Volunteer

Press on with the assault. Aside from Gao Fei and Samir, three new arrivals had joined 1st Squad. Team 1's newcomer was already dead. Even though they had been squadmates and had even had a brawl, Gao Fei never learned his name in the end. Team 3 had two new recruits, and the squad leader had doubled as Team 3's leader—meaning only three men remained in Team 3 now, two of whom were newcomers. "Newcomer" meant veteran soldiers newly transferred in. They might have had combat experience, but certainly none fighting in Bakhmut. In fact, for a massive offensive battle like today's, the vast majority were experiencing it for the first time. The sole surviving veteran of Team 1 was assigned to Team 3, and Andrey, who had tagged along on his own, was folded into Team 3 as well. Without hesitation, Sokholov placed Team 3—heavy with newcomers—at the front. No pretense, and none needed: Sokholov meant for Team 3 to spearhead the most hazardous assaults. It wasn't that Sokholov was afraid of dying or abusing his newly acquired command to use comrades as cannon fodder. Rather, once he declared they must protect their core firepower, the only option was to adopt tactics that favored Gao Fei. Gao Fei's defining trait was dropping enemies with a single shot, but if an enemy hit him, one bullet would end him just the same. Team 2 had better coordination, so naturally Team 2 would build their tactics around Gao Fei. Team 3, naturally, would bear the brunt at the front, soaking up the opening and fiercest firepower so their core, Gao Fei, had an opportunity to shoot. Now a nine-man combat unit, Team 3 cleared the path ahead while Team 2 trailed a few meters behind—neither too far nor too close. Team 2 adjusted its formation as well: Samir took the front, followed by Glaski, Gao Fei right behind Glaski, and Sokholov bringing up the rear. The combat body camera was on Sokholov right now, capturing the performance of everyone in the squad. Team 3 had entered the trench. Every subsequent step brought the risk of encountering the enemy, but they wouldn't run into a pinned-down choke point like before. Team 3 halted temporarily because another trench corner lay ahead. 1st Squad was now advancing along trenches thoroughly fortified by the enemy; past that bend, a squad of fully armed hostiles might well be lying in wait. The veteran at the head of Team 3 crept forward, suddenly poked his head out for a peek, jerked it back in a flash, and then poked it out again, this time holding his gaze. After observing for a moment, the veteran raised his left arm and waved, signaling the front was clear. Then, hunched low with his head ducked, he became the first to move into the blind section of the trench ahead. The others followed slowly behind. Traces left behind by combat were visible in this stretch of trench. The trench floor was littered with spent casings, alongside craters from nearby shell detonations. A shell had struck just outside the trench; while it hadn't caved in the earthworks completely, the blast had clearly incapacitated the soldiers inside. An abandoned position from which the enemy had pulled back. Following the trench forward another twenty meters brought them to another bend. Team 3 reached the corner and stopped once again. Once more: approach, peek, advance. A repeating cycle, over and over. If only they had a drone—it wouldn't even need to be large or advanced. Just a quick glance from ten meters overhead would suffice. Where enemies were resisting, which sections were empty and free to traverse—a casual sweep from a drone could settle it all. Why bother with such grueling caution? Technology was combat power. A pity. Gunfire sounded ahead, close by. It was the roar of a heavy machine gun, though the bursts weren't particularly sustained—mostly short bursts, pausing briefly before another salvo. A heavy machine gun wouldn't be used against troops assaulting inside the trenches, so the reason for its sustained fire had to be suppressing infantry in the distance. Mingled with the heavy machine-gun fire came the distinct whooshes of two rocket launchers discharging. Heavy machine guns and rocket launchers were targeting armored vehicles. Judging from the weapons deployed, the situation had shifted. The battlefield was vast; as mere infantrymen, they could only see the small patch in front of them and were responsible solely for eliminating whatever stood in their way. Sokholov made a hand signal, gesturing for Team 3 to keep moving. Just then, Sokholov's walkie-talkie crackled. "A battalion from the motorized rifle brigade is waiting behind us! The corridor we opened is the main axis of attack for the 57th Motorized Rifle Brigade! Combat engineers are clearing a safe passage. We need to clear out the enemies holed up in the trenches to secure working conditions for the engineers. By my order: all units eliminate enemies along your advance by any means necessary, at all costs! We are very close to victory!" Sokholov heard the company commander's voice; this was a broadcast to all participating units across E Company. Sokholov said nothing. Stepping up against the trench wall, he raised his head to look back in the direction they had come. He could see more than a dozen armored engineering vehicles crawling