ARMAGEDDON'S SONG (Volume 3) 'Fight Through' (60 page)

“Three…I can confirm three targets destroyed!”

“What..?” the President was frowning. “Three targets
where, Dago or Sydney?”

“San Diego, Mr President…this is Lieutenant
Commander Hastings, O.O.D of the
USS
Mobile Bay
, I can confirm three
targets destroyed, SPY2 is clear, there are no further targets!”

“How many?” the President asked urgently. “How many
missiles did you launch in order to destroy all three targets?”

“Over a hundred at Pearl, Mr
President…perhaps more.”

“Two hundred and four SM3s and thirty Patriots were
launched here at San Diego…I don’t know at what point we killed all three…”

Commander Willis interrupted at that point.

“I am stepping out on the bridge wing Mr
President…there is no longer light pollution here since the blackouts were
imposed…beautiful night…okay, the air raid sirens have just begun to sound in
the city…police car sirens too…ships in the
harbor
are sounding ‘collision’…”

Over the speaker they could hear the wailing of the
sirens on shore, it sounded reminiscent of old news reels of London’s Blitz, but
the combined ships sirens input seemed celebratory rather than a warning of
approaching danger.

“Orange County is launching!”

Only several hundred yards distant the air defence
picket for the aircraft carrier began launching her entire inventory of sixty
eight Standard 3 missiles, ripple firing continuously. The noise was
horrendous, drowning out the words even though Commander Willis was shouting in
order to be heard.

It was midnight in Sydney, the ships sirens and the
missiles launching vertically created the impression for some residents that
perhaps the war was over?

“That’s it…”
shouted Commander Willis’s voice over the speakers. The sirens on shore and in
the
harbor
were again audible.
“’Rounds complete’ as my father would have
sai
…”

The shriek that emitted from the speaker at that point
was electronic, not human; it tore at the senses while it lasted, only as long
as it took for an electro-magnetic pulse to burn out the microphone and
transmitter at the other end.

All eyes were on the now silent speaker, willing the
voice of Commander Willis to resume.

A small tiny voice broke the silence, issuing from a
telephone receiver hanging by its cord.

Terry lifted the receiver and listened before speaking.

“I’m sorry, he is not available right now but please
repeat
what it was that you were just saying?”

General Shaw was walking with a straight back to the
conference room’s door. Only the marine sentry could see his expression and the
look on the young man’s face spoke volumes.

“Mister President, the Missile Defence Agency confirms
a nuclear detonation in the ten megaton range, one minute ago above Sydney,
Australia.”

Little Rock: Montana: Same time.

In a hardened shelter in Colorado code named ‘Church’,
a plasma screen displayed icons for two helicopters lifting off the carrier
Mao
, both
machines were designated for an anti-submarine sortie, and both headed
unerringly toward a small submarine icon bearing an Australian flag…

To be continued in Volume 4
of Armageddon’s Song, the final part of the series ‘Crossing the Rubicon’.

I will be posting updates on the series page on
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/ArmageddonsSong
and my Blog at
http://andyfarmansnovels.blogspot.co.uk/

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Andy Farman was born in Cheshire, England in 1956
into a close family of servicemen and servicewomen who at that time were
serving or who had served in the Royal Air Force, Royal Navy and British Army.
As a 'Pad brat' he was brought up on whichever
RAF base his Father was posted to.

Andy joined the British Army as an Infantry Junior
Leader in 1972 at the tender age of 15, serving in the Coldstream Guards on
ceremonial duties at the Royal Palaces, flying the flag in Africa, and on
operations in both Ulster and on the UK mainland.
In 1981 Andy swapped his green suit for a blue
one with the Metropolitan Police.
With volunteer reservist service in both the
Wessex Regiment and 253 Provost Company, Royal Military Police (V) he spent
twenty four years in front line policing, both in uniform and plain clothes.
The final six years as a police officer were served in a London inner city
borough and wearing two hats, those of an operation planner, and liaison
officer with the television and film industry.

His first literary work to be published was that of a
poem about life as a soldier in Ulster, sold with all rights to a now defunct
writers monthly in Dublin for the princely sum of £11 (less the price of the
stamp on the envelope that the cheque arrived in.)

The 'Armageddon's Song' trilogy began as a mental
exercise to pass the mornings whilst engaged on a surveillance operation on a
drug dealer who never got out of bed until the mid-afternoon.

On retirement, he
emigrated
with his wife to the Philippines.