Ingels. "Get them up to where the Wasps have cleared the way, then push forward so that they're just behind Bravo, Echo, and Fox. Put the other two recon units out on the flanks. Second, on the north, should be able to skirt the moss. First will have to use their belts to get as far as possible before they run dry. I want them in the gaps between us and the other regiments. Make sure that 3rd and 4th recon are getting where they're supposed to be. I want them on the east side of the base, ready to cause whatever confusion they can. Get them all moving now."
He waited while Ingels passed along those orders. "The 97th should be in position on the south now," Parks said then. "They'll attack when we do."
"They're in position. Bal just confirmed it," Ingels said. "And the 8th is almost ready on the north."
Dezo nodded. "Send George Company up as well, on their feet as long as possible. I want them close enough to bring them in wherever they might be needed. They might need their belts then." He shook his head. "And they thought those belts would only be good for landings." He was too drained by the heat to laugh.
—|—
The Wasps and Havocs did hold down the amount of Schlinal fire directed at the lead companies of the Accord attack, but no amount of fire could have stopped all of it for any length of time. The vast majority of Schlinal soldiers might be unwilling conscripts, but when faced with a combat situation, most did respond as their training had told them they should. Some individuals went beyond what even the most militant of their officers might demand. For the rest, officers and noncoms were there behind their men, demanding, threatening. Discipline in the Heggie armed forces was brutal, and quick. Every Schlinal soldier learned that lesson in the first days of boot camp. The lesson was always applied with a vivid thoroughness that insured that no one who witnessed punishment would ever forget the price of disobedience. Or failure. In combat, any infraction was liable to be met with instant execution. It was far safer for a Heggie soldier to take his chances with the enemy than to fail his superiors. That was as true for officers of every grade as it was for the rawest private.
As the men of the 13th moved nearer to the Schlinal lines, they thought less about the heat of air and rocks and more about cover and maneuver. Adrenaline dimmed the complaints of "heavy" air and burned hands and knees, even though some of the burns were severe. Company grade officers and noncoms cajoled and instructed, a constant presence in the earphones of all of their men. More importantly, they did their commanding from right in the advancing line, leading by example when necessary.
For one of the few times in his career, Joe Baerclau found himself wishing that he had one of the longer-range Dupuy sniper rifles, or that the Armanoc zippers hadn't been designed so thoroughly for up-close fighting—anything that would allow him to shoot back sooner without obviously wasting ammunition. It raised his hackles to be under fire and unable to return it. He could have fired his zipper, but that would have been a futile gesture, and much worse, it would have showed his men that he was not as cool and composed under fire as he tried to appear. That was perhaps all that kept him from emptying a spool or two of wire at several times its maximum effective range.
This advance was no mad charge. There was no running, not for more than two or three meters at a time. It would have been difficult in any case. Although the strafing that the Wasps had done had opened good paths, there were still slippery spots. Men needed to watch their footing. Even without the remaining bits of moss, the intense heat would have made running any distance impossible. Long before the 13th could have closed with the enemy, most of the men would have been incapacitated.
Up and down. Move forward a few meters and take cover to rest, sometimes for no more than ten
He waited while Ingels passed along those orders. "The 97th should be in position on the south now," Parks said then. "They'll attack when we do."
"They're in position. Bal just confirmed it," Ingels said. "And the 8th is almost ready on the north."
Dezo nodded. "Send George Company up as well, on their feet as long as possible. I want them close enough to bring them in wherever they might be needed. They might need their belts then." He shook his head. "And they thought those belts would only be good for landings." He was too drained by the heat to laugh.
—|—
The Wasps and Havocs did hold down the amount of Schlinal fire directed at the lead companies of the Accord attack, but no amount of fire could have stopped all of it for any length of time. The vast majority of Schlinal soldiers might be unwilling conscripts, but when faced with a combat situation, most did respond as their training had told them they should. Some individuals went beyond what even the most militant of their officers might demand. For the rest, officers and noncoms were there behind their men, demanding, threatening. Discipline in the Heggie armed forces was brutal, and quick. Every Schlinal soldier learned that lesson in the first days of boot camp. The lesson was always applied with a vivid thoroughness that insured that no one who witnessed punishment would ever forget the price of disobedience. Or failure. In combat, any infraction was liable to be met with instant execution. It was far safer for a Heggie soldier to take his chances with the enemy than to fail his superiors. That was as true for officers of every grade as it was for the rawest private.
As the men of the 13th moved nearer to the Schlinal lines, they thought less about the heat of air and rocks and more about cover and maneuver. Adrenaline dimmed the complaints of "heavy" air and burned hands and knees, even though some of the burns were severe. Company grade officers and noncoms cajoled and instructed, a constant presence in the earphones of all of their men. More importantly, they did their commanding from right in the advancing line, leading by example when necessary.
For one of the few times in his career, Joe Baerclau found himself wishing that he had one of the longer-range Dupuy sniper rifles, or that the Armanoc zippers hadn't been designed so thoroughly for up-close fighting—anything that would allow him to shoot back sooner without obviously wasting ammunition. It raised his hackles to be under fire and unable to return it. He could have fired his zipper, but that would have been a futile gesture, and much worse, it would have showed his men that he was not as cool and composed under fire as he tried to appear. That was perhaps all that kept him from emptying a spool or two of wire at several times its maximum effective range.
This advance was no mad charge. There was no running, not for more than two or three meters at a time. It would have been difficult in any case. Although the strafing that the Wasps had done had opened good paths, there were still slippery spots. Men needed to watch their footing. Even without the remaining bits of moss, the intense heat would have made running any distance impossible. Long before the 13th could have closed with the enemy, most of the men would have been incapacitated.
Up and down. Move forward a few meters and take cover to rest, sometimes for no more than ten
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