Atlantis - Return of the Nation

Atlantis - Return of the Nation Page 8

by Steven Cook

  The Joint Chiefs of Staff were also shocked by the images they had seen displayed on a pair of large plasma screens.

  The president was the first to break the silence.

  ‘Any suggestions gentlemen?’ he asked quietly.

  There was a short pause as the men gathered their thoughts.

  ‘It could be a mechanical failure or pilot error.’ said Admiral Kay.

  ‘A mechanical failure wouldn’t have caused it go in like that. There was no deviance from course. It went in like an arrow, and the heat signature of the engines dissipated too quickly.’ pointed out General Ciuffetelli.

  ‘It could be some form of localised Electromagnetic Pulse.’ pondered General Norton. ‘That would kill all the electronics on the Helicopter. Although,’ he paused, ‘you would expect the effect to spread and take the Destroyer out as well. And that doesn’t explain the sudden loss of heat.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ the President stood with his arms braced on the table, looking between the screens and his advisors.

  ‘We have eleven of our sailors and three Royal Navy airmen stuck on a potentially hostile beach. We can’t send Helicopters in obviously and we don’t know what affect the island will have on a boat.’

  ‘The Destroyer isn’t kitted out for amphibious rescue operations; it’s an anti aircraft and missile platform. Their boats have too deep a draught to get over the reef. Our nearest equipped vessels are forty-eight hours away at full speed.’ advised Admiral Kay.

  ‘Mr President.’ General Norton addressed the group. ‘I recommend sending in a Ranger unit with inflatable boats by high altitude parachute drop. They will be able to jump from a region outside the influence of whatever it is that affected the helicopter. Once down they can protect the survivors and inflate the boats and row out to the Destroyer.’

  ‘How long will it take to get them there?’ Jack Henry asked.

  ‘Normally we can get them anywhere in the world within eighteen hours, but I’m sure we can get a small rescue team down within fourteen.’

  ‘Get it started. I want those survivors out before we start making further investigations.’ the President ordered.

  He turned to Jack Henry.

  ‘Let the Royal Navy have a stream of the satellite and let them know what we intend to do. I’m sure they want to know that some of their men have survived.’

  He looked at the display again.

  ‘Inform the United Nations of what has occurred and advise them that we require an exclusion zone of twenty miles to prevent any more accidents.’

  ‘Mr President, we have to decide what to do with the missiles inside the wreck. The longer they stay there the more of a threat they become.’ Anthony Morris’ quiet voice silenced the room.

  ‘Do you have any suggestions Tony?’ Jack Henry cut in.

  ‘I suggest we ask the Brits if they would use their destroyer to shell it. Boise was only carrying conventional weapons. There are no nuclear munitions on board.’

  The President considered this option, thinking of the millions of dollars worth of equipment that could possibly be salvaged.

  ‘Let’s see if we can recover them first. Carry on gentlemen.’

  The Joint Chiefs moved to a bank of telephones and started to get the might of the US Military moving.

  *

  The Island 21st May

  The storm had finally passed, leaving the island in bursts of bright sunshine where and when it broke through the clouds. The rain had soaked into the shingle and its hissing had been replaced by the noise of the surf and noises from the wildlife hidden within the jungle beyond the beach.

  Craig awoke to somebody shaking him gently. He was lying on his back in the shadow of the wrecked helicopter. As his senses came back to him he looked up at the face in front of him.

  ‘Fitz?’ He recognised the seaman from their night out around Gibraltar, although the face was paler than he remembered and a line of dried blood ran down one side of his face. Slowly he sat up, aided by the young American.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Fitz sat back down on the shingles.

  ‘Like I’ve been chewed up and spat out.’ Craig replied. He looked around and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Danny and Carl sitting a short distance away. He also spotted Carrick slumped against a large rock, his face grimaced in pain.

  ‘Is there a med kit on the Helo?’ asked Fitz.

