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.Know how a man fights and you know what he is and how he thinks: the words ran through him like an echo.Who& Pa, of course; that was one of his favorite maxims.How had the German commander reacted? Well, ruthlessly, to begin with.He had sacrificed that warcarto gain information.Not afraid of casualties, then.Bold, ready to gamble; he'd tried to rush through withno more than two companies, to push as far up the pass as he could before the Draka solidified theirdefense.Eric opened slitted eyes, scratched at the itching yellow stubble under his chin.Damnation, I wish I hadmore information.Well, what soldier didn't? And he wished he could have spent more time with thepartisan leader, pumped him for details, but it was necessary to send him off to contact the others, ifanything valuable was to come of that.After showing him enough dead Germans to put some spirit in himand backbone back into his followers, not to mention what Dreiser had done, that was good work.Escape from the cauldron of death that Russia had become was a fine lure, glittering enough to furnishenthusi-asm, but so distant that it was not likely to make them cautious.But it would have been good to learn a little more about this man Hoth in Pyatigorsk.Still& there hadbeen a bull-like quality to the attack.Plenty of energy, reasonable skill, but not the unexpected, thesimple after-the-fact novelty that marked a really inspired touch.TheLiebstandarte had always been amechanized unit, no doubt the SS commander knew the value of mobility, but did he understand it was asmuch anattitude as a technique? Or was he wedded to his tanks and carriers, even when the terrain andcircumstances were wrong?What was that speech of Pa's again?Don't think in terms of specific problems, think in terms of thetask.A commander who was a tactician and nothing else would look at the Draka position in the villageand think of how to crush it; one problem at a time.Iwould have tried something different , he thought.Hmmmm, maybe waiting until dark, using the time to bring up reserves, filtered infantry throughthe woods in the dark and then attacked from both sides.It was impossible to bypass the villagecompletely, it sat here in the pass like a fishbone in a throat; but there were ways to keep to the principleof attacking weakness rather than strength& Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlWays to manipulate the enemy, as well.Pa again:If you hurt him, an untrained man will focus on thepain.In rage, if he's brave and a fighter; without realizing that even so he's allowing you to directhis attention, that your Will is master.Eric had found that true in personal combat; so few could justaccept a hurt, keep centered, prevent their mind's eye from rushing to the sensory input of the threatenedspot.The way some chess players focused on this check rather than the mate five moves into the future.Discipline, discipline in your soul; you aren't a man until you can command yourself, body as wellasmind.Without inner discipline a man is nothing more than a leopard that thinks, and you can rulehim with a whip and a chair until he jumps through hoops.He reached for the handphone of the radio, brushing aside an old resentment.Soyou're a bastard, I'mnot so stupid I can't see when you're right , he thought at the absent form of Karl von Shrakenburg.Three quick clicks, two slow: recognition signal for the mortars.Focus on the valley below: the Germanpanzergrenadiers falling back from the edge of the woods, dragging their hurt, the SS armor opening upagain on the bunker positions, trying to keep the gunners' heads down and cover the retreat.Brightmuzzle flashes, the heavycrack of high-velocity shot.Flickering wink of automatic weapons, and thesound of the jacketed bullets on rock, like a thousand ball peen hammers ringing on a girder.Stone rang;raw new-cut timber shifted and creaked as the shellswhumped against rock and dirt filtered down fromabove and into his collar.He sneezed, hawked, spat grit out of his mouth, blinking back to the brightnessof the vision slit.Waitfor it, wait for it.Now: now they were clustered around their vehicles."Firefall," he said.Thick rock hid the sound of the automortars firing, thefumpfumpfump as their recoil-operatedmechanisms stripped shells out of the hoppers and into the stubby smooth-bore barrels.Eric raised thefield glasses to his eyes; he could see a flinching as the veterans among the SS troopers dove for cover ortheir APC's, whichever was closest.Survivors, who knew what to expect.Rifles and machine-guns pininfantrymen, force them to cover, but it is artillery that does the killing, from overhead, where even afoxhole is little help.And all foot soldiers detest mortars even more than other guns; mortar bombs dropout of the sky and spread fragments all around them rather than in the narrow cone of a gun shell.Muchless chance to survive a near miss, and there is more explosive in a mortar's round than an artillery shell,which needs a thick steel wall to survive firing stresses.CRASH.CRASHCRASHCRASH & Tiny stick figures running, falling, lifting into the air with flailinglimbs.Lightning-wink flashes from the explosions, each with its puff of smoke.Imagination furnished therest, and memory: raw pink of sliced bone glistening in opened flesh; screaming and the low whimperingthat was worse; men in shock staring with unbelief at the wreck of selves that had been whole fractions ofa second before; the whirring hum of jagged cast-iron casing fragments flying too fast to see and thecringing helplessness of being under attack with no means of striking back&"Sofie," he said.She started, forcing her attention back from the distant vehicles."Ya, sir?""Can you break me into the Fritz command circuit?" The SS personnel carriers were buttoning up, thehale dragging wounded up the ramps and doors winching shut.Even thin armor would protect againstblast and fragments.The tanks had raised their muzzles, dropping high-explosive rounds in the village on Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlthe chance of finding the mortar teams that were punishing their comrades.Brave, since it risked morefire from the antitank guns in the forward positions, but hopeless.More hopeless than the Germanssuspected; there were only three of the automortars with the Draka, their rate of fire giving them theimpact of a century of conventional weapons.At that, the shells were falling more slowly, one weapon ata time taking up the bombardment, to save ammunition and spare the other barrels from heat buildup.Another of TechSec's marvels, another nightmare for the supply officers, a detached portion of Eric'smind thought [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Know how a man fights and you know what he is and how he thinks: the words ran through him like an echo.Who& Pa, of course; that was one of his favorite maxims.How had the German commander reacted? Well, ruthlessly, to begin with.He had sacrificed that warcarto gain information.Not afraid of casualties, then.Bold, ready to gamble; he'd tried to rush through withno more than two companies, to push as far up the pass as he could before the Draka solidified theirdefense.Eric opened slitted eyes, scratched at the itching yellow stubble under his chin.Damnation, I wish I hadmore information.Well, what soldier didn't? And he wished he could have spent more time with thepartisan leader, pumped him for details, but it was necessary to send him off to contact the others, ifanything valuable was to come of that.After showing him enough dead Germans to put some spirit in himand backbone back into his followers, not to mention what Dreiser had done, that was good work.Escape from the cauldron of death that Russia had become was a fine lure, glittering enough to furnishenthusi-asm, but so distant that it was not likely to make them cautious.But it would have been good to learn a little more about this man Hoth in Pyatigorsk.Still& there hadbeen a bull-like quality to the attack.Plenty of energy, reasonable skill, but not the unexpected, thesimple after-the-fact novelty that marked a really inspired touch.TheLiebstandarte had always been amechanized unit, no doubt the SS commander knew the value of mobility, but did he understand it was asmuch anattitude as a technique? Or was he wedded to his tanks and carriers, even when the terrain andcircumstances were wrong?What was that speech of Pa's again?Don't think in terms of specific problems, think in terms of thetask.A commander who was a tactician and nothing else would look at the Draka position in the villageand think of how to crush it; one problem at a time.Iwould have tried something different , he thought.Hmmmm, maybe waiting until dark, using the time to bring up reserves, filtered infantry throughthe woods in the dark and then attacked from both sides.It was impossible to bypass the villagecompletely, it sat here in the pass like a fishbone in a throat; but there were ways to keep to the principleof attacking weakness rather than strength& Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlWays to manipulate the enemy, as well.Pa again:If you hurt him, an untrained man will focus on thepain.In rage, if he's brave and a fighter; without realizing that even so he's allowing you to directhis attention, that your Will is master.Eric had found that true in personal combat; so few could justaccept a hurt, keep centered, prevent their mind's eye from rushing to the sensory input of the threatenedspot.The way some chess players focused on this check rather than the mate five moves into the future.Discipline, discipline in your soul; you aren't a man until you can command yourself, body as wellasmind.Without inner discipline a man is nothing more than a leopard that thinks, and you can rulehim with a whip and a chair until he jumps through hoops.He reached for the handphone of the radio, brushing aside an old resentment.Soyou're a bastard, I'mnot so stupid I can't see when you're right , he thought at the absent form of Karl von Shrakenburg.Three quick clicks, two slow: recognition signal for the mortars.Focus on the valley below: the Germanpanzergrenadiers falling back from the edge of the woods, dragging their hurt, the SS armor opening upagain on the bunker positions, trying to keep the gunners' heads down and cover the retreat.Brightmuzzle flashes, the heavycrack of high-velocity shot.Flickering wink of automatic weapons, and thesound of the jacketed bullets on rock, like a thousand ball peen hammers ringing on a girder.Stone rang;raw new-cut timber shifted and creaked as the shellswhumped against rock and dirt filtered down fromabove and into his collar.He sneezed, hawked, spat grit out of his mouth, blinking back to the brightnessof the vision slit.Waitfor it, wait for it.Now: now they were clustered around their vehicles."Firefall," he said.Thick rock hid the sound of the automortars firing, thefumpfumpfump as their recoil-operatedmechanisms stripped shells out of the hoppers and into the stubby smooth-bore barrels.Eric raised thefield glasses to his eyes; he could see a flinching as the veterans among the SS troopers dove for cover ortheir APC's, whichever was closest.Survivors, who knew what to expect.Rifles and machine-guns pininfantrymen, force them to cover, but it is artillery that does the killing, from overhead, where even afoxhole is little help.And all foot soldiers detest mortars even more than other guns; mortar bombs dropout of the sky and spread fragments all around them rather than in the narrow cone of a gun shell.Muchless chance to survive a near miss, and there is more explosive in a mortar's round than an artillery shell,which needs a thick steel wall to survive firing stresses.CRASH.CRASHCRASHCRASH & Tiny stick figures running, falling, lifting into the air with flailinglimbs.Lightning-wink flashes from the explosions, each with its puff of smoke.Imagination furnished therest, and memory: raw pink of sliced bone glistening in opened flesh; screaming and the low whimperingthat was worse; men in shock staring with unbelief at the wreck of selves that had been whole fractions ofa second before; the whirring hum of jagged cast-iron casing fragments flying too fast to see and thecringing helplessness of being under attack with no means of striking back&"Sofie," he said.She started, forcing her attention back from the distant vehicles."Ya, sir?""Can you break me into the Fritz command circuit?" The SS personnel carriers were buttoning up, thehale dragging wounded up the ramps and doors winching shut.Even thin armor would protect againstblast and fragments.The tanks had raised their muzzles, dropping high-explosive rounds in the village on Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlthe chance of finding the mortar teams that were punishing their comrades.Brave, since it risked morefire from the antitank guns in the forward positions, but hopeless.More hopeless than the Germanssuspected; there were only three of the automortars with the Draka, their rate of fire giving them theimpact of a century of conventional weapons.At that, the shells were falling more slowly, one weapon ata time taking up the bombardment, to save ammunition and spare the other barrels from heat buildup.Another of TechSec's marvels, another nightmare for the supply officers, a detached portion of Eric'smind thought [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]