Aftermath: The Complete Collection (Books 1 & 2)

by John Wilkinson

  ‘Did you fight any creatures?’ Sergeant Hargreaves asked, joining the group as he opened a ration pack.

  ‘There were no fighters, they sent out more aircraft from another exit nearer the back, but we shot them down too, and continued hitting the base of the mothership, which had started to slowly move away. It had no speed though, it was burning, and whatever kind of technology keeps it in the sky was starting to fail. It suddenly dropped around fifty feet, so we knew it was struggling, smoke was bellowing out of its undercarriage. We got everyone into cover, and watched as it ploughed into the Victoria Centre, then into the surrounding buildings, bursting into flames. It destroyed two blocks, the dust and debris that came off it was reminiscent of the two towers from The World Trade Centre collapsing. Crazy shit.’

  ‘What’s happening now?’ Interrupted Sergeant Welsh, ‘With the wreckage?’

  ‘The Queens Lancers and The 95th Rifles were left to secure the crash site. I was unattached, so they sent me, along with another fifty plus soldiers, to the offensive on Torriero.’

  ‘Brilliant’ grunted Sergeant Welsh, getting up off the wall, and leaving for his bed. ‘Another fucking kid who thinks he’s a soldier.’

  ‘Is he always so welcoming to new recruits?’ Chapman laughed, his eyebrows dancing. With that, we headed to get some sleep, as The Yorkshire Terriers Battalion took the first shift on look out.

