Time War: Onslaught

by Nick S. Thomas

  The six-wheeler rolled out and revealed Porter sitting on the back beside the gun. It rolled to a halt.

  "Can we even fly this thing in?" he asked in amazement.

  "Sure can, I checked," replied Porter.

  "Really think that will be necessary?" Hotwell asked.

  Porter looked at him with scorn. "Never been on the front-line, have you, Captain?" he asked disparagingly.

  "Not really."

  "When you find yourself looking down the barrel of some ridiculous tank, with a Nazi bastard looking back at you, you'll be glad I brought Shirley here along for the ride."

  "Shirley?" Corwin asked.

  "Named after the sweet little thing that delivered this baby to us. She sure showed her commitment to the cause," he said with a sleazy grin. He picked up a cigar and lit it while still sitting casually next to the gun. Hotwell didn't say another word. Corwin seemed to have turned his attention to the gun itself.

  "So? What can she do?"

  Porter left it up to Hotwell to fill in with the details. He looked over the weapon and then the ammunition boxes beside it.

  "QF 6-pounder, staple of the Royal Artillery, and with APDS Sabot shells. This Shirley of yours can certainly pack a punch."

  "And if we come up against heavy armour?"

  "She certainly will pack a punch, but I wouldn't advise going toe to toe with any Tigers."

  "Understood."

  "Really, Captain, if you have a need of this kind of weapon, you are already in too deep."

  "Yeah, well you leave that down to us. I like to know we can handle anything should the need arise. You know how often a mission goes to plan?"

  Hotwell shrugged.

  "Pretty much never, because for some reason the enemy don't seem keen to go along with your best laid plans."

  Corwin looked to the driver's seat and was surprised to find Chas at the wheel. She was covered in dirt, grim, and oil, and yet had a huge smile on her face.

  "You like our new baby?"

  "This was your doing?"

  "Well, hell, yes. What, you think just because I like pretty things I can't appreciate a beast like this?"

  "No, but how the hell did you manage to get that miserable bastard to work on it with you?" Corwin was pointing to Porter.

  "He ain't so bad. You just have to know how to handle him right."

  "Ain't that the truth?" Porter grinned.

  Hotwell blushed, clearly uncomfortable with the sexual innuendo.

  "So we're all ready?" Corwin asked Beyett as he strolled out from the building.

  "As ready as we can be. This is all pretty simple tech, but it will pack a punch, and we can keep it operational in the field with the most basic of tools."

  "A couple of days and you already know these vehicles inside out?"

  "It's like being a kid again. They are nothing more than big toys to me."

  Corwin looked to Hotwell.

  "It's on you now. We need intel, a departure time, and a landing zone."

  Hotwell stepped up to the bonnet of Shirley and drew out a map, placing it as flat as it would go over the ammo boxes.

  "Gather around. I want you all to hear this!" Corwin shouted.

  They did so and waited to hear what Hotwell had to say.

  "The location of Hitler is one of the most closely guarded secrets of this century. What little information we do get tends to be weeks, if not months after the fact."

  "Okay, so what can you give us?" Corwin asked.

  "Just one lead."

  "One?"

  "That's right, but it may be enough. One of Hitler's favourite driver's is a man named Konrad Dohman."

  "A driver? That all?"

  "Porter, let him finish."

  "Dohman is a good friend and aid to the Fuehrer, and at present he is laid up sick in Southern France. We know his location and that he will be there for another few days. We know Hitler himself is in that area as well, but we cannot pin it down beyond a few hundred miles."

  Porter laughed.

  "But!" Hotwell interrupted, "Hitler will not return to Germany without Dohman unless his condition grows worse, which I am reliably informed he will not."

  "What is this guy, his boyfriend?"

  "Do you leave your comrades behind?"

  Nylund begrudgingly saw his point and agreed with him.

  "It could be enough, or it could be useless to us," added Beyett.

