Holy Ground Part 2

22 January 2027 2319 HRS
Frederic Bauer had his own demons haunting him, nothing quite so severe or long held, but they still bothered him, concerns about ammo, food and their armor, it had gotten dark hours ago, they had night vision but that did nothing for the bitter cold. If daylight had been bad this would be even worse, he didn't like that idea. He struggled to stay warm or awake, he would settle for either. Warm was better. He had ordered that all of his men wear their gas masks as protection, how much it would help, he didn't know. A loud burst of gunfire just to the North shattered the masonry above his head coating him in more dust. He'd gotten used to this, he wheeled around and fired in the general direction as the shots, the reaction, a pain filled scream told him he had gotten a lucky hit. "They must have some way of keeping warm." He realized aloud in a sudden burst of German. "Be ready to move." He ordered in English.
"Boss?"
"We're taking their heat. Scatter, make us harder to find and flank." He turned on the night vision in his helmet "Fall in 38th." Frederic Bauer checked his pistol; rifle and knife "Form up on me." He was the first one into the room with the wounded Sharie and behind him the others stormed in and up the stairs. He and the 3 others with him kept going on clearing the front rooms "Clear!"
"Left on me!" gunfire echoed through the house bullets pounded holes through the walls and a single hole emerged in the wooden ceiling above him, his helmet took a ricochet, and it threw off his aim just for a quarter second. It was all over in less than a minute, as Bauer came back through the front door the rest of his platoon rushed past the house, and he thought he saw something dog shaped run through the shadows as he looked out a broken window. A pair of shots from upstairs shook him into awareness. "What happened?" a body rolled down the stairs stopping at the bottom with a clearly visible center mass gunshot and that told him exactly what happened, "One of them was playing dead." A matter of fact voice told him everything. "They've got portable heaters and some old rations up here."
" Ser Gut. Bring it all down and dig in." Six Black Diamonds would need to hold a house. No problem. Frederic Bauer took a captured rifle, magazines, and grenades and waited. He didn't have to wait long. More small arms fire flew in through the shattered windows and smashed into the walls. Apparently they didn't have night vision they didn't hit anything despite being less than 50 yards away, "Spray and Pray." The same matter of
fact voice noted through the darkness, the simple solution was a grenade out the window. "Watch where you throw those…" the rest of the angry statement was cut off by the grenade blast.
"You could have killed us!"
"We're clear."
"We've got heat here. Digging in." a machine gun was quickly set up behind him out of nowhere and the two Diamonds carrying it and loose pieces of wood, and maybe a front door disappeared back into the dark almost as quickly. "Can we blow what we held back there?"
"We'll try boss. Timers?"
"Remotes. Draw them in and blow it."
"Not sure how much I've got for explosives." They were short on that too. Bad Intel.
"Snipers."
"We're still here."
"If you can, take out the tanks. "
A flurry of activity brought over 100 Black Diamonds carrying machine guns, ammo, food and any cover they could scavenge, to their new foothold, so far about 6 or 7 buildings. It was doubtful anyone was sleeping tonight. That was fine with Bauer he and the others needed the extra support, and that also solved the problem of heat, that many Diamonds that close together would provide some extra warmth.
A dull rumble from somewhere behind him told Frederic Bauer his command had managed to collapse the buildings they'd just abandoned. "Ser Gut 38th." He turned to see the dust cloud settling, that made the job a little harder for Sharia Al Saif and the Zulfiqar crews. They were the big problem.
"How did you take the buildings down?"
"RPGS and grenades."
Bauer was a little concerned, they'd just lost their primary anti-armor weapons, still they could and would adapt without too much of a problem. The bigger concern was the constant fire ripping into the roof, walls and breaking the boards they were using to cover the window.
Michael Delacroix entered a room alone. Big mistake. A blast from his Remington ripped apart the "Sharie" directly in front of him and he dropped to the floor. He kept going and through the smoke he saw another in full viper armor under a flight of stairs that would have led to a roof it hadn't been collapsed, he hesitated for a split second, unsure whether he saw an ally or an enemy.
Emery didn't.
Delacroix could hear the wrist bones breaking from across the room, the screaming changed into a choking gurgle after a throwing knife left his sleeve in a flat spin and hit exactly where it was intended to go, the gap between helmet and vest. The fighter staggered and crumpled against the back wall tripping over a chair as he fell and Emery finally let go of his arm, setting back down on all four legs. The dog turned right and was the first one around the corner. In the little Pashto Delacroix had taken it upon himself to learn he heard a pair of panicked voices yelling something like "Demon Dog." and gunfire hitting the walls, which meant they weren't hitting Emery.
