‘Help me with the PAL,’ said Higgins, opening a large alloy crate containing the PAL, an exoskeleton Power Assisted Limb suit worn by the operator to aid in carrying substantial loads.
Suited up, Higgins and Jameson looked like alien cyborgs.
They loaded one another’s backs with munitions. Each was able to carry nearly 300 kilograms with the PALs.
‘Remember, take it easy for the first few minutes,’ said Higgins, ‘PAL will mess with your coordination with these loads.’
‘I’m good,’ replied Jameson, moving forward — slowly at first.
They were able to walk at a good pace despite the difficult terrain. The PAL sensors could maintain perfect balance for the operator at up to 45-degree angles.
Shortly after starting out, they saw and heard the enemy counterattack. The night turned to day as mortars and artillery lit up the sky, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Unmanned jet-powered drones swooped down low and fast over the ground, unleashing thousands of rounds on the Australians with each pass.
‘Come on! Eject the loads. Let’s get into it!’ yelled Higgins to Jameson.
Hitting the emergency release button on his suit, the munitions dropped instantly to the ground.
‘Switch your PAL to combat setting,’ yelled Higgins, checking the ammunition count on his RP-12. ‘No time to eject!’
None of the soldiers liked using the PAL in live combat. The armour couldn’t stop a direct hit and there had been cases of PALs jamming up completely. When hit effectively, they seized up, leaving the operator a sitting duck. Because of all this, they were generally considered too risky for combat. But at least in combat setting the PAL suits became faster and more responsive than in their load-bearing setting.
Higgins and Jameson sprinted to the forward line. The closer they got, the more carnage they could make out. Then people began to appear, running towards them. Higgins spotted the major, injured but still barking orders.
‘Turn around! Get back to the base camp and set up a defensive line!’ yelled the major, tracer rounds framing him as he ran toward Higgins.
The unmanned Chinese tanks were unleashing a hail of bullets and munitions on the retreating soldiers — no mercy from the enemy. Not that Australia had shown any mercy earlier when the Chinese had retreated.
In the PAL suit Higgins was faster than the others, so he dropped to a knee and started to lay down suppression fire on the Chinese, hoping to buy the others some time to retreat.
As the major ran toward Higgins, a plume of blood vapour exploded in front of his torso. Half a second later he went down, face-first into the ground.
Higgins was up, running towards him. A bullet smashed into the shoulder armour of the PAL, twisting Higgins wildly. Regaining control, he ran forward to where the major lay.
Reaching him, Higgins kneeled down. ‘Sir, get up!’ he yelled over the carnage around them.
The major mumbled something Higgins couldn’t make out.
Higgins, looking down at the major’s back, could see a small hole where the small-calibre, hyper-velocity round had entered his lower back. Higgins knew that the round would have passed through his body, tearing a much bigger hole as it exited his abdomen.
‘Major, come on. We have to move!’ screamed Higgins, teeth grinding as he leaned down and hauled the major up to sitting so that he could get him onto his shoulder.
Higgins saw the blank look on the major’s face. He looked incredulous, not in any pain, just sitting there confused. At that moment, a bullet entered the major’s back, ripping through his sternum. Exploding, the exiting round sent blood, flesh and shards of bone flying, much of which ended up on Higgins.
In shock, he let go of the major’s limp body and stumbled backwards, falling. The major’s blood covered virtually every part of Higgins and the PAL unit above the waist. His eyes were the only bits of his face that were not covered in gore.
He sat frozen, legs spread, arms propping him up, staring at the major’s ruined body. He fell back, lying in the dirt, paralysed. An intense ringing in his ears drowned out everything. The flashes of explosions were all in the background now, and the strobe effect of the light seemed to draw him further into a state of shock.
Higgins’ fuzzy mind slowly came back to him. An intense feeling of vertigo overcame him, and he was overcome by nausea. He leant over to his right to vomit the contents of his stomach up. Picking himself up groggily, he focussed hard on willing his limbs to move. As soon as he did, the PAL took over and he began to run quickly back to the trench.
Crashing into the safety of the trench, he saw Jameson firing furiously at the enemy. Higgins wiped his mouth and noticed the blood and bone on his hand. It took a second for him to realise it was the remains of the major on his face. Scrubbing furiously at his face with his gloved hands, he rubbed so hard his face was scratched and red and sore.
Jameson, still firing, looked down at Higgins rubbing his face. ‘Get the fuck up here! Shoot! Shoot!’ he yelled.
Higgins ignored him, so Jameson paused shooting long enough to kick him. It was enough to give Higgins a physical sensation to grab onto and focus on.
Slowly Higgins stood and lifted his rifle. Taking position beside Jameson, he unleashed his weapon on anything that moved.
With every burst of fire he became more and more focussed on the present, on what was going on around him and on his uncontrollable fury. Half-man, half-machine, flesh, blood and bone adorning his body, he was a terrifying sight. The enemy would receive no mercy from Corporal James Higgins.
The order came after another two hours of intense fighting: ‘RETREAT IMMEDIATELY.’
For most of those on the frontline it was a welcome order. They were beyond exhausted mentally and physically. Many of them were collapsing unconscious, their bodies unable to continue after the fierce fighting. But the order was a bitter pill to swallow for Higgins. He knew there was little hope of holding back the Chinese forces, but he couldn’t stand the thought of being beaten. The pain he felt to his pride far outweighed any physical pain. He felt embarrassed that they had not been able to succeed in their mission. He could barely look Jameson in the eye.
Even though the order was simply to retreat as opposed to surrender, he knew that Australia was screwed. They had suffered too many losses and the Chinese were too strong. The walls of Fortress Australia had been breached and now the enemy had the chance to build a foothold. They now had a platform from which to launch the second phase of their plan — securing the mines of South Australia.
At the end of the fighting, over 10,000 Australians, and a good percentage of the US soldiers who were assigned to the battle from their base in Darwin, were either dead or seriously wounded. Nearly 30,000 Chinese were dead or wounded — acceptable losses by Chinese standards. Their military still vastly outnumbered the Australians, who were now half the fighting contingent they were at the outset. After just over a week of bloody fighting, it was clear that Australia had no chance of stopping the Chinese.
The Australian public could take no more either, as people were bombarded with high-definition graphic images from Sky World and BBCNN. The channels broadcast 24-hour live coverage, with military analysts providing commentary and speculation. The charts, the maps, the statistics were overwhelming. Every Australian with a digital media device could see the same sorts of reports Australia’s military leaders were seeing.
This was one reality show that the public could not stomach. The media’s no-holds-barred coverage made watching almost unbearable for many. However, in the vain belief that watching the massacre was akin to a show of support for the soldiers, many of the people thought it was the public’s duty to watch.