World War III

by Heath Jannusch

Arriving at the doctor’s house a moment later, Shiloh dismounted and tied the reins around a white picket fence. He ran inside and found Mason sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the monitor in front of him.

  “Your six is clear Rabbit,” he announced, into the radio gripped in his hand. “Firefly, be advised soldiers are deploying into the pastures surrounding the convoy, over.”

  “Copy Briar Patch, I see them, over.”

  Shiloh looked at the screen and could see the Marines speeding toward Clearview. A few miles behind, the enemy convoy was stopped dead in their tracks, with the Firefly circling above. “So it’s begun,” he mumbled, watching the fighter soar above the convoy, pelting them with bullets and dropping Molotov Cocktails.

  Mason glanced at Shiloh and said. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. Is everyone ready?”

  Before he could respond the door swung open and Cleo entered, with Ian at her side.

  “How long have we got?” Asked Ian, gazing at the monitor and the battle being waged a few miles away.

  “Not long,” replied Mason, “thirty minutes at the most. It depends on how long the Firefly can keep them pinned down. Is everything ready?”

  “Almost,” replied Ian. “We’re still digging a few pitfalls on the west side of town and coating the field with motor oil and gasoline.”

  “Is everyone in position?” Asked Shiloh.

  “I’ll see to it,” said Ian, spinning on his heels and hurrying from the house. “Keep me posted on their twenty!” He added, before stepping outside into the morning sun.

  “I’ll help,” offered Shiloh, turning and following him outside.

  “Move that roadblock!” Ordered Ian, when he saw the Marine Convoy turn onto Main Street and head straight for them.

  The men guarding the town’s western entrance, immediately did as told and moved the large columbine tractor blocking the road. The armored vehicles drove through the opening without slowing their speed and pulled to a stop in front of the jailhouse.

  Lt. Sawyer jumped from the lead Humvee, his boots hitting the ground before the vehicle had come to a stop. “They’re right behind us!” He shouted, when he saw Shiloh and Ian running toward him.

  “I know,” said Ian. “We need to get these vehicles off the street. They’ll be sitting ducks and we may need them.”

  “Agreed!” Lt. Sawyer turned and shouted, “Sgt. Powell!”

  “Yes sir!” The Sergeant came running from the rear of the column, as Marines emerged from armored vehicles and filed into the jailhouse in search of ammo.

  “I want these vehicles off the street and out of sight,” ordered the Lieutenant. “Position them on the eastside of town.”

  “Yes sir!” The Sergeant selected a handful of Marines, before climbing into the lead Humvee.

  “I’ve got most the volunteers positioned on the frontline, west of town,” said Ian, holding a hand-drawn map, for the Lieutenant to see. “Can you and your men hold our flank, here?” He asked, pointing to a spot on the eastside of town.

  “You’re damn straight we can. Sergeant Morgan!” Shouted Lt. Sawyer.

  “Yes sir!” Said Jesse, emerging from the jailhouse, with fresh clips of ammo in his hand.

  “Once the men are rearmed, deploy them to ditches on the eastside of town,” ordered the Lieutenant, indicating a spot on the map.

  “Yes sir!” Sgt. Morgan spun on his heels and started shouting orders.

  *******

  “Briar Patch, Briar Patch, this is Firefly, we’re running low on fuel and ammo, over.”

  “Roger that Firefly. What’s your turnaround ETA, over?”

  “Approximately thirty minutes.” Kye put the fighter into a barrel role to avoid enemy fire, before veering north. “Also, be advised the enemy has split into two separate convoys. One headed south toward Minden and Gardnerville and the larger force headed north toward you. They’ll be on your doorstep before our return, over.”

  “Copy that, I’ll pass the word,” said Mason. “We’ll hold as long as we can, but we’re gonna need air support, over.”

  “Roger Briar Patch. We’ll refuel and rearm as quickly as possible, over and out.”

  “Attention all stations this net, this is Briar Patch relaying message from Firefly. Enemy convoy has split into two separate forces, one headed south and one headed north. Expect enemy contact any moment. Everyone to their positions! I repeat, enemy contact is imminent, everyone to their positions, over and out!”

