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NOTE: This is only the first half of this chapter, but I figured this is what you all wanted so you get it early. Look for errors, leave their locations in the comments and please...try to be as specific as possible as to their location so I don't spend twenty minutes pouring over this thing looking for a misplaced apostrophe. Enjoy! Grand Junction 7:40

"IIINNNNCOMING!" HEAT rounds detonated all around the battalion of paratroopers from the 101st Airborne as the PRA tanks made a last desperate rush. Instead of advancing in waves they had formed up into one massive block of tanks and IFVs, hoping to simply overwhelm the American forces that stood before them. The result was an utter bloodbath for both sides that resembled nothing short of a woodchipper being fed livestock. Type 07s and ZBD-97s unloaded hundreds of infantry in the field, hoping to add their guns to the fight, and because it seemed every second another American rocket or shell would strike and knockout a PRA vehicle. However, with no cover in the fields other than burning vehicles that periodically threw off an explosion as their ammo stores cooked off, the PRA infantry were nothing more than cannon fodder.  From the American lines a pair of automatic riflemen armed with M-240Bs light machineguns feverishly poured out hundreds of 7.62 NATO rounds, fangs gritted as they ignored the bullets kicking up dirt and snow inches from their muzzles. American rifles used red tracers, while the Chinese made rounds in the PRA rifles used green ones, creating a Christmas themed light show of death and angst as the two sides traded blows. Soldiers shrugged off burns as hot brass casings from their neighbor's rifle bounced off their faces, knowing full well that this battle depended on firing as many rounds as possible. Lieutenant Sheppard and Eva worked as best they could, dodging fire and kicking out boxes of ammo as cries for more rounds echoed from around the trenches and  shallow foxholes that had been hastily prepared in the minutes before the fighting began. Periodically Sheppard would raise his own rifle and take a few shots when he saw the enemy was getting close. The battlefield was mostly flat no-man's land, but there was the occasional husk of a bombed out building that stood along what had been the western side of the city, but was now nothing more than rubble. PRA infantry hustled as best they could to reach these structures, as they were the only available cover that wasn't constantly moving or getting blown up. From inside his tank, Young continued barking orders to his crew. "GUNNER! CONTACT TROOPS FRONT! FIRE AND ADJUST!" "FIRING!" With that, the gunner spooled up the turret mounted M134 minigun and cut loose with a stream of bullets with a sound that split the eardrums of those around "Iron Man." Firing at over 3000 rounds per minute, the M134 didn't sound like a traditional machinegun, instead giving off a horrendous BRRRRRZZZZZZTT! The PRA troops that stood four hundred yards away were cut to ribbons, their bodies struck so many times that none were left with all their limbs attached. Another squad entered seconds later to find their comrades had been reduced to bloody pudding by the armored demon spitting fire before them. "Iron Man this is Wicked World, we just took a hit! Our left gun is out and we've got a hull breach on the turret," came a frantic cry over the radio. "Roger that Wicked, get to cover and see if you can use your remaining gun to pick targets off from a distance," Young replied. "War Pig, how's the engine doing?" "Still cold sir, we're still in manual mode here." "Roger that, keep up the fire while you can." Meanwhile, to the west Captain Wilson was bringing the eight Kodiaks around for another strike. They'd needed to reload their TOW launchers, and were now each down to their last pair of rockets each. The damage they'd done was incredible though. Fourteen vehicles total, with eight tanks and six IFVs to their name, they'd certainly done their part to slow the PRA's advance. Now they were coming back for another pass as the PRA armor pressed the attack. "Company halt! All units pick a target and fire TOWs!" Wilson ordered. Seconds later the Kodiaks loosed a volley of rockets in unison, leaving bright white smoke contrails floating overhead as the rockets screamed forth and into the turrets of five Type 96s and three ZBD-97s. Wilson smiled in satisfaction as his men picked a new set of targets for their final barrage of rockets. Suddenly an explosion rocked ground and briefly lifted