Strike Force Black

by C T Glatte

He slid into the ditch and the five Fallschirmjägers followed suit and spread out. Two men held Panzerfausts. “Get the Panzerfausts to either flank.” The men nodded and spread to the ends of the line.

  Private Heinz joined them and between breaths said, “I alerted the AA crews. They’re ready.”

  “Good. They’re our best chance to knock the armor out, along with the Panzerfausts, but we only have two of those. Let ‘em get close. Fire on my command.”

  The men hunkered and soon all they heard was the unmistakable sound of revving engines and heavy tracks tearing up ground. The mortar fire stopped and there was a smattering of fire from the road. Ricker wondered if this was a two-pronged attack. If it was, he and his small crew would be badly exposed.

  He lifted his head and saw three armored halftracks and two Jeeps coming straight at them. He looked right and got the attention of his Panzerfaust trooper, who was hunched, ready to go to his knees and fire. He assumed the other soldier would also be looking. Ricker held up his hand slowly. He noticed enemy soldiers on foot, trying to keep up, but the initial targets were the armor.

  When they were thirty meters away, he dropped his hand. He watched Private Schmidt rise up onto a knee. He aimed the unwieldy weapon and depressed the top bar. The armor piercing grenade shot out and arced into the grill of the nearest halftrack and exploded. The vehicle slewed hard left and nearly flipped over, sending GIs sprawling out the back and over the side.

  The second grenade shot out and slammed into the ground beside another tracked vehicle and sprayed the armor with dirt and shrapnel. The halftrack continued forward, the .50 caliber machine gun poking from the top fired a long burst and before the paratrooper could take cover, was nearly cut in half by the massive shells.

  Ricker pushed forward and fired his MP-40 at the nearest Jeep. His bullets sparked and ricocheted off the metal and the driver pulled right slightly and gunned the engine, kicking up dirt behind the knobby tires. The gunner holding onto the .30 caliber machine gun handles nearly fell out the back but managed to stay in. He aimed and fired, but the bouncing Jeep threw his aim off and bullets sprayed everywhere.

  Two paratroopers hurled stick grenades and Ricker saw them explode, knocking foot soldiers to the ground. He fired the rest of his thirty-round magazine, then dove as the .50 caliber gunner swept his position. He felt the heat of the heavy bullets passing close and he nearly lost control of his bowels. He admonished himself thinking what a disgrace that would be for his brothers to see.

  He rolled right until he came up alongside another paratrooper. He was firing a Mauser rifle and Ricker recognized his radioman. “Raise the AA gunners. Tell them to engage!”

  As if in answer the heavy 20mm AA guns opened fire. Ricker knew the heavy shells were firing just over their heads, probably the reason they hadn’t fired yet. He yelled at the top of his lungs, “Stay down!” No one needed coaxing the sizzle of the passing shells close enough touch.

  The effect was devastating. Even from the bottom of the ditch, Ricker heard the terrible crash the shells made as they impacted the thin metal of the halftracks and jeeps. There was an explosion that shook the ground only meters away and Ricker imagined either a gas tank or ammunition blowing up. The heat washed over his back and he tried to dig into the hard ground.

  Something landed on his back. He had the distinct feeling it was a person. It rolled off his right side and he kicked at it like it was infected with the plague. In the dim, early morning light, he saw the dull olive drab of an enemy soldier. He lunged, pulling the knife from the sheath at the same time. He sank the blade into the soldier’s back. There was no reaction. The sickening feel of blood seeping over his hand nearly made him gag. He pushed the soldier and he rolled onto his back. There was a gaping, smoking hole in his chest. He was already dead, his eyes staring and lifeless.

  The firing from the AA guns stopped and Ricker pushed himself up slightly and looked over the edge. The scene stunned him. The field was littered with bodies and smoking, burning vehicles. One of the halftracks was on its side. He could see legs and torsos of soldiers sticking from beneath the armor and he hoped they’d been dead before their bodies were crushed, but from some of their facial expressions, he doubted it.

