Note:
The last chapter for Summoning America will be released on November 18.
– –
Malmund Pass, Mu
"All Longhorn elements," Bennett said over the platoon net. "Engage."
The valley lit up with the blasts of their cannons, the retort of the LAVs' chain guns, and the screeching of TOWs from the humvees and the LAVs that happened to be of the AT variant. Joining in were occasional thumps from an M252 mortar, launched by their lone LAV-M.
Bennett watched through his optics as the Gra Valkan column rolled into view, his unit still well beyond the effective range of the enemy's outdated guns. He smiled grimly. A battle? More like target practice.
Bennett's voice cut through the intercom: "Target, Wilder, 12 o'clock, 3200 meters."
"Identified," Cooper responded immediately.
The fire control system quickly calculated the firing solution.
"On the way!" Cooper called out, squeezing the trigger.
The Booker shuddered as its main gun fired, the boom reverberating through Bennett's body. Through his sight, he watched the round streak downrange, leaving a faint trail in the air. In less than two seconds, it struck the Gra Valkan tank dead center.
The APFSDS round punched through the outdated armor like it was tissue paper, spalling the interior. Bennett knew the crew inside was dead instantly, turned to pink mist by the hypervelocity fragments of their own tank's armor.
The Gra Valkan column lurched to a stop, clearly caught off guard by the hit from beyond their visual range. The stricken tank sat motionless, a small hole in its turret the only external sign of the devastation within.
Then, as the tank's ammunition began to cook off, secondary explosions ripped through the vehicle. Only now did it erupt into flames, a pillar of black smoke rising into the sky.
Tanks facing 25mm APDS-T rounds didn't fare any better, the thick Wilder armor melting in the face of modern SABOT technology. The TOWs? Well, they damn near annihilated their targets. And the 81mm mortars? Hell, the enemy's clumped up light armor didn't stand a chance. The message was clear: the Gra Valkans were hopelessly outmatched.
By then, they'd already moved on. "Target destroyed," Cooper reported, already scanning for the next threat.
"Load sabot!" Bennett ordered.
"Up!" came Castillo's response moments later.
As the loader rammed another round home, Bennett's eyes gleamed as he surveyed the battlefield. Hot damn, they were completely disarrayed.
Tank after tank, trapped in the killzone like it was some kinda parade. Their front line was thrown into chaos, vehicles scrambling to reverse only to bump into a traffic jam of their own design. This wasn't a battle, it was a goddamn shooting gallery.
Part of him almost felt bad. Almost. But mostly, he was itching to see what these Bookers could really do. All that training, all those simulations - this was the real deal. The Valkies should've had their own simulations. Or did they? Who knows if they'd actually studied up on what they'd done in Louria, in Parpaldia, and in the Grameus continent. Granted, there weren't that many examples of Abrams, let alone Bookers, in action, but surely they would've realized what American firepower looked like.
"Target, Wilder, 11 o'clock, 3100 meters," Bennett called out.
"Identified. On the way!"
Another boom, another explosion in the distance.
