“You’re not bringing that with us, are you?” Asked Pvt. Harris, horrified by the idea.
“Hell yes,” said Jesse, “it’s good Intel. Let’s go!” He ordered, jumping to his feet and running after the convoy, which was already leaving.
“Come on!” Shouted Lt. Sawyer, waving to them from the back of the last Humvee.
The four Marines ran behind the vehicle and one-by-one jumped inside. Sgt. Morgan was the last man on-board, after turning and firing one last round into the head of the nearest Super Soldier. He waited and watched the man go down, before climbing aboard.
World War III – Day Twenty Five
Clearview, Nevada
After landing the Firefly at Sampson’s Ranch, Kye and Sampson climbed down from the fighter and headed into the barn. They found Rollin Hicks lying on his back underneath the Tiger Tank, with his legs exposed.
“How’s it coming?” Asked Sampson, excited by the prospect of seeing all of his prized possessions running like new.
Rollin slid out from under the tank and wiped his hands on a dirty rag. Wearing overalls and a baseball cap, the mechanic was covered in grease. “I’ve got the M-4 Sherman up and running, along with most of the other vehicles,” he said, nodding to a much smaller tank, parked in the back of the barn. “But I’m still having issues with this one,” he added, leaning against the German tank and wiping sweat from his brow.
“The Firefly needs to be rearmed and refueled as quickly as possible,” said Kye, as Sampson gathered more Molotov Cocktails from one of the stalls.
“If the rest of these babies are in working order, why aren’t they in Clearview?” Asked the old man, returning with a crate of cocktails.
“I radioed Ian and told him,” said Rollin. “He’s sending some men to get them, but they haven’t arrived yet.”
“They’d better get here soon,” spat Sampson, “or it’ll be for nothing.”
“They should be here any minute,” replied Rollin, as he wheeled a portable gas tank out of the barn and began pumping fuel into the Firefly. “Where’s the enemy?”
“The last we saw they were fighting with Sawyer’s Marines at the base of Kingsbury Grade,” answered Kye, loading the fighter’s wings with more ammo. “God knows where they’ll be by the time we get back.”
“If that Tiger is gonna join the fight, you’d better hurry up and finish the repairs,” added Sampson.
With the Firefly refueled and rearmed, Kye and Sampson climbed into the fighter and strapped themselves in. “Thanks for your help,” said Kye, before firing up the engine.
Rollin nodded and handed Sampson the crate full of Molotov Cocktails. “Be careful!”
“You too,” replied Sampson. “And get that tank running!” He shouted, as the Firefly pulled away and taxied onto the makeshift runway.
When they were in the air, Sampson glanced out the window and saw a small column of vehicles headed to his ranch. “Those must be the fellas from Clearview coming to get the armored vehicles,” he said, pointing to the convoy below.
“Good, we’re gonna need them,” said Kye, as he headed southwest to Kingsbury Grade. “Look!”
Sampson peered out the canopy and saw Lt. Sawyer’s platoon, racing to Clearview in full retreat. Chasing after them was the entire enemy convoy. “We’re too late!”
“The hell we are!” Kye put the nose of the aircraft into a dive. “Get ready with those cocktails!” He squeezed the trigger on his stick and unloaded a barrage of bullets on the enemy below.
Flying directly over the convoy, Sampson leaned out the window and dropped one Molotov Cocktail after another. The lead vehicle burst into flame, bringing the entire column to a halt.
Taking advantage of the sitting targets, Kye made one pass after another and caused as much damage as possible, while providing the Marines with time to escape.
*******
Shiloh rode down Main Street on a neck breaking run, pulling the Appaloosa to a stop in front of the clinic. “This is where most of the wounded will be brought,” he said, lowering Scarlett to the ground.
“Where will you be?” She asked, concerned for his safety.
“I’ll be around,” he replied, handing her a radio. “You’ll be able to get ahold of me on this. When the shooting starts, keep your girls inside and don’t come out until you hear from me.”
“And if we lose the battle?” She asked, worry reflected in her eyes.
