Battle Earth IV (6 page)

“You told me the war wasn’t over.”

She smiled. “True, it’s merely on hold.”

They arrived at a temporary air base on the eastern edge of France that had been established since the war had ended. It was a hive of activity as vehicles came and went between the multitude of fighters and transport craft lined across the strip. They pulled up beside a concrete structure that had only the letters ‘HQ’ upon it. Outside were military police guards who wore impeccable white webbing over their perfectly pressed uniforms.

Taylor and Chandra leapt off the vehicle under the gaze of the guards who looked at their filthy uniforms with disgust. Taylor glared back at them and could not resist a taunt.

“Those rifles look as clean as a whistle, ever fired them?”

The two men stared back, and he could see they were desperate to confront him. One of them who wore sergeant’s stripes moved a single pace forward and saw the Major’s rank crowns hidden beneath the black soot that still coated him. The Sergeant hesitated and stepped back into position. Taylor grinned in satisfaction.

“Enough taunting them, we’ve got real work to do.”

She knew her comments would only infuriate the MPs further, which served to entertain Taylor.

“Please, follow me!” shouted the driver as he rushed into the HQ building.

They followed him through and into a room with a large planning table and a dozen high-ranking officers sat about it. They all wore their service dress and were belittled by the two filthy officers in their bulky armour and exoskeletons.

“How dare you step into our presence in such a state!” declared Dupont.

Taylor shot a wicked glance back at the General and stood defiantly before him.

“You’ll excuse our attire, for we were informed we were to get to you with all haste. Nor do we currently possess any uniforms besides these. As combat troops, we only carry what we need,” explained Chandra.

Dupont was infuriated by what she was insinuating but knew it was worded in such a way that he could do nothing in return. He spun around to address Schulz who was sat calmly at the head of the table.

“Will you suffer these filthy soldiers here?” he asked.

Schulz launched his chair backwards as he shot up to his feet.

“Will you shut up!” he yelled.

Taylor smiled as he saw the shock in Dupont’s face, and the man’s shoulders slump as he was humiliated before them all.

That’s right, you son of a bitch,
thought Taylor.

Dupont went silent and lay back with a smirk. Schulz sighed as he sat back down and pulled his chair into the table. He took look around the room and took one last deep breath before he addressed them all.

“Tensions have been high. There have been some hot headed actions and enough scorn and bitterness to last a lifetime. This is war, so let us not forget that all of us here are on the same side.”

He paused for a moment for his words to settle in. Taylor, for the first time since he had met the General, began to understand his position. Schulz wasn’t an inherently bad person, far from it. He was a plotter and a thinker, and a man who saw the big picture; and had no time to fret over one soldier’s single death. Taylor sometimes wished he could have commanded some of the battles in the war but also saw the toll it took.

“Soldiers and civilians alike are slaving every day to try and clear roads, and get this country back on its feet. Major Chandra, you are probably not aware that we have had substantial resources put into Paris. The capital is an important symbol for this world, and it must be operational as quickly as possible.”

“Is there much left of it?” muttered Taylor.

Schulz heard his quiet words and stopped to address the question.

“Enough that it is, and always will be, Paris. The two of you are more than aware of what the enemy were doing with the former capital.”

“Actually, Sir, we may have seen a lot, but we understood little of it.”

“Exactly so. The city has been deemed safe, and what is left of the government is already being re-instated there. The leaders of many of the key armies of the world are assembling there to witness first hand the sights which you yourselves uncovered.”

“To what end, Sir?” she asked.

Taylor could see that Dupont was desperate to leap to his feet and shoot them down in flames, but he held his tongue in the knowledge he would only receive a second ridiculing.

“What your reports described was deeply disturbing. Experts from around the world have been let into the site in the last few weeks, and we all hope they have some answers. I would like both of you to join us on this journey. Perhaps you can shed more light on whatever was going on there.”

Taylor turned to Chandra, and she could see in his eyes that he didn’t want to go. She also knew that Schulz was making a determined effort to repair the relationship with her Company, and specifically with Mitch.

“What about our unit, Sir?”

“Captain Jones will be more than capable of managing. I am sending an infantry company with a detachment of engineers to assist them. They’ll be arriving this evening.”

“Thank you, Sir. We’d be more than happy to accompany you to Paris, but I cannot promise that we’ll be any assistance in understanding what is there.”

* * *

Jones paced cautiously along a roadside, looking in every window and alcove as he passed. Abandoned cars still littered the roads. Some were burnt out wrecks, while others seemed to have past through the conflict like a time capsule. Brick dust and other grime covered every visible surface, and huge craters were still littering the streets.

“Need to get those bloody engineers here, and get these holes filled in!” Monty shouted.

Jones stopped and turned to watch his unit pass through the rubble and debris of the city. He shook his head in astonishment. It was hard to believe that it could ever return to its former glory. He caught a glimmer of light in the distance as light reflected off a moving object. The Captain quickly lifted his binoculars.

