Another incoming shell detonated a kilometer short of Hill 541 North.The Republicans knew they couldn't do serious physical damage so long as the position was guarded by the Slammers' tanks . . . but they knew as well the psychological effect the constant probing fire had on the defenders.
For an instant Broglie's hard smile was back. "Or not a puzzle," he added. "A gun. Every part has to do the right job, or the gun doesn't work."
"Okay, we had our unit meeting," Des Grieux said. He squeezed his hands together so fiercely that his fingers were dark with trapped blood between the first and second joints. "Now can I get back to my tank where I can maybe do some good?"
"The AAD does everything that can be done, Sergeant," Lindgren said."That's what we need now. That and discipline."
Des Grieux stood up, though he had to bend forward to clear the bunker's low ceiling."Having the computer fire my guns,"he said with icy clarity, "is like jacking off. With respect."
Lindgren grimaced. "All right," he said. "You're all dismissed."
In an attempt to soften the previous exchange,he added,"There shouldn't be more than a few days of this."
But Des Grieux, ignoring the incoming fire, was already out of the bunker.
A howitzer fired from the center of the Federal position. The night outside the bunker glowed with the bottle-shaped yellow flash. There were fifteen tubes in the Federal batteries, but they were short of ammunition and rarely fired.
When they did, they invariably brought down a storm of Republican counterfire.
Des Grieux continued to walk steadily in the direction of
Not his reason for existence, though. Des Grieux existed to rip the enemy up one side and down the other. To do that he could use
He heard the scream of the shell—one round, from the northwest. He waited for the sky-tearing sound of
The Reps had launched a ground-hugging missile from the lower altitude of Hill 504.
