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“TOC,” I heard PFC MacLùcaidh say into the voice-powered handset, as I looked over the map for tomorrow’s advance. “Yeah, she’s right here, wait one.
“El-Tee? Your driver’s got a report for you.” MacLùcaidh said, handing over the receiver.
“Thanks Mac. Go for T’Siir.”
“Hey El-Tee, when is the Old Man supposed to be here?”
“Between 3 and 3 thirty. Why?”
“Because ese pinche cobarde, patrón Asquith is rolling up in a jeep.”
“Miah,” I said patiently, “even if you feel that way about Captain Asquith, you can’t be expressing your disgust about him to your commanding officer, using those derogatory words. Understood?”
“Yes, la jefe.”
“Good. Consider yourself counseled. Is there anyone else with him?”
“Top, I think. And a driver.”
“Thanks Miah. Mac and I’ll be right out.”
Handing the receiver back to Private MacLùcaidh, I took a sip of coffee, folded up the map, and stuck it in my cargo pocket. “Let’s go meet his Worshipfulness, the scion of Asquith Arms, Mac.”
MacLùcaidh nodded as she walked out from behind the reception desk that we’d turned into our tactical operations center. And lo and behold, in rolled Captain Asquith in a jeep. No tank, no escort, no nothing. Just him, his driver, and First Sergeant Bambert.
As he climbed out of the jeep I went down to greet him. “Welcome Belvedere Heights, Captain.”
“Where’s my salute, Lieutenant?” By Driasis*’ shiny mithral sword, he could make a rank sound like a curse.
“Sir, we’re in an active combat zone. There could very well be snipers in the area.”
“Fine,” he huffed. I sighed internally. For all his bragging that he descended from the Oyster Bay Roosevelts, he certainly didn’t act like his more famous ancestors. “Why is your unit still here? According to the plan, you should be on the other side of Sherbrooke, and pushing hard on the 610.”
I cleared my throat. MacLùcaidh took the cue, and headed back inside. “Sir,” I said, “we paused here to secure Belvedere Heights, perform maintenance on our vehicles, refuel from local fuel points, and to await reinforcements from the rest of Predator to relieve us here, so that we could advance along the St Francois River. During which time,” there was the distant light chatter of machine guns, the heavier thumping of a 30mm Bushmaster on one of our Dragoons, and a tank gun going off, “we were engaged by scout elements from Forces Québec, a troop of Coyotes from 12 RBQ. Which we then informed your command that we were in contact about.
“Sir, it’s almost 4 in the morning. Our initial contact was 15 hours ago. We still haven’t been either relieved or reinforced.” The radio squawking in the TOC with a spot report, garbled and staticky as it was, indicated a force of Quebécois was coming through trails in the Mont Bellevue Park.
Mac came running back out. “Sir, ma’am. Alfa 5 and Delta One are in contact, and reporting LAVs and Leopards.” A loud explosion ripped through the somewhat still, early summer predawn gloom.
I turned and looked at Asquith. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, glowing in the lantern light from the TOC. “Sir, I really need you to get on the battalion net, and get Charlie Company over here on the double.”
“Uh…” Crap, I could see Asquith starting to freeze.
“Hey Top!” I shouted for the First Sergeant, who was talking with Miah over by Chronic Pain.
First Sergeant Bambert came trotting over. “What can I do, El-Tee?”
“Two things. Can you get the OId Man back to his command post, and then get Battalion on the net. We need heavy armor support.”
Bambert took a look at Asquith standing there, and nodded. “Wilco, El-Tee. Good luck.”
“Thanks Top,” I said. I turned to Mac. “Stand to. Everybody up and armed up. When that’s done, fire up your Dragoon. And make sure the cat is in the CP.”
“Gotcha El-Tee.”
“Miah,” I shouted. “Warm up Pain. We’re rolling out in 10.”