  He had his weapon up and ready but he couldn’t see anyone alive. The sun’s rays hit his back and he looked east. There were clouds making the sunrise a beautiful shade of orange. The smell of blood, burning flesh and burnt gunpowder mixed and he thought the colors in the sunrise would never look the same. They’d always remind him of this day’s carnage and death.

  More paratroopers got to their knees, their stunned expressions telling him they were as surprised to be alive as he was. He exchanged a glance with Corporal Hinkler. Ricker noticed not everyone was getting up. He walked along the ditch and came across Private Heinz. At first, he thought he was still taking cover. He was balanced and curled into a tight ball but when Ricker touched his shoulder, he toppled over and his face was gray. There was a large pool of sticky blood stringing from the ground to his belly, mixed with the pale gray of intestines. Ricker stared unable to turn away.

  Someone yelled and he tore himself from the grisly scene. “Here they come! Here comes the armor.” At first, he thought it another attack, but the voice was excited, not fearful.

  He turned toward the sea and in the morning light saw large, specially designed LSTs disgorging huge tanks. They hit the ground running and were soon tearing up the asphalt as they churned toward their positions. Ricker no longer cared whether his brothers would be proud of him or not. He only felt the heavy burden of the dead paratrooper at his feet. The question played over and over in his head, what could I have done differently?

  An hour later the tanks were dug into pits, with only their long barrels visible. Along with the armor, a full complement of AA guns were arrayed around the airfield, turning it into a deathtrap for any enemy aircraft venturing into their defensive zone.

  Soon after, Stuka dive bombers and fighters with yellow and red painted cowlings landed and were quickly stowed in undamaged bunkers. Engineers driving huge tractors darted here and there repairing tarmac and filling in bomb craters. Within two hours, Idlewild Airport, once a hub of air-traffic for New York City, became a formidable armed German camp.

  Ricker smoked a cigarette and watched the airplanes landing in quick succession. They were the mission. Getting aircraft onto the mainland quickly would allow more room on the super-carriers for aircraft shuttling over from England and would keep the Americans from achieving air-superiority once they recovered from the initial blow.

  Major Spitz found him and hunched down beside him. Ricker offered him a cigarette and he lit it and took a long drag. “Your men did well today, Lieutenant.”

  Ricker nodded and said, “Thank you, sir. They’re good men. The best.”

  Spitz nodded his agreement. “This is only the beginning of course, but it’s a good start. We’ll be a target for a while until our infantry in the South push through. We can expect constant attacks, but we have the might of the fleet at our backs. It’s imperative we hold this airfield.” He watched a Stuka land softly and taxi off the tarmac. He took another drag and blew it out his nose. “Need anything, Lieutenant?”

  Ricker pointed at the remaining buildings of the city. “Can we level those, sir? We get a lot of sniper fire from them, keeps the men jumpy.”

  Spitz nodded and squinted. “The naval artillery boys have been itching to do just that, but there’s still too many other targets. I’ll pass along your concerns though, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Major Spitz stood and hustled away to the next slit trench. Sergeant Hoch emerged and approached. “What’d the major have to say, sir?”

  He shrugged, “Just letting us know, now we’ve taken the airfield we’ve got a huge target on our chests.”

  Hoch grinned and spit. “No shit, sir.”

  18

  MaryAnn sat on the floor of a bare, white padded room. She was n
aked and despite the pleasant temperature, she shivered uncontrollably. She rocked back and forth slightly, her arms draped over her pulled up knees. Despite the lack of windows, she had the distinct feeling she was being observed. She supposed by the alien Korth. She’d seen a number of them since being captured, but the sight still repulsed and terrified her and she was glad she couldn’t see them gawking.

  As though reading her mind, a door appeared in the wall, and in stepped four humans dressed head-to-toe in white frocks. She couldn’t see anything except their eyes. She guessed, by the tight skull caps, they’d had their head’s shaved, but despite the lack of features she could tell they were females.

  Between them they pushed a slab of thick, chrome metal. It floated between them and they guided it forward. MaryAnn got to her feet and slunk away into the farthest corner. The four humans placed the floating table in the center of the room and pushed it down until it was only a few feet off the ground.

