We were all up early the next morning, ready for the off, but the mission was postponed due to bad weather. A storm had rolled over, battering the camp from three am, and looked in for the day. In fact, it was relentless, for the next two days we couldn’t get out of the camp for the storm, that covered the whole of the north west. Communications went down across our reconnaissance teams, and stayed down for days. But it was just as bad for Torriero, who couldn’t make any moves. A couple of the buildings used as classrooms flooded, needing work to clean them up. Sandbags were put down around any areas susceptible to flooding, which were already known due to the previous storms.
When communications returned on the twenty ninth, the reconnaissance teams confirmed there had been two small gun fights between Torriero’s men and the army. Both battles had ended with no casualties for the army, two dead for Torriero and five arrested. For those two days, there was very little to do, except continue training to complete my recovery, and sit around anxious to get going. Endless rounds of ‘Shit Head’ were played, with us still unable to halt Keane’s winning habit. On the third day, we got the opportunity to help furnish a cinema room, that was being set up on the ground floor of the hotel. The supply team had sourced the largest television they could find, with a whopping one hundred and ten inch screen, from a retailer in Blackpool. Electrical shops had managed to avoid most of the looting, with no electricity, and food and water the only thing people really needed. Fortunately at the camp, we can get most things running with a petrol generator, after draining all the local gas stations in the aftermath of the nuclear attack, and storing it all on site. The generator was positioned out in the back yard, by the industrial bins. The camp builders had gone to a lot of trouble, even drilling a hole through the back door for the cables, so the door can remain shut, reducing the generator sound to a low buzz. The room was filled with around a hundred chairs from storage, that had once sat in the assembly hall at the local community school. The plan for the cinema room, was to show children’s films during the day, and films for adults at night. With a large selection of dvds collected, a weekly selection could be drawn up, and distributed so people can plan what they want to watch. That night those who helped build the cinema room were given the first viewing of a film, ‘The Inquiry’ a gritty British crime story, set in Liverpool. It had been months since any of us had sat down and watched any entertainment, a rare luxury that seems a lifetime ago. The story was great, and took our mind off the situation, if only for a few hours.
The weather on the morning of the thirtieth was deemed good enough for the launch of the mission, codename Operation Cannon Fodder. General Morris briefly spoke to us before we set off, to tell us this mission was only the start of war, and dealing with the creatures was just as important as Torriero. The convoy of Vikings left Camp Blue at eight am, with Welsh handing out detailed drawings of Higherford Mill, and the surrounding area.
30/12/27 - Time 22:50
We only stayed in convoy for around twenty minutes, just before we reached the M6, we all split up to follow our respective routes. A couple followed us onto the M65, but then followed the signs for the south, as we continued towards Burnley. The weather was still rainy, short storms would drift over the top of us. There were a couple of longer snow falls, and it was bitterly cold in the Viking, the heater having to work overtime. It felt like the weather was about to change for the worse, the calm before the storm. On the road, our biggest worry was an IED attack, we tried to stay in the fast lane where possible, assuming they would set any bomb up on the inside lane. The motorway was mostly clear of traffic, only the junctions for Blackburn and Burnley had abandoned vehicles in the lanes going in and coming out of the towns. As we got closer to junction thirteen, traffic cones appeared at the side of the road, and roadwork signs. ‘Fifty miles per hour zone, speed cameras are working’ read one, as we past a stretch of motorway around a mile long, with freshly built concrete barriers along the central reservation. ‘Number thirteen, this is the junction’ said Keane, turning the map around in his hands.
‘You sure?’ Replied Welsh. ‘It doesn’t mention Barrowford, it says Nelson and Kendal.’
‘This is it’ Keane answered, as Murphy moved across the carriage way, and down the slip road towards a roundabout at the bottom. Much of the road had been fenced off, with orange and white plastic barriers. The roundabout had a collection of freshly cut tree stumps in the centre, and a couple of council vehicles parked on the junction. Much like the motorway roadworks, more work that didn’t get finished. We took the second left, following the sign for Barrowford, past a large abandoned college building on our left, to some blacked out traffic lights. There was a small humpback bridge ahead, which we carefully and slowly past, into the centre of the town. Murphy pointed out a man stood outside a property on the left hand side of the road, he ran into his terraced house when he saw us approaching, and closed the door behind him. I looked up at the windows of the houses as we continued, the inhabitants must have been nervous, hiding behind twitching curtains and boarded up windows. After around a hundred yards of terraced houses on both sides of the road, the buildings stopped on the right hand side, as the river came back around, parallel with the road. A three foot high stone wall was keeping the river from breaching the road, the fields on the other side were not so lucky, the water stretching out around fifty yards, to where steps took the land up to a wooded area. I could see a playground, under the waves, the rusting metal frame of a swing and a slide, the only thing breaking the surface of the water. The road bent to the left, passing a white pub on the left, set back off the road. In front of it was a cobbled seated area, but all the wooden tables and chairs had been removed, probably for fire wood. Only the rusting metal bases for the parasol umbrellas remained, positioned sporadically. As we came to a stop next to a looted, but newly built supermarket on our left, another little humpback bridge appeared ahead, leaving the road we were travelling on, at a right angle arching over the river. I hadn’t noticed the two men standing guard on it, until they spotted us, and started to fire their rifles in our general direction. They left their positions and sprinted across the road in front of us, and around the corner as the road bent to the left.
