“Evac! Now! Go, go, go!”
He had no way to communicate with the other two tanks and he wouldn’t risk any of his men to do so. He had to rely on the fact that they were observing the situation through their rear-mounted cameras. He signalled with his hands for them to pull back, hoping somebody was watching. Without wasting anymore time he turned back to the loaded APC, his men were already climbing aboard.
Green and the others from the roof slid down the ladders on the side of the building, desperately trying to escape the ferocious onslaught. There were less soldiers returning than had been sent up, but Jones knew that it was a waste of time to ask after them.
“Get onto the vehicle!”
The soldiers on top of the tracked APC hauled their comrades aboard. There were now just seventy men left in his company. As many as possible were piling aboard the final APC, though only thirty were able to fit at a squeeze.
“Get this junk moving!” he shouted.
The APC lurched forward, leaving the Captain and more than half of his men behind. He turned to look back, praying that the others had gotten his message. They could hear tracks rolling, but they were muffled through the continuous gunfire and explosions around them. Out of the smoke the first vehicle appeared.
Several scorch marks were burnt into the armour plating. The tank stopped briefly to allow many of the men to climb aboard. Seconds later the second heavy tank burst through the thick black smoke. It barely resembled the first anymore. The turret was completely missing, blown off from a huge energy pulse weapon. Smoke bellowed from the engine block and the turret ring was still smouldering.
The driver’s hatch was half destroyed and they could make out the bloody face of the distraught woman who sat at the helm. However wounded she was, she was still fighting. The men looked at the sight in disbelief. The destruction to the heaviest tanks in deployment made them all feel more mortal than ever before.
“Get on!” Jones ordered.
The last of the para company climbed aboard the scarred vehicle. There was nothing left of the two turret crew other than a trace of blood where they’d been ripped out along with the main gun turret. Through the gaping hole they could see that the hull gunner had been killed instantly by an energy pulse blasting right through his body armour and to the seat behind him. He lay slumped on the controls.
The driver was all who remained in the vehicle. Her helmet was off and blood poured from a head wound, she looked back for just a moment to see the soldiers clamber aboard.
Jones gave her the thumbs up and a nod, not just to confirm they were ready to move, but in appreciation and respect. The vehicle lurched forward with a creek. Pushing the vehicle to the limit of what it could still manage it would survive no more than a kilometre or two. Jones looked around at his comrades who had the grimmest of expressions about their faces.
The friends that they had lost were a tragic and earth shattering strike to the morale of the troops. But more so than that, they were coming to the realisation that they stood almost no chance of leaving Brest alive. The only relief was that they were giving hundreds of thousands of civilians the opportunity to escape.
Jones looked down at his hands. The gloves he wore were cut and blood seeped through from where debris had struck him. His armour was covered in a thick layer of dust from the destruction of the buildings all around him. His mouth was dry from the lack of water and smoke filled air.
As the vehicle stormed up the ruined street, Charlie looked back at the site they had left. He could see the bodies of two soldiers they had been forced to leave behind. The scene was peaceful again, the same horrible quiet that follows every bloody battle. Smoke still bellowed from the tank they’d lost. Turning a bend in the road he lost sight of the weapons depot and the carnage surrounding it.
Wanting nothing more than to forget everything he’d just seen, Charlie already knew that he never would, not for however many hours or days he had left to live. They had done everything that was asked of them, but it was at such a fearful cost.
It was not long before they reached friendly lines. The buildings around the perimeter were lined with troops from the French Armoured Corps. They watched, horrified at the sight of the smashed vehicle that they rode atop. Dozens of British troops were intermingled with the French soldiers, the few who from Jones’ division which had managed to reach the city. They had fled there for safety.
The smoking wreck of the tank came to a halt in the crossroads where Girard and his command centre were setup. The APCs were already being raided for everything they had. The British troops leapt off the vehicle as Girard and Chandra closed in. Jones climbed to the front of the vehicle and knelt down beside the wrecked driver’s hatch. The woman at the controls looked up at him with a haunted expression on her blood-strewn face.
“Captain Jones. Thanks for saving our arses, Sergeant.”
He offered his hand to the injured driver. She first looked stunned, but then grasped his bloodied hand. Jones hauled her out of her seat quicker than expected. She was far lighter than he thought, shorter than any among them and close to half his weight.
“Captain! Good to see you made it back!” Chandra shouted.
“Major, we’re a tank down, we lost plenty of soldiers out there, and whatever hit us will be coming down that road shortly!”
He helped the driver down from the vehicle, jumping down beside her. Girard noticed at the stricken driver with horror. He couldn’t find any words to say to her. Chandra looked down at her body armour, just able to make out her name under the dirt and blood.
“Sergeant Dubois, get yourself to the aid station.”
The bedraggled tank driver nodded. She could not bring herself to speak or to salute her superiors. She staggered off as commanded, still badly shaken over the loss of her crew. Jones turned back to his Major. He could feel that she was rapidly heading into same disillusioned state as the driver. Chandra was lost for words as she looked over his bloody and filthy armour.
“Captain, well done! You’ve kept us in to the fight. I must get these supplies moving, they are desperately needed!”
Jones nodded to the French Colonel as he rushed off to organise the distribution of the ammunition they’d brought back at such a high cost.
“Jones, you are to get back on the southern perimeter. We need every soldier in the fight,” Chandra ordered quietly.
Charlie wondered if this new hell would ever be over. He supposed that death would be the only end in sight. He nodded before turning to his men and barking his orders. They glared at him in despair, not half recovered from the beating they’d just received.
Commander Kelly sat in what had become their operational headquarters. Computers had been hurriedly set up in a haphazard fashion with as much equipment as they could scavenge as time went by. Lewis sat at his makeshift comms desk. He barely knew what to do, having so little of the equipment and resources he’d been trained for and become so accustomed.
“Have you patched into the library feed yet?”
“Yes, Sir, we can now send messages directly from my station. It’s a hardwired connection though, meaning this is the only terminal which can be used,” replied Lewis.
“Understood, good work.”
Kelly turned to look at the people at his command. Many of his surviving NCOs and officers lay about the room. Few conversations took place. The excitement of receiving help from Earth had already died down. Back was the grim realisation of the harrowing lives they now lived.
“Listen up! Everyone!” he shouted.
They all turned to him, wanting nothing more than to be told that everything was going to be okay. They hung onto the Commander’s every word, praying he would bring them to victory or safety.