Aftermath: The Complete Collection (Books 1 & 2)

by John Wilkinson

  Little D just nodded his understanding, but said nothing. He just closed his eyes and went to sleep. I think he knows what Welsh is about, he has him pegged, we all have him pegged. He’s not really the kind of sergeant we want as we approach this pivotal moment, he seems to have a different agenda than the rest of us. I’m not sure if there is any point speaking to the generals about this, they’re clearly happy with his results, irrespective of how he achieves them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  1/1/2028 - Time 21:20

  I didn’t managed to get to sleep in the Viking, as we travelled through a large snow storm, that battered the vehicle with strong winds and hailstones the size of golf balls. During this time, I wrote up the details of ‘Operation Cannon Fodder’ at Higherford Mill, as the weather moved through a thousand variations. As we past Blackburn South, a radio message came through, that made everyone sit up to attention.

  ‘Spotter ID three, three, six. An offensive has been launched from Torriero’s camp, hundreds of vehicles heading towards the M621. Over and out.’

  There followed a ten minute period, as the report was verified, and some of our spotters were quickly given new positions to take up. We all sat on the edge of our seats, listening as the army’s response took shape. It was thought around two hundred vehicles had left Leeds, we could roughly estimate up to four people per car, meaning there could be as many as eight hundred fighters on their way to Camp Blue. Latest reports placed the convoy passing Rochdale, following the M62 towards Manchester. The generals responded quickly by sending out two battalions, The Lancashire Fusiliers, Seventh and Ninth Battalions, believing they’d have the best understanding of the area. We were a member of the Seventh Battalion, comprising eight Lancashire based companies, and roughly four hundred soldiers. The Tangerine Company, The Riversiders Company, The Cod Army Company, The Latics Company, The Clarets Company, The Stanley Company, The Shrimps Company and Blue and White Company. But we were still seven miles from the rendezvous point, junction two on the M65 where the M61 joins the motorway, and in the middle of a snow storm. But if we were dealing with this weather, Torriero’s route must be travelling through the same storm, and we had a head start. The snow was sticking to everything it touched, making it hard to navigate, any obstacles in the road just blended into the white. The heavy snow stopped for a while, as the winds blew across the carriageway, creating further visual problems. The huge concrete structure carrying the M61 came into view through the snow ahead, we headed up the slip road on the left, to the large roundabout at the top, following vehicle lights. There we could see a blockade, covering the entire width of the carriageway, both sides, with busy soldiers running around organising the vehicles. We were waved over by a man, and Sergeant Welsh wound down his window to speak to him as we approached.

  ‘That’s Lieutenant Colonel Carter’ whispered Keane. ‘He’s commands both Lancashire Fusilier Battalions.’

  I nodded my understanding, while realising I still had no real idea of the hierarchy within the army structure. I don’t think I had ever seen this man before, and he was commanding two battalions, of which Blue and White Company were a member of one. I remember Sergeant Davis explaining the military structure employed within the camp to me, as best he could after a few too many beers. He said it was unique to itself, with more rhyme than reason used to create the framework to work with. When soldiers of varying ranks and experience arrived, all from different barracks across the country, the generals pretty much let them organise themselves to start with, only changing it as more recruits were added, in preparation for war.

  ‘Nice of you to turn up Welsh’ said Lieutenant Colonel Carter, wiping the snow off his glasses. ‘The carriageway is now blocked, we are in the process of covering the two fields either side of the motorway, see the red break lights ahead? Follow them into the field, then get yourself set up.’

  Welsh nodded, and put his window back up, as Murphy set off after the vehicle ahead. Lieutenant Colonel Carter looked around fifty, with short grey hair, almost completely shaved off, balding on the very top and glasses. He had a stubbly complexion, and a three inch scar from the right side of his nose, passing the edge of his mouth down to his chin. We drove past the blockade, as it was being finalised, the soldiers taking up positions and mounting their machine guns. In front of the vehicles I could see soldiers pulling out lines of stingers across the carriageway, as we followed the vehicle in front, down the opposite slip road, and into the field. There was an old farm building in the field we entered, with a glow of light in its windows, and a large barn attached to the side. We continued past a row of vehicles, with more soldiers milling around them, towards another man, directing vehicles into position. We were lined up, the last vehicle in the row, with just fields to our right. We climbed out of the Viking, and started to unload the equipment out the back, as Sergeant Welsh spoke to the sergeant in the vehicle parallel, before giving out his orders.

