Aftermath: The Complete Collection (Books 1 & 2)

by John Wilkinson

  ‘Atkinson!’ I shouted, grabbing his arm, and trying to move him. ‘Get up, move it. You’ll die if you stay here.’ He wouldn’t budge, so I kicked him in the ribs shouting. ‘Get the fuck up, if you don’t, I’ll shoot you myself.’ He still didn’t move, so I fired my rifle by his feet, as there was an explosion on the side of our tank, sending debris into the air. ‘I swear I’ll fucking shoot you’ I shouted, as he looked up at me, and gingerly climbed to his feet. I grabbed his arm, and pulled him as I ran, across the carriageway, and over the bridge, all the while bullets were hitting the floor around us.

  ‘You should have left him’ snarled Sergeant Welsh. We were told to continue into cover, as one of Torriero’s tanks was attempting to cross the bridge. But that’s what Lieutenant Colonel Carter was hoping, and expecting. When it was halfway across, and a second tank was starting to climb up the deck, he detonated the explosives, positioned along the entire length of the bridge. The bridge collapsed in on itself from the centre, the tank fell forward, hitting the shattering concrete, and then disappearing under a cloud of dust and debris. When the cloud had subsided, one tank had disappeared under the waves below, and another sat precariously on the edge. It was frantically trying to reverse back, but gravity was against it, as the remains of the concrete bridge gave way under its tracks, it toppled over the edge and dropped twenty yards to the river below. The scene caused mass cheering from the soldiers on our side of the river, whooping and a hollering. There is no way they could survive that drop in a vehicle, the River Ribble is around thirty metres wide, and deep with a strong current. A couple of Torriero’s men tried to cross, probably ordered by an overzealous superior. But the order must have been overturned, when they were swept away, never to be seen again. We all moved into position, in the fields to the left and right of the river, short burst of gunfire were heard over the river, but eventually the fighting died out for the day. It was time for both armies to re-evaluate the situation, and what should be done going forward. As night came, Torriero’s army launched one final assault on us, firing a bombardment of mortars over the river, into our positions. Everyone ran for cover, under the vehicles lined up in the field a favourite place, but many just ran into the woods, hoping the trees would offer some protection. But in truth, the mortar was a weapon they hadn’t mastered yet, their range was completely out, resulting in no injures from the attack, most exploded in the river, or on the banking. They then attempted to effect our moral, with propaganda messages, shouted through a public address system.

  ‘This is only the start of the war, we will not stop until you are all dead.’

  Their messages amused most of the soldiers, particularly after the two tanks that were destroyed at the death, but their commitment and dedication soon started to wind up the new battalion, who had to listen to it for hours. They had arrived all fresh faced, to relive all operational soldiers, and give them some rest and recovery time. Silence finally came over the battleground, and the days fighting came to an end, except for a few small exchanges of fire. Sergeant Welsh ordered us to help The Lancashire Fusiliers Ninth Battalion to put the fires out, caused by the mortars. We grabbed buckets, and headed down to the river, filling them with water and pouring it onto the burning shrubbery and trees. We all got back in our vehicles, and were driven back up the hill along the A59, through the security and into the base, on Church Street. There was a large community building, that was being used to house the injured, who were lined up on stretchers as the medical staff dealt with them. There was lots of activity around this building, as the screams of the injured could be heard from outside. A man appeared from inside the building, and poured a bucket full of water down the drain, it was dark red in colour, the same as his hands. I noticed a group of soldiers, gathered together around a sign on the wall of a pub. There was two large chalk boards, probably used to advertise the pubs ‘Specials’ or ‘Live football’ in the past. They had a different use now, to help the army keep track of fatalities. The first board had ‘Dead’ written on it, the second ‘Missing.’ The dead board had fifty seven names on it, and the missing over seventy. Soldiers were still lining up waiting to add to it, as more companies arrived back from fighting. A fleet of vehicles drove through security, and lined up outside the community building, like a taxi rank, each waiting their turn. First the injured were brought out, still on their stretchers, and loaded into the vehicles, as many per vehicle as they could fit. Then the dead were carefully loaded into the vehicles, at least the bodies we’ve managed to retrieve. The vehicles followed the A583 out of Preston, through the different security points, into Blackpool and then Camp Blue. The army have battalions guarding every approach to the camp, which in reality is spreading us rather thin, and leaving us vulnerable to losing control of key areas. As we left the Vikings, I could see some of the engineers working on repairing damaged vehicles, and re-stocking their armory. A couple of the tanks had taken a fair few hits, and needed patching up for tomorrow. Sergeant Welsh told us to take occupation of any houses along the A59, or around the base. Everyone had been evacuated now, and the houses were a free for all. There were signs on the occupied houses, Sergeant Welsh stayed in a building with the other sergeants, as Keane, Little D, Murphy, Atkinson and I found an empty house after a short walk. Inside, as the others ran up the stairs to grab the beds, I stopped a moment to look at the pictures laying on the radiator cover in the hallway. Pictures of a young family, two children on their holidays, happy faces in good times. What had happened to this family played on my mind, as I lay down in one of the children’s bedrooms and tried to get some sleep.

