Survivalist - 17 - The Ordeal Read Online Free PDF Page A

Wars—of how men had sometimes fallen into such shell holes and drowned.
    At least a half dozen gunships had never made it off the ground, their structural bones still smoldering in grotesque death postures. At least five more gunships had been shot out of the air.
    Had not Colonel Wolfgang Mann more than twenty-four hours earlier more than doubled the size of the force here, victory for the Soviet attackers would have been a certainty. Much of the new construction for Eden Base, as it was, lay in
    ruins. One of the shuttle craft was heavily damaged and another had sustained what appeared from the air at least to have been only minor damage.
    He had no idea of casualties and, deep inside himself, didn’t want to know. Despite the friction between himself and Christopher Dodd, Eden commander, there was a kinship with his fellow astronauts, a kinship grown out of having survived the five centuries since the Night of the War, having survived together. Losing one of them was like the loss of a brother or sister.
    Kurinami’s own wife and family had died during the flaming aftermath of the Night of the War, when the very atmosphere itself had ionized and the sky caught fire and nearly all life on earth vanished. Or before, perhaps, on the Night of the War itself. He would never know. And he desperately wanted the killing to stop. Now and forever.
    The Soviet gunships had fallen back; some pockets of fighting were still in the environs of Eden Base where Soviet commandoes had rappeled in from the cargo bays of the gunships, but the back of the attack had been broken. The presence of Soviet land forces, even in such token numbers, augured a major offensive. Would Eden Base be able to withstand it? Would German supplies of ordnance and spare parts and synth fuel be able to support a protracted defense?
    He kept walking, past the potholes, toward the command center, the near edge of the forward side fire-blackened but otherwise seeming undamaged.
    The new German commandant, Captain Horst Bremen, stood before it, his curly blond hair wind-tousled, his left cheek dark-smudged, his uniform collar open, an assault rifle in his right hand.
    “Kurinami! Over here!”
    Kurinami quickened his pace; the German officer strode purposefully toward him. They met beside the remains of one of the helicopters, the acrid smell of still-smoldering synth-fuel residue assailing his nostrils as the wind, bitterly cold,
    suddenly shifted. “You agree they will return?”
    “Yes, Captain. It seems inevitable from the pattern of their attack.”
    “Yes—inevitable. But we must forestall the inevitable. I have instructed that headquarters in New Germany be concerned and emergency reinforcements and supplies be dispatched to us at once. But at the very least, we are looking at eighteen precious hours, perhaps as long as thirty-six hours until reinforcements arrive. New Germany itself has been attacked, but the Soviet force was easily repelled. More a harassing action, it appears. Soviet forces are attacking the First Chinese City, the Herr Colonel personally supervising the counterattack. A significant concentration of ground forces is attacking our base outside the Hekla Community in Lydveldid Island. It seems, however, that this area is critical to the Russians. Therefore, we cannot allow it to be overrun. Another attack like this one might be more than we can sustain. Certainly not a third. I need you to volunteer.”
    “Volunteer?” Kurinami echoed.
    “I believe it advisable to dispatch a small force of gunships and ground troops to the north. If possible, locate the Soviet staging area and counterattack, something logic dictates they will not suspect us capable of. As they advance, fight holding actions designed to delay them as much as possible. If you choose not to volunteer, I will not think any the less of you. But, logic again—I am told you are the best pilot available and you have some significant experience versus our adversaries which