  ‘Davis, Murphy here’ shouted Sergeant Welsh. ‘Get a couple of spades from Clarets Company, and start digging holes fifty yards away from our position, every couple of metres.’

  Both men jumped into action, as Sergeant Welsh turned his attention to Adrian and I. ‘Harper and Driver, grab the stingers out of the back of the Viking, carry them out past Davis and Murphy, and lay them out about a hundred yards away, don’t go past the red markers knocked into the ground, or we’ll be scooping up your remains to bury you, the land mines have already been placed. When you’ve finished, bring the markers back. Keane, can you check out that farm’ he said, pointing over our shoulders. ‘Move on whoever is inside, they’re going to be right in the middle of a battle zone. Take the prisoner, and put him in a secure room with a guard on him. Then speak to Sergeant Pearson, he’s half way up the slip road overlooking the field, organising the snipers, he’ll sort you out.’

  We removed the stinger from its safety case, and carried it out onto the field. There was a six inch covering of snow on the ground, that crunched as we walked out past Little D and Murphy, who were stood in ditches of their own making. We pulled it out across the field, slightly overlapping with the company to our left. As we walked back, the headlights from our vehicles were blinding us, the light bouncing off the snow, hopefully Torriero’s men will have the same problem. I overheard a radio report stating the convoy had left the M62, and was now on our motorway, heading directly towards us. I estimated it would take them around forty minutes to make the journey, maybe a little more in this weather. Sergeant Welsh ordered us to find some spades and help digging the holes. Most of the companies had finished their preparations, and were sat in their vehicles, trying to stay warm.

  We got a couple more spades from The Stanley Company, and helped Little D and Murphy to dig the trenches. By the time we had finished, the snow had re-covered our defences, helping to hide them from the approaching vehicles. Whistles started blowing from the direction of the Vikings, before a voice could be heard over the Tanoy.

  ‘Everyone back, grab the markers and retreat back to the vehicles.’

  By the time we had walked back through the slippery mud and snow, all the companies were out of their vehicles, preparing their weapons. I checked my rifle, and moved to the front of the Viking, with the rest of my company. Sandbags had been used to create cover in front of every vehicle, with ammo boxes and medical supplies stashed inside. The headlights were making it hard to see, and the cold mixed with nervous was affecting my control. I checked my weapon again, as one member of Clarets Company ran around the side of his vehicle, and started throwing up, his nerves getting the better of him. The waiting was difficult, particularly in the cold, I couldn’t stop shaking. A couple of soldiers were pacing around, in front of us, treading the snow into the mud, I looked at my watch and then checked my rifle again.

  ‘You’re bleeding’ said Little D, pointing at my hand. I turned it over and looked at my stump, which was oozing blood, it’s scab no longer protecting it. I must have been picking at it, nervou
sly, as we waited. Sergeant Welsh took a radio message stating a clean sweep in operation ‘Cannon Fodder,’ all companies accounted for, and all targets destroyed. The first indication I got that we had company, was a noise like distant thunder, a rumble that became a roar. I looked down the line of vehicles at the soldiers, as they sensed something was materialising, and stood up ready for action. We waited, watching the foggy horizon, pondering how the next few hours would pan out. I heard voices behind us on the slip road, and looked up at the carriageway, to see the first vehicles roll into view. They were slow, and stopped around a hundred and fifty yards from our guys, as the convoy behind them filtered down the slip roads into the fields on both sides of the motorway. Their vehicles, in contrast to our perfect straight line, were scattered in an undisciplined manner, consisting every vehicle type you can think of. Their engines remained on, pumping diesel into the freezing air, roaring like animals. We faced off for a few minutes, like army’s from previous centuries, where thousands died fighting for their freedom. I could see movement on top of the bridge, Lieutenant Colonel Carter stepped forward with his Tanoy, and addressed the fighters.

