Preliminary surveys indicate that fully 24.9% of Battle Technology's readers are themselves MechWarriors or AeroSpace pilots, and that 48.8% have served in combat on the battlefields of the 31st Century. As a special service to those readers who rely on BattleTechnology as a means of keeping up with current battlefield tactics, we are pleased to introduce Battle Tips, a column dealing with individual and small unit (lance) tactics in combat. Future Battle Tips columns will be devoted to narratives by veteran warriors who will share their personal experiences in combat, and to in-depth analyses of the Mech-to-'Mech and man-to-man tactics which can spell the difference in modern battle between victoty and death. Many light 'Mechs can take on one heavy in street-to-street combat! [Editorial Note: Penobscot is the principal city on a world of deep forests and rugged mountains on the Marik-Steiner frontier. Named, it is believed, for an early colonial pioneer leader, the world itself is listed as Penobscot on most star charts, though the official designation is Tremaine IV. The city of Penobscot is a modern complex of steel and terrocrete structures sprawling from Penobscot Bay to the vast forests of the White Mountains. Late in September, 3022 (TC) a battalion of Mank raiders dropped on the outskirts of Penobscot City for reasons which are still not entirely clear. It is believed that factional conflict within the House Marik government had led Colonel Marcus Galliani to stage the raid in an effort to gain leverage against opponents on the Marik staff. Penobscot was garrisoned by a small force of veteran mercenaries, Varrick's Vandals, under the command of Colonel Charles Varrick. The Vandals, under contract to House Steiner put up a valiant resistance despite the overwhelming odds in both numbers and 'Mech tonnage against them. The following Battle Tips entry was submitted by Lieutenant David Fletcher, former recon lance commander of Varrick's Vandals.] Despite their numbers, we were in a good position. We'd fallen back into the central part of the city where we could take advantage of the cover offered by the taller structures. The Marik raiders didn't know for sure where we were, and they'd been forced to disperse in an effort to locate us and root us out. My lance consisted of my own Panther, Brad Finnegan's UrbanMech, Paula Mason's Wasp, and Fred Jurgens' Stinger. Fred's machine had already taken savage damage in an uneven passing encounter with a Marik Atlas. His 'Mech's left arm was hanging by a thread, and gaping craters showed in his front torso armor. All of the rest of us had taken hits, but we were determined to make a stand here, in the heart of the city, where the enemy's numbers and tonnage were at least partly balanced by the shelter of the surrounding buildings. Droman Avenue was one of the main thoroughfares in the city, a broad, straight avenue running east towards the domed hemisphere of the capitol, hemmed in by sturdy steel and ferrocrete structures averaging three and four stories in height. Many of the buildings were already showing damage from the Marik bombardment and air strikes, and rubble was spilling out across the street, but most were still standing and would provide excellent cover. We were certain that the enemy would use Droman Avenue as a direct pathway into the city's heart, and the battle-damaged buildings gave me an idea which might let us get a strike or two in before the enemy was able to concentrate enough to kick us out of the city. But the Marikforces would be on us soon. I gave my orders. Jurgens piloted his 'Mech into a narrow alley which entered Droman Avenue from the south. Paula positioned her Wasp in an alley opening opposite Jurgens' hiding place on the north side of the street. Finnegan and I chose hiding places sixty meters up Droman Avenue to the west, he inside a battle-damaged building on the north side of the street, myself inside the shattered front of an office building opposite him to the south. We entered our hiding places from the opposite sides of the buildings, partly to hide the fact of our entrance from observers on Droman Avenue, partly to provide ourselves with escape routes should we need them. Then came the waiting. We didn't have long to wait. Hidden away as we were behind massive facades of metal and ferrocrete, we couldn't use our 'Mech sensors. The first hint I had that the enemy was coming was the small avalanche of plaster and stone fragments rattling on my Panther's head and shoulder as something large and close jarred the pavement outside with ponderous, slow-motion footsteps. The rain of debris came harder and faster with each step. It wasn't long before my external mikes could pick up the lumbering thud-slam-thud of Mech footsteps approaching up the street from the west. The structure I was hidden in--already damaged by my unauthorized entrance--trembled, dancing with each footfall and threatening to bury my Panther once and for all in a cave-in of rubble. This approaching monster was big. It wasn't until a towering black mountain swept past the north windows of the building that I realized just what it was we were facing. There was no mistaking that silhouette, that massively armored, death's head skull, those jutting