him from his seat. To his left he watched in horror as one of his Kodiaks burned. Seconds later another was blown apart as well. "What the fuck!?! ENEMY HELICOPTERS! OH SHIT!" screamed Blackmon as he looked out the window to see a flight of eight Z-10 attack helicopters swooping in. The Z-10 was a light vehicle's worst nightmare, as the rocket pods and 30mm cannons they carried could tear a Kodiak apart in only one or two hits. "PUNCH IT! GET US OUT OF HERE!" Wilson cried as the gunners trained their M2s on the helicopters and desperately opened fire. The .50 caliber bullets were useless however, as the Z-10s armor plating made it utterly invisible against any round under 20mm in diameter. Another Kodiak burst apart as a series of 30mm shells tore through its lightly armored frame. The remaining Kodiaks sped away at ninety miles per hour, their 400 horsepower turbo charged engines roaring to life as they tried to flee the hoard of black winged locusts that now chewed through their numbers with impunity. "This is Kodiak 1 requesting assistance! We're under heavy enemy helicopter fire and need immediate support! Is anyone out there?! MOTHER OF FUCK!" Wilson cried as the Kodiak in front of his took a hit and rolled onto its side. Wilson's driver was unable to dodge the flaming wreckage in front of him, and with a thunderous crash his Kodiak plowed into the now flaming wreckage of Kodiak 2. Everyone was thrown about the cabin, Tony breaking his nose in the process as his face struck the side door. Wearily Blackmon and Jack stood up and kicked open the right side door. Jack grabbed Wilson's collar and dragged him out of the now wrecked Kodiak. The driver and gunner were both dead, the impact breaking their necks like toothpicks. Jon was the last to leave, grabbing his helmet and rifle he crawled out to meet the others. "Holy crap that hurt..." he groaned as he stumbled onto the snow covered ground. Overhead a Z-10 noticed the flaming wreckage of the two Kodiaks still had troops moving about. Swinging the 30mm cannon to bear on them, he fired a ten round burst into the center of the now derelict Kodiaks. Before Jon could so much as blink he felt the Kodiak behind him erupt into a fireball as his body was launched into the air...and then nothing as his flesh vaporized in a cloud of burning diesel fuel. The others had cleared the wreckage in time to avoid the main blast, but were still knocked down as their Kodiak's fuel tanks burst and engulfed the vehicle in flames.   "Oh god Jon!" Blackmon cried in angst as his squadmate died before him. "YOU BASTARDS! I'll kill all of you!" "Kyle we gotta get out of here!" Tony yelled as he and Wilson followed Jack in retreat. Jack stopped as he passed Kodiak 2, as he noticed the truck was still partly intact. Peering against the right side window, he realized that there were still live soldiers inside. Tearing the door open he found a bloodied a Morris and Strauss sitting in their seats, their minds still in disarray from nearly being blown up. Without hesitation Jack yanked them both out and dragged them to a nearby pile of rubble. "Morris, you okay?" he asked. The fennec fox shook his head and blinked. "Morris!" The fox turned, gripping his ears for a moment. "I can't hear a damn thing, my ears are screaming like a banshee." Strauss wasn't much better, as shrapnel had given his face several nasty cuts and even sliced a part of his left ear clean off his head. Had he been issued a helmet he might not have suffered that injury. "Where's Michael and Chris?" Jack asked. "Both dead," Strauss sorrowfully answered. "Chris was sitting where we took the first hit, there's nothing left of him. Michael was on the left side and broke his neck when we rolled out." Jack just gritted his teeth and spat angrily. "Nothing we can do now. C'mon, let's get to cover before we get overrun." Together they took off running for friendly lines, their movements running parallel to the very enemies they were seeking hold back. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice the small squad of soldiers as the battle raged on. Back at Young's position, the flight of enemy helicopters made a pass overhead, their rocket barrages managing to finish off "Wicked World," leaving the once proud death dealer a flaming hulk. "War Pig" was still a sitting duck, and after a pair of shells struck home on the turret the crew was forced to abandon the tank as fire broke out underneath due to a cracked fuel line. "Gunner! Enemy helicopters. Arm Stingers!"  