War Machine: The Memoirs of a Synthetic Marine

Episode 37

Give ‘em The Beans!

The radio crackled. “Hey, check out the assault force!” I glanced over to where the bulk of the shuttles had landed and saw rookies collecting into what I could only describe as a swarm. A massive mob, which seemed to contain every rookie on the mission.

It looked like Command was going to send inexperienced troops to attack hardened enemy positions, head on, in a single mass. I couldn’t imagine why they thought this was a good idea, but the wizard’s words about Command’s sudden shift to “speculative strategies”, now seemed prophetic.

Something else caught my attention. I could just make out a swirl of smaller forms moving among the mass of rookies. It looked like a pack of dogs running excitedly around and through the assault force.

They couldn’t be biological dogs, since there was no atmosphere on the troopship to support carbon-based life. Oddly, these dog-bots seemed to be wearing small backpacks.

“Does anyone else see dogs in the assault force?”, I asked over the radio. Now, everyone in our group began peering across the snowy expanse at the assault force.

Before anyone could answer, someone yelled out. “They’re going in!” The rookies, along with their doglike companions, took off towards the enemy lines, surging forward in a single irregular mass. There was no discernable organization to the assault, and there had been no preparatory artillery barrage to soften up the enemy defenses. Another Marine summed the situation up succinctly, “It’s a goddamn suicide charge.”

Kam came over the radio. “Listen up everyone! If you want to get off this planet with your control modules intact, you will do exactly as I say.

We’re moving out with the assault force. ‘A’ squad is going to close that buffer zone down to about 100 meters. ‘B’ squad will stay on our 7 o’clock position and maintain about 100 meters separation. This way there are no gaps for the enemy to exploit and we can provide mutual fire support.

I watched as the mass of rookies rushed towards the enemy lines. We needed to move now, or we’d be left behind.

“Move out!” Kam ordered the advance and ‘A’ squad took off, leaving white clouds in their wake as they churned though the powdery snow.

I waited anxiously for them to get 100 meters out before ordering my squad to advance. “B squad, let’s move! ” I had the surreal feeling that I was outside of myself, watching from a distance, as I ordered the squad into combat.

With me in the lead, we accelerated until we hit maximum speed, which for a combat bot, was just over 70kph. Even though we were now part of Command’s ill-advised suicide charge, it was exhilarating leading Marines into battle. For the first time, I felt no fear in combat.

The massive assault force could be seen in the distance, to our 2 o’clock. Shrouded in a cloud of billowing snow, it resembled a fast-moving blizzard as it closed in on the enemy lines. We closed the gap to the assault force to within 100 meters.

The map in my HUD showed that we were now a little under one kilometer from the enemy lines and we began to see the first indication of the enemy’s presence. A swarm of recon drones passed over the battlefield, perpendicular to our route. The enemy was undoubtedly assessing our strength and disposition in the battle space.

We still had a lot of ground to cover, and defensive fire would commence shortly. If we were caught out in the open, we would be cut to pieces by the enemy. The map showed a line of low spots ahead and to our left. They looked like trenches. If we could reach those before the enemy’s artillery opened up, we’d stand a chance.

I radioed Kam, “We’ve got a trench line about 300 meters out, at our 10 o’clock. The enemy’s going to light this place up any minute. We should get over there ASAP.”

He immediately responded, “Roger that! Lead the way.”

I changed course towards the trench line. Kam and the others did the same. Before we could reach the relative safety of the trenches, the shriek of incoming artillery filled the air. It was clear that we weren’t going to make it in time, so I improvised.

Aiming my grenade launcher at the snow approximately 50 feet in front of me, I pulled the trigger. A highly explosive grenade hit the snow, blasting out a large depression, perfectly sized for one Marine.

Just as the first enemy rounds began to explode, I dove into my instant foxhole and stayed there until there was a lull in the explosions. Braving a peek outside, I saw the terrain had been totally transformed by the artillery barrage. Whereas before, it was a flat snowy plain, it was now a jagged landscape of deep black craters and dirty mounds of earth and snow. So much destruction in such a short span of time.

Surveying the apocalyptic scene, I began to see the heads of other Marines as they peered cautiously over the rims of shell craters, which had become their makeshift foxholes.

Kam got on the radio. “Everyone, move to the trench line, now!

There was a quick headcount after we got to the trenches. Miraculously, we’d lost only three Marines to enemy fire. A handful of others had been hit by shrapnel, but the damage was not critical.

From the relative safety of our position, we could see the assault force pressing its attack. The enemy artillery must have damaged it, but it was impossible to judge how badly, since the main force was still obscured as it plowed through the powdery snow.

The enemy lines were now visible. Low mounds in the distance, which stood out from the surrounding terrain. Telltale glints could be seen from time to time, as the weak sunlight of Proxima Centauri b reflected off optical sensors in the heavily reinforced enemy positions.

“Alright, we’re going to wait here for a bit. Our assault force is going to get pounded by the enemy. But when the enemy counterattacks, we’ll hit them on their right flank. They won’t be expecting it, and if we can cause enough confusion, it might give what’s left of the assault force a chance to regroup and withdraw.”

Kam pointed at me. “Outline! Take your squad and move up about 100 meters, then wait for my order to attack.”

I nodded and took my Marines through the trenches, a little closer to the enemy defenses, to wait for the attack. From here I could see our assault force as it reached the enemy lines. I wasn’t sure what I was watching, but it looked like the smaller ‘dog-bots’ had separated from the main force.

