Chapter 50 - Fresh wind, fresh fire

Somewhere on Terminal Island

The terrific explosion knocked the remaining members of the team to the ground despite their distance. Intense heat from a shock wave pinned them down for a moment as debris rained down.

"Come on Gunny, we got to get out of here," Imlay urged, pulling him to his feet.

"No, we need to be sure," Mike countered, throwing off the Corporal's arm despite the intense ringing in his eyes. "Come on," he croaked to the others, throat parched, "we need eyes on to see if the generators have been destroyed."

The remaining team members moved cautiously back to where the shield generator had been but for the moment there seemed to be no aliens around. Small fires burned around the dock area and as they moved into view of the where the distinctive machine had been a large black crater was dug out of the concrete. Shredded bodies of aliens littered the ground and none seemed to be standing.

Mike looked for the generator but it was nowhere to be found. He looked up and for the first time noticed the shimmer that had masked the sky was gone. Instead glorious sunshine bathed the area. Santos had done it!

Their respite was short lived.

Alien machine gun and grenade fire erupted all around them as infantry caste squads angrily moved in to destroy those who had eliminated their shield.

Mike desperately looked around for a place to hold us in the face of the onslaught. "Fall back over there!" he pointed to a defensible spot. "Diamond formation. We need to move or we won't make it."

Firing and moving the five remaining Marines sprinted to the refuge and took up a defensive posture. Everywhere they looked aliens were aggressively trying to push into their position.

"We're cut off Gunny!" Imlay shouted, firing his M4A1 in all directions. "What are we going to do?"

"Hold on until help arrives!" Mike ordered. Retrieving Santos' code book he turned his radio on. There was no need for stealth anymore, every alien on the island knew where they were and seemed to be bearing down on them. Flipping through the book he switched to a direct link to the Air Force tactical network directed on the page, bypassing the area headquarters. "Raven Main this is Joker Three. Requesting Ground Support Mission Hotel-Three-Three authorization Delta Sierra-One-One-Niner at these grid co-ordinates…."

Vincent Thomas Bridge, Terminal Island, LA

The aliens had been pressing both sides of the bridge hard again, trying to squeeze the Marines in a vice-like attack. The 2-5 had been holding thus far but could feel the line buckling under the pressure. Captain Harvel had been moving his troops around expertly but his options were becoming more limited.

LCol Ritchie had been in contact with the forces at the other bridge and theirs was the same story. Casualties were mounting and ammo was getting low. He was proud of his Marines. They'd taken the bridges and held them longer then they were supposed to. Though his optimism had faded he was at peace knowing they'd done everything they could.

A group of aliens surged though a hole in the defenses along the landward side of the bridge following upon on a grenade salvo. "Plug the gap!" Ritchie ordered. Grabbing two Marines he ran over to the spot and tried to stem the tide.

Then an explosion on the island lit up the dusk sky.

Everyone paused for a moment, alien and man alike, at the unexpected event. Then someone looked up and yelled, "The shield's gone!"

Ritchie could see the aliens hesitate at this apparent development. He fired a burst from his service rifle dropping an alien who'd paused then looked up to see the shimmer that had been above them gone. The generator had to be down.

Reacting swiftly Ritchie encouraged the beleaguered company to push back. Then he grabbed his radio operator and ordered, "Call this in and get us some air support!" The aliens started to pull back in disarray at the new development and renewed aggressiveness of the Marines so he took a moment to take a long look at the glorious clear sky, allowing the sun to warm his face. Thank you Nantz he thought to himself.

Area Headquarters, LA Theatre of Operations

"The shields down!" an operator shouted jubilantly.

General Daily called out hopefully despite his surprise, "Confirm. Have Air Force standing by."

The junior officer checked her computer then spoke to a colleague flying high above in an AWAC. "Yes sir. The shield is down."

A cheer went up in the operations center while General Daily pumped his fist in the air.

"Yes!" the commanding officer celebrated. All right. I want all available air assets in to support the push on the line. Have two squadrons converge from the rear and another to provide cover from any Squid Wedge Ships."

The place came alive with renewed vigor.

"Are you sure that's wise sir?" Colonel Weeks asked openly.

