The Siege Begins
© 2008 CW Kelson III (Tad) All Rights Reserved
The 31st of December on into the 1st of January 19XX
It was less than a minute past the stroke of midnight when all the clocks in the world, I hear tell, stopped all at once.
Then out of the shadows in the night stepped the monsters, things from our dread fears and imaginations come taken on life and form to bedevil and torment the likes of good folk such as you and I.
We were up celebrating the start of a new year, the clapping and well wishing still ringing in our ears when the horrendous noises began. We thought it was the end of the world come, judgment made and the world about to be torn asunder into parts scattered across all of creation.
Instead it was almost as bad; invaders had struck our shores in the dead of night. At least the initial reports had it that way. Some new warfare device from over on the continent perhaps, developed in secret despite the best works of the British Mind.
Well you would have thought the Admiralty would have seen something, I told my fellow men in arms a few days later, you would have thought they would have seen something if indeed these things had come across the Channel and landed on all our shores simultaneously. You would think, I kept asking trying to get an answer that made senses.
No answers, no sense, so we able bodied men went and mustered that next morning as the constables came around telling us the Queen needed all our help. The memories of the Great War still echo in our hearts and minds and knowing the horrors of war, we wished to keep it at bay from our loved ones. I kissed my darling wife and all the children, small and not so small anymore. I might not return, she knew that, but I had to go. Duty, and more importantly, keeping our home and children safe from harm, this is what a Husband and Father does, protects his family with each breath of his lungs and each beat of his heart.
We mustered, donning old musty uniforms turned out for us irregulars, issued our Garands, twenty rounds of ammunition, and a small kit. Fortunately in our neighbourhood we had better and had brought our own for the most part. Shared out where we could from the new platoon we organized ourselves into. So was born the 9th Irregulars out of Bromsgrove.
Without much ado we all boarded the trains that were passing though heading towards London, where the fighting the Regular Army types said was already thick and bloody. The enemy had made a surprise landing and struck out at the Queen first, seeking to take the wind from our sails, he said. But she had made it to safety, led out by the sacrifice of the Guard and had left the city via rail while the city was being razed, he said he had heard.
Seems a bit much to think they would raze London, but we kept our mouth’s shut till we got a bit more recent news. Even if it was only a few days since our clocks had stopped working, and no matter what winding we did, none would turn. The sun and moon never stopped moving so at least the passage of our world in the heavens has not ceased.
The rocking of the train heading eastward lulls me into sleep.
Letter dated January 29th, the 30th day of the Invasion
Cpl XXXXXXXX
9th Bromsgrove Irregulars
London
Mrs. XXXXXXXX
XXX Lane
Bromsgrove,
My dearest wife,
I write this holding you and our family in my heart. I know you are safe, no reports place incursions or damage close to our home. I listen and find all I can so I can know how it is going there. I trust that you are in fine spirits, my apologies for not writing sooner, there was training and regaining skill with our rifles, as well as being placed into fortifications and working to contain these infernal invaders.
I am allowed to say that yes, our nation has been invaded. Word has reached our government in hiding in the countryside that all the major powers in the world were struck at the same time. The invaders have met with varying success, getting farther in some nations such as Italy and the United States, and no so far in the more spirited nations such as ourselves and France in example. No complete word has reached our ears, well at least mine. But I can reassure you that while fighting is fierce, the foe had not reckoned on English Resolve.
I have engaged the enemy, and escaped unscathed. Others have not been so lucky, but so far all of our kin and neighbours with me are hale and sound of limb as of the writing of this letter. You can pass that along.
Our foes are puissant, not as numerous as we are, but their arms are superior, as well as not being like anything we have encountered before in the art of warfare. They have strange guns that fire out small pellets that scatter and cause smoke and gas to erupt. Several times a day we must don our gas masks due to enemy incoming fire. They have bombard like weapons as well which when fired make an odd shrieking sound and the detonations are like cries of the dammed that rock and shake buildings so they collapse easily. There is so much rubble; it will take many years to rebuild the fair city once again. They have other weapons of destruction that I will not relate here in this letter, I dislike thinking about those other devices. There are some other disturbing facts I have heard tales about, how the enemy seem inhuman, which I lend no real credence to.
