Palmachim Airbase

Israel

October 19th, 2025

As the speech ended, and the American president walked off stage, the TV was muted. Stunned silence filled the room as everyone from Blackhawk pilots, to drone operators, and Shaldag commandos sat or stood unmoving, still processing what they had just seen. From the moment the speech began, to the very end, no one said a single word. Even as the photos and recordings of that other world were shown across the TV screen. Even as they watched the brutal execution of a young Jewish girl, no one said a word. Some walked out, some vomited, others punched nearby objects, but no one spoke. Every rank, from private, to even a full bird colonel was present in the room during the speech. No one spoke a single word. Some quietly sobbed, thinking about the fates of their ancestral families in such a world, of all the Jews that were mercilessly killed, and of what few might still be left, trying to hide in a world where the Nazis had been victorious, where even the United States fell to their might.

Such a world would be cold, miserable, and cruel beyond all measure. The Nazis had slaughtered millions during World War 2, and they still lost in the end. None of them wanted to think of a world where they had won. The number killed would be indescribable. A world where no corner of the globe was safe, where no matter where Jews may flee, they'd be sought after, and killed. A world without an Israel for the Jewish people to call home. A world that only knew cruelty and injustice. A world, many of them felt, would soon bear witness to the resolve of the Israeli people, and its military. While there hadn't yet been a response from the Israeli government, or any government for that matter, it was obvious that Israel would undoubtedly join the United States in their "crusade of righteousness", as the American president called it.

Even if America hadn't called on her allies for help, Israel would damn itself to ruin and ridicule if it wasn't the first nation to offer its help in such a situation. Many of those in the room believed their nation would call upon them to serve in this other world. All of them would gladly volunteer to serve in this other world. A world where a victorious Axis Powers lord over the world, and God's chosen people suffer under their heel.

For Moshe Levine, whose family had fought against the Nazis during WW2 in the United States Army, and again in the 1948 War of Independence, he felt duty and honor bound to serve in this other world. No matter what would be asked of him, he would do it. If it meant saving his people, and killing Nazis, he would gladly take part in it. A righteous crusade indeed.

"What the fuck did we ever do to deserve this?" came the voice of one of the Shaldag commandos, Daniel Edelson. "That little girl...she did nothing to deserve that." his voice cracked slightly as he spoke.

"They're all going to die," said one of the drone pilots. "We'll fucking kill every last one of them."

"Won't take but a single warhead on Berlin to take those bastards out!" another said. "And another hundred for good measure!"

"Makes you wonder how the Koreans and Chinese feel about the Japanese Empire being back." Moshe said absentmindedly, staring blankly as the newscasters on the TV gestured wildly, and were no doubt shouting expletives on the air.

"Just as eager to kill the bastards, I reckon," Adele Cohen replied. "They'll be just as happy to get at them as we are to get at the Nazis. Hell, the Chinese got an army equal to that of America, with a navy nearly as large. It's a hop, skip, and a jump for them to give the Japanese a kick in the ass. We'd have to go through America to put our boys on the ground."

"I doubt they'd say no to it honestly. They seem to be calling up the whole world to help fight, don't see why they wouldn't let us fly over, and lend a hand. Besides, America's got the second largest Jewish community in the world, they'll have no problem letting us join in if we offer, and I guarantee you half the country will want to fight."

"Even vaunted American logistics wouldn't be able to handle all the volunteers that'll be itching to fight those fascist bastards." Captain Abraham Rosenberg added. "Doesn't mean they won't try though. Even the Russians will volunteer for it."

"The Americans and Russians hate each other sir," Levine replied. "Even all these years later, Russia still despises them after the thrashing they got in the eighties."

"You say that as if the Russians didn't give as good as they got. Russians still made NATO bleed, they just bled more themselves."

"Fair enough sir. I just can't see the Americans letting it happen."

"Well it's not just the Americans, you know." Adele said. "There's China, Korea, our Japan, Hawaii, and everyone else in the Pacific. They'll all have a say in how this goes."