Daily was shaken from his elation. "What do you mean by that?" he asked a bit confused at the somber tone of his S3.

"I think we should be careful sir," the operations officer cautioned. "This could be a trap by the aliens to get us to commit our reserves. If that thing comes back up we're cooked."

You could feel the air starting to leak out of the balloon of optimism in the headquarters.

"I agree with Colonel Weeks, sir," added General Grayback. "This could be a trick. I would advise we hold off until a more thorough investigation can be initiated. We need to be sure."

"Wait while our guys on the line get chewed up?" Daily countered in frustration. "What do you think Captain Blatchford?"

The reporter turned officer snorted. "I think we've been too cautious all along. We don't have the time nor can we afford to hesitate. But if some have a concern why not just contact the Marines holding the bridge, they can confirm."

Grayback glared at the upstart Reservist but couldn't argue with the logic of the suggestion.

General Daily scanned his assembled leadership team and sighed. "Do it. Contact Lieutenant Colonel Ritchie at Terminal Island."

It only took a moment for the call to be made. With the sound of small arms fire in the background the commander of the LA theatre sought the information he needed.

"Ken it seems the shield is down. Can you confirm this?" General Daily asked LCol Ritchie.

"Yes sir, it's down here too," he confirmed as a nearby explosion cut him off. "We're hard pressed and low on ammo. We've been trying to get air support but none is being released. What's the hold up?"

Daily looked angrily at his Operations Group. "We need to be sure it's down and not a trap. Can you confirm for certain it's down?"

"Well, it's not up now. There was an explosion on the island and the thing dropped. It's gone. I can assure you of that." Ritchie answered a bit testily.

"But have you been able to get confirmation from the team on the ground that they took it out?" General Grayback cut in.

"No sir, we haven't. With the size of the blast I don't think the team made it," Ritchie retorted, a hint of emotion in his voice. "Trust me, its down. Send us help. We can't hold much longer."

"Wait one," Daily ordered the Marine officer. He looked at his staff.

"Too risky sir. I smell a trap," Col. Weeks declared.

"I agree with him. The risk is too great," General Grayback confirmed.

"Clock's ticking sir. We need to move. Now," Captain Blatchford stated.

General Daily felt the weight of the decision. Things seemed good but if it was a trap they'd be left with nothing. Still, he felt he needed to trust those who were on the line. And what choice did they really have? It was time for bold decisions not just on the front but in the relative safety of the rear also. He got back on the radio. "Hang tight Ken. Help is on the way." He then turned to his Air Force Liaison Officer. "Release all reserves. I want maximum support and resupply at Terminal Island and a full attack at the front."

If that didn't shock his more timid officers the next one did. "And get the command helicopter prepped for take off. I'm going mobile and the ops group is coming with me. Care to join us Captain Blatchford?"

"I thought you'd never ask," the diminutive woman responded happily.

Abandoned industrial complex, somewhere outside Military Command Los Angeles Protective Zone, LA

The alien Wedge Ship was chased off by a pair of Air Force F16's so the inhabitants of The Foundry began to come out of hiding and assess what had happened. A number had heard the gun battle in the storage area Maria Rincon had controlled so came to investigate.

Gwen Langois, still smarting from the sacrificial death of Raul saw several men come into the room to find out what was going on. The Military Police officer sprang to her feet, service pistol leveled. "Come on, make a move," she yelled.

"Hey lady," not our problem," one responded, raising his hands to show he wasn't a threat. "You do what you got to do."

The curious left the room rather then face the wrath of the Cajun woman.

Hector, wide-eyed and shocked at what he'd witnessed, finally was able to unglue himself from the mattress he'd been sitting on during the engagement. The boy sprang to his feet and ran towards Father Alexander who had just finished performing the Last Rites on Raul.

"I'll be back to make sure you have a proper burial," the priest promised. He turned just in time to keep from being bowled over by the boy.

"Father Alexander! Father Alexander!" Hector cried. "You came to rescue me."

"Yes we did. You're safe now," the priest confirmed.

"How did you find me?"

"Raul brought us to you," Father Alexander answered quietly.

"But…but he was a bad man. My Aunt Maria had me do things for him," Hector declared. "Why would he help you to rescue me? Why did he throw himself in front of my Aunt?"