  MaryAnn looked at the open door behind and the thought of escape flashed through her mind. As if in response, a thin blue arc lanced out and before MaryAnn could react, touched her. She felt her body stiffen and no matter what she did, she couldn’t make her body move. The feeling terrified her and she started to hyperventilate. She felt herself being lifted and pulled toward the table, floating. Her eyes were wide, but she found she still had control over them. She glanced sideways as much as she could, hoping to catch a glance of the humans. Perhaps they’d take pity on her and help her, but they kept their eyes down, not daring to return her gaze.

  Once beside the table, she felt her body being tilted backwards, as though she were being rotated on a stiff board. Her mind screamed at her, the sensation so foreign and unnerving, she thought she might wet herself. When she was flat she stared at the white ceiling and felt herself sliding over the top of the metal table, then lowered until she felt tiny pinpricks against her back.

  The blue arc, which held her, disappeared and was replaced with hundreds of much smaller arcs. Each, felt like a tiny piece of pressure. It wasn’t a bad feeling and soon she realized she was very comfortable, as though lying on the most perfect form-fitting bed ever devised. She relaxed slightly until her mind woke and screamed, ‘this is what they want you to feel…to relax you.’ With a great force of will, she tensed her muscles, flexing and feeling each limb. She was still ‘strapped’ down, but the feeling of helplessness wasn’t as intense.

  She felt the four women move to each corner and slowly walk forward, pushing the table along smoothly. She concentrated on the backs of the two women’s heads she could see. They never glanced back, just kept perfect cadence and posture.

  Once out the door, she entered a much larger room. The ceiling was covered in glowing tubes and odd disk like structures, which spun and emitted blue light, similar to the arc she’d been frozen with.

  She studied the ceiling hoping to see something which might help her escape or at least resist. The thought of suicide crossed her mind, it might be better to die than to suffer whatever the Korth had in mind for her. But she was helpless and couldn’t move. She shunned the thought to the far reaches of her mind, but didn’t discount it wholly.

  She felt a presence enter the room and the four women noiselessly scattered. MaryAnn’s skin crawled as she heard the clicking and humming and the alien words translated in her mind. “Hello again, MaryAnn Larkin.” MaryAnn felt something loosen and realized she could talk if she wanted to. She didn’t respond, just continued to stare at the ceiling. The clicking and humming continued. “My name is Cinter. I am interested in helping you. Would you like me to help you?”

  MaryAnn considered staying silent, perhaps they’d think her mute and do away with her quickly. But instead she spoke, “You can help me by letting me go.”

  An odd higher pitched humming, which the translator didn’t translate. MaryAnn realized she must be hearing the Korth laugh. If they laugh, perhaps they have empathy, she thought hopefully.

  The clicks changed and MaryAnn listened to Cinter speak. “I and the other TRs see great promise in your species. We have tried on many occasions to unlock, or unleash, that potential but every attempt has ended in failure. That’s not to say the process wasn’t successful, but the final result was not what we intended.” MaryAnn heard a tapping on the floor as though from an eagle’s talon. She realized in disgust she must be hearing the tapping of the Korth’s feet as it paced on her right side. She tried to move her eyes to better see the Korth but she could only see the top of the thing’s head. It was smooth, shiny and reminded her of snake skin.

  Cinter stopped walking and the tapping stopped. The metal slab lowered, allowing MaryAnn to see the Korth’s upper torso and face. She couldn’t move but her body repulsed at the sight of the mandibles and black eyes. Cinter continued, “Indeed we’ve had some promising candidates. The last one, a soldier from your Army, made it through the unleashing process and nearly came out unscathed, but in the end, his mind wasn’t deep enough and he fell into insanity, just like all the others that made it that far.”

  MaryAnn cringed at the prospect of whatever this ‘unleashing’ entailed. She had no doubt she was the next Guinea Pig, the next to go insane. She asked, “What do you do with these ‘candidates,’ as you call them, once you’re done with them?”