  Looking at Clearview from a bird’s-eye view, Mason watched as thousands of people ran in different directions, hurrying to their designated positions. Some headed for the clinic and some for the forest, while others scurried up ladders to the rooftops of taller buildings. Most of the men piled into ditches surrounding the small town. Hunkering behind sandbags, they watched and waited for the enemy to arrive. They didn’t have to wait long.

  From his lookout position in the church steeple, Billy began ringing the warning bell. “They’re here!” He shouted, pointing southwest.

  Watching the convoy on his laptop, Mason saw one of the tanks pull out of formation and come to a stop. Its turret began to rotate until it was pointed directly at the church steeple, where Billy stood ringing the bell.

  “Lookout, this is Briar Patch, you’ve got an enemy tank sighting in on your location. You need to get out of there, over!”

  The resonating sound from the bell made it impossible for Billy to hear Mason’s warning and unaware of the danger, he continued ringing the bell.

  “Damn it! He can’t hear me,” said Mason, glancing up at Cleo.

  “I’ll get him,” she said, turning and sprinting from the house.

  Mason continued calling Billy on the radio, but it was no use. He watched helplessly, as the tank’s cannon barrel rose slightly and flame belched from its muzzle, sending a shell straight for the church steeple.

  Billy saw Cleo running toward him, waving and shouting, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He stopped ringing the bell for a moment and cupped his hand to his ear. “What?” He shouted back.

  The radio clipped to his belt suddenly came alive and he heard Mason yelling, “…tank! Get out of there!”

  Billy glanced to his right and saw the tank, a split second before it fired. Without stopping to think, he dove headfirst through the small opening on the steeple floor and fell to the church below. He felt heat from an explosion as the shell exploded into the steeple, sending splintered wood in every direction.

  He landed on the floor with a thud and heard a loud snap, as broken pieces of wood and chards of glass, rained down on top of him. When the ringing in his ears finally subsided, he realized someone was screaming. After a moment, Billy realized he was the one screaming. Although he’d been lucky enough to survive the explosion and avoid becoming impaled by falling debris, the fall had taken its toll. His leg was broken and a jagged piece of bone, protruded from the skin.

  Realizing he was all alone, Billy stopped screaming. He grabbed his thigh above the break and squeezed, trying to stop the bleeding. Using a nearby pew for support, he tried to stand, but screamed and fell to the floor, as pain shot through his leg and into his foot.

  “I’m here Billy!” Yelled Cleo, entering the church and climbing over piles of rubble to reach him.

  “I think my leg is broken,” he cried out. “I can’t stand.”

  “You think it’s broken?” Asked Cleo, looking down at the exposed bone and grimacing. “I can’t believe you tried to stand on that! Wait here and don’t move,” she instructed.

  Cleo turned and rummaged through the wreckage, before finding a door that had blown off its hinges. “We’ll use this for a stretcher,” she said, lying the door on the floor beside Billy. “I’ll support your leg, while you slide on top, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Billy, bracing himself for pain.

  “On three mate. One, two, three!”

  With Cleo’s help, Billy slid onto the door, trying desperately not to show pain
in front of her.

  “Perfect!” Using some rope, Cleo strapped Billy to the door, before fastening another end to the doorknob. “Ready?” She asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, gripping the door with both hands.

  Cleo dragged Billy out of the church and down Main Street toward the clinic. When she arrived, she kicked open the door. “I need some help out here!” She yelled.

  Jessie and Kati hurried from the clinic and helped Cleo drag Billy inside. With help from Dr. July, they lifted him onto the operating table and watched, as the doctor ripped open his pants.

  “Looks like you’re our first wounded,” he said, examining the splintered bone.

  With his pants torn and his underwear exposed, Billy’s face turned bright red. “Doc, is there any way we can do this in private?” He asked, glancing at three women standing behind the doctor.

  Dr. July smiled. “Of course,” he said, ushering the women from the room.

  “Thanks for your help, Cleo!” Shouted Billy, before the doctor closed the door and continued his examination.

  “How is he?” Asked Mason, when Cleo returned.

