RECCE (The Union Series Book 4) Read online

  Wet mud sucked at my boots as I stepped out from amongst the trees and into the open grassland at the foot of the hill. Without the tree roots holding the earth together, the ground was water-logged, though nowhere near as badly as the marsh, thankfully.

  I quickly turned my head left and right to survey the area, ignoring the rain that lashed against my visor. We weren’t as exposed as I thought we might be. The grassland at the base of the hill rolled in a series of smaller knolls and mounds that provided a small amount of protection from the flanks, and the hill itself was networked by shallow re-entrants and streams that we could follow on our route up to the top. We were still overlooked by the hill summit several hundred metres above us, but I doubted that anyone up there would notice our advance - they were still being hammered by the saucers.

  The sergeant major’s group was following one of the re-entrants, keeping out of sight whilst they moved up behind the advancing sections in their sweep toward the summit. We kept to their route, making sure that we kept a gap between us and the last man in the sergeant major’s group. A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed that the rest of the section were following in my footsteps, marching up the hill in the flickering light of exploding ordinance and smart missile launches.

  It looked as though the two lead sections were going to reach the top of the hill without challenge, each bound taking them closer to the top of the slope and the edge of my view, but my hopes were quickly dashed when the first sound of rifle magnets shrieked through the night air.

  ‘Contact front!’ I heard the men at the top of the hill chorus, their darkened figures quickly dropping to the ground for cover.

  I fell to the ground as darts whizzed overhead. Though I doubted that we were the intended targets, the enemy rounds were just as deadly to us as they were to the lead sections.

  I scanned the top of the hill, zooming in with my visor to search for enemy, but to no avail. The slope of the summit was convex, meaning that it started steep and became less so at the top. The resulting curve meant that I couldn’t see anything except the line of friendly troopers, all of them now firing toward an unseen target on the summit. That was advantageous to my section, because it meant the enemy couldn’t see us either, but it also meant that I had no view of the battle further forward.

  The platoon commander spoke for the first time over the platoon net: ‘That’s us now going noisy! Sections in contact - reactivate your nets. Reserve stay silent until required!’

  I looked back down the hill toward Puppy - who gave me a thumbs-up to acknowledge that he had heard the message. There was no point in us activating our net and powering up until we were needed; if we stayed offline then we retained the ability to surprise.

  Myers hissed at me, grabbing my attention. He then tapped his upper arm with two fingers: section commander, and then pointed up toward the sergeant major. I presumed that he must have called for me to move forward - most likely so that he could then send me up to the platoon commander so that I could see the battlefield and be briefed prior to my section being launched.

  I scrambled to my feet and turned back to Skelton, who covered out to the flank with his mammoth.

  ‘Pass down to Puppy – take control of the section! I’m moving forward!’

  The trooper nodded. ‘Roger.’

  Breaking into a trot, I kept my head low as I passed Myers on my way up toward the Sergeant Major. The fire fight at the top of the hill was intensifying, presumably as one or both of the lead sections went into the assault.

  Sergeant Major Davies was on the edge of the re-entrant, watching the battle on the summit. He regarded me calmly as I took a knee next to him.

  ‘Your lads are all off the net, yes?’ he asked.

  I nodded. ‘They are.’

  ‘Good.’ He flicked his head forward. ‘Do you see the boss?’

  I peered up the hill, scanning the gathering of green crosshairs that had appeared since the lead sections had reactivated their nets. Mr Barkley was close behind them, presumably studying the ensuing battle so that he could plan his next move. With the two lead sections both committed, I knew that his next move almost certainly involved my section.

  ‘I see him.’

  ‘Move up to him for a face-to-face,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll hold your section here.’

  ‘No worries.’

  I didn’t waste a moment, running toward the battle raging above. I stuck to the re-entrants and streams that criss-crossed the hill as best I could, using its shape to keep me out of sight from the enemy.

