Each of them grabbed a line and towed their missile-launching sled into position. The winter suits were the latest. Their ATGM was as old school as it came. It was a long tube with controls and extra TOW2 missiles. TOW stood for Tube-launched, Optically-tracked, Wire command data link, guided missile. Actually, to be precise, theirs was a TOW-2B Aero. The special nosecone increased the missile’s range to forty-five hundred meters. The missile was simple to operate. You found the target on the scope and fired. The missile popped out of the launcher, ignited and sped toward the target at 278 meters per second. As one kept the optical sensor on the enemy, an electronic signal ran up the two trailing wires uncoiling from the missile, adjusting its flight as necessary. It carried a thirteen-pound HEAT warhead. Their M220 launcher had thermal optics so they could see the targets in the Arctic darkness.
After setting up the launcher, Paul waited, checking his watch. Then he stood up and ignited a flare. The orange light was bright in the darkness. A flare burned into existence to the left about fifty yards away and to the right of their position maybe seventy yards.
“I think they got our message,” Paul said.
“Yes,” Red Cloud said.
Paul cut the end of the flare so it would burn out faster and then dropped it.
“Now we wait,” Red Cloud said.
“Wonderful,” Paul said.
They didn’t have long to wait. Marine Captain Bullard had decided to play this one for keeps. He’d ordered the choppers to set up the thin line as close to the approaching hovertanks as possible. The single bomber pass had served two purposes: It had kept the enemy occupied and it had allowed them to set up the launchers in secret. Bullard had known all about the Red Arrow anti-air rounds, hating them immensely.
Paul remembered the captain’s words: Keep it simple, stupid.
The captain had gone on to explain the situation. They were stretching a line in front of the Chinese like a fishing net. They were supposed to burn out as many of the hovertanks as they could. If the Chinese tried to go around them, they were supposed to hit them in the flank as they passed. The key was to kill hovers and later walk back if the choppers failed to pick them up again.
There had been plenty of questions afterward, but none of those had come from Paul.
Red Cloud now tapped Paul on the shoulder.
“It’s payback time,” Paul said, as his gut tightened. Across the ice ahead of them approached a mass of the enemy, moving fast.
Red Cloud activated the M220 Launcher.
“This is for you, Murphy,” Paul whispered. He watched through his scope, picked his target and waited until it was at extreme range. The distance was a running green number in his scope. Four thousand five hundred meters was four and a half kilometers. That was about two and eight tenths miles away. That was a nice range, especially out here on this flat tabletop of pack ice. He waited as he let the spread-out Chinese formation come in a little closer.
“You ready?” asked Paul.
“Yes,” Red Cloud said.
Paul pulled the trigger, and in seconds, their TOW sped away. Then all over the landscape, more ATGMs lit up as the missiles raced toward the forward hovertanks. Each missile uncoiled and trailed its twin wires, receiving constant course corrections. As fast as the missiles flew, it took time to speed over two miles. Enemy heavy machine gun-fire began almost immediately, but it couldn’t reach this far. Still, seeing those flashes was disconcerting. It was meant to frighten the TOW operators so they wouldn’t keep the optics on target. It made Paul’s heart pound, but he kept telling himself the machine guns lacked the range. Then the 76mm cannons began firing. The flashes were bigger, and the igniting shells moved in a flare toward them.
Paul tracked his chosen hover as he moved his optics. Then…SLAM, the missile impacted. There was brilliant flare of light on the ice over two miles away.
Before Paul could rejoice, a 76mm canister flashed near and exploded. Hot shrapnel scarred the ice, but the shell had missed.
More explosions occurred out there as Red Cloud grunted, lifting and loading another missile into the tube. When he was ready, Red Cloud slapped Paul hard on the right shoulder.
Paul thrust his eyes against the scope, choosing another hover.
Despite the TOW-2B Aero’s extreme range, the battle was short and intense. The hovers moved at combat speeds now, over seventy mph. The Chinese had the advantage of long association with their machines. The American ATGM crews were raw, even if most of them had former combat experience. Paul and Red Cloud did better than most of the others, scoring two kills. Every one of them out on the ice was a hard-bitten man, but panic set in among some of the teams.
“They’re not veering away!” shouted Paul, as Red Cloud loaded the fourth missile into the launcher. They had missed once.
“It’s an overrun attack,” Red Cloud said.
Paul could hear the lead hovers now. The machines were loud and they were fast, gliding over the white plain. The 76mm guns boomed, and gouts of snow and ice showed where canisters scored hits. The wave of vehicles remorselessly moved against their thin line.
As Paul sighted the next enemy, machine gun bullets hammered nearby into the pressure ridge. Chips of ice sprayed, one of them stinging Paul’s cheek as it furrowed across. An exploding grenade flashed nearby, hissing its shrapnel over them.
“Down!” shouted Paul, who dove behind the pressure ride and hugged the ice. Red Cloud did the same. They crawled, moving away from their sled and tube-launcher. Each found a depression and froze. Paul did so because he remembered Bullard’s words.
“With these suits, you hide and freeze like a possum. They’ll never see you until you pop up later and cut them down from behind.”
Soon, the approaching hovers roared with deadly sound. The gliding machines were almost on top of them. Then a hovertank went into high gear as it whined with power, lifting higher as it topped over the pressure ridge.
Paul trembled as fear washed through him. He had his vow, but he didn’t want to die. He wanted to live, call Cheri later and talk to Mikey. He wanted to go home. What their side needed out here was more soldiers armed with grenade launchers, heavy machine guns and recoilless rifles. Then they would have obliterated these hovertanks. How had the Chinese commander known they just had TOWs? How had he known the best tactic was to smash through?
Enemy machine guns hammered nearby and hovertank guns thundered. It must be a slaughter.
I’m not going to die like a coward. I’m at least going to face the enemy.
With a wrenching effort of will, Paul peeked up. The sight surprised him. The hovertanks were spread over a large area, but some had grouped together. Their guns roared, and canister shells exploded against the pressure ridge sixty feet away. Hot tracer machine gun rounds also blasted at the raised ice mound that ran for miles in either direction.
Red Cloud also looked up. The two exchanged glances.
The hovertanks blew a path through the pressure ridge. Big sleds with ski-mounts in the front and tracks in the back burst through the openings. Some of the sleds were obvious tankers. Others must carry ammo and the last were infantry carriers.
“Let’s wait until they pass,” Paul said.
Red Cloud answered by hugging the ice again. Paul followed his example. This wasn’t like Quebec. There, if you lay on the ice for any amount of time you began shivering. Here, their winter suits kept them warm because of the thermal heaters built into them.
Paul checked his watch. Less than fifteen minutes had passed. The sounds of the hovertanks and sleds lessened as the rearguard rapidly moved away.
“Now!” shouted Paul. He jumped up, ran to the sled and put his shoulder against it. Surprisingly, it had survived intact. In seconds, Red Cloud was helping him, grunting and heaving. They turned it, and Red Cloud loaded up another missile. Paul sighted, grinning fiercely in his enclosed helmet. He pressed the firing stub.