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Needless to say, the CO wasn’t very pleased and sent a truck to pick the Colonel up.
The Colonel and I go back pretty far.
Back when we thought a war could be won.
We met in a bar far away and had a couple of good laughs.
My recollection was ruined by a bright flash.
Miles away a wall of fire approached the steel structures that would be called downtown.
So much for visiting Mr. White.
Despite America's governmental collapse, the military kept a firm grasp over what is referred to as the mainland. Arizona being on the edge of that expanse. And as long as oil could be pumped the military could operate. Given the conditions of Tucson, they were stretched thin. Enough that they would need to pay people like me for food.
The base was 2000 strong and the only civil place left in southern Arizona.
It was 10 years prior that the bombs had dropped.
By who I'm not sure.
But it was clear that life was lookin to change.
And my weary bone would not be getting a break.
It started north. Phoenix is a barren ghost of what used to be, but no bombs were needed in Tucson. Maybe they just ran out. But that's a question for another time. What concerned me is why we weren't all dead from radiation.
I'm no scientist, not by a long shot. But I figure with how uninhabitable Phoenix is we should all be dust in the wind.
Alas, that was not the case and I breathed cold air with what remained of humanity.
The truck arrived an hour later, escorted by Highwaymen.
Highwaymen were what remained of the sheriffs department and border patrol. They were close to the military and were often higher as escorts by all sorts of people.
“Mornin’ “ I greeted the lead man.
He said not a word but only watched as airmen walked the colonel to the truck.
20 YEARS AGO
THE INVASION OF BRITAN
MAJOR JAMES MCDONALD 4TH INFANTRY BATTALION UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS.
As we approached the city center it was clear my five-man team, now down to four would not be enough to take the city of liverpool.
But we sure as hell were going to try.
Composed of two infantrymen, a medic, and me. My squad was responsible for clearing out the inner city with 5 more squads from the so-called ‘Mighty 8th’.
They didn’t last long.
We sat atop a pub across from the city square.
To the left, About 20 British infantry sat and drank beer and tea.
To the left, a good 50 sat next to their armor.
And next to that armor, fuel trucks.
I popped a blue tip into my mag and sighted in on the fuel trucks.
I saw their faces.
Joyful, young.
A gleam in their youthful eyes that made my itchy trigger finger hesitate.
It was just work.
At least that what I told myself.
I squeezed the deathly cold trigger as my rifle seemed to buck in protest as it unleashed the incendiary round.
It struck the truck and killed the fifty instantly.
I wish I could say the same for the other twenty as the flames engulfed them in pain.
I will never forget the screams.
They rolled and tossed, refusing to die as their skin melted to reveal bone and blood poured from their faces into the dirt.
After a minute passed they all went still.
My squad and I were frozen, contemplating what I had just done.
The wet tendrils of fate gripped my soul as my ticket to hell was punched for the 6th time.
No one said a word as we climbed down into the pub and reported The successful takeover of Liverpool.
An hour later American tanks rolled through and a young Lieutenant of the airforce joined us at the bar. After cracking some jokes to make us feel better about what we did he dropped more bad news. He had a word of another attack and we were required at the front.
Back to work.
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