Time War: Onslaught

by Nick S. Thomas

  "He shook his head, finished his drink, and slid the glass over to the barman for a refill.

  "Maybe, maybe not. Might as well be a game though, winners and losers, a challenge and all that. Whatever, of course it can be done. Anything can be done with a little thought and application of strength in the appropriate place."

  "Well I am glad you are so confident, but you might want to share that confidence with our new buddies. You swept them off their feet today. They don't know how to take any of this."

  "You don't think they can handle it?"

  Vi shrugged.

  "I don't know yet, and neither do they, as they have no idea what they are getting themselves into."

  Corwin took his glass and led her to a corner of the bar where they could sit and talk quietly.

  "Yeah, well they will know soon enough. These people are tougher than you give them credit. They won this war without us first time around, don't forget that," he whispered.

  "I get that, but it was a different war in a different world. That world is gone now."

  "But the people remain the same. Just because we have certain enhancements, do not underestimate these warriors. A few of them have already saved our asses."

  Beyett noticed the two of them talking quietly and walked over to get involved. Beyond him several of them could be seen playing a game of billiards and chatting in the opposite side of the room. Porter and Harland were at the bar. Close enough to talk, but ignoring one another in favour of hard liquor.

  "So are you going to share any of the plan with us or keep it a secret?" Beyett took a seat beside them.

  "Where we go isn't up to us, right now. We are just waiting on the intel to come back. All we can do for now is prepare. Get our gear together. Equip appropriately and make sure this team works as smoothly as it can."

  "You always said we worked alone, and yet now you bring outsiders in. Not only to help, but to fight alongside us. What has changed?"

  Corwin took a deep breath, another sip, and then sat back, propping his feet up on the table. The barkeep looked pained by the sight, but Corwin just smiled back and lifted his beer in salute.

  "What has changed? I would have thought that was obvious. We used to operate in wastelands, deserts, and empty jungles. We were like hunters in sparse lands, and look where we are now. The numbers we used to know are pathetic compared to this. We need help, and I am not ashamed to admit it."

  "Good, then I am glad."

  "Really? Some of the others don't seem to share your positive view," replied Corwin, pointing to Porter and Harland.

  "Fuck 'em. Miserable bastards. We need 'em, don't have to like 'em."

  Hotwell stepped into the bar and looked around for a moment before finally approaching and sitting with the three of them.

  "Everything is prepared," he stated.

  Beyett looked confused.

  "What have you been up to?"

  "Getting the ball rolling. We may not know where to go yet, but we can at least get this unit into fighting shape."

  He threw back his beer so that it was almost downed in one and leapt to his feet.

  "I suggest you get some sleep, 0700 hours tomorrow on the parade ground. Today we are a group of strangers that came together by chance. But tomorrow we become a team."

  Beyett smiled. The answer had been vague, but it interested and entertained him.

  "Lecia!" Corwin yelled.

  She was already at the door waiting for him.

  "Yes, Boss?" she asked, casually leaning against the door as if she had been there all along.

  Corwin smiled as he strode out of the bar with her and into the cool dark air outside. They walked for a minute without a word. There was not a vehicle in sight, or any lights. Lights flashed far off into the distance to the south and east where German bombing raids struck the towns and cities around them.

  "Train them all you like, but they'll never be the calibre we are," she said.

  "You think I am diluting our abilities?"

  "I do. They aren't one of us. None of them are or ever will be. Not even Captain Hotwell."

  "Yeah, well diluting or not, we can't always get what we want. What I want is a thousand A.P.E.S. to lead into Germany and take Villiers’ head, and Hitler's after that. But I can't have that. We make do, we improvise."

  She shook her head.

  "Why don't we just do what we always do? Slip into enemy territory and start working our magic as we always have done. Why do we have to change?"

  "Because the world around us has changed. Remember how we used to operate, even when things were at their worst? Remember Sohag valley?"

  She nodded wearily.

  "Even when all shit hit the fan. When we had fucked up and left a trail that led an army to our door. Even then we somehow shot our way out, but that was a hundred soldiers we fought through. If the same thing happens out there now, it might be a hundred, or two hundred, or a thousand. Do you really appreciate the kind of numbers we are dealing with? Think we could take on a division? How about an armoured division?"

  "Then we avoid them. We infiltrate and lay low. Work our way in slow."

  "In a densely populated country, where we don't speak the language, and stand out a mile away?" he asked, shaking his head, "We are going in there, believe me, but we are going to do it right."

  "And how long will that take? Seems like things are going downhill rapidly, how much longer can we leave Villiers? How long until it is too long and he is unstoppable? Even if we killed him now, do you think the Allies could win the war?"

  Corwin groaned.

  "Honestly, I don't know anymore. All I know is no matter what Villiers must be dealt with. The rest of the Axis powers, should we even intervene with that any more than we have?"

  "Fuck yes. We brought Villiers here. He is our problem, and if the Nazis are now winning the war because of him, then that is our problem, too."

  Corwin was shocked.

  "I had no idea you had thought this through so much."

