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.“And the evacuation?”It had seemed as if everyone in Britain had wanted to flee the Russians; after CNN had broadcast some of the reports from occupied Europe, it was hard to blame them.The ports had been crammed with people wanting to flee, to get away somewhere, anywhere; there had even been more rioting as the fate of European Muslims under the Russians became clear.Langford had had to quell some of the riots with extreme force and ignore others; the only priority was to fight the final battle.If they could smash the Russian Army when it landed…“The personnel marked for evacuation have been dispatched to the ports,” Erica assured him.They had given priority to the relatives of serving soldiers and policemen; the police, in particular, had done wonderful work.There was something of the old determination and ethos left in them after all; Langford only wished that it hadn’t taken a war and a threatened invasion to bring it to the fore.A handful of technical experts had been dispatched as well; the Americans had been insistent, once they had realised that the Russians were starting the long process of renovating the European technical base and using it for their own benefit.“Everything will be handled smoothly.”“I hope you’re right,” Langford said.The American satellite data was buzzing up new warnings; the Russian transport fleet had set out to sea and Russian missiles were being launched towards targets on the ground.“I’ll see you again soon.”“God willing,” Erica said.They had become friends in the terrible two months; he wished that he had known her before the war had begun.“For what it’s worth, sir, it was a honour to serve with you.”***Clutching their weapons, they waited all along the line; some confident, some nervous, some anticipating the moment when they would come to grips with the enemy.For some of them, it was their first shot at real combat; many of them had escaped being sent to the Sudan.For others, it was the chance to avenge fallen comrades and even the score a little before there could be peace.They took their positions with care and forethought, hiding from the bombers they knew would soon be high overhead; it wouldn’t be long before they discovered if they were brave soldiers, or cowards.No one knew until they came face to face with the elephant.Some said their final prayers as they braced themselves; Christian, Muslim, Jew, Hindu…united at last in defiance against the common foe.Others only waited for it all to begin.History was moving around them…In Dover, Folkestone and a dozen smaller towns and villages, smaller detachments lurked.They had prepared the docks to surprise the Russians as best as they could; now they waited for the Russians to come within range of their weapons.They had prepared the towns and buildings for house-to-house fighting; the Russians would be forced to dig them out one by one if they wanted the towns.Many of them had sworn terrible oaths; the Russians would have to kill them all at their posts before they took the places they were defending.Further back, mobile artillery and other systems waited, holding fire only until they had targets to service.The crews checked their vehicles carefully; they had seen all of the data from the handful of heavy battles the Russians had fought in Europe, and the Battle of Lorraine had made it clear; the Russians would hammer them into the ground as soon as they detected their fire and localised their position.They had prepared to move as soon as the Russians found them; they were determined that they would make the Russians pay a price for invading their country.Direct feeds to a hundred hidden soldiers, lurking near possible landing zones, lit up; all they needed now was targeting data, targets to destroy.It wouldn’t be long now.All along the line, they waited.***“I have a direct lock on seven heavy enemy transports,” the weapons officer snapped, as the Winston Churchill evaded a missile from a Russian aircraft with ease.The Russians had concentrated most of their efforts on suppressing the land defences over the past few weeks and it showed; the Royal Navy had enough time to muster its final stand.“Captain; request permission to open fire.”Captain Ward nodded slowly.The fighting was taking its toll…because they didn’t dare head any closer to the Russian-held coastline.The Winston Churchill had grown up in a world where missiles and guided-bombs presented a serious threat to ships…and no ship in existence, with the exception of the really big carriers, could survive a single hit with a heavy warhead.Her class might have been designed as the closest thing the European Union had intended to a battleship, but her armour was puny compared to that of the battleships that had last contested the Channel, back in 1940.“Engage the enemy,” he said, as the first of the sea-skimming cruise missiles started to launch.The Churchill normally carried twenty-four; the battles had drained their stocks down to nine, and seven of them had just been launched against moving enemy transports.He understood the logic – without the transports, the Russians would be unable to land their army – but they had a lot of transports.Had they commandeered every last civilian ship in Europe? There had been hundreds of ships, many of them registered under different flags; had all of them been brought to land soldiers on British soil? “Air defence?”“Four enemy bombers, heading towards the fleet’s location,” the air defence officer reported [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.