  7/1/28 - Time 11:45 pm

  I was woken early on the fifth by noises downstairs, and ventured down to find Little D and Murphy helping themselves to some cereal, left in boxes in the kitchen. I got myself a bowl and helped myself, although it was sorely missing some ice cold milk. Keane and Atkinson joined us shortly after, and we chatted about yesterday’s fighting. We left the house around six am, and walked into the centre of the camp, to receive our orders for the day. The strong winds and had gone, replaced by a gentle rain that was certainly not out of place on a January morning in Lancashire. The sergeants houses were already empty, and we found Sergeant Welsh leaving a meeting in the council building, now being used to run the operation.

  ‘Grab your gear’ he said, walking past. ‘We move out in five.’

  The convoy of Vikings left the camp along the A6, as Sergeant Welsh explained what was happening.

  ‘Torriero’s army has simultaneously attacked three positions in the early hours of the morning. The main attack was at the M55 junction on the M6, which was being guarded by The Queens Lancers and The Rifles Battalions. They have held it thus far, and reinforcements are leaving camp now. They have also attacked the bridge over the River Wyre, on the A588, guarded by The Leicester Tigers Battalion, who have protected the bridge, pushing them back to Hambleton. Spotters have also confirmed sightings of a group marching along Blackpool Road towards Camp Blue. We believe they are only a small group, of maybe a couple of hundred men, who have found themselves on Blackpool Road having left the M6 and cut across the fields, more by luck than judgement. They are our targets, we need to move quick, as they are already closing in on our camp. Lieutenant Colonel Carter is overseeing this operation, with The Lancashire Fusiliers Seventh Battalion playing lead, and Ninth in reserve, covering yesterday’s battlefield.’

  The convoy moved onto Blackpool Road, and past Moor Park, into a residential area, where we were due to meet spotter forty seven, who had moved to a new position after confirming Torriero’s men approaching. We continued along Blackpool Road, with streets of evacuated houses, windows boarded up and a multitude of different types of retailers, all looted.

  ‘We’re looking for the motorbike shop’ said Sergeant Welsh. ‘Where we’re meeting the spotter.’

  The shop appeared on our left, just after the junction where Preston North End’s stadium sat, in the glum fog and rain. Kean
e mentioned they’d considered Deepdale Stadium as a possible site for Camp Blue, but the hotel complex next to Blackpool’s was the deciding factor. Murphy parked up next to the shop, and we all climbed out to stretch our legs. Inside the shop, all the high end electric motorbikes had been left untouched, like a museum. Upstairs we found the spotter, inside the flat over the shop, a modest apartment with a kitchen and living area all in one room, with a bedroom and toilet. There were pictures of motorbikes and other biker gear around the room. He put a bag of crisps he had scavenged on the kitchen table when he saw us enter, and walked over to introduce himself.

  ‘Good morning gentlemen’ he said, offering his hand to Sergeant Welsh, who shook it. ‘My name is Payne.’

  ‘Spotter forty seven?’ Replied Sergeant Welsh, as Clarets Company entered the room.

  ‘That’s correct. How many battalions have they sent?’

  ‘One.’

  ‘One! Are you fucking joking?’

  ‘And one in reserve.’

  Payne paused a moment, as he thought about the numbers.

  ‘Well it is what it is, I estimate Torriero to have around two hundred men, maybe two fifty.’

  ‘What vehicles?’

  ‘A few people carriers, and a couple of tanks.’

  ‘Where are they?’ Interrupted Sergeant Hargreaves, unfolding a map, and placing it on the dining room table.

