all they were capable of, but he knew that they would not have such luck. Hatches at the rear of the vehicles struck the beach as they continued, and then they saw them, just as Taylor’s report had said. The massive creatures stepped out as the tanks continued forward.
“We’re gonna need air support,” said Green.
“Remember, no contact unless we are engaged,” Jones ordered.
“You think these bastards have come for a picnic?”
“Command will be seeing what’s going on, they’ll do whatever they deem necessary.”
“Yeah, while we get our balls blown off!”
Jones turned back to the incoming alien forces and watched as the last of the steel monsters clambered out of the vehicles. They were not graceful creatures, but he could only watch in awe at their striking image. Eight of the armoured soldiers exited from each of the six vehicles. Forty-eight against the battalion’s almost seven hundred men were the sort of odds that any soldier would like, but not here.
The vehicles suddenly came to a close and the massive soldiers spread out between them. It was if they had stopped to admire the view, looking around in every direction. To Jones they were the aliens, but he realised to them, everything on Earth was alien. As the soldiers stepped from the hard wet sand of the waterline, they began to sink into the sand.
For a moment the Captain thought the enemy had underestimated the terrain, and a few of his lads began to laugh. Seconds later, the armoured soldiers pressed buttons on their suits and giant webbed feet extended from their spring legs, giving the same effect as snow shoes, expanding their surface area. The men of the platoon laughed no longer, they were quickly learning that this was not an enemy to be taken lightly.
“What do we do, Sir?”
“Absolutely nothing, Green, this is their move.”
The enemy surveyed the line of mounds and dunes where the battalion was set up. It was fairly clear that they had spotted the troops, what was uncertain was their intentions. Guns began to rise from the roof sections of the tanks, but they were comparatively small for the size of vehicles. As the guns locked into position the vehicles started to roll forward, the soldiers between them. Then without warning, light erupted from their weapons.
Huge pulses of light landed around their positions, they could feel the heat from each blast even ten metres away. For whatever technology they did have, targeting equipment did not seem to be their strong point.
“What do we do, Sir?” screamed Saunders.
“Hold!”
An explosion ripped down the line of defences in the platoon next to theirs. One of the rounds hit a man square on and blew his body apart, cauterising the bloody wounds in the process from the immense heat. Smoke arose from the body as one of his comrades screamed in pain from a lesser injury.
“Fire!” shouted Jones.
The beachhead erupted into a constant bellowing of gunfire. The accurate shooting of the para boys would have flattened a human wave attack, but the metal monsters continued forwards. The cannon-like turret mounted weapons on the vehicles fired in a slow but almost continuous barrage. Two of Jones’ platoon were hit by rounds from enemy fire. Over the gunfire he could already hear the screams for help and the cries of pain, he could do nothing about it, they needed every gun firing.
One of the alien soldiers stepped ahead of the rest and he was immediately targeted by half the battalion’s gunfire. The amount of metal smashing into his armour forced the creature to a standstill, until finally it collapsed through injuries sustained.
“That’s it, boys, take them down!”
The enemy tanks began to gain pace and were now within just a hundred metres of them. Jones turned to see his company commander running down the lines. Three of his platoon were dead and two more wounded.
“Get the ARMALs into action!”
They all had radio comms, but Jones knew many of the men would be too distracted by the fire fight and their fallen comrades to listen to any commands given. One of the men a few metres to his side lifted the device onto his shoulder and took aim. Before he could fire he was hit by one of the enemy weapons, taking half his face off and rendering the weapon useless.
Jones dropped back gasping at the slaughter around him. He turned to the other two men who lay against the embankment with the launchers.
“Get up there and fire!”
The Captain pulled himself up to survey the situation and lifted his rifle into view. Four of the creatures lay dead or at least incapacitated on the sand, but it was a small relief compared to the casualties of the battalion.
The first ARMAL fired, a large smoke plume erupting from the launcher. The rocket soared towards the first vehicle at high speed and smashed into it. The round ignited into a huge flash as it struck. The vehicle continued on through the smoke cloud, its armour scorched and torn. The men could see that they had damaged it, just not enough.
Looking down the line of paras, Jones could already see that the other platoons were putting their launchers into effect. Seconds later three launchers fired almost in sequence at the same vehicle. The second caused it to burst into flames and draw to a halt. The third padded through the gaping hole in the armour and must have finished off whatever was controlling the vehicle, as no one made an attempt to escape.
Cries of victory and excitement rang out across the line of defences as the men threw their arms up in the air and shouted abuse at their attackers. The enemy didn’t seem fazed by the destruction of their vehicle and continued on towards the soldiers.
“Alright, reload and give them all you’ve got!” shouted Jones.
Major Stewart, Jones’ company commander, ran up to their position and threw himself onto the embankment beside the Captain. His ear was bleeding and his radio earpiece was hanging loose.
“Are you okay, Sir?”
“The Colonel is dead, Captain, HQ staff with him!”
The Major was shouting, his hearing was blown and he was still in a state of shock, perhaps disorientated as well.
Jones looked quickly back over the defences and fired three bursts at the nearest attacker. Smoke trails let out from along the lines as every platoon tried to take out the enemy tanks with their ARMAL launchers. He looked back to the stricken Major.
“Who’s in charge of the battalion, Sir?”
“I am, Captain! What do I do?”
Jones looked down at the Major, his hands were empty. He reached across to one of the bodies of his fallen men and tugged the rifle from the dead soldier’s hands. He thrust it into the clutches of the Major.
“Get up there and start shooting!”
The Captain returned the same target he’d been firing at, the armoured beast was now staggering, its leg armour damaged. He let out several well-aimed bursts at the mirrored section of what he thought was its face, just as Taylor had advised. A gunner beside him targeted the same spot with sustained fire from his BRUN gun, the glass-like section shattered sending the Mech stumbling into the sand in a crumpled and twisted mess.
A pulse of light flashed past Jones’ head. He ducked but was fortunate that it was already off target, the heat of the shot singed his face and eyebrows. He turned to see Saunders cradling his arm to his side. His batman was wounded and his armour and clothing were smouldering. He had no sympathy for the man, not when their friends were dying around them.
“Saunders! Get your arse up there and keep fighting!”
He crawled up to the top of the embankment to see the carnage of the battlefield. At least fifteen of the Mechs were now destroyed, but he could see dead and wounded men all along their defences. The enemy were just thirty metres from their position and still approaching at a steady pace.
“Grenades!” he shouted.
Every man in the battalion carried two grenades. The high explosive fragmentation grenades had a blast radius of five metres and were highly effective against the regular infantry armours that Earth forces used. Jones drew out his first grenade and twisted the firing mechanism, looking around to see others doing the same before quickly throwing it as far as he could. Ducking back behind cover, he waited and hoped.
