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Sevin’s voice came over the aux, “Move out slow.”

“Cautious advance, third herd.”

The light tank company moved forward slowly. The tank commanders stood in their cupolas and scanned visually for targets. The auxiliary gunners watched their main gun sights for opportunity targets. The drivers kept their vehicles on line as the company advanced. A schematic of the enemy tank destroyer came up on Galen’s auxiliary status screen. A low hull on a Christy chassis, a 100mm gun sticking out of the sharply-sloped glacis plate. The front armor was eighteen centimeters thick, enough to withstand a direct hit from the light laser of a Hornet on normal combat charge. The side armor was only four centimeters, a soft target for the Hornet’s laser cannon. The vehicle’s top speed rivaled that of the Hornet, but the tank destroyer had no secondary weapons, no commander’s cupola. Strictly an antitank weapon, the MS-100 crews would have no higher priority than killing the Hornet light tanks.

The tanks came on line with the fighting positions of the light infantry and stopped. An infantry Chief climbed up the back of Sevin’s tank and handed him a data cartridge. Sevin made a thumbs-up gesture. A few seconds later, symbols for enemy units appeared on Galen’s situation map.

Across the river, artillery shells landed among the destroyed infantry carriers. They couldn’t hit the infantry fighting positions; their trajectory was too flat to clear the low hill between them and the grunts. Galen imagined the commander of the enemy tank destroyer cussing out his artillery for firing too late. The artillery stopped. The marker for a six-gun battery of armored guns popped up on the situation map. 150mm guns, medium artillery firing from thirty kilometers away. The infantry would have to get within twenty kilometers to return indirect fire with their 85mm mortars. The panzer grenadiers could have easily returned fire at that range with their 120mm mortars if they hadn’t been shot all to hell while crossing the river.

“Move out.”

Light infantry squads clustered behind the tanks as they drove forward at a walking pace. Galen adjusted his cupola machine gun for the terrain and enemy situation. He reduced the projectile velocity to a thousand meters per second and increased the rate of fire to ten rounds a second. He also loosened the accuracy so that the spray of projectiles would hit within a circle three meters in diameter at a range of one thousand meters. He sent the programmed changes to the two tanks in third platoon. The status screen showed that the other tank commanders accepted them.

The platoon was heading up the side of the first low hill. Just as he was able to see over the crest, Galen ordered a halt and waved for the squad behind his tank to go ahead. Three troops moved ahead at a crouch and then crawled up to the top of the hill. Their leader signaled for Galen to go ahead.

Third platoon drove on, the squads walking behind the tanks. Galen checked the topography of the situation map. The pace of the operation was way too slow and tedious for him.

“Zero one, this is three zero, over.”

“Go ahead, three zero.”

“We need to go a little faster, over.”

“Tell me how, three zero, and we’ll make it happen, over.”

“Right. Let me cover from this high ground and have first and second embark their grunts and drive across the low ground for about three klicks. Second can take the high ground on the right and cover first and third as we move to the next hill.”

“Gotcha, three zero. Break. One zero and two zero, this is zero one. Did you hear three zero?”

“This is one zero, roger good copy, out.”

“Two zero here. Roger out.”

“Make it happen. Zero one out.”

Galen halted and assigned sectors for his two subordinate tanks to watch. He watched his sector as first and second platoon drove along the flat, low ground near the river bank. Soon second platoon was perched on the top of the low hill three kilometers ahead of third platoon. Galen signaled for his infantry support to mount up. Eight troops sat on the flat rear deck of his tank and three troops were on the glacis plate, half-standing with their heels on the spare track shoes bolted to the front. Boggs elevated the main gun so the coaxial machine gun wouldn’t be pointing at the back of a passenger’s head.

“Floor it, driver.”

The tank sped along the river bottom. The grunts had no trouble holding on. Any infantry troop who had anti-armor training would have no trouble holding on. Galen looked over his shoulder at the troop behind him “So, how do you like this?”

“Beats walking, Chief.” The troop’s face was smeared with camouflage the color of dark loam and tree moss. Instead of a standard pattern, there were alternating streaks a centimeter wide run diagonally across his face. The other troops had a similar pattern.

“What’s with the stripes of camouflage across your face?”

“We’re light!”

“I thought you were supposed to darken the high parts of your face and put a lighter shade in the recessed parts of your face, so it blends with your surroundings.”

“Well if you were light instead of a DAT you’d know better.”

Galen shrugged and faced forward in his cupola. The situation map showed that the tank destroyer was to the left, over the next low hill. Halfway up the hill, Galen halted his platoon.

“Dismount, troops,” he told the infantry Chief. The infantry jumped off the tanks and ran up the hill, changed to a low crawl near the top. They lay on their stomachs and looked over the crest. The infantry Chief signaled that he sighted a hard target. Galen had his driver pull ahead slowly. The infantry Chief gave ground-guide signals as best he could while lying on the ground. Soon he signaled “Stop.”

Galen stood in his cupola and could see over the crest of the hill and down to the bottom land beyond. He saw nothing but grass and water maples and crab apple trees. The water maples were thick by the river but only a single clump grew at the high end of the low ground between this hill and the next “Take charge, two three.”

“Roger out.”

Galen dismounted and walked over and squatted next to the infantry Chief. Tankers wearing combat suits generally weren’t too concerned about seeking cover. The bulky suit discouraged any dismounted movement other than slow walking.

Galen removed his helmet. “What is it?”

“That clump of concealment. Looks like a bunker to me. We got an oblique shot and they probably don’t know we have a tank here.”

“Okay.” Galen put his helmet on and walked back to his tank. Maybe the grunt Chief just didn’t like trees. Galen figured the discharge of a laser bolt at some trees wouldn’t hurt a thing. It was worth doing if only to make the infantry Chief feel better. Anyway, he’d crank up the charge to six to put on a good show. Galen climbed back into his tank and connected his commo cord.

“Charge six, Boggs.”

The diodes hummed as they brought the capacitors of the laser cannon to double normal combat strength.

“Up,” said Boggs.

“Ahead twenty meters and halt, driver.”

Jones pulled the tank forward. Galen had a full, clear view of the clump of water maples and the land sloping up behind it. He pointed at the trees on the monitor “Target, Sergeant Boggs.”

The laser pulsed. The lights and monitors in the tank went completely blank for three seconds. The reserve battery bank dropped to below fifteen percent of capacity and Galen’s cupola machine gun wouldn’t fire until the electrical subsystems came back on line.

Chapter Seventeen

The laser bolt took only a micro-second to burn through the screening, overload the ablative coating and push a blob of molten steel into the crew compartment of the tank destroyer. The water maples burned. Two three and three three pulled forward and fired their lasers at the dug-in tank destroyer. The steel bullets of their coaxial rail guns sparked as they glanced off the vehicle. A gout of sandbagged earth and vegetative camouflage blew into the air, the result of the main-gun ammunition inside the tank destroyer exploding. The 100mm gun drooped, its muzzle touching the ground. A pillar of black smoke rose from the destroyed vehicle. Rifle and machine gun ammunition popped and pinged as it cooked off inside.