John Ringo: Kildar

“This is an awful way to make a living,” Mike said, sliding to a halt and keying his mike. “Vil, engage.”

A burst of fire came from the far hillside, raking the Chechens that had nearly made it to the tree line. Mike could see a line of machine-gun bullets pock down the field and into the group which, at the unexpected fire, stopped and began firing back, most of them still standing. There had been about fifteen in the group when the fire started and the first burst killed more than half of them, spotting more bodies onto the green field.

Mike switched frequencies to the mortar freq.

“Peters, you have the field zeroed in?” Mike asked.

“I’ve got Reynolds up on the ridge, spotting for us,” the NCO said as there was a clap of explosion from a firing mortar. “We’re on it.”

The Chechens were caught between two fires, some of them taking refuge in the cover of the stream but most caught in the open field. A few broke towards the farmer’s house but they had barely made it ten meters in that direction when a mortar round went off over their head, scything shrapnel down into the group and throwing them all to the ground.

More mortar rounds fell in the main body, one of them hitting the ground between two of the Chechens and throwing their dismembered bodies through the air. The rounds quickly walked down to the streambed, however, shifting to airburst and slaughtering the mujahideen that had taken shelter in the cover of its banks.

In no more than five minutes, between the mortars and direct fire from both woodlines, there were no more Chechens moving on the field.

“Cease fire mortars,” Adams growled. “Team Vil, sweep the field. Team Oleg, up the hill again; make sure there aren’t any fighters left functional. Take prisoners if you can, but don’t let them get froggy. Colonel, if you could call Vadim in, please, to take charge of the prisoners.”

“On it,” Nielson replied.

It took far more time to clean up the mess than to make it, as usual. Vadim, along with a group of trucks from the Keldara, showed up about thirty minutes after the fighting was over. When he spotted Mike standing by the stream he walked over, shaking his head.

“How many?” he asked, looking at the bodies scattered across the field.

“At least a hundred and fifty,” Mike replied. “They’re scattered from here back up both trails,” he continued, gesturing in both directions. “There might have been some leakers, but not many.”

“And you did this with how many?” Vadim asked.

“Two teams,” Mike said, shrugging. “About forty. And some women to run the mortars.”

“Women,” Vadim said, shaking his head again. “The Keldara are tigers, yes?”

“Very much so,” Mike said. “Which gives me an idea.”

“You’ve done well,” Mike said, looking over the assembled Keldara militia.

They’d gathered the Chechen dead using the trucks and the few surviving mules and buried them in a mass grave at the end of the farmer’s field. Vadim had spoken to him about it but the man and his family hadn’t come out the whole time the Keldara were there.

When they got back to the barracks, Mike had the militia clean their gear and authorized two beers per man. The trainers had joined in, which was unusual, but Mike considered it in keeping with the action. The fight had been over before noon, but it had taken most of the day to clean up the battlefield, get back and clean their gear. When they were done, Mike had told them to take a day off and go home to their families. He hadn’t said anything to them except that they’d done a good job. The day off gave him time to get some stuff made up at the serai.

On the day after, he’d had them assemble in front of their barracks at 0900 for an address.

“Despite being barely into training, you met the enemy on the field of battle and defeated them,” Mike continued. “Very handily for that matter.” One of the Keldara from Vil’s force had been hit in the arm, but other than that and a few bruises from rounds hitting body armor, the teams hadn’t taken a single casualty. “Training will continue,” he said to groans. “But as of this moment, you are soldiers .”

He turned and waved towards the headquarters and the senior trainer for each of the teams came out, bearing new guidons. They were still blue, but instead of the name of the team being prominent, each of them now bore a snarling tiger face with the team name below it. Behind the trainers, a group of Keldara women came out bearing new uniform blouses. On the shoulder of each was the same patch.

“In keeping with that, I give you a new designation,” Mike said, as the trainers marched to the front of each team and traded guidons with the team leader. “You are no longer the militia of the Keldara. You are the Tigers of the Mountains. And we will show the world , that you had better not fuck with the Mountain Tigers.”