Alright everyone, part 3 of the White Sands Battle is posted. Whew! Now I need some R&R myself. Though, given how fast my mind works sometimes, I doubt that'll be possible.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
On a side note, I DO however, now own roughly thirteen dogs as my sister-in-law's dog just had puppies a few weeks ago. If any readers are interested and live in Louisiana, I'd much appreciate a hand. There are four half-grown pups from her last litter and now there's nine newborn pups that have just opened their eyes. All resemble their mother and have those adorable labrador characteristics.
Chapter 28: Battle of White Sands, Part 3
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Josh stood dumbfounded at the radar operator as he called out the contact and gazing around saw many of the crew blanch. He gazed at one man in particular who looked to him and, in an effort to break the tension, said the first thing that came to his mind.
"Anyone so much as utter the phrase 'bring me my brown pants', I'm personally throwing them off this ship."
The remark caused a few nervous laughs but otherwise had no effect. Josh then grew more serious and then approached the radar station.
"So...twelve battleships, was it?" The operator nodded slowly as if afraid to gaze away at the screen and towards his Commander. Josh then sighed and turned to Anne.
"Raise the Bastion on the radio and tell them to pick up what survivors from the Solent they can and fall back. Then contact the rest of the fleet and tell them to array themselves in a pickett line so that we can fire broadsides as well as torpedoes at the enemy when they arrive. I know that many of you would prefer we fall back as well, but listen, White Sands is a lynchpin in our efforts to assist and liberate Tullinar. If we fall back here, our efforts on shore will stall. If we don't face this foe, someone else will and then they may pay the ultimate price for our inaction. This position is dangerous but it is not impossible. No matter how badly we're hit, we must keep up the fight and hold true to our Navy's creed: Never Give Up The Ship."
The bridge was silent for a moment. Josh feared his words hadn't sunk in until, as one, the entire crew snapped to attention and saluted him, each sailor showing strong and fierce resolve on his or her face. He was then aware that he was holding the ship's PA transmitter in his hand and released the button. All at once, compartments began coming on.
"Commander, this is Compartment One. We are manned and ready."
"Compartment Two, awaiting our orders, Commander."
"Compartment Three - One, manned and ready."
"Compartment Three - Two, Turret One, awaiting firing solution."
"Compartment Four, a little waterlogged, but we are manned and ready."
"Compartment Five, pumps are working. Manned and ready for duty."
"Fire extinguished in Compartment Six, all positions manned and ready."
"Port batteries armed and ready."
"Starboard batteries repaired and ready, Commander."
"Compartment Seven, Engine One, manned and ready."
"Compartment Eight-One, Engine Two, manned and ready."
"Compartment Eight-Two, Turret Two, ready and willing."
"Compartment Nine-One, all hands to stations."
"Compartment Nine-Two, Turret Three, all guns ready."
"Compartment Ten, Engine Three, ready to serve the Homeland, Commander."
Josh stood as Anne walked before him and saluted him, a broad smile on her face.
"All Compartments ready and waiting, Commander. We will stand by you whatever comes at us." Josh nodded and turned to the bridge crew and chuckled.
"They say that a ship's crew is like a second family. Today, all of you just proved that right. XO, get in touch with our aircraft and see if they can recon the enemy group without getting their asses shot off. All hands, battlestations!"
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Reyson and his group was off like a shot when Anne's request came to them. Upon hearing that an even larger group, comprised primarily of battleships, was nearly upon the battlegroup, every pilot became itchy.
For some that was a good thing, others...not so much.
Most of the nuggets, probably expecting a short battle that would make them all aces instead of a drawn out slug-fest that most of them probably wouldn't live to see the end of, were the worst cases. Six times he heard someone request permission to disengage and return to the carrier only to be told by Gerald to shut up and do their duty. Reyson finally tired of it himself and keyed the radio.
"Gerald. These kids are scared. They've never been in a battle this big and this drawn out before. If they want to return to the carrier as it bugs out well then that's on them." The response was instant...and fiery.