His body went taut at the thought they were not alone. He panned around to find the source of the light, and then finally down to the street ahead could see Yorath and his unit coming out from a side alley up ahead. He let go of the binoculars and let them rest on his chest as he peered around at all the derelict structures around them. He hoped friendly forces were the source of the glimmer, but he doubted they were so lucky.

Just as he felt his shoulders relax, an explosion ripped through the street in the distance, and the ground shook beneath them. Jones instinctively leapt for cover and tumbled across the road. He ran over broken glass before landing back on one knee beside an upturned police cruiser. His heart sunk, as he already knew that yet another comrade and friend would be dead. He prayed for it not to be the case, but it was unavoidable.

Jones took a deep breath and raised himself up high enough to peer over the vehicle down towards Yorath’s unit. There were no screams or sounds of gunfire. The apocalyptical street was once more silent as all of the soldiers in it froze beside their cover. They awaited the onslaught of an enemy barrage or ambush, but it never came.

“Come in Yorath, report,” he whispered.

Static came over his mic and the sound of breathing as the Lieutenant tried to find the words to tell him.

“We’ve, we’ve got two down.”

“What is their status?”

“One wounded, and he’ll make it. The other is gone.”

Jones shook his head in anger.

“We made it through. This is bullshit,” whispered Jones to himself.

He looked up and all around for some signs of the enemy, but he already speculated that it was a planted explosive of some sort.

“Any indication of enemies in the vicinity?” he asked.

“None.”

Jones stood up from behind the car and walked casually towards Yorath’s platoon. Jones’ unit followed after him, though more cautiously. They reached the scene of the explosion and could see Private Nichols had been torn apart by the blast and killed instantly.

At least there’s enough left for a funeral. It’s more than most have got these last months,
thought Jones.

A few metres away, the medic was attending to the other casualty. Jones could see the wounds were only superficial from shrapnel. The man’s body armour showed deep scrapes and scars where the cuirass had saved his life. He was more stunned that hurt.

“Shit, this isn’t how it’s supposed to have gone,” whispered Jones.

He spoke under his breath so that others wouldn’t hear, but he did not have such luck. Yorath got to his feet and stepped up beside the Captain.

“What are we even still doing here? Haven’t we given enough for this country? We should go home, and let their own people sort this mess out. I didn’t see civilians rushing forward to help fight this war, so why should we do all the work?” he asked.

Jones winced at the fact the Lieutenant had made his despondent words loud enough for many around them to hear. Charlie leaned in close and whispered to Yorath.

“I’ll remind you that you are an officer in the British Army, not some loud mouthed thug. Look at them, all of them. Their morale is low enough as it is. Last thing they need is an officer inciting insubordination in their ranks. We’ll leave when we’re ordered to.”

“And when will that be?” snapped Yorath. “When there aren’t enough of us left to be what is deemed effective?”

“Don’t give me this shit. You think doing a little hard labour is tough? Try being a prisoner of those bastards!”

Yorath went quiet. He was shamed into silence by the Captain, who he knew in his heart he should support and respect.

Jones turned and walked over to the wounded man and knelt down beside him.

“You’ll be just fine.”

The man nodded in gratitude, staring at the body of his friend who had not been so lucky.

“We won’t be able to get vehicles out here for a while, and it seems any assistance in the air is too much to ask right now. My platoon will continue to scour the area for enemy combatants and devices. Yorath, you will return to base with the wounded and take some rest.”

The Lieutenant smiled at the sympathy Jones was showing them, but he could not feel any better about their situation. Rest was all very well, but they would only have to return to the same wastelands afterwards. Jones stood up and stepped towards the blast area. He stood for a moment carefully studying it.

“Look at the damage, and remember what it sounded like. That wasn’t an enemy weapon. There must be unexploded ordnance in the area. Nichols must have triggered it somehow.”

“Great, blown up by our own bombs,” replied Monty.

“You remember the battle we fought in this city. Half the time we couldn’t tell where the lines were anymore and fire was coming in all over. This won’t be the last time we get bitten by our own bombs.”

“They need to get teams over here to deal with this shit,” growled Blinker.

“Half the country is this way, so they’re gonna be spread thin. For now we must tread a little lighter. Be alert. Just because this was one of ours, it doesn’t mean the enemy haven’t planted mines and other devices.”

Jones stood and watched with sadness as the body of Nichols was whisked away, and Yorath’s platoon trundled wearily back to the work site that in that moment was their home.

“I can’t believe he made it all the way through this war only to be killed now. I saw him take a pulse to the chest and keep fighting in Ramstein. Poor bastard,” Blinker continued.

Jones lifted his weapon and gave it a quick check before turning to his unit. He could see in their faces they were tired of it all. They didn’t want to continue on their days to meet the same fate as Nichols. He did not blame them. He wanted revenge against the invaders, but it was the one thing they could not get.

“Major Taylor nearly lost his life because these buildings weren’t cleared. What happens when a family comes home to discover one of the creatures among them? They’ll get torn apart. We won this victory, let’s see it through!” yelled Jones.

It was hard to motivate fatigued veteran soldiers to continue in both a menial and dangerous task. He continually questioned their duty and responsibility to the country himself, but he was a stickler for orders.