  “Broken leg,” she said, glancing at the monitor. “What are they waiting for?”

  The convoy of armored vehicles had spread out in a long line, facing the small town. Behind them, thousands of battle-hardened troops stood poised and ready for an attack.

  “I’m not sure,” admitted Mason. “Maybe they’re sizing us up. You’d better get to your position.”

  “Right. Good luck mate!” Cleo turned and headed for the library.

  *******

  “How many do you reckon there are?” Asked Ian, peering over the sandbags, from his position in the ditch west of town.

  “I don’t know,” replied Shiloh, looking at the enemy through binoculars. “Mason estimated around one hundred thousand, but that was before the convoy split in two. Maybe half that now?”

  “That’s still too many,” mumbled Ian.

  Suddenly and without warning, enemy tanks and artillery guns began firing on Clearview. The shells whistled through the air and detonated on Main Street, destroying homes and buildings alike. People scrambled for shelter, with the blasts reverberating around them.

  “We can’t withstand this shelling much longer!” Shouted Ian, as an artillery shell exploded behind him in a ball of flame.

  “I know!” Agreed Shiloh, watching enemy soldiers spread out in attack formation.

  “Should we fire back?” Asked Mayor Sullivan, hunkered down next to them.

  “No,” answered Ian, “they’re out of range! It’d be a waste of ammo and give away our position! We need to draw them in closer!”

  “I’ve got an idea!” Shiloh shouted, over the barrage of artillery shells. “Wait here and hold your fire! I’m gonna try and lure them in!”

  Climbing out of the ditch, he darted across Main Street, artillery shells exploding around him. He was halfway across the road, when a shell exploded in the street behind him. The burst threw him violently to the ground, where he lay motionless.

  Seeing his best friend lying in the middle of the road, Ian sprang to his feet. He was about to run to Shiloh’s aid, but stopped when he began to stir.

  Shiloh crawled to his feet and shook his head, trying to stop the ringing. Still a little shaken, he continued across the street and into the church.

  “What’s he gonna do now?” Asked Luke, watching Shiloh disappear into the burning building. “Pray us out of this mess?”

  “Oh ye of little faith,” replied Rupert, pumping a round into his shotgun.

  As suddenly as it had begun, the shelling miraculously stopped and the morning became eerily quiet. Shiloh emerged from the church and in a crouched run, returned to his position beside Ian. Peaking over the sandbags, he saw enemy soldiers advancing on the town.

  “What happened?” Asked Lenny, hiding beneath a school bus.

  “Yeah?” Added Richie, lying beside him. “What did you do?”

  “Look!” Screamed Luke, using his good arm to point at a white flag, dangling from the church flagpole. “How is surrendering going to help?”

  “We aren’t surrendering,” explained Shiloh. “It’s a trap! Hold your fire until I give the word,” he announced, into his handheld radio. “I hope they care enough not to fire while their troops are on the battlefield,” he mumbled, softly.

  “Yeah,” agreed Ian. “Either way, good thinking!” He chambered a round in his rifle.

  “Well would you look at that,” said Shiloh, watching the enemy’s advance.

  “What is it?” Asked Ian, scanning the approaching troops.

  “Cody Hyde,” replied Shiloh, remembering his encounter with the man in Mound House. “He’s consorting with the enemy!”

  It took Ian a minute to locate the traitor. He was standing with a group of officers on a hillside, overlooking the town. “Why that son of a bitch!”

  “He’ll get his,” said Shiloh, watching the advancing troops. “Get ready!” He waited until the enemy was halfway across the field, before yelling “Fire!”

  Gunfire erupted from the ditches surrounding town, as civilians opened fire on the unsuspecting soldiers. Surprised and caught in the open, the enemy dropped to the ground and returned fire.

  Hundreds of armored vehicles immediately advanced onto the field, providing cover for the soldiers pinned down. After a few minutes the troops began to slowly advance, using the armored support for protection.

  “Our bullets are bouncing off their armor!” Shouted Mayor Sullivan.

  “Just a little further!” Yelled Ian. He held the radio to his mouth and said, “Squirrel, calling Bluebird. Are you in position, over?”