"He wanted to change," the priest stated. "No, he had changed. His act was very brave, an example of sacrificial love."

The answer seemed to satisfy the boy. Shifting thoughts Hector's face lift up, "Is Gunny Nantz with you?"

"No," Father Alexander frowned at the thought of where he was, "he's fighting the aliens right now but I'm sure he's okay."

"Then what will happen with me?" Hector asked, starting to put some pieces together.

"You'll stay with me until your friend returns," Gwen declared joining the conversation.

"Who's this?" Hector asked, a bit overwhelmed by everything that had gone on.

"This is Lt. Gwen Langois. She's with the Military Police," Father Alexander introduced, pleased by the offer.

"Thank you," the boy said quietly. "Thank you all for rescuing me. I'll never forget what all of you did for me." He went over and gave the tough police officer a hug.

The praise from the boy warmed Gwen Langois' helping with the pain and guilt she felt at Raul's death. She returned the hug, soaking in the warm feeling but then reality came back in. "Come on, we need to get out of here," she declared, knowing there was still risk in the lawless place. "But I'll be back to get Raul's body and clean this place up."

Terminal Island, LA

At the Vincent Thomas Bridge the aliens vigorously resumed their attack at both ends, trying to crush the Marine defenses but their thrusts were sporadic and uncoordinated. The dropping of the overhead shield seemed to throw the alien command into a bit of disarray.

Lt. Gordon was with his platoon holding the flank closest to the canal on the landward side. They'd taken casualties but were able to hold their position. He heard the sky rip and several miles out saw the growing dots of streaking jets heading towards the island.

"Look!" Gordon called out, "air support inbound." The Marines cheered but the volume died down as the jets headed past them towards the southern part of the island. What the heck, he thought but then it occurred to him, someone from Nantz's team must still be alive and called in air support.

The opportunity to ponder was short lived.

"Squid Wedges!" a Marine warned as four alien hovercrafts flew in to attack from the city. The Marines in the defensive position braced for the onslaught but before the alien ships could open fire with their Direct Energy Weapons the lead craft then the others in quick succession exploded. Coming from high and out of the sun Air Force F16 Fighting Falcons streaked in wiggling their wings in salute to the now cheering defenders of the bridge.

At the company headquarters, LCol Ritchie and Captain Harvel joined in the celebration until their radio operator called the pair over.

"Sir, we got an inbound transmission for you," the Corporal reported.

"This is Viper Lead," a southern voice drawled over the radio from the overflying F16's. "We'll be on station to watch you boys until your reinforcements arrive. Hang tough, it should only be another couple of hours. In the meantime, we've got something that should help tide you over."

The distinctive drone of turboprop engines grew in intensity until flying low and towards the bridge a flight of four-engine C-130 Hercules cargo planes came into view. The rear ramped lowered as they flew over the 2-5's position and the loadmasters on the ramp pushed bundles of supplies out the back. Their placement was perfect and as the parachute attached skids fell they landed in the center of the Marine position.

"Snug as bugs in a rug," Ritchie commented to Captain Harvel and the Marines eagerly unpacked crates of ammo and other supplies. "Now if only Nantz and his team can make it out."

At that moment Mike and the remnant of his team were fighting for their lives. Ammunition was low and the aliens had aggressively pushed them into a tight defensive circle. Ortega had been hit in the hip but still held his position. Lockett was weakened from a loss of blood and Mike felt the shoulder wound he'd taken earlier. But none relented, picking their shots wisely and keeping the alien attackers at bay.

Then everything changed.

The radio Mike now carried came to life with a message of hope.

"Joker Three this is Raven Two-Seven, we are inbound and ready to engage."

Mike started to laugh, he couldn't help himself. The pressure of the past day overwhelmed him. "Good to hear you Two-Seven. We'd appreciate the support. Bring the heat, danger close."

"Our pleasure. Thanks for dropping the shield. We have your position locked. Pop red smoke on your location and keep your heads down in about one Mike. We're coming in hot, danger close."

"Imlay, pop smoke, we got friendlies coming in. One minute. The cavalry's here!"