He followed quickly leading with his shotgun, racking the next round and blind firing high as he turned. Like he'd hoped he didn't hit Emery but did make a mess of the Sharia Al Saif fighters, the air was filled with the smell of hot metal and tea, poured out on the floor from the shattered ceramic pots that had been on the broken kitchen shelf behind them. He patted his dog, stripped the bodies slumped against the wall of anything useful he could easily carry turned around pulled his knife out of the fighter's neck took his magazines, radioed "Clear. Food in here." and joined the rest of the fight. Emery had saved his life again. It was eerie to watch the dog's personality and behavior change in stressful situations and change right back on a second's notice.
He shivered as he exited the room both from the cold and because he saw for a second Cobra Blueshirts in the covered faces and literally seeing himself in the Viper helmet, both reminders of a past he wished he could forget. In the present this latest incident was a potent reminder of what Emery could do. More than a few of the Black Diamonds had seen it firsthand.
Former M.A.R.S Headquarters
15 November 2026
1422 HRS
Frederic Bauer stood in the distance and watched the exercise his unit was involved in. They were capable soldiers and so far Becker's comment was being proven true. They were winning. The 37th was led by good soldiers, ones far more experienced than the new recruits in his unit, but they were losing, that was probably due to his own veterans, as the 37th was a new unit too. Still he could be wrong, even veterans made mistakes. Here mistakes wouldn't get someone killed. Grefsheim was right, the former Cobra soldiers were reckless, and they made mistakes but always corrected them somehow. He'd also been right about their leadership abilities; Delacroix had the skills the training and the discipline to become a platoon leader someday, maybe even a unit commander. Bauer was impressed by what he'd seen so far from all of the new recruits, especially Emery, sure he was a dog but still he showed a remarkable lack of concern for his own safety or anyone but Delacroix's. That was a little bit of a problem, he didn't trust anyone but the man who'd pulled him from the snow field, he'd put on some weight in the past few weeks and was far more healthy than he had been, healthy enough to do something that surprised everyone.
The 38th didn't wear gas masks like the 37th, the one thing in this simulation that set them apart from their mock enemies. The rules were simple, sim munitions were like paintballs except they hurt more, they'd know if they'd been hit, if that hit was somewhere that would mean a fatal wound in real life they were out of the simulation. Delacroix was one of the first ones into the makeshift fortification that held the enemy flag, a simple red cloth on a flagpole. Simonov took a sim round to the face directly in front of him and played dead, just like the rules said, Emery took off like a missile toward the source of the shot taking a couple of the sim rounds to the chest, that just made him angry and he smashed into the knees of the gunman wielding the rifle knocking him to the ground.
By the time Delacroix got there Emery's demeanor had changed, the dog was hatred given form. "Get him off me!" the terrified voice was muffled under the gas mask, Emery couldn't get through it though not for lack of trying, the dog was standing on his TAC vest and trying his very best to kill the Diamond wearing it. He went for his knife but before he could reach it Delacroix shoved his rifle into Emery's mouth giving him something else to bite down on. The simulation came to an abrupt halt as Michael Delacroix tried to pull the heavy dog off. He wouldn't let go of the rifle but it gave the other Black Diamond a chance to get up. Emery saw, let go and made another run at him. Simonov stepped in, the need to save a life was more important than to act like he'd lost his, and caught Emery's full weight square in the chest as he jumped for the throat of the Black Diamond behind him.
Emery dropped and growled staring Simonov down with bared teeth, almost daring him to keep standing there. Delacroix took Simonov's place and Emery gave him that same look for a few more seconds before starting to calm down. A burst of loud rage filled barking echoed around the training ground. That was it for Emery, he'd almost killed the man who'd shot him and it looked like he was content with that. By this point the 37th infantryman had his knife out and looked like he was going to throw it into the big target Emery presented.
"That would be a mistake." Bauer appeared he'd seen what had happened. "Someone needs to put that dog down." Cold anger had replaced fear and gritted teeth had replaced panic. "You shot him. What did you expect?"
"You're not my commander Bauer. This is between me and Delacroix's dog."
"As I recall Delacroix just pulled his dog off of you. And here you want to kill both of them."
"Just the dog." "What do you think will happen if you do that? Delacroix was a Snow Serpent, you never made it past Blueshirt. " the commander of the 37th was a friend of his so he was able to
provide some nice insider information. As for Delacroix, Bauer knew all of his men by name and had memorized a lot of the relevant information. "He'll probably kill me."
