Die Glocke
Page 24
The Washington National Airport housed the majority of the remaining US air force and it needed to be protected at all costs. Batteries of antiaircraft guns littered the area and the mobile Vulcan's were situated there; as wells as the Pentagon and the White House. One more surprise awaited the Aryans on the Potomac River itself.
In preparation for the assault all but one of the bridges across the river had been destroyed. Most of the boats in the area had been told to leave or had been scuttled where they were moored. The American troops waited, trying to get some sleep under the incessant artillery barrage from their own guns. The smell of smoke washed over the city like a wave as every street had a roadblock ablaze with tires and burning vehicles.
The artillery barrage lasted almost until dawn, straight after the American's launched their first counterattack as two squadrons of B52's rose into the moonless night sky. Their targets were the super heavy Maus tanks as they posed the greatest threat. The second squadron was tasked with destroying the enemy troops and any ME 262 fighters that intelligence suggested were still on the ground, housed on temporary airstrips.
Ten minutes later the American leadership received a bitter blow to their battle plan. They were hoping a large force from the North was going to help alleviate the growing pressure on them. But this force had been engaged by an equally large Aryan army that until that moment nobody knew existed.
Operation Breakfast
The sweeping bombers rose into the twilight dawn sky, their bellies loaded with bombs. The giant birds reached forty thousand feet then leveled off, the five-man crews were nervous; they felt uncomfortable area bombing their own country. The crews prayed to god that they would not hurt any of their own countryman.
The first formation of bombers reached the edge of Rockville just after 05:50 am. The giant cargo bays swung open as the doors split away from each other. The bombs fell quickly and impacted in long, huge lines of flaming rage. The ground shook as tons of ordinance obliterated Rockville; buildings turned into rubble as the area evaporated into a smoke-filled wasteland devoid of life.
The first squadron of B52's turned for home, they had hoped to catch the enemy out in the open as they advanced towards Washington DC; however not one of the Aryan's divisions had been in Rockville when it was flattened; the American's had only succeeded in creating a minor inconvenience for the tanks who had to drive around huge amounts of rubble.
A second squadron of bombers had taken off slightly later and was only just reaching the altitude to commence their bombing run. This time they knew where their targets were thanks to a brave light tank crew who had kept tabs on a massive enemy formation of super heavy tanks. The pilots were keen to avenge the Sheridan crew who had paid for the information with their blood.
The B52's were ready to start the run when the sky echoed emphatically to the sound of thunder. The pilots looked around but could not see any clouds. Another clap of thunder rang out across the sky; two seconds later the sky around the bombers illuminated as a bolt of lightning crashed into the lead bombers cockpit.
Glass showed over the pilots and the instruments went out one by one. The pilot was deafened and he turned disorientated to his copilot.
“What the hell was that?”
“Turner?”
“Turner...?” The pilot said again as he shook Turner's slumped body, “Wake up Turner.”
An inaudible voice came over the radio but the pilot was not listening anyway.
Another long bolt of blue lightning washed over the left wing, the mighty bombers engines burst into flames as the energy of the electricity broke off the wing tip.
The B52 started to fall from the sky as the disorientated pilot pushed down on the controls. The nose dipped straight down to the earth below. The other crews watched in horror as a third lightning strike hit the plane; it must have hit the bombs in the main cargo bay as the aircraft disintegrated in a huge explosion.
“Split...everyone split, but remain on target!”
The B52's increased the distance between individual aircraft but they stayed on their bombing runs.
The thunderclaps bounced between aircraft, the ever increasing decibels caused the airframes to creak under the strain. Lightning spread across the heavens, each bolt appeared to reach out and grasp with spiny fingers at the advancing bombers.
Back in the command center buried deep within the White House the two men in black were the only ones who knew what was coming. The two men ordered that the bombers should break off and return to base but they were unable to get a message through the intense storm around the aircraft.
The lead B52 opened its massive cargo bay and the bombs began to fall when a vast ball of light traced a path straight up the bolt of lightning into the open cargo bay. The bomber was engulfed in a great light; when the light faded several seconds later only falling debris remained.
More and more orbs of light raced from the ground, following the lightning straight onto their targets. Three more B52's were instantly vaporized. A group of bombers turned the nose of their aircraft skywards and gave as much power to the engines as they could. They hoped altitude would be their savior.
The bright purple plasma appeared to pick up speed as it homed in on the soft underbelly of the rising planes. Instantly another five bombers disappeared from the sky in a haze of light and tiny sprinkles of debris.
Finally, the remaining B52's decided to bug out and they turned and ran for home as quickly as the lumbering aircraft could muster. It was no good the orbs of light were just too fast; one after another the American bombers exploded in flashes of intense light.
A few of the bombers had managed to fall below ten thousand feet and the crews tried to desperately bailout but the few that were successful were soon cut to piece by the sheet lightning that seemed to carpet the entire sky.
The attack was a complete disaster not one of the B52's reached their targets but all were lost to the sheer volume of anti aircraft fire that Aryan Panzer group one could bring to the fight. The tanks of Panzer group one rolled on through a minefield just before Arlington.