F15E Strike Eagles came screaming in, their Vulcan Gatling Cannons blazing. The 6-barrelled guns spit death to the surging aliens caught in the open. The invaders broke and ran as another flight swooped in nailing their fall back positions with AGM-65 Maverick missiles. The combination of cannon and rocket fire broke the back of the alien desire to punish the remaining Marines who'd destroyed their shield generator. Instead, they turned and ran.

Just over an hour later Lt. Gordon saw a sight that caused him to turn away from his other men so they didn't see the emotion on his face. Gunnery Sergeant Nantz and the remainder of their team appeared out of a forest of shipping containers heading for their launch to cross the channel.

Florence, Los Angeles

The 75th Cavalry had made excellent progress, even more then Major-General McConville had expected but the cost had been high. Better then half of the unit was down but the Widow Makers had been relentless in their efforts to unstick the offensive. With the punch of 35th Armor's M1A1 tanks they'd engaged the alien line and broken through. Unfortunately, the aliens counterattacked, fighting viciously for every foot. Their casualties had been huge but still the invaders threw more to keep the line blocked. The human forces were tantalizingly close to the breakout they desperately needed. Units were in position ready to surge forward. But hope and good intention don't win battles. The aliens had better position and more resources which meant they could steadily grind the reconnaissance battalion to dust and begin to chip away at their armored support. It was a matter of simple math.

Then the Air Force arrived and changed the equation.

First F22 Raptors swooped in from the rear driving off the alien Wedge Ship cover. With the air clear it was time for the US Air Force to own the skies. Flights of F15E Strike Eagles screamed over the alien position dropping 500lb laser-guided bombs from their inventory then as they banked away slower moving A-10 Thunderbolts popped out of nowhere to pound the alien line with salvos of Hydra rockets then peppering the position with their 30mm Avenger Gatling Cannons.

The alien line collapsed under the vicious assault.

75th Cavalry surged through, followed by 35th Armored and suddenly the road was clear for the rest of the two divisions to break out. Armored bulldozers and recovery vehicles moved in to clear the roads on the axis of advance as engines roared to life and crews loaded weapons.

As this was going on a Blackhawk helicopter landed at the command area flanked by a pair of Apache Gunships. To the surprise of the paratroopers protecting the headquarters General Daily hopped out followed by his hesitant senior staff. Explosions could be heard a short distance away mixed with the staccato sound of small arm fire causing several to duck involuntarily.

Word was relay to Major-General McConville who came outside to see what he couldn't believe. "Ron, what the hell are you doing here?" the commander of the 101st Airborne asked incredulously.

"I wanted to see what was going on Jim," Daily replied a bit sheepishly. "I don't want to get in the way but I needed to see what was happening."

"Oaky," the paratrooper responded, impressed anew by the area commander. "Your timing is perfect. The Air Force support you sent us did the job. We just popped the squid line and in about five minutes the wrath of God is going to descend on those bastards."

"What do you have going on to support the 2-5 at the bridges?"

"I got a Stryker Battalion from the 35th ready to go balls to the wall and get there. If you can rustle up some air support to pave the way they can likely be there in maybe two hours."

That was the best news the commanding officer had heard since hearing the shield was down. "Major Temperman," he yelled to the Air Force liaison officer with them, "give them whatever they need. This is a priority mission."

"How is 75th Cavalry holding out?" Daily asked, afraid of what he'd hear.

"They got the crap knocked out of them but they gave more then they got back and are still standing. I'm about to pull them back," McConville answered. "We owe those boys a lot."

Daily breathed a sigh of relief. "You're right. Whatever they need, they get."

General McConville's operations officer interrupted the conversation. "Sir, we're good to go."

"All right then, release the dogs," the paratrooper answered enthusiastically. Then looking from the General to his helicopters he got a grin on his face. "Hey Ron, want to watch the battle?'

Daily laughed like he hadn't in weeks. "You're crazy Jim." Then pounding his friend on the shoulder replied, "Let's do it."

The view from the sky was impressive. With the alien line breached armored units backed up by paratroopers surged through and began to roll the alien line up. It was like a house of cards once it began to fall. Within an hour the whole alien position had collapsed and they were in a full bore retreat.