War is not an adventure. It is a disease."-Antoine de Saint-Exupery

London, England

August 11th, 2011

Light streamed into the backs of the Warrior as the ramps lowered. The smell of gunpowder and the screams of the wounded greeted Corporal Willis as he stepped out of the Warrior. The IFVs had somehow gotten through the mass of people on the bridge and was droppings them off right next to Richmond Field. The rest of the section stumbled out shielding their eyes from the sun. As the men formed up a man jogged towards them waving his arm above his head.

"You unlucky buggers must be Second Rifles." the man said looking them over. His face was covered in soot and his uniform had numerous holes in it. Most of his left sleeve was burned off and he had a bandage wrapped tightly around his head like a turban.

"Bravo Company. We're full strength and ready to assist." Major Steve said with a nod.

"Leftenant Erin Cartwright at your service, sir." the man said as he snapped off a slopped salute.

"You're the highest ranking officer?" Major Steve asked as he returned the gesture.

"Well we did have a leftenant colonel with us when we were coming here but we got ambushed and he took a few rounds to the chest. That made me the commander of this hodgepodge group of men here. We have men from every unit in the British Army I'd like to say." Lieutenant Erin said as he scratched his bandage.

"We're here to reinforce you and assist in the movement of civilians." Major Steve said.

"Well we could use some reinforcin' but I'd suggest you don't mess with the civvies. They're moving around perfectly fine without us getting in the way. Just set your men up around the perimeter of the field. Just tell your men to give the helis enough room to get the last of the wounded out." Lieutenant Erin said.

Corporal Willis looked over the crude defensives. Nothing but sandbags stacked up to about chest height. While the bags might stop small caliber rounds they weren't enough of them to absorb the shock of a grenade or something along that sort. "Do you have anything we can beef up the defenses with?" Corporal Willis asked.

"What you see is what you get, mate." Lieutenant Erin said and shrugged. "Our perimeter is pretty thin. Ya' won't mind deploying your men, eh?"

"Not at all." Major Steve replied. He tapped his radio earpiece twice. "Second Rifles, perimeter defense! Do not fire unless fired upon! I don't need some bugger with an itchy trigger finger shootin' up civvies!" The men fanned out and took their positions. They really didn't have much to do besides watch the steady stream of civilians go by. Chinooks constantly landed and took off behind them. They had medics on board the Chinooks so they needed no help loading the wounded. It didn't take long at all for all the people who were WIA to get airlifted out of there. Despite the semi-calm aurora all of the men were tense and were ever vigil.

Rifleman Andrew didn't give a rat's arse about the Chinooks at the moment. He was trying to scan each face in the fast moving crowd. Jennifer had to be safe. She was visiting family here last time he heard from her. Sure they'd been broken up a few months but right then and there that didn't matter to him. He had to find her. He saw all walks of life in the stream of refugees. Poor, middleclass, rich. They were all heading in the same direction. Most didn't even bat an eyelash at the soldiers but a few peeled off and tried to enter their perimeter. They were always turned away and told to keep heading west where it was safe. Rifleman Andrew spotted what he thought may have been Jennifer. It was hard to tell because the woman's face was almost covered in blood. He kept an eye on her as she got closer. He sighed with defeat when he realized it wasn't her. Instead of giving up he kept searching for a needle in a haystack so to say.

"That's an ace house, eh?" Rifleman Anton said as he let his L110A1 rest on the sandbag wall. He looked over at Rifleman Stanley and laughed quietly to himself. The kid had fallen asleep standing up. "Oi." Rifleman Anton said and nudged him with his elbow.

"Yeah. What." Rifleman Stanley gasp suddenly wide awake. He went to bring his L129A1 to his shoulder but the more senior Rifleman Anton stopped him.

"That's an ace house." Rifleman Anton repeated bucking his head to the house across the street from them. It was a nice two story bungalow that was painted a pearly white. A suitcase and a few articles of clothes were scattered on the well-kept front yard. The front door was open and in the doorway was a teddy bear leaning against the doorframe.