  "Either way, it's what we have got, and we must go forward with it. I won't sit around here any longer. We go in, get what information we can, and keep moving forward. We remain behind enemy lines until such time as our mission is complete."

  "And if it proves impossible?" Lecia asked.

  "Several extraction routes will be available to you, but none will be easy," added Hotwell.

  "When do we fly?"

  "Weather conditions are as anticipated and ideal. You depart at 2000 hours and travel through the night."

  A jeep rolled into view, and Hotwell climbed inside.

  "I will have all final preparations made ready for you. Just be ready at 1700 hours for the final briefing."

  The vehicle sped off across the camp, and Corwin looked back to see that it was setting in now, just how ridiculous and terrifying the mission would be.

  "You didn't think it was gonna be easy, did you?" he asked them.

  "Not too late to back out of this party, is it?"

  Corwin could see Travers was at least still smiling and talking in jest, but there was also fear and dread in his eyes.

  CHAPTER 7

  The drone of the engines had long become boring. Corwin looked out of one of the windows of their transport plane.

  Still nothing, he thought to himself, looking out into the blackness of the night.

  Like most populated areas it was under blackout conditions, for both sides relentlessly bombed another and used any lighting possible as a reference.

  A light flashed in the distance, and then another. They were out on the horizon and soon became almost a constant firework display, but only just getting far enough to briefly outline their craft. He watched one of the transports flying nearby and Chas’ face at the window. He could just see her blow a kiss to him, and he didn’t know what to make of it, so he smiled and then turned back to those in the hold with him. They were sitting close to one of the armoured jeeps. Lecia and Badcock were opposite him.

  “Still think it was a good idea dividing us up this much?”

  “We had to, Lecia. Three per vehicle is about all we can manage with the amount of ammo we are taking in!”

  They had to raise their voices to even be heard over the turbo prop engines.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I thought you liked working alone?”

  She shrugged.

  “Sorta, but I like having a team to back me up, not being in the spotlight with all guns aimed at me!”

  Corwin smiled, knowing how she felt. He looked to Badcock who seemed mesmerised by it all. He showed no fear at all.

  “What are you so happy about, Corporal?”

  “It’s like the moment before a race. It’s exhilarating!”

  Corwin thought to shoot down his hopeless enthusiasm, but knew it was keeping him calm and effective, so he held his tongue.

  “What’s your name, again? I’m Wyatt.”

  He looked a little surprised, seeming to pause and wonder if it was some kind of test before finally answering.

  “Tim.”

  Corwin began to laugh.

  “Your parents named you Tim Badcock?” he asked, still laughing.

  “My uncle did. He was like a father to me, a racer, a real racer. Hot blooded and fearless. He said my father would never have approved, but that he wanted to give me a name people would remember when they saw me cross the finish line.”

  “That’ll do it.”

  He seemed utterly calm and relaxed with the two of them, and that pleased Corwin. Since being given his Captaincy, he had been
treated very differently by many who did not know him. Badcock turned to Lecia and seemed to study her as if both curious and entranced.

  “So what’s your story? Not exactly a homely lass, are you?” he asked.

  Corwin shook his head. He knew she wouldn’t take it well, even if he didn’t mean any harm.

  “You’re pretty cocky for a man who pissed himself under fire.”

  “Come on now, that’s not fair,” said Corwin.

  “No, no. I froze. I have seen it before. Some people do it behind the wheel of a car, others at the sight of a wild animal. Me, it’s gunfire. I could do five hundred miles an hour in the open air with a big grin on my face if I could, that’s my thing. That’s what you brought me along for. You two, you are fighters. I drive, I ride, and I fly. You fight. Seems like a reasonable deal?”

  “And when the shit hits the fan, and you are all that can help us? Will you freeze then?”

  It was clear she was starting to get to him.

  “Lecia…leave it.”

  The man fell silent for a moment and seemed a little embarrassed and ashamed.