Young ordered. "On it! Enemy helicopters sighted, lock achieved!" "FIRE!" SWOOOOSH! SWOOOSH! SWOOOSH! A trio of stingers flew off rails of "Iron Man's" launcher, each missile targeting a separate Z-10. The pilots had not expected enemy ground troops to be carrying Stingers and failed to pop flares in time to divert the missiles. The early morning sky filled with white light as phosphorus rockets popped off to the sides, their heat failing to draw the Stingers away in time as they struck home and each claimed a Z-10. The helicopters poured black smoke from their engines as they fell like broken birds, crashing roughly on the cold earth below. From the right flank of the line rose a pair of white missile contrails as a 101st missile team launched a pair of Javelin rockets at the Z-10s as well. These were quite close and also claimed a kill each. "Paranoid" followed suit and rapidly fired off a few Stingers of its own, managing to sneak one past the remaining Z-10s defenses and shoot down a sixth helicopter as the remaining two beat a hasty retreat. They didn't get far though, as an F-15 circling overhead had heard Captain Wilson's earlier cries for help and had dived down to provide support. Although it was armed for a close air support mission, it still held a pair of AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles, and in seconds both were locked on target. SWOOSH! SWOOSH! The last two Z-10s splashed above a group of PRA infantry fresh from disembarking their IFV. "Shit! Captain they just took out some of our helicopters!" cried Lieutenant Curtis. "They've yet to take us out Lieutenant, MOVE UP! FOLLOW ME MEN! LET'S GO!" Captain Reas shouted as he led the charge against the American lines. All around him men were dying, mainly because they froze and tried to tank cover in an exposed location. Angrily he yelled at the men he passed to advance and keep the enemy lines suppressed. The Americans had lost two of their tanks, and the other two had moved to the right flank to supplement the heavy losses that side had suffered. Making his way through the rubble and snow, Reas led his platoon forward towards the American left flank, which lacked the firepower of the M7A1s. Soon they were within four hundred meters of the enemy, just close enough to engage with their rifles. "Sergeant deploy that MG and give us some covering fire!" he ordered to the ocelot next to him. The man did so, setting his Chinese made QBB-95 on the ground and began cutting loose. Most of Reas' platoon had American made weapons, but a few replacement soldiers were still armed with Chinese donated equipment that was...less than adequate for the task at hand. Nevertheless Reas and his men soldiered on, knowing that the price of failure and retreat was worse than death. "Dragon 4-4, we need some armor support," Reas called over his radio, "I'm popping a green flare near the enemy troops. Engage all enemies you see near it!" "Roger that Tiger 1-4, waiting for your go," the tanker called back. With that, Reas tapped the hyena next to him and ordered him to load a green flare shell into his M320 grenade launcher. The hyena did so and promptly fired it at an arc so it detonated about 100 yards short of the American lines. The Type 96 spotted it and tracked the two dozen 101st paratroopers huddled in the rubble below it. The gunner armed his coaxial machinegun and cut loose, spraying green tracer fire all across the enemy lines. Promptly he followed up by firing a HEAT round from the 125mm main gun, leaving a nice sized crater in the middle of their formation. "Nice shot Dragon 4-4! Check your fire, we're moving up!" Just then, a trio of M1A3 Abrams tanks appeared from around the corner and began engaging the PRA tanks. Reas couldn't believe it, surely the Americans couldn't have any reserves left! What he didn't know was that these three were the remnants of Bulldog 1, the tank platoon that had been in task force FOX. After hearing the panicked cries of Young's tankers over the radio, Bulldog 1 decided to not retreat, and instead went full throttle towards the front lines, arriving just in time to keep the left flank from crumbling. "Dragon 4-4, target those enemy tanks!" Reas cried. Just then an M1A3 fired, its shell sailing a mere foot over Reas' head as it struck a Type 07 behind him--the very one he'd been riding in earlier. A hail of bullets glanced off the ground near his feet, causing him to trip and fall on his stomach as a wolf next to him caught a round in the face and fell dead next to him. Dear God, I'm a dead man! PRA Mobile Headquarter West of Grand Junction, 7:45 A.M. "Sir...we've got some troubling news," reported the