***
Suarez spent the hours after the dinosaur incident making Fox Troop ready for whatever happened next. He checked that every vehicle crew was at peak performance capability. He chatted with the men to boost their spirits. He told them he was proud of them. Then he got back into the command hatch of his tank and watched the moon set against the black horizon. He was glad the beam had quit lighting up the sky. He heard footsteps coming across the gravel and turned as General Davis and Colonel MacIlvain approached and stopped below him. The general looked up with a kindly, almost sad expression.
“It’s time,” he said quietly. “Have your troop ready to move out at 23 hundred hours, Captain. That’s fifteen minutes from now.”
“Yes, sir.” Suarez snapped a salute, perhaps a little too curtly. The order made something run cold in the pit of his guts. He wasn’t afraid of a fight but this task seemed too big for Fox Troop, or any single troop.
Davis returned the salute. “The best of luck, Suarez. My prayers go with you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As the general and colonel headed back to the house without another word, Suarez turned and called to Crom, who was in the command hatch of the tank pulled up behind him. “We roll out at 23 hundred. Pass the word.”
Crom gave a thumbs-up sign and turned to pass the message to the vehicle behind him. Suarez wondered if he had just pronounced his best friend’s death sentence. He watched the two commanders go up the steps into the dark house as the sound of revving tank engines filled the air. He respected Davis. The General had it tough. As the ranking officer he had to take command whether he was qualified to lead tank troops or not. No use blaming him for that. And even though Suarez didn’t like the odds for the success of this assault plan, he had to admit Davis was a real leader. He made his decision based on the best options open to him and he stuck to it. There was something to be said for that.
“Hey man,” a voice rose above the rumble of the engines, interrupting Suarez’s thoughts. Down where the general had been a minute before was Crom, looking up at him like a brave but scared schoolboy. “I wanted to say goodbye. Just in case.”
Suarez climbed out of his hatch and jumped down off the deck to clasp Crom’s extended hand. They shook hands hard and he looked into his friend’s night-shadowed face and saw a haunted, spooky look in his eyes.
“I’d be lying to you,” Crom said, “if I told you I thought we could pull this off.”
Suarez shrugged. “Remember what I said a couple days ago? A soldier’s got to follow orders. That’s it.”
“You’re right. I’m thinking about it too much. Maybe good luck will ride with us.”
“I don’t like to trust luck, Crom. How about trusting God?”
“Where’s He been up to this point? Asleep?” They fell silent for a moment, each lost in his own thoughts while the engines roared.
“Don’t let it get you down, man,” said Suarez. “You gotta believe some good will come from what we do, even if you can’t see it now. Maybe General Davis can see something we don’t.”
Crom looked at the ground for a long moment. Then he smiled. “You’re right, Vic. I’m just sorry we won’t be together when this goes down.”
“Yeah, me too.”
They embraced tightly. Suarez felt in his bones that he would never see his friend again. That was what he regretted most. This night would probably end a beautiful friendship.
He drew back and clapped both his hands down hard on Crom’s shoulders to give him a jolt of adrenaline. “Hoo-ah!” he shouted. “Fight well.”
“Fight well,” replied Crom. He turned and headed for his tank.
Suarez called after him, “Keep your head up. Keep thinking.”
“You too.” Crom climbed onto his tank and into the command hatch. Suarez watched his friend descend into the turret, thinking he had done a good job of restoring Crom’s faith in the future. But it was hard to find that faith inside himself. When he climbed back into his own command hatch it was already 22:59. He yelled down to his driver, “Let’s get this crate rolling.”
“Yes, sir,” called Veccs. He revved the engine once, twice and then the tank jarred into motion. Within a minute they were at the head of a snake of moving hardware crawling along the road that went up the hill from the ranch house. At the first switchback, Suarez looked back to watch Crom’s short line of two tanks and three Bradleys pull out from the main column and onto the horse trail. They were headed for their separate appointment with fate on the front side of the mountain. He looked down on the complex of ranch buildings as his main force mounted the second switchback. On the rear porch of the house, he could dimly make out General Davis standing with several of his aides. He shot the general a thumbs-up signal and Davis responded in kind. The goodbyes were over.
