by Luke Duffy
Bobby said nothing but continued to watch the militia guards through his binoculars for a considerable length of time. He memorised every detail of them that he was able to see from that distance and watched how they contentedly returned to their posts in the guardroom once the emergency was declared as being over. He grunted and nodded to himself.
“You okay, Bobby?”
“Fine and fucking dandy, mate,” he replied with a nod and a grimace that conveyed his disgust.
That afternoon the six remaining members of the team were called into headquarters to be given a set of preliminary orders on what their upcoming tasks would be during the counter offensive and from there, the team would build their own execution and concept of operations on the way they would conduct their mission. They all knew full well that in one way or another they would be leading the spearhead for the entire campaign but their exact role could only be speculated.
“You know we’ll be in the thick of the shit when it kicks off,” Taff grunted sourly as he sat down beside Stan and began sipping at his coffee.
Stan blew out a long sigh in agreement. They were always in the thick of it so Taff’s predictions were not exactly enlightening to him.
“You hoping for a cushy number, Taff?”
Before the Welshman could answer, the door opened and a long lean figure sauntered into the room. They recognised the man instantly even though his face was cast in shadow beyond the area that was illuminated by the bright spotlights set into the ceiling.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” General Thompson greeted them in his deep gruff voice as he strode across the briefing room.
His long legs covered the distance in a fraction of the number of steps that it would have taken a man of average height. He looked up at Stan and along the line of his men seated in a row and waiting for the briefing to begin.
“Are you and your boys up to this, Stan?” The General asked with a wry smile. “I know we managed to break a few of you recently.”
There was nothing malicious in his words and he had already expressed his deepest and sincerest sympathies for the losses the team had sustained. He knew each of them personally and had the utmost respect for each and every one of them. It was a friendly taunt that Stan was not going to allow himself to be sucked into. General Thompson was a tough man but he was well aware that the team were tougher still and there was very little that could pose a serious obstacle to them.
“Just a few cuts and bruises, sir,” Stan replied flatly. “Far from broken.”
Thompson placed his hands on his hips and nodded to the men with approval. He was proud of the team and relied heavily on their skill and capabilities.
“Good to hear it. I’m well aware of the hardships you have faced and the losses you incurred, but I wouldn’t send you back out there if I didn’t need to, Stan.”
Thompson nodded to a figure standing close to the door and the lights were dimmed. On the wall behind him, a large map of the United Kingdom was illuminated and a number of symbols of various shapes and colours, denoting troops and assets, were overlaid onto it from a projector stationed above their heads. For the next two hours, they were informed of the general plan to reclaim the United Kingdom.
London was the main objective for Group-South, which included the forces stationed on the Isle of Wight, Guernsey, and Jersey. Liverpool was to be taken by Group-West operating from the Isle of Man and Glasgow was to be cleared and secured by Group-North who were occupying the islands off the west coast of Scotland, namely Jura and Islay. Both cities in the north had deep-water ports and could be used as jumping off points for further operations once they were cleared and secured.
There were other units already on the mainland within the numerous fortresses’ that had been built at the beginning of the outbreak. These strongholds would act as Forward Operating Bases for support, intelligence gathering, and further offensives once the primary objectives had been secured. Although many of the hastily erected outposts had been overwhelmed during the rapid spread of the plague, there were still enough of them dotted around the country to allow the creation of a network of safe enclaves to facilitate forward command and control, as well as resupply and reinforcement.
Stan and his men watched with interest as the ‘Prince of Darkness’ pointed to the various cities and then the supporting FOBs. In theory, the operation was pretty straightforward. Although there were multiple objectives and large numbers of troops to support, the primary goals were feasible.
The General then moved onto the next heading in the orders’ process and began describing the situation of enemy and friendly forces.
There was very little to tell in the way of the enemy. The cities were swarming with the dead and in London alone, their numbers were estimated to be upwards of three-million. Biologically nothing had changed in the make-up of the infected or the virus itself. They were still easily despatched in small groups but it was their numbers and instinctive inability to retreat that posed the biggest threat to the offensive. The scale of the opposing forces caused a few members of the team to raise an eyebrow or two.
“We mustn’t allow their numbers to be a deciding factor in this operation. Their size counts for nothing. They’re dumb and very predictable. We need to take advantage of their weaknesses and utilise bottle-necks and choke-points when selecting our battle ground,” Thompson stated before moving onto the next heading.
The situation with friendly forces was a different matter. Since the military were ordered to withdraw from Korea and the Middle East, very few of them had made it back to home waters. They had arrived in small groups or as stragglers, bloodied and battered after suffering heavy casualties in the counter attacks that had been launched against them by Iranian and North Korean forces during their extraction. It was estimated that less than a fifth of the British military had survived.