  ‘They’re at Deepdale Retail Park’ replied Payne, pointing it out on the map. ‘Probably searching for food. I was positioned here, in an office building on the opposite side of the road. When I saw them walking down Blackpool Road, I thought they were going to pass, but they must have needed supplies. It gave me chance to move position, and radio a report in.’

  ‘How long ago?’

  ‘Thirty, forty minutes.’

  Payne showed us on the map where he believed the tanks and other vehicles had been positioned, and where the men were. It was agreed we should move fast, if we wanted to use the element of surprise, a tactical advantage we would only hold for so long. We walked back downstairs and out of the shop, where the other companies were out of their vehicles, checking their equipment. Sergeant Hargreaves radioed in to Lieutenant Colonel Carter for tank backup, but was told it would be over five hours before they could get any to us, time we simply didn’t have. We left Payne, who was going to hold his position until otherwise notified, and set off towards the shopping centre. We positioned a couple of snipers in the highest buildings within sight, and we set off on foot. We’d only been walking for five minutes, when we saw a man ahead, walking in the middle of the road towards us. He was in a world of his own, casually meandering towards us. When he saw our battalion, he turned and ran in the direction he had been walking, his trench coat flapping in the wind.

  ‘Keane’ said Sergeant Welsh, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him out front. ‘Take him out.’

  ‘Don’t kill him though’ added Sergeant Hargreaves. ‘I want him questioned.’

  Keane lined up his shot, and shattered his leg with a well placed bullet. The man was writhing around on the floor shouting for help, but his comrades were too far away. Sergeant Welsh ordered Atkinson and Little D to secure the target and remove any weapons, which they did, as the rest of the battalion caught up.

  ‘Pick him up’ said Sergeant Hargreaves, walking through the front door of an abandoned hairdressers. ‘And bring him in here.’

  They picked him up, and dragged him through the doorway, and into the premises. Sergeant Welsh pulled out a chair, still covered in four month old hair, and pushed the man down, as Sergeant Hargreaves addressed him.

  ‘My name is Sergeant Hargreaves, and I’ve got a few questions for you.’

  The man remained stone faced, starring blankly at him, clearly still in pain. He was a dark haired individual, maybe thirty, with an unkempt beard and one of Torriero’s long black jackets. He was offering us nothing, he sat back in the chair ignoring Sergeant Hargreaves’s questions.

  ‘How many men are there at the shopping centre?’ He asked, starring into his face, the man just sat there without even raising an eyebrow. ‘How many men are at the shopping centre?’ Repeated Sergeant Hargreaves, starting to get frustrated with him, and raising his voice. The man broke eye contact, turning to his right while muttering under his breath. Sergeant Welsh launched at him, grabbing him by the neck and forcing the chair over backwards, letting it crash to the floor. He picked a pair of scissors out of the sink, and stuck it into his face, under his right eye, while pressing his knee into the wound on his leg.

  ‘I’m going to take your fucking eyes out’ he shouted, pushing his knee harder. ‘One at a time, you fucking understand?’

  The man spluttered his response, he wasn’t quite as brave as he thought he was.

  ‘Please, don’t, I’ll tell you what you want to know.’

  Sergeant Welsh let go of the man, and threw the scissors into the sink, while glancing at Sergeant Hargreaves, and raising his eyebrows. The man was helped back to his feet and re composed himself, sitting back down on the chair.

  ‘There are around three hundred men, and two tanks.’

  ‘Why have they stopped? What are they doing?’

  ‘They’re resting, before moving-’

  ‘Resting!’ Sergeant Welsh interrupted, with a grin on his face. ‘Then we attack the dumb fuckers now.’

  ‘Some of the men haven’t slept for forty eight hours, they’ve been moving position and equipment all night.’

  ‘What were you doing then?’ Sergeant Hargreaves replied.

  ‘I was sent to scout ahead.’

