Die Glocke

by M C Drake

  Nixon sat and listened, he was consumed by the man on television, who called himself Commander Sporrenberg. Who was he and why was he wearing an SS uniform?

  The room was interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Go away, we are not expecting company.” Richard Nixon demanded.

  The door swung open and two armed guards entered, they saluted.

  “Sir two men are here to see you.”

  Nixon flew off the handle, “Are you mad, we are in the middle of the most important meeting to ever happen in these four walls and you two idiots have allowed visitors in here. Get the fuck out. Now!”

  Two ghostly voices echoed out in unison, “Mr. President please calm down. We have arrived here with information on the new threat. We have come to assist you.”

  "And who the hell are you clowns?" J Edgar Hoover said from his chair near the head of the table. The seventy-four-year-old director of the FBI was said to have real influence over the Nixon administration.

  “Mr. Hoover, you know who we are, you have been trying unsuccessfully to track us down for several years now. All you could conclude is that we do exist.”

  J Edgar Hoover leaned forward, “It can’t be.”

  The rest of the room turned to the aging director.

  “Don’t tell me you know who these people are Edgar?” Nixon asked.

  “It can’t be them; you guys are the men in black?” Hoover asked in disbelief.

  The two men in black entered the room; they placed a beige folder down onto the desk.

  "Yes, we are. We don't have time to explain who were are right now but you are going to listen to and adhere to our advice."

  Nixon felt a strange feeling, he felt somehow distant and light headed. He could not stop himself from letting the two strange men take over the meeting. Nixon sat and listened, unable to resist.

  The two men in black took out several photographs and held them up for the room to see.

  “The man you saw on Television today is Jakob Sporrenberg; he was the SS-Gruppenführer in Poland, Belarus, and Lublin. He was believed to have been extradited to Poland after the war and executed on the 12th June 1952."

  The second man in black held up the second picture. "However this is the man who was actually hanged. We believe that the SS had their records changed and the man that was executed was actually Captain Berndt Krause."

  Nobody at the table said a word.

  “We don’t know where Sporrenberg went after the war but clearly he has been planning his operation meticulously. The forces he has gathered appear to be well trained and are much more technologically advanced than our own forces."

  Chief of staff William Westmoreland shook his head, “Where would a former Nazi get the resources to gather such a force, it doesn’t make sense?”

  The men in black showed that awful smirk that they had displayed so many times before.

  “We have asked the very same question ourselves but have so far been unable to come up with an answer. What we do know is this:

  * They have advanced weaponry that fires superheated energy

  * Their soldiers have superior body armor that deflects rounds up to at least .50 caliber

  * They appear to have mechanized armor and an air force. We have only seen evidence to suggest a force of jet fighters but it would be wise to assume they also have a bomber force

  * We have images of what look like modernized Tiger I tanks, the armor looks thicker and better angled but it definitely is modeled on the Panzerkampfwagen VI Tiger Ausf. E blueprint

  * The brief video we collected of the fighter jets show they have the same silhouetted profile as the Me 262 ‘Swallow’ that the Germans pioneered at the end of World War Two

  * All the data points towards the epicenter of this attack to be Wright Patterson Air Force base. This is where you are likely to find the most residence and where Sporrenberg will be commanding his forces.”

  The people in the room just looked at each other in complete disbelief. They looked down at the pictures that were being passed around the room. After a couple of minutes, Secretary of Defense Melvin ‘Bom' Laird looked up and from behind the large bags that had formed under his eyes and asked.

  “What about the nuclear facilities? We need to assume they were captured so they could use them.”

  The men in black shook their heads, “We believe they would have used them already if they were planning to. We think they have captured them to weaken our military options but also as a deterrent to prevent other nations from coming to our aid, we believe they are trying to isolate us.”

  "Dear God," Westmoreland said.

  The other men in the room just looked blankly down at the table.

  "Look gentleman this is what is required. Nixon, you need to contact your Soviet equivalent and brief them. Finish by asking for their help. Then we need to bring all troops back from Vietnam as soon as possible; do you understand?"

  Nixon’s dark eyes narrowed but he nodded.

  The men in black turned to Westmoreland and the other generals, "We need to plan an immediate counter-offensive aimed at Wright Patterson and the surrounding area. We need to stop their forces from spreading.”

  “What about the nuclear facilities?” Hoover asked.

  “Ignore them; if we can encircle their forces then the facilities will be cut off.” The men in black continued, “Finally we need you as a leadership team to split up. If they decide to hot the White House we can’t risk having you all captured or killed in one attack. Nixon and General Abrams you will go to Air Force One.”

  Armed guards entered the room, they saluted the President, “Please come with us now Sir, we have a helicopter waiting.”

  Nixon looked to the men in black suits, they nodded.

  The president and the other men selected followed him out of the room and the guards closed the doors behind them.

  “The rest of you will go down to the emergency bunker here in the White House, we need to get our forces ready ASAP, this needs to be a rapid counteroffensive."