"I guess you're right. But I-" before Levine could continue, the person with the remote began to quiet everyone down.

"Hey, Prime Minister's on the TV, shut your mouths!" said a Warrant Officer who unmuted the TV, and turned the volume up. The face of Israeli Prime Minister, Naftali Bennet came on screen, anger and sadness visible across his face as he took up position at the podium, and began his speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the State of Israel, and to all those who may be watching around the world," Bennet began. "Today is a dark day in the chapter of the world. A day where the security of our nation, and the entire world, is threatened by a foe we long since thought defeated. A foe that vanquished at the end of the Second World War, with those responsible for committing terrible atrocities on its behalf, were brought to justice. But today, those thoughts were proven to be wrong. A world where those same forces proved victorious over the allies, and spread their reign of terror and oppression across the entire world. A world that now shares connection to our own."

"A world where, as we all just saw, the evil of that inhabits it, has spread its vile tendrils to this world. First the Nazi bounty hunters who chased down that poor girl in Colorado, and now an entire Japanese Fleet sitting off Pearl Harbor, in the Kingdom of Hawaii. While it is unclear as to how exactly these events occurred in the first place, what is clear is the threat posed by these events. There's nothing stopping more events like this from happening, and only the almighty himself knows what will happen then. But we must not sit idly by, and wait for this threat to show up on our doorstep."

"Our closest ally, the United States, has already deployed military forces in this other world to gain a foothold, and to keep back the advance of axis forces in that world. According to my sources, even now American forces are engaged in combat as we speak, and have already begun preparations for the deployment of naval forces through the anomaly sitting off the Hawaiian coast. While America has called for its allies in the Pacific Rim Defence Pact to its aid, and a request to NATO will soon follow, I refuse to wait to be asked to partake in something any Israeli soldier would proudly volunteer for."

"I have called for an emergency meeting with the Knesset to convene as soon as possible to discuss the deployment of Israeli Defence Force personnel to the United States."

Those were the words everyone in the room was waiting for. They all knew it was coming, they were just waiting to hear it officially first.

"There it is," Adele murmured, just as a few others in the room had. "We're going to war."

"Only question now is whose gonna be sent. It's not like we have neighbors that hate us or anything." Moshe said sarcastically.

"The Arabs won't do anything stupid." Captain Rosenberg said. "They got their own problems, and even if they didn't, they wouldn't stand a chance. Not even Iran will try anything that stupid. Like the Russians and The Federation, they've got too many problems at home, and with their neighbors, to try anything."

"One can only hope at any rate." he said, turning his attention back to the TV.

"Which is why I'm authorizing the mobilization of reserve units across Israel, to not only bolster our homefront, but to form from them a unit that can be deployed against this new enemy. Make no mistake, the threat we face in this other world is not one we can ignore. We wouldn't ignore the existence of Nazi Germany in our world, and we won't ignore this one either. The Americans have already begun, and we must not wait for trouble to show up at our front door first! The initiative must be taken if we are to keep these vile scum from our world, and there is no better way than to assist the Americans in their endeavor to build a base in this other world!"

"With the United States, and its allies across the world, I have no doubt that we will triumph over the axis powers that threaten the peace our world has enjoyed after the end of the Third World War, and indeed our very way of life. The existence of our very nation, would be an affront to Nazi Germany, and I know their existence is an affront to the State of Israel. The upcoming battle will be hard, but I have faith in the strength, courage, and resolve of the Israeli people, and of the Israeli Defence Force. I have faith that we will prevail in the upcoming trials that lay ahead, and that our nation, as will the rest of the allied nations of the world, triumph over the evil of the axis powers. May God bless the people and the state of Israel!"

October 19th, 2025/October 1962

New York City, American Reich

"This is not a sight I'll ever get used to." Sergeant Tony Garzia said as he looked through the ACOG scope of his M4 rifle at a patrol of SS men standing on a street corner and talking. Brown shirts with MP-40's and Kar98k's, marching up and down American streets, even this America's streets, was disturbing.