  The man was asked about other strategical positions, but claimed he didn’t know, he wasn’t told any military information, he was just a foot soldier. We left him in the care of The Latics Company whose medic treated his leg, as they took up position in the hairdressers, to guard any further prisoners of war we might take. The snow from the previous few days had all but gone, replaced by a gentle continuous rain, causing pools of water, mainly on concrete. When the shopping centre came into view through the dreary Lancashire weather, Sergeant Welsh sent Keane and four other snipers to take up position where Payne had been scouting from. The building looked like an office block, with room after room of computers, seemingly from a previous life. It took them a few minutes to climb up to the fourth floor, and scout the target, when they’d completed their objectives they radioed in a sitrep. The shopping centre was a triangular shaped premises, with its tip the furthest point from the snipers position, and its flat base parallel to the main road. It has around thirty shops, from clothes retailers, and food outlets to a large toy shop and cinema. Keane tagged five men outside the complex guarding the area, with two tanks located directly in front of the entrance, hidden by abandoned vehicles. The snipers took out the guards silently and simultaneously, then gave us the all clear to move in. After a short conversation between Sergeant Welsh and Lieutenant Colonel Carter over the radio, Clarets, Blue and White, The Shrimps and Stanley Companies were told to go in, with the rest in backup. We set off in two groups, Clarets followed us quickly over the wet glistening car park, to the first row of vehicles. The tanks were sixty yard straight ahead of us, and the cinema was twenty yards to our left. Our first objective was getting control of the tanks, or decommission them with an explosive charge. It was hard to see anything inside the shops, the dark black grey, glaring off the rain soaked floor. Members of Clarets Company tried with binoculars, but it was futile. Sergeant Welsh gave us the signal, and we set off across the car park, in formation. We couldn’t see anymore guards, so we started to head towards the tanks, while keeping our eyes on the buildings. As we got to within ten yards of the nearest tank, I heard movement coming from inside it, before it opened up on us. The two men to my left were instantly cut in half by the bullets, pieces of their bodies fell to the floor like slabs of meat at the butchers. The gunfire took limbs off, I saw one man fall to the floor as his right leg was taken off like a skitt
le at a bowling alley. Men were just mowed down, ripped to pieces by the bullets, as they tried to find cover, and rescue their comrades. I could hear voices shouting over the gunfire, the smell of the smoke was intoxicating, as we just tried to stay alive. Men appeared out of the buildings, firing their weapons at us, as pandemonium ensured. I grabbed the body of a soldier close to me, who was screaming, leaving a bloody trail as I dragged his legless body across the ground. I could see Little D shouting, but couldn’t hear what he was saying, as he pointed in the direction of the cinema. I continued to drag the soldier as Murphy grabbed my shoulder and pulled me away, turning to scream in my face ‘Move it Driver, he’s dead.’ I looked at the man’s face, as more bullets thudded into the concrete in front of us, his eyes were wide open. I dropped him and ran through the doors of the cinema, just as the second tank fired it’s first shell, sending two vehicles somersaulting through the air in an explosion of smoke and flames. We could only watch from inside the cinema, as soldiers were cut down trying to reach us. I’m not sure how many men we lost in the initial onslaught, it could have been as many as ten. Blue and White Company lived a charmed life escaping without a single fatality, unlike The Shrimps Company who lost all members bar one. The tank fired some shells at the cinema building, destroying internal walls and shattering chairs and wooden structures. But they soon stopped, not wanting to hit their own men. Inside the building, it was dark and difficult to see, the dust and debris thrown up from the shelling, lingered in the air. We moved away from the entrance into the bowels of the cinema, to get away from the tanks. There was a short battle inside the building, with approximately fifty of Torriero’s men, who pinned us down as we tried to re-group. Sergeant Welsh sent a radio message to Lieutenant Colonel Carter, requesting tank assistance urgently. The gunfight took place in the corridors, and reception area, where we just had to hold our own. From a defensive position, we started to inflict casualties on the enemy. As they tried to seize the initiative, they became a little sloppy. We dug in, hidden in the darkness, and picked off anyone who showed their hand. But we were under extreme fire, and took further casualties ourselves, and a couple of deaths. The pressure on us was only lifted slightly when the three other companies, who had been placed in backup, joined the battle. They came around the outside of the complex, entering the cinema from the back entrance, near to where we were positioned. For a few hours it was intense, I was grazed by a bullet on my right leg, ripping a hole through my uniform as it past through. The medic from The Reds Company patched me up, and any other soldiers injured, he was kept busy. The fight became a more close combat battle, as the space around us closed in, none of Torriero’s men would give up, or give in. They took no casualties, every man shot was killed, they wouldn’t surrender, fighting until they were dead. We tried to get a sitrep from Keane, but couldn’t get a response from him, we were that deep inside