“How on earth did you find us?” asked Chandra.
“You don’t think I knew this would be the first place you’d be when all hell broke loose?” she asked.
“You got space?”
“Climb in!”
The Company rushed to fill the vehicles and climb on top. Explosions erupted all around the base. Their anti-aircraft defences continued to pour fire into the oncoming craft, but they were only able to destroy a handful of their attackers. Pulses smashed down into the ground as the five vehicles rumbled forwards and out towards the western entrance. They watched in despair as the base was hit by barrages; so heavy that many of the buildings were flattened.
“I thought you’d never come. All that time in that cell, all I could think about was all of you, fighting where I should be,” murmured Taylor.
“Schulz has been a thorn in our side all the way. Maybe now we can get free of his idiotic grasp,” replied Chandra.
He turned to Jones with a smile.
“And you, you made it? Back in uniform, and at the front of it all again.”
Chandra smiled, but thought back to the suicidal scene she had seen at the trenches. She couldn’t bring herself to discuss it so soon after finally getting Taylor back, but she knew it was a new obstacle to overcome. Despite the fact that they were yet again on the run, she couldn’t help but be thankful to have Taylor back among them.
“We lose anyone?” she asked Silva.
“I saw one of Suarez’s platoon killed and a few from mine wounded, but we got off pretty lightly,” he replied.
“What will we do now that Ramstein has fallen?” he asked.
The others listened in intently.
“General Schulz may be a bastard, but he isn’t an idiot. All forces that have arrived in the last couple of months have been establishing a tiered defence over the next twenty kilometres east. We always knew a push like this was possible, and that we couldn’t rely on a single barrier to stop them.”
“Christ, he really has done his homework,” replied Taylor.
“As I said, a bastard, not an idiot. I have no doubt the Generals will have been the first out before the base fell, and they will be eager to know how you escaped.”
“What will you tell them?”
“The truth. You’ve seen what the enemy does to human prisoners. It was my duty of care to ensure your safety. Quite frankly, I believe the General will have enough on his plate to worry about you right now. He needs every soldier he can get, so he’ll just have to put up with you.”
“You really thought this through, hey, Major?” he jested.
“No, I’m making it up as I go along, and it’s just working out for the best.”
Taylor smiled, and he knew she wasn’t joking, although it still didn’t sit well with him that the circumstances of his rescue were attributable to the deaths of probably thousands of soldiers. He got up and stepped up towards the driver’s seat where Dubois was at the controls.
“You saved our asses again, Sergeant, you our guardian angel or something?”
She smiled as she looked back, gazing at Captain Jones. Taylor smiled, noting her affection for the Captain. He looked back and could see the blank expression on Jones’ face he remembered from when rescuing him. He could see that Jones was not the man he used to know. His heart sank, knowing that it was all for nothing.
Chapter 8
Taylor sat in a cold damp trench once again. He still wore his prison issue white clothing, and the light of day hurt his eyes. Of all the places to be in life, he would never have wanted to be where he was in those circumstances. And yet after his incarceration, he was revelling in his freedom. He lay back against the soggy earth that stained his shirt and took in the fresh air. They were a couple of kilometres from the main line.
“Major!” He looked up to see Silva drop a clean set of BDUs into his lap. He recognised the camouflage pattern as used by the Germans. It was a darker and more disrupted pattern to their own, but it had been fitted with his rank insignia and American flag.”
“Best I can do.”
Taylor sat up and looked at the hand-stitched insignia and smiled.
“Much appreciated, Sergeant.”
He stood up and pulled off his damp and dirty clothing where he stood and pulled on what Silva had brought him. It was comforting to once again be wearing proper attire, even if it was improvised. He peered around at the troops around him and noticed that a handful of others in their Company wore the same.
“It’s pretty hard to get replacement gear from the States, right now. I guess the postal service is slacking,” Silva grinned.
The troops looked a hotchpotch mix with three uniforms being prevalent amongst them now, and most were heavily worn and faded. He looked out east across the open plain. He could see line after line of trenches as far as the eye could see; with tanks dug in to hull down positions, and serviceable turrets from destroyed vehicles setup as emplacements.
“Looks like the troops here have been busy.”
“We had no idea. We thought when Ramstein fell we were in the shit. Turns out everyone expected that to happen. I guess it ain’t surprising, considering we lost Paris and all that.”
Taylor suddenly realised he’d fallen into a daydream while lying down and peering up at the sky. A couple of hours had passed, but it had done him some good. He’d got better sleep out there on the edge of a muddy trench than he’d ever had in prison.
“Chandra and Jones about?”
“They’ve been called up to Command.”
“Ah, shit, Schulz know I’m out?”
“No idea, but he doesn’t miss much.”
“Ain’t that the god damn truth?”
A new round of shelling rang out in the distance. They were too far from the action to see it, but they all knew the kind of relentless brutality that was being thrashed against their defences. Taylor looked out over the forest canopy to the west to see plumes of smoke rising and alien craft on the skyline.
“Poor bastards.”
“Hey, we’ve done more than our fair share,” replied Silva.
“True, but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. To have to live through such a time… what did we do to deserve it?”
“Wrong place, wrong time, I guess.”
Taylor chuckled. He admired the fact that Silva could never be reduced to the depression and misery that plagued so many of their fellow soldiers in such dire times.
“Do you know what our orders are?” asked Taylor.
Silva looked up with a bemused expression. He’d never in his life heard the Major ask him such.
“I don’t believe we even have any. Allied forces have been ordered to dig in all over, but I doubt anyone even knows where we are, right now.”
“How did Chandra get called up then?”
“Despatch riders relayed the command.”
“Then I guess they know where we are!”
“I wouldn’t take it for granted, Sir. Communication and organisation has gone to shit. As far as I know, the only stand is to dig in and hold your ground wherever you are.”
“That worked a treat in Ramstein.”
Silva sighed, as he knew it to be true. Taylor hadn’t been at the front line, but he knew all too well what it was like to face their invaders with such antiquated equipment.
“I hear the first production Reitech gear has been issued,” stated Silva.
“That scuttlebutt, Sergeant, or have you seen it with your own eyes?”
Silva shrugged his shoulders as Taylor looked at the horizon lighting up in the distance with artillery fire. Facing the Krycenaeans was a fearful thing, but he hated knowing that fellow soldiers were dying just a few kilometres away while he stood and chatted. He turned back to Silva.
“This tiered defence. It’ll work you know. Or at least, it has the best chance of working, but it’ll cost countless lives.”
“Which option wouldn’t?” he retorted.