The Complete Hammer's Slammers, Vol. 2

"Wow," said Carbury. He was sucking in his belly so that he could lean toward Screen #3 without pressing the veteran's shoulder. "Exactly what is it that's happening, Sergeant? They, ah, they aren't updating me very regularly."

Des Grieux rotated his chair counterclockwise. The back squeezed Carbury against the turret basket until the lieutenant managed to slip aside.

"It's all right there," Des Grieux said, pointing toward the map display on Screen #1."He's got Broglie held on the left—"orange symbols toward the western edge of the display "—but that's just sniping,nowaythey're gonna push Broglie out of ground that rugged."

He gathered spit in his mouth, then swallowed it. "The bastard's good," the veteran muttered to himself. "I give him that."

"Right," said Carbury firmly in a conscious attempt to assert himself. Strategywasa major part of the syllabus of the Frisian Military Academy."So instead he's putting pressure on the right flank where the terrain's easier—"

Not a lot easier, but at least the hills didn't channel tanks and combat cars into a handful of choke points.

"—and there's only the Thunderbolt Division to worry about." Carbury frowned. "Besides the Hashemites themselves, of course."

"Youworry about the towel-heads," Des Grieux said acidly. He glared at the long arc of yellow symbols marking elements of the Thunderbolt Division.

Though the enemy's eastern flank was anchored on hills rising to join the Knifeblade Escarpment well beyond the limits of the display, the center of the long line stretched across terrain similar to that in which Task Force Kuykendall waited. Gullies; scattered shrubs; hard, windswept ground that rolled more gently than a calm sea.

Perfect country for a headlong armored assault.

"That'swhat he ought to do," Des Grieux said, more to himself than to the intruding officer. He formed three fingers of his left hand into a pitchfork and stabbed them upward past the line of yellow symbols.

On Screen #3 at the corner of his eye, an image flashed into a cyan dazzle as another main-gun bolt struck home.

"Umm," said Carbury judiciously. "It's not really that simple, Sergeant." His manicured index finger bobbed toward the left, then the right edge of the display. "They'd be enfiladed by fire from the Legion, and even the Thunderbolts have anti-tank weapons. You wouldn't want to do that."