Planet Genocide I (Galaxies Collide Book 3) by Andrew McGregor Page B
Authors: Andrew McGregor
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stared back over the town, adjusting the zoom, considering the alarm was nothing, perhaps a manhunt in the local area as he jumped slightly, a police car sweeping past on the road next to the car park, its siren wailing.
Mitch’s voice was nearer, the American walking slowly back towards him, a bottle of beer in either hand, ‘Herr Hausser…I have brought you a Budweiser…’ He grinned, ‘We have ‘circled the wagons’…come have a hotdog.’ The man stepped carefully in the darkness, hearing the dogs beginning to bark behind and tutting, ‘Have we seen anything yet?’
Kurt turned slightly to look at the silhouette approaching, ‘Nothing…it must be a manhunt or local alert…most people have gone back into the cafes now.’
Mitch swigged from one of the bottles as the German raised the binoculars again, his voice almost a forced whisper, ‘Just one more look my friend, then we have a beer…sorry, I think I am too jumpy…’
The American shook his head, ‘No problem my friend…we all need to be careful these days…’ He drew near the German, extending the Budweiser towards him, ‘Here have a drink and we can discuss the units that were in Normandy…I understand your grandfather was here…’
Mitch strained his eyes as he saw the German twist the zoom once more, moving the glasses over towards the beach, Kurt speaking sideways to him, ‘My grandfather was originally in the 76 th Infantry Division, apparently stationed away from the coast, but on D-Day he brought supplies up just before the invasion…I do not know if it was here or further…’ He adjusted the zoom on the binoculars once more, staring out over the dark water as waves crashed innocently against the beach.
The American nodded thoughtfully, ‘Interesting…my grandfather was in 101 st Airborne during the war. Did yours fight anywhere else?’
Kurt glanced round briefly, then raised the glasses back to his eyes, ‘He was on the Russian Front and at Stalingrad…’ His voice tailed off as he stared through the binoculars once more, his body tensing and stepping forward.
Mitch’s eyes widened in surprise, impressed by the mention of Stalingrad. The German strained his eyes, seeing the dogs in the distance against the light sand barking furiously, the lone figure seeming to stare briefly towards the water, then turn to run. He drew breath, the American leaning forward and staring out in response as Kurt watched the figure scramble with urgency up the beach, the dogs barking and circling around the man, seeming to urge their master on.
Holding his breath, Kurt moved the glasses slowly back to the right, his eyes straining in the fading light. Mitch cursed the barking dogs from the car park, their owners muffled swearing and scolding going unheeded as the animals seemed to bark even louder and more furiously.
Then the German drew breath sharply, his hands furiously twisting the zoom as he stared out onto the light beach. A lone black figure ran up onto the sand, the silhouette seeming tall and inhuman as it dropped to a crouch, the body bulked with armour as Kurt stared open mouthed. Then more and more figures ran from the waves, their assault rifles and weapons drawn from their backs as they approached their commander, his arm rising and pointing towards the town.
Kurt gasped as hundreds of tall black armoured figures now struggled from the breaking surf, Mitch leaning forward with curiosity as the German whispered solemnly with dread, ‘Mein Gott…das ist de Ende!’
Morgon regular troops in their black armour advanced forward towards Arromanches-les-Bains, some onto the main east-west road, the rest along the beachfront. Kurt staring in morbid fascination as the figures approached the village, the helicopter changing direction suddenly, sweeping forward as the pilot glimpsed the shadows against the sand.
The flames ignited and swept upwards as the chopper banked sharply, two missiles closing on their target as the pilot
Mitch’s voice was nearer, the American walking slowly back towards him, a bottle of beer in either hand, ‘Herr Hausser…I have brought you a Budweiser…’ He grinned, ‘We have ‘circled the wagons’…come have a hotdog.’ The man stepped carefully in the darkness, hearing the dogs beginning to bark behind and tutting, ‘Have we seen anything yet?’
Kurt turned slightly to look at the silhouette approaching, ‘Nothing…it must be a manhunt or local alert…most people have gone back into the cafes now.’
Mitch swigged from one of the bottles as the German raised the binoculars again, his voice almost a forced whisper, ‘Just one more look my friend, then we have a beer…sorry, I think I am too jumpy…’
The American shook his head, ‘No problem my friend…we all need to be careful these days…’ He drew near the German, extending the Budweiser towards him, ‘Here have a drink and we can discuss the units that were in Normandy…I understand your grandfather was here…’
Mitch strained his eyes as he saw the German twist the zoom once more, moving the glasses over towards the beach, Kurt speaking sideways to him, ‘My grandfather was originally in the 76 th Infantry Division, apparently stationed away from the coast, but on D-Day he brought supplies up just before the invasion…I do not know if it was here or further…’ He adjusted the zoom on the binoculars once more, staring out over the dark water as waves crashed innocently against the beach.
The American nodded thoughtfully, ‘Interesting…my grandfather was in 101 st Airborne during the war. Did yours fight anywhere else?’
Kurt glanced round briefly, then raised the glasses back to his eyes, ‘He was on the Russian Front and at Stalingrad…’ His voice tailed off as he stared through the binoculars once more, his body tensing and stepping forward.
Mitch’s eyes widened in surprise, impressed by the mention of Stalingrad. The German strained his eyes, seeing the dogs in the distance against the light sand barking furiously, the lone figure seeming to stare briefly towards the water, then turn to run. He drew breath, the American leaning forward and staring out in response as Kurt watched the figure scramble with urgency up the beach, the dogs barking and circling around the man, seeming to urge their master on.
Holding his breath, Kurt moved the glasses slowly back to the right, his eyes straining in the fading light. Mitch cursed the barking dogs from the car park, their owners muffled swearing and scolding going unheeded as the animals seemed to bark even louder and more furiously.
Then the German drew breath sharply, his hands furiously twisting the zoom as he stared out onto the light beach. A lone black figure ran up onto the sand, the silhouette seeming tall and inhuman as it dropped to a crouch, the body bulked with armour as Kurt stared open mouthed. Then more and more figures ran from the waves, their assault rifles and weapons drawn from their backs as they approached their commander, his arm rising and pointing towards the town.
Kurt gasped as hundreds of tall black armoured figures now struggled from the breaking surf, Mitch leaning forward with curiosity as the German whispered solemnly with dread, ‘Mein Gott…das ist de Ende!’
Morgon regular troops in their black armour advanced forward towards Arromanches-les-Bains, some onto the main east-west road, the rest along the beachfront. Kurt staring in morbid fascination as the figures approached the village, the helicopter changing direction suddenly, sweeping forward as the pilot glimpsed the shadows against the sand.
The flames ignited and swept upwards as the chopper banked sharply, two missiles closing on their target as the pilot
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