The Mighty First, Episode 2 Page 2
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filtering down that there was even fan mail flooding the command garrisons in the Free Zone.
Minerva was Mark’s fiancé. Ford wondered if such planning was wise, given their surroundings, but their love for one another seemed genuine. Perhaps it would help carry them through all of this. He hoped that neither of them would have to face losing the other.
Minerva looked at Ford, her Hispanic eyes pretty even through the fatigue that darkened them. Her smile came easily, “Will we have to wait long?”
Ford shook his head no, puffing on his cigar, “We’ll shuttle out in a few hours and head back to the Pennsylvania Garrison. Hot showers, real food, and clean sheets.”
A muted celebration went out among the troopers, the relief visible on their faces. The word spread quickly and within an hour, Marines were filtering to an open field near the Mahoning River, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Blackhawk Shuttles that would taxi them away by platoons. The mood had lightened considerably, much to the relief of Ford. It was vital that his
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troopers not be pushed to the point of burn-out. He had plans to plead this case to Colonel Strasburg at the first opportunity, but he had to admit to himself that he was as tired as his kids were, and just wanted a break before tackling something so mundane as reports and paperwork. The thought of washing a month’s worth of sweat and grime from his body--- followed by a good meal, made his soul salivate.
Ford let himself show some emotion, and broke into cheers with the kids when the troop transports began arriving, first on the opposite end of the city to deploy the replacement battalions that would take over in their absence. When the Blackhawks then circled and started landing in the field, the feeling of elation was nearly that of a drunken party.
Minerva took the opportunity to steal another kiss from her beloved.
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Secure Presidential bunker
Somewhere in the Appalachian mountain range
United Earth President Petra Reyes leaned back against the oak conference table, her arms crossed, and listened intently as Major General Lance Parks detailed the events of the past month. One entire wall of the meeting room had been re-papered with numerous reports that were updated daily, all bordering a giant U.S. map. The map itself was dotted with colored pins and labels, each indicating troop positions and movements of both the enemy and the Allied forces. After nearly a year of suffering under alien occupation, it was extremely satisfying to her in knowing that the Terran Union was finally in a position to flex its growing military might.
“ Our U.S. Army field commanders that were already on the ground during the outbreak of the invasion back in November had been contacted by Lieutenant General Towers via Anderson Transmission Beam once Fleet regained control of our orbital
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space,” Parks was explaining. “By his order, the Army, backed by the Mexican National Marines, launched coordinated offensives all across the southern line. This was mostly with artillery, but laced with numerous infantry pushes to make it appear as if we were making an attempt to regain ground.”
“This tactic was a fantastic success in drawing Grozet’s attention,” Parks continued. “He moved an approximate sixty percent of his total ground force to reinforce the southern front, a projection that left his defenses along the eastern line standing alone. This was exactly the reaction that Towers was hoping for.”
The General pointed to markers on the left of where he stood, “ On the first of May, at one in the morning our time, the Attayan Elite Corps landed two full regiments of infantry, backed by armored support, in a south-to-north line from Tennessee to Lake Superior, dividing Illinois and Indiana at their border. This was done in order to prevent Grozet from moving his forces any further east once he realized the southern offensive was a ruse. Four hours later, our Global Marine Corps dropped the entire
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Eighty-Third Infantry Regiment and the One Hundred Eighth Armored Division on top of the Ohio Line. In just over a day, they had established a beachhead, and within two days, successfully liberated the town of Hubbard.
“Marine Colonel Strasburg and Attayan Colonel Lafferty, the forward operations commanders, opted to continue pushing further into the Occupied Zone while they were able to maintain the element of surprise. The European Union had bolstered our surface navy, and aided in establishing a strong coastal presence, which has been key in moving aid to the civilian community. Anyway, the Storians were completely unprepared for that landing and were on the retreat, attempting to link up with their rear elements located in the city of Youngstown. As you’ve seen on the GNN reports, that battle was horrific. Well, it finally ended about six hours ago. The Storians pulled back again, heading west toward Akron, Ohio. I imagine our next engagement will take place there.”
Reyes was struggling to grasp it all. The GNN coverage had been very thorough and graphic. She knew that the Marines
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had been forced to shelve their collateral damage limits in order to keep the initiative, and the destruction of that city had been nearly total. Within the next few hours, the news-vids would be playing the public opinion polls. She wondered what the general populace would have to say, and hoped that the armchair generals out there would keep in mind that Earth was literally fighting for its life.
“Do we have a tally of our casualties yet?” She wanted to know.
Parks consulted some of his papers, “It’s tentative at this point, but so far, we have over three hundred dead, fifteen-hundred wounded and out of action, and forty-four unaccounted for. The latter are probably those who were hit by artillery, the bodies were likely vaporized.”