Suarez peered through his infrared binoculars into the darkness ahead, scouring the green-outlined hillside for signs of an enemy the likes of which he hadn’t been trained to engage. In fact, apart from the captive creature and the machine parked in the garage, it was an enemy he had never even seen. Behind him he could just make out the helmeted heads jutting from hatches along the column of war machines following him up the mountain road. A feeling like cold water ran through his stomach. He and his men would face the toughest test of their lives tonight. Would they come out heroes, or dead men? A few hours would tell. He felt fear, not for himself, but for the brave souls who were following him to their deaths tonight. He remembered punching Crom on the overlook to El Paso. It seemed like a hundred years ago. At least he and Crom had taken time to choose their own fates. These boys hadn’t been given that choice. He wondered how many would have chosen wife, family, and friends over this?
None, he decided. No one would do anything different. Duty came first. They all knew it as well as he did, down to the last man. That gave him some comfort, if not about the outcome of the night’s engagement, then at least about his responsibility. The gnawing in his guts calmed a little. He was finally ready, no matter what happened.
His watch showed 23:03 hours. If things went according to plan, Crom would have his platoons of dismounted men ready to rush Dr. Ogilvey’s entrance to the citadel at about 23:35 hours. By that time Suarez expected to have his own line of tanks in position for a frontal assault on the main entrances. It seemed unlikely the enemy could fail to see the main force coming but if Crom’s men got inside during Fox’s attack there might be a slender hope of success—if everything went as planned.
Suarez strained his eyes through the night-vision binocs, scrutinizing each bush and tree, each switchback of the climbing road, searching for a hidden threat or ambush. Overhead, the moon was well below the dark silhouette of Sandstone Mountain but still made enough skyglow to light things up on the intensifier screen of his binocs.
Fifteen minutes later, they topped a switchback that opened onto a high, dark prairie. It was narrow at first but widened in the direction of Sandstone Mountain. As the line of tanks moved past a wrecked enemy aircraft and out onto the prairie Suarez kept his binocs trained on the base of the mountain, a mile away on his left. There in the darkness lay their objectives, the two portal entries to the underground citadel. In just a few minutes the troop would be in position to wheel left and the tanks behind him would spread out to become his right and left flanks. There was no enemy force in sight.
“It’s all too easy so far,” he murmured. “Way too easy.” Then his head-set came alive with the sound of voices shouting in the heat of battle. Among them he recognized Crom.
“We are under attack from all sides. We are not deployed yet! Repeat, not deployed yet!”
There were shouts from others as well, as tank and Bradley commanders struggled to gain control over what sounded like a chaotic situation.
“This is track two, we’re hit!”
“Bradley five, get your infantry out. Deploy your men on the ground and return fire. Move toward the objective.”
Explosions came over
Suarez’s headset now, some sounding like cannon fire, some sounding much worse. Screams of pain mingled with the other noises. Suarez shuddered. That was a sound he had been dreading for days now. With his own column moving onto the prairie unmolested, Suarez kept an ear on Crom’s voice.
“On your right, Charlie. Turn and fire! Turn and fire!” From his high-pitched tone, Suarez knew Crom must be in desperate straits. He wished there was something he could do to make a difference but his options were limited. He turned to look back along his own line of tanks. They were almost in position. Another two minutes would do it—a long two minutes. By then the chance to take the heat off Crom might be gone. Gotta do something now. He pressed his comm link button and addressed the troop.
“Let’s start this party early. Launch flares. Left wheel and advance on the objective.”
The mortar track two positions behind him responded almost immediately with two rocket flares that arched over the prairie and descended slowly on parachutes. They lit things up until Suarez could see the portals outlined clearly against the base of the mountain.
“Hey, Quinn,” he shouted down into the turret. “Give ’em a high explosive round right in the front door.”
“Roger,” said the gunner. A moment later the tank’s gun banged heavily and their first round was on its way.