Time War: Invasion (17 page)

He took a seat, but couldn't help but look back at his friends and laugh.

"Well, okay," he finally said.

They locked hands. He was firm like an anchor, but she kept a soft touch.

"On three," she said, "Three, two, one."

Her arm suddenly went rigid as he applied pressure, but he could not move her even a millimetre. He pushed and started to put his shoulder into it, but was getting nowhere but frustrated.

"Come on!" the others yelled.

He looked into her eyes, and she was cool and calm now. She slowly applied pressure against him, and he could do nothing to fight her as his arm slowly went further and further down at a slow and steady pace. He was breathing heavily and fighting her with everything he had, but she simply pushed his hand into the table with no effort at all.

The room was silenced.

"What the hell are you? Some kind of freak?" asked the defeated man. He could not believe he would have lost in a fair fight.

"If she's anything like that in the bedroom, then jeez," added another.

She could only smile in response. "You'll never find out," she remarked and stood up and embraced Lecia in her arms, ramming her tongue down her throat. It was an impassioned kiss, and the paratroopers were utterly stunned.

"This won't end well," Hotwell said in amazement.

"Get out of here, you dyke bitches. You're not welcome," said the paratrooper; still aching as much from his sore arm as his damaged pride.

He pushed the two of them, trying to usher them out the door, but Vi only took one prompt to lash out. She punched the man in the face and dropped him in one.

"Oh, fuck," said Corwin.

Six of the other paratroopers leapt to their friend’s aid and tried to take on Vi, but they had no idea what they were letting themselves in for. One swung for her, and she ducked aside, driving a punch into his groin and throwing him back over one of the tables. It buckled under his weight. Another rushed at her, but Lecia kicked him in the face, and he flew back against his comrades. One rushed at Vi, but she stepped aside and launched him towards a front window. He crashed through the glass and tumbled out into the road beside the parked vehicles.

Seconds later they heard a siren ringing from on the street, and two American Military Policemen rushed inside with truncheons in hand. They froze for a moment, seeing the two uniformed women at the centre of the fray, and a number of soldiers scattered about the floor around them.

"What the hell is going on here?" yelled one of the MPs.

Hotwell was quick to rush forward to address him.

"Our American friends here got a little frisky with our MT girls. I think they bit off a little more than they could chew," he joked, trying to cool the situation down.

"They're dykes looking to cause trouble, and they're not welcome here!" shouted one of the paratroopers.

"Shut the fuck up," replied Adcock, striding forward as the highest rank among them. He pointed to the three men who had first drawn issue with Vi.

"These boys started it, and this is on them alone."

The MP turned to Captain Hotwell for confirmation, as he was the only officer present. He nodded in agreement, and the MPs grabbed the three men and hauled them out.

"Whoever, or whatever you are, I sure wouldn't mind having you on my side when we go into action," said Adcock.

Corwin awoke on a bed he didn't recognise in a room with the same architecture as the pub they were drinking in the night before. He tried to get up but noticed his head was throbbing. A noise beside him caused him to look over. Lecia was pulling on her underwear just beside the bed. She looked at him and smiled as if to say good morning, but never actually said it.

"Where are we?" he asked, rubbing his head.

"Still at The Boar. We never left."

He slowly hauled himself out of bed and found he was naked, but he didn't care. He noticed a stinging pain running down his back and looked in a mirror on the table at the foot of the bed. Deep cuts from nails had been clawed into his back from his shoulder blades down to the small of his back.

"Really?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Got to have some fun in this life."

He found it hard to argue with that and reached for his uniform. He was soon out the door and heading downstairs and past the landlord. He felt as though he owed him money, but he had no currency of any kind.

"Thank you," is all he could give as payment.

"No, thank you," the man replied with a mock salute.

"And I am sorry for the window. I will have it sorted."

"Captain Hotwell has already arranged everything."

He nodded and carried on out to find a solitary jeep left for them.

"You've put a lot of trust in that officer, a man we really don't know at all," said Lecia as they climbed aboard.

"I know. But he even more so in us than we have in him."