weapons. Atlas! The AS7-D Atlas is one of the deadliest, most feared BattleMechs ever fielded. It masses 100 tons. Where my Panther carries a Telos four-shot SRM launcher and a particle cannon, one of these monsters mounts weapons equivalent to a whole lance of lighter machines: four medium lasers; a massive, high-speed, 120 mm autocannon; a 20-rack launcher for long range missiles; and a six rack for its powerful SRMs. I broke out in a cold sweat. This was the machine which had almost casually straddled Jurgen's Stinger with a fusillade of autocannon and LRM fire less than twenty minutes before, and come within an ace of putting Jurgens down in a single exchange of fire. The results of Jurgens' return fire were visible on the Marik 'Mech's leg and torso armor: scorch marks from the Stinger's medium laser which had marred the paint and done little more. I had heard stories of Atlases in combat, how their arms were so strong they could pick up lesser 'Mechs with one hand and throw them down, how it had been suggested once that one Atlas could take on a battalion of Stingers, take everything they could dish out, and eliminate the smaller 'Mechs one by one with the ease of a man polishing off a plate of hors d'oeuvres. We couldn't stand against such a monster! The problem was, our trap was already laid. Paula and Fred were a few meters up the street, and the Atlas was certain to see them when it reached the alley openings where they waited. If they fled now, perhaps they would have a chance... But no, I knew those two too well. Even if they knew what horror was lumbering down the street towards their hiding places, they would not flee and leave Finnegan or myself to face the monster by ourselves. Nor could we remain in hiding and let the Atlas dismember our friends. I knew Finnegan would be waiting for me to make my move. As the shadow of that armored mountain swept past outside, I took a deep breath, struggling for calm. I would need all my wits about me for this one. Grasping my Panther's controls, I forced my 'Mech forward, into the north wall of the building. Glass and girders showered outward as I stepped through the collapsing face of the building and onto the street. Like a metal cliff, the back of the Atlas rose in front of me, a bare 30 meters to the east. An explosion of debris from across the street marked the appearance of Finnegan's UrbanMech. Had he been waiting for my appearance, or had he decided to take on the Atlas by himself? I never did learn the answer to that one, but I knew that Finnegan and Paula were very, very close. If I'd elected to pull out, I have no doubt that Finnegan would have chosen to stay and slug it out with the monster, rather than let Paula face it alone. We'd caught the Atlas by surprise, certainly. I stabbed my SRM firing button, sending my four SRMs screaming into my target. One missed, but the other three smashed in rapid-fire succession squarely into the monster's back. My PPC spat blue lightning, catching the Atlas as it began a ponderous turn and striking white fire along the rear portion of its left side. Armor fragments showered onto the street in molten globs. Finnegan's little 40 mm autocannon was barking close beside me, adding that weapon's firepower to the smoking damage already wreaked to the Atlas' back. His Mech's only other weapon was a Harmon light laser. He scored a hit with it on the enemy's massive right forearm as the Atlas completed its turn, but the damage amounted to a scratch which the heavier 'Mech didn't even notice. Before the Atlas had completed its turn, both my Panther and Finnegan's UrbanMech had ducked back into our half shelters. We were lucky in one respect: the Atlas mounts a pair of rear-facing medium lasers but it didn't fire them, not then. All I could think was that its pilot planned to take us apart by hand. But it would have to catch us first. Laser fire speared into my building, showering my Panther with ruined chunks of building but doing no serious harm. Through the smoke and cascading plaster dust, I could make out a pair of lithe shapes appearing in the street behind the towering Atlas. Paula and Jurgens had repeated our maneuver, stepping into the street just behind the Atlas, where they could pour concentrated fire atclose range into the rear of the massive target. Both of Paula's SRMs hit, flailing armor from the Atlas' right leg. Those shots were wasted, I was sure; the Atlas carries damn near as much armor on one leg as it does on its front torso. Her medium laser stabbed at her target's left torso, though, adding to the damage caused by my PPC burst. Jurgens waded in with laser fire and with both of his arm-mounted machine guns blazing. I could hear the spangs and shrieks of high-velocity bullets sparking off the Atlas' armor. The Atlas fired its rear-mounted lasers, dividing its fire between Paula and Jurgens. Paula's Wasp took damage to its left leg, I was certain, but if anything hit Jurgen's Stinger, I couldn't see it. Both light 'Mechs ducked back into the mouths of their alleys. The Atlas paused as if considering, then made a ponderous, slow-motion turn and started back towards our comrades. I smashed through into the street again. White light flared across my Panther's center torso. The Atlas must have been