‘Follow them’ shouted Sergeant Welsh. ‘But be careful.’
We wound down the windows, so we could position our rifles out, ready for any threat. The Viking slowly rolled around the corner, as another bridge came into view, this one was on our road as its route climbed over the river. But as we drew closer, there was a loud explosion, and a dust cloud engulfed the bridge, as bits of grit and debris rained down on our vehicle. Sergeant Welsh ordered us to exit the Viking, and clear the area. Keane went into an old factory, situated to our left, to get a better view of the situation. The dust cloud lingered for a few minutes, as we took position, and made sure there was nobody else around. I could hear shouting and movement over the other side of the bridge, but couldn’t identify anything. The bridge had been blown up, destroying two thirds of it, leaving only a three foot concrete arch, with a torrent of water cascading past. We couldn’t continue forward in the Viking, so we left it and moved into cover. A couple of rifle bursts fired over our heads, and we ducked behind the wall, and returned fire. This continued for around twenty minutes, until Keane got his eye in, and hit one of the fighters.
‘He’s down’ shouted Keane. ‘The others are heading into the mill.’
‘Are there anymore outside?’ Sergeant Welsh shouted.
‘Not that I can see.’
‘There were two of them on the bridge.’
‘I saw maybe five around the mill, I’ve wounded one, and the others ran inside. Get everyone across, I’ll cover them. Be careful though, it wasn’t a fatal shot, I can see him moving.’
One by one, we carefully walked along the remains of the bridge, with the rushing river to our right, until all but Keane were across. The mill was a large three storey building, running parallel to the river, with a tall thin c
himney, rising into the darkening sky. I could see movement in a few of the front facing windows, and it wasn’t long before we were shot at. Sergeant Welsh ordered us to lay down a base of fire on them, as he cleared the area directly in front of us. He moved forward towards the prone soldier, and I followed, as Keane arrived at the back of our group. Sergeant Welsh reached the wounded man, and started kicking him in the body, then shot him through the head, as he lay defenceless. He then turned and faced me, startled he had company.
‘He pulled a gun on me’ he said, answering a question I never asked. I didn’t respond, I just waited until the rest of the company arrived, with Sergeant Welsh eyeballing me the entire time. When we’d re-grouped, Sergeant Welsh ordered Keane to take position in the building opposite, as we attacked from two entry points. Welsh took Murphy, and they positioned themselves by the front doors, as Little D, Adrian and myself headed around the other side to enter from the back. I heard the explosion, as they breached the front doors, and then further explosions as they rolled a couple of grenades inside. The large factory doors at the back were missing, with the floor outside red with blood, and the remains of rotting bodies. The smell was atrocious, we had to cover our mouths and noses as we entered the building, with distant gunfire echoing around the old walls. Ahead of us were two small rooms on the left, and two on the right, with double doors at the end, opening up onto the mill floor, taking up the majority of the building. We checked each room individually, taking our time, as gunshot still echoed around us. The first room we entered had been used to house the females, before anything had happened to them. The conditions were awful, human excrement and vomit, covering the floors and walls, the smell was overwhelming. They had been kept like animals, waiting to be slaughtered. The second room was full of belongings, bags, purses, clothes, jackets, all items removed from these poor women before they died. The next room went back out into the cold, where the water wheel was positioned, using the strength of the river to give power to the factory. The fourth room was much the same as the first, where any females had been locked up to die, the feeling I got searching these rooms was one of real disgust, the lack of humanity shown by these humans was hard to understand. We could still hear the gun battle, and opened the doors into the main body of the mill, where we found Sergeant Welsh and Murphy pinned down just inside the building. There was a large stone arched furnace, under the mill chimney, in the centre of the mill. Here is where the females had died, bits of bodies were still covering the floor, entrenched into the fabric of the building, becoming part of the mill. The deep blood red had soaked into the concrete, the colour creeping up walls like fungus. There were two sets of stone steps up to the second floor, where Torriero’s men were putting up a strong resistances. Their position was above us, and only reachable by the steps, with Welsh and Murphy under fire by the first set. They were pinned down, as Torriero’s men were concentrating their fire on the gap at the top, that was too open for them to attack. Little D told us to follow him, as we sneaked unnoticed to the other steps to our right, and climbed them, stopping at the top where he took a moment to survey the area. There was around twenty yards between Torriero’s men and our position, and they had their backs to us, as they concentrated on our comrades. There was ten yards of stone walkway, with the room opening out, housing large industrial machines, and piles of coal and wood. It was all open, looking down on the floor below. We crept along the walkway, under the long open windows, to the edge of the room.
‘You take the guy on the left’ whispered Little D, looking at me. ‘Adrian, you take the guy on the right. I’ll take the two in the middle, nice and quiet, on my signal.’
The gunfire was intense, and they had no idea we were there, until we were on them. Adrian and I shot at our targets, as Little D killed his first man with a bullet to the head. The second guy turned around and dropped his weapon, putting his hands in the air.
