Lieutenant by Rick Shelley

Author:Rick Shelley [Shelley, Rick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781936535330
Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency
Published: 1998-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

Just make like we’re not here, Lon thought after the sergeants had gone back to their positions, projecting his wishes as if the Belletieners might actually be influenced by them. Forget all about us until the rest of the regiment gets here and keeps you too busy to remember. It had not been necessary for Lon to reinforce the order for electronic silence, or to say anything about avoiding unnecessary movement. The sergeants and squad leaders would handle those details, should there be any need. But everyone seemed content to lie in their trenches and take their turns at watching and sleeping—or trying to sleep.

Now that he had time for it, Lon found that he was no longer as sleepy as he had been when it had looked as if he would have only a few minutes to nap. He was still tired, but his mind was working again. He listened, both for any hint of the enemy and for any unnecessary sounds from his own men. He thought back over what Captain Orlis had said, and kept looking at the time, to see how far away the next update was. Time crawled.

At 1605 hours, Captain Orlis had nothing new to say, and said just that. Two hours later, he said that everything remained on schedule, even though more of Belletiene’s troops had joined the fighting on the southwest side of Oceanview.

After that, Lon did manage to doze. The several hours that had passed without any sign of enemy activity around the park had eased his tension a little. Maybe we’ll get away with it, he told himself.

He was definitely asleep when Phip Steesen shook his shoulder and said, “Lieutenant!” in a sharp whisper.

“What is it?” Lon asked, blinking furiously.

“Enemy soldiers moving, west to east, north of us,” Phip said. He was prone next to Lon’s trench, keeping his head down. “At least a full company. The rest of the men are being wakened,” he added.

Lon rolled over. He had been sleeping on his back. He lifted his head to look over the raised border to his trench. Almost unconsciously, he noticed that it was 1915 hours. The shadows were getting more acute, longer.

“I see them,” he whispered, and Phip started crawling back to his own trench, snaking slowly across the ground.

The Belletieners were moving along the avenue next to the park. The point squad was just disappearing from sight to the east. The main body was coming along behind, moving along either side of the avenue, cautiously—as if concerned about the possibility of encountering hostile forces—but showing no hint that they knew that Dirigenters were so close.

Sitting ducks, Lon thought. His two platoons would be able to take out more than half of the enemy company before the Belletieners could react. The nearer line of the enemy was no more than eighty yards away. He watched, knowing that he would not give the order to fire unless the enemy did something threatening. There was no question of giving away

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