Juniper’s Daughter: The Final War, A novel by Nick Armbrister

Juniper’s Daughter:
The Final War,
A novel by Nick Armbrister

Captain Cocksucker ordered his guns to fire again, high explosive onto the same targets, mixed with gas shells to subdue the enemy and to save his infantry. After five minutes each shell was a gas shell, popping open mid flight over its own target area to disperse a green coloured cloud of knockout gas. Breathe that in and you’d be out for twelve hours and have on hell of a hang over, worse than the ‘shine. No one would beat him again but he relished a challenge, it made him the man he was today, in his element facing military problems in battle. He ordered a steady firing pattern on the areas of interest, he would get his prisoners and finish off the rest with bullets and bayonets and point blank howitzer fire(like the Soviets did in Berlin, firing over open sights, he loved his military history, especially when he created it).
In their position on the green in front of the flats, Sarah saw the gas shells disperse their cargo of gas. She went white, how was this possible? This meant they faced Captain Cocksucker and that they had big problems.
“Guys, I think that’s knockout gas, not nerve gas. It’s not Sarin or similar as that’s colourless,” she said.
“That’s fuckin’ great. The cunt wants us alive!” John shouted.
“Fuck that, I’ll shoot myself first” Lee warned.
“Don’t panic lads. Get your cocks out!” Sarah demanded.
“What did you say? We’re not pissed up now Sarah,” John shockingly spoke.
“I mean it! Much as I’d love to suck your cocks again, I’ve got a plan. Come on!”
“Hey, I know what she means!” Red shouted.
“What?” Gun Barrel said perplexed.
“You know in the old films on a U-Boat? When they was depth charged and the batteries was bust, the gas leaked gas. They pissed on rags and breathed through them to live,” Red excitedly said.
“Got it in one!” Sarah exclaimed.
“But what do we piss on?” Lee asked.
“These old t-shirts I’ve been saving for just this moment. Now show me your cocks again lads! And piss away!” Four big lads got their cocks out and pissed onto the old t-shirts Sarah gave out. She loved the site of their cocks, wanted to suck them, to fuck them all as before. In her heart she knew that was impossible, would never happen, that someone would be killed today. Just in time! Green gas came their way. Soon the infantry would creep upon a sleeping enemy and kill them as they slept and take a few prisoners to torture.
English army infantry slowly advanced through the green mist wearing full respirators giving them a bug like appearance of menace and coldness, heads moving side to side scanning for movement or danger. Guns at the ready, safety catches off. Five hundred well trained men intent on success at all costs, rooting out trouble having bayoneted thirty sleeping freedom fighters, capturing five for interrogation. Gunfire! One group by the old power station had gas masks! Old World War2 ones bulky when compared to the modern twenty first century ones but equally effective. Tracer fire fanned out from the station roof and side windows, glowing blue against the green fog like smoke of the gas, cutting into lead elements of troops killing and maiming them. Molotov cocktails and moonshine fire bombs were hurled forth, falling short causing no damage just visually spectacular. No heavy weapons but small arms fire, fired wildly like a trapped animal’s desperate defence. No problem as the army knew this was the location of the moonshine distillery; they called down heavy 155 fire, high explosive to demolish and burn the target. Support fire from four howitzers destroyed the concrete building with direct and indirect fire, toppling the hundred foot chimney onto the roof, setting off the ‘shine tank in a thunderous roar of flame. Broken pipes leaked almost pure alcohol onto the ground, spreading like water igniting like a sea of death from Hades itself, hundreds of litres burned, exploded, vaporised in a image of death amazing and stunning the soldiers. One group of men caught too close burned alive, running with arms waving, falling to their knees, onto their fronts, dead – nice and crispy. A nauseating smell of burnt flesh wafted through the air. Bypassing the burning power station English troops fanned out across the estate, bayoneting and taking more prisoners, loading those taken alive into Armoured Personnel Carriers to be rushed to rear positions to be interrogated.
The trio saw the power station explode as troops advanced upon it, stopping due to small arms fire and firebomb attack. A small stockpile of old gas masks served a lost cause, brave but futile, no one came out alive from the burning power station. Tears streamed down Sarah’s face, due to gas or the loss of trusted fighters and friends? John looked angry, a look of revenge on his face as he fidgeted in the trench, Lee undid his safety and aimed his weapon down the path the soldiers must surely pass. Red passed along rocket launchers and boxes of warheads, Gun Barrel thought of how to use the trike. Green gas swirled reducing visibility for seconds at a time, making the fighters cough and drowsy as the piss dried reducing its affect. Suddenly… soldiers appeared grey against the smoke, surreal spectres of another time, bug like with guns probing like proboscis.
“There they are! Get ready, fire when I say so, not before. They’ll think we’re asleep. Fire for effect making each round count; use the rockets on any heavy vehicles with warheads on armour piercing. If the troops look like overwhelming us, set warheads to blast effect. Lets fuckin’ do this!” Sarah ordered.
“I’m with you. See you all in Hell!” Lee shouted.
“Fuck yea!” from John.
Red and Gun Barrel did the freedom fighters cry for victory, the others copied it, the English soldiers heard this but Sarah screamed, “Open fire! Open fire! Kill the cunts!”
Gunfire sped forth from their position on the green hitting lead elements cutting them down like dominoes, no return fire at all. John, Lee and Sarah fired Heckler and Koch SP-71 assault rifles on semi automatic cutting soldiers down with single or triple shots from just over a hundred yards, Red used an old Kalashnikov on full auto spraying bullets like a watering can, reloading every three seconds. He had plenty of spare mags; Gun Barrel preferred a sniping rifle with telescopic sight, slowly working through his ten round mag with the care of a professional. As the troops went to ground fifty yards away, some attempted to rush the trench but paid a bloody price, Red, Gunny, Sarah, John and Lee swapped weapons to blaze away with Uzi machine guns putting down hundreds of nine millimetre bullets onto a killing ground hitting, killing, wounding a hundred soldiers. Bodies piled up like acorns beneath a tree, spent and unwanted. Accurate return fire came back from troops out of site; some sniping from the rooftops, in the murk no one could spot these. John picked up his assault rifle, Red his Kalashnikov to hose down the roof tops on full auto but the fire still came in, just missing Lee. He swore and fired at the group of bodies desecrating the already dead. Soon they would be outflanked as the enemy went up parallel streets hundreds of yards off to the right and left, with a roar a heavy shell came in and landed twenty metres wide shaking the ground to shower the trench full of fighters with earth and grass, shrapnel zinging through the air. Time to leave! They couldn’t see the howitzer, it must be behind the flats using indirect fire or using the smoke from the burning power station as cover. John shouted and everyone picked their weapons and remaining ammo and fled the trench, bending double running to the wall where the trike was parked. Not fast enough! With a roar of a jet engine and the force of a locomotive, a heavy shell descended onto the trench hitting it in a flash of flame and black smoke. Shrapnel zoomed out zinging through the air, hitting one of the group who fell like a sack of potatoes, screaming and cursing at the same time. The others made the wall.