‘Please don’t kill me, I was only doing what they told me to do.’
‘Get down on your face’ replied Little D. ‘And put your hands behind your back.’
The man lay down, as I kicked the weapons away and Sergeant Welsh and Murphy arrived at the top of the stairs. Sergeant Welsh didn’t offer us any thanks for handling the situation, instead choosing to swear at the unarmed man, and hover over him in a menacing manner. Two men were dead, and the guy Adrian had shot was wounded, and screaming for help.
‘Radio in for Keane’ said Little D. ‘We need a medic.’
‘We don’t need a medic’ snapped Sergeant Welsh. ‘We’re not wasting medical supplies on this piece of shit.’
‘We have been given orders to bring any enemy still alive back to the camp, under arrest’ said Little D, as Welsh pondered the situation.
‘In that case, if any of your comrades end up needing medical intervention, and we don’t have the means, it will be on you. Murphy, take the prisoner back to the Viking, and get Keane.’
Murphy left, as Adrian tried to calm the injured man down, who had been shot in the stomach, arm and shoulder.
‘Davis, do a sweep of the premises, make sure nothing has been missed’ shouted Sergeant Welsh, trying to impose his authority on the situation, and put Little D back in his place. Keane arrived and treated the injured man who had passed out with the pain, it was a serious injury and we’ll have to get him back to camp quickly for him to survive, he needed operating on. When Little D arrived back after sweeping the premises, Sergeant Welsh ordered us back to the Viking, where we would organise the destruction of the building.
‘You can carry the injured man Davis’ said Sergeant Welsh, still not happy about his authority being questioned. When we got back to the vehicle, Adrian had handcuffed Torriero’s man to the headrest on the back seat, and was looking through the medical supplies in the boot.
‘Have you searched the man for weapons Harper?’ Asked Sergeant Welsh.
‘No sir, I-’
‘You fucking incompetent clown, search him now.’
‘I don’t have any weapons’ stammered the man, trying to move from his position.
‘You shut the fuck up’ Sergeant Welsh snapped back, pushing Adrian out of the way to look through the equipment in the boot.
‘How do I end up with the fucking no hopers’ said Welsh, under his breath but loud enough to be heard. Adrian looked over, and with a rise of the eyebrows, we understood each other. The injured man died before we had chance to treat him, his wound was too severe for our limited supplies. Welsh threw his body into the river, much to our disgust. When he arrived back, he started rummaging through our equipment, until he pulled out a bag containing the C4.
‘We’re going to bring a building down’ he said. ‘But first I want to burn it.’
He pulled the flamethrower out of the back of the Viking, and lay it on the grass. I looked around for Rhino for a few seconds, and Murphy, sensing my mistake, offered to take the flamethrower on his back. I helped him fasten it, as Sergeant Welsh called us all around the Viking bonnet. He drew a crude representation of the mill on a piece of paper, and marked six positions he wanted C4 placing, in order to bring the building down. He handed Adrian, Keane and myself two C4 packs each, and threw Little D a camera.
‘I need a before and after picture’ he laughed, before telling us to move out. It took around forty minutes for Murphy to complete his sweep of the mill, burning all traces of death the building was hiding. The smell of burning flesh and bones was noticeable from a hundred metres away, and the flames quickly took hold of the old building. While he was doing that, Keane, Adrian and I placed our C4 packs in the positions Sergeant Welsh had marked on his drawing, along the outside of the building, and the supporting walls. When we had finished, we walked back to the Viking as one, where we found Sergeant Welsh talking to the prisoner, who looked up as we arrived, I could see the relief in his blooded eyes.
‘What’s going on?’ Said Little D, suspecting we’d walked in on something we weren’t supposed to see.
&
nbsp; ‘I’ve been interrogating the prisoner’ Sergeant Welsh replied, a little miffed he was facing more questions.
‘Is that what you call it?’ Little D snapped back.
‘Have you got something you’d like to say Private Davis?’
Little D never responded to the question, they stood facing each other, until Keane interrupted the stand off to give Sergeant Welsh the remote detonator.
‘Right men’ said Sergeant Welsh, ‘Let’s blow a building up.’
We walked back over the bridge, one at a time, and stopped around a hundred yards from the mill, with a full view of the destruction. Sergeant Welsh detonated the C4, there was a loud crack and the building folded in on itself, letting gravity take care of business. Within seconds it was flat, the chimney came down across the river, causing water to spray ten foot in the air. We turned away as the dust cloud bellowed towards us, like a sandstorm. It crackled against our uniforms, as it whistled past us, leaving a thin layer of film on everything it touched.
‘Take a picture’ said Sergeant Welsh, as he walked past Little D, towards the Viking. ‘And we can be on our way.’
We left soon after, Little D and myself sat in the back with some of the equipment. We both had things on our mind, and wanted to speak about them, so we kept our voices low.
‘The guy who Welsh shot on the floor never pulled a gun on him’ I said. ‘I was right behind them. He was still crawling towards the mill, Welsh just kicked him unconscious and then executed him.’
Aftermath: The Complete Collection (Books 1 & 2) Page 46