A few heads in the American command and control room dropped as reports flooded in of tanks smashing through the minefield with ease. The order to blow the last remaining bridge across the Potomac River was given just after 07:00 hours.
A small platoon of Marines was cut off; they took up defensive positions in and around the Pentagon. They had fifteen Sheridan light tanks for backup and three Artillery pieces. The marines had refused to abandon their position and had promised to buy the forces around the White House more time.
Three of the Sheridan's moved into advanced areas so they could guide the artillery shells right down onto the targets. As the light tanks began scouting their commanders could not help but be impressed by the sobering sight.
Before them several hundred of the colossal Maus tanks kicked up gravel and dust into the air as the advanced ever closer. The super heavy tank was surprisingly quick for its size and was the most fearsome machine in the Aryan ground force. The sheer size of the tank was enough to spread fear into the enemy.
The End
Machine gun fire rang out; semi-automatic rifles were barely audible over the sound of the artillery batteries desperate bombardment. Small assault teams were positioned through the Pentagon’s windows. The roof bristled with cannons, guns and a few specialist snipers.
Sergeant Peters-Smith gingerly popped up and snatched a quick glance through the window. He counted ten Maus rolling towards their position, they fired on the move. Peters-Smith watched as the plasma rounds sailed passed; they were targeting the artillery.
“Shit.” The Sergeant said under his breath as he lowered his binoculars. He planned his next move when a familiar sound forced him to take a second look.
As Peters-Smith looked overhead he smiled as a squadron of Cobra attack helicopters roared passed. He counted again as they kept coming.
“Holy shit boys, looked like we have every chopp
a in the country on our side. Give them hell boys!”
Cheers burst out from the Marines.
The Cobra's came in fast and low hoping to avoid the deadly anti aircraft fire. They focused their fire on the advancing heavy battle tanks that were spread out in a loose formation below them. Seven 70 mm rockets tore forward; long smoke trails followed.
The rockets impacted all around the heavy tank, several missed but at least four hit their mark. The Maus's turret swung round, the second smaller cannon on the right of the turret aimed skywards and fired. The second Cobra information burst into flames as the luminescent purple round sliced through it.
More Cobras fired their rockets. The air filled with smoke as the 70 mm rockets hit home. The Maus rocked under the fire and a strange blue wave of electricity washed over it.
More and more Cobras flew over as they continued their vicious assault. The Maus tanks were priority targets but the attack helicopters took out any Tiger I tanks and troop transports that they could find as well.
Two squadrons of Huey helicopters with rocket pods followed the advancing Cobras; they swung in from the Southern side of the Pentagon and started their attack run. They had managed to catch the side of the Maus tanks.
The Huey’s rockets raced forward and detonated on the side of the mobile fortresses. The Huey’s managed to blow the tracks of several of the heavy tanks causing them to be immobilized.
The Aryan tanks were no less dangerous though and as their turrets tracked the small helicopters they fired and the bright purple plasma sprang forward and washed over three Huey’s; they were instantly turned into falling shrapnel.
Suddenly one of the immobilized Maus tanks was hit with a hail of falling shells. A large explosion followed and as the smoke cleared; all that remained of the area was several large shell craters; the monstrous tank ceased to exist.
Another salvo violently crashed into another Maus causing it to disappear in a ball of fire. The marines in the Pentagon cheered even louder. They started to believe they may have a chance of holding the advance here.
The American’s trump card was moored in the Potomac River, just south of the airport. The recently reactivated USS New Jersey’s nine, massive 406 mm guns bristled angrily. The 887 ft Iowa-class vessel is the last remaining battleship in the world. It was being utilized as a massive artillery piece.
A loud screeching sound announced the arrival of the heavy Aryan battle tank. The burning rock blocked caved in almost instantly as the Maus battered its way through; the charred frame of a lorry was pushed out of the way effortlessly.
A group of M48 Patton tanks opened fire, the rounds bounced harmless off the monsters armor. The Patton’s dispersed while continuing to fire on the move. The rounds kept hitting home but they were still ineffective.
Rhode Island Ave NW was now a burning mess of tangled vehicle hulls. The Aryan tank rotated its giant turret and focused on a Patton medium tank that was trying to flank it. The Maus fired and the plasma round clipped the back of the M48, crippling the tracks.
Three more huge tanks smashed their way through the barriers and started to fire, a US medium tank went up in flames, and the screams of the trapped burning crewman soon fell silent.
Cobra attack helicopters raced over the top of the capitol building and headed straight towards the advancing enemy armor. They flew in low and let their 70 mm rockets fly free. A Maus took the full brunt of the assault; the turret ring was shot to pieces.
Three M48’s speed forward as the crews sensed blood. The first Patton was too eager and could not react in time as a large flash of purple spat out from the damaged Maus. The plasma washed over the front of the Patton, at point-blank range the crew had no chance of survival.
The Maus clicked into reverse, gathering a surprising amount of speed quickly the tank rolled back through the roadblock which prevented the American mediums from flanking it. The cupola popped open and a soldier in full black-clad body armor appeared. He propped up what looked like a rocket launcher and rested the tube over his shoulder.
