“Thank you, Sir. We’d be more than happy to accompany you to Paris, but I cannot promise that we’ll be any assistance in understanding what is there.”
Jones paced cautiously along a roadside, looking in every window and alcove as he passed. Abandoned cars still littered the roads. Some were burnt out wrecks, while others seemed to have past through the conflict like a time capsule. Brick dust and other grime covered every visible surface, and huge craters were still littering the streets.
“Need to get those bloody engineers here, and get these holes filled in!” Monty shouted.
Jones stopped and turned to watch his unit pass through the rubble and debris of the city. He shook his head in astonishment. It was hard to believe that it could ever return to its former glory. He caught a glimmer of light in the distance as light reflected off a moving object. The Captain quickly lifted his binoculars.
His body went taut at the thought they were not alone. He panned around to find the source of the light, and then finally down to the street ahead could see Yorath and his unit coming out from a side alley up ahead. He let go of the binoculars and let them rest on his chest as he peered around at all the derelict structures around them. He hoped friendly forces were the source of the glimmer, but he doubted they were so lucky.
Just as he felt his shoulders relax, an explosion ripped through the street in the distance, and the ground shook beneath them. Jones instinctively leapt for cover and tumbled across the road. He ran over broken glass before landing back on one knee beside an upturned police cruiser. His heart sunk, as he already knew that yet another comrade and friend would be dead. He prayed for it not to be the case, but it was unavoidable.
Jones took a deep breath and raised himself up high enough to peer over the vehicle down towards Yorath’s unit. There were no screams or sounds of gunfire. The apocalyptical street was once more silent as all of the soldiers in it froze beside their cover. They awaited the onslaught of an enemy barrage or ambush, but it never came.
“Come in Yorath, report,” he whispered.
Static came over his mic and the sound of breathing as the Lieutenant tried to find the words to tell him.
“We’ve, we’ve got two down.”
“What is their status?”
“One wounded, and he’ll make it. The other is gone.”
Jones shook his head in anger.
“We made it through. This is bullshit,” whispered Jones to himself.
He looked up and all around for some signs of the enemy, but he already speculated that it was a planted explosive of some sort.
“Any indication of enemies in the vicinity?” he asked.
“None.”
Jones stood up from behind the car and walked casually towards Yorath’s platoon. Jones’ unit followed after him, though more cautiously. They reached the scene of the explosion and could see Private Nichols had been torn apart by the blast and killed instantly.
At least there’s enough left for a funeral. It’s more than most have got these last months, thought Jones.
A few metres away, the medic was attending to the other casualty. Jones could see the wounds were only superficial from shrapnel. The man’s body armour showed deep scrapes and scars where the cuirass had saved his life. He was more stunned that hurt.
“Shit, this isn’t how it’s supposed to have gone,” whispered Jones.
He spoke under his breath so that others wouldn’t hear, but he did not have such luck. Yorath got to his feet and stepped up beside the Captain.
“What are we even still doing here? Haven’t we given enough for this country? We should go home, and let their own people sort this mess out. I didn’t see civilians rushing forward to help fight this war, so why should we do all the work?” he asked.
Jones winced at the fact the Lieutenant had made his despondent words loud enough for many around them to hear. Charlie leaned in close and whispered to Yorath.
“I’ll remind you that you are an officer in the British Army, not some loud mouthed thug. Look at them, all of them. Their morale is low enough as it is. Last thing they need is an officer inciting insubordination in their ranks. We’ll leave when we’re ordered to.”
“And when will that be?” snapped Yorath. “When there aren’t enough of us left to be what is deemed effective?”
“Don’t give me this shit. You think doing a little hard labour is tough? Try being a prisoner of those bastards!”
Yorath went quiet. He was shamed into silence by the Captain, who he knew in his heart he should support and respect.
Jones turned and walked over to the wounded man and knelt down beside him.
“You’ll be just fine.”
The man nodded in gratitude, staring at the body of his friend who had not been so lucky.
“We won’t be able to get vehicles out here for a while, and it seems any assistance in the air is too much to ask right now. My platoon will continue to scour the area for enemy combatants and devices. Yorath, you will return to base with the wounded and take some rest.”
The Lieutenant smiled at the sympathy Jones was showing them, but he could not feel any better about their situation. Rest was all very well, but they would only have to return to the same wastelands afterwards. Jones stood up and stepped towards the blast area. He stood for a moment carefully studying it.
“Look at the damage, and remember what it sounded like. That wasn’t an enemy weapon. There must be unexploded ordnance in the area. Nichols must have triggered it somehow.”
“Great, blown up by our own bombs,” replied Monty.
“You remember the battle we fought in this city. Half the time we couldn’t tell where the lines were anymore and fire was coming in all over. This won’t be the last time we get bitten by our own bombs.”
“They need to get teams over here to deal with this shit,” growled Blinker.
“Half the country is this way, so they’re gonna be spread thin. For now we must tread a little lighter. Be alert. Just because this was one of ours, it doesn’t mean the enemy haven’t planted mines and other devices.”
Jones stood and watched with sadness as the body of Nichols was whisked away, and Yorath’s platoon trundled wearily back to the work site that in that moment was their home.
“I can’t believe he made it all the way through this war only to be killed now. I saw him take a pulse to the chest and keep fighting in Ramstein. Poor bastard,” Blinker continued.
Jones lifted his weapon and gave it a quick check before turning to his unit. He could see in their faces they were tired of it all. They didn’t want to continue on their days to meet the same fate as Nichols. He did not blame them. He wanted revenge against the invaders, but it was the one thing they could not get.
“Major Taylor nearly lost his life because these buildings weren’t cleared. What happens when a family comes home to discover one of the creatures among them? They’ll get torn apart. We won this victory, let’s see it through!” yelled Jones.
It was hard to motivate fatigued veteran soldiers to continue in both a menial and dangerous task. He continually questioned their duty and responsibility to the country himself, but he was a stickler for orders.
“We’ve got work to do, let’s move out!”
Taylor peered out of the window as their craft banked to encircle the centre of Paris. There was no need to still be in the air for any reason but to gain an aerial view of the devastation and work that went on below. Many of the high-ranking officers around them gasped at the sight below. Taylor had no physical response at all.
Inside, he felt pain soar through his body. The sight of the obliterated city was a constant reminder of old wounds, injuries that had for all intensive purposes had time to recover.
“I never thought we’d make it to this day,” whispered Chandra.