Three aircraft carriers and all of the nuclear submarines had been destroyed. The Royal Air Force, having lost huge numbers while supporting the retreat, were down to a glimmer of their former glory and spread very thinly on the ground, and many of the ground forces had either been killed in battle or consumed by the dead before making it to the extraction points from their respective operational theatres.
Rumours were rife that the Russians had been involved in the sinking of a number of Royal Navy ships and troop transports during their journey home, but these suspicions were never confirmed. Large numbers of aircraft that were carrying much needed men and material had strangely disappeared from the radar screens, never to be seen again. Threats had been swapped between the eastern and western governments over the suspected attacks but they were soon forgotten as the catastrophe grew in scale. Soon they had a much larger threat on their hands and what mattered was that every soldier, sailor, and airman was needed for the coming fight and every serviceable piece of equipment, vehicle, and craft was thrown against the enemy.
The military was short on manpower and resources. As a result, a number of high ranking officers and politicians were leading the charge on recommending the use of nuclear weapons. Colonel Gibson, the commander of Group-North, had been voicing this opinion from very early on in the planning stage of the campaign. Slowly but surely, he had rallied support from other commanders and a degree of infighting had erupted within MJOC, Mainland Joint Operations Command, controlling the various elements of the army, navy, and air force.
At that moment, the control of Britain’s nuclear arsenal still rested in the hands of the government and commanders stationed on the Isle of Wight. A limited amount of tactical missiles were in the possession of Group-North but these were smaller weapons that were dropped from aircraft and Gibson did not have the quantities needed to have any real impact on enemy numbers. It was the heavy yield missiles, still sitting in their silos on the mainland, which Gibson was wanting to launch but luckily, he did not have the access codes or knowledge of their locations.
Opinion was split and the new Prime Minister, with the backing of
his senior military advisors, recommended that the offensive begin at the soonest opportunity once the preparations were completed. It was widely believed that any further delay to the invasion would cause the delicate cooperation of the disagreeing factions to fragment and the operation to fail.
To add to the deteriorating political situation there was also the humanitarian factor. Thousands were dying within the refugee camps. Disease, hunger, and the outbreaks of the plague were taking their toll on the civilian population. Already on minimal rations that were barely enough to sustain them, the refugees were once again being told that their food supply would be cut by a further fifty percent in order to provide for the large numbers of troops being used in the coming battle. Riots were common and murder had become a regular part of day to day life within the camps.
“The sooner we can get the civilians back into the towns and the cities, the better,” General Thompson declared. “That is our main objective here. Taking back the capital will be symbolic to the refugees and will prove to them that we are not beaten. Our population is dying a slow and inhumane death on these islands while the infected own the mainland. If we delay any longer then there won’t be anyone left to resettle.”
Everyone was in agreement. Only that morning Bobby and Danny had witnessed first-hand how desperate the situation was within the camps.
After Thompson had finished briefing them on the strategic goals, the team were left to begin their own tactical planning. The General had informed them that they would be inserted into the city of London and that their job was to mark targets of densely packed infected for the bombing runs being conducted by the RAF. The air-strikes were intended to decimate the enemy numbers and ease the pressure on the ground troops as they began sweeping through and securing the urban areas.
“You won’t be alone on this one, Stan,” Thompson informed them. “We have some of the boys from Hereford who will be inserting into other parts of the city along with the Pathfinder Platoon from Sixteen Air Assault Brigade.”
“How do we get large numbers of the infected into the same place?” Stan asked, hoping that the general was not expecting the team to use themselves as bait.
“Gerry will give you a heads up on that one, Stan. He’ll go through the Concept of Operations and the Service and Support elements,” Thompson replied and nodded towards the Operations Officer who was standing to one side. “Good luck gentlemen and if there’s anything you need, just let us know.”
General Thompson left the room and handed over to Gerry. There was someone else with him and as they stepped forward from the shadows, Stan recognised the man, even without the grime covering his face or the terror in his eyes.
“I believe you have already met,” Gerry said to the team as he gestured towards Dr. Joseph Warren.
The doctor nodded to the men and smiled briefly.
“I never got the chance to properly thank you all,” Doctor Warren said with a hint of shame and regret in his voice. “I’m afraid that for the moment you will just have to content yourselves with my humble words until this is all over and I can find a more fitting way to convey my appreciation to you. I truly am grateful for all that you did for me in Africa and I am sorry for the loss of your friend. I have been told that Nick was a great man and I regret that I will never be able to express my gratitude for the sacrifice he made.”
The team said nothing but nodded their acceptance and appreciation of the doctor’s words. Nick’s loss was still felt amongst the men, as was Brian’s, but they did not dwell on their deaths. They could not afford to.
Doctor Warren stepped back and allowed Gerry to continue until he was needed again. Later in the briefing he would be called forward to answer questions but for now, he would remain in the shadows.
Before Group-South could begin their assault on London, the Portsmouth Ferry Terminal needed to be cleared and secured in order to bring in troops, equipment, and vehicles. This would open up a line of resupply between the Isle of Wight and the mainland. Eventually, the civilians would travel along this protected corridor when they began the reoccupation of the land in the south.