"Preaching to the choir, Sergeant." replied Private First Class Eugene Peterson, in a thick southern drawl. "Ever since we crossed the border, it's been nothing but jackboots and swastikas. Just fucking depressing."

"You're telling me, this is my home city, and it looks like little Berlin. Makes you wonder what it looks like in the south." Garzia said, realizing just what he had implied.

"Yeah, I know, Sergeant. I heard all about the concentration camps that still run down there. Fuck, I still remember that little girl's mother we found lynched by that psychotic fucker back in Canon. Lord only knows it's worse back in my home state. A concentration camp in my own fucking home town." nothing else was said for a few minutes as the two went back to keeping an eye on the street, watching, and waiting for anything unusual to happen. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. All they were waiting for was some new resistance member to arrive at the shop, and the two of them just so happened to be watching the potential point of arrival.

"I got movement off the subway." Corporal Charlie Hopkins called over the radio. "White male, mid to late 20's, brown hair, looks to be heading straight for the auto shop!" he said, right as Garzia and Peterson shifted position, and got eyes on the contact.

"Roger that, Hopkins, I have eyes on." Garzia replied, watching as the man stopped, and looked over at a group of SS men standing on a street corner. "Alright everyone, keep your eyes open, and chatter to a minimum. Warren warned us to keep our eyes open in case he's been followed, or god forbid, he's a fucking spy."

"Roger that!" a chorus of confirmations came over the radio.

"You really think he's a spy?" Peterson asked, sighting in through the scope of his M110A1, and locking it on the group of brown shirts who were watching the man as he approached the auto shop.

"I fucking hope not," Garzia answered. "Because if he is, we'll find ourselves elbow deep in brown shirts, and too far behind the lines for support."

"Save a bullet for myself, got it." Peterson said.

"Exactly."

As Joe Blake got off the U-Bahn, and walked down the subway stairs, he stopped and noticed a group of SS officers surrounding a man, checking his identification, and questioning him. He couldn't tell what they were saying, but he had a pretty good idea. He had successfully infiltrated a resistance group in here in New York City, masquerading as a moving company in an old run down building in East New York. His mission, and by extension that of Obergruppenführer John Smith, was nearly complete. When he finally arrived at the building in question, he knew that it was almost over.

For about a month, they've known the name of the East New York resistance leader was a man by the name of Don Warren, a former U.S. Army soldier who fought in The War, and that they operated out of the very building he was about to enter. The Reich could have easily come down on this place ever since then, but there was a much bigger picture here. It was his job to infiltrate the cell, gain the trust of Warren, and have them assign him a job. A job that involved transporting a truck containing an unknown cargo, and deliver them to Cañon City, Colorado, a small town that resides in the Neutral Zone.

Once he got the truck, Smith and his men would, should, move in, block off all the entrances, and take the cell down. That was the plan at any rate. But as he looked the building over, something wasn't right. At first, Jake thought he was just seeing things, but it soon became clear he wasn't.

On the roofs of at least two adjacent buildings, he saw men standing on the rooftops. Men who saw him see them, and subsequently ducked down, and disappeared from view. Joe couldn't help but feel an odd sensation in his stomach. The sensation that something strange was going on, but he didn't know what. With a sigh, he continued forth, brushing aside the mysterious rooftop men as members of the SS who were lying in wait, ready to strike when the order was given.

But little did he know, he couldn't have been any further from the truth.

Upon entering the auto shop, he was taken aback by what, or more specifically who, he saw inside. Aside from the workers, there were at least a dozen heavily armed, and armoured, soldiers standing guard inside. Soldiers with weapons and uniforms he didn't recognize, with American flags patches on their shoulders. Joe eyed them with suspicion, and the soldiers repaid him in turn, with a certain few, walking past him, and looking left and right at the loading bay he entered through. They checked right and left, before nodding, and throwing up some strange hand signals. This only made him even more nervous. If Smith and his men arrived here, they wouldn't know they were walking into a trap!

"Hey, uh, pal!" Joe said, to a man smoking a cigarette.

