“Bombing raid incoming on your position, fall back fifty metres from the river, over.”
“Who is this?”
“Orders direct from Brigadier Dupont. Inform Colonel Chandra to fall back immediately, you have three minutes to haul arse, over.”
Taylor threw down the handset and snapped his head around to look at the survivors who continued to fight at the walls.
“Fall back! Fall back! Now!”
The men initially looked at him with both shock and disbelief. It was the command they had hoped for from the beginning but never expected to receive. They had all prepared themselves to fight and die where they stood.
Taylor and Jones rushed to Chandra who was propped up at the end of one of the firing positions.
“What’s going on, Major?” she shouted.
“Dupont has an airstrike incoming, we’ve got three minutes to get the hell out of this death trap!”
The two men got either side of the Colonel and wrapped her arms around their shoulders, taking the weight off her crippled leg.
“Everyone out now!” shouted Taylor.
There were few wounded in the bunker, most being killed outright by the onslaught of the enemy’s heavy weapons. Friendly artillery continued to fly overhead and pound the enemy positions. They stormed down the stairwells of the bunker. Only half the soldiers who had entered the battered building had made it out alive. They rushed across the wide-open street towards the next line of buildings fifty metres back from the riverside.
Taylor shouted to the infantry in the trenches as they passed by. Some were already leaping out and following the troops fleeing back, others stayed and fought on. The hole-ridden bunker at their backs did them one last service, giving them cover as they fell back. They could already make out friendly troops that had taken up positions in the tall commercial buildings they were approaching.
Chandra squirmed in pain as the two officers hauled her. They were as surprised as she that she’d survived the explosion, but it was little relief in the ongoing battle. The occupying troops filled every window in sight with their weapons at the ready. One building had completely collapsed between two of the friendly positions, its rubble provided ample cover.
“There!” shouted Taylor.
“Damn right, I’d rather die fighting than be crushed when the next building comes down!” Jones added.
The survivors from the bunker swarmed into the ruins and immediately took up position looking back towards the bridge where they’d run from. Many of the troops in the trenches continued to fire at the advancing enemy with everything they had. The air was suddenly filled with the reverberating drone of a huge wing of heavy bombers.
Looking overhead, Taylor watched as a wall of fighters stormed across the sky with all guns blazing. Rocket trails filled the air as missiles soared towards the enemy aircraft. The fighters were cutting a path through at a great cost to make way for the bombers. Lights pulsed in the sky as ground weapons fired up against the mass of aircraft.
Their attention was quickly drawn ahead as an enemy tank had managed to gain a foothold on the bridge and brush aside the countless burning wrecks. It rolled on past the trenches as the troops had little left that could stop it.
“Tank!” shouted Jones.
The men in the buildings next to them had already opened up with their weapons but most of the gunfire and ARMAL devices were bouncing off its thick armour.
“Get the Aardvarks firing!” he shouted again.
Captain Friday ducked and weaved in between the rubble as the gunfire increased. The tank’s three guns were firing relentlessly into the friendly position and blowing holes out of the building.
“Sir! Aardvark ammo is almost out! Grenades are getting low too!”
“Just keep firing!”
Trails from the rocket launchers slammed into the tank as it continued to roll towards them. The main gun lowered in readiness to fire at their position just as a volley of rockets slammed into it causing the vehicle to amble to a halt. Holes littered its armour and there were no signs of life. As they stared at the result of their work, they had failed to see what was happening overhead. Massive explosions erupted around the river instantly deafening them all.
The troops ducked down as stone and glass was projected hundreds of metres through the air and the ground shook. Taylor lifted his head just a little to look at the carnage up ahead. Bombs smashed the enemy positions in an almost continuous stream for as far and wide as his eye could see. The ear splitting onslaught was excruciating and many simply dropped their weapons and covered their ears.
For a solid five minutes the barrage continued and the wreckage of enemy vehicles and Mechs was scattered and blasted into thousands of pieces. Buildings collapsed all across the waterfront and beyond. The trench positions disappeared into a ball of smoke as the friendly positions there was utterly destroyed. The brave troops who had kept up the fight were all but a memory.
Some of the troops began to scream from the unrelenting assault all around them. Their mouths were wide and faces taut, bellowing with all their energy, though nobody could hear them. Finally the bombing came to an end. As Jones’ hearing began to recover he realised how unsettling the new silence was. Smoke and dust clouds still filled the air.
“They’ve done it!” shouted Silva.
The troops now blended in with the rubble they occupied, dust and grit sticking to every spec of their clothing and armour. Taylor stood up to look out at the scene. The bunker they recently occupied had lost its two upper floors but was still standing defiantly. Over the other side of the water they could see that the streets had been flattened. Stacked rubble had all but covered the remaining wrecked vehicles.
The centre of the river bridge had finally collapsed. The Major sighed in relief. For a moment he thought they had won the fight, but his face quickly turned to a grimace as the sound of tracks began to roll in the distance. The men stared in terror across the rubble but were unable to make out any movement due to the thick cloud of dust.
None of them could believe that the enemy could have survived the onslaught in any great number, and yet, tanks were approaching. They looked once more at the bridge and were thankful that it had finally fallen. Through the dust cloud a few Mechs appeared. They were covered in dirt and filth so that they blended into the ruins just as the humans did. Seconds later the first tank burst into view.
“What are they doing?” asked Ortiz.
He lifted his huge anti-materiel rifle and slammed it down on what was left of a pillar next to them. Lifting the stock to his shoulder he peered through the scope at the increasing number of enemy who were still six hundred metres away.
“What the fuck is that?”
“What is it?” Taylor shouted.
He yanked out the binoculars from his webbing lifting them to his eyes. The vehicle was taller and wider than anything they had seen but he couldn’t make out any weapons on it. The monstrous tracked vehicle continued to roll towards the bridge, other more familiar vehicles following and Mechs were pouring towards the river.
“It’s a bridging tank! Take cover and be ready!”
“Sir, we can’t hold back another assault with armour, we have barely a heavy weapon among us,” said Jones.
Taylor looked around in desperation. He prayed that the troops in the buildings alongside them still had rockets, though he knew it was too much to hope for. Huddling behind the massive piles of rubble and walls still standing, the survivors of the battalion had grim expressions. They knew that they were being asked to give up their lives to defend the city, but they still held on to the hope of victory even in the face of the dreaded alien armies.