Behind the Lines

The furnace building was a roaring jet of flame from the fractured gas pipe the explosives had created. The residential block had collapsed in on itself as had the garrison.

A fire fight between the surviving guards and the Unknown Soldiers freedom fighters was going on by the mine field.

“Are we going to help?” Alan asked.

“No that’s their fight, our job is to get sleeping beauty and the Squadron Leader to the submarine.” Charles was torn between helping or escaping with their prize and had to reluctantly do the latter.

The confusion increased as the stunned scientists, medics and nurses came out of the main building straight into a hail of bullets.

Terry had just reached the exit in the fences when the flares on top of the main building erupted in reds and greens.

He suddenly realised why.

“We’ve got to go back and get the patients out before the Brits bomb it.” He yelled over the din.

But it was to late. He heard the sound of the bombers engines and the whistling death of their bombs falling.

Alan and Theo grabbed Terry as he screamed out in pain as the centre blossomed in flame from the incendiaries before a direct hit by a high explosive bomb blew it apart.

As they made their way through the fences they spied the Captain leading his men along to the crashed bomber to add their fire power only to find all resistance had gone.

All that remained was a few survivors from the medical staff wandering stunned through the carnage. One wandered into the mine field by the east road setting a antipersonnel mine off. She was ripped to shreds by the flying ball bearings which sent her spinning through the air to land on other mine which blew her to bits.

The hero’s felt dead inside as they made their way to the halftrack.

When they reached it Wesley stopped them.

“I’m going back to the rectory. When you get back to London play merry hell. They lied to us! We were set up! They just made us do their dirty work!” He was seething.

“Don’t doubt it Sandman. I will make it my personal aim. There wasn’t any fair play today. They condemned those poor souls to death. They didn’t have a chance.” Terry turned and spat at the ground before grasping his friends hand. “Be safe my friend and comeback whole.”

Wesley nodded and faded away.

Alan kicked the half track to life as the rest piled in, save for Theo who flew invisibly above them.

They sat quiet, each lost in their own secret thoughts.

An hour later they pulled up at the rendezvous point by the beach only to find the Unknown Soldier waiting for them with the resistance workers, his head still swathed in bandages.

“Right everybody out.” He ordered pointing at the two rowing boats with their Royal Navy crews. “They will take you to the submarine.”

Before anyone could stop him Terry had the Unknown Soldier by the neck, slammed up against a tree. The resistance workers levelled their weapons at him with a click of rifle bolts.

“You bastard you set us up. You let all those patients die!” Terry was blinded to everything else save his righteous rage. “We could have got them to safety!!”

“And then what!! They wouldn’t survive with their injuries outside of the centre!!” The Unknown Soldier raged back. “You think it is so, so, simple. All you have to do is put on a colourful pair of tights and beat up some bad guys and that makes you hero’s. I’ll tell you what a hero is, it’s these people around you who risk their lives and those of their friends because it is the right thing to do, even if it means killing that friend to protect the others. That is a real hero!!

We couldn’t let them live to tell what they knew about the meta humans.”

Terry reluctantly let go of the Soldier and turned away only to turn back with a fearsome hook that split the mans lip and sent him staggering.

The Soldier pull out a handkerchief and dabbed at his lip.

“I suppose I deserve that.” He said.

“You deserve much more.” Terry walked across to the others. “Let’s get out of here before the foul stink makes me puke.”

He walked down to the naval boats with the others trailing behind.

“Unknown Soldier?” Charles called.

“What!!”

“If it’s the last think I do, I will see you hunted as a war criminal, and your morphic skin wont hide you from me.”

“You are all to naiveté. We haven’t the luxury of being honourable. This is war and it is dog eat dog.” The Unknown Soldier told him. “I have nightmares over what I have done but it wont stop me till this war is over, and then and only then will I put myself on trial for what I have done.”

As they sat helping the Royal Navy sailors back water before striking out for the submarine they saw a group of people in German military uniforms being dragged out of the trees and thrust into the halftrack. Once in place the resistance fighters lifted their Sten guns and fired long racking salvos into the Germans. It seemed to make them twitch before they threw improvised Molotov cocktails of burning petrol into the vehicle. In moments the halftrack was ablaze destroying all hope of recognition of the occupants.

The hero’s and the submariners pulled hard for the submarine all of them wanting to get away from the shore and the cold hearted murder they had witnessed.

Wesley, dodging the patrols, finally arrived back at the house and slipped inside to be confronted by the two women in their dressing gowns holding pistols aimed at him.

“Thank God you are safe Father. We heard the explosions and feared the worse.”