  13/1/2028 - Time 23:30

  We were woken around four am on the morning of the thirteenth, to take our turn on patrol. I was glad to get out of the building though, the smell inside my room was suffocating me. If Torriero’s men didn’t know we were coming, they could probably smell us. The BO from hundreds of tired, wet and smelly soldiers, who hadn’t changed for days, was intoxicating. Outside was deadly silent, during the night we’d been joined on the front line by a couple of tanks. Higson, Smith and Garner of Clarets Company, joined Murphy and Keane having a cigarette, standing by the inner fence and guard post. We’d been lucky with the weather for the past few days, but rain had set in overnight, and looked like it would be here for sometime. By six am, the rest of the battalions were being woken by their superiors. I saw Lieutenant Colonel Carter on the front line, for the first time during this operation, as he wondered around speaking to different soldiers, trying to instill some desire to finish the job. After breakfast, we were given our orders and set about bringing the internal fencing down, before moving into the next area of the camp. The first obstacle we faced was a river, flowing straight across our path. The Black Cats Tank Battalion showed the way, following Victoria Road towards The River Aire, where there was a bridge big enough to take the tanks. The battalions cleaned up all the buildings on the way, the streets and wasteland. We heard reports there had been contact with Torriero’s men at two locations around the circle we were tightening around him. The Queens Lancers Battalion had hit forces around The Weightmans Building on Park Lane, and The Rifles Battalion had met opposition at Merrion Street, so we were prepared for contact at any moment. The area before the bridge had been covered with traps, designed to kill and maim. Trip wires rigged with explosives, bear traps and spikes a particular favourite. In one metal bear trap, were the bodies of a family, one man and three boys. The man had been caught by the trap, and had died from blood loss, with the children dying as they wouldn’t leave him. He’d made an attempt to cut his leg off, but hadn’t got half way before dying. It was horribly upsetting to see, I noticed a few men had tears in their eyes, children who just needed helping, but there was nobody prepared to do that. When there is no food, it’s everyone for themselves. At the concrete bridge, our tanks started to make their way across, one at a time, as the rain started to come down a little heavier. As our first tank touched ground on the opposite side, there was a large explosion in the centre of the bridge, smoke plummeted sky wards as the bridge collapsed into the river. Clouds of dust covered the area, blocking our vision and lingering in the air. We lost one tank in the explosion, and another was sat isolated on the opposite side. Four enemy tanks appeared from behind buildings on the left and right hand side, and fired shells at our tank. We tried to help, putting fire on the enemy vehicles, but it was all in vain, they destroyed our tank, leaving its burning shell in front of us as they moved back out of sight. We took cover as bullets rained down on us from the buildings across the river, and we re-composed ourselves, examining the maps. Torriero’s army had made an assumption we would use this bridge to cross, and used it’s natural bottleneck to launch a surprise attack. The next few hours were spent trying to seize control of the river, but with no way across nearby, we struggled to get anywhere. Lieutenant Colonel Carter split The Yorkshire Terriers Battalion into two, and placing a tank with each, sent one group along Water Lane, to attempt to cross the river on Whitehall Road, and the second group to cross at Bridge End, on Meadow Lane. We continued to exchange fire with a group of Torriero’s men, who had taken up in positions in the buildings just on from the river. Those buildings were large office blocks, with a river view that would have cost a fortune before the war, now just providing four floors of cover. We needed to make a walkway across the remains of the bridge, so back tracked onto the streets behind us, and removed doors off buildings, sheets of corrugated metal from local factories, trees, anything we could use. One by one we got men across, laying down fire on the office blocks, as our soldiers found cover on the opposite side. Chapman and I were the last across from Blue and White Company, it was like an assault course, the river spraying up at us making the walkway treacherous. On the other side, we put fire on the enemy positions, so we could move forward. I saw one member of The Riversiders Company shot dead as he made a dash for the office blocks, the bullet hitting him in his chest. He was dragged back into cover and worked on by the medics, but the bullet pieced his heart, killing him instantly. We reached the doors to the offices, and made our way inside, through the debris and glass covering everything. Sergeant Welsh ordered Chapman and I to take the ground floor and the first floor, Keane and Little D the second and third and he would clear the fourth, fifth and sixth floor with Murphy. We secured the ground floor and reception before heading for the stairs, all the while keeping our eyes out for traps, as bursts of gunfire could be heard through the building, feet running and voices. On the first floor we encountered a group of seven fighters, who quickly surrendered, which surprised me. We cleared out the remaining floor, checking under every table, and in every room. In some rooms it was just a further example of time standing still, the workplace for hundreds of people, dirty coffee cups on tables, sheets of paperwork left for the next day. The wind rushed through the building, through the glassless window frames, blowing paper and debris around the floor. We headed back down the stairs with our prisoners at gunpoint, meeting Lieutenant Colonel Carter on the car park to the office. He had nominated The Shrimps Company to deal with any prisoners, and had designated a building for them to be housed in, until we were ready to move out. We received confirmation the tanks had made a crossing at Whitehall Road, after patching up the partially destroyed bridge, and would arrive soon. Keane and Little D joined us, with three arrested soldiers in tow, who were put with the others. After chatting for a few minutes, we started to wonder where Sergeant Welsh and Murphy were, they were the only soldiers yet to return. Lieutenant Colonel Carter asked me and Little D to go an investigate, so we left the others and re-entered the building. There were voices in the stairwell, echoing down to us as we climbed the steps. We joked it would be ironic if Sergeant Welsh had got himself killed, being the dick we knew he was. We ignored the fourth and fifth floor, following the voices up to the sixth, where they became a little clearer. We could hear someone screaming, from the pit of their stomach, in real pain, and followed the screams with our rifles out ready. We walked through an office full of computer desks, and turned into the hallway towards the second office. Ahead, through the office door we could see Murphy, who turned and acknowledged our arrival. He was wearing an expression I
didn’t recognise, we entered the room stepping over a few discarded weapons, to find Sergeant Welsh with his back to us, holding a man down on a table. On the floor to his left was the body of one of another man, his eyes open with a bullet hole in his forehead. Sergeant Welsh stepped away from the screaming man, as he sensed our arrival, holding a bloody knife in his right hand. The man was shouting for his mum, his face covered in blood, as he rolled off the table, contracting into a ball as he hit the floor. There were two other enemy soldiers, cowering in the corner, one of which went to the aid of his comrade, who was twitching in a pool of his own blood.

  ‘Get back in the corner, you fucking scumbag’ shouted Sergeant Welsh, before turning his attention to us. ‘What the fuck do you want?’ He snarled, pointing the bloody knife at us, before throwing it onto the desk.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Replied Little D, reasonably calmly given what we’d walked in on. ‘You’re out of control Welsh.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up Davis, I’m in complete control. I’m the only one that knows what’s going on here, the only one that really gets it. I’m getting shit done, getting the answers to questions. Now I know where Torriero is hiding, this piece of shit has just told me exactly what I wanted to know.’

  ‘Is that after you took his eye?’

  ‘What do you care? These are the fuckers who murdered your brother, do you even care?’

  ‘Fuck you, you arrogant prick.’

  ‘What you gonna do Davis?’ Sergeant Welsh spat back, picking his hand gun off the desk, and aiming at him. Little D didn’t raise his weapon, it lay at his side as he continued to argue. But my instinct was to aim at Sergeant Welsh, not something I thought about, just an automatic response.

  ‘Put your fucking gun down Driver’ shouted Sergeant Welsh, briefly aiming his weapon at me before moving back to Little D. I didn’t move it, and he kept glimpsing at me, out of the corner of his eye.

