had willed it so. How long would it take before such tanks dispensed with their human crews and highly advanced artificial intelligences did the job?
Rubbing his sore jaw, Colonel Wilson watched the screens as if they showed the Super Bowl with his favorite team, the quarterback daring to sprint for the end zone, with the opponent’s most brutal safety heading straight at him.
“Hit!” the comm-officer shouted.
On a screen, Wilson watched a cruise missile explode, the fiery parts raining on a grove of nearby peach trees.
Eleven seconds later, Wilson groaned as he watched another Abrams blow up. Farther away, Strykers became burning hulks. The cruise missiles were so damned fast and agile against the Blowdart missiles. Fortunately, the Behemoth’s AI and the electromagnetic cannon were too good for them.
“How many more cruise missiles do they have?” Wilson asked.
The comm-officer was slow in answering. Checking his screens, Wilson couldn’t see that there were any more.
“SoCal Command just called, sir. It sounds as if that’s it for the moment.”
As he hunched over the screens, Wilson blinked furiously. Had they really survived the combined air and cruise missile assault? These tanks were amazing. It was incredible. “How…how are we doing on shells?”
“Our tank is down to forty percent ammo supply, sir.”
“Are the other Behemoths in a similar predicament?”
“I’m sure they are, sir.”
“Then we’re calling a halt, a short one. Some of those Bradleys survived. I want them to load us up to the gills. Then we’re continuing the advance to Riverside. I can’t believe it. These tanks work even better than I’d expected.”
“That’s good for us, sir.”
“Indeed,” Wilson said. “Now let’s get moving.”
Marshal Nung scowled at General Pi. They both stood around the computer table, witnessing the giant tanks shrugging off a combined air-cruise missile attack.
“What are your orders, Marshal,” Pi asked.
“We destroyed most of their attendants,” Nung muttered. He meant the Abrams, Strykers and some of the Bradleys. The giant tanks were beginning to feel invincible to him. How many of those tanks did the Americans have that they could just throw these away in a suicidal fury? Yet was it a suicidal attack? Clearly, the Americans attempted to thwart his advance toward Corona. What was the right move? Should he let the T-66s race ahead, or should he order them to turn south and destroy these five giant tanks.
“Sir?” General Pi asked.
“I dare not let the American soldiers run free into Los Angeles,” Nung said.
“Many have already left Corona, sir, heading for Fullerton, Anaheim and Pomona in the north.”
“I understand that.” Nung frowned for a time before saying, “Los Angeles is a heavily urbanized environment. I had hoped to destroy the American army before having to wade through the great city.”
“Begging your pardon, Marshal?”
“Yes, yes, give me your wisdom.”
“I do not believe we can allow the American tanks to run amok among our supply vehicles. Those tanks —”
Nung hung his head, and he shook it. He hated to give the order. He loathed the idea of turning back. He had never done such a thing in Siberia and during the Alaskan Campaign with the swift run across the Arctic ice…
“They are slow tanks,” Nung said.
“They’re fast enough if we cannot destroy them, sir.”
Nung slammed a fist onto the computer table. “Turn the T-66s. We must destroy these tanks first. Then we will race to Corona.”
“As you command, Marshal,” General Pi said, motioning to the chief communications officer.
Colonel Wilson fingered the microphone as he sat in the commander’s chair inside his Behemoth. He neared Riverside after enduring several air assaults and cruise missile attacks. Most of the accompanying vehicles were burning wrecks. Each of the five Behemoths had survived. They kept heading north toward the main enemy concentration near Riverside.
Several computer screens surrounded Wilson, giving him visuals outside and images from an Air Force recon UAV that sneaked onto the battlefield. The U.S. drone wouldn’t last long, but while he could, Wilson studied the situation from an aerial view.
The Chinese had burst through Riverside. Chinese triple-turreted tanks and IFVs charged toward Corona. Now, some of those T-66s had turned back, likely to engage his Behemoths.
He had to keep buying the U.S. Army time. Most of the troops freed from Escondido carried personal weapons and little else. That meant most of the heavy equipment remained in the pocket. The soldiers didn’t have the weaponry needed to face T-66s, not yet, anyway.
Wilson opened communications with the other four Behemoths. “Men, we’re too slow to run away. Otherwise, I might suggest it now that we have the T-66s turned around.” He closed communications because suddenly his throat was too dry to speak. He tried swallowing several times and finally twisted open one of the bottled waters. He sipped several times.
Clicking on the microphone, he said, “Sorry for the interruption. Men, it has been an honor serving with you. We helped create the greatest tank ever made. We’ve also shown the Chinese a thing or two I’m sure they hadn’t expected. Now, I don’t know about the rest of you, but there is not another, a finer company of men, of soldiers, that I would rather die with.”
There. He’d said it. They were going to die. There was no turning back with these slow monsters. Thus… thus…Wilson took another swallow of water.
“I have an idea, gentlemen. I mean to teach the Chinese a lesson that they will never forget. I mean to show them what Americans can do when they are good and pissed. I’m going to walk among their best tanks and proceed to kick their sorry asses from here to kingdom come. I’m going to use these Behemoths as they were meant to be used, and that is to ram my fist down their collective throats and make them gag.”
Wilson frowned. That sounded like a speech. He had been making those all his life. He couldn’t stop that even here at the gate to death. Well, maybe that was all right. He had been giving speeches and acting like a prick for far too long. Now he could redeem everything by fighting bravely and with deadly force.
“General Larson believed we had to defend Los Angeles by attacking here. Sometimes, gentlemen, life or God, I’m not sure which, hands you a shit job. We have such a job this time. We signed up as soldiers, and that means that sometimes you have to put your body in harm’s way. Well, I love my country. These aggressors are here to steal it out from under me. That means I’m going to fight until I’m dead or until I’ve driven them into the sea. I’m sorry for talking so much. I’m sorry for many things. I suppose I mean to make up for everything rotten I’ve done by laying down my life. ‘Greater love has no man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends.’ That’s from the Bible, gentlemen, the very words of God. We’re going to lay down our lives in the next half-hour. Let’s make sure we do it in such a way that we save our brothers so they can drive the Chinese into the sea.”
Wilson set down the microphone as a strange calm settled over him. He felt like a still lake on a perfect day, the sun a delight on the skin. One by one, his tank commanders called in, agreeing with him.
Afterward, near the city of Riverside, began the death ride of the Behemoths into the heart of the Chinese advance.
It began as long-range howitzers rained down a sheet of steel against them. The Chinese had seen their advance and likely they knew their route. Normally, that should have been enough to set up a perfect ambush. It didn’t work out that way this time. The howitzers attempted to pummel the Behemoths, but most of the shells never made it through the tank defenses. Those that did rained on reinforced armor. The Behemoths, unlike most modern tanks, had put as heavy armor on top as they did in front. It made for an extra-heavy and tall tank, but with this engine, it didn’t matter.