"Yeah," the man replied as he puffed out cigarette smoke.

"Do you know where the manager is?" he flashed the card to the man, and watched as he squinted for a second, before turning, and pointing up at the indoor balcony where the foreman could oversee the work floor. Joe merely nodded his head in thanks, and proceeded to the staircase that led upstairs. On his way, he encountered another of these soldiers, this time an Asian man, guarding the way upstairs. They both exchanged puzzled glances before Joe began jogging up the stairs.

As he climbed the stairs, and reached the room, he knocked on the wooden stanchion, and froze as half a dozen heavily armed men, and even a woman, turned to face him. He stood in the doorway for a few moments, too stunned to say anything, right as the man he assumed was the owner, turned around, and walked across the room to the counter.

"Are you the manager, Mr Warren?" Joe asked cautiously, his eyes still not leaving the 6 heavily armed soldiers who stood around the room, and kept a close eye on him.

"Yeah." Warren replied as he grabbed a bottle of Kentucky Whiskey, and poured some into his coffee

"You look nervous, kid!" one of the soldiers said with a chuckle.

"Be nice, Keener!" the woman said, in an accent that sounded vaguely familiar, but definitely not American. Pacific accent perhaps? Whoever she was, she certainly wasn't white, which made him wonder just how she was even in this city.

"Kid probably thinks we're gonna kill him, or something." another of them said. "You're among friends here buddy, so don't act so stiff." the man said, looking at Blake as he did.

"My name's Joe Blake." Blake said as he regained his composure. "I was told you had a job for me, Mr Warren."

"And who told you that, Joe Blake?" Warren asked, taking a long swallow from his mug as he looked up at the security cameras in the office.

"I didn't get his name, but he gave me this," Blake said, handing the card to Warren, who looked down at the card, and back up at him, before shaking his head.

"So this is what they're sending me now? Damn shame!" Warren said as he walked back over to the table with the soldiers. "It's a good thing I have you fine gentlemen and ladies here, they finally decided to send me some real soldiers."

"I want to help, Mr Warren!" Joe said defiantly, taking a step towards him and his men.

"How old are you, kid? twenty eight?"

"Twenty seven."

"Twenty seven." Warren said softly, shaking his head, and lighting the card he held in his hand, on fire. "What the hell are you doing here, Joe Blake? I thought I told them not to send me anyone else right now."

"I want my country back, sir." Joe replied smoothly, with not a hint of emotion in his face. While Blake couldn't see it, the two Captains in the room just looked each other, eyebrows raised, and suspicions thoroughly aroused.

"Bullshit," one of them muttered just loud enough for Joe to hear.

"And just who the hell are you?" Joe replied, glaring at the man who had said it.

"Captain Aaron Keener, United States Army Special Forces, that's who I am. And unlike you, I'm actually a soldier, not some punk off the street." Joe's eyes widened slightly, something that this 'Captain Keener' seemed to notice. Joe had heard some rumors about this 'Reborn American Army' in the Neutral Zone. He initially passed it off as just drunk ramblings, but it seemed to have gotten to the point where New York wanted to send some agents in to discover what was going on. Were these soldiers really them? From this army that just sprang out of thin air, and were now here too?

"What makes you so different from me, huh? I want my country back too!" Joe argued.

"Want it back? You never had it." Warren scoffed. "You were still sucking your thumb when the Nazis dropped the bomb. This shithole's the only country you've ever known." he said coolly.

"My father talked about what it was like before the war. He said every man was free."

"Well, Joe Blake," Warren said as he sat down, and clasped his hands together. "How do I know you're not a spy? And how do I know you aren't reporting to Johnny Jackboot out there?" he said, thumbing his finger to the screen behind him, before reaching for his coffee mug, and taking another sip.

"A spy? I'm not a spy."

