard, leader of the 2 ^ nd Armoured Division was looking at a map projection of the city that was set up on the bonnet of one of their scout vehicles. Beside him was Major Chandra. They were in a heated discussion, but Jones could not merely stand by and watch.

“Ah, Captain, step up please. Colonel Girard, this is Captain Jones, recently promoted to Company Commander.”

“Captain. Let us get back to the battle. I brought a little under two hundred and fifty tanks to Brest. Now I command only one hundred and eighty. Our infantry battalions are having difficulty holding back the enemy, we cannot hold out for much longer.”

“What do you suggest, Colonel?” Chandra asked.

“What is the situation of the rest of the British Division?”

“My battalion is at about sixty percent strength. The armoured units we had have mostly been driven back or destroyed. We haven’t got the heavy armour of your division. Many of the units have retreated to Landerneau, we are simply unable to hold the lines.”

“Colonel, there are still a lot of civilians leaving the city via the main roads, we can neither travel on those routes, nor leave them to the mercy of our enemy,” Jones added.

The French Colonel gasped as he looked down the length of the western street. Their main battle tanks could be seen fighting at the end of it.

“Then we fight on, as long as we can, we have no choice,” said Girard.

Jones nodded in agreement. They knew that they were condemning many of their soldiers to death, but it was their duty to defend the citizens and lands with their lives.

“Have the troops you have in Landerneau set up on the main road to Morlaix and Rennes. They’ll be needed as a barrier defence to the enemy and to defend our route back.”

“You think they’ll need to use our roads?” asked Chandra.

“From what we have seen so far, yes. They have aircraft, but if they are using sea and land craft to transport troops, then they’ll need solid roads to cover distance quickly,” said Jones.

“How long can we hold out here in Brest?”

“Your guess is good as mine, Major, we’ll do what we can. Have your battalion set up on the southern perimeter of the city centre as a defensive line against anything coming up from the beaches. If any more of your division roll in, send them to me. Good luck, Major.”

Chandra nodded and saluted as she turned to leave. They both knew that they were being asked to set up against the very invading troops that had just driven them from the beaches, but at least this time they had the cover of the terrain, and the French armour at their backs.

“Where is the rest of the division, Major?” Jones asked her.

“Mostly as I told the Colonel. At least some of our troops got cut off down south and are retreating further inland, but they are mostly scattered to the wind. It appears we have about a brigade strength in Landerneau, driven back quickly from the positions north of the city, as well as just south of our original position.”

“Sounds like it’s chaos.”

“It is, Captain, we’ve never had to deal with anything like this. Command structure is in tatters, many of the key officers of the division are dead or wounded. Brigadier Dupont appears completely out of touch with the situation on the ground. All that we know for certain is that we have at least a sizeable force in this city, and we will do our best to defend it.”

“If we stay much longer, there’ll be no way out for any of us!”

“I am aware of that, Captain. As the only known forces to still hold coastal ground, we are giving the EUA time to gather forces and for the civilians to evacuate east. These are our only priorities at this time.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, and another thing. The situation is strictly between us, I won’t have the morale of our troops pulled down any further, understood?”

“Sir.”

“Captain, we’ve got a job to do, go to it!”

Jones nodded and continued on towards his company. They were spread out in the street, taking cover near the buildings. He could see the worry in their faces and the lack of faith in their equipment. The prospect of an enemy so superior in firepower, armour and strength had never even been considered a possibility for the men of the division. He could see that one of the platoon trucks had been allocated as a med station for wounded only.

Of the one hundred and fifty men in his company, only two thirds were still standing. Many of those had suffered glancing hits or concussion from near misses. He was left with a physically and mentally crippled body of soldiers. He knew without a doubt that what they needed more than anything else was to get out of the hostile zone and re-group. None of them had ever seen serious combat, they needed time to recover and re-gain some confidence.

It was even clearer to Captain Jones that they needed one thing more than anything else, bigger guns. They outnumbered the alien invaders in every fight, but didn’t have the individual firepower to bring them down.

“Let’s get this street closed down, I want dragon’s teeth on a thirty metre stretch and ABDs up now!”

The platoons leapt into action. The last fight had given them no more than a few moments to prepare, but now they could bring new hardware to the table. The men pulled out boxes from the side and under trays of the trucks. They threw them down on the roads up ahead. The devices automatically created dug out trenches with earthwork barriers and tank traps.

