RM Vol 3: For a World without Boundary – Chapter 41-2: Flight of the Pr Bears (Part 2)


    "This is Group 1 leader to all 509th elements. We''re five minutes out. Conductsbat status check."


    "This is Group 2 leader. Group 2 is green across the board."


    "Group 3 here, no issue on our end."


    "Group 4 reports no problem with our package."


    "This is Group 1 leader. Group 1 is at full readiness. Confirming A-OK across all elements. Alright, boys and girls, get ready for some Shock and Awe. Group 1, opens the bomb bay doors."


    Though barely illuminated by the moon 14000 meters in the air, the crew of the En May still tries toy their eyes on the visages of Group 1''s bombers that are flying to their left. Currently, the En is flying parallel to Group 1 while Group 2 and 3 are hanging back till 1 have made their bomb run. On her part, the En will be flying solo to destroy the hidden naval base. But only until they have watched the bombs obliterate Taranto, they''re allowed that much leeway as the entire Wing would like to watch the recording of their handiworks.


    So, before Group 1 drops off their ordnance, the En is swinging about for a holding pattern above Taranto. Staying at cruising speed, the flight chief instructs one of her two officers. "Alright, you know what to do."


    The defensive system officer gives a thumbs up, already operating his terminal and deploying a ventral turret of the En. Pointing it at maximum zoom, thus sharing with them a view of nighttime Taranto on their MFDs, the defensive officer starts the recorder at this moment. By the time everything is set up, the Group 1 leader has made an announcement.


    "This is Group 1 leader, arriving at the drop point. Deploying in ordinance in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1. Bombs away!"


    With that order, eight hundred and eighty 500 kilograms of bombs start dropping in quick session from the eleven Pr Bears in Group 1. By flying in an arrowhead formation, Group 1 ensures that the bombs wille rolling down like the red carpet of a party venue.


    Through the view of her multi-function disy, the flight chief spectates the moments before the bombsnd, hearing the Group 1 leader announcing. "Ssh." Five secondster, the explosive carpet starts enveloping the unsuspecting Taranto.


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    Mario loves his job.


    In the tumultuous period that Sardegna is experiencing, your bog-standard civies have it hard just trying to procure daily necessities. Yet, Mario is lucky to be a military chef thanks to a fortuitous encounter with a few good officers. From running a minor restaurant, Mario is now working as a full-time head chef for the Taranto naval base''s officers'' cantina. This allows Mario easy ess to the well-stocked supplies of the base, giving him the chance to make sure his baby girl is well-fed. Being a single father is hard and praise be the Lord for making his duty a tad easier.


    His little angel is well-known across the naval base, so it isn''t a surprise for him when a couple of familiar soldiers push open the door to the cantina, right before its opening hour.


    "Yo, I am here to deposit one little imp." Said a gruff male voice, his rank denoting the status of Sergeant.


    The sentence is soon followed by an excited squeal as a little girl rushes to embrace the outstretched arms of her father. "Papa! Good morning!"


    Mario hugs his daughter tightly before giving her a spin, much to her glee. "Morning to you too, sunshine. With you here, I will have enough strength to tide through another long day."


    "Un~!" The girl nodded before saying. "Papa, papa~! Can I join you in the kitchen today?"


    "Sure, my little sous chef. Go and get into your apron while I get the orders from our friends here, ye?"


    "Ok, papa!"


    Mario puts down his daughter, letting the young girl run into the kitchen before turning to address the Sergeant and his plus one. "So, any preference today, gentlemen?"


    The Sergeant nods at Mario before saying with a yawn. "Just give us the usual. And maybe whatever sandwiches you have today for takeaway."


    "I got ham, cheese, and smi today." Mario announced, earning a big smile from the Sergeant.


    "Well, lucky me then."


    "Alright, me and my girl will whip up your order in no time." Mario said while hanging a towel over his left shoulder.


    Right before Marios can turn back and head inside the kitchen, however, they all hear whistling sounds echoing in from outside and above the cantina.


    "Is that from the church?" Mario asked with nothing but a raise of an eyebrow.


    "No..." The Sergeant, though, knows what''sing down almost immediately. "No! Get down!"


    The Sergeant barely has time to shout and duck down under a table, thanks to his naval training, when the first bombsnd. An unknown amount of bombs explode all around the cantina, blowing up streets, cars, houses, and people alike. One bomb, in particrnds extremely near the cantina''s front, blowing up and demolishing the entirety of it. The damage causes wood splinters and hazardous fragments to bombard the internal of the cantina while the shockwave knocks over the Sergeant and the table he is hiding under.


    Once the Sergeant hase to, his ears are ringing like he just put them against the barrel of a 203mm naval cannon while his vision is swimming about like the worst case of a hangover in his life. He is dazed like that for an unknown amount of time before he regains enough of his bodily function to pat his hands all over his body. Near instantly, he noticed that he received a bad gash on his left calf and many cuts and bruises. Thankfully, his arms are functional albeit a bit banged up. It doesn''t seem like his head is bleeding anywhere, only a concussion or something along that line. The Sergeant is just about to thank the Lord when he remembers that he is, in fact, not alone in the cantina.