expecting such a move, because both of his rear lasers caught me full in my 'Mech's chest. But my PPC had discharged a second bolt into the Atlas' back before my vision cleared, and four more SRMs streaked across the narrow gap. A hit! And another! The damage added to the Atlas' back by the Stinger and Wasp had been grievous indeed. I could see bundles of wiring and charred support struts through smoking craters in the Atlas' back. As I watched, Finnegan's UrbanMech blasted away at our target with his autocannon, multiple explosions flashing acrossthe enemy 'Mech's left side and leg, chopping at already shattered armor. We ducked back into our holes as the Atlas turned once more. I ran a quick check on my 'Mech's systems. That twin hit had savaged the armor in my center and right torso. A few more like that, and this uneven David-and-Goliath contest would end brutally. The Atlas pilot must have known that he'd damaged me. His machine closed on my building. Autocannon fire smashed around me, shredding steel, vaporing ferrocrete slabs, banging and wanging at my Panther's armor in an orgy of destruction. A wall collapsed, smashing me to the side and back. Worse, my cover was partly stripped away now, spilling into the street in a cloud of dust and smoke. The Atlas loomed huge behind that wispy veil. The Stinger and the Wasp stepped from cover again. More missiles struck the Atlas in the back and sides, and the Stinger's paired machine guns chattered away in unison, chewing into the huge machine's internal structure revealed through the rents in its armor. The Atlas took a step forward, ignoring the twin nuisances to its rear save for another twinned burst from its rear-mounted lasers. The autocannon mounted in its side swung its gaping maw towards me. I sent my Panther scrambling back into the ruin of the building, welcoming the avalanche of wreckage which came thundering in as more of the structure collapsed. The At/as'autocannon fire sought me out, probing through darkness and ruin, as SRM and laser fire stabbed and probed. I emerged on the street south of and parallel to Droman Avenue, my 'Mech dented and battered but carrying no serious additional damage. The sharp barks and cracks of explosions from the far side of the building told me that the street battle there was continuing. I turned, braced myself, then fired my Panther's ju m pjets. Bursts of fusion-heated flame sent me soaring over my former shelter in a soaring bound. I came down squarely behind the Atlas just as it bore down on Jurgen's crippled Stinger. His Stinger's left arm was lying on the street, shredded wiring and actuator circuitry hanging out the severed end like fire-blackened spaghetti. Paula's Wasp stood close alongside, her laser washing harmless shafts of light across the 100-ton monster's impenetrable chest armor. The UrbanMech was at the Atlas' rear, its autocannon smashing through internal structure in a fine spray of exploding shells and half-molten fragments. I took the shock of landing by flexing low on my 'Mech's knees, and opened fire with my PPC as I recovered from the drop. Lightning flashed and sparked in the damaged Atlas' exposed wiring and circuitry. A bolt of electricity played between the hole in the Atlas' back and the street, jumping and flickering as megawatts of charge overload sparked through the air to ground in thunder and ozone across the pavement. Another spread of SRMs rocketed into the Atlas' leg and right torso. That hurt the bastard! The Atlas staggered as though gravely wounded, then lurched heavily into the facade of a building on the south side of the street. Its autocannon continued to fire as it fell, the trail of 120 mm shell explosions smashing across the Stinger's torso, then arrowing off down the street in a crashing drumroll of raw sound. For a long moment, it looked like the Atlas would go all the way down, but its pilot recovered, and the heavy machine turned to face me once more. "Lance ... jump!" I cried into the command circuit, and all four 'Mechs triggered their jumpjets, bounding back out of the sweep of the damaged Atlas' wrath. Jurgens' landing on the south side of the row of buildings was heavy and clumsy. "Jurgens! I ordered. Withdraw!" "I'm okay, Lieutenant!" Jurgens replied. "I can handle it!" I didn't have time to answer him. At that moment, the wall of buildings behind us dissolved in crashing, tumbling debris. An Atlas is too heavy to mount jumpjets. This Atlas had solved the problem of the barrier of buildings not by going over them, but by coming through! Laser fire flashed from the heavier 'Mech, and missiles scribed hot, white contrails from the Atlas' left torso. The Marik pilot was splitting his fire again. Three missiles struck me in my Panther's legs. The others exploded harmlessly somewhere behind me. A laser smashed into my machine's center torso, adding to the damage already there. My HUD was flashing red, shrieking warning of damage to my internals, of the loss of two heat sinks, of imminent power shutdown. That was all I needed now, for my Panther to shut itself off and leave me helpless in the face of that monster's raw, crushing strength! I held my fire to keep from adding to my 'Mech's heat problems, and fought a short, nightmare battle overriding the Panther's