He fired up the engine, and they raced off back to their new home. On arriving, they could already tell something was going on. There were lines of trucks and several platoons of troops outside the main building. Corwin rushed through and grabbed Beyett on the way to Williams’ office. He burst in and found him discussing something over a map with five other officers. He opened his mouth to speak, only to hold his tongue, realising how much he was overstepping the mark in the eyes of everyone there, except for the Colonel.

"Ah, Sergeant Corwin, I take it you have news. Please excuse us, gentlemen," said Williams to the others to save the situation.

They stepped out of the room, and Corwin shut the door behind them.

"Sergeant, while I am happy to support you in your endeavours, I cannot rightly have an NCO barrel in on my affairs."

"I understand."

"And as a result, I am giving you a field commission."

Corwin was shocked.

"I cannot very well make you a Second Lieutenant. It would not befit your age or standing. From now on, you will be a Captain in this Battalion."

"You have the power to do that?"

"You leave that to me. I'll have our tailor sort you out with the appropriate attire. Now what is it I can do for you?"

"There is an operation being planned, isn't there? Something big. A joint airborne operation with the Americans?"

Williams frowned at the news. "How do you know this?"

"Soldiers talk. They always do. Pretty clear something is going down."

Williams thought about it for a while and then nodded in agreement that he would share.

"It is no secret that our attempt to establish a front in France failed. Its failure was mitigated to the public as much as is possible, but nobody is under any illusion that we failed, and the Nazis have seized on this to begin a new drive against England, the likes of which we have not seen since 1940. But with the Russians out of this fight, attention is once more being turned our way. The threat of invasion is a very real one, but that is not our concern at this moment," he said and pointed to a town north of Paris.

"Creil. We have reliable intelligence reports that this is the site of a new super weapon believed to be codenamed V4. Initial reports suggest this weapon has the potential to launch barrages of missiles that could destroy military or civilian targets in such abundance and brutality that we could never have envisaged."

"V4?" Beyett asked; he sounded surprised.

"Yes, what do you know of it?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," he said, looking horrified. He glanced at Corwin, knowing Villiers had to be involved in some way.

He was very interested in Beyett’s reaction.

"You tried hitting it from the air yet?"

"I've been informed that bomber command has been trying to hit the facility every night for the last ten days. US Air Force has been taking turns as well, but they're meeting increasing levels of resistance, and the structure seems buried well below the surface, where conventional bombs just aren't able to get the job done. I am told new weapons are being developed, but they simply aren't ready. Therefore a ground mission is being organised. So what do you say?"

"You want us in on this?"

"I'm asking you to volunteer, yes. I will not order you into this mission for I know you have your own orders. But intelligence gathering, sabotage and espionage, those are your specialties, and you might well get an insight into your target’s work. What was his name again?"

"Villiers."

"Yes, like the engines. I shall not forget a second time."

"Could you give me a few moments, Colonel?"

"Of course."

He led Beyett over to a corner of the room, leaning in closely to talk in private.

"This might be some work of Villiers, but is us getting involved a good thing?"

"I don't know if it will help us get any closer to Villiers, but I do know we need to do everything we can to help the Allies, and we need to build their trust so that we can rely on them when the time comes."

Corwin nodded. "Okay."

They went back to the table and studied the map before them.

"We're in."

"My preference would be for a large scale operation, but while we might be able to get the numbers in, we have little way of getting them back out again. This assault will have to use a bomber attack as a screen, and must involve as few aircraft as possible. I intend to land four C47s here," he said, pointing to a perfectly smooth and flat field just a few klicks from the facility.

"How many men is that?"

"One hundred and twelve."

"And what sort of resistance to you expect?"

"Modest. The Nazis have become arrogant of late. They think they can't be touched. I intend to show them otherwise."

"You will be taking part in this personally?"

"I would not ask any man to undergo a mission I would not do so myself."

"And the 82nd, how are they involved?"

"This is not the only facility of its kind. We are part of a far larger operation, the scale of which is being kept even from myself. Allied commanders are afraid of leaks, and rightly so. The Dieppe landings were compromised in so many ways from the very beginning."

"So when do we go?"

"If the weather allows for it, in three days. Just know this. Once we get over France, we are what Hitler has called Clandestine forces, and there is a shoot to kill order on us all."

