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strobing beacon overhead. And soggy grass wouldn't move back into position as quickly. They would leave a clear trail to any observer in the air.
    "Watch your intervals," Joe warned. That was such a routine admonishment that he scarcely thought about it. "Keep those columns narrow. Don't bend any more of this grass than necessary."
    For the third time in five minutes, Joe glanced at the power gauge on his rifle. The needle hadn't moved a whisker. Since he hadn't fired the weapon, the needle shouldn't have moved. He dragged a sleeve across his visor to get the water off of it. Working in the rain, that could be a frequent chore.
    Lieutenant Keye passed along word for the platoon sergeants to listen in on one of the tactical radio channels. Someone from one of the recon platoons was providing a running commentary of Heggie movements. The reccers were close enough to give head counts on the number of Heggies in some of the trucks.
    Almost like they're hanging on the blower skirts, Joe thought. He shook his head, just slightly amazed at how well the reccers did their job.
    Echo didn't need the full twenty minutes to get into position. Seventeen minutes after Keye gave the noncoms their orders, the company moved into a skirmish line and started advancing more slowly. Two of the enemy tanks were in sight, less than two hundred meters away. The main Heggie column was just beyond those Novas and moving slowly. It looked as if they were stopping.
    "Down!" Joe told his platoon, relaying an order from the lieutenant. "Wait for the Havocs."
    Joe took the safety off on his zipper as soon as he had a comfortable prone firing position. At this range, the Armanoc wouldn't be of much use except to suppress accurate enemy small arms fire. When wire was whizzing around your head, you couldn't tell how far away it was coming from, and the Dupuy rocket-assist rifles, the snipers' "cough" gun, could provide enough casualties to keep the enemy from being certain.
    The wait for the start of the artillery barrage seemed far longer than three minutes. Joe concentrated on breathing regularly. It was too easy to forget, to hold his breath. Experience did not preclude pre-battle jitters. Joe knew what the next minutes might bring.
    Finally, he heard the sounds of the Havocs firing. There was no way in the universe to put a silencer on a 200mm cannon. Even at a distance of several kilometers, the sound of thirty-two howitzers firing at once could be heard. Joe suspected that even the Heggies would be able to hear over the noises made by the tanks and trucks they were riding in.
    Maybe the big guns will get all of these Heggies, Joe thought, knowing it was wishful thinking. The Havocs might be accurate and lethal, but the Heggie trucks and tanks were still moving, if slowly, and they were dispersed enough to give them some chance. There always seemed to be work left for the mudders. No matter how massive the artillery preparation, some soldiers always survived... often, a majority of them.
    The prairie in front of Echo erupted in a sudden taste of hell. The Havoc rounds made little noise coming in, and it was only in the last fraction of a second that there was even a chance of getting a fleeting glimpse of one of the shells. Thirty-two suspended plasma rounds went off together, no more than a second separating the first from the last. Several rockets, slower and more easily visible, came in. It looked as if at least two Wasps had come to contribute to the fight. Fiery clouds rose and expanded. Joe ducked just as he saw one of the tanks explode. The turret seemed to rise five meters above the chassis below it. For a few seconds, after the first thunder of the explosions, Joe could hear nothing but a hollow ringing in his ears. As that cleared, he could hear the crackling sound of burning grass. That didn't last long. The prairie grass was too damp to burn well.
    But not all of the fires went out. There were tanks and trucks burning. Their hydrogen fuel