GWOT 1 Overrun - NI

GWOT 1 Overrun - NI

[Note: NI stands for Not Indexed, meaning that the author has to go back and put this on the index page. Overrun is very early in GWOT, even before Pink Terror]

"Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! Fuck."

I realized that the voice cursing was my own.

The red star shell was curving a graceful arc over A building, bringing everyone's forcible attention to the fact that we were in really, really deep shit.

With my luck it would land on the roof and start a fire. But I had aimed well and it burned out near the end of its arc.

There is an acronym in the military called SALUTE, for reporting observations about an enemy. It stands for Size, Activity, Location, Unit Identification, Time and Equipment.

This is a little more complicated than security's classic Who, What, When, Where and How.

Size: eight vehicles, about numbers 30 troops. One vehicle is a 4x4 monster pickup truck. One vehicle is an oversize Jeep with a big metal pipe sticking up from the back - in military terms, a "hardpoint," with a literal Jesus Fucking Christ machine gun on it.

Activity: kicking our asses. To be specific, blowing their way through the South Gate and presumably murdering the two sentries posted there, pausing briefly to shoot up our excuse for a motor pool in Building A parking lot, and now dismounting to enter and attack Building A, first floor through both of the ground level entrances.

Location: as above.

Unit Identification: who the fuck knows? Wearing basic tactical black for the most part, with some blue jeans mixed in, and wearing unmarked body armor. Not police. Not soldiers. But they moved like troops in squads of four, leaders wearing radios.

Time: right fucking now. As in six days after the Firecracker War.

Equipment: one medium machine gun on a hardpoint, one light machine gun in a squad of riflemen protecting it, helmets that made them look like scuttling beetles, and lots of rifles and pistols.

*BOOM*

And also grenades.

It was time to get it stuck in.

If we let them overrun Building A, they could consolidate and take the site.

What I had to oppose them with -- now that the motor pool was on fire, my perimeter guards were out of it or dead, and the employees were running screaming in all directions -- was a nucleus of six armed security guards and two Employees with rifles.

Not enough. Fuck, fuck ... I stopped my litany.

We needed more shooters on the line. And I knew just where to get them.

One more thing I needed to do, to disrupt the enemy management of the battlefield.

I shouldered my rifle. I took careful aim. I lined up the rear sight on the front sight. I sighed slightly and fired several spaced rounds.

The enemy officer, the one running next to the machine gun squad carrying two radios with another enemy carrying a backpack staying by him, tripped and fell as if he had run into something.

He did not get up.

As I in turn slung my rifle and ran away, broken field style and zigging and zagging, I heard cracks behind me. Return fire.

I would find out the hard way if any of them hit.

I made it behind the low rise in the hill alive. I kept running.

Two Employees started following me.

"No!" I shouted.

They followed anyway.

I did not stop when I heard one do a face plant on the ground.

They had been safer in cover. But seeing me running, they had started running as well.

I was not running away. I was running to go do something.

I made it to the breezeway to B building. Two guards were there.

I slowed to a walk.

"Orders! Hold this point! I'm getting us some help!"

The guards flinched as I moved past, but held their ground. One knelt behind a breezeway stanchion. The other started laying out ammunition magazines on the ground in front of her. I've got to get her name, if we live through this.

Then I kept running. I was headed to C building. But I had a chore to do first. I hadn't heard the PA system go off.

I ran into the Security Office. Several guards were there. Most were armed. None knew what to do.

"Attention to orders!" I barked. "You, you and you, go next door, get the rifles off the racks with the spare ammunition. Go to the breezeway between A and B right now! Take a radio! Move!"

Then I walked to the PA system, deliberately took two deep breaths, flicked the switch from "COLD" to "LIVE", and pushed the TALK button on the microphone without which it would not work.

"Attention," my voice boomed out over the PA system, in the corridors and the hallways and outdoors. "Attention. We are under armed attack by many armed intruders. I say again, we are under attack by many armed intruders. Lock all exterior doors immediately! If you have a firearm, defend the first floor to your building immediately! Lock all exterior doors immediately! If you do not have a firearm, go to C dock, 1st floor, to be issued a firearm!"

I paused.

"This is for real. Lock all exterior doors now! The rally point is C dock, 1st floor! Hold what you have and kill the sons of bitches!"

I let go of the mike and turned to the dispatcher, who had a great view of A building and the A-B breezeway up on monitors.

"Keep the PA system going. Switch a radio net over to Management and repeat the same message. And get a fucking rifle out!"

I did not check to see if he would comply. Instead I went to the master control console. Not all buildings were on the system, but those that were, I could do some interesting things with.

C building, EMERGENCY ACCESS ONLY. Only Security and Manager badges would now work on the doors.

D and E were on their own. Not on the system.

F and G building, PANIC LOCKOUT. No badges would work on those doors. Period.

H building was not on the system as yet. Too damn bad. So I called the Security post at H1.

"Control to H1, lock the fucking doors. Get up and use the bicycle lock in the desk to lock the doors from inside. Do not open them until it's all over!"

Then I ran out the door to C1.

Two guards were arguing with a crowd of employees.

"I need authorization," one was saying when I shouted at the top of my lungs.

"AUTHORIZED!"

The guards immediately unlocked the door and were crowded out of the way by the Employees rushing in.

This was the room in which we had been collecting the weapons picked up on our desperate convoy runs, rescuing our employees from the hell of the post Firecracker Bay Area. A Hell that had followed them here.

We couldn't call it an armory. We barely had a list of firearms and no time to record who we were handling them to. Ammo was kept on shelves next to piles of guns on tables.

I found myself leading a pack of Employees all of whom had firearms. About numbers thirty of them.

"We need to hold between A and B!" I shouted as we ran forward towards the fight.

When we reached the breezeway, both my guards were down. The male guard was holding his stomach and moaning. His intestines were spilled out around his hands in a greasy parody of sausages. The female guard was lying on the concrete, bleeding from her forehead where concrete chips had gouged her, and pausing between single spaced shots.

The moment she saw us, she shouted "I need ammo!"

This caused two things to happen - an Employee gave her a bandolier of rifle magazines and the enemy made a concerted rush forward.

Right into our massed fire.

Nice.

But this wasn't over yet.

Not by a long shot.