"That was, until the Alpha company began to run low on ammunition. To their front was a gully, and the Posleen waves were, in part by accident, sheltered by said gully. The Reapers had used their grenades to good effect, but the resupply line had been partially flanked and was sustaining heavy interdicting fire. So, slowly, the company got lower and lower on ammunition until they were down to firing individual rounds.
"The Posleen, meanwhile, had through trial and error rediscovered the concept of 'cover' and the survivors were hunkering in the gully, popping up to fire a few rounds, and then hunkering back down.
"The situation was at an impasse; the company did not have the grenade rounds to destroy the Posleen and the Posleen had gotten tired of getting killed in the open.
"It was at that moment that our redoubtable leader made his appearance by running full tilt through the hail of fire that had already garnered three of the resupply personnel. Arriving at the Alpha Company lines he wandered down the slit trench, observing the goings on, until he reached the Alpha Company commander. That would be . . ."
"Craddock," Mike said, taking a gulp of beer.
"Captain James Craddock," Duncan continued, raising his glass. "Absent companions."
"Absent companions," everyone murmured.
"Captain Craddock related their predicament and noted that if they didn't do something, and soon, the Posleen would build up to where they had enough force to engage in hand-to-hand. And that would be . . . unpleasant. He requested that the supply personnel, the medics and techs basically, do whatever was necessary to support his operation, at whatever cost.
"Our esteemed leader, doing his notorious impression of the sphinx, then looks around, picks up a small boulder and rolls it down the hill."
"You could hear the crunch when it hit the horses," Stewart chimed in. "It was nearly as big as he is. . . . He looked like an ant lifting a big chunk of dirt. . . ."
"Then he turns to the company commander and says . . ."
"He who laughs last is generally the one that thought fastest on his feet," Mike said, taking a sip of beer.
"We edited for content and punch," Duncan said. "Using boulders from the surrounding terrain, Alpha Company then proceeded to play 'Bowling for Posleen' for the next few hours."
"Then we got our artillery support back and everything was hunky dory," Mike noted. "Artillery is what has saved this war. But I've noted that surviving these little predicaments is generally a matter of who comes up with the winning tactic at the last possible moment. You go in with a plan, knowing it's going to . . . go awry. And then you adjust. Whoever is the best, the fastest, at adjusting usually is the winner."
"We're very fast at adjusting," Slight said thickly. "And when I say 'we,' I mean the veterans in this room. That's why we're here."
Stewart raised his glass. "To those who think fastest; may they always be humans!"
CHAPTER 20
Rabun Gap, GA, United States, Sol III
2047 EDT Friday September 25, 2009 ad
"Cally, don't take this as an insult," Mueller said, leaning back from the table with a grin. "But you're going to make someone a great wife some day."
"It's not like I enjoy cooking," Cally said, with a shrug. "Well, not much. But if you want to eat up here, you have to do it all yourself."
Dinner had been a rousing success. Papa O'Neal had cut about ten pounds of moist, succulent pork off the pig, thinking that would be enough and intending to cut the rest up and freeze it for later meals. As it turned out, he had had to go back to the porker twice for more meat. In addition to the corn on the cob and cornbread, Cally had cooked wheat bread, a creamed green-bean casserole and new potatoes, all of which had been eaten. Dessert was pecan pie.
The children, stuffed to the gills, had finally been sent off to bed leaving only the "grownups"—Cally seemed to be included in that group—sitting at the table, picking over the remains of the meal while the CD player cycled in the background.
"I know what you mean," Shari laughed. "There are cafeterias in the Urb, but the food is really lousy; there are days I could kill to just call Domino's."
"I sort of remember them," Cally said with a shrug. "But the last time I ate fast food was the month that Fredericksburg was hit." She shook her head and shrugged. "We went on vacation down to the Keys and there was still a McDonald's open in Miami. We fix pizza sometimes, but it's made from scratch."
"None of the kids even remember fast food joints," Wendy said, pulling a piece of pork off the haunch Papa O'Neal had brought in. "Well, Billy and Shannon do, a little bit. But not really. They sort of remember the playgrounds and the meal toys. But that's about it."
"It all just went away so fast," Shari said quietly.
"It did that," Mosovich replied. "Wars tend to cause that sort of thing. Ask Germans of a certain age about how things change in a real war, or read diaries of Southerners in the Civil War. Gone With the Wind is a good example; one day you wake up and your whole life is gone. Some people adjust to it, thrive even. Some people just curl up and die, either in reality or inside."
"Lots of that in the Urbs," Wendy said. "Lot of people that just gave up. They sit around all day, either doing nothing or talking about when the good times will come back."
"Ain't gonna come back like of old," Mosovich said. "I'll tell you that. Too much damage. Hell, even the 'fortress cities' that they made out in the boonies are basically toast. A city is more than a bunch of buildings filled with soldiers. Richmond, Newport, New York, San Francisco, they're just hollow shells at this point. Making them cities again . . . I don't know if it's gonna happen."
"The interior cities ain't any great shakes either," Mueller pointed out. "We were up in Louisville a few months ago at Eastern Theater Command. Most of the people there were trying to get into the Urbs. At least the Urbs were set up for foot traffic; with the shortage of gasoline, getting around in cities is really difficult. Just getting to the store is usually a long hike."
"Especially with the weather being as bad as it's been," Shari said.
"What weather?" Papa O'Neal asked.
"Well, we get the reports down in the Urbs; there were record lows all winter. They're already talking about a new ice age from all the nuclear weapons."
"Huh," O'Neal laughed. "Can't tell it by me. If there was an ice age coming on, farmers would be the first to know. Now, the Canadian harvests were screwed up, and it probably was in part due to the China nukes, but even that has stabilized out."
"I can't really blame the Chinese, either," Mueller said. "Except for thinking they could beat the Posleen on the plains. Once they lost most of their army, slagging the Yangtze was the only way to keep the Posleen off the stragglers."
"Oh, hell," Papa O'Neal grunted. "They were slagging the stragglers there at the end. That way the Posleen would slow down to eat. And it's not like even that slowed 'em down, it only took 'em a month to reach Tibet. Hell, with all the antimatter and nukes we've built up, better hope we never get to that point; we'll end up glazing the whole eastern U.S. And probably to about as much use.
"But as to the weather, we're in a long-term aggressive weather cycle, but that's affected by a pod of warm water in the Atlantic and it was predicted before the invasion. Other than that, the weather's been fine. Great, this year. Rains just on time. Could have been a bit more, but then I'd be wishing they were a bit less."
"We're always hearing these terrible weather reports from the surface," Wendy said. "Record cold, snow in April, stuff like that."