the building. After four hours of feeling on the back foot, we started to advance forward, clearing out room after room. Each cinema screen had to be painstakingly checked, row after row, while under fire. Some enemy would lay silently in the darkness, waiting patiently until they had a shot, most injures were inflicted that way. We left a trail of dead bodies, as the unit progressed into the next building, through a large open area. There were small fires caused by the tanks shells, that needed putting out as we moved through the complex. A few men from Stanley Company got water from the sinks in the public toilets, and used it on the fires, before the smoke got too bad. Each premises was connected by a large open hall, that spanned the entire length of the shopping precinct. When we were moving into the next premises, a voice from within one of our companies drew our attention to the battle outside. The building where Keane and the other snipers had been positioned was in flames, a huge black smoking hole marking the spot where they had stood. Murphy tried to make contact with Keane again, but there was no response. Many of the premises seemed to be empty of Torriero’s men, we had a stretch of maybe forty minutes, as we swept through the shopping centre, without being shot at. We past the halfway point and cleared the food hall, and the toy shop, before we started to meet some resistance. We tried to avoid the main open corridor, stretching across the right hand side of the complex, as it was prone to attack from the tanks, but we had to use it to get from shop to shop. Every now and then the tanks would target the corridor, and we would all run for cover, behind anything we could find. As we reached the final stretch of the complex, we found the rest of Torriero’s men, dug in waiting for us. What ensued was the most intense and bloody battle thus far, as Torriero’s army introduced a new level of weaponry into the fight. First they bombarded our position with rocket propelled grenades, which caused structural damage to the building, and sent glass and debris into the air. My ears were ringing from the noise, it was relentless, with no rest for anyone. Sergeant Welsh ordered Little D and Atkinson to head back to where The Shrimps Company were positioned, to collect some ammo boxes, as we were running out on the front line. We continued to fight, feeling we were close to getting on top. Ahead of us was a fountain, once an exhibit that would have children gathered around as it shot streams of water into the air, now just something to provide cover. By the side of it was some stairs, running up to the floor above, where some of the shopping centres smaller retailers were. As we gathered by the fountain, we were shot at, and cowered behind the walls, as bullets tore into the plasterwork. There were three shops beyond the fountain, and we decided to split the battalion up, as we were taking hits from enemy positioned on the level above. The Riversiders, The Cod Army and The Tangerines Companies headed up the stairs by the fountain, as we covered them, firing grenades from our under-barrel launcher. When they had safely positioned themselves, we tried to move forward, but found ourselves up against strong opposition. At one point, we all had to run for cover as part of the floor above came crashing down, weakened by a bazooka rocket. Fortunately no one was hurt, but it only gave Torriero’s men ideas, and they repeatedly attempted to bring walls and ceiling down on our positions. Little D and Atkinson arrived back on the front line with full ammo boxes, and got straight back into the action, which was still intensive. We received a radio message from Keane, stating they had moved positions when they’d come under fire, and were now situated in the field to the right of the complex. From there they could see some of Torriero’s men, digging in, and could take them out unnoticed, when the moment was right. As the night came, we could feel the battle turning our way, as our superior training and fitness started to tell. But the real turning point arrived with the arrival of two tanks from The Black Cats Battalion, and the Lancashire Fusiliers Ninth Battalion. They quickly took out the two tanks, that had been the cause of so many of today’s fatalities, leaving two metal carcasses, blazing in the car park. The gunfire continued into the next day, as Torriero’s men didn’t give up the fight, most dying before we could take them prisoner. Around four am, we encircled the final ten, barricaded inside the kitchen of a fast food outlet. Sergeant Pearson of The Cod Army Company warned the men through the public address system, if they did not surrender, the army would use deadly force to end the battle. He gave them five minutes to decide, but with no response, the army went in. Two of the fresher companies from The Lancashire Fusiliers Ninth Battalion were given the task, The Accrington Pals and The Cumbrian Dragoons. They created three entry points: The main double doors, the back door from outside, and the centre of a ten metre wall, stretching the length of the premises. They used breech charges, creating the entry points as one, and throwing in smoke grenades. They then entered, a short gun battle followed, and it was over. I looked through the shattered plaster hole on the main wall, and could see their lifeless bodies, with blood spray covering the metal kitchen units. The battle had lasted almost twenty hours, we walked out into the car park, in the cold morning fog as a fleet of Vikings arrived, and parked up. Two companies from The Lancashire Fusiliers Ninth Battalion were left to clean up the mess, bury Torriero’s dead, and arrange for the a
rmy’s dead to be taken back to Camp Blue. As we drove back to camp, Sergeant Welsh filled us in on the report from yesterday’s fighting.