Hondo, This Is CFB Cold Lake by Ben Prewitt

Author:Ben Prewitt [Prewitt, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sea Lion Press
Published: 2017-07-14T00:00:00+00:00

Near Hill 238

South of Colville Lake

Three Hours Later

“What the hell is that in front of the tank?” Sanders had dismounted from the Coyote along with Reilly to take a leak and stretch his legs. The battle had been over for nearly two hours now, but he was still shaking and out of breath. His movements were quick, jittery, and he knew that is was something he hadn’t had before.

Reilly, on the other hand, was merely going through the motions of trying to get his vehicle back into shape to get going again. Their part in the Battle of Colville Lake had lasted barely an hour, with a few rounds expended near the end more for their own enjoyment than for effect.

The Leopards of C Squadron had begun firing on the fleeing Russian APCs before their Air Force friends were even done with them. Sanders had a hard time for the first moments figuring out what exactly was destroying the Russian vehicles: the Mavericks from the CF-18s, or the 105mm shells from the tanks.

The Russians, caught up in multiple attacks, didn’t know what hit them. And by the time they realized where the new threat was coming from, the Leopards had already eaten up half the distance across the field to them. They were firing on the run, destroying all of them without a single retaliatory shot being fired in return.

“What was what in front of the tank?” asked Reilly, walking over to Sanders. He was pointing to where the beast had finally come to a screeching, grinding halt.

Sanders pointed to the ground directly in front of the vehicle. “Right there. Right there! Don’t you see it? What the hell is that? Even the air looks funny in front of the damn thing.”

From what Sanders put together over the radio chatter, C Squadron of the Strathconas expected the walkover of the BTRs. They didn’t expect the two other T-80s to come off of the hill as well.

Why they hadn’t exited with the rest wasn’t clear, but the first shot managed to broadside 24 and knock its right-side tracks off. The T-80s split, and the Leopards immediately turned in unison to engage the new enemies.

One of the Russians, apparently trying to break back into the town, made a dash across the field back towards the main road. Two different Canadians fired simultaneously, slamming rounds into his turret and motor. Greasy black diesel smoke started pouring into the sky, and within a few seconds tankers began exiting from the belly hatch, running out the front towards the village.

The medevac from battalion HQ was just now getting to the lone Russian tanker that had survived. Sanders hadn’t gotten close to him, but like all men in war he was fascinated by those he was being paid to kill.

They’d thought there weren’t any alive at first, and after lying there in the snow for an hour like that it was completely logical to assume so. The Russian dead were being exchanged, Reilly had told him, 1-for-1 for the Canadian dead from this front.

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