"I'd win." Delacroix's eyes were hidden but weren't going to give away any emotion; there was none in his voice, eerily calm with only the slightest trace of his accent. That was almost scarier than the dog. "C'mon Emery." Delacroix decided he didn't need to be there any more, turned and left Simonov fell in behind him.
"We're running this one again." Bauer ordered through his helmet mic, "Someone get Emery out of here before he kills someone." He turned to the other Diamond "I'm not your commander. But I know yours, if you threaten any of men again, you'll be back in the Tajik prison he found you in. This time there won't be anyone to pay your bail." That was a statement of fact; he had every intention of carrying out his ultimatum but to him the best threat was still a loaded assault rifle, nothing needed to be said there. With Bauer's claim still in his mind, the other Black Diamond found another area to cover.
Former M.A.R.S Headquarters
17 November 2026
1733 HRS
"Michael, you know I want to help you but I'm not sure I can."
"How hard is it to build armor for a dog?"
"We don't have blueprints and ever since M.A.R.S went straight there's a lot more paperwork, you've probably noticed that. I'm lucky I kept my job, there were a massive number of arrests lately, doubt you heard that. Kerner is trying to purge the bad reputation we got from working with Cobra. These new guys aren't as good, not that I mind we've got Kyrgyz people working here, they need to earn money too."
Delacroix cut him off. "You talk too much. I'll make it a custom order if that's the problem."
"It's not. This has never been done before. And to be honest I'm a little scared of Emery, I need measurements." The tech nervously looked around the crowded room stacked floor to ceiling with blueprints, boxes, empty energy drinks and assorted junk, trying to find something to measure the dog with. "He doesn't trust anyone but me; I'll have to work on that, I'll get you the measurements." The tech gave him a tape measure "Go for it, you lose your hand it's not my fault." He turned to a computer screen and doodled some rough sketches; he made more sense when he was focused. "I can't get you the top quality stuff but what I've got in mind should stop a few bullets, Emery is a smaller target so it might
not have to stop as many. You need permission from your boss before I start building this."
"Not a problem."
23 January 2027 0221 HRS
"Bravo Delta Three Eight Authentication Oscar Zero Two Foxtrot Delta. Send Help Location…" He gave the coordinates and repeated the message. Bauer had been repeating the message for hours on the NATO frequency, hoping someone heard before the satellite moved out of range, he'd had his men repeating it too, switching between Black Diamonds, NATO and ANA frequencies. Someone heard. Someone heard. That had become something of a mantra to keep them awake during the long cold night, that, the tea someone had found and a poorly hidden stash of homebrewed Vodka in gallon jugs, those had been passed around and poured into water to keep it from freezing. They'd lost 2 more during the night, Anwar had taken a lucky shot trying to get the power back on and had bled out before anyone could help him, Dubcek was hit coming back from the trenches with ammo and before he'd collapsed inside a window frame fired three rounds, three hits that took their targets out of the fight.
The ammo had been used to avenge them. The snipers were conserving their ammo and instead using their backup weapons, usually carbines or more likely captured rifles. They had night vision, No one could tell if Sharia Al Saif did, the environment, described by one of the Dead Enders as a "Sniper's Paradise" gave the professionals a slight edge, rifle fire echoed through the frigid air and off the snow covered roofs as sniper duel after sniper duel came to their violent conclusions. Bauer repeated the message again and fired a burst of 7.62 rounds, his SCAR and the KMOs his men were salvaging used the same ammo, and more than a few Cobra guns were in use on both sides too.
Someone or something stepped on one of the pieces of china and tile they'd scattered in front of the doors of the houses as a crude early warning system. Bauer turned and fired into the darkness, he was silently praying he hadn't hit one of his own men. He switched on his own night vision and saw he hadn't. They were becoming a lot bolder; Grefsheim had theorized that the Sharies had begun to realize that they had a crushing advantage in numbers. Bauer rushed forward into the narrow doorway to capture whatever was useful. He slid the M.A.R.S rifle across a table being used as cover in a spray of snow, while still watching the door. He and a few others in first platoon were holding a house they'd captured, the others were scattered throughout their foothold. They were all isolated Bauer had made that hard decision knowing that if one of the houses was destroyed the whole unit wouldn't die with it. Bauer could hear other voices repeating the message. He knew exactly where all of his men were, but not where the enemy was. He was right about something, no one had slept and even the adrenaline was starting to wear off, he almost missed a target of opportunity that tried to force his way through the now blocked door the muzzle flash was blinding in night vision. He had no idea what the fighter was trying to prove.