"Too true. Wouldn't be able to afford it with an enlisted salary though." Rifleman Stanley said frowning. Rifleman Anton did the calculations in his head and came up with the same outcome. He couldn't help but frown too.

"So what was it like fighting the Tinnies?" Rifleman Eric asked one of the soldiers who had come in contact with the aliens.

"Fight?" the soldier snorted. "They tore me unit to feckin' shreds. I think McGregor and I were the only ones left from Sixth Battalion." The whole time the soldier spoke he never stopped scanning the area in front of him. It made Rifleman Eric nervous.

"What unit were you in?" Rifleman Eric asked scanning the landscape in front of him too. Not much to see but row after row of houses.

"Fifty-Second Lowland Regiment." was the soldiers brief replied. That explained to Rifleman Eric why the man said fucking so funny. He was Scottish.

"About how many rounds it take to kill the bastards?" Rifleman Eric asked as he tapped the trigger guard.

The soldier looked at him from the corner of his eyes for a brief second. "Loads of feckin' questions, eh. I only slotted one of the sheep fuckers and it took damn near a whole magazine." Rifleman Eric gulped making his adam's apple bob up and down like in cartoons. WAH-64 Apaches flew overhead firing their rocket pods. Rifleman Eric could feel the resulting explosions vibrate his bones. The stream of people slowed to a trickle and then stopped completely. He clenched his jaw so tight you would have thought it was wired shut. He could feel it; not long now.

Corporal Willis wasn't sure who first spotted it but he knew it was bad news as soon as someone yelled something that every infantrymen fears. "GAS! GAS! GAS!"

Corporal Willis wasted no time taking his gasmask out of its carrying case and slipping it over his head. He took out the plug and took a breath of rubbery tasting air. He looked to his left and right making sure the rest of the men were doing the same. Thankfully none of them had freaked out at the call. He hated wearing gasmasks. They restricted his vision and fogged up way too much for his liking. However at the moment it seemed like his best chance for survival.

Back at the FOB a group of stern faced officers were gathered around the screen showing the video feed from one of the dozens of Global Hawk UAVs circling over London. This one in particular showed a milky white cloud rolling heading towards the men at Richmond Green. The cloud flowed like a wave swallowing everything it came in contact with. It rapidly came closer and closer to the entrenched men. The tension was so thick in the room you could have cut it with knife when the gas cloud washed over Richmond Green obstructing it from sight. The officers could only hope the gasmasks would save the men. If not than the Battle of London was lost.

Lance Corporal David was bored out of his wits. The gas had been an interesting twist but only for a few moments. By now he expected to be standing on a pile of Tinnie corpses waving the Union Jack above his head and taunting the aliens to bring it on. This was nowhere close though. Never in a million years did he picture himself just standing around waiting for the enemy to come to him. He heard the sound of Apaches flying overhead. He looked up and caught glimpses of the helicopters as they passed. He cast his gaze into the endless mist in front of him and tried to think about his wife. The thought didn't get far though. He brought his L85A2 up to his shoulder and looked through the ACOG sight. He swore he saw a shadow dart from one house to the other. Lance Corporal David would have put his life on it. When he saw it again he wasted no time emptying half of his magazine at the phantom figure. What followed was a soul crushing silence. Everyone on the line tensed up in anticipation. What they were anticipating not many knew.

"Who the bloody 'ell fired!" Lieutenant Erin demanded over the radio.

"Sir, I had a hostile contact." Lance Corporal David reported still scanning the area. He didn't stop scanning until he heard footsteps coming up behind him.

"The fuck you think you doing?" the gas mask clad soldier growled. Lance Corporal David quickly glanced at the soldier's name tag above his heart and saw it was Corporal Willis.

"I saw a Tinnie." Lance Corporal David responded pointing to where he saw the shadow. Corporal Willis looked over Lance Corporal David at the appointed area.

"I don't see a fucking thi-" Corporal Willis' words were cut short by a flurry of bullets. Before his body could resist Corporal Willis threw himself against the sandbags just as a lance of fire pierced the air where he was a second before.