The technology had cost a fortune to develop and the devices they used were equally as expensive. Never in their military’s history had they had need for their usage. A platoon would take half a day to dig a trench and ground up earthworks, but these could do it in less than an hour. Better still, they could do so on any surface. Drawing anything from ground, from earth to concrete, they could create highly defensive positions in an astonishing time.

“Take up positions in the buildings! I want ARMALs on the roofs, deploy motors, set up a firing arc on this route. Let’s give these bastards hell!” Jones shouted.

Chandra stepped back to his position after barking similar orders to the company she previously commanded.

“Captain, I have ordered A and B Companies to hold the southern limits as long as they can, this will be our last line of defence for the city. If they get past us here, the armour is finished.”

“Girard having a hard time?”

“He’s just about holding, but sounds like the enemy have brought up heavier equipment that we are yet to see. He might last a while in his current positions, but only if we can hold the rear.”

Jones took the Major’s arm and led her out of earshot of any of the men.

“We are digging our own graves here, Major. The only exit point we have left is the road to Morlaix to the east and we are getting dangerously close to be encircled.”

“I am well aware of that, Captain, as is Brigadier Dupont.”

“So he intends to leave us here to die?”

“No, Captain. The brass has accepted that our armour will never leave this place, they are organising a mass airlift as we speak. They only ask that we hold out as long as possible to keep the enemy from advancing further east while they amass forces.”

Jones sighed in relief. He was beginning to lose faith in their leaders, now at least they had a plan. Their attention was quickly turned to a soaring sound of powerful engines to the west, followed by explosions in the city. They looked up to see the familiar blurred outlines of the camouflaged ships of the invaders flying by overhead. The city shook with the tremors of whatever bombs they had just dropped. They could only imagine the pounding the French armour was taking.

Taylor still sat uneasily amongst the top brass in the General’s Command Centre. He never wanted the responsibility of sitting at a desk and making decisions that affected countries. The Major was a combat soldier. His rear was going numb and his knees beginning to ache. It was a clammy and humid room, but that may have just been the tension of the situation.

For all of his gruelling combat and physical training, Mitch had never felt so fatigued as he had done in this room. He looked again at the scanner, showing the flight trajectory of thousands of aircraft.

“What’s our status?” asked Smith.

“Our boys are fifteen minutes out from target,” said White.

The next step of the U.S. forces had been a massive aerial strike. No longer had their leaders fretted about small strikes or testing the water. They had amassed more fighters and bombers for one single mission that had been seen since a world war. Where a dozen missiles failed, thousands of aircraft could succeed, or at least that was the principle.

“Do we have any idea if we can shoot their craft down?” Smith asked.

“This is a new experience for us all, we can only do the best under difficult circumstances. Our boys have faced off against these bastards. Major Taylor was able to bring down their soldiers and they aren’t invulnerable. We’ll keep hitting these bastards until they go down!” shouted White.

“General White, may I have a word with you in private?” asked Taylor.

The General nodded, he’d never been interrupted in the middle of an operation before, but he had quickly come to trust the Major. Not only that he knew he had to open his mind to new ideas. Both men were glad to get to their feet and stretch their weary bodies. White led Taylor into a small office next to the command room. They happily stood as they straightened their backs.

“General, we have to entertain the possibility that this mission will fail. Either because their aerial defences will be highly effective or our bombs are too ineffective.”

“What are you suggesting, Major?”

“We know two things right now, we have had some success in ground combat, we just need bigger guns. We also know that France and Spain are taking a beating. I suggest we re-equip as best we can with heavy weapons and amass for a large scale infantry strike.”

“At what location, Major?”

“Strike right at them. The EUA forces are fighting on mainland Europe to the east. If we strike directly at Tartaros with substantial forces, we open a second front and take the fight to them. It should alleviate the pressure on Europe and allow them a chance to push back.”

The General shook his head. He always knew in the back of his mind that a large-scale ground deployment could be possible, he’d just tried to not think about it.

“The last thing I want to do is put tens of thousands of troops into a warzone, but if it has to be done, so be it. Let us just be thankful that we’re not having to fight on our own soil.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Major, I am giving you permission to leave. We are not making any final decisions until we see the result of the air attack, but let’s get started on sorting out the weapon situation. We still have a lot of weapons in store from fifty years ago, considered excessive for the modern day peace we enjoyed until so recently. Get to the armoury stores, you have permission to take and use anything you need, I am giving you the highest security clearance.”

