Operation Orion - Kevin Dockery [54]
Rocky Rodale released his G15 and hoisted the M76 Wasp with a four-round clip of rockets loaded in place. He fired them in quick succession, his steady hand and keen eye guiding each missile unerringly into a big, shaggy target. Those rounds, each of which packed the punch of a whole volley of grenades, literally blew the aliens to pieces, scattering blood and bits of skin, bone, and fur across a wide area.
By the time the fourth rocket struck home, the ambushers seemed to lose their stomach for the fight. Sanders didn’t know how many were left, but he saw at least four or five of them spin away, running on all fours as they pounced and leaped down the slope of the ridge to be swallowed quickly by the swirling murk of the stormy world. The officer momentarily considered ordering a pursuit, but a look at the flashes, tracers, and explosions in the valley showed that a furious firefight still raged down there.
“All right, SEALS!” the junior lieutenant snapped. “Lets boogie down this hill and see if the LT needs a hand!”
Smokey Robinson was in the lead again, at his own request, but Jackson followed his point man, staying about ten meters behind. All of his senses tingled, as he knew that his column of SEALS was coming into view of the unseen aliens hunkered down on the snowy heights to either side. He resisted the urge to study the heights, limiting himself to the occasional glances upward that might be normal for any reasonably alert soldier to make. He wanted to reach around to scratch the itch in the middle of his back where he imagined some hostile shooter drawing a bead, but there was no way to reach the spot.
As a result, it was almost a relief when the shit hit the fan up on the ridge where Sanders’s squad had taken position. The streams of tracers clearly showed that the SEALS’ G15s were finding targets, and the booming explosive blasts of the single-shot rifles proved that the enemy was armed and dangerous. Knowing that the eight SEALS up there would give the enemy on the left a lot to think about, Jackson ordered his men to focus on the ambushers up to the right.
Almost immediately, a series of flashes erupted from the snowfield where the second rank of attackers waited in concealment. Snow puffed nearby from the impact of the heavy slugs, and the SEALS of the first squad, together with the six armed drop boat crewmen, returned a withering barrage into the heights. Some of the men launched grenades, the missiles exploding in billowing cascades of snow, while others raked the slope with streams of 6.8-mm rounds from the G15s.
A new weapon chimed in suddenly from the enemy position, marked by the stuttering chatter that was unmistakably a heavy machine gun. Flames spewed from an unseen barrel that was at a right angle to their position. Jackson saw the line of impacts, clearly marked by flying snow, approaching him from the left and threw himself flat, his helmet and faceplate pressed into the snow, as the stream of bullets went past. He popped to his knees and fired a sustained burst at the place where he had seen the blazing barrel, though by then it had fallen silent and he could only guess its exact location. More spurts of flame indicated the long guns of the enemy infantry. They seemed to be single-shot weapons, but they fired faster than muzzle loaders.
“Harris!” the LT barked into his comlink.
“Right here at the back of the line,” the chief replied.
“Take your fire team straight up the hill. See if you can catch that machine gun nest in the flank. We’ll try to keep ’em looking at us down here!”
“We’re on our way, LT. Teal, LaRue, Falco, you heard the boss—move out!”
The four men of the first squad—the second fire team—moved away from the line of march while Jackson, Dobson, Robinson, and the six sailors continued popping away. The snow didn’t offer protection from the enemy’s big slugs, but it did provide concealment, and the men burrowed in as much as possible. The bullets continued to thunk into the rocky ground around them, each impact causing a shudder in the bedrock itself. Fortunately, the