  ‘Where is Torriero?’ He shouted, taking a look back at his men, probably for a bit of moral support, but with no response he tried again.

  ‘Where is your leader? Who’s in charge?’

  Suddenly a vehicle accelerated towards him, followed by another, and then another. He turned and sprinted back into cover as a barrage of gunfire started over his head. More vehicles followed, through the field ahead of us, but they soon started hitting our defences. The first vehicles on the bridge were taken out by gunfire, the nearest in our field hit a line of stingers, and skidded on the snow into a trench, turning over, as another car behind exploded on a mine, somersaulted through the air and exploded into flames as it hit the ground. Then all hell broke loose, their vehicles were smashing into each other in an attempt to reach us, hitting mines and exploding. Men were climbing out of half destroyed vehicles and getting hit by other cars, or taken out by the mines. Bullets tore into metal, and glass, we held our position and fired at anything that moved. There was a loud crash on the bridge, as a truck came ploughing through the wall, crashing into a couple of Vikings in our field, causing men to dive out of the way of the explosion. Mud and snow was thrown into the air, the fireball was close enough to feel the heat. A couple of soldiers pulled away their comrades, one was on fire, and was screaming as they rolled him in the snow. The intense gunfire continued, one vehicle managed to get past the defences, only for the driver to be shot in the head as the vehicle ploughed into some sand bags, used for cover. The inside of the car was obliterated with bullets before anyone could get out, killing the rest of its passengers, blood spray covering the seats and windows. Most vehicles were taken out by either the traps set up, or our gunfire. But some still tried to get through, the noise from the explosions and constant gunfire was deafening, causing a brain fog I was struggling to see through. At first it was just shooting practice for us, with no returning fire to concern us, just vehicles attempting to breach our defences. Most were destroyed, and soon with no way through by car, many of Torriero’s men ditched their vehicles, and tried to shoot their way through, using them as cover. A couple of bullets too close for comfort convinced me to find a new position under cover, as the gun battle intensified. There were further explosions on the bridge, and in the opposite field, where smoke was bellowing into the sky from various sources. For the first few hours of the battle, the snow and wind had held off, but as Torriero’s men pushed harder, so did the weather. All the abandoned vehicles were proving useful to the attackers, providing them with enough cover around the battle ground to fight from and move forward. They started to inflict casualties on us, first injuries, but then outright kills. One member of Shrimps Company was hit through the head with a bullet, their medic tried in vain to save him, but he died pretty much instantly. After four hours of fighting, Torriero’s men had gained ground on us, and the battle felt like it was in our face, with fire coming from all directions. Sergeant Welsh was constantly barking orders at his company, although I could barely hear him over the onslaught on my senses. He sure kept himself out of the line of fire, unlike some of his peers, Sergeant Collier of The Shrimps Company for example, who was wounded in the leg and pelvis, as he fought from the front. The weather seemed to be pushing them from behind, giving them an extra boost, while hindering our visibility, blowing into our eyes. It was hard to gauge how many fighters they had, but it was substantially more than us, maybe double. But fortunately they were largely of poor quality, with only a few causing us problems, and inflicting injures. I killed a few fighters who found themselves in the open, but struggled more when the fighting became more tactical. At times we seemed to just be firing volleys of bullets into areas occupied by Torriero’s men, then they would return fire, rinse and repeat. Some of Torriero’s men had worked their way around the field, using vehicles as cover, and were positioned just twenty yards away, putting sustained gunfire on us. In one particular barrage, a member of Torriero’s army got within our ranks, and ran at Sergeant Welsh with a knife, screaming like a mad man. He collided with him, and they both hit the muddy ground. They rolled around in the snow, fighting over the knife, as we watched. No member of Blue and White Company, or any other company for that matter, intervened in the hand to hand fight. It was brutal, ending with Sergeant Welsh headbutting the man, and turning the knife around, and impaling him on it. The look in the man’s face, as he realised the knife was heading into his chest and he could do nothing about it was harrowing.