  Cinter answered quickly, “We exterminate them, of course. They become dangers to themselves and everyone around them.”

  “You should just kill me now. I don’t want to be unleashed.” She tried to stay strong, but there was a quavering in her voice.

  Cinter paused and her unblinking eyes stared. MaryAnn held their gaze. Finally Cinter replied, “A successful unleashing will make you something outstanding. Something your species may never achieve. Your brains are destined to become unleashed, the base is there, but only if you don’t destroy one another first.

  “Most species have already achieved it, or if they haven’t, are extinct. Yours is the first we’ve come across who have existed this long without it happening. The long span of time has made your brains highly attune to being unleashed, but instead you’re overwhelmed by the desire for procreation.”

  MaryAnn didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to hear and feel the disgusting being talk, but she couldn’t help herself. “Wh — why are you telling me this? Why not just do it and when it fails and I go insane, kill me?”

  “I’m telling you because knowing what I’m trying to achieve might help your brain accept it better. It is my hope. Your brain is by far the deepest I’ve come across. I want this to work. I want to free you from your leashed mind, MaryAnn Larkin.”

  “Even if it kills me?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Why though? Why would you care to unleash me or any other human? You’ve brought war to my country. You and those that follow you are my enemy. We’re at war, so why help me as you call it?”

  “I’m a scientist.” MaryAnn saw the Korth’s head deflate slightly and pinkish hue changed to a drab brown. “Now, hold still and accept what is happening to you. The more strength you save the better the outcome.”

  MaryAnn felt the metal slab rising and soon she couldn’t see Cinter anymore. She shut her eyes and tried to prepare herself for whatever was about to happen. Her eyes flashed open when the most intense pain she’d ever experienced coursed through her rigid body.

  MaryAnn lost all track of time. Her world was one of intense and constant pain. She felt as though her entire life consisted only of pain. There’d never been a happy home in a small town in Oregon. Never been a time she awoke to the smell of fresh baked bread and felt the warmth from the old wood stove on a cold winter morning. Never been a loving mother and father and good friends. Her entire world was now.

  The pain sent her into a new space, a dark and deep space she never knew existed. She could still feel the pain nibbling at the edges but she’d entered a segment of her mind which buffered the pain and protected her from it. It became like an annoying, barking dog.
She could hear it but it was in another backyard locked in a kennel where it couldn’t bite her.

  She moved through the space and with each new step the depth increased until she felt herself walking through an endless and massive space without borders or end. And then she was floating. She spread her arms and soared. The feeling of flight a thousand times better than anything she’d ever felt. The darkness lightened and she saw a pinprick of light, like a tiny tear in the expanse of nothingness. She angled for it with a tiny twitch of thought and moved toward the beam of light.

  There was no airflow, but the feeling of moving through space was real and she knew she was getting closer with every second. She shook her head, not seconds, for there was no time…only space.

  The shaft of light held weight, she floated beside it, knowing if she reached for it she’d feel the weight. She looked at its source, the tear hadn’t expanded. She followed its cylindrical path, it kept going into infinity. In her head a voice implored, ‘touch the light.’ She looked around not knowing where the voice came from but recognizing it somehow, from somewhere long before, like a memory of birth. This is death, she thought.

  The voice again, ‘no. This is life.’

  MaryAnn allowed herself to descend into the beam of light and when it touched her she marveled as her skin tingled and sparkled. The feeling was wholly new and her sense of timelessness disappeared and she was flying along the cylinder’s path, back toward the hole. The feeling of speed as colors and shapes flashed by was surreal, but she felt no fear. The barking dog in the kennel was gone. There was no pain, nor a memory of pain. Her body felt as though it were made of pure light.

  She rolled and darted through the hole, feeling the edges ripple as she passed. She looked back and the vastness of space closed like a door to another dimension, one she knew she could find simply by thinking of it.

  She stopped and floated, looking down on the vessel which was her body. It’s nakedness held fast with beams of energy, whose molecular structure scrolled past her mind like an afterthought.