The President cringed at that description, “This is wrenching,” She told him. “Most of those Marines are teen-agers. I curse Grozet to hell for putting our youth in this kind of situation, and I curse our own stupidity in allowing our Armed Forces to wither to the point it has, where we have to throw our kids into
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combat to save our sorry butts, while we scramble to rebuild our military!”
“The civilian death toll will be available by tomorrow,” Parks added. “It will be impossible to distinguish how many were killed as a result of our actions or Grozet’s.”
“Well, after a month of battle, it’s a wonder that anyone is alive at all, “Reyes commented. “ What are we doing to help the population there?”
“The Attayans are relocating them to New Bedford, Pennsylvania, in the Free Zone,” Parks answered. “From there, they will receive medical care and be transported to Texas, where refugee housing is being set up.”
Reyes stretched and glanced at her watch. It was nearly time for dinner and her stomach was telling her so, “What of this Mighty First that GNN keeps harping about? What’s the story there? “
The General took a seat and plopped his file on the table top, “The media happened to be following that particular battalion on D-Day. Those kids bore the worst of the fighting and still
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managed to save the day, knocking out defenses along the infamous Wall, allowing the invasion force to break through. Led by a Sergeant Major Ford, the First Battalion has been key in the entire past five weeks, keeping us on the offensive.”
“Five weeks? “ Reyes asked, astonished. “Those poor kids must be spent!”
Parks shook his head, “It’s sad, but yes. Non-stop. They are being relieved today by Attayan regiments, and rotated to the rear for some rest. I’d say they’ve earned it.”
“You’re darn right, they’ve earned it,” She said sternly. “You give them at least a month off the line, Lance, do you hear me?”
Parks smiled, “I like it when you’
re rough.”
The President un-folded her arms and regarded the map of the United States on the wall, with its mass of colored markers spread over the northern portion of the country.
“The populace has really suffered over this past year, Lance. We’ve lost so many!”
The admiral agreed, “After the initial strikes, starvation
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took a huge chunk out of our citizenry. Following that came the disease from contaminated water and the rotting bodies. The hard numbers we have are from the Free Zone, which would be a wasteland right now if not for the support from the European Alliance, Mexico and China. Things there have stabilized and actually show some signs of improving. The power grid is being pieced back together, and commerce efforts from the coastal ports are trucking food and goods further inland. Behind the lines, though, we just don’t know. The Storians aren’t in the business of humanitarian aid, so how anyone is surviving in the Occupied Zone is anyone’s guess. “
Reyes sighed deeply, and moved over to a world map on the adjoining wall, “Do we have any intel on the Pacific Theatre?”
The Major General nodded, “The Asiatic Alliance has their surface navy regaining control of the waters along the Philippines, and Japan managed to establish a solid beachhead there. The Storians have their command and control center fiercely defended in Manila. The ground forces will play hell in taking that city.”
The president pointed at an AWACS aerial photo taken
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from high altitude. It was a surprisingly clear image of a huge, glassy, diamond-shaped object hanging in the sky above the Philippine capital. Data on the frame stated dimensions that rivaled a football field.
“Any idea yet what these things are?” She asked, “There’s one just like it hanging over Indianapolis. I’m assuming they’re related to the alien command centers.”
Parks stepped over beside her, contemplating the photo, “We’re fairly certain that these are the Storian version of Anderson Transmitters. They periodically emit high-powered pulses that scramble everything electronic within a fifty mile radius, likely when messages are being sent or received.”
“Then they should be primary targets,” Reyes stated firmly, “why haven’t we made any moves to take them out?”
“Actually, the Australian Surface Navy did attempt to move against the one over Manila,” Parks explained, face grim, “first with Tomahawks fired from missile cruisers, followed by a direct assault from their carrier air wings. Ordinance is kept at bay by an invisible shield of some sort. The air wing was lost
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when the object powered up, disabling their electronics. They lost eleven fighter-bombers.”
Reyes slumped against the table, “I see. Well, we can’t afford to lose too many of the limited aircraft we have, when we need them to support our ground operations.”
“It’s a dilemma,” Parks agreed, “because at the same time, cutting off Storian communications to their home world would be a wise tactical decision. The Attayan Space Navy may not be able to hold the blockade indefinitely. If Storian reinforcements break through, it could tip the balance in their favor.”
“I suggest gathering all of the global district scientists,” the president voiced, “and have them put their heads together on how to disable these devices. Involve the Attayans as well. Maybe they can come up with something.”
Parks sighed, and reached out a hand, “What say we get something to eat? I can’t think on an empty stomach.”
Reyes permitted herself a grin, and accepted.