  Even though there were friendly troops in front of me and behind me, there was something unnerving about running on my own across the darkened battlefield, darts cracking through the air overhead and shells thumping against the hill summit. The threat of being shot before I even joined the fight was enough to drive me ever faster.

  As I drew to within twenty metres of the platoon commander, I caught my first glimpse of the enemy - or rather my visor did, marking several targets with red crosshairs. I dove for the ground, knowing that I was not meant to be involved in the battle - not yet anyway. I crawled the remainder of the distance on my knees, my rifle cradled in the crook of my right arm whilst my left arm served as a third leg.

  I moved as fast as I could, rapidly passing the other members of the platoon commander’s group who were strung out behind him. One of his troopers glanced across at me, looking strangely calm despite his proximity to the battle; the platoon signaller appeared to be engrossed in a piece of equipment he had pulled halfway out of his daysack. Double-hatted as the platoon electronic warfare operator, he would fight the unseen electronic battle against the Loyalists, cutting their communications and hacking into their equipment.

  Mr Barkley was lying in a shallow dip in the ground, peering out at the battle raging in front of him.

  ‘What’s happening, boss?’ I asked, as I slid into the dip next to him, panting slightly from my crawl up the hill.

  The platoon commander pointed out to his front, where magnets shrieked and troopers shouted messages.

  ‘We have two bunkers immediately to our front,’ he explained, ‘with another two to our left about two hundred metres away.’

  I held my rifle over my head, using the camera to scan the hill. I could just about make out the damaged remains of the two bunkers to my front, but the two to the left were obscured by the curve of the slope. A section of troopers were stretched out between us and the bunkers, using every weapon system they had to in order to suppress their foe - whilst the other section bounded toward them, presumably going into the assault.

  I saw that one of the assaulting troopers had a casualty alert - a yellow crosshair flashing over him - but he didn’t appear to be affected in any way, fighting alongside his mates. It was amazing how adrenalin could carry a man through an attack without even noticing he was injured. I hoped his injuries weren’t serious, and that he had simply forgotten to cancel the alert in the heat of battle. Evacuating casualties at this stage would be a nightmare.

  ‘I’ve halted Two Section to provide fire support, and launched Three Section onto the bunkers to our front in order to gain our foothold,’ Mr Barkley continued.

  I nodded my understanding. His plan made sense. Two Section, who were on the left-hand side, had clear arcs onto all of the bunkers, including two that I couldn’t see. There was no risk of being cut off as Three Section moved forward to assault on their right flank. Allowing both sections to charge forward whilst the left-hand bunkers continued to fire from the flank would have been suicide.

  I watched Three Section as they made their final bounds toward the far right-hand bunker. They were conducting a full frontal assault - which essentially meant bounding forward as fire teams, each firing whilst the other moved, right up onto the position without using any form of flanking manoeuvre. Full frontals were often avoided because they exposed the entire section, and they required masses of firepower in order to overwhelm the enemy, but they were quick an
d they were simple. In our present situation, speed was key to success. We needed to gain a foothold on the hill before the Loyalists retook the initiative and swept us off the slope.

  The platoon commander swept his arms before his visor in a series of strange movements. To anybody outside of the military it might have appeared odd, but I knew that he was navigating menus as he controlled the two saucers that wreaked havoc above us.

  ‘All call signs,’ he announced over the net. ‘Three Section is about to achieve the break in onto the position on my mark …’

  With a point of his finger, he highlighted the right-hand bunker with a blue crosshair - an action that meant that everyone, including the troopers halfway down the hill, knew where it was.

  ‘Our air support assets are now re-directed to engage targets to the northern edge of hill Kilo and beyond in order to cut off any attempt at re-enforcement,’ he continued. ‘Should you require air support, call for it and I will hand a saucer over to you for a limited time.’

  I continued to watch as Three Section dropped off its fire team just short of the bunker, the remaining fire team bounding unopposed toward the enemy position in pairs. Whoever was left alive in the bunker had clearly lost whatever will he had left to fight, and it would cost him dearly.