Michelle said as the women hid the weapons away.

Working quickly they undressed Wesley and dressed him in his dressing gown.

Satisfied Wesley lead them out of the front door and into the street. It was just at that moment the captain passed by with a small corps of troopers.

“What is happening Captain? Have the British invaded?”

“No Father the research centre has been bombed.” The Captain replied crossing over.

“What can I do to help Captain?” Wesley asked. “I will get dressed and join you.”

“Thank you Holy Father. I have sent a trooper on a motor bike to recall the medical team from the coast garrison and I’m going to the hospital to pick up as many medics as possible.”

“Very well. I will get changed and meet you back here.”

The Captain turned to Alan’s friend Hans.

“Corporal stay with the Holy Father and escort him to the centre when he is ready.

Thank you Holy father but I fear there will be little we can do.” With that the Captain left.

Half an hour later Wesley was leading the women and Father Pierre to the Centre but there was little in truth they could do. Splitting into two groups, Wesley and Marta in one and Father Pierre and Michelle in the other, they set about giving the dead and dying the last rites.

The Captain arrived with the hospital staff and horrify news.

“My motorcycle messenger found the SS-Sturmbannführer Doctor Keppler and his staff.” The Captain said.

“That’s good news, when will they arrive?” Wesley replied.

“They were ambushed Father and slaughtered. Will you conduct their burial please. I want them to have a dignified burial here rather than a propaganda one in Berlin.”

“Of course young man, of course.” Wesley heart was beating fit to bust. “Take me to them and I’ll bring them back for burial.”

Following the Captain, who was in the motorcycle and sidecar combination, they reached eventually the halftrack or to be more honest what was left of it.

Wesley got out of their corrugated metal van and crossed over to the charred corpses frantic with fear of what he would find.

He looked in and began to give them the last rites with a wave of relief that it wasn’t his friends. He knew his friends so well that even in these conditions he would recognise them. Then a cold anger came over him as he realised that these strangers had been killed and disfigured deliberately to hide his friends escape.

He helped load them in the back of the truck and took them back to the church.

The next evening he held a mass for them and they were interned into the fresh mass grave the undertaker and the troopers had dug franticly for them during the day.

And that was what happened over the next few days as Wesley and Father Pierre conducted the funerals.

On the fourth day after the bombing a troop of SS, and some of the feared Gestapo, turned up, as Wesley was busy conducting another funeral. Most of the patients were unknown save for the delivery invoice. He was interring what was left of eight patients and guards when they crossed over to where Wesley stood.

He ignored them until he had finished and signalled the troopers and villagers to fill it in.

“Good morning gentlemen how can I help you?” Asked Wesley politely.

The leader swept a hand at him knocking him to the ground.

“You don’t ignore an SS officer. Now get up.” He said.

Wesley got up only to be struck again.

Wesley could have easily avoided this one but daren’t for fear of blowing his cover.

Everywhere there were screams of fear and pain as villagers were dragged from there houses and made to line up at the old wall at the north end of the village.

Wesley with Michelle and Marta were ushered across to join the others.

He called out to his flock as he was shoved into the group.

“Offer no resistance my children. We are innocent of any crime as our captors can see.” A SS trooper smashed him to the ground with the butt of his rifle.

Marta helped him back to his feet.

“Three days ago the Research Centre was bombed and raided by terror fighters. You will give up the names of those resistance fighters who took part. And as an incentive I will shoot you one by one every half an hour. And to prove I’m not joking.”

The officer pulled out his pistol and fired at nearly point blank range at the old bakers wife. She crumpled to the floor an obscene third eye dribbling blood in the centre of her forehead.

“There was no need for that Major” Wesley said bending to give the last rites to the woman only to be clubbed upright by a trooper.

“Take him! Who else wants to join him.” The officer levelled his pistol again.

“I was the one that lead the British Commandos, major. Not these poor souls, they knew nothing about it.” Wesley called as he was dragged away.

Marta looked at him in horror.

There was no way he could reassure her as he was dragged away. The pistol barked and another villager fell to the ground.

In the church yard the Gestapo tortured him in full view of the villagers. They half drowned him by forcing his head down into a pail of water, burnt him with cigarettes and pulled out two of his fingernails and beat him mercilessly while he fed them a fictional tale of the raid so unconvincingly that…

“You’re a liar Priest.” The Gestapo raged. “You know nothing of the attack.”

He was dragged back to the villagers and dumped at their feet. Both Marta and Michelle dropped to their knees to hold his battered form.