  ‘You’re not fit to lead this team’ Little D responded. ‘You’re a fucking disgrace. I’m taking command of this company now.’

  ‘Don’t push me Davis, I will put you down.’

  ‘I’m sure you will.’

  Sergeant Welsh was getting redder and more animated, as he lost control of the situation. He was becoming twitchy, and sweat was pouring off him, which he wiped off his brow with his arm.

  ‘Stand down Driver’ he shouted, waving his gun back in my direction again. ‘Murphy, put your gun on Driver. Stand down Davis, this won’t end well for you, I’ll make sure you’re working in the kitchen for the rest of your service. Murphy, I’m fucking ordering you to aim at Driver.’

  Murphy looked at me nervously, his hand hovering around his weapon, muttering to himself.

  ‘Murphy!’ Repeated Sergeant Welsh, ‘Take out Driver, now.’

  Murphy lifted his rifle towards me, but then pulled it across his body towards Sergeant Welsh.

  ‘What are you fucking doing, I’ll have you all court marshaled for this. Put your gun on Driver.’

  ‘It’s you that needs to put your weapon down’ said Little D. ‘There’s no other way out of this, you’re done.’

  The desperation was all over his face, he moved his weapon from one member of the company, to another. Then he lowered it to the floor, his gaze following suite, as he started shouting.

  ‘Are you gonna shoot me you fucking cowards? So this is what I get for sorting your company out, fuck the lot of you.’ He fired his hand gun into the air, and then moved closer to Little D, getting right into his face as he shouted, trying to get a reaction. He then did the same to me, spraying my face as he screamed, I could smell his foul breath as he continued.

  ‘Which one if you fuckers has the balls to do it then?’ He shouted, firing his hand gun into the floor six yards from Little D, causing Murphy to twitch. He then fired a second shot that flashed inches from Little D’s head, the bullet embedding itself in the wall behind him. In a breath, Sergeant Welsh was hit in the chest from a burst of gunfire, that sent him sprawling to the ground, as more bullets from his gun thudded into the wall behind Little D’s head. It took us a few seconds to re-compose ourselves, and realise what had just happened, those seconds were in silence, just looking at each other. Murphy had fired the fatal bullets, he walked over to Sergeant Welsh’s body, and checked him, confirming he was dead with a nod of his head.

  ‘This is a fuck up’ he said, finding a chair to sit on.

  ‘He’d lost it, he was going to kill one of us’ I replied, trying to reassure him.

  ‘Maybe, either way it’s not going to go down well.’

