29 MCN: The Righteous Call of Thunder

Five minutes before the USS Firestorm was set to standby, Thomas and Company were clearing bunker after bunker, they had made it halfway across the ridge. They disabled another two sets of artillery guns, though, through a mishap, Thomas lost one of radioman when he got caught in a trap set on one of the artillery guns much like the deceased Corporal Shelland. Thomas could hear the boom of the other artillery guns left, he knew they needed to quickly take the rest of the ridge, it was vital to the assault.

The only problem was, they were now at a cross section between three German bunkers and two MG nests, they couldn't just waltz out there, they would be shredded instantly. Thomas had no choice, he needed to call the thunder. He needed the USS Firestorm, if it could take out at least two bunkers out of the three, they would be in the clear to storm the last bunker.

Thomas called for the radioman, who came to the front and handed him off to command. Usually, there would be a spotter or someone versed in calling out coordinates, but Thomas didn't need one. He had a lifetime of experience calling in salvos, whether that was ground-based artillery, air strikes, or naval strikes, he had done them all.

"This is Master Sargeant Thomas! We are pinned down by German MG fire from three different bunkers, calling for immediate fire support!" Thomas had to yell into the radio over the sounds of machine gun fire and cannons booming, there were a lot of screams and moans as well. The dead and the dying were numerous, they had last about five percent of the entire company trying to assault these trenches.

"Roger that, request approved, say firing coordinates, again say firing coordinates and lay down the red," Command's message was brief and terse but got to the point.

"Firing coordinates Echo Zulu One One Niner Five One Five, the target is marked by red smoke, I repeat, the target is marked by red smoke!" Thomas replied and quickly tossed two red smoke canisters as hard as he could at the two bunkers he wanted to be destroyed. They were a little off the mark, but that was good enough. He didn't need to put an exact out, the navy ships could figure out the rest.

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Back on the USS District of Columbia, Captain Alex Hawkens got the long-awaited call, a fire support request came through from the high priority channels on the comm. The target was marked by red smoke and with the high amplification scopes on the ship, they could clearly see the smoke. A call was put out, all hands were to battle stations, they were on alert and preparing to fire a salvo. The USS Firestorm was part of a Flotilla assigned to fire support for the Italian Campaign. It was one massive group labeled Western Task Force Eighty or TF Eighty for short. There were quite a few destroyers and a couple of aircraft carriers, it was the initial fleet that was assigned to the amphibious landings of Italy.

"Firing coordinates Echo Zulu One One Niner Five One Five, the target is marked by red smoke, I repeat, the target is marked by red smoke!" That was Master Sargeant Thomas Conlin's voice that came through the radio, both on the bridge and in the gunnery rooms below decks. His call for artillery was given the highest priority as a successful push on the ridge meant that they could turn this operation around, it was faring badly and this was their second attempt. Captain Hawkens had heard that the French Third Regulars had managed to link up with Conlin's Company on the ridge once they'd taken the forward bunkers and guns, thereby opening a flank for the French to ascend and pour into. There was too much at stake this time.

"Give me a firing solution, let's hit'em with the twenties, Gunnery Officer." Captain Hawkens commanded. "Captain to Gunnery, you are cleared to load, I repeat, you are cleared to load, standby for firing solution!"

Down below decks, there was klaxon siren sounding in the loading bays, crewmen scrambled to and fro, giant shells could be seen being loaded onto carts and wheeled towards a giant metal canister. They were loading shells into the new Mark Is, it wasn't a do or die scenario, but for them, every second counted because each second someone out there was dying without their support. Such thinking bolstered the resolve and determination of these crewmen. They finished their work in under two minutes, all that was left was to calibrate the firing angle, then hit the firing sequence, the cannon's mechanisms would do the rest.

Back on the bridge, Captain Hawkens looked at the firing solution for the artillery, it seemed to be slightly off from the red smoke, but that didn't matter much. It was only off by a few feet, that was the best they could do. Besides he had to wait for the rest of the fleet to synchronize their firing solutions as well, everyone would begin firing when he did. It was a marvelous feeling, being the lead in such an important request, he felt important himself. He relayed the firing solution to the Gunnery decks below.

On deck, the massive twenty-inch cannons slowly swiveled and angled upward. The firing solution and angle adjustment had been set, all that awaited was the Captain's command. Likewise in the rest of the Task Force, the main guns on each deck swiveled at their respective angles and adjusted, they too awaited the final order.

"Fire." One simple word, once given, meant devastating results. With the loudest roar you could have ever heard for miles, it was like thunder on steroids, even the men at Monte Cassino miles off heard the dull roar of the cannons. The Germans became very afraid, they had no idea what was targeted, they all took shelter amidst a bunch of shouts and yells.

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Thomas heard the cannons in the distance, he instantly dropped to his belly, but he kept his eyes straight ahead on the bunkers, he was really hoping for them to be directly hit. Everyone around him saw him hit the deck and copied him, he hadn't led them astray so far, why would he now? There were a few who stood standing, they immediately regretted their mistake when the first shell hit.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! THUNK! CRASH! BOOM! RUMBLE!

The naval barrage crashed upon them like the sea against a cliff, thunderous roars and waves of concussion were felt and heard by everyone. There was a loud thunderous roar, as if the God of Thunder, Thor himself, descended from Asgard to wreak havoc upon the land. Then after the roar was a giant explosion that ripped apart the land, there was so much shaking that a part of the ridge collapsed and tumbled down below, causing it to look like someone chewed a chunk out of it. A fifty-foot geyser of dirt erupted into the air at the same time, covering the sky in a brown haze that instantly turned the overcast sky into one of temporary darkness.

More shells rained down after the first, a total of thirty shells, twelve direct hits, eleven near hits, and three near misses. More dirt rained into the sky along with chunks of concrete that had been blasted into bits, all of that mixed with the rain that was already falling since Thomas had left the first bunker, it was a sight to behold. The trenches were already muddy enough, now the ground was cracked and there were giant mudholes which could easily injure or kill the unwary serviceman.

After a few minutes, Thomas was able to stand, the shaking had subsided and it was time to check out the damage. He moved forward into what was the kill zone and immediately ran into a dazed German who couldn't see, he was blinded. The German's eyes had been torn from his head when some object tore across his face, it wasn't a lethal injury, but it was enough to put him out of commission, technically he should be in a ton of pain, but he was too shellshocked to feel anything. Thomas just brushed past him and moved on to where the bunkers should be. Thomas couldn't believe what he saw.