“There’s no telling what’ll be in store for prisoners, especially female captives,” admitted Shiloh. “It’s up to you, but ya might consider saving a bullet for yourself, just in case. Here,” he said, handing her a box of cartridges and his childhood pistol. The same gun he’d used to kill the giant, Marcus Parish.
“Do you think it’ll come to that?”
“God I hope not,” he said, glancing up at the heavens, “but it’d be wise to prepare for the worst. Here,” he added, handing her the keys to his Chevy, “my truck is parked around the corner. If it looks like we’re gonna lose, save as many as you can. I’ll try to get back here if possible, but don’t wait for me.”
“Be careful Shiloh!” Scarlett called out, as he turned and rode away.
Arriving at the doctor’s house a moment later, Shiloh dismounted and tied the reins around a white picket fence. He ran inside and found Mason sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the monitor in front of him.
“Your six is clear Rabbit,” he announced, into the radio gripped in his hand. “Firefly, be advised soldiers are deploying into the pastures surrounding the convoy, over.”
“Copy Briar Patch, I see them, over.”
Shiloh looked at the screen and could see the Marines speeding toward Clearview. A few miles behind, the enemy convoy was stopped dead in their tracks, with the Firefly circling above. “So it’s begun,” he mumbled, watching the fighter soar above the convoy, pelting them with bullets and dropping Molotov Cocktails.
Mason glanced at Shiloh and said. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. Is everyone ready?”
Before he could respond the door swung open and Cleo entered, with Ian at her side.
“How long have we got?” Asked Ian, gazing at the monitor and the battle being waged a few miles away.
“Not long,” replied Mason, “thirty minutes at the most. It depends on how long the Firefly can keep them pinned down. Is everything ready?”
“Almost,” replied Ian. “We’re still digging a few pitfalls on the west side of town and coating the field with motor oil and gasoline.”
“Is everyone in position?” Asked Shiloh.
“I’ll see to it,” said Ian, spinning on his heels and hurrying from the house. “Keep me posted on their twenty!” He added, before stepping outside into the morning sun.
“I’ll help,” offered Shiloh, turning and following him outside.
“Move that roadblock!” Ordered Ian, when he saw the Marine Convoy turn onto Main Street and head straight for them.
The men guarding the town’s western entrance, immediately did as told and moved the large columbine tractor blocking the road. The armored vehicles drove through the opening without slowing their speed and pulled to a stop in front of the jailhouse.
Lt. Sawyer jumped from the lead Humvee, his boots hitting the ground before the vehicle had come to a stop. “They’re right behind us!” He shouted, when he saw Shiloh and Ian running toward him.
“I know,” said Ian. “We need to get these vehicles off the street. They’ll be sitting ducks and we may need them.”
“Agreed!” Lt. Sawyer turned and shouted, “Sgt. Powell!”
“Yes sir!” The Sergeant came running from the rear of the column, as Marines emerged from armored vehicles and filed into the jailhouse in search of ammo.
“I want these vehicles off the street and out of sight,” ordered the Lieutenant. “Position them on the eastside of town.”
“Yes sir!” The Sergeant selected a handful of Marines, before climbing into the lead Humvee.
“I’ve got most the volunteers positioned on the frontline, west of town,” said Ian, holding a hand-drawn map, for the Lieutenant to see. “Can you and your men hold our flank, here?” He asked, pointing to a spot on the eastside of town.
“You’re damn straight we can. Sergeant Morgan!” Shouted Lt. Sawyer.
“Yes sir!” Said Jesse, emerging from the jailhouse, with fresh clips of ammo in his hand.
“Once the men are rearmed, deploy them to ditches on the eastside of town,” ordered the Lieutenant, indicating a spot on the map.
“Yes sir!” Sgt. Morgan spun on his heels and started shouting orders.
*******
“Briar Patch, Briar Patch, this is Firefly, we’re running low on fuel and ammo, over.”
“Roger that Firefly. What’s your turnaround ETA, over?”
“Approximately thirty minutes.” Kye put the fighter into a barrel role to avoid enemy fire, before veering north. “Also, be advised the enemy has split into two separate convoys. One headed south toward Minden and Gardnerville and the larger force headed north toward you. They’ll be on your doorstep before our return, over.”