tigress from her station. "Colonel Pang reports he's lost fifty percent of his Type 96 tanks, and almost forty percent of his IFVs. His infantry are mostly deployed and getting ripped to shreds. He wants to know if he should press the attack, or fall back and regroup." "Sir!" another analyst called, "We just lost our air support, General Yang's Z-10s have all been shot down." "God damn it!" Voorhees swore whiling throwing his tablet computer against the ground in a fit of rage. "How do we lose eight helicopters that quickly?" "It appears the American tanks were properly armed to engage our helicopters, the volume of fire was too much for their countermeasures. We'd anticipated only infantry mounted Stinger launchers, sir." "Tell Pang to issue a retreat. Code Black," Voorhees ordered, his voice calmer now. "Code Black? Sir that indicates an imminent nuclear strike," Lieutenant Cantor stated. "Exactly." "You don't mean...sir, are we using White Lotus?" "I hereby give the order. Tell whoever's left in Crossbow 1-1 to launch immediately," Voorhees said. "But if we launch now some of our men might get caught in the blast," Cantor protested. "That's their problem. Launch it now before that fool Yang calls us again and forces me to sacrifice this entire division. We'll warn our troops when it's in the air." "That'll leave them less than three minutes." "They've done a good job advance this far this quickly Lieutenant, they shouldn't have a hard time reversing that principle to retreat," Voorhees coldly replied. Grand Junction Battleground "All units! All units! This is Command HQ, we have a code black! Repeat, there is a code black! All units are advised to retreat six miles west of their current positions and wait for impact. I say again, code black! Impact in T-minus three minutes." Reas' blood froze in its veins as his radio crackled with that grim message of doom. Turning to his left the ocelot next to him met his gaze and shakily asked, "S-sir are you getting this?" "I am. I don't know what the hell is going on, but we gotta get out of here!" he shouted while trying to get in contact with Voorhees. "Command HQ this is Tiger 1-4, we've just received word of a code black. What's going on? Are the enemy launching a tactile nuke our way?" No response. "Damn it HQ! My men are in the blast radius, if this is our weapon call it off NOW! We're as good as dead out here!" Silence. Those bastards...this isn't a U.S. nuke...it's ours! "RUN FOR IT!" Reas shouted as he and his men left their weapons behind and sprinted like mad men away from the combat area. Meanwhile, Jack and company had managed to make it within half a mile of the American lines. Blackmon had radioed Lieutenant Sheppard and requested a pickup, and since Sheppard's truck had exhausted most of its ammo stores he was happy to oblige and just now pulled up to Jack's group. "Need a lift?" Sheppard asked with a grin. "Climb in guys, it's almost time to bail and get out of here." "Thank God, I thought we were all gonna die out here," Morris said with exhausted relief. "We're not out of this yet," Jack cautioned. "We can celebrate when we're hitching a ride on a C-17." After climbing in the back the group piled into the truck and began driving back to the American lines. However, Wilson's radio was still dialed into Major Young's command network and was picking up a conversation between Young and Shadow Eye. "Uhh, Major Young I've just picked up a fast moving airborne object heading straight for your position. Speed...600 plus knots. And...oh god I think we have a code black sir! All their units are pulling back at breakneck speed." "I see 'em retreating," Young replied, "They're running for their lives alright." He took a quick deep breath and asked, "How long till it hits?" "Two minutes sir..." "Damn," he whispered as the grim reality set in. "All units we have a possible code black! Retreat to the east ASAP and don't stop till I tell you! Ulenski, turn this hulk around and get us out of here!" Ulenski hastily jerked the tank to the left in place and slammed down the accelerator as he desperately tried to escape his rapidly approaching fate. The remaining soldiers in the trench dropped their weapons and took off after the tanks, running like mad as the words "code black" echoed in their minds. Only one man, a thirty year old coyote, stayed behind in his foxhole. He knew it was pointless to run, so instead he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and drew a long pull. Tracking through the night sky, he noticed a black dot on the horizon that slowly got bigger, and