Tasmanian SFG: Welcome to Hell Read online

  When we weren’t on guard duty we slept, making it a very short day. When the sun had gone down, I gathered everyone.

  “Today’s objective is to get to the top of this rise, to kill those at the top, and to hold the high ground for our brothers who will be here tomorrow. Any suggestions?” I asked.

  “I suggest we travel single file like we’ve been doing and attempt to avoid everybody until we reach the top,” Pete said. Everyone seemed to be nodding in agreement when I looked around the group.

  “I agree,” I said, “I'd imagine they outnumber us ten to one or better and we will be in a world of hurt if they hear us coming.”

  With Pete in the lead, we began a slow crawl up the mountain. We encountered no one for the first three hours and were about halfway before we saw our first natives. Pete was in the lead again and sent me a message.

  PETE: 3 Z 15 m ne.

  When Todd, the man in front of me, moved I noticed we had changed direction some fifteen meters to the northeast. I would have liked to kill those three, however at this point I knew nothing about how they communicated. They may have had some signaling method requiring them to check in every so often. Killing one or more could alert those at the top that they had an enemy on the hill. I was happy with my decision when only forty meters later Art encountered another group.

  ART: 2 Z 20 m e.

  And a minute later.

  ART: 3 Z 20 m w.

  I realized we had stopped because Art was awaiting my decision. It was obviously a risk for six of us to pass by unseen between the two groups, and an equal risk to kill one of the groups. I decided that if the risk were equal then it was better to get rid of a couple natives in the process and sent that message.

  LUAN: take van and kill the two on the east Side. Preferably with throwing knives.

  I laughed to myself. There was another risk—the sound of a suppressed shot alerting someone versus not killing the person quickly enough with a throwing knife to stop him shouting a warning. Five minutes later we began moving again, proving the value of the Tasmanians’ work ethic when they weren’t on assignment—anything less than perfect wasn’t acceptable.

  As I crawled past the two men several minutes later, one had a knife in his eye and the other in the back of his neck which would have cut the brainstem. That must have been the last line protecting the top of the hill as we encountered no more natives for the next hour and a half. We reached within twenty meters of the top about an hour before sunrise, and the sky was just beginning to show signs of the coming light.

  I shook my head in frustration. We had achieved what I had hoped—gaining the top of the gorge—but now I wasn’t sure whether it had been a good idea. If we attacked the top of the hill now while the Tasmanian main force wasn’t here to help, the natives’ entire focus would be on us. That could be more than one hundred against eight—not good odds. If I waited for the Tasmanian group to show up and then attacked, we could be caught in crossfire. I concluded life was much easier when I had only myself to worry about.

  I sat and closed my eyes, mentally going through my Gong Luan exercises to vanquish fear, indecision, not knowing the future… Sometime later my eyes opened and I found everyone staring at me. Shit. Little wonder. Right in the middle of an engagement their leader sits down and closes her eyes, when everyone else was ready to charge the enemy. Not wanting to make any noise and get discovered, I typed on my TCom:

  LUAN: Pair off. We will rush up and over the top, and explode outward in pairs.

  Everyone was looking at me with blank stares. I began pointing to people, one at a time, and then held up two fingers to indicate they were repair. And finally, to Smitty and me. Then I pointed to Smitty and me and the direction east. Then to Pete and Art and the direction northeast, Van and Isaac to the northwest, and lastly Cedric and Todd to the west. They nodded and smiled, which only a Tasmanian could do after having been given a suicide assignment. What could I do? I smiled back. Then held up three fingers, paused for a moment, folded my hand into a fist, and then began the countdown raising one finger… then two… then three!

  We burst over the ridge on to the top level, each pair looking to acquire targets. My eyes went to the edge on my left and I knew Smitty’s eyes would go to his right. He would then sweep left, while I would sweet right, precluding us targeting the same opponents until we hit the middle.

