Starfist: Firestorm Read Online Free PDF

directly above them.
    “The battalion will advance in a column of companies on line. The ‘honor’ of being the lead company falls on Company L. Third platoon will have the left flank.” Bass looked at Lance Corporal Schultz. “Don’t worry, Hammer, second squad gets the left of the platoon.”
    Schultz always wanted to be in the most dangerous position when the Marines moved, whether that position was the point or an exposed flank. He wasn’t suicidal, he just believed he was the most alert Marine in whatever unit he was in, the most able to spot danger before the enemy had time to react, the most able to hurt the enemy first. He believed that improved his chances of survival in a firefight and saved the lives of other Marines.
    “Staff Sergeant Hyakowa has a day’s rations and water for everybody. Squad leaders, move your people to him in good order, and make sure every one of your Marines has a full ration of food and water. Do it, first squad, second, guns.” Bass stepped out of the way as Sergeant Ratliff led his men to Hyakowa and oversaw their supplying. The Marines had their food and water and were back in formation in less than fifteen minutes.
    “The Brigadier,” Bass said when they were ready, “has arranged for transportation to take us to our jumping-off point.” He stopped talking and looked over the disembodied heads and arms standing in three ranks in front of him, then roared out, “’TOON, ’ten- hut !” The Marines snapped to attention, and there was a brief clatter of blaster butts clanking to the deck next to the Marines’ right feet.
    Bass marched toward Ratliff, with Hyakowa a step to his left and rear. Briskly, with the certainty that came from years of standing and conducting inspections, he went from one Marine to the next and checked each of them. Every one had everything he was supposed to, and the weapons he examined were in proper working order. When he finished with PFC Emilio Delagarza, the assistant gunner in second gun team, the last man in the formation, he returned to his front and center position. He looked pointedly at the three squad leaders and said, “It’s nice to see that the squad leaders conducted their own inspections before their squads got here.” The squad leaders, still at attention, neither looked at him nor changed expression.
    “At ease,” Bass ordered. “We don’t have anything else to do before our transportation arrives. So you may as well fall out, but don’t leave the area.” He looked toward the overhead as the thunder of the artillery barrage stopped. “That’s odd,” he murmured. “The barrage was supposed to last two hours. It’s only been”—he looked at Hyakowa.
    “About half an hour,” the platoon sergeant said.
    “It wasn’t supposed to stop until after we jumped off.”
    Hyakowa looked at him blandly, but didn’t say anything. If Charlie Bass didn’t know what was going on, Wang Hyakowa certainly didn’t.
    A new sound pierced the air, the scream of Essays nearing the end of the powered dive from orbit. A combat assault landing! Bass looked at the overhead again, as though he could see through the ridge above to the sky. Had the Coalition somehow come up with Essays to make its own assault into the defenses of the Bataan Peninsula? Or had the reinforcements—and the rumored Marine lieutenant general—arrived earlier than expected? He looked at Hyakowa and shrugged. For now, he’d wait patiently. But there was a limit to Charlie Bass’s patience.
             
    Charlie Bass engaged in small talk with Hyakowa for a few minutes, then called the squad leaders up and reviewed known enemy emplacements and tactics with them for a time. Then he got up from where he’d been sitting on the floor of the tunnel and began pacing. After almost an hour of decreasing patience, he put on his helmet to call Captain Conorado. But a call from the company commander was already coming in on the command circuit.
    “Three Actual,”