"Most of the resistance is shot to hell and gone with spies from coast to coast. Which is why I find it suspicious that you happen to come along not after these fine gents, and lady," he paused, nodding to the one female with them. "Come here with the help I really need. And believe me, they've been real helpful since they arrived, whereas you?" Warren said as he stood up, and looked Joe dead in the eye. "You're just a punk who can get me caught. Now beat it, kid." he said, pushing Joe lightly across the shoulder.

"Now, where were we before-" Warren said, but was interrupted by the sound of one of the soldiers radio's blaring to life.

"I don't like the look of this," Private First Class Eugene Peterson said as he watched the group of jeeps and trucks moving up the street towards the auto shop. They were rolling too deep to be a regular patrol, and every street corner seemed to have at least three or four brown shirts standing watching, having monotonous conversations, but otherwise watching the building. Luckily for him and Sergeant Tony Garzia, neither of them had been seen on the adjacent rooftop, nor had any of their comrades on the four other buildings where the Green Berets ran overwatch.

"Either they followed that kid, or he's a fucking rat!" Corporal Hopkins said over the radio. "Got another jeep rolling up the road opposite of vantage point, no way they aren't coming here."

"Affirmative, got eyes on an armed patrol head in as well.

"Looks like they followed that dude off the subway, and they plan to pay him a visit. Tell the Captain they're about to have some company!"

"Already on it," Sergeant Garzia said. "Vanguard this is Wasp, we got hostiles approaching the auto shop on all sides, I say again, we have hostiles setting up on all sides, and getting ready to move, how copy?" the line was silent for a few moments, and Garzia gripped his rifle even tighter.

"Wasp, this is Vanguard, solid copy. Hold position and provide overwatch. The rest of the team will get into position with Captain Kelso's, and we'll cover the evacuation of the locals, how copy?"

"Solid copy, Vanguard," he replied as he flicked the safety off, and put his scope on the lead jackboot, who was armed with an MP-40. "This is where the fun begins."

The unsuspecting brown shirts moved forward, exiting their vehicles, weapons drawn, and ready to kill what they thought were unsuspecting traitors inside the auto shop. But those inside, as well as those watching their approach, were far from unsuspecting. While the jackboots certainly moved in a tactical manner, and were quiet about it, there were two distinct advantages the ODA teams had over them. The first was in terms of numbers. There were a total of twenty four Green Berets in and around the auto shop, ready and waiting for anything to happen. The total number of brown shirts, those that could be seen at the moment, was less than twenty. They were the attacking force, and the defenders already had them outnumbered, and certainly outmatched in terms of experience. The second advantage the soldiers held was in terms of weaponry and overall firepower.

While the long track to New York, into the heart of the American Reich, had succeeded, the Green Berets had been limited in what they could carry with them. No rocket launchers, no heavy weapons, or anything bulky. Despite that, they were all equipped with M4A1 SOPMOD's, M249 light machine guns, and M110A1 Marksman rifles, and even a single M32 grenade launcher, with 12 rounds. In contrast, the brown shirts were equipped with MP-40 submachine guns and Kar98K bolt action rifles. They were veritable museum pieces compared to what the Green Berets were using. More to the point, none of them had body armor, whereas the ODA teams had SAPI plate inserts in their vests.

Not only did the soldiers have superior firepower and ability to lay down much larger and more accurate rates of fire, their vests and helmets gave them a much higher degree of protection against gunfire and shrapnel. The Americans held every major advantage over the Nazis, and before long, it would show. The first shots were fired by the soldiers providing overwatch on the surrounding buildings. Suppressed M110A1's began to bark loudly into the night, followed by the screams and return fire of their targets. The Americans had the upper hand.

"WE'VE GOT INCOMING!" Sergeant Bernara screamed as he and two other members from ODA 0212 took up position behind whatever cover they could find, as two trucks rolled into the alley, their headlights illuminating the workers and resistance fighters trying to escape in the vehicles hidden away for just that purpose. "FIRE!" he yelled at the top of his lungs as he let out a long chattering burst of fire from his M249 light machine gun. The bullets riddled the first truck, hitting the driver and passenger, which sent the truck swerving into a parked car. The second truck skidded to a stop behind the first, its troops dismounting from the back just as the survivors of the first did.