  I found five men sitting in a circle, weapons lying by their sides. The noise of us scrambling over the ridge alerted them to our presence, but they seem startled and were slow to reach for their weapons. I shot two before the other three dashed to get their weapons. Two more died as they rose with their weapons, and the fifth one as he brought his weapon to bear on me.

  Four more men came flying over the five dead men as if shot out of a cannon. All four had knives and were shrieking something at the top of their lungs. Going right to left, I managed to shoot two but knew I wasn’t going to get the other two in time as they were in the air, with their knives held high, and ready to strike. I could maybe get one but not both.

  I stepped my left foot over my right, which put the man on the far left slightly behind the man on the right and stepped into the man on the right as he came down. My shoulder hit him in the solar plexus as my two forearms caught his descending arm with the knife and knocked it free while jerking him into the man on the left. With both men dazed although still functional, I step back and shot them both with my Tavor.

  I looked up just in time to see a group of men raising their rifles in what looked to be Smitty and Pete’s direction. Not bothering to aim and knowing it was a waste of ammo, I clicked the Tavor on full automatic and sprayed from left to right. Two seconds later the gun clicked empty. I released the mag, slammed in a new one, and begin spraying the area again. By now Smitty and Pete were also firing. Suddenly, the area was quiet with only the sound of crashing water in the gorge.

  “Van, Isaac, watch our backs. Everyone else watch forward,” I said, expecting the natives below would have heard the noise, and would be coming up to help. I had no sooner finished the thought than they came in ones and twos popping up over the ridge. There must have been twenty or thirty of them, but they were hopping over the ridge in ones and twos and easy targets to pick off. When nothing happened for several minutes, I moved the six of us to the positions the Zinwe had made and prepared to scan the forest below for movement.

  “Anybody wounded?” I asked. Art, Van, and then Cedric raised their arms. “Todd, replace Isaac. Isaac, come check out Art, Van, and Cédric.” I looked over to Smitty and gave him a wry smile. “Smitty, can you check and see that all the natives are dead? I’d hate to get shot by a dead one.”

  “Hey, Fox, everyone’s patched up,” Isaac said as he slid up beside me.” Is that your blood or someone else’s?”

  “Hopefully, it’s native blood. How are the troops doing?” I asked.

  “Van and Cedric are going to need a few days off to recover. Art is functional in an emergency. See any natives down there?” Isaac asked.

  “A few, but with the Tavor at this distance, it would be a waste of ammo to shoot at them. They look like they’re sliding off to the west and will probably be gone by the time the Tasmanian main force arrives.”

  * * *

  The main force arrived midafternoon. From our vantage point on the ridge we could see eighty percent of the activity. The Zinwe would have had the overwhelming advantage from on top of the gorge.

  Howard sent me a TCom message.

  Howard: Status?

  Luan: All clear.

  Only minutes later, I could see a group of about eight advancing up the mountain. The sun was beginning to set as the group topped the bridge. As their eyes scanned the area, I could hear soft whistles and muffled expletives. After the fight we were tired and exhausted from the night’s activity and hadn’t bothered to clean up the area. As a result, there was a forty-meter crescent-shaped line of bodies numbering over eighty.

  “Impressive,
” Howard said, looking back to Smitty and me.

  “Yeah,” Smitty said. “The boys and I did all the work, and she’s going to take all the credit.”

  “Whine, whine. You want credit? Fuck up and I’ll give you all the credit.” I gave a wide smile to clapping and hoots.

  “Casualties?” he asked as his eyes searched the men in my group.

  “Three wounded,” I said. “They are not functional, but I believe they will make a full recovery thanks to Isaac.”

  It was true. Isaac was not only a good medic but he was able to prioritize—treating the most seriously wounded first but doing only the minimum before moving on to the next most critical. After he had treated all three men, he returned to each of the wounded men and finished making repairs. It been good training for me and I learned a lot.