cutoff circuits. Jurgens took more damage that staggered his 'Mech, even as he fired hopelessly and uselessly into the Atlas' front torso. Two BattleMech forms landed close behind the Atlas on hissing jumpjets. The stubby little UrbanMech opened fire with its autocannon, but the range was so close that the rounds went flashing past the Atlas' shoulder and off down the street behind us. Its laser scored damage, though, and I saw chunks of machinery spilling onto the pavement. Paula's Wasp let fly with her SRMs and laser from nearly point blank range. The Atlas seemed to sag, then stagger to the left. Smoke was billowing from the ravaged, armorless sections of its back and left torso. I fired my jumpjets and soared to one side, risking another heat shutdown in order to get clear of the Atlas' front arc of fire. As I set down eighty meters away, I saw that the Atlas pilot had regained control of his machine and lashed out at the closest of his tormentors-Finnegan's UrbanMech. The stubby little 30-ton 'Mech had one terrible disadvantage. It was slow, slower even than the Atlas which was bearing down on it. Perhaps he tried to fire his jumpjets to escape, and failed. All I know is that the Atlas loomed above his little machine, towering, unstoppable, its massive fists descending like failing mountains... For the first time in this wild fight, I was far enough away that I had a clear track and lock with my PPC. Coldly and deliberately, I drew a bead with my right forearm weapon on the Atlas' already damaged back. Battle damage must have opened some of the seams in my sealed cockpit, for the discharge of the weapon brought the sharp tang of ozone to my nostrils. A volcano gout of flame and smoke boiled from the stricken giant. Its torso seemed to bend back around the wound. It took a step forward, paused, then toppled forward like the fall of some monstrous tree. A rising pall of smoke and dust blocked my view... The battle--that part of it, at least--was over. Four light 'Mechs had taken on an Atlas, and won. Our sensors warned us of approaching Marik BattleMechs, more heavies summoned, no doubt, by the doomed Atlas in the last moments before we'd managed to cut it down. Our cost was high: all of our 'Mechs carried heavy battle damage--my Panther's torso armor had been breached in four places, and I noticed that Paula's Wasp was dragging its right leg. Fred Jurgens escaped with his life, though his Stinger was badly hurt, its gyros damaged, its left arm gone. And we'd lost Finnegan. The Atlas had smashed the little UrbanMech's head and upper torso with a savage, brutal force which had driven Finnegan's machine into the pavement. I don't know if he was still alive when my killing shot struck the Atlas and toppled it forward onto its victim. God ... I don't ever want to know. If he was still alive, he must have been still struggling to get free of his cockpit when 100 tons of carballoy steel and suddenly lifeless machinery had thundered down on his trapped UrbanMech. And I was his killer. We left him there in the wreckage. There was no time to recover his body ... and neither Fred nor I wanted Paula to see what was left. You all know how the rest of it goes. The Vandals were forced back out of the city eventually, but not before we'd accounted for fourteen enemy 'Mechs, including, of course, an Atlas piloted by none other than Colonel Marcus Galliani. The Colonel's death left his command in some disarray, adding to suspicions that Galliani had been improvising his mysterious plans for Penobscot as he went along. There was a savage, drawn-out campaign, an endless round of hit-and-run raids, which burned through the forests along the flanks of the White Mountains throughout the rest of that fall. The Marik forces kept trying to trap and pin us, buttheywere neverableto catch us. Forour parts, we were running low on ammunition and could strike only when we were certain of winning an overwhelming, if temporary, advantage. Those times were not frequent. By late November, word came that a Steiner relief force had jumped in-system. The Marik forces fell over themselves in indecent haste to board their DropShips and depart Penobscot for elsewhere. The invasion collapsed as quickly as it had begun, and we found ourselves the proud possessors of a remarkable and totally unexpected victory. Victory. I only needed to remember the expression on Paula's face that afternoon, after we climbed out of our 'Mechs back at our camp back in the deep woods, for any taste of victory to be transformed to ashes in my mouth. Victory ... but a victory bought at such cost that I resigned my commission soon after the Marik DropShips shrieked their way into Penobscot's atmosphere and beyond, into space. I would continue to fight, but not as a lance commander, and never again with Varrick's Vandals. There was no way I could continue serving with my old unit, not after that encounter with Galliani's Atlas. Because the look on Paula Mason's face which had so seared my soul had been aimed at me. "Murderer," she said. The bond which had tied our lance together, which had made it possible for us to maneuver in such a perfect dance of death against the Marik Atlas, had been shattered forever. 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