A Cobra helicopter was on the start of its strafing run and it opened up with its two multi-barrel miniguns. The bullets pinged and rebounded off of the tarmac in front of the tank. As the rounds closed in on the super heavy tank the Aryan soldier did not move. He aimed the launcher and then squeezed the trigger.
A glowing white orb zoomed straight into the attack helicopter as if it was under the soldier’s direct control. The cockpit of the Cobra completely evaporated while the rest of the fuselage crashed to the ground.
A second wave of Cobras flew in as low as they could; they were almost kissing the turf. They fast helicopters lined up for their attack runs but just as they were in position a wall of purple balls washed towards them.
The helicopters took immediate evasive action but the orbs seemed to aggressively change course and continued to levitate towards their targets. One competent pilot managed to fly low enough to get the orb to detonate on the roof of a building. Others were not so lucky.
"Where the hell did that come from?"
“No idea Taff but we need to get out of here.”
“Negative we are the only ones covering the ground forces.”
Cobra one and two flew low over the tops of the buildings and then banked for another attack on the tanks. A stream of plasma washed out from above them. The steady stream of superheated light cut into Cobra two and the smoking helicopter crashed into the houses below.
The pilot of Cobra one looked over his shoulder and to his great dismay he saw an ME 262 fighter leveling off after a steep dive.
“Shit, command this is cobra one, we have 262’s for company. Repeat we need immediate fast air support. Acknowledge we have 262’s.”
Relentless
F4 Phantoms roared in fast and low. The sky was littered with aircraft; it was difficult to lock onto targets; the radar guided aim 7 missiles were useless in this environment.
The lead Phantoms rushed onto the tail of the nimble ME 262 fighter. The Aryan plane immediately started to swing left and right to prevent the Sparrow missiles locking on. The ME 262 was exceptionally maneuverable and rushed skywards with extreme speed.
Powerful twin engines growled as the American pilots maxed the throttle in pursuit.
“You’re not getting away this time!” Flight leader Barton said to himself. The petite blonde pilot waited patiently; finally, he managed to get the targeting reticle to lead the target. He smiled as he pulled the trigger.
The powerful Gatling gun in the nose span into life, 20 mm rounds spewed out at the rate of 6000 rounds per minute. The Aryan pilot was taken by surprise and was slightly too slow to react. The rear of his plane was shot to pieces and a trail of smoke poured out from the crippled aircraft.
Barton repositioned his fighter slightly and then squeezed the trigger again. The rounds tore through the side of the tumbling ME 262; seconds later the plane exploded in a large fireball. Barton’s radar operator scanned the sky for the pilot but he had not ejected.
The air was now filled with a brilliant light show as plasma fire was accompanied by the long streaks of smoke from missiles and the beautiful red of tracer rounds. F4’s crisscrossed the paths of ME 262s in a deadly ballot.
The battle of Rhode Island Ave raged below. Cobra attack helicopters let out another volley of missiles. A tracked Tiger I was knocked out but the crew scrambled out and began laying down covering fire on a group of Americans who had ventured too close.
M48 Pattons continued to fire on the move because they knew it was game over if they were hit by the Maus’s deadly main gun.
A Maus exploded as it tried to advance through a narrow street. It was struck by another salvo from the USS New Jersey. The fighting had grown in intensity around the Pentagon in the last half an hour or so.
Sergeant Peters-Smith was worried but he knew they had to hold this area at all cost otherwise the airport would be under direct threat; without air support the city would fall.
“Sir, the last of our mobile artillery is gone. What do you think we should do now?”
“Bring the fire from the New Jersey in closer and keep the roof batteries firing. We can’t let them advance any further!” Peters-Smith ordered.
A silver flash streaked passed the roof of the Pentagon as a Navy Phantom flew over. It trailed smoke as a ME 262 continued to hose plasma in the air around it. The Phantom pilot was fighting hard to keep his plane out of the line of fire.
A second streak of silver followed a few seconds later. It was the Phantoms wingman who had managed to sneak up on the Aryan pilot. A satisfying growl reverberated in the wingman’s ear; he knew he was locked on and squeezed the trigger.
To the relief of the young pilot the sidewinder whooshed forward and tracked the target perfectly. The missile sped at the target but at the last second the ME 262 broke hard right and then rotated one hundred and eighty degrees in an impossible maneuver.
The wingman watched in horror as the sidewinder streaked towards the first Phantom. It detonated as it struck the rear engines and the cockpit split from the fuselage; the cockpit crumpled as it hit the ground and rolled end over end.
The young wingman had no time to mourn though as the ME 262 fired a large ball of plasma that tracked the Phantom. With nowhere to go the young man and his radar operator ejected before the plasma ball disintegrated their plane.
Fixed artillery batteries on the Pentagon’s roof continued to fire. The women operating the guns had been working nonstop for the last four hours. They were covered in dirt and grime but their spirit was not broken.
Sergeant Peters-Smith could not believe the women’s resolve, not because they were women but because they were volunteers with only a few hours training. If they could fight this hard, then his marines must fight harder; they owed the civilians that at least.