Lance Corporal David was slower to respond but he too pressed himself against the sandbags. A soldier next to him was even slower to respond and had his head blown off in the process. Lance Corporal David stared in horror as the corpse collapsed like some whacked him in the knees with a sledgehammer. What had once been the soldier's head resembled a smashed grapefruit. He kept blinking and hoped that every time he opened his eyes again the body would hopefully disappear.

"Come to papa!" Rifleman Alex screamed at the top of his lungs as he fired his LMG in long bursts throwing the concept of burst fire out the window. Of course his voice was muffled because of the gasmask but he didn't care. The more he yelled the better he felt. He couldn't what he was shooting at so instead he aimed wherever a muzzle flash pierced the cloud. He ducked down as rounds slapped into the sandbags and etched their way up until they ate up the space where he was standing a few moments before. As soon as the coast was clear he stood back up and fired at the ever increasing number of muzzle flashes.

"Grenade out!" someone yelled. He didn't see who or where the grenade landed but he did hear the muffled explosion. He ducked down behind the sandbags just as another flurry of enemy fire ate up his position. Even though the sandbags were about two feet thick he felt the impact of every round that hit it. Static in his radio earpiece burst to life as officers tried to their bests to coordinate accurate return fire. He swept his L110A1 in wide arcs hoping he hit something or at least suppressed whatever was chewing his section to bits.

Rifleman Kyle felt like he was suffocating under the rubber/charcoal mask. He had to put extra effort into breathing and it was taking a toll on him. Sweat beaded and dripped down his forehead pooling under his chin where the gas mask stopped. He wiped the mist from the gas mask lens and took several more laboured breaths.

He stood upright and immediately put his eye to the 5x scope. He couldn't aim anywhere near as well as he could without the unwieldy gas mask on but he would have to make due. If he didn't he would die but more importantly his friends in the unit would. He picked out one of many muzzle flashes and fired two quick rounds and moved onto the next target. Normally two 7.62mm rounds would be enough to put a man down but he had to remind himself that he wasn't facing normal human beings. Rifleman Kyle had to stop shooting, duck down below cover, and wipe the mist from the lens again. An explosion a few meters in front of the sandbags bombarded him with chunks of concrete. Despite the muffling effect of the gasmask he could still hear Rifleman Kyle yelling words that would earn him a smack behind the ear by his mother if he ever said such things. A smile crept across his sweaty face at the thought of his buddy whooping and hollering like a wild man.

The smile was immediately swept off his face when the soldier next to him stood up to shoot but took two rounds in the chest. Rifleman Kyle was immediately at the man's side trying his best to help. He winced when he saw first-hand what the Tinnie rounds could do to flesh. The two gaping holes in the man's chest gushed blood covering up the burn marks around the entrence wound. He would have thought that incendiary rounds would have cauterized the wounds but the miniature fountains erupting from the man's chest told him otherwise.

"Hold on, mate." Rifleman Kyle said calmly and a little louder than he needed to be as he put pressure on the bigger of the two wounds. When he put pressure on the wound a geyser of instantly erupted from the second one. The soldier let out a howl of pain and reached up to bat Rifleman Kyle's hands away. "Stay still!"

The man's hands shot up to his mask and tore it off before Rifleman Kyle could do anything about it. He sucked in a lungful of contaminated air and immediately started coughing. Thick yellow foam poured out of his mouth and his eyes seemed to bulge out of his skull. A spider web of black veins etched his neck and face making his skin look like a roadmap of a densely populated area. He jerked spasmodically and tried to yell spotting Rifleman Kyle's lenses with the vile foam. Then just like it started the soldier went limp.

"Son of a bitch." Rifleman Kyle murmured as he picked his rifle back up and returned to the firing line.

The cross was freezing cold against Rifleman Anton's chest. Normally he would have moved it to the outside of his shirt but the cold let him know he was alive. Which is more that could be said for several others around him.