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*Driasis - Myrkálfar (Dark Elf) goddess of law, song, beauty, and the sword. A blending of Eilistraee and Tyr from the Forgotten Realms setting for Dungeons & Dragons

Description

“TOC,” I heard PFC MacLùcaidh say into the voice-powered handset, as I looked over the map for tomorrow’s advance. “Yeah, she’s right here, wait one.
“El-Tee? Your driver’s got a report for you.” MacLùcaidh said, handing over the receiver.
“Thanks Mac. Go for T’Siir.”
“Hey El-Tee, when is the Old Man supposed to be here?”
“Between 3 and 3 thirty. Why?”
“Because ese pinche cobarde, patrón Asquith is rolling up in a jeep.”
“Miah,” I said patiently, “even if you feel that way about Captain Asquith, you can’t be expressing your disgust about him to your commanding officer, using those derogatory words. Understood?”
“Yes, la jefe.”
“Good. Consider yourself counseled. Is there anyone else with him?”
“Top, I think. And a driver.”
“Thanks Miah. Mac and I’ll be right out.”
Handing the receiver back to Private MacLùcaidh, I took a sip of coffee, folded up the map, and stuck it in my cargo pocket. “Let’s go meet his Worshipfulness, the scion of Asquith Arms, Mac.”
MacLùcaidh nodded as she walked out from behind the reception desk that we’d turned into our tactical operations center. And lo and behold, in rolled Captain Asquith in a jeep. No tank, no escort, no nothing. Just him, his driver, and First Sergeant Bambert.
As he climbed out of the jeep I went down to greet him. “Welcome Belvedere Heights, Captain.”
“Where’s my salute, Lieutenant?” By Driasis*’ shiny mithral sword, he could make a rank sound like a curse.
“Sir, we’re in an active combat zone. There could very well be snipers in the area.”
“Fine,” he huffed. I sighed internally. For all his bragging that he descended from the Oyster Bay Roosevelts, he certainly didn’t act like his more famous ancestors. “Why is your unit still here? According to the plan, you should be on the other side of Sherbrooke, and pushing hard on the 610.”
I cleared my throat. MacLùcaidh took the cue, and headed back inside. “Sir,” I said, “we paused here to secure Belvedere Heights, perform maintenance on our vehicles, refuel from local fuel points, and to await reinforcements from the rest of Predator to relieve us here, so that we could advance along the St Francois River. During which time,” there was the distant light chatter of machine guns, the heavier thumping of a 30mm Bushmaster on one of our Dragoons, and a tank gun going off, “we were engaged by scout elements from Forces Québec, a troop of Coyotes from 12 RBQ. Which we then informed your command that we were in contact about.
“Sir, it’s almost 4 in the morning. Our initial contact was 15 hours ago. We still haven’t been either relieved or reinforced.” The radio squawking in the TOC with a spot report, garbled and staticky as it was, indicated a force of Quebécois was coming through trails in the Mont Bellevue Park.
Mac came running back out. “Sir, ma’am. Alfa 5 and Delta One are in contact, and reporting LAVs and Leopards.” A loud explosion ripped through the somewhat still, early summer predawn gloom.
I turned and looked at Asquith. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, glowing in the lantern light from the TOC. “Sir, I really need you to get on the battalion net, and get Charlie Company over here on the double.”
“Uh…” Crap, I could see Asquith starting to freeze.
“Hey Top!” I shouted for the First Sergeant, who was talking with Miah over by Chronic Pain.
First Sergeant Bambert came trotting over. “What can I do, El-Tee?”
“Two things. Can you get the OId Man back to his command post, and then get Battalion on the net. We need heavy armor support.”
Bambert took a look at Asquith standing there, and nodded. “Wilco, El-Tee. Good luck.”
“Thanks Top,” I said. I turned to Mac. “Stand to. Everybody up and armed up. When that’s done, fire up your Dragoon. And make sure the cat is in the CP.”
“Gotcha El-Tee.”
“Miah,” I shouted. “Warm up Pain. We’re rolling out in 10.”

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*Driasis - Myrkálfar (Dark Elf) goddess of law, song, beauty, and the sword. A blending of Eilistraee and Tyr from the Forgotten Realms setting for Dungeons & Dragons