“I suggest it is essential to continue the current operation. This river valley is the heart of their industry and seizing it will prevent them from producing more tanks. The plan to spread out from there to conquer the Northern Province is secondary, something we can delay for an indefinite period. As for a breakout in the south followed by a drive to seize their capitol, that is feasible but will not end the war; crushing their industrial base will reduce our losses. That is our focus. When our conquest is complete we’ll need living warriors to occupy this planet and exploit the population. Warriors can’t help us from Valhalla.”
The second Clan Chief said, “You speak of new tanks and the Mandarin Regular Army, but there is another force at work here, something unexpected. Yesterday I had two divisions of my best warriors wiped off the map.”
The High Chief waved his operations specialists away, gestured for another man in green coveralls to approach. The second man said, “I have compiled battle reports and done extensive analysis and research. There is a Mercenary Brigade, called the Jasmine Panzer Brigade, in Chong-gok op. It is supported by three brigades of Capellan Confederation Marines equipped with medium powered armor. They also have a squadron of Interceptors, responsible for seventy percent of our bomber force losses. They were the ones who gave us a bloody nose at Cherry Fork, and they stand against us now.
“Analysis shows they are the single greatest threat to our forces, due to their high degree of technical and tactical expertise and superior equipment. Attacking and destroying them under the most favorable conditions would mean a loss ratio of five to one against us. Add in factors such as terrain and Mandarin military support and that number goes way up very quickly.”
The High Chief said, “Thank you,” and waved the intelligence specialist away. Then he turned to his three nephews and said, “I have a job for you three. Learn what you can about these mercenaries and then create a task force equal to them. Take warriors from each of your clans, organize and train them and put a leader in command of them who can think independently. He will report directly to me and I will charge him with the mission of meeting this Jasmine Panzer Brigade in battle, to keep it busy and out of the larger fight. You have six weeks to make this happen. Do you understand?”
The eldest nephew said, “Yes, Chief.”
The High Chief waved them away with his right hand. Then he said to his sons, “Conquer the valley and take their factories. But be mindful that we may need to use those factories to build more tanks for ourselves. Failure is not an option.”
The two remaining Clan Chiefs stood. The elder one said, “Father, we will not disappoint you.”
“I know. You may go.”
They left. The High Chief drew his sword and pulled a stone from his pocket and began sharpening the blade. The blade was already as sharp as it would ever get. Sharpening it was just something he did to help him focus, help him relax.
Chapter Eighteen
Galen stood in the hatch of his command tank and monitored comms. For three days it had been quiet, too quiet. Then the Mosh to the west had pushed into the industrial town across the river and took it in two days. Then the call came from the guard detachment on the west side of the bridge: “They’re here.”
The fire support officer laid down fires to keep the Mosh away from the other end of the bridge and a company of mechanized infantry went across on the lowest level of the bridge and established security. Galen said to his driver, “Let’s go.”
The Lion command tank pulled out of the residential garage where it had been hidden and made its way to the east end of the bridge. The Hercules heavy tank battalion was there waiting. Galen moved to the head of the column and said, “Herc six, follow me.”
They crossed on the top level of the bridge, to let the Mosh see them, for psychological impact. The Stallion and Hellcat tank battalions crossed on the level below, and the Light Tank battalion and Cavalry Squadron crossed on the bottom level of the bridge. Galen popped has hatch and looked. The river was two kilometers wide, its surface smooth, the skyline of the city on the opposite bank reflected in its surface. The Hercules tanks fired as they moved, picked targets along the river bank at first, and then shot into the buildings. Suppressive fire for the most part. Not many identifiable targets, just good guesses at where an enemy might be. Galen dropped down and closed his hatch, fired short bursts from his cupola rail gun into a few windows in the distance.
After crossing the bridge he parked off to the left side and said, “All yours, Herc. Good luck.” Galen popped his hatch and looked around at the buildings. They were office and apartment buildings, most of them ten to twelve stories high.
“Roger. Herc Six out.”
The Hercules tanks spread out left and right on the riverfront street and stopped with a platoon facing up each of the streets. They exchanged fire briefly with Mosh defenders, neutralized the threat, and then waited in silence. Marines in battle armor ran across the bridge and fell in behind the heavy tanks, a company behind each platoon. These groups pushed foreword and stopped at the far end of the block.
The helos then came and placed light infantry on the roofs of the buildings and they fought their way down to ground level. The heavy tanks moved forward another block and the Marines cleared more buildings. The medium tanks spread out on the riverfront street and took up the far left and right flanks. More Marines came and fell in behind them. The Helos shuffled more light infantry around, set them onto the roofs of the buildings where the Marines met tough resistance.
The task force clawed its way forward to the center of the city and then paused, expecting an armored counterattack that never came. Galen’s tank was parked next to an oversized bronze statue of a Mandarin political leader that stood tall in front of the main steps of city hall. The fight was over, but an occasional blast of anti-aircraft fire from the task force met incoming indirect fire from scattered Mosh resistance.
Galen called Tad, “Hey Three, where’s the Mosh armor? I’m getting bored.”
Tad called back, “Sorry, Six. Their armor is hung up on a pocket of Mandarin resistance, in a town about forty klicks west of you. It could be a couple of days.”
“All right. That bridge wired to blow?”
“You know it.”
Galen said, “That’s it then. We’re withdrawing.”
“Gotcha. Sending the orders now.”
Four Mosh fighter-bomber aircraft dove and strafed. Galen ducked inside his tank and heard fragments from a bomb dropped nearby spatter the side of this tank. He then stood and saw three of the fighter-bombers smash into the sides of tall buildings. The fourth one climbed and was shot in the ass by half a dozen laser cannons and burst into a thousand pieces. Galen surveyed the area around him and saw no significant damage to his troops. He set his cupola gun to acquire and fire at incoming artillery, knowing the Mosh aircraft had likely reported the location of his units. He then buttoned up and listened to the noise of artillery shells bursting far overhead, taken out before they were close enough to do real harm.
The withdrawal was slow and deliberate, the perimeter slowly shrinking like a collapsing balloon as the task force units made their way back across the bridge. Some Mosh tried to peruse, but the Ajax tanks were on the east bank of the river overlooking the bridge.
Galen crossed last and then moved to the side and faced back toward the bridge. He called Tad, “We’re out.”
Tad said, “Not bad. We lost three tanks and eighteen troops over there.”
“Yes. Take down the bridge when you’re ready.”
“Roger. But it just won’t be the same without a column of Mosh armor on it.”