A Band of Brothers by William R. Forstchen

Author:William R. Forstchen [Forstchen, William R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Imaginary War and Battles, High Tech, Fiction, Science Fiction, Roum (Imaginary Place), Imaginary Wars and Battles, Adventure Fiction, Roum (Imaginery Place), War & Military, Military, Adventure
ISBN: 9780451457059
Google: RD_tNAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0451457056
Publisher: Roc
Published: 1998-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

"And if I tell you you have to stay?"

The captain exchanged looks with his staff. "Dammit, that's what I figured."

"I'll see what I can do when I get back."

"What about them damn bastards with the 12th Corps sir?" one of the sergeants asked. "They ain't seen no fighting except for a couple of lousy regiments."

Pat nodded. How could he explain the need for a fresh reserve, either to hold if the Bantag launched another full-scale assault somewhere else, or as replacements when all of 1st Corps was pulled out? Sending them in piecemeal would drain off what strength he had left.

"I can't promise, sergeant. It's not just here, it's all around the city. I'm trying the best I can to see no one carries too much. What I'm asking you is, can you still kill Bantag?"

"Kill 'em, sir? Shit, all the livelong day. Just want my friends with the 12th to share the fun, that's all."

Pat reached over and clapped the man on the shoulder.

"Captain, take me around the perimeter."

The captain sighed, and looked over at Sergeant Zhadovich, who finally nodded. "He wants to see it—let him see it."

The captain crawled out of the bombproof, motioning for Zhadovich to come next. "Don't need the others," the captain announced. "Might draw attention."

The men gratefully remained, instantly sprawling out to catch a little rest.

Heading east along a narrow trench cut into the floor of the building and piled high on either side with rubble, they went under a hole in a wall. Looking up, Pat could see the stark ruins of a burned-out temple, its exterior walls made of limestone. All that was left was the shell, the interior having burned and collapsed. A flame-scorched rag doll lay against the wall of the trench, obviously placed there by a sentimental soldier.

Even as he looked up at the wall a rocket shrieked overhead, from the west and crashed into the wall, rubble and shards of stone raining down.

Pat pressed on, crawling along the trench, which sliced into the interior of the temple, and worming his way up through the rubble to the center of the building. It was difficult to spot any men. Rubble had been piled up around window slits on all four sides of the building.

Zhadovich pointed up, and tucked into an overhanging eave Pat spotted a lone soldier swaddled in white blankets. All that was visible was a rifle barrel, poised at a crack in the wall. The gun recoiled, the man ducked back and away, and a second later stone fragments kicked up from return fire through the slit.

"Good sniper," the captain announced proudly. "Eight kills for certain."

The interior of the building rocked as half a dozen artillery rounds slammed into the outside wall on the east side, a section of stone raining down into the inside. Rifle fire erupted along the south wall, return fire cracking through breaks in the wall. Piercing taunts echoed from across the street. The men remained silent, one of them sliding down to

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