  ‘He picked the wrong fucking guy to pick a knife fight with!’ He laughed, standing up and wiping the blade on his jacket, staining it blood red. Lieutenant Colonel Carter ordered us to move the Vikings back one hundred yards, and re evaluate the situation. We grabbed what we could, and threw it into the back of the vehicles, using them as cover as we back tracked towards the farm building. We continued behind the Viking, as it slowly reversed, trying to keep Torriero’s men at bay. Adrian was stood directly in front of me as we walked backwards, when a bullet struck his head, rocking it back. He dropped to the floor, as blood sprayed across my chest, and I shouted.

  ‘Medic!’

  I dropped to my knees, smacking the back of the Viking so it would stop, and rolled him onto his back, as blood was spurting from his mouth. He was writhing around on the floor, shaking his head, as two of Torriero’s men made an attempt on us, but Sergeant Welsh and Little D shot them dead.

  ‘Get him into the Viking’ shouted Walters, medic for Clarets Company. ‘I’ll treat him in there.’

  Murphy and Sergeant Welsh lifted him off the ground and put him in the vehicle, as the rest of us covered them. Bullets were pinging off the Viking, and thudding into the field around our feet. Walters climbed into the back of the vehicle, and we continued towards the farm, leaving a vast open area behind us. This allowed Torriero’s men to move forward, and gain ground, but with no cover for them beyond their own vehicles, the fire fight became a more long distant battle, over the field we had just vacated, until it started to peter out for the day. The weather battered us all, barrelling over the open landscape, wiping out everyone’s will to fight, we were cold, tired and hungry. As the little day light breaking the ash clouds was replaced by darkness, the gunfire ceased. Lieutenant Colonel Carter ordered the battalion to take up for the night in the farm building, by the slip road. When it was secured, we moved the Vikings onto the property, and settled in for the night, with the snow storm rattling around the outside of the building. Adrian had been shot through the face, but remarkably, the bullet had gone through his cheek, into his mouth and out the other cheek. He had some burns inside his mouth, and had lost a few teeth, but had a lucky escape. He had been given medication when I saw him, his face bandaged up, and he didn’t really know where he was. He left the farm in a Viking in the early hours, as all injured were evacuated, heading back to Camp Blue. The fire was still
warm, and easily started up again with logs from one of the barns. The men all had a little to eat and drink, while regaining a little warmth and strength. Keane found us, and was full of himself as normal, how many men he had killed, and how many he’d saved. He claimed through his sniper rifle he could see their vehicles backed up along the motorway, and was of the opinion they had twice as many men fighting for them. But he also said he saw many of their men trying to escape the fight, and whole groups running away. The army’s stats for the day were nineteen killed and thirty nine injured, eleven serious enough to be evacuated. As I sat by the fire, it struck me I’d probably more than doubled the amount of people I had killed in the last ten hours. Before the nuclear attack, I hadn’t taken the life of anyone, now I wouldn’t hesitate before shooting to kill, I felt nothing, no remorse.

  Blue and white Company took the first watch, as the rest of the battalion got some sleep. I heard Lieutenant Colonel Carter in talks with the generals, describing the days fighting and declining the offer for support, claiming success was in hand. Their fighters had not been of any real quality, which made me believe this was not his strongest men, and therefore not the full offensive. Shortly after we had started our watch, a group of maybe thirty men came through the snow storm, with their arms in the air, and surrendered. They claimed the had been made to fight, and wanted nothing to do with it. They weren’t being fed and were sleeping in the abandoned vehicles, some hadn’t even been given a weapon. We moved them into the cellar, with the other arrested enemy, and we’ll decide what to do with them in the morning. A couple of the lads went outside for a cigarette, which I like to do, even though I don’t smoke. While we talked, we could hear the shouts and screams from some of Torriero’s wounded, still on the battlefield. They were pleading for help, help that wasn’t going to come.