  A grenade was thrown, causing my headset to beep an alert, and seconds later it detonated with a flash of light and a shower of mud. Magnets screamed as the fire team stormed into the bunker.

  ‘Position clear!’ somebody shouted over the din. ‘Delta, close in!’

  The remaining fire team of Three Section broke from their cover and ran toward the smouldering bunker, re-joining their comrades.

  ‘One-Zero-Alpha, this is One-Three-Charlie, position clear! I have one … no … two enemy dead, and one friendly casualty, priority three,’ I recognised Stan’s voice as he panted over the net. He sounded slightly flustered, but otherwise in control.

  ‘Roger,’ Mr Barkley replied, ‘confirm the layout of the position?’

  ‘One bunker connected to a trench.’

  ‘Does it connect to the second bunker?’

  ‘I can’t tell.’

  ‘Well find out, then!’ Mr Barkley snarled off the net, holding up a hand in exasperation.

  I raised an eyebrow at the rare display of anger from the platoon commander. It was often easy to forget that whatever stress I was under as a section commander, he was probably under more.

  Remembering that I was present, he quickly regained his composure and returned to the net.

  ‘One-Zero-Alpha, roger,’ he said, his voice becoming forceful. ‘Push on until you reach your limit of exploitation. Attempt to assault the second bunker on your position. Two Section, remain in fire support. One Section, be prepared to echelon through Three. All call signs acknowledge.’

  ‘One-Three.’

  ‘One-Two.’

  ‘One-Zero-Bravo.’

  The sergeant major was last to reply, breaking his net silence as he answered for both himself and my own section: ‘I will send the reserve up toward you now. One-Three-Charlie, confirm your casualty status? I have on my datapad that your casualty is Private Manning and that he has a flesh wound to the thigh …’

  Three Section’s second in command answered almost instantly, presumably having already checked the casualty over: ‘That’s correct. He’s fine. The bleed has been stopped by his combats.’

  I closed my eyes and thanked God. I wasn’t a particularly religious man, but at times like this it was always good to keep Him on side, just in case.

  ‘Good,’ the sergeant major replied, swiftly, evidently relieved. ‘Crack on.’

  Mr Barkley waited a moment longer, and then turned to me and said, ‘Happy?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be,’ I replied grimly.

  I understood the platoon commander’s thought process with no need to question it. Two Section were already suppressing three positions - the second bunker to our front, as well as the other two to our left. They were meant to be the next assaulting section, but they were far better positioned to provide fire support. Sending them in after Three Section would have been madness when my own section were sat idle at the rear, and so Mr Barkley had changed his plan to suit the unfolding situation. There was a saying that was always drummed into me ever since I started training for the Dropship Infantry on Uralis years ago: No plan survives contact, be prepared to change your plan when the situation changes.

  ‘I’m going to move across to the trench,’ the platoon commander told me. ‘Brief your men and have them ready to follow me in when you receive the order.’

  ‘Understood.’

  He beckoned toward his signaller - who was finishing packing his equipment back into his daysack in anticipation of the move. The signaller swung the daysack back onto his back and promptly nodded. ‘Good to go, boss.’

  Mr Barkley spoke over the platoon net: ‘One-Two-Charlie, prepare for rapid.’

  I could hear the order repeat amongst the embattled section on our left, and a wave of activity spread over them as they prepared to increase their fire in order to cover the platoon commander’s move to the trench.

  He gave a few moments for them to prepare themselves, ensuring that they had fresh magazines, and that any troopers who had been stood down to conserve ammunition were ready to resume suppressing the enemy bunkers.

  Mr Barkley spared me once last glance. ‘See you over there. One-Two - rapid fire!’

  I could hear the order clearly this time as Corporal Abdi screamed it for all to hear: ‘Rapid … FIRE!’

