Artillery Fire

Gao Fei had made no mistakes, yet he had come within an inch of being broken by the enemy. The enemy hadn't made mistakes either, but because they failed to break Gao Fei and his squad, their assault was turned right around and shattered by Gao Fei. That was how the battlefield worked. No matter how formidable an individual was, one man could not decide an entire war. Without his comrades' help, Gao Fei would be dead; but because they carried him through the most perilous crisis, he had the chance to turn the tide on this small patch of ground. Gao Fei stood once more at the lip of the trench, having earned another chance to eliminate the enemy from a safe distance. Gao Fei was the kind of man who could work miracles in localized sectors. In the grand scheme of the Bakhmut battlefield, the role he played was negligible, but for the position held by 1st Squad, his presence had saved countless lives. He raised his rifle, but no more enemies were visible. The first wave committed to the assault had already been wiped out. Would the battle end here? The battle wasn't over, nor would it end just like that. Had the enemy sent only a single fireteam on an infiltration raid, the fight would indeed be over by now. But the enemy had at least a company. An assault on this scale was by no means a probing attack, nor was it the sort where a frontline commander could simply decide to call off the offensive after leaving behind a dozen corpses. Judging by the numbers, the enemy had launched a general offensive. Once a general offensive began, the forward assault unit had no choice but to keep fighting until every last man was dead. They would either die advancing, or be gunned down by barrier troops retreating. There was a third possibility: caught in a dilemma, pinned down where they were unable to move, and killed in a Russian counterattack right on their current position. So there was no point harboring illusions. With this wave turned back, the enemy would reorganize for another assault immediately. Gao Fei propped his rifle up and waited a few seconds before seeing the second wave of enemies crawl out of their trench. Attacking in squad-sized elements, they committed roughly a dozen men each time, and the main point of effort was right where Gao Fei stood. Either every last enemy was gunned down before they left their jump-off position, or the defenders would be overwhelmed by wave upon wave of assaults. With Gao Fei there, the enemy had no chance of ending the fight through an infantry charge—because Gao Fei genuinely gave them no opening. He fired twice, dropping two enemies just as they scrambled out of the trench, and the rest who were shouting and poking their heads up ducked right back down in unison. There was nothing wrong with the pacing of the enemy's attack waves. Under normal combat conditions, this was the standard interval: as the first wave pushed forward, the second wave followed immediately behind it. But with Gao Fei there, what should have been a normal interval became a fatal mistake. Gao Fei ended fights far too quickly, turning the enemy's normally timed second wave into walking straight into the muzzle of his rifle. The enemy pulled back. Knowing they wouldn't launch another attack right away, Gao Fei yelled toward Samir, "Ask Glaski how things are on their end!" Gao Fei was deafened; he had no way to check on Glaski himself, and he worried Glaski's position had already fallen. Before Samir could ask, two soldiers came running over from the left flank Glaski was defending. "We're here to reinforce your firepower." That Glaski had actually spared two men to support Gao Fei indicated the situation on his end was comparatively good. Without consulting Gao Fei, Samir urgently yelled at the two reinforcements, "Go back! Get back right now! The enemy will definitely switch directions—your side will take the brunt next time!" During the first wave, the pressure had fallen mainly on Gao Fei's side. Terrain dictated assaults. Scrambling out of the communication trench, sprinting across open, coverless ground to the edge of the defenders' trench, and jumping in was perilous, as it exposed them to fire from rear positions that weren't suppressed by artillery. Thus the enemy also had to minimize their assault distance. Under those constraints, they couldn't deploy in a wide line along the communication trench, let alone commit everyone all at once to seize the trench. It wasn't that the enemy was foolish or that Gao Fei and his comrades were clever; the terrain dictated that the combat could only unfold on this small scale. When all was said and done, they still had Andrey to thank for collapsing the communication trench. Had the communication trench stayed intact, that last assault would have wiped Gao Fei out completely, and everyone would have died. The two reinforcing soldiers immediately turned and hurried back, while four more soldiers came rushing over from D Company's position. Taking advantage of the lull between attacks, they shuffled forces to quickly redeploy fighting positions. Now came the decision: fight to the end or pull back. Judging by their operational doctrine, the enemy weren't fools; they were at least a seasoned unit. And faced with the current deadlock, any seasoned unit would do only one thing next. Call in the mortars for another barrage. Repeat the previous attack pattern all over again. And this time, they certainly wouldn't send just a single squad. Any barely competent commander would know to reinforce the assaulting firepower. With an overwhelming numerical superiority, the enemy could treat the first wave as a reconnaissance in force, absorb the loss of a dozen men, and immediately organize an assault on an even larger scale. Exactly as Gao Fei anticipated, after only a brief pause, Samir began shouting again: "Mortars!" Unable to hear, one dared not dive for cover for fear of an enemy charge; yet waiting to dive until hearing the screech of incoming mortar shells was often too late, leaving one exposed to a direct blast. That was combat: no