  ‘There should be one near the observer’s seat.’ Craig turned to point out the area. He gagged when he saw the body of the observer still slumped in the shingle, a patch of crimson sand showed where his blood had been sprayed.

  Fitz stood and rested his hand on Craig’s shoulder. He gripped it lightly in sympathy before moving towards the helicopter. He cautiously stepped up into the helicopter, bracing himself on the sloping floor. After a brief search he pulled out the medical kit and threw it out onto the sand. It was soon followed by a couple of blankets and a stretcher that had been strapped to the back of the hold wall.

  Dropping back to the shingle he loaded everything onto the stretcher and, with the help of a slightly woozy Craig, carried it over to Carrick.

  ‘Dave. I need to look at your leg.’ he knelt beside the Chief.

  ‘Fitz, Carl can help, he’s had some medical training.’ Craig waved Carl over.

  Carl and Danny crunched through the shingle and dropped beside Dave.

  Carl took one look and immediately took control.

  ‘Danny, if you’re up to it, see if you can contact the ship. Let them know we’re alive. Craig, get the kit open. I need you to pass me stuff when I ask for it.’ Craig started to open the kit.

  ‘Fitz is it?’ he looked at the kneeling seaman. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  As Fitz started to tell the events leading up to himself and Carrick arriving on the beach Carl took the shears from the med kit and cut Carrick’s trouser leg to the knee. He also cut the laces to his boot.

  ‘Ouch,’ he said impulsively as he saw the state of Carrick’s ankle.

  The ankle was very obviously broken. The bone hadn’t pierced the skin, but was distorting the shape of his lower leg. The joint was heavily swollen and the muscles had contracted, pulling the bones out of alignment.

  ‘Right Dave,’ he looked Carrick in the eye. ‘We need to straighten your leg out. I’m not going to lie; it’s going to hurt like hell.’

  ‘Do it.’ grimaced Carrick.

  Carl directed Fitz and Carl to hold Carrick down, one at his shoulders, the other on his knee. He took hold of the ankle then looked at Carrick.

  ‘Ready?’

  Before he could answer or tense up, Carl pulled the ankle straight in a single clean move. Carrick screamed in pain and passed out.

  Further down the beach Danny turned as the scream cut through the air. He the turned and raised the binoculars he had taken from the helicopter and looked out to sea.

  H.M.S. Daring was holding station three quarters of a mile out to sea. He knew that somebody would be watching the beach.

  He lowered the binoculars and pulled a pair of rags out of his pockets. Facing the sea he placed his arms down so his hands rested on his crotch. After a short pause he started to methodically raise his arms to various angles. Although the radio was dead on the helicopter they could still communicate with the Destroyer via semaphore.

  He sent his message twice, informing the ship of the number of survivors and requesting information as to a rescue. He dropped the flags and raised the binoculars again.

  Adjacent to the ships bridge a light began flashing on and off, signalling in Morse code. Danny sent a message received signal then ran up the beach to the others.

  ‘OK guys.’ he opened. They all looked up.

  ‘There are
nine US survivors on the other beach. There are a team of US Rangers HAHO’ing in to save us. Whatever that is? They should be here in about ten hours.’

  ‘I think that’s High Altitude High Opening,’ said Craig quietly.

  ‘Let’s get Dave on the stretcher and see if we can join up with the others,’ said Carl.

  ‘I had a look at the river between us and them earlier. It could almost be man made as the walls are sheer like a canal. There’s no way we can cross without ropes. The surf was too rough to get around due to the storm.’ said Fitz. ‘However, I have spoken to them and they’re fine.’

  ‘Alright,’ said Carl, ‘let’s get away from the Copter and get some shelter set up. It’s going to be a warm day.’ He finished immobilising Carrick’s ankle in a lightweight splint.

  ‘I’ll have a look at your head as well. That looks nasty.’

  Fitz touched his head, remembering the injury now the events had calmed down. The gash had scabbed over, but a dried streak of blood still covered one side of his face.