forward. Mine-clearing vehicles, armored bulldozers, and various other armored vehicles moved slowly, as enemy resistance was far from broken. After artillery carpeted the ground and infantry pushed in to capture the forward positions, combat engineers were able to clear the anti-tank minebelts on the forward positions and use bulldozers to fill the anti-tank ditches. Now the engineers needed to sweep the minebelt between the forward positions and the main position so tanks and armored vehicles could roll directly onto the enemy lines. The infantry had pushed into the Ukrainian main position but were locked in a grueling struggle. If reinforced by the motorized rifle brigade, they could shatter the entire Ukrainian defensive line in one stroke. Yet if the enemies on the main position were not cleared, the engineers could not conduct mine-clearing or open a safe passage for tanks and armored vehicles. Wagner mercenaries took on missions with the highest fatality rates, while the Russian 57th Motorized Rifle Brigade followed behind to reap the greatest spoils. Put nicely, it was a clear division of labor, but remembering that one's own role was to die always stoked an inescapable surge of anger. No need for words. Spot an enemy, eliminate the enemy. Taking out the handful of hostiles in front of them had little impact on the wider battlefield, but the final outcome of the battle was forged by small localized engagements just like this. Enemy soldiers were targeting the mine-clearing vehicles with rocket launchers. That was a good sign; it meant their attention was fixed on the distant armored targets rather than the nearby trenches. *Whoosh!* The sound was distinctly different—far louder than an RPG launch. Sokholov glanced back again and saw a bobbing red dot streak across the air, slamming directly into an armored bulldozer. An anti-tank missile. The anti-tank missile obliterated an armored bulldozer mid-operation. Sokholov pulled his eyes away and waved for Team 3 to halt. He knew the missile had been launched from nearby—very close—but finding this pocket of enemies would mean navigating who knew how many corners and winding trenches. Going above ground would make things simple: stand up, take a look, and locate the enemy anti-tank position. The price, however, was getting turned into a sieve in an instant. "Assault Platoon, 1st Squad calling Company Command, over." Sokholov barked into his walkie-talkie, but only static crackled in return. Sokholov shook his head. He switched on the captured Motorola radio and called again. "Assault Platoon, 1st Squad calling Company Command, over." This time there was no electrical static, yet still no reply. "This is Assault Platoon, 1st Squad. There is an anti-tank position ahead of us. I need their precise coordinates. Acknowledge, over." A drone reconnaissance sweep would have spared them all this trouble, but their wretched communication system left no such option. Sokholov gritted his teeth. "Platoon Leader, acknowledge! Over." Still no response. "Calling for fire support! Can anyone hear me? Suka! Anyone who can hear, respond, over!" Still nothing. Sokholov was furious enough to smash the radio. No other way—they had to push in directly. Sokholov quickly pushed past the men from the rear to the very front. Flashing a hand signal, he said, "Assault men ready, prep hand grenades..." At that moment, Samir abruptly signaled a halt, then gestured for Sokholov to come over. Sokholov looked at Samir with confusion. Samir leaned in and whispered, "The enemy is at our ten o'clock, about forty meters out. Their anti-tank missile is set up outside, and they have cover when firing rocket launchers. Ahead is a reinforced fortification—mortars won't do anything." Sokholov blinked, staring at Samir in bewilderment. "What?" "The heavy machine gun is firing from a semi-enclosed space; the acoustics are different. The rocket launchers are firing from open ground outside, and so is the anti-tank missile. That means their position combines a bunker with trench firing pits. They step out of the bunker to fire rockets, then duck back inside. Wait..." The heavy machine gun roared again. Samir stated with absolute certainty, "A machine-gun pillbox. The heavy machine gun is firing through an embrasure. It's a hybrid fortification combining open and covered positions. Blindly lobbing grenades won't do a thing; it'll only give away our position." Sokholov frowned at Samir and ordered, "Prep for assault. Team 3, fall back a step, prep hand grenades. Wait..." Sokholov glanced at Gao Fei. "Once Rex clears an attack corridor, Team 3 will move in on the enemy fortification and throw grenades. Glaski, prep suppressive fire. I need someone to volunteer as point man." If the enemy was alert, this point man would essentially be charging out to catch bullets with his flesh. That was exactly what the previous 1st Squad leader had just done. No one spoke. Sokholov could order someone forward to die, or he could shout "Follow me" and charge in himself. Sokholov was preparing to step up himself— —when Andrey suddenly spoke up. "Does this count as combat merit? Does it count as major combat merit on my contract?" Sokholov nodded. "It counts. It definitely counts." Andrey let out a breath. "Then I'll do it!"