Strange thing to hear, “September” echoing out, scattered and hollow, across the steep, desert valley.
Do you remember - the twenty-first night of September?
Love was changing the minds of pretenders,
While chasing the clouds away...
A flash of light, as if to illustrate a point. A bright plume of flame that illuminates the whole gorge; the harsh, sheer rock face, the scattered tents at the base of the cliffs and the prefab buildings, most of which are half-constructed, further up, and the hastily put-together defences - a mismatched wall of boxes, barrels and bags, stuffed with sand and dirt, to form crude bunkers and walls, a long line of wires twisted, sans barbs, and the shallow cuts of ditches that criss-cross back through the tents and rocks. All woefully inadequate, of course.
Another long line of fire rips through the valley, snatching up tents and bunkers as it goes, sucking them into its inferno, eviscerating them in a moment, warping the air with its incredible heat and sending great billows of black smoke into the star-lit sky.
Ba de ya, say do you remember?
Ba de ya, dancing in September!
It’s that madman, Colonel Koller, that’s blasting out Earth, Wind and Fire from the gunship, swooping through the night air, dangerously low to the AO. That beast, the Copperhead LAC-2, could easily be perched several thousand metres in the air, invisible to all but a powerful zoom lens or a very advanced bit of radar kit, reigning down death with equal efficiency, albeit a lot safer. But that isn’t really the kind of thing Colonel Koller considers, Lieutenant Strachan thinks.
‘Engage! Engage!’ the Colonel’s voice screams through the static of the radio.
Unfortunately for Lieutenant Strachan, what he thinks of the Colonel does nothing to change his rank, nor the fact that Koller, insane though he may be, still gets to make all the plans.
Strachan sighs. ‘Alright lads, up and at ‘em.’
My thoughts are with you,
Holding hands with your heart to see you…
He walks away from the growl of the IFV’s engine, that squats on the sand on the periphery of the valley with the others, and his medic, Dalson, follows suit. A long line of infantry, Charlie squad, is fanned out across the mouth of the valley and slowly advances towards the village, long shadows cast by the raging incendiaries.
The music cuts suddenly. Then starts again, warbled by the ever-shifting distance as Koller glides the Copperhead like a burned moth above their heads. It’s Paranoid now.
Finished with my woman,
'Cause she couldn't help me with my mind…
‘How about that, eh, Lieutenant? You like Black Sabbath?’
Lieutenant Strachan, busy looking for people who might shoot him, up on the cliff faces or down here, between the ditches and flaming tents, gives his usual, unthinking response, ‘Very good, Colonel Koller.’
‘Capital! Smoke them out boys. Annihilate these damn savages!’
Once they’re past the initial wreckage of the camp and its shoddy defences, it becomes increasingly obvious there is no one to annihilate. As his men continue to advance, searching the tents further into the valley, he ducks into a prefab that looks vaguely important. If anything valuable was stored here, it’s long been packed up and moved on. Much like the rest of the rebels, Strachan assumes.
He pinches his nose and sighs. They could have moved on this camp two weeks ago, but they had to wait for Colonel Koller’s new incendiary missiles to arrive for installation onto the Copperhead. Charlotte, he calls it. Oh well, isn’t much they can do now. He steps outside.
‘Nothing?’ asks Dalson.
‘Nothing,’ says Strachan.
The radio squeaks and Colonel Koller roars; ‘Lieutenant, I think I see some of the bastards up in those cliffs!’
Strachan frowns and pings his IFV gunner, so he can see through the eyes of the turret's thermal lenses. It scans across the far end of the valley, where most of the buildings are crowded around rocks. All of it dark. No heat signatures.
‘Nothing?’ asks Dalson.
‘Nothing,’ says Strachan, again. ‘But we better let him do it.’
‘Yes! I see them! Target acquired!’
Strachan gestures for the men to peel back. Most, hearing the radio chatter, are already running of their own accord.
‘Hellfire!’ screams Koller, as two bright sparks lance through the air. The prefabs, the cliff and any of Koller’s phantom enemies, are engulfed in an almighty ball of fire that spits out a shockwave strong enough to disrupt the clouds above.
Didn’t even wait for the all clear, thinks Strachan. Though at this point, I shouldn’t be surprised.
Scattered chunks of rock and dirt begin to fall across the valley, mimicking the sound of heavy rain on the sand.
‘Why does an Army commander have access to a Navy aircraft, anyway?’ asks Dalson, looking at the flaming wreckage beyond with a mix of awe and fear.
Strachen looks up at the underbelly of the Copperhead, as it arcs through the night sky. ‘I’ve no idea, Corporal. But feel free to try and take it off him.’
Colonel Koller’s laughter fills the airwaves.
Paddy Dobson
29th September 2020