She touched the wire to the terminals and noticed a little spark, but was not even remotely prepared for the thunderous boom that followed. The explosion was tremendous, rocking the ground beneath her, and she covered her head as she slid down the slope.
Stratton grabbed Victor and together they hit the ground as the shock wave roared over them, punching them viciously in their backs as it passed.
Thousands of steel ball-bearings had been unleashed at bullet speed against the vehicles. The small metal spheres shredded the men sitting in the backs of the trucks, pulverised their skulls, tore their limbs away. No one inside escaped. Glass shattered. Every surface was peppered with holes. The vehicles dropped as their tyres burst. Fuel tanks erupted in flames and the bridge struts to which the mines had been tied buckled skywards.
Above the noise of the explosion’s echoes countless ricochets could be heard as the claymores’ steel balls hurtled furiously in all directions.
As the massive blast reverberated around the valley and began to subside debris rained down from the sky. A chunk of smoking metal hit the ground not far from Stratton and Victor. The steel balls came back to earth, splashing into the river and all around.
Stratton covered his head as several fragments of hot shrapnel landed painfully on his torso. As soon as the deluge of metal began to subside he was on his feet and grabbing up the remaining rocket launchers. It was not over yet.
A pick-up truck containing several soldiers behind the peasant’s truck began to turn.
‘Find a target, Victor,’ Stratton called out as he snapped open a launch tube. He placed it on his shoulder and a second later fired. The rocket covered the distance in a second and slammed into the pick-up. The explosion lifted it off the road as it burst into flames.
Stratton dumped the empty launch tube and picked up another. He was operating on full automatic, locked into total kill mode and not giving the enemy a second to recover.
Several soldiers scurried from a largely undamaged truck near the bridge and took up firing positions. Victor snapped open his rocket launchers but as he fiddled with the safety catch a boom nearby signalled that Stratton was ahead of him. The rocket hit the truck and the vehicle disintegrated.
Victor finished preparing his weapon - he was determined to fire the damned thing.
The peasants had at first remained in their truck for fear of being shot while trying to flee. When the nearby vehicle went up they panicked and scrambled over the sides in an attempt to escape the carnage.
Several shots came from around the only vehicle that had escaped destruction other than the peasants’ truck. Victor put the weapon on his shoulder, peered through the sights and pressed the trigger button. The tube shuddered as the rocket shot out to miss the target by inches and thud into the far embankment, showering the soldiers with dirt and shrapnel. Seconds later half a dozen of them walked out of the smoke with their empty hands in the air in the universal gesture of surrender.
Victor was stunned at the power of the device. He marched down the slope towards the river.
David and Bernard appeared, running along the river bank, guns in their hands.
The Indians crept towards the bridge, utterly stunned by the scene of destruction.
Victor crossed the river, keeping his launch tube aimed at the soldiers. ‘Anyone moves and I shoot!’ he shouted.
Stratton passed behind him on his way to the bridge. ‘The tube’s empty,’ he said quietly.
Victor kept the weapon on his shoulder anyway. ‘They don’t know that,’ he replied.
David and Bernard were buzzing with excitement and amazement as they joined their comrades.
‘David!’ Stratton called out. ‘Go round up your people,’ he said, referring to the peasants. ‘Bernard.’
Bernard was helping Victor cover the enemy soldiers and looked over at him.
‘Collect their guns before they realise how few of us there are.’
Stratton climbed the embankment onto the road and walked towards the bridge. The smoke rising from the wreckage was mostly black because of the burning tyres. Ash floated in the air. Every metal span that a mine had been tied to was buckled or shattered.
The bridge creaked and groaned loudly and Stratton wondered how badly weakened it was. He stepped over wreckage to get to the side where he could pull himself up a few feet onto a span for a better view. The vehicles were misshapen wrecks, peppered with