punched gaping holes in the enemy fighter. It plummeted to the ground in a burning rage. Friday shook his head in sadness. He knew the German plane would have been gathering essential information.
“You can’t doubt their courage,” said Silva.
Friday nodded in agreement. The air war had become an unusual occurrence in the last week, as if both sides had simply lost too many craft or pilots to keep up the effort.
“I guess it’s down to us to slug it out now, like we always have,” mused the Sergeant.
“Let’s move out,” replied Friday.
It was a sad sight to see one of their planes brought down. The Captain could already feel his platoon had taken a knock to their morale, which was already low since being ordered on their mission. Up ahead, they could see the forest growing nearer; they hadn’t got that near in weeks. They’d watched the tree lines with a keen eye every day, wondering what lay beyond them.
Friday was suspicious as they approached, more so than should be expected. He knew the enemy positions lay some way ahead, but the utter tranquillity made him nervous.
“Keep alert,” he whispered.
The platoon’s pace slowed as they closed the distance until they reached the rim of the forest. Friday was astonished they’d made it without incident, and a fact which made him all the more suspicious.
“Fan out, we hold here for twenty minutes.”
“Sir, aren’t we supposed to be scouting these woods?” asked Silva.
“Walking around until we find trouble? Fuck that, I’m not getting any of these troops killed because some General has a gripe.”
Silva smiled. He knew Friday always had their best interests at heart. The Captain was like the little brother of Major Taylor. He had all the strength, courage and leadership of their former leader. They lay in wait for the twenty minutes, but it felt more like half the day. Finally, Friday stood up and stretched his aching knees, leaning over to Silva.
“Pass the word. We head north along the forest edge, three metre spacing.”
A minute later, the platoon arose and continued their trek onwards. Just five minutes after they had set off, a volley of light pulses flashed through the trees to their west. Friday had just enough time to shout before the impacts struck.
“Incoming!”
Friday and Silva hit the ground as the first pulses erupted. The three above them burst with an ear-splitting explosion, sending foliage smashing down over their bodies. Friday’s head was smashed into the mud by the weight of a falling branch. Only his helmet and the soft ground saved him from being crushed.
He shrugged off the branch and turned in the mud to see the status of the platoon, as fire continued to rain down on their heads. He could make out the body of one dead private already, and could only imagine the injuries he couldn’t see from his position. He could hear screams of pain and calls for the medic running down the line, but they were going unanswered.
The Captain got up onto one knee while huddling behind a thick three trunk to get a better view of their surroundings. He could see at least a dozen Mechs firing on their position and knew there would be more closely behind. He turned back to Silva and bellowed his orders.
“Fall back. Fighting withdrawal!”
Silva nodded and quickly relayed the command at twice the volume the Captain could manage. The two men got to their feet and quickly returned fire with their weapons. The ineffectiveness of their old battle rifles was a painful experience after living Reiter’s weaponry. Friday hit one of the Mechs with eight shots to the faceplate but did not penetrate. He ducked back behind cover, firing another burst into the same target zone and finally broke through, killing the creature immediately.
Now in a standing position, he could fully see the damage around them. There was only one dead marine but five wounded.
“Get those wounded out of here now!”
Several of the platoon rushed to the aid of
“You can’t doubt their courage,” said Silva.
Friday nodded in agreement. The air war had become an unusual occurrence in the last week, as if both sides had simply lost too many craft or pilots to keep up the effort.
“I guess it’s down to us to slug it out now, like we always have,” mused the Sergeant.
“Let’s move out,” replied Friday.
It was a sad sight to see one of their planes brought down. The Captain could already feel his platoon had taken a knock to their morale, which was already low since being ordered on their mission. Up ahead, they could see the forest growing nearer; they hadn’t got that near in weeks. They’d watched the tree lines with a keen eye every day, wondering what lay beyond them.
Friday was suspicious as they approached, more so than should be expected. He knew the enemy positions lay some way ahead, but the utter tranquillity made him nervous.
“Keep alert,” he whispered.
The platoon’s pace slowed as they closed the distance until they reached the rim of the forest. Friday was astonished they’d made it without incident, and a fact which made him all the more suspicious.
“Fan out, we hold here for twenty minutes.”
“Sir, aren’t we supposed to be scouting these woods?” asked Silva.
“Walking around until we find trouble? Fuck that, I’m not getting any of these troops killed because some General has a gripe.”
Silva smiled. He knew Friday always had their best interests at heart. The Captain was like the little brother of Major Taylor. He had all the strength, courage and leadership of their former leader. They lay in wait for the twenty minutes, but it felt more like half the day. Finally, Friday stood up and stretched his aching knees, leaning over to Silva.
“Pass the word. We head north along the forest edge, three metre spacing.”
A minute later, the platoon arose and continued their trek onwards. Just five minutes after they had set off, a volley of light pulses flashed through the trees to their west. Friday had just enough time to shout before the impacts struck.
“Incoming!”
Friday and Silva hit the ground as the first pulses erupted. The three above them burst with an ear-splitting explosion, sending foliage smashing down over their bodies. Friday’s head was smashed into the mud by the weight of a falling branch. Only his helmet and the soft ground saved him from being crushed.
He shrugged off the branch and turned in the mud to see the status of the platoon, as fire continued to rain down on their heads. He could make out the body of one dead private already, and could only imagine the injuries he couldn’t see from his position. He could hear screams of pain and calls for the medic running down the line, but they were going unanswered.
The Captain got up onto one knee while huddling behind a thick three trunk to get a better view of their surroundings. He could see at least a dozen Mechs firing on their position and knew there would be more closely behind. He turned back to Silva and bellowed his orders.
“Fall back. Fighting withdrawal!”
Silva nodded and quickly relayed the command at twice the volume the Captain could manage. The two men got to their feet and quickly returned fire with their weapons. The ineffectiveness of their old battle rifles was a painful experience after living Reiter’s weaponry. Friday hit one of the Mechs with eight shots to the faceplate but did not penetrate. He ducked back behind cover, firing another burst into the same target zone and finally broke through, killing the creature immediately.
Now in a standing position, he could fully see the damage around them. There was only one dead marine but five wounded.
“Get those wounded out of here now!”
Several of the platoon rushed to the aid of
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