fancy tricks, no flashy moves, just rounds and shells aimed straight at your head. Any so-called tactical maneuvers were pure bullshit. You either braved it out and gambled that a shell wouldn't land beside you, or dived into an artillery shelter and waited for the enemy to close in for another round of hand-to-hand combat. This time, Gao Fei chose to gamble his life. He would rather bet that a shell wouldn't land next to him than let the enemy jump into the trench again. A choice between two evils, a gamble on luck—fair to both sides. Suppressing his terror, Gao Fei didn't budge. Sure enough, as mortar shells detonated in thunderous blasts all around him, he saw enemies swarm out of the communication trench, howling as they charged his position. In truth, the attackers faced no less risk than the defenders; the odds of them suffering friendly fire from their own mortars were even higher than for Gao Fei's squad. Gao Fei opened fire, shooting in rapid succession. Every shot dropped an enemy, but with at least thirty men scrambling out of the communication trench, there was no turning back for them. Gao Fei fired with blistering speed, dropping seven men just as the charge began. His efficiency was terrifying, yet Lady Luck wouldn't favor him forever. With an ear-splitting roar, Gao Fei's vision went black, and his ability to shoot vanished in an instant. Without even knowing where the shell had struck, his legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed into the trench. The dizziness hit fast and receded excruciatingly slowly. His ears rang furiously, and the world spun in violent circles before his eyes, yet he hadn't lost mobility, nor did he feel pain anywhere on his body. So Gao Fei braced one hand against the dirt wall, gripping his rifle with the other as he stood up once more. That brief pause had allowed the enemy to close the distance significantly. Gao Fei tried to hold the rifle with both hands, but after firing a shot and seeing it miss, he simply held down the trigger, emptying the entire magazine into them. Pushing through the disorientation, Gao Fei emptied the full magazine. Not everyone made the same choice as Gao Fei. Gao Fei chose to push his luck and gamble that the shells wouldn't kill him, but the others had chosen to duck the bombardment first. Yet upon seeing Gao Fei refuse to take cover, choosing to fire even at the risk of his life, Samir and Andrey stood back up and opened fire on the charging enemy. Gao Fei ducked down. He wanted to swap weapons, but seeing no spare rifle within arm's reach, his trembling hands drew a fresh magazine from his chest rig. He ejected the empty magazine, slapped the full one in, stood back up, and shakily emptied that magazine as well. The reinforcements from D Company were slightly slower to react, but galvanized by seeing Gao Fei and his companions keep shooting, 1st Squad's right-flank position mounted a fierce counterattack under the mortar bombardment. They cut down most of the attackers mid-charge, forcing the survivors to throw themselves flat on the ground. This hadn't repelled the enemy's assault; it had merely pinned them down halfway. Despair gripped Samir. He screamed, "Take cover—!" For another barrage of shells was already on its way. At a moment like this, mortars were more terrifying than heavy artillery. If one attack failed, the enemy would launch another, and without a cease-fire order from the forward commander, the mortar positions would keep up continuous fire. There was an interval between barrages, but the enemy would soon saturate that gap with even more shells. Knowing exactly how the enemy would fight yet being utterly powerless to resist—that was true despair. If they didn't leave now, they wouldn't even have a chance to flee. Samir looked at Andrey and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Take Rex and run!" Andrey's hearing was even worse than Gao Fei's. Samir broke into a run toward Gao Fei; shouting wasn't going to work, he had to physically drag him away. Right then, a brief yet far more ferocious whistle suddenly shrieked through the air. Immediately following it came explosions and shockwaves many times more powerful, with massive detonations that began crashing down on the enemy's positions. The earth shuddered. The shells concentrated within a tight corridor, slamming down almost directly on top of the enemy; the blast pattern clearly walked right along the communication trench. Naturally, not every shell could drop squarely into the trench, but given how tightly packed the enemy troops were, even one or two direct hits spelled utter catastrophe. This was no indiscriminate barrage; this was precision lethal fire targeted specifically at the attacking force—the exact support fire the frontline troops desperately needed. It was lifesaving artillery fire. Problems infantry couldn't solve were completely settled by this single barrage. The battlefield didn't care about reason; it cared only about firepower. Gao Fei stared dumbstruck, his shock swiftly giving way to sheer euphoria. Samir had already grabbed Gao Fei by the shoulder, but the moment those shells landed, any thought of retreating vanished from his mind. "Artillery—they finally—!" Samir shrieked in a voice so shrill and piercing he sounded like an old woman. After shrieking, Samir suddenly pointed at the walkie-talkie clipped to Gao Fei's chest and screamed, "Someone's calling you!" "Rex, Rex, come in! Fire support is on station! Hold on, Rex, come in! You're not dead, are you? Fuck!" Gao Fei couldn't hear a thing, so he naturally had no idea anyone was calling him. Looking as if he'd seen a ghost, Samir snatched up the walkie-talkie and shrieked into it, "Rex isn't dead! He's just deaf!" Gao Fei looked at Samir, utterly baffled. Samir released the push-to-talk and shouted, "Parker! It's Parker! It's Parker!" Parker's voice came through the walkie-talkie once more, sounding immensely relieved: "Very good. I've established radio contact with you. Call in fire support whenever you need it. And protect Rex. Thanks. Out."