"It's nothing new to us," replied Corwin confidently, "I'll need some time to get my team together, and I'll need access to weapons and equipment. We can help you more than you realise, but we need to assemble our gear and do things our way."

"I'll make sure you have all that you require, providing I have your word that this operation stays strictly between us and your team."

"Of course, Sir."

"I will have someone along soon to help arrange your gear. Anything else you need, you let me know. It'll be an honour to have you with us on this one...Captain."

Corwin smiled. It had a nice ring to it. He'd never considered the possibility of being an officer, and yet it came at the most unlikely of time and place. They stepped out of the office and headed for their operations room.

"You, a Captain in the British Army?"

"Just when you thought things couldn't get any stranger, right, Beyett?"

He stepped into the former billiards room to find only Hotwell and his team of analysts were doing any work. The rest lounged about uneasily awaiting some action. Porter had his feet up on the table and was puffing away on a pipe he had liberated from god knows where. As he stepped into the room, they could all see the hope in his face and knew there was some news.

"We finally got a job to do?" Porter asked; the pipe still clenched in his teeth.

"Yeah, it’s dangerous, with little support, and no backup plan."

"What's the bad news?"

"That we have to wait three days."

Several sighed in despair; they were anxious to do something and make some progress.
 
He began outlining the operational details, but a few minutes later there was a knock at the door, and he moved to open it himself. He pulled it ajar to find a slightly portly and older Sergeant Major. He had a rigid and proud posture and held his chin high as to show off his grey moustache.

“Sergeant Major Wadd reporting for duty, Sir."

“What can I do for you, Sergeant?”

“It is what I can do for you, Sir. The Colonel has asked me to ensure you get everything you need.”

Corwin smiled and turned around to his squad. They were more than a little curious.

“Time to up gun.”

“Now you’re talking,” said Porter, finally putting his feet down and getting up with some enthusiasm.

Twenty minutes later they found themselves in an ordnance hangar with rack after rack of rifles, machine guns, and other assorted weapons. Vi stood in the open shaking her head at how antiquated it all was compared to what she was used to.

“This stuff is crap.”

“For once you’ll have to rely on something other than gadgets,” said Harland.

“Hey, whatever does the job best,” she snapped back.

"We'll just have to manage with what we can get," added Corwin turned to Hotwell.

"All our gear that was taken off us in France and beyond, can you get it?"

"It's already on its way."

They stepped forward to a table with a selection of equipment. The Sergeant Major first picked up a rifle with all wooden furniture.

“The staple of the British Army,” he stated with pride as he racked he bolt action mechanism.

“Single shot?” Vi asked in amazement.

“Powerful, reliable, dependable. The well trained soldier can kill a man at five hundred yards with this fine weapon.”

Corwin was shaking his head. “Need more firepower.”

“I’ll take a look,” said Lecia.

She reached out for the weapon, but the Sergeant Major looked uneasy handing it over to a woman.

“Have you handled a rifle before, Miss?”

“One or two,” she replied sarcastically, snatching it from his grasp.

“Sten gun,” said Wadd, “Lightweight, easy to carry and use. It has a high rate of fire and is simple to maintain and operate; excellent in close quarters combat. Also available with integrated suppressor, which greatly reduces noise.”

Corwin still looked unimpressed, though Frasi stepped up and took the silenced variant as the others went on. Corwin couldn’t take his eye off a magazine fed light machine gun. The banana shaped magazine arose out of the top of the receiver to make a rather strange but oddly appealing design. He reached forward and picked it up off the table as if it weighed nothing more than a carbine. Wadd looked a little surprised but went along with it.

"The Bren light machine gun. Utilising the same potent .303 round of the Enfield rifle, the Bren is highly accurate and reliable, with sustained fire capability."

Wadd pointed over to a large open door to the side of the building that gave access to an open range. Corwin pulled out the magazine, reached for a fully loaded one on the table, and then walked over to the range.

"The Bren can be fired from the hip position to provide suppressing fire on the move, but is best suited to use in a prone position, where its bipod can provide a stable shooting platform," said Wadd.