They swarmed into the enemy positions and disappeared from sight. Soon after, explosions could be heard, as one reinforced enemy position after another, erupted in a geyser of earth and snow.

The explosions moved along the enemy lines obliterating their defenses. There was a noticeable reduction in the volume of enemy fire. Connecting the dots, I realized the dog-bots were in fact, suicide bots. And what I thought were innocuous backpacks, were instead powerful explosive charges.

It now made sense why Command ordered us to maintain such a generous buffer zone. With such indiscriminate weapons on the battlefield, friendly fire was a real concern.

I notified the others. “Be advised, those doglike things are suicide bots! Keep your distance.”

Kam acknowledged, “Roger that. Everyone, be ready to move out as soon as the enemy counterattacks.”

After seeing how effective Command’s new tactics seemed, I wasn’t sure the enemy would be able to counterattack, but prepared to attack anyway.

Movement directly in front of us signaled the enemy’s counterattack had begun. Enemy bots surged out of their defensive positions to attack the assault force’s flank. It was exactly what we were here to prevent.

Kam yelled, “Give ‘em the beans!” Unfamiliar with the phrase, I hesitated briefly until a sudden burst of fire from our group clued me in. Opening up with both my 30mm autocannon and grenade launcher, I began lobbing explosive rounds downrange.

Thanks to the element of surprise, our small attack group was punching above its weight, as a stream of withering fire ripped into the enemy force. Bots exploded, scattering parts over a wide area.

Those who survived our opening salvo aimed their weapons in our direction in a vain attempt to return fire, but they were violently preempted. A few quick-thinking enemy soldiers fired at the snow-covered ground to create some instant cover. Those who were both lucky and fast, disappeared from view as they burrowed underground. The enemy force in our immediate vicinity had been destroyed, disabled, or had fled. It felt like we’d done our job.

Kam got back on the radio, “Marines, move up!” On his order, we left our positions and began moving towards the wreckage we’d created. It looked like some kind of combat-bot junkyard.

To the untrained eye, some of the inert enemy bots strewn about appeared undamaged, as if they’d simply been switched off. However, closer inspection revealed small holes in their body armor from which emitted lazy curls of smoke. Armor piercing incendiary rounds had cooked these bots from the inside out.

Our battle orders had contained no intel on what type of enemy we were up against, so I was relieved to find no evidence of biological enemy soldiers among the heaps of robotic body parts. However, it was still disturbing to witness destruction on such a massive scale. The carnage was a fitting symbol for the futility of a seemingly endless war.

Kam barked, “Get some grenades down these holes ASAP!” He wasn’t about to let the still burrowing enemy escape to fight us another day. Except for some cleanup, it seemed the fighting was over for the moment.

Off in the distance, to my right, I could see what remained of the main assault force. They roamed the destroyed enemy positions, looking for damaged enemy bots to finish off. It seemed that only a small fraction of the original massive swarm had survived the fighting. What an incredible waste.

I saw none of the small dog-bots, which I reasoned was a good thing. Disarming and transporting explosive suicide-bots back to the ship would have been incredibly risky.

Even though it seemed we had crushed the enemy in this encounter, in my opinion the cost in Marines to accomplish this couldn’t possibly be sustainable … or justifiable.

As the stress of combat dissipated, I finally had the bandwidth to think about Cherri. I was really looking forward to seeing her and hearing her thoughts about what we’d witnessed today.

I approached Kam to ask when we could expect to be transported back to the ship. He answered, “Mil-net’s down, so it could be a while.” Then he said, “Let’s check on the surviving rookies and see if they need any help cleaning up. They took a hell of a beating today. I can’t believe that any of them made it through, but they did. And they kicked ass.”

I wasn’t sure who’s ass got more of a kicking, but I sure was curious to meet some of these rookies.

Kam gestured to me to follow him. “Come on. Let’s get go shake some hands.” As we started on our goodwill mission to congratulate some rookie Marines, he got on the radio and told the others to continue their cleanup work while we were off visiting.

Anxious to see Cherri again, I asked him if he had an ETA for our evac shuttle.

“What’s the hurry to get back to the ship anyway?”

“I’ve got a friend who was in one of the shuttles protecting the right flank of the assault. Just want to check in with her, that’s all.”

He asked for her name. When he found out it was Cherri, he said he’d check with Command when the comms were back online, and see if they knew her status. Knowing that Kam was going to check up on her lessened my anxiety momentarily.

Approaching a lone rookie, Kam pulled out his AUX cable and held it out to the Marine. It was the universally accepted request for a comms link, and the only way for Marines from different squads to communicate on the battlefield. The normal response to such a request would be for the Marine to take the offered cable and plug it into a comms port.

Strangely, this rookie just stared at him and didn’t acknowledge the gesture. Kam moved closer and extended his hand further. The Marine responded by raising his weapon to the ready position and taking a defensive stance. Kam took a step back, apparently confused by the aggressive move.

It seemed to me that we could be dealing with a Marine that was suffering some kind of mental health crisis. After all, these untrained rookies had just experienced combat for the first time. It did funny things to some people. I felt like we should find some other way to kick off our goodwill mission.

However, before I could communicate my concerns to Kam, he approached the soldier again. This time reaching for the access panel that held the comms port with his free hand, while attempting to insert the AUX connector with the other.

The Marine’s reaction was machinelike, reflexive. In a blur, it stepped back, shouldered its weapon, and fired a short burst. Kam’s head exploded, showering me with fragments and hydraulic fluid.

“Oh fuck!”