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 B-52’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 B-52’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 B-52 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 B-52’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 B-52 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 B-52’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 B-52’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 B-52’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 choppa 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.