The strangest thing is the vehicles they have. They are not like our tanks and armoured cars in the least. Instead they are more like giants in suits of armour, striding from one battle site to another. Standing at least as tall as five men, they carry strange clubs that glow with electric torch light and ignite the very air at times when they are wielded. This in addition to their odd rifles, and tales of other weapons as well which I have not witnessed as of yet.
Really not a lot affects them that are less than a 3 pounder in size. A couple of Maxims going full at it will hand them pause, but not to stop them in their tracks. They are rousting up as many heavy rifles, like for large game or some such, to give to all that are good enough of a shot. I am learning to help with the Maxims myself, cannot hurt to know what the lad next to me needs to know.
Well I am posting this as soon as I am done writing, it should reach you in a week or so they tell us.
With all my love,
XXXXXXX
The First Foray into London, the 10th of February
“Up and ready men, we are moving out with the rising of the sun. Come on out of your rolls your sluggards. Stow the gear, pack a short field kit and be ready to move out when you are done with biscuits and something warm to drink.”
The Sergeant passes through our bunk and mess area, pulling us all from our sodden dreams here on the outskirts of London. Today marks the first day we are pushing back at the ruddy buggers. Show them a taste of good English Steel as well as a few volleys from the large guns brought down to cover the advance.
Parliament wants us to reconnoitre, recover all the survivors possible as well as hopefully make a few kills and bring back some captives if at all possible. For this one they picked one in five units to move in, our luck the 9th Bromsgrove was one of those one in five. Still should be fine, moving in force, and the support from our side and if they fall back then an advance in full is planned just in case. I got one of the new sniper style rifles, big brute even with some extra padding it bruises the shoulder with every round sent down range. Still I have seen what it can do to the smaller enemy units, and with a few good hits the larger ones take pause and tend to back away, so that bolsters the squads courage knowing I am there to support them. I also snagged a Webley for a backup in case it gets down to the personal.
We all form up in the dank air; the weather has warmed unseasonable since the enemies landing on our shores. Seems even the land a rebel against the invaders and when it is pointed out rousts some spirits that were flagging here and there.
We are formed up into our platoons, the entire unit ready to head out to the front line along with the other designated lads. I get to pull up the rear along with the two support machine gunners, with the riflemen taking up the main duty of the lead. Our Sergeant leads, there being no officer in our small company, we all were enlisted and that is how we remain in this struggle.
The ground gets a bit rougher the closer to the line we get. It reminds us lot about how it was over on the continent in the big war. This time however there is no mud to live in and the destruction is all happening to places we revere and hold dear in our hearts. This bolsters us all into the drive to remove them from our shores.
We can hear the guns in the background with their ceaseless shelling of the enemy positions. The noise has not abated for days and it seems our time has come at last. There is a strange rumble to the ground, I believe it means the tanks will come in with us as support. I am not certain how well they will fare, there must be large swaths of the city turned into nothing but rubble by this time, I am not sure how their treads will hold up. But they should be nice targets for the enemy.
“Look up, over there to the left!”
I hear it, a flight of reconnaissance planes, coming to make some fast passes over our entry point I imagine. They have not fared too well to date. Not near fast enough to avoid the enemy. The balloons far back from the front seem to do better. At least we have not lost too many of those, brave lads to pilot those things, even when they are tethered, still that high up in the air, like an angel flying.
Some of the planes look a bit larger than the others, some bombs I hope to shake them up, in addition to the constant shelling. Anything can only help I figure, being one of those sent in on foot, so the more of them that are dead or missing the better for us all.
Well about here, I hear the tanks, should be there in a few minutes. Then hopefully the final word and we begin to retake our city and our land from these cowards.
Tags: Story Horror