  “You remember when you first went into combat, Lecia?”

  She shook her head and grimaced.

  “Yeah, that’s right. This one flipped a transport, launched her commanding officer out on his ass, and crashed into a cliff side. It wasn’t all that pretty.”

  Badcock smiled and then glanced at her as if to ask for permission to laugh. She shrugged and began to smile.

  “Okay, I get your point,” she said to Corwin.

  He was glad to see the tone had lightened and so took his opportunity.

  “The time will come where you are gonna have to be at peace with both using a gun and taking fire from one, you get that, right?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And that the time might come much sooner than you might like.”

  “I don’t think anyone likes getting shot at.”

  “No. So when it does happen, and it will, you keep your head in the game. You remember that your actions affect the outcome of all our lives. That is what it is to be a team. We are stronger when we work together. So I don’t care how good you drive or fly, you have to work with us, can you do that?”

  “I think so.”

  “You’re a maverick, a wild one, I get that. But it’s time to channel all that crazy into being the soldier we need you to be.”

  "I told you what I was when I agreed to join you, Captain."

  "Yes you did, and I am here to tell you that you can be more than that."

  Corwin pulled a transit chest along the floor and opened it to reveal a silenced Sten submachine gun, with two seven magazine bandoliers beside it. He threw the gun at the Corporal who had no choice but to catch it. He proceeded to kick the box of ammunition so that it slid over in front of Badcock.

  "You're our driver right now, and I hope that is all you need to be, but there are no guarantees in war. The next time you need to use your weapon, you will do so, or I'll shoot you myself."

  Badcock saw Corwin was serious and found it hard to protest.

  "You know I am not up to this?"

  "Then it's time to make a change. There is no room for hesitation, and you won't get many second chances. I need to know we can rely on you."

  He pulled the Sten sling and two bandoliers over his neck and lay back against the fuselage.

  "And don't look so miserable. You are an adrenaline junky, and I am providing you with the most excitement of your life. You're about to make a jump into enemy territory with your own personally built hot rod, what's not to like?"

  "Exactly that," he grumbled, "I fly, ride, and drive. I don't jump out of a perfectly good aircraft and let gravity to do the work. That's just not natural."

  Corwin laughed.

  "You'll laugh about this someday, too."

  "Why?" he asked in amazement.

  "Because it'll mean you survived, and then it could be nothing but funny. This is a ridiculous situation, and one day we will have the luxury of laughing about it, and if we don't, it's because we are dead and have nothing more to worry about."

  "That's helpful," replied Badcock sarcastically.

  The co-pilot stepped out from the cockpit and into the hold.

  "It's time!"

  "Okay, let's do this!"

  Corwin got up and latched the carabineer of his release cord onto the rail above them, taking a firm grasp on the handrail to the side as the others did the same. He nodded to the co-pilot who moved to the controls of the bomb bay doors beneath the jeep.

  "Really think it'll survive?" asked Lecia.

  "These people aren't stupid. They won the war as it should have been without us."

  "What do you mean?" Badcock asked.

  "Nothing."

  They watched the doors slide open beneath them, revealing just how low they were flying. The jeep began to sway, as there was nothing beneath its landing crate. For what Corwin was used to it was nothing, but for a parachute drop it was close to crazy.

  "This is gonna be rough," he said quietly to himself.

  They all knew what they had to do. He just had to hope for the best and do his own part. The co-pilot looked to him for one last confirmation, and Corwin gave him the thumbs up. The straps released, and the jeep dropped out from the fuselage. They all watched and waited for the pilot to give the go ahead. Finally, he pointed, and Corwin took his leap out of the payload doors.

  The cold evening air immediately struck his uncovered face. He only had a few moments to look around at the woodland when he felt and heard his ‘chute deploy above him and sharply slow his descent. He was a few hundred feet off the ground, and the wind was taking him eastward towards a thick line of trees, and he had no control at all.

  "Ah, fuck!"

