The Attack

It began at dawn. Even as he trudged through the mud, water lapping at his ankles, Josh could still not believe this was the real thing. He was still disorientated from his short sleep. But he had to concentrate – this wasn’t just a training exercise.

            Josh was part of an attack squad heading for a chemical weapons plant on an island nine miles south of Cuba. A certain terrorist organisation turned the island into a base. The plant had to be destroyed to prevent biological warfare.

            The sound of a vehicle drawing near made everyone look up, alert.

            “Get down!” whispered the Commander.

            Josh reluctantly buried his face in the dirt. He could feel beetles crawling over his head and hoped they wouldn’t be down long. Yet stealth was essential in creating the element of surprise.

            Ten seconds later, the squad started advancing again. Suddenly, the thick foliage fell away, taking everyone by surprise. In seconds, six searchlights and eight machine guns were trained on them. So much for the element of surprise.

            Josh didn’t have much time to see the base before the firing began. Yet he did catch a glimpse.

            It was made up of three buildings – two modern and metal. The third was a large brick structure. It had two large white storage cylinders as large as the building attached to it. That must be the factory – what they had to destroy.

            The complex was surrounded by a perimeter fence – made of metal and six metres high. Guard towers were placed at intervals along it.

            Tanker trucks were queued up behind an electronic barrier. They had the biohazard symbol painted on the side. There were more positioned round the fence. That struck Josh as rather odd but he didn’t have time to ponder as just then, a barrage of bullets flew through the air at them.

            “Retreat!” The order could hardly be heard over the firing. Trees were getting ripped apart behind him as he dashed back through the jungle, darting between the trees.

            A missile fell in front of him, showering him with sand and dust, then a grenade exploded right next to him.

            It was lucky Josh wasn’t in a confined space, or the grenade would have blown him apart. Instead, it knocked him off balance. He could taste blood in his mouth – he’d bitten his tongue. He could hear jets screaming overhead, then a gattling gun being started up. Sand was thrown up around his feet, as he danced around trying to avoid the bullets.

            The trees were decimated behind him as he dashed through the jungle. Josh was terrified he would feel a searing pain, the pain of a bullet. He was sprinting away from the plant, he hoped.

            But the trees fell away again, showing Josh the back of the base. He noticed at once that the enemy had made a mistake. All their defences seemed to be concentrated on the front. The guard towers were empty. There were lots more tanker trucks, but that didn’t worry him. They were probably waiting to be filled with poisonous chemicals. He was just about to approach, when a voice crackled through his radio.

            “All units…stay away from tankers…they are fake…high explosives…proximity detonators.”

            Josh stopped dead, picked up a stone and threw it at a truck.

            The tanker exploded before the rock hit. The cabin and tank disintegrated in a ball of flame, while the chassis was driven into the ground. Josh decided against going any further. He was just about to turn back when the explosion came.

            The very air vibrated. The ground shuddered so that Josh felt his bones rattle. A tonne of earth was thrown up then came crashing down. All of the tankers exploded simultaneously, filling the air with smoke and fire. Josh could not breathe, he could not see. He could smell toxins hanging in the air.

            The smoke thinned and Josh saw a Humvee with a red cross on it speeding towards him. With a sense of gratitude, he passed out.

                                                                                                                by Harry Brooke