Another round smacked off his right shoulder ripping through the other coat sleeve, their armor was holding up, for now, they'd brought extra plates but there were a lot of
rounds being thrown at it. Another flash behind and to the right of him blinded him again before his vision cleared again, but it took the other gunman out of play, he dropped right in front of the window, point blank shot, Sharia Al Saif was becoming a lot bolder but still making the same stupid mistakes. This attrition was bad enough but if a major attack was still coming, how many more of them would have to die to stop Sharia Al Saif?
He didn't like the thought, nor did Delacroix, who at the moment was battling personal demons as well as Sharia fighters. In the fires lit for warmth and in the constant gunfire he saw and heard nothing but memories. he lined up a shot through the scope of his rifle and with one shot claimed more ammo for it and a belt full of grenades, He'd put the gas mask back in his pack but left his coat on. He needed the warmth but the mask was just an irritant at this point, his vision was blurred with sweat, not surprising, he been wearing his gear for almost a day straight, he was uncomfortable but still alive, that's all he cared about. Somewhere above him one of the snipers fired from a debris strewn roof he was using for cover. He didn't see the shot land but he heard another rifle set at full auto empty its magazine into the night sky. He didn't know what prompted them to start withdrawing but he could hear footsteps and gunfire getting quieter, probably an amateur attempt at a fighting retreat.
"Not good Boss." He reported "They're pulling back, my guess they're trying to concentrate their forces for one more push, and they'll have us."
"Same Here" Petrovic radioed followed quickly by the other 4 platoon leaders.
"All right sitrep every 15 minutes. Back to shifts. See what can salvage yet." Bauer ordered hoping the situation was among what they could salvage. He switched back to the NATO frequency and repeated his message. Someone would hear.
Black Diamonds Headquarters
Northern Germany
23 January 2245 HRS (Germany Time) 245 HRS Afghan Time
NATO had heard and relayed the message to the Directorate, within minutes the Directorate was in a conference call with the sleepy Afghan parliament and The Dead Enders all on the ANA frequency bounced off the still active satellite.
"Need a Sitrep Bauer." Toby told him after the message came through on another transmitter and after he'd made the switch.
"24 or 25 to 1 on infantry. How many Zulfiqars?!" he yelled to someone without their radio. "33 tanks. We're dug in and can hold out for a while, we've been capturing their guns and ammo, KMOs and old Cobra gear but we're short on everything. We're expecting a massive attack, we don't know when, something's kept them from throwing everything at us, and we don't know what. They're complete amateurs so more ammo food water and medical supplies we should be fine with that and air support."
"We will contribute a team of commandos; it's our fault you are in this situation it is our responsibility to find you a way out." someone Bauer couldn't see quickly added,
probably an ANA General based on the accent an Afghan regional one he didn't recognize.
Frederic Bauer wasn't blaming Toby; his bitterness toward the ANA threatened to boil over in his voice, he definitely blamed them. "ASAP. We've lost 5 so far. No idea how bad the big push is going to be."
"We'll get you help. Hold the Line."
"To the last man. Out." This was something else the two men shared; they owed each other their lives a dozen times. The last time this was said, in a similar situation, both of them had almost died.
"Get me a line to Ruby base." The director of Fighter and Helicopters squadrons ordered, time to work out a plan with the ANA.
Ruby Base
Empty Quarter Saudi Arabia
23 January 2315 HRS (Germany Time) 0315 HRS Afghan Time
Ruby Base was a M.A.R.S/A.R.E.S factory in the Rub al Khali of Saudi Arabia, one of the 14 M.A.R.S factories the Black Diamonds had kept. It was usually home to 3 infantry units, 2 tank companies 3 fighter Squadrons and a helicopter squadron, the 29th better known as the "Furious Angels." Their commander Angela Koenig was in the hangar touching up the Nose art she'd personally painted on her Mi-24, all the vehicles were inside but even so, with the winds that rolled across the desert the environment was like a sandblaster. A voice came through the intercom and echoed off the metal walls and roof. "Commander Koenig?"
"You have a contract for us Director?" she asked putting down her spray paint and brushing back her close cropped dark hair. That was just her, direct, focused, straightforward, but remarkably eloquent when given an opportunity.
"From The Afghan Parliament. You're the closest helicopter unit to Afghanistan. Your orders are to get to Bagram ASAP rendezvous with a team of 24 ANA commandos, refuel, arm up and proceed to coordinates they'll give you. Your mission is to provide air support for the 38th Black Diamonds infantry AKA "The Dead Enders". They're pinned down in a small town in the Hindu Kush Mountains and outnumbered roughly 20 to 1 including Zulfiqar tanks, they're readying for a final assault by hostiles. Those not carrying the Commandos are to carry food ammo and gear they don't have enough of. How soon can you get to Afghanistan?"