"ONE AWAY!" Private First Class Cole McMannon leveled his M32 grenade launcher, and let fly one round of high explosive which impacted the front end of the second truck, sending shrapnel flying, and men tumbling to the ground. A second loud thump sounded as he fired off another round, this time at the clustered infantry who were behind the first. Another loud explosion, and more screaming followed as Garzia and Specialist Blake Anders continued to engage the brownshirts. Most were dead or wounded, with what few that were left, desperately tried to take cover wherever they could find it.

The brownshirts who attempted to run into the autoshop, who were either assigned to raid it, or were trying to escape the hail of gunfire outside, found no respite. Eight Green Berets, and even a worker with a revolver, were waiting for them inside the auto shop, watching the entrance they tried to storm in through. Rifles barked and machine guns chattered, and the surviving SS men crumpled to the ground as if their bones had turned into jelly. The sickening sound of bullets tearing through flesh, not to dissimilar from someone taking a baseball bat to a watermelon, was drowned out by the sounds of gunfire.

"WATCH YOUR CROSSFIRE!" Sergeant Bernara ordered as he saw Captain Keener exit the building, firing his M4 at the few remaining brownshirts that were taking cover. He watched the rest of his team began taking up position on the corners of buildings, and began laying down fire at unseen targets. Another loud thump indicated the underslung grenade launchers had fired, and the explosion that followed, and the horrific screams of men, told him that the grande found its target.

"BEHIND US!" one of the resistance members behind them yelled.

Specialist Anders turned to look behind and saw a Kubelwagen darting down the street, and heading straight for them.

"Shit!" he cursed, as he got up, and began sprinting to a dumpster on the street adjacent to the truck. Once behind cover, he opened fire on the vehicle, its driver swerving to avoid getting hit, and crashing into two parked cars. The SS men inside quickly jumped out, trying to find cover from the hail of gunfire coming their way. Anders fired three rounds, and struck the driver, who crumpled to the ground. But the other three quickly found cover, and began to return fire with their rifles and submachine guns, and not all at him. One of the resistance fighters who was trying to get into the truck to escape, was cut down by a rifle round through the back, sending blood and viscera spurting out the exit wound in his chest. One of the fighters fired back with a pistol, firing wildly, and hoping to hit something.

He didn't however, all he accomplished was getting the jackboots to take cover behind the parked cars, and aim their rifles at him. But before they could fire, more gunfire erupted from a nearby rooftop, and two of the three men jerked forward, and collapsed. The third, who spun rapidly on his heels, looked up at the rooftop the shots came from. The last thing he saw were two man sized shapes, followed by two flashes, as two rounds tore into his chest. One on the left side, one on his right. The man's knees gave out from behind him as he crumpled like lawn chair against the same car he sought cover behind, his eyes staring lifelessly at rooftop.

"GO GO GO, GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" one of the Green Berets yelled to the driver of the truck as he jumped into the passenger seat, while another jumped in the back to protect the resistance members inside. The driver wasted no time obeying that order. He put the truck in gear, and slammed his foot on the peddle.

"Team, this is Hornet, we've got heavy enemy reinforcements rolling in from the east, including a jeep with a mounted gun. Highly advise you pull out before you get overrun!" Sergeant Leroux warned over the radio.

"Roger that, Sergeant!" Captain Kelso replied. "Team, pull back, and rendezvous at the assigned fallback positions! Overwatch teams pull out, and get off those rooftops!"

"Standby!" Specialist Alonzo said over the net, confusing everyone until a loud explosion tore through the air, followed by another, and another. Then, the lights all over the street, and the blocks around them, shut off, leaving them in the dark. That was until the Green Berets put on their NVG's, and had a cat's eye view in the dark.

"Fuck yeah, I knew that shit would work!" Private First Class Reynolds cheered out.

"Damn right, hermano! That should light a fire under their asses!"