  Two Section’s suppressive fire increased into a brutal barrage that hammered the enemy positions, giving Mr Barkley the cover he needed to scramble to his feet and run up the slope toward the trench, his signaller following close behind.

  Just as the platoon commander left me, a voice called out to me from behind: ‘Where do you want us, mate?’

  It was Puppy, crouching on his hands and knees a few metres behind me, with the remainder of my section trailed out behind him in single file. Even in the dark, I could see that their chests were heaving, having been sent sprinting up the slope by the sergeant major.

  ‘Keep the lads where they are,’ I said. ‘We’re waiting for the cue from the boss to launch.’

  ‘No worries.’

  ‘Activate the net as soon as we launch,’ I added, in afterthought.

  ‘Happy days,’ he said in acknowledgement, and then passed the word back.

  I turned toward the bunker that Three Section had assaulted, catching the last glimpse of the platoon commander as he and his team slipped into the trench beside it.

  ‘We’ll probably launch in a minute,’ I warned, not taking my eyes away from the entry point.

  Just as I said that, Mr Barkley spoke over the net: ‘One-One, close in!’

  I swore.

  ‘That was a quick minute,’ Puppy said, sarcastically, having heard the message also. He turned back to the section. ‘Prepare to move, lads!’

  I ignored Puppy’s comment, calling for Two Section to provide rapid fire for our crossing to the bunker ahead of us. Something exploded on the far side of the hill, causing the earth beneath us to thump.

  Two Section’s fire increased dramatically, and taking my cue I scrambled to my feet.

  ‘Myers, follow on!’ I called.

  ‘Moving!’ was his automatic reply, as I bolted across the open ground.

  Zigzagging through the tufts of grass to make myself a difficult target to engage, I ran doubled-over, ever conscious of our exposed position on the plateau of the hill. Two Section’s fire reached a crescendo as they used everything they had to put the fear of death into the Loyalists scattered across the hill, distracting them from our movements.

  I was almost at the entry point to the first bunker - a smouldering section of trench where Three Section had made their break in - when somebody burst out, causing me to stumble in surprise.

  ‘Turn around!’ the trooper shouted, s
crambling out of the trench and running straight toward us.

  My eyes widened.

  7

  Change of Plan

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  We paused in the open, shocked at the sudden change in direction. We couldn’t turn around - we were in the assault - so what was the trooper running away from?

  ‘Turn around!’ the trooper repeated angrily.

  We still hesitated, until the platoon commander emerged from the trench, heading in the same direction.

  ‘Fucking turn around!’ he yelled, gesturing angrily.

  I turned back to the line of confused troopers stretched out behind me.

  ‘Withdraw!’ I ordered.

  There was no time to peel backward, or come up with some other effective method of transforming our charge into a retreat; running backward from an assault wasn’t something troopers practiced.

  I ran backward along the line, hurrying my men to follow suit with frantic waves of my arms, crying, ‘Move back! Move!’

  We withdrew back to the slope in a ragged formation, chased by the platoon commander and spurred by the crack and hiss of passing darts.

  The sergeant major was waiting in the same dip that I had been lying in moments ago.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded, as he saw us dropping back over the slope, the battle still raging behind us.

  I held up my arms. ‘I don’t know!’

  Mr Barkley didn’t stop as he descended onto the slope, sprinting past us both with his team in tow before turning at a right angle, moving in the direction of Two Section’s position on the left.

  ‘Change of plan!’ he shouted, ‘Follow me!’

  None of us hesitated, breaking back into a run as we followed the platoon commander, traversing the slope whilst keeping out of sight to the enemy on the hill plateau.

  I quickly realised what Mr Barkley was doing - though I wasn’t exactly sure why he was doing it - he was changing the direction of our assault so quickly that he didn’t even have the time to mark it on the platoon net. Sometimes a commander saw something - a chink in his enemy’s armour - and it was up to him to grasp the opportunity … to seize the initiative before that opportunity was lost. He would tell me what I needed to know as soon as he could.