John Ringo - Eye of the Storm

“Very pretty,” Sergeant Moreland said. “Gist, think you could figure the counter fire trajectory?”

“Not sure, Sergeant,” the senior gunnery computer said. “I’d need a bit more data on scale. Off-hand, I’d say they were firing from two thousand meters. If that’s accurate, I could more or less determine their position. Give me any sort of compass or sight and I could do it for sure.”

“Which is the one of their many weaknesses,” Moreland said. “You can see the damned things. You don’t have to use a fucking computer and radar to figure out where they are. There arty works the same way, only from further away. Incoming is going to be Mark-One eyeyball time. Our shit is, comparatively, invisible. Keren, what is the most effective round we have for troops in the open?”

“Variable time or prox, Sergeant,” Keren replied automatically.

“Why?” Moreland asked.

“It throws out a wider dispersion of shrapnel,” Keren said. “More footprint equals more casualties.”

“This system has no shrapnel,” Moreland said. “If you’re not directly in that rather narrow footprint, or real close, you’re golden. Now, it’s a pretty serious footprint if it hits in our perimeter and anything in the footprint is, literally, crispy fried. But it’s a narrow footprint compared to shrapnel. Twenty five meters versus fifty. That matters .”

“It’s got one benefit,” Sergeant Richards said. “It’s like napalm. It’s very fucking scary.”

“Keren, you scared of this system?” Moreland asked.

“Very, sergeant,” Keren said.

“You gonna run if we’re taking fire?”

“Nope. Didn’t run at The Mall. Ain’t gonna run from no plasma artillery.”

“Scary don’t win wars.”

The rounds were small. Normally, mortar rounds were rather long and tapered with fins on the end and charges arrayed around the fins. The exception that Keren recalled was 4.2 inch mortars which used rifled barrels for spin stabilization.

These looked sort of like 4.2 with fins and a weird circular foot. They weren’t much longer than a 4.2. But they had nearly twice the range. And you could pack nearly twice as many into the track as 120s. On the other hand, if the ammo racks took a hit, the blow-out panels had better work or everyone in the track was going to be a crispy critter.

“Ready on the right? The right is ready. Ready on the left? The left is ready. Commence firing three rounds, contact, slow, tube mount.”

The mortar could be fired from either the tube or the breach. For automatic fire there was a reload mount that hooked to the breach. Currently it was stored and they were doing it the old fashioned way, dropping the rounds down the snout of the barrel.

The mortar had a weird sound to it. There was a super-sonic crack but it was muted. And over it was a sort of ZIIIP! and whine as the electro-drive shoved the round back up the tube. It sure as hell wasn’t the crashing explosion Keren was used to.

The effect downrange, though, removed any question he had about the mortar’s utility. The rounds were landing all around the decrepit bulldozer that was the target. Direct hits were ripping pieces off the construction equipment, which was rare to see with normal rounds.

The whole company had gathered for the first mortar live fire and Keren was glad it had gone well. Lay-in and targeting had used the computer adjustment system so it was about ten times as fast as normal. Altogether the system worked really well. He figured the CO brought the rest of the company to see that, yeah, mortars had their place.

“Cease fire,” Sergeant Moreland ordered. “Ensure clear on all weapons.”

“Okay, troops, this is why you’re really here,” Cutprice boomed from the range tower. “I’ve been pretty interested in the anti-artillery system these things boast. I want to see how they do against our mortars. I’ve obtained permission for the elimination of one standard AFV from inventory… ”

Keren stared in amazement as two brand-new tracks approached from the woodline. As he watched a figure jumped out of the lead track and hustled to the rear one. Unless he was much mistaken, it was the First Sergeant.

“Mortars, mount your automatic thingies,” Cutprice said. “Target the remaining track. Start with slow fire, Sergeant. On command, prepare to go to maximum.”

“This is gonna be interesting,” Cristman said, setting the gun for automatic adjustment.

“Tell me about it,” Adams said, locking the breach magazine system into place.

“Two gun, up,” Keren said over the communicator.

“Mortar section up, prepare for automated adjustment.”

The gun moved slightly to the side and the nose hunted upwards.

“Guns on target, closed.”

“All guns, fire three rounds, slow fire, manual, on command.”

“Three rounds, roger,” Keren said. “On command. Wait for it.”

“Fire one,” Moreland said.

“Fire!”

Adams dropped a round down the chute and took the next from Griffis.

“Fire two.”

“Fire.”

Clang, WHEET, crack.

“Fire Three. Cease fire.”

“They’re still in flight,” Keren said, popping his head up.

He was prepared to see the rounds drop on or near the track. Instead, there were lines of blue fire like bent lasers reaching upwards and twelve blossoms of fire from high overhead. The nearest they’d gotten, by his eyeball, is maybe a thousand feet above ground level. At that height, what you were going to get was a gentle patter of metal you had to brush out of your hair. A big chunk might hurt a bit. If you weren’t wearing a helmet. And it wasn’t going to fall near the target.

“Well, that is actually a surprise,” Cutprice boomed. “But I suppose if the Posleen could shoot down hyper velocity missiles, we should be able to shoot down some nice slow mortars. Mortars, I want you to fire nine rounds each just as fast as you possibly can. Let’s see if we can overwhelm the system.”

“Two Gun. Fire for effect, nine rounds, contact. On command… ”

“Two gun up.”

“Fire.”

This time all they could do was service the gun as fast as they could. Cristman took the right while Adams had the left, Griffis handing rounds to Cristman and Keren porting for Adams. The system, much like a WWII Bofors gun, permitted continuous feeding of the rounds and fired very nearly as fast. Without the heat generated by an explosive charge, the barrel could take rounds faster than they could be loaded. In no more than fifteen seconds the last round was away and they popped up to see what they’d wrought. Unfortunately, while the system cried out for a large capacity, exchangeable magazine, such a magazine would be too heavy to load.

The M576 mortar round had a small dollop of antimatter at its center and a bunch of notched wire surrounding it. With a casualty causing radius of fifty meters in contact setting, sixty on proximity, the explosion on direct contact could cut through light armor like paper.

And the puffs of smoke were getting closer. The sheer volume of fire was overloading the single anti-artillery system on the track. With 36 rounds headed its way, the system was having to hunt across the sky and the puffs came lower and lower until one finally impacted on the rear deck. The explosion was heavy enough to damage the anti-artillery gun and two of the next three rounds hit across the track, turning it into a mangled piece of very expensive metal.

“So we see the good news and the bad,” Cutprice said to the subdued company. As with any company of infantry, the mortarmen had been rooting for the artillery and the gun bunnies had been rooting for the anti-artillery system. Both groups had reasons to be happy and chastized. “The good news is that the system works. The better news is that, en masse, it will probably work even better. The bad news is that even mortars can overcome it if there’s enough incoming. The answer, gentlemen, is to make sure that all your M84 track-commander guns remain up , that commanders relinquish control to automatic at any incoming and that we maintain enough coverage that we can interlock fires. The system should also work against incoming anti-armor rockets. Keep it on auto unless you have an important target, commanders. Mortars, keep up your exercise. And keep in mind that the Hedren have a similar system.”