“I appreciate it, General, I will do my best to equip my company with the best equipment I can find, but we’ll need to a equip a great many more men in the coming weeks.”

“I hear you, Major. Sort through everything we have, equip your men and get a report to me by the end of the day on urgent operational requirements. Anything we need we’ll put into immediate production or purchase.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Now, I have a mission to oversee, get to it, and God help us all.”

Major Taylor saluted the General before taking his leave. He was grateful to get away from the high stress atmosphere of the Command Centre. Despite the risks involved, he would rather take a combat mission any day than return there.

He left the building and lifted his communicator, calling his company base. He requested Captain Friday and Sergeant Silva. He could not afford to remove too many of the command staff at any one time, but he also knew how vital it was to source new equipment. The armoury was a ten-minute drive across the base. He flagged down the first passing jeep.

The driver immediately recognised the Major and was keen to help. With his rank the man had little choice but to assist him, but he could have made it difficult, quoting procedure. The fact was that Taylor had become a minor celebrity on the base, the man who survived the Moon invasion and rescued their Prime Minister.

To Taylor the Moon mission was a disaster. But compared to much of what was happening on Earth it had at least succeeded in part. The driver, a young corporal, was eager to discuss the action he’d seen up there but it was a sad reminder of the events for the officer. Rolling up outside the armoury, Friday, Silva and also Parker were already there. Taylor was surprised that they were able to get there so quickly.

“How long have you been here, Captain?”

“A while, Sir.”

“But I only called you here ten minutes ago.”

“Sir, the company needs some hardware, we’ve been trying to convince them to give it to us all morning, but I fear anymore and we’ll be escorted away.”

Taylor grinned. His troops did not fear combat, they only loathed the idea of returning to it without the equipment they needed.

“The time for waiting is over, Captain, I have been given unlimited access and authority to draw whatever I wish, as well as to compile a report on recommended equipment for urgent operational requirements for the whole division.”

“Right!” shouted Silva.

The Major continued on with the three others at his back. They waked right up to the guard entrance to the armouries. It was obvious that they had been putting up with the exploits of Captain Friday for some time, and had finally lost.

“Major Taylor?” the guard asked.

“Yeah.”

“General White has authorised you full access to the stores and ordered our personnel to co-operate fully.”

Taylor studied the man more intently, a sergeant. He was certainly a man with no field experience, but a lot in administration. He had a scornful expression on his face, hating the fact that he had been forced to allow the others to pass.

The huge shutters of the massive structure opened. They were wide enough for a lorry to be driven through. The four marines stepped inside, stopping in amazement. Racks that were thirty metres high stretched as far back as they could see. None of them had ever seen the stores. All ammunition was delivered to and kept in battalion stores.

After the many great wars of the last century, much of the hardware had been put aside as it was considered unnecessary for a world that lived for the most part in peace. A corporal in combats came up to them, leaving the guard on duty at the front of the building.

“Welcome, gentlemen, I am Corporal Weaver. The General says you need some guns.”

“Damn right, Corporal. We need personal arms. High explosive and armour penetration are the most important qualities. Last fight we had we simply didn’t pack enough punch.”

“Yes, Sir, a few things come to mind.”

Weaver led them to an opening in the storage crates where several sofas were set up with a TV and a fridge.

“This where you spend your work hours?” asked Taylor.

“Only when the work runs out, Major.”

Mitch laughed. The man clearly made the most of his position, but he was also organised and efficient. He knew some officers would take issue with the Corporal’s approach to aspects of his job, but he was only interested in the end result.

“Make yourself comfortable, Major, I’ll be back with a selection of what we’ve got ASAP.”

“Thank you, Corporal.”

The Major and his marines took a seat as the Corporal hurried off about his business. Before any of them could open their mouths to speak a word, Taylor’s communicator buzzed. He answered, it was General White.

“Major, the aerial attack has not gone as we had hoped. Our fighters have been met with heavy resistance and the bombing runs are not doing enough damage, not enough to make a difference.”

“Sorry to hear that, General.”

“Major, we can no longer sit by and fight from a distance, it’s time to put men on the ground. That means I need you to work even faster than intended. I want a list of equipment recommendations for infantry forces in my hand within the next two hours. Understand this, Major, you’re going to be entering a warzone, but without the industry and war machine working with you, you’ll get nowhere!”

“Understood, General, over and out.”