and their personnel leaping into action.
"You know this lot need rest, and so do you," Parker whispered in his ear.
It was true. His arm was still sore from the elbow to shoulder.
"We'll rest when we have time to," he replied softly. He then headed for the nearest craft, which the pilot had rather hurriedly hand painted the name 'Maya'. As he got aboard, he turned back to Jones.
"What's our head count?"
"Two hundred and sixty three, if you count the Germans you invited along for the ride. Twenty of those are wounded but still combat effective. All other casualties have been transferred to medical transports heading west."
He nodded in response. He prayed those casualties made it out alive, but he knew none of them were safe, no matter where they went. Taylor opened a direct channel to General White who had clearly been anticipating his contact.
"We're good to go, Sir."
"Glad to hear it, Colonel. We've got reports of multiple incoming vessels to the east. We need to be in Baltimore pronto!"
"We're lifting off presently. Good luck to you, Sir."
"And you, Colonel."
He stepped up to the pilot’s cockpit so he could see everything unfold with his own eyes.
"Take us out."
The engines were already roaring, and they were off the ground almost instantly.
"You know where we're going. Stay low, too many larger vessels prowling the skies. Do not stop or slow down for anything, you hear me?"
"Yes, Sir."
He turned back to the transport bay that was crammed with more troops and ammunition than was ideal. They could barely move over one another.
"Man the guns. Be ready to defend yourselves at all times!"
Parker was the first one to take up position at one of the hull-mounted weapons, and others soon followed suit.
"Why Baltimore?"
Taylor looked down to see Sergeant Lang sitting beside him.
"Baltimore was like a fortress, a bastion in the first war. Layer after layer of bunkers, trenches, and gun emplacements. Like nothing we've ever seen in our lifetimes."
"And it held?"
Taylor took in a breath and shook his head.
"They held a hell off a long time, more than anywhere else on the frontline. Baltimore is a symbol of resistance to Americans, and since the war, it's never really been rebuilt. If we're gonna batten down the hatches and try and make a stand, it's the place to do it."
It was a look of loss and defeat that overcame Lang's face at his words. Even as Taylor was saying them, he knew their situation was dire. They had been in the air for a few minutes, and Taylor was starting to believe they might make it there without incident. It was a moment of hope that would soon be trampled upon.
"Incoming!"
It was the word he had been waiting for and praying would not come. It came from one of the gunners at the starboard side, and Taylor pushed his way through to get a view for himself. As he reached the fixed weapon, the man at it was taking aim. Three ships were incoming that appeared about the size of their own. They were almost in range when dozens of objects started to launch out from the bows of the vessels. Taylor lifted his rifle to use the scope for a better look and instantly recognised the drones as just like those they had been attacked by in France.
"Web rounds!"
He dropped the magazine of his rifle and pulled out the single web round mag with the yellow identification band around its base. As he slammed it in, the gunners on his side opened fire on full auto. Fire was quickly returned, and he could hear impacts peppering the hull like hail on a windshield. As Taylor chambered a round, something impacted on the hull beside the gunner in front of him, and an explosion flashed before them. The gunner was thrown back against him, but Taylor managed to keep the two of them on their feet.
He saw the gun was missing from its mount and had been torn off the ship. The open cabin around it was scorched, and they both realised they were mere centimetres from the deadly missile.
"Too close!" Taylor
"You know this lot need rest, and so do you," Parker whispered in his ear.
It was true. His arm was still sore from the elbow to shoulder.
"We'll rest when we have time to," he replied softly. He then headed for the nearest craft, which the pilot had rather hurriedly hand painted the name 'Maya'. As he got aboard, he turned back to Jones.
"What's our head count?"
"Two hundred and sixty three, if you count the Germans you invited along for the ride. Twenty of those are wounded but still combat effective. All other casualties have been transferred to medical transports heading west."
He nodded in response. He prayed those casualties made it out alive, but he knew none of them were safe, no matter where they went. Taylor opened a direct channel to General White who had clearly been anticipating his contact.
"We're good to go, Sir."
"Glad to hear it, Colonel. We've got reports of multiple incoming vessels to the east. We need to be in Baltimore pronto!"
"We're lifting off presently. Good luck to you, Sir."
"And you, Colonel."
He stepped up to the pilot’s cockpit so he could see everything unfold with his own eyes.
"Take us out."
The engines were already roaring, and they were off the ground almost instantly.
"You know where we're going. Stay low, too many larger vessels prowling the skies. Do not stop or slow down for anything, you hear me?"
"Yes, Sir."
He turned back to the transport bay that was crammed with more troops and ammunition than was ideal. They could barely move over one another.
"Man the guns. Be ready to defend yourselves at all times!"
Parker was the first one to take up position at one of the hull-mounted weapons, and others soon followed suit.
"Why Baltimore?"
Taylor looked down to see Sergeant Lang sitting beside him.
"Baltimore was like a fortress, a bastion in the first war. Layer after layer of bunkers, trenches, and gun emplacements. Like nothing we've ever seen in our lifetimes."
"And it held?"
Taylor took in a breath and shook his head.
"They held a hell off a long time, more than anywhere else on the frontline. Baltimore is a symbol of resistance to Americans, and since the war, it's never really been rebuilt. If we're gonna batten down the hatches and try and make a stand, it's the place to do it."
It was a look of loss and defeat that overcame Lang's face at his words. Even as Taylor was saying them, he knew their situation was dire. They had been in the air for a few minutes, and Taylor was starting to believe they might make it there without incident. It was a moment of hope that would soon be trampled upon.
"Incoming!"
It was the word he had been waiting for and praying would not come. It came from one of the gunners at the starboard side, and Taylor pushed his way through to get a view for himself. As he reached the fixed weapon, the man at it was taking aim. Three ships were incoming that appeared about the size of their own. They were almost in range when dozens of objects started to launch out from the bows of the vessels. Taylor lifted his rifle to use the scope for a better look and instantly recognised the drones as just like those they had been attacked by in France.
"Web rounds!"
He dropped the magazine of his rifle and pulled out the single web round mag with the yellow identification band around its base. As he slammed it in, the gunners on his side opened fire on full auto. Fire was quickly returned, and he could hear impacts peppering the hull like hail on a windshield. As Taylor chambered a round, something impacted on the hull beside the gunner in front of him, and an explosion flashed before them. The gunner was thrown back against him, but Taylor managed to keep the two of them on their feet.
He saw the gun was missing from its mount and had been torn off the ship. The open cabin around it was scorched, and they both realised they were mere centimetres from the deadly missile.
"Too close!" Taylor
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