"Rey, you don't get it. The only way for these kids to learn how to be fighter pilots is for them to go through hell. I know the Dalon Conflict wasn't a bloodless conflict but dammit the Aerocorps saw a lot less action than the ground forces. It wasn't until the Callinar Incursion that fighter tactics evolved to fit modern warfare. I was baptised in hellfire the day my squadron led a raid on Vermetsk. In that one battle, I lost more friends than I care to admit. I've seen brutality. I've seen slaughter. In that conflict, I saw things that would have driven most men insane. The Rotarians are a special kind of pilot. They are basically hardwired not to show mercy, not to withdraw, and never quit. These nuggets withdraw, that just means our asses'll be hanging out and the enemy will have some easy kills when they decide to stop toying with us and go after the Bastion." Reyson sighed as he heard his friends and also heard the half-hearted shouts of outrage from the pilots flying with them.
"Attention, all planes. Though put rather bluntly, Captain Ross is right. We need every available pilot and plane in the air. I know that a battle of this magnitude scares you, hell, it scares me. But think on this. We don't put up a fight, the enemy may sink our ships. And in case none of you have done the numbers, those capital ships like the Beowulf, Minotaur, and Bastion? Each of them has a crew of roughly two to three hundred men and women aboard. We are one unit, one pilot, one plane. Our duty is to protect the fleet, no matter what."
"Even if we're ount numbered and outmatched, sir?"
"Even then. Now cut the chatter, I see the smoke from the group's engines. Keep an eye out for enemy planes and call them out when you see them. Gerald, let's see how badly the Beowulf is outgunned."
With Gerald at his side, Reyson dove to investigate the enemy fleet steaming towards the Beowulf and swore when he saw the numbers.
"Beowulf, this is Warbird, just by seeing the size of the enemy fleet, I can comfortably say that we're in deep shit. I can confirm twelve battleships surrounded by what looks to be six battlecruisers, three anti-air cruisers, the rest are those damnable heavy destroyers. What are our orders?" Reyson heard muttering and then heard Josh's voice over the line.
"Warbird, how many aircraft still have anti-ship ordnance ready?" Reyson sighed.
"None. All anti-ship ordnance expended. Unless you want us to strafe their decks a few times we can do that but as for taking out their heavy hitters, we'd have to return to the Bastion and rearm and that would take too long. Josh, be candid with me, how well is your group?"
"Not so good. The Solent is sunk, Minerva is dead in the water, Minotaur has only is stern turrets left operational, and we just retrieved the group from the Aurora who boarded the Lion and reported that there was blood and bodies everywhere. Looks like the ship had been boarded and then once the crew was killed, they send a distress call feining trouble. I don't want to say it was a trap but, what else was it?"
"Warbird copies Commander. Some of our pilots want to land and rearm and quite frankly, I'm thinking about letting them do it, unless you say no, that is."
"Beowulf to all planes, proceed to Bastion to rearm and refuel. Take it in stages so that we don't lose our CAP altogether. Once you're back up, engage the enemy with the utmost haste."
"Warbird copies. Godspeed Beowulf."
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Josh let the reciever drop as his shoulders sagged. He was already starting to feel his muscles and body tighten almost to the point of cramping from his earlier actions. Though he was in pain, he didn't let it show and kept soldiering on. Ignoring a spasm in his left arm, he turned to Anne who shook her head.
"Long range transmissions are still impossible at this moment, sir. That stray shell may not have hit the intended target but it did enough damage without striking the hull."
While Josh had been scrapping the battlecruiser, a destroyer had charged at the Beowulf even though it was a suicide attack and was sunk while trying to ram the ship. In one last apparent act of defiance, the ship's bow turret fired a shell meant to go through the wheel house but was aimed too high and shot the long range radio mast in half. Now the damage control team was hastily working to weld the two pieces of the mast together all the while the enemy carrier and its few remaining escorts retreated to the safety of the incoming fleet.
It gave Josh's group a moment's respite but that wasn't going to last long. Josh's mind worked quickly to devise a possible battle plane and then looked back at Anne when he had one.
"Tell the DC teams to focus on restoring the radio. If we can't get a transmission out, we're leaving the fleet flat-footed-Grr!" That groan caught Anne's attention and she saw Josh wince visibly as his right arm spasmed. She thought for a moment she could see muscles in his arms writhe under his uniform. After a moment, the writhing stopped and Josh panted lightly.
