Well, we made it, in case you hadn’t guessed. That was hell on Earth though. It was like some kind of surreal video game.
The convoy came barrelling out of the camp like a runaway locomotive. The Slovs didn’t take too kindly to their prey escaping and came flooding out of the towns like locusts, running out on to the road and lurching at us from all sides. The 50 cals (big ass machineguns) on the back of each humvee blasted them to paste and the trucks rolled right over anything that got in the way. For my part, I took the odd pot-shot out the back of the covered truck I was sitting in, but don’t think I hit much. The fuel tankers bore the worst of it, not being armed and not having the wheels to squish bodies that easily. Still, they made it through intact. One of the humvees near the back lost its gunner to a Slov that managed to climb up on top and haul him out. Hope the poor sod had the forethought to bite a bullet before they turned him into an afternoon picnic.
So, like I say, we got here in the end. Not much to report once we were past the first couple of townships hosting the snotty conventions. After that it was plain sailing until we got to the small airport in Cornwall. By the time we got here the gunships and troops from the ‘choppers that had set out that morning had secured the area and the civvies were making themselves at home in the airport sheds (not really a terminal as it is military, but keeps the rain off).
So here we are. A couple of missions out to the neighbouring houses to ensure there were no surprises out there for us and we hunkered down for the night, ready to start making plans for our new home tomorrow. Bet those Slovs are pissed they didn’t strike earlier.