  ‘Pull yourselves together’ said Little D, pointing towards the injured fighter. ‘This man needs a medic, we still have a job to do. Sergeant Welsh had lost it, he killed one man, attacked another, removing his eye with a knife. We confronted him, and he pulled a gun on us, it was either him or us. That is our story, that is what happened.’ We all nodded our understanding, and got on with the objective. We took the prisoners out of he building, meeting up with Lieutenant Colonel Carter, where the injured man was treated by our medics. Little D had a private conversation with Lieutenant Colonel Carter, and explained what had happened. None of Blue and White Company were privy to the discussion, but Little D later told us that Lieutenant Colonel Carter spoke to the generals in front of him, and he was promoted to sergeant with immediate effect. He said there would have to be an inquiry into what happened, requiring us all to give evidence, when the war was over. He was told off record, the generals knew Sergeant Welsh was a risk, they’d had other complaints, but he’d got the job done. Lieutenant Colonel Carter had also advised us to get our story straight, before we were interviewed. Little D probably didn’t have the experience required to take the role of sergeant, but having proved himself in combat, and having the complete respect of each member of Blue and White Company, he was deemed the right man for the job, at least on an interim bases. We left Sergeant Welsh’s body in the office block, at the request of Lieutenant Colonel Carter, who ordered in a new battalion to take our place when we leave, to orchestrate the clean up. By midday, the remaining tanks from The Black Cats Battalion had joined up with us, and were being looked over by our engineers, and re-stocked with ammunition. We had a short break for lunch, in which we discussed the next objective, and finalised our plan. Torriero had control of an area roughly half a mile radius, at the centre of which was The Headrow, a long straight road that split the camp across the middle. The road was under his control, with the might of his army positioned along it. He was already fighting running battles on the westerly and easterly points, as our circle enclosed around him. Our objective was to attack him from the south, but before we could do that we would have to work our way through the city. We followed the tanks along Neville Street past more and more office blocks, which all had to be painstakingly searched before we could secure it and move on. There was intensive fighting when we reached Leeds Train Station, as we finally started to collide with Torriero’s army. They had row upon row of dug in placements, high and low, setting themselves strategic defensive positions. From there they fought, with high powered artillery, and men on the ground. When we arrived, the area was clearly prepared for battle, but largely free from destruction. But that didn’t last long, as bullet holes, and explosions tore through everything. We moved through the train station, clearing buildings, carriages, but it was slow going. Just like an onion, every time we managed to remove a layer of soldiers fighting in trenches, there was another layer underneath, just as deeply dug in. There were hundreds of metres of trenches dug, using the lines of the railway to strengthen their defences, dug in making them hard to target. We moved through, using tank shells to soften their positions, taking a few casualties, but inflicting more on the enemy. After a few hours of fighting, we were past the train station, and found the battleground changing to a more built up, close combat style fighting. The enemy had gun positions on top of the bridge, that overlooked the car park, where we had parked whe
n we arrived for our meeting with Torriero. After being pinned down for a few minutes, our tanks took out their gunners, allowing us to move forward through the car park, still littered with vehicles. As I ran past the first vehicle, I was blown into the air, and landed on the bonnet of the car behind me. The explosion was a member of The Riversiders Company, who activated a trip wire, and was blown into pieces. I saw it happen, the only person who did, all that was left to identify him from was his right arm. I think his name was Williamson, although I have never spoken to him, he was only identified later when everyone else was accounted for. Another young man that wouldn’t be returning home, and no body for his family to grieve over. The circle we were tightening around Torriero now meant we were working side by side with other companies, The Riversiders Company to our left and Clarets to our right. There were just pockets of fighters in the car park, which we mopped up quickly, before moving onto the bridge. The corpses were still hanging underneath the arch, in fact they seemed to have been added to. Three companies were sent through the bridge arches, to attack Torriero’s men from a different position, as we tried to take control of the bridge. The battle for control was the bloodiest fight of the day, that I was involved in. Torriero’s men had the high ground, and used it to their advantage, laying fire down on our positions, and inflicting the majority of the days injuries and deaths. The top of the steps was overlooked by a gun placement, as was any climbable banking, soon a pile of bodies told the story of our attempts. Men were cut down trying to get into a position to attack them from, we lost upwards of twenty men in half an hour, dead or injured. Lieutenant Colonel Carter ordered the tanks to backtrack down Boar Lane, and take New Market Street which ends up on top of the bridge, where they could attack them from the front. Three companies from The Lancashire Fusiliers Ninth Battalion followed behind on foot, as we took cover and waited. We heard the tanks rolling across the top of the bridge above us, like the sound of thunder, as they unleashed a barrage of shells at Torriero’s positions. The soldiers on foot then cleaned up any remaining fighters, before we climbed up to meet them. We marched forward unopposed, through the abandoned security posts, to a row of terraced houses. These were the properties, Keenan told us were accommodation used by their fighters. Inside the buildings it looked like they had been packed in like sardines, with little in way of quality of life. Little D took his first sergeant meeting, as new intel was past down, and further objectives agreed. As we waited, a new anti-tank company joined up with us, The Bombers Battalion, part of The Duke of Lancaster Battalion. When we tried to move out, following Kings Street towards Headrow Road, we were put under fire from the buildings surrounding us. There was row upon row of houses, that disintegrated under machine gun fire, debris soon covering the road. We were ordered to only use tank shells as a last resort, to try and curb the destruction of the city, but it just slowed down our progress. Each building had to be searched and secured, before moving onto the next. Most fighters were in small groups of maybe three or four per building, in most cases, our tactic of shooting out the windows, throwing in grenades as a four man team breached the front door, worked well. We only took a few casualties, and no deaths. It took around five hours to reach the objective, a couple of blocks from Headrow Road, where we were to camp down. We used the houses, vacated by Torriero’s fighters, to sleep. The complete lack of respect shown to the original home owners by Torriero’s men was disgusting, if not altogether unpredictable. Before we went to bed we received a report on the days fighting from Lieutenant Colonel Carter, who confirmed Torriero had lost at least three tanks during the fighting, and approximately a hundred men, which was encouraging considering we were still to hit the bulk of their defences. The Queens Lancers Battalion had made progress along Headrow Road from a westerly direction, forcing Torriero’s army back towards Park Square, while The Rifles Battalion had made similar gains from a easterly direction, towards Albion Street. The Royal Norfolk Battalion had pushed from Woodhouse Lane, but made little headway, finding the bulk of Torriero’s army forcing them back. I had a brief chat with Chapman before we retired for the night, about how his first day had gone with his new company. He seemed to dealing with it well, losing your sergeant only hours after meeting him must be hard for anyone, even if he was a liability.