"Flying Fortresses," said Taylor.
"What?" Parker asked.
"No, he's right," added Rains, "The old B17s, fortresses in the sky."
"I got no idea what you're talking about," she replied.
Taylor only smiled in response as King strode up to them.
"We're ready to roll," he stated.
"Then what are you waiting for? Load up."
He turned to Jones and indicated for him to follow the same order, which he quickly did. Taylor turned and watched the orders issued across comms channels 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 shouted.
He rushed to the window and quickly raised his rifle. Drones were soaring towards them for another pass. The guns along the hull were still firing, and he saw one of the drones blasted out of the sky. But for all of their ammo expenditure, they were achieving little. He raised his rifle and took aim at two of the drones that were flying close to each other.
Gunfire rushed at their vessel, but Taylor calmed his breathing and squeezed the trigger. The shot rushed from his rifle and expanded out. The web instantly encompassed one of the drones and knocked the other off course. The trapped drone dropped from the sky like a brick.
"It works," he whispered, "Take 'em down!"
Others rushed to the gunports and opened fire with volleys of the web rounds that saw the drones being swatted like flies from fifty metres away. The fixed guns turned their fire to the drone carriers and bombarded them with prolonged bursts. Taylor sighed in relief as the rest of them cheered at their victory. He looked around; Lang and the other Germans were genuinely impressed. He didn't have the heart to tell the Sergeant that the drones were little more than a scouting party.
"Baltimore, here we come!" Parker shouted.
Chapter 4
Taylor was the first to step down the ramp onto the surface and stopped to look out at the ten-metre high walls either side of them, thinking of how they had seen layers just like it from the air.
"Looks like Minas Tirith," said Lang.
"What?" Silva asked.
"Layer after layer of thick walls housing a city. Tolkien?"
Silva shook his head and that brought a smile to Jones' face.
"We'll bring some culture to your world yet," he added.
Silva was still oblivious to what they were talking about and shrugged it off.
A dozen friendly vessels passed overhead, coming in to land throughout the city, and many more could be seen on the ground. Troops and vehicles were busy at work all around them.
"Will it be enough?"
"Probably not, Jones," replied Taylor.
Jones could not help but laugh at his scepticism, to avoid crying instead. Taylor was looking around for some semblance of authority. Army and Marine personnel were intermingled, and he could make out the uniforms of cops and Coast Guard. National Guard and Marine reservists were there too.
"One big happy family," said Silva.
A stripped down utility mule jeep parted some of the troops and stopped by them. It had just a single seat for the driver; the rest being a flat topped carrying deck.
"Colonel Taylor?" asked the driver.
"Yeah," he replied casually.
"Sir, General Heath requests your presence immediately, and that of Captain Jones if he is with you."
"And he couldn't have called this in?"
"Comms are haywire, Sir. We've got interference coming in all over the place, and we have no idea who is listening in. Fixed line communications have been established every one hundred metres on all the walls for when they are needed."
"Going old school."
"Yes, Sir."
"King, you know what to do. We'll be back shortly." Taylor climbed onto the flat-topped vehicle with Jones.