  “This is Bluebird. We’re ready, over.” Cleo turned and looked at the men and women standing behind her, armed with bow and arrows. “Get ready to lite ‘em up!” She shouted, dipping an arrow into a bucket of gasoline and soaking the rag, wrapped around its tip.

  The small group of volunteers huddled around the bucket and soaked their arrow tips in the fuel. Once everyone’s arrow had been soaked, Cleo raised her hand and yelled, “Ready!”

  They formed a line and loaded their arrows, while Shannon ran by, lighting the tips with a torch.

  “Aim!” Cleo raised her crossbow, aiming at the field west of town. The small group did likewise, pointing their flaming arrows into the air.

  When the field was covered with enemy troops and armored vehicles, Ian called into the radio. “Now Bluebird! Now!”

  “Fire!” Yelled Cleo, squeezing the trigger on her crossbow.

  From their position on top of the library, the small group loosed their arrows, shooting them high into the air. Dozens of flaming arrows streaked across the sky, landing on the field west of town. A few arrows struck soldiers and lit them on fire, while others bounced off armored vehicles and fell to the ground, igniting the mixture of gasoline and oil. Within seconds the field became a fiery inferno.

  Screaming from the scorching pain, the enemy frantically fled in every direction. Many troops turned to retreat, only to become engulfed by the flames surrounding them. Others became victims of their own armored vehicles, as drivers, blinded by smoke, rolled over comrades attempting to escape. Those closest to Clearview ran for town, preferring the chance of getting shot to the certainty of burning alive.

  Fleeing blindly across the battlefield, many soldiers and vehicles fell helplessly into the large, hidden pitfalls. Fire belched from the pits and rose high into the air, silencing their screams, as they perished in the blazing inferno. Flames ignited ammo inside the vehicles and a series of thunderous explosions shook the ground.

  The Commander of the Communist Muslim Coalition immediately responded, ordering his artillery to commence firing. A barrage of shells whistled across the field, raining carnage on the small town.

  Looking through binoculars, Shiloh saw Cody Hyde consulting with the Commander. Holding a map in one hand, he pointed toward Clearview’s jailhouse. The
Commander turned and said something to a subordinate officer, who in turn relayed the order to a soldier, operating a radio.

  A second later, Shiloh noticed one of the tank turrets turn and fire. The shell flew across the battlefield and smashed into the jailhouse, igniting the town’s armory in a deafening roar.

  “That traitorous son of a bitch!” Shouted Ian, before ordering a few men to drop back and salvage what ammo they could.

  *******

  “Rabbit, this is Briar Patch. Come in, over?”

  “I read you Briar Patch, over!”

  “I’ve got movement in the forest east of your position,” said Mason, staring at his monitor. “We’re about to be flanked, over.”

  “Copy Briar Patch, over and out! Do you see anything?” Asked Lt. Sawyer, looking at the tree line one hundred yards away.

  “Nothing,” said Sgt. Morgan, peering through the scope on his rifle. “Wait a minute. There!” He said, pointing straight ahead.

  Lt. Sawyer scanned the tree line, searching for any sign of movement. “Where?” He asked. “I don’t see anything.”

  The Sergeant was about to reply, when a man’s shrill scream broke the silence.

  “What was that?” Asked Pvt. Malarkey, lying in the ditch beside the Lieutenant.

  Another man screamed and began cursing in a foreign language.

  “Sounds like someone stepped in a bear trap,” grinned Sgt. Morgan.

  “Get ready!” Ordered the Lieutenant, as a handful of soldiers emerged from the tree line and started across the field.

  Sgt. Morgan took aim at the closest soldier and drew a bead on his forehead.

  “Hold your fire!” Ordered Lt. Sawyer, allowing the unit to continue their advance.

  “They’d be easy pickings,” whispered Pvt. Malarkey, watching the soldiers draw closer.

  “They’re just scouts,” whispered Sgt. Morgan. “The main force is still concealed behind the trees.” He’d no sooner finished speaking, when thousands of troops emerged from the forest and started marching across the field.

  “My God!” Hissed Pvt. Malarkey. “There’s too many!”