"Tomorrow Morning ETA unknown. " She was already doing the math in her head factoring for speed weight and possible weather conditions. "Is everything we're going to be carrying at Bagram?"
"I just finished a conference call with the Afghan government ANA command and the relevant bureaucrats. The crews at Bagram are readying your cargo now. Everything they
can spare but no guarantees on what it is. You can probably give the Dead Enders a fighting chance."
"We can get there." She sprinted to the intercom button on the wall pulling on the brown leather jacket she wore over the flight suit she was still wearing "Time to move Furious Angels." She adjusted the sleeves and even through the thick leather could feel the hand sewn squadron logo on its back. Art was one of her passions, the other the history of attack helicopters, anyone who knew her knew that and she wouldn't say anything to anyone who didn't. Her submachine gun, she'd named it Albrecht, was already in the front seat so all she had to do was wait for the rest of her unit to arrive. Inside of an hour and the Furious Angels, 10 A.R.E.S modified, fully armed Mi-24 Super Hinds, and their 20 crew members were over the Saudi Desert and on their way.
Angela Koenig had washed out of the Austrian Air Force she was an amazing pilot and capable leader but lacked the skills on the ground her instructors had wanted from her, in infantry situations she made the same mistakes and never got any better at it, her grades aside from math and engineering were terrible. The Black Diamonds found and recruited her they'd seen her skills and overlooked her weaknesses and so through her years of service she'd earned a command flying helicopters not that different from the ones she'd trained in, at least to he.  she'd been told she had a natural skill with any the only difference was that these were better armed and far meaner looking. Angela Koenig understood that fear was as powerful as the anti-tank rockets the Furious Angels carried.
She had no doubts they would all be used.
24 January 0445
Michael Delacroix was too exhausted to think of anything but sleep, but he forced himself to stay awake any way he could, chipping ice out of the gutters of the houses to refill his drinking water, swigging Vodka that tasted like lighter fluid, anything. He was just looking for something to do. The probes had stopped nearly 45 minutes ago and the silence was unnerving. The sky was starting to get lighter and with the light a little more heat but it was still dark enough for night vision. In the green tinted view of the HUD goggles he helped his platoon scrap the tank Grefsheim had killed hoping to use the plating as armor. The main gun was a total loss but there were a few unfired shells that had fallen form one of the other tanks so with some help from his own mechanical skills, and others in his platoon he had wired them to become crude mines.
This was a side of Delacroix few ever saw, in the recent months he'd spent with the Dead Enders all they'd seen was the guilt and painful memories that had dominated every waking moment except moments of adrenaline sharpened senses and more than a few of the nights when he woke up in a cold sweat hand reaching for the knife he always had in easy reach, a product of his upbringing. His love for Tabasco was another, he had none at the moment, the 38th hadn't brought any food they'd expected maybe a day of fighting after which they'd call for extraction from the ANA, but as he'd learned so often a plan was just a list of things that could go wrong. Emery had disappeared sometime during the night maybe to find food of his own. Delacroix just hoped he was okay the concern
blending with the hollow look of a haunted past in his jade green eyes. He had heard howling and he wasn't sure if it Emery or any wolves nearby howling at the moon.
Emery came wandering back with a rabbit he'd found somewhere in his mouth. The lined mask that covered his face but left his teeth free was nowhere to be seen. Delacroix knew to leave him alone and so left him there knowing he'd be safe. Emery was better with people now, he trusted everyone in the 38th but how he would react to any other Black Diamonds who might be coming Delacroix didn't know.
Bauer's voice entered his ears. "I want everyone back with their original platoons when the attack comes. Snipers will give us the heads up. Switch to these frequencies on my order." He gave a list of 5 radio frequencies. That made sense to him twenty one  voices, he mentally corrected himself, eighteen voices would be easier to handle than over a hundred and fighting by platoon would lead to the cohesion they would need in the coming battle, any edge they had needed to be used.
Frederic Bauer called out his position and watched the flurry of activity as platoon 1 raced to the same general area as their commander. There wasn't enough room in the cramped house for all everyone so they scattered a little bit, laying down boards across the roofs and scrambling to set up their crude steel plate armor and machine gun nests. Help was coming that gave his men some much needed hope but he could still sense the uncertainty in their actions and body language. Put simply they were dead tired and scared, still he knew they could and would do their jobs. He asked his platoon leaders and got four voices telling him they were. One of the Snipers confirmed a suspicion he'd had "They're using the minarets as observation posts."
"Thought so. They're the tallest buildings in town wouldn't you?"
"Never got the chance."
"Can't do anything about it now. Nothing to do but wait."