  Craig and Carl lifted Carrick onto the stretcher and secured him with straps. Together they lifted the stretcher and moved higher up the beach. Danny and Fitz followed, carrying the medical kit and the blankets.

  *

  North Atlantic 22nd May

  Twenty eight thousand feet over the Atlantic the C130J Hercules transport of the 86th Airlift Wing took a final turn towards the island and started to decelerate. The co-pilot flicked a switch on the console before him, turning on a light in the loading bay.

  The loadmaster stood up and roared over the sound of the engines.

  ‘Prepare to jump. Masks on.’ He waited until the twelve Rangers had adjusted their breathing apparatus and given him thumbs up. He slipped his own mask over his head and tightened the straps.

  Moving to the rear of the loading bay he clipped his safety line to the side and tugged it to make sure it was secure. Looking around he checked the immediate area to see if there were any loose items. He knew there wouldn’t be, but good habits were safe habits.

  Clicking a button at his waist he spoke to the Pilot to inform him of his proposed actions. Receiving a confirmation he opened a panel and pushed one of the recessed buttons.

  The full width section of the plane started to drop away as the ramp opened. The loadmaster kept the button depressed until it was level with the rest of the bay. The roar of the wind made speech impossible. The dawn sunlight was barely over the distant horizon, yet the hold was bathed in a golden glow. The loadmaster motioned to the Rangers.

  They stood as one and started to check each other’s harnesses, tugging straps and webbing. Each was wearing identical equipment of standard camouflage fatigues with a protective Kevlar vest and a harness supporting a number of pouches and weapons. On their backs were strapped parachutes. High on their chests, and connected to their masks, was a small oxygen cylinder to support them on the jump from altitude.

  Each man also had a large sack strapped to the front of his legs. These contained further equipment and the inflatable boats designed to get them and the survivors off the island.

  The majority of the Rangers had M4 Carbines fitted with the M203 grenade launcher strapped to their side. Two had the M249 Squad Automatic Weapons instead to provide additional firepower.

  Although they didn’t expect any trouble, the Rangers were locked and loaded to handle it.

  In two lines of six the men prepared themselves. Shortly the light above the ramp turned off and was replaced by a green one. The Rangers shuffled towards the end of the ramp.

  The Loadmaster counted the Rangers off as they hurled themselves into the air. He barely noticed the wind snatching them and pulling them safely away from the Hercules.

  The Rangers commanding officer was the last to go. He gave a jaunty wave to the Loadmaster before hurling himself into the void.

  After counting the last one off the Loadmaster depressed a button to close the ramp and when it sealed shut and the wind disappeared he activated the radio to inform the pilot.

  The pilot acknowledged the call, turned out the jump light and altered course to put the sun in their eyes and headed back towards the European mainland and home.

  Behind the Hercules the Rangers plummeted through the thin, golden air to earth. After four thousand feet they pulled the ripcords to the parachutes. Their canopies billowed, slowing their rate of descent drastically. As soon as they had gained control they slipped the knots on their additional baggage and it dropped from their thighs on a twenty foot cord before arresting.

  In close formation the Rangers drifted down towards the island. From their height they could see most of the island, and the naval vessel holding station off the south coast.

  They followed the lead of their senior sergeant and aimed for the west beach. The highly specialised parachutes slowing their plummet to the earth also gave them immense manoeuvrability. Each of the men were capable of landing within a ten foot diameter circle from the altitude they had left the Hercules. A whole beach wouldn’t be any problem.

  In an easy spiral they descended, each following the track of the trooper below him.

  *

  The Island 22nd May

  On the beach the two groups on either side of the river had been in periodic communication with each other and the ship during the night and early morning. They now knew that the Rangers would soon be landing and were standing out on the beach looking up at the sky.

  The west beach survivors were first to spot the Rangers as they drifted silently out of the still dark western sky. With the surety of years of practise the Rangers landed lightly on the beach a fraction of a second after their pack, pulling the lines on their parachutes to collapse the canopy to prevent them being dragged across the beach.

