“Uh, sir,” Ping said. “The Behemoths aren’t just flanking. They’re attacking.”
Liang scowled. “We need better reconnaissance. I don’t care what it costs in our drone reserve. Get me better images of the Tank Army’s northern edge.” He picked up a phone. With a deeper scowl, Liang turned to one of the communications people. “Put me through to General Xi.”
General Xi commanded Tenth Army of Army Group A.
“It’s time to light a fire under him,” Liang muttered. “They’re moving much too slowly against the Americans.”
Like a thunderclap from Heaven, Stan Higgins and his ten Behemoths poured penetrators into 5th Division of the PAA Tenth Army.
Stan rocked forward in his commander’s seat. The engine revved with power and yet another surge sent a penetrator screaming at the helpless enemy.
The ten super-tanks charged across the snowscape at speed. It put the magnetic suspension to the test. Behind the ten Behemoths followed specially-built battlewagons.
Stan had already called one halt to resupply. Each Behemoth had its own battlewagon and team of experts. They moved with the speed of NASCAR specialists, rushing fuel hoses to the Behemoths and carting extra penetrators and buffers through the large back ports.
So long as each cannon worked, Stan planned to use them against the enemy and maintain the assault.
“Enemy incoming!” the tech sergeant shouted.
“I see them,” Stan said, turning to his number three screen. “Artillery shells,” he added.
The tracking AI had already spotted the shells. The ten Behemoths were linked with the Phalanx Defense System. Automated .50 calibers, 30mm auto-cannons and the beehive flechettes spewed counter-fire at the shells, knocking ninety-nine percent of them.
Some always made it through. Probability dictated it. The three hundred ton Behemoth shook as shells slammed into them.
With worried eyes, Stan studied his screens. His tank was okay. …So were the other nine. Damn! One of his battlewagon’s treads had been knocked off. He’d have to leave the supply vehicle behind. To lose it this early in the battle…
“Who are you kidding?” he muttered to himself. This was the death ride of the Behemoths. Ten tanks no matter how super could not defeat two entire Chinese Armies, not even these burnt-out shells of armies that had whittled away their strength in Denver.
But…the death ride might give Second Tank Army time to defeat the southern rush so they could turn around and take on the others later.
There was one other component to Stan’s plan. He hadn’t told anyone else about it. His son was in Denver—at least, he hoped Jake still lived. The thing Stan wanted more than anything was to free his son from the trap. To do that, they had to keep these Chinese sealed up in the encirclement.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Stan said.
“What’s that, Colonel?” Jose asked.
“I said: I’m wondering when they’re going to throw their remaining air at us. They can’t afford to let us keep chewing into the Tenth.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Jose said. “The enemy air will be along soon.”
Stan kept an eye on the AI meter. This new Phalanx link was amazing. Ten Behemoths threw up a massive amount of counter-fire. He wondered now if he’d brought along enough extra munitions.
Too bad the Chinese had already knocked out a battlewagon. Stan had a feeling he’d be wanting those supplies before this fight was over.
Marshal Liang’s tic grew worse as the information poured in.
“Ten tanks can’t do this!” he shouted. It happened after the third division in a row of Tenth Army fell apart.
The worst were the images of ten Behemoths destroying infantry too slow to flee from their line of advance. Beehive flechettes and 30mm shrapnel blew down soldiers like combines scything wheat. The worst was a Chinese soldier sprinting for safety among rubble. He blew apart into red mist, simply disappearing from history. The mist settled and sprinkled the snow red.
During the slaughter, the first piece of good news flashed on a screen. It happened after Liang ordered a mass artillery bombardment on the Behemoths.
“Such a bombardment will kill our soldiers, too,” the general of Tenth Army complained.
“They’re already dead,” Liang said. “The least they can do is to take their tormenters to the grave with them.”
Soon, the artillery barrage and cruise missile attack reached the hateful tanks. On a screen, Liang and the entire Headquarters staff watched a ground-hugging missile slam against a three hundred ton beast and blow a gaping hole in it.
Officers and orderlies cheered. A few even slapped each other on the back.
That alone brought home to Liang several key factors. The Behemoth tanks were amazing. Hong had been right to expend two armies to destroy the Behemoth Manufacturing Plant. It also meant the MC ABMs were equally fantastic. Before their destruction, they had killed eight of these super-tanks. China needed more MC ABMs. China should field hundreds of the great vehicles.
Liang shook his head. That was the future. Today, the viability of the North American conquest might very well rest on destroying nine American super-tanks.
The cruise missile barrage during the slaughter of Chinese infantry gave Liang the answer to his problem. Now he would have to coordinate the next strike and make sure it took out several of these grim monsters.
“Colonel Higgins, my force cannon has malfunctioned.”
“Can you repair it?” Stan asked the commander. He sat in his Behemoth. He’d spent hours now, driving west as he destroyed one Chinese formation after another. The flank attack—hitting the Chinese piecemeal with the full force of the remaining Behemoths—had been more wildly successful that he would have thought possible.
Frederick the Great knew more than he explained. When this trick works, it works.
Stan accepted a stim pill from Jose, put it on his tongue and slugged it back with bottled water. The endless hours of surges, stopping to let the AI Phalanx-link do it task and watching the murderous efficiency of his tanks at close range against infantry had taken its toll on him.
War was young man’s game, and he was in his fifties. All the working out over the years helped, but his body wasn’t what it used to be.
“Well, Ted,” Stan told the Behemoth commander. “If your force cannon won’t work, you’re along now to provide protective cover with the rest of your armaments. Concentrate on searching for air assaults.”
“Yes sir, Colonel.”
The screen flickered, removing the commander and showing the operational situation. What remained of Tenth Army and the Fifteenth turned to face and swarm the Behemoths. American artillery kept pounding the enemy at the longest range possible, and drone strikes hammered in to keep the Chinese busy. Even with all that, the enemy was finally doing the right thing.
It’s a matter of speed. Who can accomplish his task quicker: our Behemoths or the great, unwieldy armies?
“With the loss of the force cannon and the destroyed Behemoth earlier, we’ve lost one-fifth of our offensive firepower,” Jose commented.
“I know,” Stan said. He’d been thinking the same thing.
“How many force cannons do you need to keep the attacking going?” Jose asked.
“That’s a good question. I’ll tell you in a little bit.”
Jose laughed nervously. “I never realized our Behemoths were this good, Colonel.”
No, Stan thought, neither did I.
First Rank Zhu gripped the handlebars of his battle-taxi. To his right, First Rank Tian’s squad clung to their battle-taxi. The helos flew nap-of-the-earth, a bare twenty meters above the snow. This was trick flying and he was leading his squad into the fray for the first time.