“Copy that, I’ll pass the word,” said Mason. “We’ll hold as long as we can, but we’re gonna need air support, over.”
“Roger Briar Patch. We’ll refuel and rearm as quickly as possible, over and out.”
“Attention all stations this net, this is Briar Patch relaying message from Firefly. Enemy convoy has split into two separate forces, one headed south and one headed north. Expect enemy contact any moment. Everyone to their positions! I repeat, enemy contact is imminent, everyone to their positions, over and out!”
Looking at Clearview from a bird’s-eye view, Mason watched as thousands of people ran in different directions, hurrying to their designated positions. Some headed for the clinic and some for the forest, while others scurried up ladders to the rooftops of taller buildings. Most of the men piled into ditches surrounding the small town. Hunkering behind sandbags, they watched and waited for the enemy to arrive. They didn’t have to wait long.
From his lookout position in the church steeple, Billy began ringing the warning bell. “They’re here!” He shouted, pointing southwest.
Watching the convoy on his laptop, Mason saw one of the tanks pull out of formation and come to a stop. Its turret began to rotate until it was pointed directly at the church steeple, where Billy stood ringing the bell.
“Lookout, this is Briar Patch, you’ve got an enemy tank sighting in on your location. You need to get out of there, over!”
The resonating sound from the bell made it impossible for Billy to hear Mason’s warning and unaware of the danger, he continued ringing the bell.
“Damn it! He can’t hear me,” said Mason, glancing up at Cleo.
“I’ll get him,” she said, turning and sprinting from the house.
Mason continued calling Billy on the radio, but it was no use. He watched helplessly, as the tank’s cannon barrel rose slightly and flame belched from its muzzle, sending a shell straight for the church steeple.
Billy saw Cleo running toward him, waving and shouting, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He stopped ringing the bell for a moment and cupped his hand to his ear. “What?” He shouted back.
The radio clipped to his belt suddenly came alive and he heard Mason yelling, “…tank! Get out of there!”
Billy glanced to his right and saw the tank, a split second before it fired. Without stopping to think, he dove headfirst through the small opening on the steeple floor and fell to the church below. He felt heat from an explosion as the shell exploded into the steeple, sending splintered wood in every direction.
He landed on the floor with a thud and heard a loud snap, as broken pieces of wood and chards of glass, rained down on top of him. When the ringing in his ears finally subsided, he realized someone was screaming. After a moment, Billy realized he was the one screaming. Although he’d been lucky enough to survive the explosion and avoid becoming impaled by falling debris, the fall had taken its toll. His leg was broken and a jagged piece of bone, protruded from the skin.
Realizing he was all alone, Billy stopped screaming. He grabbed his thigh above the break and squeezed, trying to stop the bleeding. Using a nearby pew for support, he tried to stand, but screamed and fell to the floor, as pain shot through his leg and into his foot.
“I’m here Billy!” Yelled Cleo, entering the church and climbing over piles of rubble to reach him.
“I think my leg is broken,” he cried out. “I can’t stand.”
“You think it’s broken?” Asked Cleo, looking down at the exposed bone and grimacing. “I can’t believe you tried to stand on that! Wait here and don’t move,” she instructed.
Cleo turned and rummaged through the wreckage, before finding a door that had blown off its hinges. “We’ll use this for a stretcher,” she said, lying the door on the floor beside Billy. “I’ll support your leg, while you slide on top, okay?”
“Okay,” said Billy, bracing himself for pain.
“On three mate. One, two, three!”
With Cleo’s help, Billy slid onto the door, trying desperately not to show pain in front of her.
“Perfect!” Using some rope, Cleo strapped Billy to the door, before fastening another end to the doorknob. “Ready?” She asked.
“Yeah,” he said, gripping the door with both hands.
Cleo dragged Billy out of the church and down Main Street toward the clinic. When she arrived, she kicked open the door. “I need some help out here!” She yelled.
Jessie and Kati hurried from the clinic and helped Cleo drag Billy inside. With help from Dr. July, they lifted him onto the operating table and watched, as the doctor ripped open his pants.
“Looks like you’re our first wounded,” he said, examining the splintered bone.