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New Bedford, Pennsylvania
June 12th
D-Day, plus 41 days
The afternoon before had been one of substantial relief. The harried troops of the 83rd Regiment had at last been pulled off the front line after better than a month of sustained action. The young Marines of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Battalions were chiefly in their teens, and the horrors of battle had taken a hard toll on their youth. The boys and girls appeared to have aged substantially, gone was the banter and show-boating. They had tasted fear in its truest form, witnessed their friends being horribly wounded or killed, and survived enough close-calls of their own to last a lifetime. The first war in over a hundred years had thrust them from the blissful ignorance of childhood into history being written in its worst form. Their mood was somber, but the relief of having survived, and knowing that at least for a little while they would be
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able to relax, brought smiles to their faces nonetheless.
The shuttles had brought them across the Free Zone and deposited them in the first town bordering the eastern liberation zone, which had opened its doors to them with enthusiasm. The local high school gym had been transformed by the Naval Maintenance Division, and Seabees, to receive them one company at a time. The troopers trudged single-file down a line of stations, first surrendering their weapons and gear, then unlatching their stinking armor for cleaning and repair--- lastly peeling out of putrid fatigues, and dropping them into waste receptacles. The under-garments and socks were so soiled that their disposal was the only option. It reminded Minerva of that day so long ago that she had been near the end of basic training, back in Camp Madison on Attaya Prime. Only instead of being fitted for the first time in their battle gear, they were now being relieved of it.
Naked, the kids were given a bar of soap and directed into the showers, where weeks-long accumulations of filth, sweat, and blood were scrubbed away under delicious hot water. The kids were all smiles by then, anticipating the possibility of R&R time to
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fly home to see family after better than a year away from home.
From there, they stepped into the locker rooms, where medical personnel made brief exams, searching for skin disease, patching sores, and lastly issuing a towel to dry off with. The medical corpsmen were disheartened by the heavy bruising on the young bodies, and the dark expressions from eyes that were much too youthful to be burdened with that sort of mental anguish.
Fresh fatigues awaited the kids at the end of the assembly line, where an officer velcroed the appropriate rank insignia to their sleeves. The kids assembled again out in a courtyard, where buses took them by companies to the football field. There, an immense chow line had been set up. A buffet of rich food rose their spirits even higher, and by the time the Marines were seated at the benches, chatter and laughter began to rise. The meal was the second step in the process of recovery, behind the cleansing shower. Conversation remained neutral, never touching on what they had just endured. There were enough stark reminders of that just by the diminished ranks. Some platoons had been wiped out altogether, most of the others were greatly reduced in number.
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By nightfall, clean and with contented stomachs, the commanders formed up the regiment under the bright stadium lights, and informed them that they were hereby granted a 30-day liberty. No work details, no formations, total freedom to do as they wished until duty was to resume on July the 12th. The local hotels, along with the residents who were offering to open their homes, would provide housing, as would be indicated by yellow ribbons hung by front doors. With that, the kids were dismissed. Cheers rose to the night.
Mark and Minerva had opted to share a hotel room with Ecu, Amell, Manny, and Ford. Over the past month, they had grown to become close friends. The six of them requisitioned extra mattresses from the clerk and proceeded to throw a quiet drunk, sharing bottles of whiskey, beer, and an Attayan favorite, Licorice Schnapps. The combination had succeeded in sufficiently numbing their brains. By one in the morning, the laughter had dwindled to snores, and the close-knit friends enjoyed the first real slumber in better than a month.
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Now, as the morning sunlight streamed through the open window, shining on the faces of the sleeping youths, Minerva stirred. Her eyes opened and at first, she couldn’t remember where she was. She felt exposed, used to the clinginess of the armor, and bolted upright--- suddenly completely awake, nerves jangling. Her eyes darted around the room, muscles tensed for action, but memory pushed its way through the fog of too much alcohol and she recalled the night before and why she was where she was now.
Her breath stank, reeking of Licorice Schnapps, and she was pretty sure that someone had just farted.
Minerva looked down at Mark, who was still asleep on the mattress beside her, snoring softly. His face was so peaceful. The worry lines had already faded, and his features had returned to the rugged handsomeness that so attracted her. After shaving the stubble from his jaw the previous afternoon, some of his boyish appearance had been restored. Sadly, the innocence was gone, as it was for all of them. She leaned over and softly kissed his cheek.
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The room had double beds, with another pair of mattresses squeezed into the narrow spaces on either side of them that the desk clerk had been kind enough to supply for them. Ford was still passed out on his mattress under the window, dressed only in his boxers. She couldn’t help but allow her eyes to wander a little. The man was positively immensely proportioned, solid muscle from neck to toes. Bruises graced both sides of his torso, where a close call with a mortar had thrown him several feet during one of their many battles in taking Youngstown. Other, smaller bruises on one of his thighs marked where rifle rounds had glanced off of his armor plating. The qualities of their nano-armor had saved their lives on many occasions. Better to be bruised than dead.