While the beachhead was being created, the few remaining transport helicopters that the military had left would be sent in to drop troops into the airfield at Farnborough. Their job was to secure the area and hold it while the ground forces pushed up from the harbour in the south. With the airfield in friendly hands, the helicopters would then be able to refuel and provide support for the men on the ground.
Ammunition stocks were not an issue but aviation fuel was. Ferrying troops into London all the way from the island, one load at a time, would not be viable and the advance would quickly lose its momentum as the helicopters’ tanks ran dry. So it was imperative that the airfield was taken and secured.
Instead of a single direct overhead assault on the capital, the bulk of the ground forces would be going in by vehicle via the harbour at Portsmouth initially and then thrusting northwards from the coast with the air force giving limited close air support in the form of bombing and strafing missions.
At the same time, once the assets and troops at the airfield were consolidated and strong enough in numbers they would begin the advance on London. With the Chinooks refuelled, the forward elements would be flown in to make the initial break-in while the remainder followed on in vehicles. Making their break-in from the outskirts in the south-west of the city, the ground forces would push forward, block by block, until the southern side of the River Thames was secured. All the while, the Royal Air Force would be overhead and clearing their path.
The CH-47s would run resupply and reinforcement missions into the parts of the front that were struggling to force their way through or looked as though they would be overwhelmed and forced to retreat. The plan was not dissimilar to conventional operations from the past. The principles were still very much based along the lines of the ‘assault, supress, reserve’ doctrine, using assets from land, sea and air.
“So what you’re saying is, that we’re re-enacting ‘A Bridge Too Far’ but the Germans have been replaced with dead people?” Bull asked.
“The concept is not dissimilar,” Gerry replied with reflection.
Stan leaned back and shook his head.
“Seems like a lot to do with just twenty-thousand troops, Gerry. Holding the harbour and airfield, and keeping the supply corridor open is going to take up most of our manpower. Then there’s the casualties and reinforcements issue. How can you do all that with just a handful of soldiers?”
Gerry looked back at him. He had been waiting for the question but still felt uncomfortable giving the answer.
“Civilian militia,” he replied. “We have around fifty-thousand of them supporting us as auxiliary troops.”
Stan said nothing. He understood that every able-bodied person needed to join the fight but he did not like the idea of the success of the offensive hinging on the performance and ability of untrained refugees.
“They’re quite keen, I assure you,” Gerry continued, unconvincingly.
“They’re quite keen?” Bull replied with sarcasm. “Oh, thank fuck for that. Now that you put it that way, Gerry, I feel loads better about the whole thing,”
“They will only be used to protect the supply lines and to plug any gaps that form at the front. We have armed them and training has been going on for quite some time now. They’re not exactly elite troops but we’re not up against a conventional enemy either.”
With the general concept of operations covered by Gerry, Stan and his men were advised on their own task.
London would be split into ‘assault lanes’ and it was their job to guide in the RAF on their bombing missions along the separate corridors. Along with Stan and his men, teams from the SAS and Pathfinders would be operating in their own individual assault lanes and calling in the air assets on separate targets while giving up to date situation reports to the command element of MJOC.
Their mission was to form the infected into dense
clusters and mark them with lasers for the pilots to identify. In this way, huge numbers would be dispatched with minimal ordinance and casualties. In theory, and providing that all went according to plan, the ground troops would be conducting a simple mopping-up exercise.
“You will be inserted a few days before the attack begins. That’s seven days from now and should give you ample time to get things ready. Weapons, ammunition, equipment, and anything you need will be supplied as best as possible. Just let me know once you’ve come up with a plan and I will see to it that you get the full support of operations staff and the Quarter Master.”
Stan nodded over to Taff. As the second in command of the team it was his responsibility to oversee the administration and ensure that all their equipment was up to the task.
“Knock up a list and get it over to those blanket stackers once you’re happy, Taff. We have plenty of ammo but the more the merrier on this one.”
“No worries. I suggest taking those S-Mines along on this one, Stan.”
“Yeah,” Stan replied as he remembered the cache that Marty and the others had found on the mainland. “Any doubts with them though, ditch them in the sea. I don’t fancy one of us being fragged through faulty kit.”
“Uh, I have a question,” Bull spoke as Gerry finished rounding off their mission. “Two questions actually.”
“Go on,” Gerry nodded. He believed he knew full well what the questions were going to be but he could never be sure, when it came to dealing with Bull.
Bull looked around at the others to make sure that he was not jumping the gun and that his timing to ask was right. They all looked back at him expectantly. Like Gerry, they could not be sure of what was about to come from his mouth.
“How do we get there? Going on foot will take forever and if the head-shed can’t spare the helicopters and fuel, what you got in mind? Secondly, as Stan has already asked, how do we get those things to form large groups?”