"Cut the chatter dammit!" Captain Keener ordered. "Team, you heard Kelso, get your asses in gear, and pull out. I'll be damned if we get cut off here!" A chorus of affirmations followed, and the remaining Green Berets left around the autoshop began to pull out. That was until the sound of helicopter blades overhead drowned out all other sound, and the street was illuminated in a bright spotlight. Then, the sounds of gunfire and ricocheting bullets sent the soldiers scrambling for cover. If that helicopter and its spotlight weren't taken out, there was a very good chance the Green Berets wouldn't make it out of this battle. The Nazis would surround them and keep them pinned down. If they got pinned down, things would turn real ugly. To make matters worse, the reinforcements spotted earlier were pulling up, and the machine gun on the Kubelwagen began to chatter.

"That machine gun is gonna tear us apart!" one of the soldiers yelled.

"SMOKE OUT!" Kelos yelled as she and three others tossed out smoke grenades, before ducking back down. Soon, the wall of smoke obscured the alley, and the soldiers were, at least for now, safe from the machine gun. Now all that left to worry about was the helicopter.

McMannon looked up at the flying nuisance, aiming his M32 grenade launcher carefully, before pulling back on the trigger twice.

THUMP!

THUMP!

The loud thumps were followed by an explosion and the shrieking of metal overhead. The burning wreck of the helicopter fell nearly atop of the newly arrived brownshirts, as it exploded into a fireball that took half a dozen men with them, and blocked the Kubelwagen's line of sight of the soldiers. Men that tried going around the burning wreck, and to the Americans, were quickly gunned down for their trouble.

THUMP!

Another round was fired as McMannon guessed the elevation needed for his next shot. His shot fired true, as another explosion kicked up behind the wreck of the helicopter, and even more men screamed out in pain and agony.

"Helicopters down, let's get the fuck out of here!" Keener ordered, gesturing for his team to pull back as he threw another smoke grenade to further obscure the ground between him and the Nazis. The sounds of engines rumbling from behind, with sweeping headlights illuminating the alley from the rear. Two trucks carrying more brownshirts tried to pin them arrive, and had arrived just a little too late to try.

THUMP!

THUMP!

Two more 40mm rounds, followed by a cascade of withering gunfire, and the two trucks skidded to a stop, beginning to burn, and what few men were left alive soon to be dead.

"Follow me!" Sergeant Bernara ordered as the remainder of his team began to follow him, sprinting as hard and as fast they could down the alley, and to the designated escape routes. Meanwhile, Keener, Kelso, and three volunteers held back and would be trackers, their night vision goggles giving them the advantage in the near pitch black conditions.

"Hold the bastards back!" Keener said as he swapped an empty magazine for a new one.

ʻAʻole e haʻalele nā mea ʻino!" Kelso spat as she emptied her magazine at three more SS men who tried to charge forward, firing wildly as they did. It was naught, as the men crumpled just as their dead comrades had.

"She said the bastards won't stop coming, sir!" McMannon said as he took up position next to one of his comrades, tapped him on the shoulder, and threw his thumb backwards. The soldier nodded, understanding what he meant, and began falling back. "And I ain't about to leave just yet!"

"Like hell, McMannon!" Kelso barked. "You and that grenade launcher are needed with the rest of the team, now get your ass outta here!" she ordered.

"But I can-"

"GO!"

Reluctantly, McMannon obeyed, and began falling back, watching as the now four Green Berets held the line, laying down fire as they tossed the last of their smoke grenades.

"Looks like it's lightening up," Keener said, noting that the SS men, and the rifle fire that accompanied them, had begun petering off greatly. Mostly due to how much fire the Green Berets had thrown against them.

"Now's as good a time as any to pull out, sir!" Sergeant Dawson said.

"Agreed, let's go before they decide to bring any more damn reinforcements." Keener acknowledged, nodding to his Sergeant, and pointing down the rear of the alley. Kelso did the same with the Private right beside her, and they took off in a hurry. Once they were away, Keener and Kelso tossed two flashbangs in the direction of the enemy, and pulled back to link up with the rest of their team.