  "Never assume because somebody isn't talking that they aren't listening and thinking."

  "Fair enough."

  "So where to? I thought you wanted some rest before morning."

  "I suggested it was a good idea, but when have we ever done what we should do?"

  She smiled as she followed.

  * * *

  Hotwell looked at his watch. It was 0700 hours and the only ones there were the British contingent. Not one of Corwin's Luckers was to be seen.

  "What is this?" Travers asked.

  "You'll have to forgive the Captain and his people. They aren't the most prompt, but they are worth the wait."

  The two recon car crews were slumped over their Humber light recon cars, awaiting the Captain at the side of the parade square. Despite the paint damage from small arms fire, they were spotless. The sound of engines approaching caught their attention, and they got up just in time to see six jeeps roll into view. They each had armoured windshields and tombstone plates, as well as long-range fuel tanks and twin machine guns mounted front and rear. Corwin drove the lead vehicle, with Lecia sprawled out in the passenger seat, one foot hanging casually out of the side of the vehicle. They rolled onto the parade ground at speed until finally Corwin slammed on the brakes, and they slid to a halt in front of Hotwell and the others.

  "You do know this is a parade ground?" Hotwell asked.

  Corwin shrugged as he leapt out.

  "Morning!" he yelled.

  The others rolled to a halt in a messy formation that looked as if the jeeps had simply been abandoned on the ground.

  "Everyone gather round!"

  The Brits were taken aback by his informal approach, but they obliged. As they did so, two men stepped out from a nearby building with trays full of tin mugs with piping hot tea and handed them out.

  "Will that be all, Captain?" asked one of the men as he handed Corwin a mug.

  "Yes, thank you," he replied.

  Hotwell smiled
when he realised it was all Corwin's doing. He was breaking the ice and doing it well.

  "First things first. Those beasts have got to go," he said, pointing to the armoured cars behind Travers. The crews looked aghast, but he went on before they had time to protest.

  "Don't get me wrong. Your trucks rock, and could we take them where we are going, we would. Fact is we are going in by air, and therefore we are limited by what the aircraft fuselage can fit and what the aircraft can lift. When we operate back here on home soil, you can use 'em, and I have been assured by the base commander that they will be stored and maintained correctly."

  "Sir, if I may?"

  "You may not, Sergeant. Whatever protest you might have will be wasted, so let's move forward?"

  Travers begrudgingly accepted.

  "These jeeps were modified for British airborne forces and provide a good base for what we want. Today is Tuesday. We have until Friday to get them to the specification we want, and then we go in."

  "We have enough intel to start the operation?" Hotwell asked.

  "Nope, but weather conditions are perfect, for what we need at least. Rain, cloud cover, and generally poor visibility are the best conditions we can hope for."

  "Providing those conditions don't kill us on the way in," replied Travers.

  "Well I'd rather take our chances with weather than the Luftwaffe," Hotwell added, and Corwin agreed with him.

  "Porter, you used to work on this kind of tech and old cars, didn't you?"

  "Yeah."

  "Then this is your chance to make us the machines we need. Those who have the knowhow amongst you can help, and I have been assured we will have ten mechanics and a workshop to work from within the hour, so follow me."

  He leapt back into his vehicle and started the engine. The others jumped into the rest to follow. They made their way across the base and further out from the billets until they reached a workshop building. It was empty, and the crews awaiting them. Corwin drove his vehicle in through the front doors and jumped out as it drew to a close. The rest circled in around him.

  "Travers, you any good with mechanics?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  He noticed Badcock looking through shelves of component parts as if enthralled by what he saw. He looked eager to get stuck in. Corwin continued.

  "So here it is. You have three days to make these vehicles the best they can be. Stay within the size restrictions we have been given, and all will be good. Weapons and ammo are a priority, power and armour, anything you can get us."

  "This is it? Vehicle mods? What about training?"

  "We are all warriors, Travers, and I have seen you in combat. You have the skills you need. All that can be learnt now is by working together when the time comes. I'll see you in three days."

  Harland, Lecia, Frasi, and Hotwell left with him as they walked out on foot. Corwin turned back for just a moment in surprise to see Chas getting stuck in amongst the tools.

  "I'll never understand that one," he said.

  "None of us will," replied Lecia.

  "So what can we do now?"

  "Draw up an itinerary of everything we need and make sure it gets to us. You ever been out in the field for any prolonged length of time?"

  Hotwell shook his head.

  "We take only what is essential and what will keep us alive short term. After that, we make do with what is to hand. That goes for weapons, vehicles, clothing, ammunition, everything. If you can somehow get us resupplied, then great, but we can't rely on it. Once we are over there, we are on our own."

  "When you say we, where do you want me?"

  Corwin laughed.

  "Don't worry, Captain, we still need eyes and ears back home. You'll stay put and ensure we get all the help we can. Above all, you will keep looking for Villiers. That's the deal."

  * * *

  Once again Corwin found himself lounging about the same pub that had become like a new home for them. Only Lecia was with him; the others were still busy going about their business or otherwise occupied.