"Maybe you should rest in your quarters, sir? We all witnessed what you did and none among us would think the less of you for doing so." Josh half grinned-half grimaced at his XO but then dismissed the notion.
"No that won't be nessessary. I can retain this form long enough to see us through the battle. Afterwards though, all bets are off. I...I will need some time in my natural form in order to release the tension in my body. Heh, Dad always said I was a fool for always pushing my limits. This time, I think I may have went too far." Anne sighed as he said this and then smiled a knowing smile.
"Well, no matter what happens, know this, by doing what you did, you scared the enemy pretty damn good and also probably earned the respect of the entire crew, if you didn't have it already. No matter what you have to do to uncoil yourself,even if it's rest in a lair for a week, we'd gladly stand guard while you're vulnerable." Josh nodded and then went back to watching the bridge. Moments later, the radar operator raised his hand.
"Contacts closing! Multiple enemy planes bearing 355 to 010. I guess they're through dicking around. I count at least twelve large blips meaning possibly two-hundred plus aircraft inbound." Josh nodded and looked to the helmsman.
"Helm, right full rudder. All engines, ahead flank. Man anti-air guns, we're standing at the gates of hell, and we're about to send the enemy in ahead of us." At that moment, the ship's doctor came in, looking rather ragged and covered in blood.
"One of the batteries was strafed last time, I've got several crew from the AA positions in sickbay. Who's going to man their guns?"
As if in answer, several ship-board Marines came forward and requested to be assigned to the AA guns left vacent by the wounded. This got the doctor's attention and he frowned.
"You Marines don't know how to operate ship-board weapons, and on top of that you do not have any flak armor, what if you get killed?" In response, the commanding Marine laughed.
"Haven't you heard doc? Marines don't die, we just go to Hell and regroup."
Before anyone could say anything else, the group of Marines hotfooted it out of the bridge and made their way to the batteries on the port side of smokestack 1.
The Tribal, Aurora, and Minotaur were soon in formation with the Beowulf and as soon as they could hear the drone of the engines above, they opened fire with everything they had. Through the commotion, Josh kept hearing a crackling noise through the radio and finally, on a whim, grabbed the radio and held it close to his ear.
"Atten...ian Fleet...the 1524...ulinar Supp...ing...Syllian...eet...y.u...copy?" Josh immediatly keyed the radio.
"Attention incoming wing, this is the Beowulf, we have lost our radioes and are unable to recieve you clearly. Switch you radioes to close range transmission and I'll be able to recieve you." Moments later a voice came through loud and clear.
"Attention Beowulf, this is the Tullanian 1524th Heavy Support Wing, outbound from Brooksfield. We are fifty-six strong and looking for a fight. Judging by the flak you're putting up I'd say you have a rather large furball coming down on your heads."
"You can say that again 1524. We have an enemy carrier, largest I've ever seen, and several aircraft-armed battlecruisers that have given us a black eye but are hanging back. We have a battle fleet including twelve battleships coming in to finish us off after the planes soften us up and could really use some help here."
"Well now that sounds like a right proper invitation. Beowulf, you just made my Saint's Day card list. We've been looking for a fight ever since you boys dropped anchor and started lending a hand. 1524 is divided into three wings: Eagle, Condor, and Falcon. Name's Major Lee Dixon, callsign Eagle 1, and we'll be you CAP until your boys get back in the air." Josh saw the faces of his crew bean when they heard that and he smiled.
"Well Eagle 1, I hope you like a pitched fight, those bastards have over two-hundred planes in the air at the moment and I don't believe their battlecruisers have launched theirs yet." Laughter came through next.
"Is that all? Shoot, we'll have that mess sorted out before those Praetorian boys get here."
THAT got Josh's attention.
"Praetoria?! The Empire's sending a force over?"
