Chapter 1

A Rocketeer’s Tale...

Thunder...the only element of nature that could possibly cause a Rocketeer nightmares. Unfortunately for some airborne infantry divisions of the Allied army, they had to live with it. Luckily for Colonel Terry Masterson, he wasn’t in one of such divisions.

Typical English weather. Thought Terry to himself as lightning arched across the damp, English winter night. Coventry had been affected by torrential rain for a week now, and the rivers had long since burst their banks.
The 29 year old had always been afraid of thunderstorms, but ever since he enlisted to join the local, “Rocketeer” division, he had learned that the flashes and loud noises were the tip of the iceberg as far as what the storm was truly capable of.

Turning over in his hammock for the eighth time in the last five minutes, he realised he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. His best friend in the army, a Scouser from Liverpool called Bob O’ Leary was also having trouble sleeping too.

“You asleep man?” asked Bob in his thick Liverpool accent.
“Not now, why?” replied Terry as he realized he now has no chance in hell of getting to sleep. It’s not that he doesn’t like Bob, its just that once he starts talking, there’s no stopping him.
“Nah, me neither mate. Weather woke me up. So what do you know ‘bout tomorrow’s mission?” asked Bob.
“You know I can’t tell you that, Bob.”
Truthfully, Terry hadn’t been told what their mission was going to be. “Try and get back to sleep Bob.” Finished Terry as he turned to face the opposite end of the barracks.
“Right, Boss.” Yawned Bob as he pulled his rough quilt up to his stubby unshaven chin.

The next morning was an improvement on the night before. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and Terry was enjoying his morning cup of tea. Terry was woken at six by his commanding officer to inform him of his mission.
The Allied base at Coventry had received an SOS message from the United States, they urgently needed a skilled Rocketeer squadron, fast. The coast of San Francisco was under attack from Soviet forces. All nearby Rocketeer squadrons had been destroyed during the early days of the invasion. It seemed strange to Colonel Masterson that the closest Rocketeer squadron was in England, but it seems that what the Americans lack in numbers they can make up for in skill and expertise.

Bravo Two Zero was to escort a group of Transport helicopters to San Francisco from Coventry airport. The infantry reinforcements were paramount to the protection of the United States whilst their army temporarily had their pants down.

“Bob, we move out in ten minutes, get your stuff ready” shouted Terry as he started up his rocket pack and slowly rose into the air.

A salute from Bob on the ground acknowledged Terry’s order.
Half an hour later, Bravo Two Zero and the Transport Helicopters were headed across the mighty Atlantic Ocean towards their American allies in distress. Who would have thought that the Soviets would go this far. They sure have picked on the wrong superpower. Thought Terry to himself as the sun glittered across the sea below.

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