Backyard Bombs; Ch. 17

"We're twenty miles out, everyone check you planes and report by type."
"All bombers running and ready to destroy our long time enemy!"
"Cargo aircraft good to go and ready to drop troops on enemy soil!"
"Fighters are good and keeping a watchful eye!"
"Support aircraft ready to track threats, refuel, and hit targets on demand!"
"Very good, Russia will be proud!"

The aircraft made their way toward New York. The air strike from the night before hit all the eastern radars. The sun was rising behind the formation making it even harder for AA gun operators to try to get a visual if something was coming.

New York was normal that morning with the exception of tanks and AA vehicles patrolling the streets. However, that became normal and everyone went about their business.
"What do you mean five dollars?! For a can of soda?!"
"That's right...you got a problem?!"
"How about two dollars?"
"Forget about it!"
The consumer pulled out a hand gun and shot the clerk. He then went out on the street to annouce what he was made of, but no one heard him. It wasn't the traffic, it was stopped. It wasn't screaming, everyone was silent looking into the sky. The unfamiliar sound of Russian turbo-props filled the streets, a sound feared in Europe. No one knew what to do except stare. The aluminum behemoths slowly crept over city and then broke the peace. All at once the 'bear' bombers dumped their payloads on the helpless city. The bombs dropped in lines along the streets throwing cars around and damaging the New York infrastructure. The streets were littered with rubble, steel, and bodies. All this accomponied by fire and thick smoke. The was thick with ash. Those that were still alive tucked their noses into their shirts to try to breathe fresh air. Shortly after the bombers left the airspace and things quieted down. Though it was now calm and quiet those alive wished to be dead when the city filled with the screams of the bombing victims. Minutes after, the whining sound of turbos and the grumbling of diesels rolled in with US tanks arriving too late to do anything. The column stopped and men hopped out to check the surroundings.
"Private, take up a post in the rubble and call me if you see anything not american!"
"Yes, sir"
"Those bastards will pay!"
"I hope they come back with land units."
"Sir you just got your wish..."
"huh?"
"They're sending airborne ground forces."
"Well shit then...lock and load boys!"
The intel was correct, but what they missed were the fighters coming to clean up the city before the troops landed. Jets flew low into the city, all armed with napalm bombs. One street after an other burned in the jelly like inferno.
"Sir!"
"What is it?!"
"Fighter inbound!"
"Shit, cover!"
The Russian jet lined up with the street and screamed past the coloumn. Not a second later the street went up in flames. Burning civilians and the convoy with them. Only the tanks were able to brush it of, but the defenseless infantry couldn't make it.

The Il-76 transport jet engines now added to the sound in the air over New York. The transports dropped men and vehicles into the rubble that was New York below. The tank commanders that lived through the napalm looked up and saw the sky filled with thousands of parachutes.
"Well, shit, this day gets better and better..."
"Sir, what do we do...retreat?"
"No retreat...get on the gun and shoot at anything that moves!...use the fifty!"
"But sir geneva says we can't use excessive force!"
"One geneva no longer exists...Two who's going to bitch us out...Three we just got napalmed! Now fight or I'll shoot you myself!"
"uh...yes, sir!"
The gunner on the M1 Abrahms fired into the sky. Just as that one started other tanks began to do the same. Very few Russians were shot out of the air. All the chutes quietly landed on the streets and then all hell broke loose.