bigger. He closed his eyes and took another pull. "OH SHIT!" Wilson cried from the back of the truck. "Sheppard! Head east immediately and give it all you got!" "What? Why? What's going on?" "The fucking PRA just launched a nuke at us. We got less and two minutes before it gets here!" Wilson shouted in panic. "WHAT? No way...no way that's...that's insane!" Jack said. "No time to talk, just gun it and get us out of here!" Blackmon shouted. Sheppard didn't hesitate and pushed the gas pedal as far as it would go. Unfortunately, diesel supply trucks are not built for speed and it took several seconds just to reach fifty miles per hour. Everyone in the back desperately watched out the back of the truck, waiting for the blast that would explode with the force of ten thousand tons of TNT. Jack couldn't believe this was happening, and in his heart he truly felt fear of death for the first time in the battle as an unstoppable weapon prepared to take its toll. However, as he contemplated this he also came to his senses and remembered that brief lecture in training on how to survive a nuclear attack. "Don't look out the back! The flash will blind you permanently if you look at it. Keep your eyes covered and your heads down until it's over," he instructed, trying to feign being calm when in his mind his thoughts races like a bullet train. Back in the trench, the coyote had just finished his cigarette. He'd amazed himself at how fast he'd managed to do it, but then again he was taking larger pulls than normal. Looking up again, he witnessed the missile fast approaching, almost as if it was coming right at him. Carefully he followed it as it flew directly over his head and out of sight, inhaling slowly the entire time. After a second, he exhaled and... (Cue the music) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNWBxbf26ls&feature=fvst CRACK-BOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!!!! With a 300 million candela flash the 10 kiloton warhead tipped Tomahawk missile detonated in the center of what had been the American headquarters at St. Mary's hospital. The PRA had neglected to adjust the coordinates, but it mattered not. The blast radius was a full mile and a half wide; more than wide enough to catch Major Young and his retreating forces. For a brief second Young felt his eyes burn from the flash, and instinctively he brought his arms up to shield his face as he looked out from the top of the turret. And then, for the briefest of time he felt an intense burning followed by peaceful repose as his body was vaporized into steam in less time than it takes to snap one's fingers. All that was left was his shadow, which was cooked into the tank's hull. The two hundred plus paratroopers behind him suffered a similar face as the earth around them seemed to rise into the sky and the structures around them broke apart into a million specks of dust. Ulenski had been mostly shielded from the initial blast from within the tank's armored hull, however the titanium hull heated up to about two-thousand degrees Fahrenheit in a split second. His body baked in a matter of seconds, but in that time he suffered considerably as his uniform melted across him and his plastic goggles dripped down his face while his paw flesh was seared to a crisp as he pressed them against the metal steering column. His screams were covered up as the tank's magazine detonated and blew the entire vehicle to bits. Nearby a trio of paratroopers had opted to hide in a house's basement, hoping that getting below ground would do the trick. However, the house was ripped from above their very heads as they watched in horror before the vacuum of heat sucked them into the sky as the telltale mushroom cloud formed over Grand Junction. All across the city gas mains, cars, and leftover ammunition exploded and added to the glowing fireball that rose from what had been the city's hospital. Now, in cruel irony the center for saving life was the center of mass destruction that had taken the lives of three hundred American servicemen in an instant, along with nearly a thousand civilians that remained trapped in the hospital or in their homes. Jack felt the heat of the blast, and for a moment his heart stopped as he was sure he was about to die. Time slowed down as the beads of sweat collecting on his face seemed to turn to steam and burn his cheeks. This was it, the last moments of consciousness before the dark oblivion of death would envelope him and he could rest for all eternity in blissful ignorance as his mind ceased to exist. I only wish I could've said goodbye to her...