  “We encountered very little resistance getting here,” Howard said. “The groups of natives you saw let us go by and attacked the supply line instead. What are you planning now, Luan?”

  “I guess it depends on what you’re planning next,” I said. “My immediate concern is getting the doctor’s opinion as to the condition of my three wounded men. Then a good meal and a rest, I think.”

  I wasn’t looking forward to the trek back down to the Rangers and army units where the medical tents would be set up. I was just about to start, when Howard stopped me.

  “Luan, stay put. I just spoke to General Wentworth. He’s planning on making this ridge a base camp, so doctors and food will be on the way shortly.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Planet Libian: What Next?

  “It sounded so easy,” General Wentworth said, banging his fist on the table where a map of the local area had been spread out. “Destroy the Zinwe or their ability to raid the cities bordering the jungle. But no one knows how many Zinwe there are or if they have a permanent camp site somewhere in the jungle or multiple sites. So how are we supposed to know when we destroyed them or their ability to wage war? We’ve killed…” He looked to the assembled commanders and waited for response. There were currently three: Howard commanded the Tasmanians, Major Lloyd commanded the Rangers, and Captain Peters commanded the army. At Howard’s request Finley, Clifton, Lacy, Sadler, and I were present.

  “One hundred and twenty,” Howard said.

  “Twenty-five,” Major Lloyd said.

  “Twenty,” Captain Peters said.

  “…One hundred sixty-five,” Wentworth continued. “Does that constitute destroying or negating the Zinwe’s ability to wage war on the cities? I doubt it. But what does? We can’t tell that without knowing how many Zinwe there are and finding their base camp.” He sat with an exaggerated sigh. “No wonder they’ve failed to stop them and hired us.”

  * * *

  “Well, Smitty, what do you think of Luan?” Howard said after the meeting broke up and only Tasmanians remained. At first, it seemed strange that he would ask anyone about me while I was present. But after I thought about it, we were not only family but also equal in rank and everyone’s opinion was important to the success of the Tasmanians. There were no secret evaluations.

  “Initially, I thought it strange giving a squad to someone who is new to the devils and unwise allowing her to act independently of the main unit,” Smitty said. “But you were right. We don’t have any stupid Tasmanians, but our training encourages us to think while we act. Luan likes to think before she acts. That makes her appear overly careful or afraid. But that’s not the case. It’s her training. A good example was when we reached the ridge of the plateau the natives were camped on. Typically, Tasmanians would have rushed over the top together and begun shooting. We would choose our firing lanes based on our many hours of training. Luan, however, designated four two-man teams and assigned each an area of responsibility: east, northeast, northwest, and west. That meant each team had an area of responsibility and there was no missing or double coverage. My point is that she thinks differently than us. And I’ll tell you, Howard, that was far more effective than our normal method. That was also evident in her team member selections. She asked me to find men whose primary function was scouting with two snipers, medical, and communications specialties. And look how well that turned out for our current environment. I say Luan is intuitive and thinks differently than the normal Tasmanian, and you were wise to recognize that and take advantage of her special talents.”

  “What about as a team leader?” Howard asked, his gaze intense.

  “It was obvious right from the beginning that she trusted each one of us to do our jobs. For the last two days, she and I were at the back of the line. The six scouts rotated into the lead position every half hour, and she wasn’t afraid to ask our opinion when a decision needed to be made.” Smitty laughed heartily. “After her current success, every Tasmanian is going to want to be in her unit.”

  “Thanks, Smitty,” Howard said. “We not only need to know every Tasmanian’s strengths and weaknesses but also their uniqueness if we’re to be successful.”

  “Howard has been a very successful leader,” Smitty said as we walked toward the mess tent that had just recently been erected. “In large part because he understands his people and there are no hidden agendas. Having me critique you while you were present is a good example. We’re a family and don’t keep secrets. If we have a bad apple, we get rid of it. If a person has a weakness, we work to strengthen it. And if a person has a talent, we use it.”