  "All that fuss to build those vehicles, you make it sound like they will tip the balance," she said.

  "Maybe they will."

  "Don't give me that. In a few days we are jumping into the fire amongst the greatest concentration of enemy forces we have ever known. We're taking fresh recruits with us, and we haven't even begun their training."

  Corwin nodded his head.

  "And what do you think we could achieve in a few days?"

  "Something more than they know now."

  Corwin shook his head.

  "They aren't fresh just because we don't know them. They are each trained and proficient, and lord knows they now have some experience. It's unavoidable when you hang around us."

  "So that's it? We just go in as is and hope?"

  "Pretty much. What they needed more than anything for now was something to put their minds to rest. Something to work on together, and that is exactly what I have provided."

  "And behind enemy lines, any vehicles we take could be lost within a day, or before we even arrive."

  "It's entirely possible," he replied casually.

  "I don't get you at all."

  "You don't have to get me. You just have to follow me."

  She sighed, sat back angrily, and sighed again even more loudly just to make a point. He realised he couldn't leave it be.

  "Look, they need something to set their minds to. This does the job, and might just be useful to us, okay?"

  She finally nodded in acceptance and eased up a little.

  "Got to say I never thought I would be the one putting a bullet in Hitler's head."

  "So sure it will be you?"

  "Of course," she replied with a wicked and confident smile.

  "Yeah, well if you ever get that shot, you don't hesitate, you hear?"

  "Trust me, I won't."

  "What's your history like? You know who and what Hitler really was? Or is now, I guess."

  "I’ve got an idea. He was a monster, and I know any good person would not hesitate to save the world from him. I will show no mercy, don't worry."

  They both went silent and took solace in their drinks for a moment.

  "You know maybe we shouldn't be out in public like this?"

  "Why, worried what they think of you?" asked Corwin, as he pointed to a group of soldiers on the other side of the bar.

  "I don't give a damn who thinks what about me. We have already been targeted once. Captain Howell said enemy agents are everywhere, and I am inclined to believe him. Should we really risk being discovered once more?"

  Corwin shrugged as he finished his glass and then slammed it down.

  "I just don't care anymore. In a few days time it won't matter."

  "So we just be careless and hope for the best?"

  "Something like that, but for the time being, I'm more concerned with not going crazy."

  He slid his glass across the table and lay back with a groan.

  "Okay, okay," he said as he got up.

  "Don't go on my account. You stick to your guns, why don’t you?"

  "No, no, you are right. Come on, let's get out of here."

  She got up and followed him out. He threw the door open, long enough for her to get through behind him without being seen to be holding it for her.

  "You happy now?"

  They walked through the dark country lane.

  "Yes, I have you to myself."

  * * *

  The days of preparation passed quickly, and on Friday morning Corwin, Hotwell, and Lecia stood before the workshop building where they had left the others. They had not seen them for the three days. The doors were shut and not a single sound emanated from inside. Footsteps approached from the rear, and they turned with anticipation, but it was only Harland.

  "Think they died in there?" he asked them.

  He smiled at them as if he wanted it to happen, but as he came to a standstill beside them, the doors began to creak loudly and to open.
As they parted the first few feet, one of the jeeps became visible. He could already tell it was barely recognisable from the vehicles they had driven in, but all the work that had been carried out was concealed under a fresh olive drab and black camouflage paint scheme.

  The doors kept drawing back, and each vehicle came into view, and identical to the first. The hoods were longer, and armoured grills jutted out over the front bumpers that looked like they had been taken from halftracks. The armoured plates and crescent shaped armoured windscreens that had been there before remained. But new armoured sections rose up the side of the hubs to protect the extra fuel tanks. They had been mounted with a Browning M2 50 calibre machine gun in the back.

  Two Vickers guns remained for the passenger, but Boys anti-tank rifles had been mounted on a wing side mount for the driver to use. Two bazookas were mounted down the length of the body on top of the fuel tanks, and crates of ammunition strapped down in such quantity the hoods weren't visible at all. Badcock sat in the centre vehicle and fired up the engine. The vehicle roared to life, and muscular growls echoed around the workshop before the rear wheels spun, and the jeep powered around and slid to a halt before them. Badcock was smiling like a kid at Christmas.

  "That ain't stock," said Corwin.

  "Hell, no, Captain, flathead V8s, almost double the power those four pots were kicking out. Enough to carry the extra weight, and make sure we get where we need to in good time."

  He seemed so excited by the prospect of taking the vehicle to war that Corwin did not have the heart to break his bubble and explain how bad it was going to get. He walked around the jeep. A large storage rack had been added to the rear armour and housed two spare wheels, as well as several cans of fuel, water, and more space for ammunition.

  "You intend to be out there for some time, then?"

  "That's what you told us, Captain. As long as is necessary to get the job done."

  The doors were fully open now, and the other vehicles were firing up and driving out of the shop. It was then he noticed one of the six was radically different to the others. An extra axle had been installed and an anti-tank gun fitted to the chassis.

  "What on earth is that? You want to destroy whole fucking towns?"