“And the evacuation?”It had seemed as if everyone in Britain had wanted to flee the Russians; after CNN had broadcast some of the reports from occupied Europe, it was hard to blame them.The ports had been crammed with people wanting to flee, to get away somewhere, anywhere; there had even been more rioting as the fate of European Muslims under the Russians became clear.Langford had had to quell some of the riots with extreme force and ignore others; the only priority was to fight the final battle.If they could smash the Russian Army when it landed…“The personnel marked for evacuation have been dispatched to the ports,” Erica assured him.They had given priority to the relatives of serving soldiers and policemen; the police, in particular, had done wonderful work.There was something of the old determination and ethos left in them after all; Langford only wished that it hadn’t taken a war and a threatened invasion to bring it to the fore.A handful of technical experts had been dispatched as well; the Americans had been insistent, once they had realised that the Russians were starting the long process of renovating the European technical base and using it for their own benefit.“Everything will be handled smoothly.”“I hope you’re right,” Langford said.The American satellite data was buzzing up new warnings; the Russian transport fleet had set out to sea and Russian missiles were being launched towards targets on the ground.“I’ll see you again soon.”“God willing,” Erica said.They had become friends in the terrible two months; he wished that he had known her before the war had begun.“For what it’s worth, sir, it was a honour to serve with you.”***Clutching their weapons, they waited all along the line; some confident, some nervous, some anticipating the moment when they would come to grips with the enemy.For some of them, it was their first shot at real combat; many of them had escaped being sent to the Sudan.For others, it was the chance to avenge fallen comrades and even the score a little before there could be peace.They took their positions with care and forethought, hiding from the bombers they knew would soon be high overhead; it wouldn’t be long before they discovered if they were brave soldiers, or cowards.No one knew until they came face to face with the elephant.Some said their final prayers as they braced themselves; Christian, Muslim, Jew, Hindu…united at last in defiance against the common foe.Others only waited for it all to begin.History was moving around them…In Dover, Folkestone and a dozen smaller towns and villages, smaller detachments lurked.They had prepared the docks to surprise the Russians as best as they could; now they waited for the Russians to come within range of their weapons.They had prepared the towns and buildings for house-to-house fighting; the Russians would be forced to dig them out one by one if they wanted the towns.Many of them had sworn terrible oaths; the Russians would have to kill them all at their posts before they took the places they were defending.Further back, mobile artillery and other systems waited, holding fire only until they had targets to service.The crews checked their vehicles carefully; they had seen all of the data from the handful of heavy battles the Russians had fought in Europe, and the Battle of Lorraine had made it clear; the Russians would hammer them into the ground as soon as they detected their fire and localised their position.They had prepared to move as soon as the Russians found them; they were determined that they would make the Russians pay a price for invading their country.Direct feeds to a hundred hidden soldiers, lurking near possible landing zones, lit up; all they needed now was targeting data, targets to destroy.It wouldn’t be long now.All along the line, they waited.***“I have a direct lock on seven heavy enemy transports,” the weapons officer snapped, as the Winston Churchill evaded a missile from a Russian aircraft with ease.The Russians had concentrated most of their efforts on suppressing the land defences over the past few weeks and it showed; the Royal Navy had enough time to muster its final stand.“Captain; request permission to open fire.”Captain Ward nodded slowly.The fighting was taking its toll…because they didn’t dare head any closer to the Russian-held coastline.The Winston Churchill had grown up in a world where missiles and guided-bombs presented a serious threat to ships…and no ship in existence, with the exception of the really big carriers, could survive a single hit with a heavy warhead.Her class might have been designed as the closest thing the European Union had intended to a battleship, but her armour was puny compared to that of the battleships that had last contested the Channel, back in 1940.“Engage the enemy,” he said, as the first of the sea-skimming cruise missiles started to launch.The Churchill normally carried twenty-four; the battles had drained their stocks down to nine, and seven of them had just been launched against moving enemy transports.He understood the logic – without the transports, the Russians would be unable to land their army – but they had a lot of transports.Had they commandeered every last civilian ship in Europe? There had been hundreds of ships, many of them registered under different flags; had all of them been brought to land soldiers on British soil? “Air defence?”“Four enemy bombers, heading towards the fleet’s location,” the air defence officer reported [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]