1275psi -> RE: Letters from a Prime Minister (6/15/2016 11:51:35 AM)
|
Cruisers Dortcheshire, Hobart, Achilles, the N class destroyers steam steadily south from Carnovan. There was fuel a plenty there, held in a score of transports holds. Ammunition, there was none to be had. Thus, a return to Adelaide. Some bright spark, thinks John, has decided to totally empty the ammo against Perth. But, as the sun rises, its apparent something has changed. Geraldon field has grown large enough to take, field Vals. Too many of the buggars Again, the hard hat. Again, the craning head, twisting shoulders, peering into the sun, the screaming fans, the rushing waters, the crack of the guns. The diving eagles, the whistles, the crumps, the crumps of the misses, the towering water spouts Shrapnel hisses across Napiers bridge, hisses, whizzes, bangs, clatters. A cry of pain behind John, a man, a friend, a companion collapsing More crumps, then, horribly, the bangs, thumps, as bombs strike home. All three cruisers are struck, struck hard. Carnovan offers little, it will have to do. Shocked, humiliated, the task force turns to the North.
|
|
|
|