  Quickly, ignoring the cheering survivors gathering around them, they released their harnesses and breathing apparatus. Automatically they brought up their weapons to their shoulders and moved into a circle, scanning in all directions.

  ‘Clear.’ In turn each of the Rangers signed off.

  Satisfied the leader of the Rangers, Lieutenant Julian Fisher lowered his carbine and approached the survivors, his M4 held in one hand by his side.

  ‘Lieutenant Julian Fisher, 75th Rangers.’ he announced.

  The XO stood forward.

  ‘You don’t know how nice it is to see you lieutenant. I’m Andy Warnett, XO on the Boise.’

  Lieutenant Fisher saluted.

  ‘Sir, we’re here to get you off and out to the Destroyer. It’s about a mile offshore. What injuries do you have?’

  ‘We’re OK, but the others over the river have injuries.’

  ‘Right, we’ll get to them and see about getting you to safety and a hot meal.’

  ‘About time too,’ said one of the sailors, ‘we’re starving.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Fisher, ‘Sergeant,’ he turned to one of his men. ‘Get these men some rations. They can eat while we get the boats inflated. When the first boat is ready send it to the other beach with two men to see how the others are.’

  ‘You got it LT.’ Senior Sergeant Del Foster gathered a couple of the Rangers and started unpacking the additional equipment sacks.

  The Rangers distributed food to the hungry sailors, who quickly ripped the packaging off and started cramming it into their mouths.

  One of the Rangers approached Lieutenant Fisher and Lieutenant-Commander Andy Warnett.

  ‘Sir,’ he waited for an acknowledgement.

  ‘It’s as suspected, there must be some kind of field affecting the electrics. The radio is dead. I was in constant touch until we were one thousand feet up then it cut out.’

  ‘OK, stay alert. Let’s get out of here as soon as possible, but in the meantime set a defensive perimeter fifty yards from t
he tree line. Fall back position is the dip on the edge of the river.’ The Ranger moved off to carry out the commands.

  Danny and Craig stood together on the opposite edge of the river, partly watching the soldiers on the other side and partly examining the terrain. The oddness of the river had stood out immediately. It was as straight as an arrow, heading due north into the woods and hills that could be seen beyond them. The banks were vertical, heading deep into the river. It was almost as if the river was in fact a canal and had been constructed.

  They looked over the river at the feverishly working Rangers and Submariners.

  ‘Danny, the ship’s signalling.’ Fitz attracted his attention with a shout.

  Danny turned and looked out to sea. He concentrated on the flashing light and deciphered the code.

  ‘Oh hell!’ he turned and cupping his hands together to form a trumpet, shouted across the river.

  ‘Rangers!’ he waited until one heeded his call.

  ‘There are some people approaching from the North West. They should be here in a minute or two.’

  The Ranger sprang into instant action. He shouted at the rest of the soldiers, who in turn stopped what they were doing and checked their weapons. They gathered the sailors together under a guard of two of their number. The rest advanced fifty yards up the beach in the direction of the approaching people and prepared their weapons.

  ‘L.T. contact beyond the large tree.’ the Ranger pointed with his left arm, hand held open, fingers directing the officer’s attention.

  The Rangers held their position as a group of people walked slowly out of the trees. They noticed the Rangers immediately and started to walk unhurriedly towards them, spreading out into a crescent as they did.

  They stopped ten yards away from the Rangers, who had not moved, but were continuing to cover the strangers with the muzzles of their weapons.

  Lieutenant Fisher slowly stood and examined the strangers. There were eleven of them, all with strangely pale skin. Each was dressed similarly in a thick white tunic that fell to their thighs. Over the tunic was a leather vest that had broad strips of what appeared to be copper attached to it with rivets. The bottom of the vest had a leather skirt covering the groin, again with strips of metal attached. On their feet they wore thick-soled sandals that were laced half way up their calves.

 

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