Explosions ignited all along the line of the attackers. Seconds later they were joined by bellowing shells from the north, far louder than anything on their battlefield. Jones turned to look to the north, but the land obscured his view. Over and over they heard cannons firing.
“It’s the 2 ^ nd Armoured!” shouted Green.
The men wanted to cheer, but they were too distracted by the enemy closing in on them.
“Alright, boys, give them everything you’ve got!” Jones ordered.
He twisted the trigger on his second grenade and threw it over the top, immediately lifting his rifle and opening fire. The battalion brought its full weight to bare, grenades, ARMAL launchers and machine guns. Despite the hailstorm of bullets and rockets, the Mechs continued to fire. Explosions erupted all across the sands as the tanks were punctured and set on fire, the armoured soldiers crippled and destroyed.
Finally, the beach went silent, only the heavy guns to the north continued to roar. Captain Jones stood up on the embankment and looked down the length of the defences. He could see medics working desperately to patch up and save the wounded. There were six dead in his platoon alone and several wounded.
“Saunders, get onto the Brigadier, inform him that we have held the beachhead but sustained heavy casualties!”
He looked out to the burning wrecks of the vehicles and the collapsed armoured soldiers around them.
“The rest of the platoon with me!”
Jones released the magazine from his rifle, slipping in a new clip as he walked cautiously. He lifted his rifle to his shoulder and kept it ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Black smoke bellowed from the flames of the vehicles, but they were fortunate that the winds blew it south.
“Shoot anything that moves!”
He carefully walked up to the first Mech’s body. It was on its back with one of its legs buckled from an explosion, likely from a grenade. Staring at the armour more closely, it was not as crude as first thought. The design work was brutish and harsh, but the quality of construction was fine engineering.
Kneeling down beside the body, he rested his hand on the metal work. It was smooth, as if highly polished, yet the finish was quite dull. He tapped it with the plated knuckles of his gloves. It was thick, he guessed about ten millimetres. He lifted one of the lifeless arms of the suit and it was surprisingly light. He could only imagine that the metal was of an unknown material.
The Major turned back to look at the positions they had fought from. There were craters all along the embankments and scattered bodies. His curiosity about the enemy was over, all he cared about was that they were dead. He moved back to the defences as gunshots rang out behind him. The last few living Mechs were being finished off with no mercy.
He stopped next to an army medical corps officer who was attending a wounded man. The enemy’s energy weapon had burnt through the flank of the chest section, taking some of the man’s flesh with it. Major Stewart sat near them with his head in his hands.
“Major, what are the total casualties?”
The officer said nothing, not even turning to look at the Captain.
“Major!”
The doctor turned and answered the question himself, understanding the state of shock Stewart was experiencing.
“Reports so far for the battalion are ninety-five dead, thirty-six wounded. These weapons don’t leave many casualties.”
Jones shook his head. Their unit had never lost more than three soldiers on any operation in the last ten years. The officers in charge of the other companies strolled into view, their faces were wrought with despair. They were led by Major Chandra, a bold woman, and the only female to lead a company in the parachute regiment.
“Captain, The Colonel is dead, we’ve also lost quite a few other officers and NCOs.”
“Major Stewart is unfit for command and I have relieved him, with his permission.”
Chandra nodded, it was the worst day of her illustrious career. Never could she have imagined so much carnage among such a fine troop of soldiers.
“You are now commanding D Company?” she asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then I am making you Acting Commander of D Company. I am the senior officer left here and am assuming command of the Battalion.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“We’ve faced a shit storm here, Captain, but we cannot afford to slack and lick our wounds. Assign a replacement to command your platoon, have your troops salvage any ammunition from the dead and start digging in.”
“Sir!”
“What the hell is that?” shouted Green.
Captain Jones turned to look out into the Atlantic. He was squinting to make out what was behind the trailing black smoke plumes from the wrecked vehicles. He raised his binoculars not believing what he could see. On the horizon he could make out the same blurred outlines of the enemy amphibious tanks steaming towards the shoreline. They were just thirty minutes out at the most, and in greater numbers.
“My, God!”
“Keep firing!” shouted Kelly.
The MDF men stood in three lines firing repeatedly at the metal monsters as they went around the corner of the narrow corridor up ahead. Two of the Mechs were already down. In the close range they could concentrate their fire well against single enemies, although they had little cover. Their comrades lay strewn among the dead civilians in every area of the colony. The third armoured soldier before them dropped lifeless to the deck.
“Sir, we must fall back!” shouted Private Lewis.
Kelly looked around the corridor at the carnage. A number of his comrades were wounded, many more were dead or dying in the ground they had already fought over. They had put up a noble fight and had brought down many a foe, but he knew they were fighting a losing battle.
“I will not give up our homeland!”
“Sir, we’ve already lost it, all that’s left are the people!”
The Commander looked around in despair, a small trickle of blood dripped down his worn and tired face where the impact from an explosion had knocked him against an interior wall. His face was black with dirt and sweat, he ached in every bone and muscle in his body. He was almost brought to tears, knowing that they had lost everything they’d fought for.
Commander Kelly had been in charge of the Moon Defence Force for twenty-two years, a role that he had inherited from his father. Never could he have imagined that he would have to concede it to a technologically advanced alien race, which appeared to want nothing more but to execute them all.
“Alright, fall back to the bunker!”
The Private looked relieved as he sent out the command to their forces. However, it didn’t completely remove the worry from his face. No one knew if surrender was even a possibility against the iron army they fought. The Commander turned and led his men back to the re-enforced blast bunker.
As he approached the lines of dead and dying lining the corridors confronted him. Anyone still able to hold a gun was stood or propped up outside the blast doors. The men did their best to stand to attention as the Commander went past them, but many were gritting their teeth under the pain of their injuries. Kelly smiled back at them in appreciation, desperately trying to hide his sorrow.
He went straight up to the comms officer who was watching the video feeds that were still operational. He rubbed his eyes and squinted to make out what he was seeing from the rooftop cameras.
“It’s Colonel Visser, Sir.”
Kelly studied the video intently. The Colonel was standing on the roof of the government building in his compression suit. He wore no weapons and only held one object, a white flag slung on an l-shape pole.
“What the hell is he doing? He’s surrendering, or trying to!”
“Maybe we should join him,” said Lewis.
Before Kelly could respond he watched as a glimmer panned across the screen, an enemy vessel in its terrain