  Control

  Brooklyn Jnr and the men and women of the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise had been held in port for two hours when they returned from the long voyage home. Brooklyn was full of hope and optimism as he was going to try and win his love back. His family had always stood for hard work and always trying your best, never giving up without first trying every possible avenue to success.

  The whole crew was packed like sardines into a large meeting room where they were shown the news footage and accompanying broadcast from Commander Sporrenberg. At first, they thought it was a joke in poor taste but soon they realized this was actually happening and the room went deathly silent.

  After the footage was shown they went straight into a briefing. A huge counter-offensive was planned for 06:00 the following morning. Brooklyn along with all the Phantom pilots was tasked with taking on the enemy fighters, keeping them away from the lumbering B52 bombers who were going to carpet bomb the area; only then would the ground forces advance.

  High command believed the area to be free of civilians as they had likely all been killed by the insidious ‘Aryan’ forces. Wright Patterson was the main target but the Intel was patchy so the Americans had to be prepared to fight for every millimeter of soil.

  Brooklyn and his fellow soldiers were ordered to get as much rest as possible. Tomorrow was not going to be an easy operation and they were going up against the unknown but make no mistake about it, the future of America was in the balance.

  Under no circumstances were they going to be the generation that lets their nation be overrun by an evil force, this was their home and their people and they would not let them down.

  Brooklyn managed to quickly call his mom, he was happy to hear her voice, it always calmed him and she had a great way of making him feel that everything would be alright. She had seen the news reports and was proud that Brooklyn was fighting for his Country and she knew it was in the best hands possible.

/>   Brooklyn Jnr knew his mother had not mentioned everything though, He knew that Hawaii was being prepared as an emergency evacuation site. If the initial counter-offensive failed then as many people as possible would be evacuated. The Aryan forces did not appear to have a Navy so a group of Islands was thought to be the best place to send refugees.

  The men of the brand new Army group Alpha went to their bunks for an uneasy sleep before they had to awake and prepare for what was undoubtedly going to be the hardest mission they had ever undertaken.

  Brooklyn Jnr tossed and turned in his clammy bunk, his palms were sweaty as he had an uneasy dream about Pamela where she disappeared into the darkness.

  Rolling Thunder

  Four long columns of armored vehicles desecrated the chilly morning air with trails of fumes; they were on the approach to the small town of Parkersburg West Virginia. The naturally chilled air created a light covering of mist on this cold morning. The lush green grass was covered in dew.

  The vast majority of the force was made up of the durable and versatile M48 Patton medium tank. The tank was easy to identify by her elongated and stout turret, curved along the sides to aid ballistics protection. The Patton carried a reliable 90mm main gun and her crews loved her because she always performed well when the shit hit the fan.

  Following the Patton's was the small shoebox-shaped M113 armored personnel carriers; they carried eleven troops sat in the main structure behind the two drivers. There were forty of these vehicles in total.

  Formations of Sheridan light tanks had used their excellent mobility to recon ahead and were now waiting for the rest of the vehicles to join them at the rendezvous point in Parkersburg. The light tank crews had reported back that the town was deserted, there was no sign of a disturbance but every house was clearly abandoned.

  The rest of the freshly formed 1st armored division was made up of M163 Vulcan Air Defense systems which had the same base as the M113 but had a powerful 20mm M61 Vulcan Gatling cannon mounted on its frame. The cannon laid down an impressive volume of fire and were great at deterring low flying aircraft.

  The last part of the force was made up of self-propelled artillery pieces. They were going to be positioned in cover further back from the town in case heavy fire support was needed. The support and supply vehicles hung back with a few M48 Patton, who was tasked with guarding the artillery.

  The familiar roar of jet engines echoed from somewhere overhead. A large squadron of F4 Phantoms powered through the clear sky high above the low blanket cover of mist. Their powerful duel engines growled as they burned through copious amounts of fuel.

  Brooklyn Jnr was growing impatient. “Hey Moose how much longer we gonna be circling for anyway?”

  William Morgan ‘Moose’ Morris laughed, “Until the B52’s get into position… or we run outta fuel and fall out of the sky!”

  Brooklyn smiled, “Normally the latter buddy.”

  "Roger that," Moose said.

  “Will you two zip it.” Flight leader Dan Campbell Ordered. "They are in the air and we are to proceed on mission. You lovebirds would have heard that if you hadn't been squawking."

  “Finally!” Brooklyn said as the Phantoms powered up their engines and rocketed overhead high above the armored vehicles.

  The mission clock ticked over to twenty-one minutes as the Phantoms zipped across the Parkersburg town boundary at nineteen thousand feet. They were split into multiple formations of four planes with a total of thirty-two fighter’s; it was an impressive if somewhat nosey scene.

  The B52 bombers were about a mile further back and above at forty thousand feet, long plumes of vapor trailed behind the aircraft in lazy swirls as they passed through the ever brightening sky. The crews of the mighty bombers had conflicting feelings about carpet bombing one of their own bases but they knew there was a job to be done and as the saying went ‘The bomber always gets through.’