"Die mother fucker die." Rifleman Anton whispered to himself as he fired a measured burst at a muzzle blast. "Die motherfucker die." Not many things fazed him. Unlike most of the men in the squad with the notable exception of Corporal David he'd seen service in Afghanistan. "Die mother fucker die." This was nothing like that though. In A-Stan, as the men who served there called it, you rarely saw your enemy but at least you knew they were human. Sure they fought like scared bitched but at least the Taliban was made up of human fighters. Now…Rifleman Anton didn't even know where to begin. "Die motherfucker die."

The thing that frustrated him most was at the moment he couldn't even see what he was shooting at. He just aimed where he saw a muzzle blast and squeezed the trigger. He didn't even know if he was hurting or even hitting what he was shooting at. He took a quick glance at the mangled bodies around him. Hopefully the Tinnies didn't know how bad they were hurting them.

"This is some bullshit!" Rifleman Stanley yelled over the fire as he slapped another magazine into his rifle. He reached a hand up to itch his neck. "They gas us and shoot us to pieces and we can't do anything about it! Sod all mate!"

"Sod all is right!" Rifleman Anton replied as he fired a neat five round burst towards a muzzle blast. The muzzle blast didn't reappear so he figured he killed whatever he shot out. Rifleman Stanley stood up and started firing again.

Rifleman Anton heard the roar of jet engines coming from behind. His well-trained ears were able to identify the distinctive rumble of Tornado GR4 Strike Fighters above the racket of combat. Those planes had saved his arse too many times to count in A-Stan so the roar was a welcome sound.

"Incoming napalm! Take cover!" one of the officers shouted over the radio. Rifleman Anton took cover behind the sandbags but a wave of heat washed over him. Even though he wore a gas mask he could smell the gasoline like smell of the napalm. He loved that smell.

Corporal Willis was the first one to stand up. He had his rifle ready of course. The houses that once stood across the street were all ablaze. The fire sucked in oxygen and the Tinnie gas clearing the air in a matter of minutes. He looked up and saw the Tornados circling above to see what effect they'd had on the battle. No more Tinnies remained; whether they were burning in the growing fires or retreated Corporal Willis didn't know. He preferred the former of the two options naturally.

Slowly he peeled the gas mask off his face. He took a tiny breath and waited for his lungs to burst in flames. When they didn't he took a deep breath and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. All along the line men tore off their gas masks and sucked in fresh air.

His radio crackled to life and Lieutenant Erin came on the line. "Okay mates bully job. We really kicked some arse." Corporal Willis looked around and frowned. A good number of men lay sprawled in unnatural positions. Some arse kicking. "We're picking up the wounded and heading towards the bridges. Single column. Wounded in the middle. Second Rifles take up the rear guard." The men filed out of the field and rallied on the road that led to Richmond Bridge. The men who had been at Richmond Green before the arrival of 2nd Rifles made up the front of the column, the walking wounded and men carrying stretchers filled in the middle, and the now bloodied men of 2nd Rifles made up the end of the column. They left the dead behind simply because they didn't have the men to carry them back.

"Sign off. Who's not dead?" Corporal Willis asked as the column of soldiers started moving. He was too tired to see for himself which members of his section had bit the dirt. Now that the combat adrenaline had worn off he felt like someone had beaten him with a cricket bat.

"David, here."

"Andrew, here."

"Anton, here."

"Kyle, here."

"Stanley, I'm fucked up but I'm not dead."

"Alex, here."

"Eric is alive and well."

Corporal Willis checked the names off mentally in his head. No one had died in his section. That honestly surprised him. He'd expected one causality. Up ahead was the bridge. If the Tinnies didn't decide to spoil his day than the engineers could wire up both bridges in about twenty minutes and their part in the battle would be over for a while. He could basically feel taste the shit food the Army chefs would be serving back at Heathrow.

"Tinnies up front! It's an ambush!" someone shrieked over the radio. Corporal Willis felt like shitting his pants when the words finally registered in his mind. Somehow the Tinnies had gotten behind them and the all-seeing buggers at HQ had failed to notice. Well it wasn't the first cock up the higher ups had made and it certainly wasn't going to be the last.

I'm sorry about the rather shoddy quality of this chapter. I had to rewrite this one from scratch and I know it sucks. The rest will be much, much, better with a lot more action.