  Since I hadn’t had a good meal in two days, I stuffed myself. Afterward I found an empty bed and went immediately to sleep.

  * * *

  When I woke the gray light of dawn was just that. When I looked at my TCom, I had slept just over six hours. I had a quick wash and headed for the mess tent knowing I needed to eat as much as I could every chance I found. I noticed our meals was very sparse: slices of meat, mashed potatoes, powdered eggs, reconstituted milk, and coffee. Looking around, I saw Howard, Smitty, and a few of the men in my squad. I walked over to the table and sat next to Smitty.

  “Luan, how can you eat that shit?” Todd said, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

  “I’m on a diet,” I said, provoking snorts and laughs as I began eating.

  “Does anyone have an idea where we might find the natives’ camp?” Howard asked.

  “In the jungle,” Pete said to a round of clapping. “We saw all sorts on our trip here.”

  “Luan?” Howard asked with an amused expression as he watched me eat the last of my breakfast or whatever meal this was supposed to be. “Are you planning on going out tonight?”

  “I’m functional and will go out tonight if you want, but I’m a bit tired and thought I would rest tonight,” I said and Smitty gave a hearty laugh.

  “That’s another way that Luan is different, Howard,” Smitty said, grinning. “No male Tasmanian would admit he was tired.”

  “True,” Isaac said. “The last couple of days have been exhilarating but exhausting. Not that I’m tired.”

  That was greeted with laughs and banging the table.

  * * *

  I wandered the camp after leaving the mess tent and heard my name being called. When I looked around I saw Shirley and Clare running toward me.

  “Jolie! We’ve been looking for you for the past few hours,” Shirley said as they neared. “Rumor has it you and your seven-man squad cleared this ridge of over one hundred natives. You’re becoming the most talked about person in the army.”

  “Hi, Shirley, Clare,” I said, happy to see the two Rangers. We had become close over the past year. “We caught them napping and the number was closer to ninety.”

  “A hundred sounds better,” Clare said, grinning with amusement. “Now that you are a squad leader what rank does that make you?”

  “Whatever rank the rest of Tasmanians are.” I shrugged. “Because most organizations are structured in a hierarchal manner with every person reporting to someone, we create titles for each position in the structure. In the military that’s rank. But the Tasmanians have
no hierarchal structure as we are all equal—”

  “That can’t be!” Shirley said, giving a sharp shake of her head. “Are you telling me that you and Howard are equal?”

  “No. He’s a man and I am a woman. He is twice my age. He’s been with the Tasmanians for fifteen years while I’ve only been with them for a year. But he and I have the same base salary and are equally eligible for each position on a given assignment. For each assignment a small committee designates the company commander. He then designates the platoon commanders, who designate the squad commanders, who then designate the individual members for his or her squad. Today I’m a squad leader but tomorrow I could be a platoon leader or a member of a squad. Everyone, including the company commander, is selected based on their previous experience and specialties. Therefore, our position on any given assignment depends on the nature of the assignments and who is selected as a company commander, since he determines who the platoon commanders, et cetera, and the reason we have no rank.”

  “Sounds complicated,” Clare said, frowning in thought. “You could be a lieutenant on one assignment and a private on the next. Wow, the system is totally performance-based. Your next assignment is always based on your previous performance.”

  “What happens if two squad leaders want you?” Shirley asked while nibbling on her lip.

  “The individual gets to decide which squad he would like to be on.”

  “Why would anyone want to be a commander?” Clare asked, looking at Shirley.

  “They don’t.” I laughed. “What’s new with the Rangers?”

  “It alternates between boring and frustrating,” Shirley said. “Boring because only a few hands are doing all the work, and frustrating because our encounters with the natives are hit-and-run.”

  * * *

  The next day was eerie quiet and nobody spotted even one native. Around midafternoon Wentworth called a meeting of the company and platoon commanders, which Howard insisted that I attend.