  The radio linked to the battlenet crackled into life, “Army group two has encountered resistance just east of Indianapolis… Shots fired… heavy volume of incoming fire…”

  William Marlborough was the commanding officer in charge of the 1st armored division. He was fifty-two and had been semi-retired from the army only to be given command of the armored units due to his impressive exploits in the Korean War and as an advisor in Vietnam.

  The radio crackled again, “Where is our air support?... God damn it we are taking heavy casualties…” An explosion cut off the transmission and was only followed by static.

  “What the hell is going on there?” Marlborough said but nobody answered the question as all hell broke loose. A hail of superheated pink light split through the mist and impacted in the small town.

  “Battle stations!” Marlborough ordered.

  The phantoms could just make out through the mist where the fire was coming from up in their lofty position, Oscar flight were the first four phantoms in the formation and they banked left to line up for a strafing run.

  The Phantoms powered up their huge duel engines and roared towards their first prey of the day, they had no cannons but had two five hundred pound bombs mounted on the wings.

  “1st Armored Division this is Flight leader Steve Harper, in position to bomb targets.”

  "God bless you," Marlborough replied. "Give them hell."

  Harper’s finger hovered a millimeter above the trigger.

  Dan Campbell’s radar intercept officer spoke up, “Contacts five miles out.”

  “How many?”

  “Looks like four Dan.”

  “Roger that, Harper we will cover your bombing run. Falcon flight on me.”

  Brooklyn smiled, “Moose can you get a lock on the lead target?”

  “Working on it bud.”

  The four phantoms of Falcon flight powered forward to engage this new threat. Their radar operators were a picture of absolute concentration as they tried to lock-on the Aim 7 sparrow missiles to surprise the enemy from a distance.

  Flight leader Steve Harper was above his target, he squeezed the trigger and the two bombs left their fixings and tumbled end over end through the mist, a few seconds’ later two loud thumps rang out as two explosions rippled under the low cloud dispersion.

  Oscar two was Harper's wingman, Stuart Walsch was just about to drop his bombs when he noticed the mist below him part, one dark grey-clad jet fighter materialized, followed by another and then another. The three camouflaged fighters flew straight towards the three Phantoms.

  "Shit," Walsch said and pushed hard right on the control stick. The enemy fighters zoomed passed barely a few feet away to the Phantoms left.

  “Shit that was close; can anybody see the grey bogies?”

  “Negative.” Ghost fours radar operator said desperately as he turned his head side to side trying to get a view of the new threat.

  The Aryan fighters swung around almost on a sixpence, they powered their violet glowing engines up and turned at an almost impossible angle to switch their planes around.

  “No fucking way? They are on your six Ghost flight, get out of there.”

  Eight more Phantoms from above joined the fight. “Hold on Ghost flight we have you covered.”

  Stuart Walsch swore again under gritted teeth as superheated plasma washed towards his aircraft, the air around his plane started to crackle and hiss.

  One of the Aryan ME 262’s accelerated even more aggressively and closed the gap to Ghost four.

  "He's right on us Mike if you are going to do something I suggest you do it now!"

  “It’s ok he doesn’t have radar lock yet.”

  “He won’t need it if he gets much closer!”

  The young twenty-three-year-old pilot weaved right then left as he tried to keep his plane out of his enemies’ sights.

  The Aryan fight closed in and its pilot pressed the triggers, a dazzling bright ball of purple sprang forward. Before Ghost four could react the ball smashed into his aircraft which disintegrated a few seconds later; screams filled the
radio for a split second before they were cut off.

  “Ghost four is down repeat Ghost four is down.”

  “Fuck, Ghost two, are you listening? We need to bug out.”

  “Roger that.”

  The two Phantoms opened up the throttle, they were going to use the Phantoms trump card; the brute power of the F4 was enough to get it out of trouble.

  The ME 262’s wingman opened fire and two blinding orbs raced forwards, the lead ME 262 put his plane into a tight roll to avoid the two projectiles.

  The Phantoms behind Ghost flight watched in horror as the two orbs flew towards their comrades like they were heat-seeking missiles. The orbs reined in the two American fighters with ease.

  Seconds later the two Phantoms were consumed by the balls of light and nothing remained but falling debris.

  The Phantoms behind joined the action, revenge was clear in their minds but it was mixed with cold icy fear as it slowly dawned on the pilots that they did not have the superior technology anymore.

  Falcon flight closed in on the four bogies closing in from the East. Suddenly William Morris’s headset growled a sweet, sweet growl. The young American clapped his hands together excitedly.

  “I have Radarlock, Jr.”

  Falcon three immediately moved aside to let Brooklyn have the firing position.

  "Missile away," Jnr said as the Aim 7 Sparrow flew forward leaving a trail of smoke leading away from the Phantom.

  William Morris guided the missile towards the lead bogy that was now just a mile and a half out from their position. The Sleek Sparrow continued straight and true, the ME 262 was now square in its sights.

  The missile disappeared from radar.

  “What happened Moose?”

  “Negative impact, repeat negative impact.”

  “Shit.” Jr said, “Do you still have radar lock?”