"Yep. Crossed paths with them a while ago, they were on support but radioed that they had a force inbound to White Sands to reinforce you. This battle, it's more than a skirmish. By our intel, you've traded blows with the Rotarian 2nd Special Carrier Fleet and are now closing with the Rotarian 26th Heavy Combat Fleet. We're just the first of your reinforcements. If you can hold out a little longer, you'll be getting more." Josh could barely keep the relief out of his voice.
"Thanks for the news Eagle 1. Give 'em hell."
"We fully intend to."
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The 1524th had been one of the few remaining squadrons still fighting after the occupation, primarily by engaging in hit and run attacks with transports and small fighter groups and moving from place to place. If there was one thing that could be said about Tullinar aircraft, they were not the fastest nor the most maneuverable planes in the air but there sure were the sturdiest.
Eagle Squadron was equipped with the T-40F, a heavy single seat fighter/ground attack aircraft armed with six bulky .50 caliber machineguns in the wings and capable of carrying bombs, rockets, or anything else. The common nickname for the T-40 fighter family was 'the Jug' or 'Juggernaut'. Condor Squadron was equipped with the twin-engine TP-39Ls which had an incredible mixed armament of four 20mm cannons and six .50 caliber machineguns and due to their high speed, were often called 'Lightnings'. Lastly was Falcon Squadron which was flying the last fighter Tullinar mass produced before the occupation, the V-166B single-seat fast interceptor. Armed with two 20mm cannons and eight .50 caliber machineguns, they were a force to be reckoned with.
Major Lee Dixon had been with the 1524 throughout the occupation and had been flying since the start of the war with the Damoneni Invasion. He had seen the first assault, the sacking of Vernon, the encirclement of the capital city, the retreat at Calais, and the valiant stand at Kukri. After that he had done a variety of hit and run missions and was already considered one of Tullinar's greatest pilots.
As the 1524 closed with the Rotarian planes, they seemingly were fixated upon the Syllian ships and nothing else as they attacked time after time. The Syllian ships were throwing up an impressive front of ack ack fire but it was obvious the gun crews were at their limits. After seeing how the enemy behaved, Dixon formed a plan.
"All planes, listen up, our objective is to prevent further losses of the Syllian force. Judging by the wreckage they seem to have lost two ships and have a third heavily damaged. Above all else protect the flagship, the battlecruiser Beowulf, there in the center of the formation. You are clear to engage and destroy any and all enemy planes in the air. Condor Squadron, you are going to engage that enemy carrier before it gets within protection range of those AA cruisers! Eagle will prtect you from enemy planes while you attack and Falcon will provide a CAP to the fleet!"
A chorus of confirmations came through the radio as each plane dove onto the still unaware enemy and, upon firing into the massed dive bombers moving to attack the Minotaur, shattered the enemy plane formation like a brick through a glass window. Dixon smiled as he shot down one of the planes.
"Yeah, that's right, wonder where the hell we came from you bastards!"
Gazing about for another target, he saw one of the Falcons down another and then engage a group of three torpedo bombers starting their runs.
"Engage the torpedo bombers! If the Syllians lose the Minotaur, they lose half their strength with that cruiser!"
The Condors were turning and lining up in formation behind Condor One, the lead plane with the famous 'droop-snoot' design. Droop-snoot TP-39s were planes modified but having the solid, gun-laden, nose replaced with a frame and glazed glass canopy to fit a bombadier and the N-107 precision bombsight. Formations of these planes would line up behind the designated lead and drop their ordnance when they saw the lead plane drop their's. Each TP-39 was armed with either four 1,000 pound bombs or ten 15 inch plane-launched anti-ship (PLAS-15) rockets.
In the distance, making all haste to get under the protective fire range of the AA cruisers was the enemy supercarrier, smoke billowed from it's smokestack indicating the crew in the boiler room were likely burning everything but the kitchen sink to try and boost the ship's speed. The only escorts with it were the two cruisers that had been damaged but survived while the destroyers were dropping depth charges in an effort to sink a sub that was shadowing them. As Dixon thought how best to fot to the situation, a loud voice came through the radio.
"This is Ross! I am reloaded, refueled, and returning to action! All ships be advised, Warbird Squadron took off before us and have headed towards the main fleet on intercept course!"