“Your stupid priest lied to try and protect you. A foolish thing to do.” The officer stared at them for a moment. “What a pitiful lot you are that your priest is the only one with any courage.”

The officer shot dead two more villagers in quick succession.

“You do well to remember your rightful place. Now get out of my sight.”

A Gestapo Officer crossed over and whispered in his ear.

The Major crossed to his motor vehicle and led the soldiers and Gestapo out of the village.

Once they were out of sight the villagers gave a combined sigh of relief that soon turned to tears.

The baker and his son crossed over to where Wesley lay propped up against the two girls.

“You are either a very brave man or a very foolish one.” The baker said in his deep voice.

He bent down and carefully lifted him up into his arms and proceeded to carry him back to the rectory calling out as he did so.

“My fellow villagers make way for the man who saved our lives.”

The crowd separated to let them through but many of the women came forward and kissed his dangling hand.

Wesley’s recovery was slow but after a couple of days he felt well enough to carry on his duties though he looked dreadful with his torn nail beds and multiple bruises. The captain of the troopers called in to say goodbye as with no centre to patrol they were going back into active service.

A week later the original incumbent return to take up his duties once again, releasing Wesley to got home.

The whole village came out to wish him goodbye. He hugged Marta and Michelle and they hugged him back, kissing his cheeks with tears in their eyes.

He clambered onto his rickety old bike and rode away into the sunset his heart heavy with the knowledge that he would in all probability never seen them again. It wasn’t only Marta and Michele he would miss but Father Pierre and Madam Du Parry with her bed ridden cantankerous mother and all the other normal villagers. He had become part of their life and they part of his.

That night a Lysander, a short landing and takeoff aeroplane used for dropping and picking up agents, picked him up and whisked him back to England where he was debriefed.

The meeting was a bad tempered one but not as bad as the one Terry delivered.

Terry was the first to be debriefed by the US Embassy security staff and he didn’t mince his words.

“Did you or did you not know that the bastard Unknown Soldier was getting us to set up target flairs for the British bombers to drop their load on the research centre?!” Terry snarled.

“We needed to ensure that the knowledge on how to create meta-humans was destr..” The US Embassy agent dealing with defence and offense liaison replied calmly.

“That is not the question I asked! Did you know that he had arranged the British Bombers to bomb the site?! Well?! A simple yes or no will suffice!!”

“Yes.” The US Embassy man said offering Terry a cigarette. “We couldn’t tell you before hand because it could jeopardise your mission.

You would not have placed the equipment and flares in the places to do the most damage. You would also try and bring the patients and staff out with you if you knew they were to be bombed.”

“Yes like hell we would! The flares and explosions we thought were simple smoke and mirrors jobs to cause the maximum confusion to allow us to steal Rot Wang away with the Unknown Soldiers acting as a rear guard with stun and smoke grenades.

They slaughtered them, showing no difference between the armed and the unarmed.!!”

“As I have said it was a necessity to stop the knowledge of how to create meta-humans falling into enemy hands.” The officials voice had risen a notch and he became hot under the collar from this onslaught.

Terry saw this and used it.

The tirade continued, probing, twitching, until, with a rush of blood to the head the government official yelled back.

“Of course we knew about the bombing we arranged it with the Brits. We need Rot Wang for own meta-human experiments!”

Terry laughed a wicked laugh.

“Well your wasting your time with Rot Wang he knows next to nothing. It was the little alien he was holding hostage that had the knowledge but just in case he did pick up some of the technique’s from the little fellow I had Fate wipe his memory of it.

He still has his great mind and will still be a great asset to the war effort but he won’t be able to create meta-humans, and since the Germans haven’t got any we still have the advantage.”

“You were not given orders to do that to him!!”

“We didn’t have orders not to either. Oh and if you think you can use another magic wielder to get him to recall the knowledge I had Fate remove all memory of his time at the research centre and put in the memories of being a lecturer at Cal Tech instead.” Terry stared at the man with an angry smile on his face. “Checkmate!”

After Fate whisked them away to the American mainland the inner door of the room being used to debrief the Hero’s opened and a high ranking British Intelligence officer entered.

“It looks like we can not use the Justice members on clandestine missions in the occupied territories. Shame really.” He said with typical English understatement.

“I think we can as long as it is against an obvious enemy target. Like the massive canon ‘Big Bertha’ that has been lobbing shells over the channel into Dover.” His American counterpart replied. “But I think they would be at their best routing out spy rings, enemy agents and home grown terrorists.”

“Agreed old boy, I absolutely agree.” The Englishman said taking a sip of his Earl Grey cup of tea. “Still a pity though.”