    "st it! Corporal, are ok? Corporal!" The Sergeant looked around the ruined cantina, searching for his plus one in his shift, only to stop and stare at an arm that was wearing the patch of Corporal status. The rest of his body is, unfortunately, squashed beneath the debris of a copsed roof. A pool of blood can be seen mixing with other building materials from beneath the partially buried body. "Damn it..."


    The Sergeant can only bite back another curse when he reaches for broken furniture to stand up shakily, only to see the copsed form of Mario with arge wooden object stabbing right where his heart is. The good chef died, leaning over a damaged wall while his hand was grasping the foreign object, probably a leg from a destroyed chair, while his lower half was punctured by fragments.


    Seeing the sigh of his friend dying an undeserving death like that, the Sergeantes to a panicky realization that prompts him to scream out. "Chiara... Chiara!"


    Adrenaline fills his body as he makes his way through Mario''s corpse and rubbles, heading for the kitchen where the little girl from earlier had run off. Pushing open a kitchen door that has one of its hinges blown wide open, the Sergeantes to see the unmoving form of Chiara, Mario''s daughter, lying on the dirtied floor. Her hand still clutching a broken coffee pot. The sight causes the Sergeant to have his heart bleeding out in pain as the man nearly crashes down by Chiara, removing the destroyed coffee pot from her hand while bringing her up to his chest.


    "No, no, no, no! Not like this, girlie. Not like this!" The Sergeant refused to believe that she had passed on like her father, not when the kitchen seemed to be in a much better state than the dining area.


    Praying to the Lord above, the Sergeant checks for the girl''s pulse. The battered and frantic man almost jumps for joy when he can feel a faint pulse. Laying a finger by her nose, the Sergeant breathes out in relief when he can feel weak breaths from Chiara. She is still breathing under her own strength, she may just be knocked out, nothing more.


    Now that he has confirmed that Mario''s little imp is somewhat fine, the Sergeant has to relocate her somewhere. Somewhere he knows that it''s safe. The explosions earlier that took the life of her father and probably many more have been attacked. A major attack and a p in the face for Sardegna for its Taranto that had been bombed. But he can worry about the consequences of thatter, right now, he must move.


    Holding up Chiara in a princess carry, the Sergeant moves out from the cantina. He takes in a sharp breath when heys his eyes on the total devastation of the entire block around the ruined cantina. Not one building escaped unscathed. In fact, the cantina is lucky that it wasn''t outright destroyed. Fearing that this is the prelude to something else, something much worse, the Sergeant limply walks at his best speed to the nearby bomb shelter. It''s one that is reserved only for officers like him but he will be damn if he leaves little Chiara somewhere else.


    The Sergeant ignores the many cries for help from injured soldiers and even his fellow officers. He ignores the sight of emergency responders running amok. He ignores the sight of rag-dolled bodies and decimated corpses. He only needs to walk.


    And that decision may have just saved his life and Chiara''s.


    Please ce a heavy emphasis on the word, ''may''.


    By the time the Sergeant has reached the bomb shelter that he knows it''s well-stocked and well-maintained, the Sardegnian garrison in Taranto has barely managed to eke out some sort of response against the surprise attack. That being ragtag bands of survivors going from one ce or another to lend out their aid. Uncaring about any possible prying eyes, the Sergeantys the unconscious Chiara down by a bench before going to push the shelter''s bulkhead door wide open. It''s dark inside, but with the Sergeant himself being in charge of keeping the facilities in this sector in good condition, he knows there''s a generator in there that he can draw power from.


    Once again picking up Chiara, the Sergeant carries her inside the shelter. He is just about to find somece that isfortable enough to ce Chiara down when he hears that dreaded sound again. The sounds of imminent death from above.


    Hastily cing Chiara while breathing out a panicked ''Sorry!'', the Sergeant runs to the bulkhead door. Ignoring the people outside, ignoring the lives that are about to be reaped by an unknown Grim Reaper, the Sergeant uses his entire body weight to push the door, closing it and casting the internal of the bunker under a veil of darkness.


    Thest thing he sees is somethingnd on the ground outside, detonating and enveloping the soldiers that are dashing madly with fright towards the very ce he is sealing.


    May God above have mercy on their souls and mine for I have sinned.


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    "Beautiful." The flight chiefmented as she watched the fiery carpet of incendiary bombs being rolled out on Taranto. Eleven lines of bombs, eleven lines of me, culminating together in thergest firebombing in history to date. By morning, there won''t be anything left of Taranto to be saved.


    "I would say I pity the poor bastards down there if it weren''t for the war crimes their governmentmitted." The flight engineermented, earning nods from all of the crew.


    "And it would seem the naval air wings are pitting in." The offensive officer added, seeing more smaller explosions dotting the docked vessels in the harbor area. He whistles when he sees a big ship being blown up. "Look at them Navy go, I think that''s the gship of the Alexander fleet being hit right in the magazine. I think it was a JDAM that did her in."


    "It was the Vittorio Vo, right?" The defensive officer asked, to which the offensive one replied. "Yup, they have a few battleships here. Antiques by our standard but still pretty powerful for other navies in the world. With them going down under though, Sardegna can kiss goodbye the Seven Seas."


    "Her," The flight chief interjects. "I think a few vessels are making a break for it."


    The offensive system officer barks out augh. "They can certainly try! Group 3 alreadyid the CAPTOR mines. They won''t even know what hit them!"