  All he could do was hold on, brace, and hope. He looked around for some sign of the others. He could make out a few silhouettes and see some of the ‘chutes. The combined ‘chutes of the jeep caught his eye just as it vanished behind some trees back to the west. He had to turn his attention to his own descent, and did so just as he reached the nearest trees. He crashed through the branches of two. They slowed his fall greatly, but he soon smashed into more branches before breaking free and falling the last of the way. To his surprise his landing was a lot softer than he expected, but as he collapsed down onto his back, he heard the squelch of water and mud. He had come down in a bog.

  Fuck me!

  He got back to his feet and unclipped his harness and threw off his jump helmet. It wouldn't be much good in a fight, and the one he had brought from his own time was long gone. He looked around for his Bren that had been in the drop bag beneath him, but it was nowhere to be seen.

  "Good start," he muttered to himself.

  His hand reached for his Colt, but then he remembered where he was. His hand froze as it reached the grip, remembering how loud the .45 calibre weapon was. He reached across to a shoulder holster and drew out a new weapon that had been added to their arsenal, the High Standard HDM, a 10-shot semi-automatic pistol with integral silencer. The small calibre pistol wasn't his style at all, but he looked around, noting how alone he was, and the quietness. While as he was thinking it, he heard a few coughs and sighs. Badcock stumbled into view through some trees and fell as he became entangled in his parachute harness. The lines were cut and frayed. Corwin rushed to his side and began to untangle him.

  "What the hell happened to you?"

  "Got snagged by those damned trees. Had to cut my way loose, and landed on my bloody head."

  "You got your weapons?"

  He held up his Sten.

  Corwin looked down at the compass on his wrist.

  "Where is Esperon?"

  "No idea, but you're one of us now, you call her Lecia. Now let's find that fucking jeep."

  He chambered a round into his pistol and went onwards through the trees to track his way back to the vehicle. He could not help but feel weak and vulnerable with such little
firepower to hand, and despite what he’d said to Badcock, he didn't have much faith in him in a firefight. He tried to make his way as quietly as possible. The soft ground helped, but there was no choice but to rustle the thick tree branches as they made their way through.

  "Think the others made it okay?"

  "They'll be fine. We've just been scattered is all. It's to be expected," replied Corwin.

  He was half telling the truth. In his own head he was livid with the awful drop that had been made, but there was no choice now but to suck it up and go forward.

  "I sure hope my girl made it," said Badcock.

  Corwin turned in surprise, not understanding what he meant.

  "That beautiful jeep," he clarified.

  Corwin smiled. "Don't get too attached. Where we are going, we may not hang onto what we have for long."

  "I'll find a way."

  As they neared a tree line, Corwin noticed a faint light in the distance. He quickly took a knee, pulling Badcock down so that the foliage concealed them.

  "Don't move."

  He pointed to the light. It was moving and muted like the blackout light of a military vehicle.

  "It's one of ours. They made it," Badcock said hopefully.

  He tried to get to his feet to step out into the open and greet them, but Corwin once again hauled him down.

  "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Got to be one of ours, who else would be out here?"

  "Don't be an idiot. That could be anyone. Do you take those kinds of risks when you are racing?"

  Badcock shrugged. "Sure."

  "Well, not here, you don't!"

  "Okay...okay, fair enough."

  Corwin released his grip now that he was satisfied the Corporal was holding his ground. They heard the rasp of an exhaust. It was nothing like the customised jeeps they had brought with them, but that of a motorcycle.

  Fuck, Corwin thought.

  "How?" Badcock asked, "How could they have known we were here?"

  "They probably didn't. Likely a routine ride or some troop movements we didn't know about."

  "What? How did our intelligence not pick this up?"

  "Are you serious? You think everything can be tracked with that much certainty?"

  "Seems a little too convenient."

  "Shhh," snapped Corwin, "You know how much noise we made getting down here? Anyone around could have heard us."