Two day’s after the bombing, down by the coast from the centre someone was moving through the shadows of the woodland.

The sunshine that filtered through the leaves to light the glade reflected on the mans gold armour.

At the far end of the glade opposite the newcomer was a massive man. The centres Superior man stood up ready to fight. Up in a tree behind him sat a curious looking man, the centre’s Owl.

Fog, Night, Celsius came out of the shadows ready to defend themselves.

“So we meet again my friends.” The mans voice was hollow from his all encompassing armour. Emblazed upon it’s chest was a Nazi Swastika.

“Commandant? Baron?”

“Once I was the Commander before Rot Wang and his alien pet put me in this..” He struggled for a word that would explain. “This costume. They have made me able to tap into the full potential of a man.”

“We don’t need you Baron!” The big man charged only to be met with a powerful beam from the Barons eye slits.

He crashed into the tree with such force it spilled the Owl from his perch who with unnatural agility twisted round and landed lightly on his feed.

“Do you want revenge?!!” The Baron yelled as the big man got to his feet.

“Yes.” The Nazi muscle man replied as he stood up watching the Baron warily.

“We will got to South America then into Mexico before infiltrating the United States. Once there we will bring that country down on his knees and show these Mystery Men and Women are hero’s with feet of clay.

I am the Baron that will bring a blitzkrieg to them and raze them to the ground and light the flames of our superiority from coast to coast.

Three weeks later they disembarked in Panama from a German tramp steamer and disappeared from sight.

One day after the bombing and when the troopers were searching the debris for anyone alive. Private Karl Von Bonn was at the site of the slave quarters when he uncovered the entrance to the tunnel.

“I’m going to see if there’s anyone down there.” He told his companion. “While you get hold of the Captain.”

He watched the private dash off when he heard something akin to a cough behind him in the darkness.

“Is anyone there?” He called.

Working carefully he lowered himself into the tunnel. Suddenly something grabbed at his leg.

“Let go or you will have both of us at the bottom.” The grip tightened. “I know you’re frightened but you have to let go.”

He turned his head to see who it was and screamed at the human millipede as it opened its mouth and attacked his stomach.

He screamed as it burrowed its head into his gut while he still lived, he was being eaten alive.

Hearing the screams the Captain and many of the troopers rush over to the tunnel, each with their weapons in their hands.

A good two minutes later the Captain and three troopers descended into the darkness, torches and weapons in their hands to find Karl.

When they found him they wished they hadn’t. He’s torso was laying in a heap by the wall The rest had been eaten away.

Shaking they searched the tunnel but found nothing but a few bones with their marrow sucked out.

They were at the far end to find the roof collapsed blocking the way out.

They had just turned back toward the tunnel entrance when they heard a chattering sound above their heads.

They, to a man, shone their torches upward to find themselves confronted by the creature.

It dropped on to them its many mouths open ready to feast.

The troopers outside heard the gun fire and the screaming before it went silent.

Only a few troopers climbed out of the tunnel along with the captain all white faced from shock.

For a split second a trooper saw movement under the skin of his friend but ignored it, considering it to be a trick of the light.

Down in the darkness lay the millipede it’s egg tube erect and covered in dry blood. It shuddered as it breathed its last. But who know what its eggs may produce.

A brown brick building sat incongruously between the tall skyscrapers like a memory of a yesteryear.

Deep inside in a huge meeting and monitoring room were a colourful array of costumed Hero’s and Mystery Men and Women.

A tall powerfully built man stepped up onto a central dais, his head was that of a Hawk and mighty wing were spread wide.

“Mr President.” He bowed to the seated figure. “Your Highness.” He bowed to the Kings representative, the Duke of York.

Though the beak didn’t move they could hear clearly in there minds his voice.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Friends.” He continued. “Our government and His Majesty King George the Sixth have requested that we meta-humans and Mystery Men and Women come together to fight spies and fifth columnists, crime lords and villainy at home here, and in the United Kingdom. We will be working with the intelligence agencies and the FBI. Some of us have worked together before but never in an official way more by luck. The President even gave us a name. ‘Justice’ and this building to work out from.”

He paused.

“I as acting Chairman call the first meeting of ‘Justice’ to order. The role call is as follows.

Atom, The Bat, The Cat, Superwoman, the Maid of Steel, Doctor Midnight, Fair Play, Starman, Hourman, Miss Sargon, Zatana, Fate, Nights Wing, John Thunder, Archer, Falcon, Joker, Harlequin, Star, Amazon, Sandman, Wild Cat and myself Hawk.”

And so a legend was born.