Dixon returned his attention to the Condors and saw that they were almost to the carrier when flak started exploding all around them. He gazed down and saw that the AA cruisers, seeing what the squadron intended, had broke from the fleet and had all but chased down the carrier in an effort to shield it.
"This is Eagle One, all Condors disengage! That flak is too thick!"
For a moment he was worried the order had come too late when he saw rockets streak from the clouds and slam into one of the AA cruisers. Moments later, twelve planes painted in Syllian colors blew through the cloud cover and started launching a second attack on the second AA cruiser.
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Reyson was seeing red. He had rushed the rearmamnet of his squadron to engage the enemy carrier and now the Tullinar wing had blown his surprise attack. Still, he had Gerald's squadron ready to attack, all he had to do was clear the enemy AA cruisers and the ship would be exposed and all planes could attack the enemy fleet unimpeded.
As he pulled the trigger, he smiled as one of his rockets went down the funnel of the second AA cruiser causing a brilliant explosion in the belly of the ship which sent a fireball blasting from the smokestack. He broke off from his wing, they knew their objectives, and circled about to finish off the disabled vessel.
'BANG!'
The explosion of the flak burst was so loud it momentarily deafened him. He felt something wet on his face and saw that an oil line had burst, spraying him with oil. He checked his panels and saw that the gauges were going crazy and that though the canopy had held, it was still like looking a a stained glass window in a cathedral.
An electric beep got his attention and he saw that he was losing fuel, and altitude, fast.
Gripping the flight stick, he managed to straighten out the plane and then angle it towards the enemy carrier. In one last effort, he fired the two remaining rockets at the ship and through sheer luck, both impacted the thinly armored flight deck and exploded below where ammunition and fuel was held.
A MASSIVE explosion shook his plane and he saw the port flight deck actually catch fire and flip up and over onto the other deck, spreading the flames to the ammo, fuel, and planes on the other side which also exploded.
His radio wasn't recieving anything but the transmitter light still shown green. As the AA cruisers angrily poured flak at him for ruining their defence, he keyed the radio.
"Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. This is Warbird 1. I am hit and am going down. I...I confirm two hits on the enemy carrier. Can anyone see if it's sunk?"
There was silence for a moment and he keyed the radio again.
"I'm unable to return to the Bastion and have lost lateral controls. I'm going to have to ditch into the ocean. Warbird 1, signing off."
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Josh saw the plane hit. He saw the two rockets that crippled the enemy carrier. Then, the radio came to life.
"Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. This is Warbird 1. I am hit and am going down. I...I confirm two hits on the enemy carrier. Can anyone see if it's sunk?"
Josh grabbed the reciever and yelled into it.
"Warbird 1 this is Beowulf, we confirm disabling of the enemy carrier! If you can hear me, come about and try to bail out near the ship!" Josh turned to the Gunnery Chief.
"Chief! Have out turrets focus on those AA cruisers, blast those bastards down to the Abyss!" As Josh said this, the radio came on again.
"I'm unable to return to the Bastion and have lost lateral controls. I'm going to have to ditch into the ocean. Warbird 1, signing off."
Josh watched as the plane started billowing smoke and fire from the cowling and it started a descent towards the water. All the while, he kept hoping to see the tell-tale white of a parachute. As the plane went down, he lost sight of it behind the carrier before it appeared again, thirty feet off the ground.
An enemy AA cruiser that had been following the plane's descent, fire a point blank burst of flak at Reyson's plane. Josh watched in horror as the tail section was ripped free and the wings broke and the rest of the plane plunged into the cold ocean water. Asecond later, the cannons of the Beowulf opened fire with a broadside that ripped the enemy vessel's starboard side open. Within seconds, the ship rolled onto its side and sank. The crew never having stood a chance to get to a lifeboat.
As if expecting the order from Josh, Anne had the 'Man Overboard' claxon sound and the Beowulf broke formation to steam towards the crash site.
When they arrived though, all they found was an oil slick, some light debris, and Reyson Havver's white Ace's scarf.
The scarf was stained with blood.
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Okay, this chapter ran a little long so I had to add another part to the battle. For those of you wondering, is Reyson dead? Well, let me leave you with the words of General MacArthur.
'Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.'