The rumble of airplanes overhead catches my attention, and I see three large propeller driven T-3 Titans roar toward us. These planes were ISA, but had been commandeered after the airports siege. Unsure of their motives, I call into the base to warn them. "Ground this is Alpha 1, come in Ground!" "Ground here, what's up?" "Man the anti aircraft guns! We've got three bogeys coming in from the west!" "Roger that Alpha one."
The air raid sirens scream to life over the mountains, and the anti aircraft fire begins. Hundreds of tracer rounds fly out from in between the large mountains in the direction of the planes. But they do not swerve, or take any evasive maneuvers at that. Instead they stay on course, taking heavy fire from the high tech anti aircraft gun fire. All of the sudden, the lead plane pitches downward, his nose pointed toward the base.
I pick up the radio again "They're trying to kamikazi you guys, get that plane out of the air!" The fire rate picks up and focuses on the lead plane, lighting it on fire and sending it spiraling into the mountainside. The others point downwards now, screaming toward the base. The guns fire at max capacity, breaking off the wing of one of the planes. It swerves into the plane next to it, and they crash into each other just above the Union grain factory.
The smoke billows high into the air as the guns stop firing. Rocks and debris slide down the mountainside from the first downed plane, followed by a dozen or so violent explosions. "Those must've been the bombs inside." Avian says. Before I can say it, more explosions rock the ground as the payload of the two other planes explodes into the air. Debris and dirt rain down on us, and we run into the trucks. "Let's get outta here!" I yell to the men in the other trucks. They comply, and we slowly pull the weight of the guns and ammo across the field, back onto the highway.
We arrive on scene at the crash site, to find a huge cloud of smoke and a crumbling road. The fire and crash debris block the road, but I know I have to get these guns off the road, and fast. Seeing a break in the fires, I tear into the grass and bust through a guard rail. Pushing the gas pedal to the floor, I fly towards the small gap in the fire. The grass is torn up and the truck bounces over large mounds of turned up dirt.
As the path becomes a hill, the trucks tires begin to dig into the soft earth, slowing us down. I pound on the wheel "C'mon dammit you can do it!" I yell at the truck. The heat of the nearby fire begins to make its way through my open window, but I can take my hands off the wheel to wind it up. Gripping the wheel with all my might and forcing the pedal as far down as it goes, I grit my teeth in preparation for the final moment. The front wheels lift off the ground as we reach the crest of the hill, flames torching the side of the truck. The front wheels meet the paved road as the rear ones struggle to get a grip.
Finally the truck slams back onto the pavement, rattling and banging the whole way back into the parking lot. I drive it into the garage and shut it off, hands shaking as I take them off the steering wheel. "Impressive driving sir!" Avian says, still death gripping the handrail inside the truck's door. I pour myself out the door and meet up with the group of soldiers inside the garage. Tossing them the keys, I say "I think it has a flat."
That night the fires from the plane crash burn brightly. Even though the mountain blocked our view, the orange glow of burning jet fuel and grain filled the night sky. For once the base wasn't quiet, in fact it was quite loud. I had ordered all the mechanics to fix our trucks for the impending offensive, and many were working through the night. It was strange seeing the garage doors wide open, with all the inside light shining onto the dark pavement of the usually poorly lit parking lot.
Our anti aircraft guns were also subject to some attention, as many of them had overheated trying to repel the attack. I don't think anybody was without something to do that night, except me that is. Although that wasn't entirely true, as my job was to supervise and plan out all of the jobs that needed to be done. Meanwhile, the rest of Easy Company was busy setting up the artillery guns in key positions. It killed me not to be with them while they do it, and I begged them to let me come, but they told me that I had more important things to attend to and that I shouldn't worry about small dangerless missions like that.
True as that may be, I hated to leave them alone. I found it strange that I cared for them like children, even though they were fully grown men of war. Sparks fly from the roof as a welder begins to work on patching a hole in the roof with a steel plate salvaged from the plane wreck. Air guns go off inside the garage as the broken and beat up frames of the old Army trucks are repaired to working condition. And far off in the distance, the flames of the plane wreck crackle with seemingly infinite heat. The world was alive around me once again, and the ISA was nearly ready to launch the offensive campaign. But there was still a good bit left to do.
That night a farmer walked onto the base's premises, telling us that "You guys oughta do something soon, because those Eurusians are in full control of the Zancudo base. That's where those planes took off from, because the airport is still in shambles." He then offered his small fleet of single engine propeller planes to us, to which we took them immediately. Those planes were exactly what we needed to spy on the Eurusians, and maybe we could use them as fighter bombers during the offensive.
They were pretty rough though, and four of the six planes hardly ran at all. This meant that I would have to divert some of our mechanics to work on the planes, but there rose another problem. We had no hangar to stash them in. That and we had no runway to launch the planes. Still, I wasn't turning down that offer. A few squads of men went out at night time and wheeled the planes into a nearby field, then covered them in a tarp, sticks and leaves. I'd have to figure that out later.
In the mean time I gave the order to begin shelling the Eurusians, and on the morning of June 17th, we began the constant day bombardment of Eurusian and Calrisian positions around the facility. By June 21st, we had pushed back their lines a whole four and a half miles from the point where they stopped during the initial battles.
But on that day we received devastating news. Bravo Company, the rogue squad that had escaped from the airport in the same fashion as Easy Company, was reportedly destroyed by Calrisian artillery shells and ground troops after a three day battle at the ski lodge on top of Mount Chiliad. This was troublesome, as Bravo Company was supposed to meet up with some of our troops to undertake artillery missions against the Eurusians at Fort Zancudo.
Without them, we had no way of knowing about any planes being launched by the Eurusians at the base, not to mention the fact that the shelling caused landslides down the trails we were supposed to drive up. Now we had no way of disabling the enemy at their principal attack base, meaning that we could get crushed by our own stolen fighter bombers launched from the base. Unsure of what to do, I went to Easy Company for advice.
