works reliably, fires fast until you run out of ammunition in the magazine and is accurate in the extreme. The accuracy is in part due to the fact that, unlike most submachine guns, the MP-5 fires from a closed bolt, something you guys can parallel to the idea of the breech being closed on the old trapdoor Springfield rifles. If the breech had to close as the hammer fell, that added force would inhibit accurate shot placement.
“We will have a goodly supply of ammunition soon, we hope, when we capture the Lakewood base in this time, but for now we have scavenged all of the 9mm Parabellum ammunition from the bodies of the men to whom these weapons belonged, in order to feed these four submachine guns. I will have one of these weapons, the remaining three going to three of you. Soon all six of you will have ones like these.
“This particular variant is the SD model, meaning it has an integral sound suppressor. When you fire the weapon, most of the noise of the cartridge will be swallowed up. You don’t have to worry about that. Only the mechanical noises from operation will remain, for the most part. The empty cartridge cases will be spit out. These particular models do not have what is called a burst control, meaning that they can only be fired full-automatic and semiautomatic, which means that a single shot only is fired with each pull of the trigger. This magazine holds thirty rounds. After all thirty rounds have been fired, you’ll have to change magazines in order to continue making the weapon go bang!”
His previously stonily silent students laughed, the first reaction he had from them. He’d have to remember to use the word bang often.
Jack progressed to field-stripping, clearing stoppages and operation of the fire selector, warning the men, “Until you become proficient with these weapons, I want you to consider that there are only two positions on this lever, not three. When you’re not going to be shooting for a while, put the weapon aside or must accomplish some particularly difficult physical activity, set it on safe. When you’re using the weapon, keep it in the position for semiauto.”
A check to his leather-cased Rolex showed him that he had about another fifteen minutes he could use before it would be imperative to get the men mounted. Jack started with Jensen, the boxer and marksman.
In all, there were twelve magazines for the submachine guns, and, by using the pistol ammo, he’d been able to have all twelve magazines fully loaded.
It would be prudent to expend only thirty rounds on familiarization-firing, a woefully insufficient amount under the circumstances . . . .
Jack led the six volunteers into the mountains. Each man led his spare horse, keeping their animals at an easy gallop. Jensen, Luciano and Standing Bear had won the toss with the submachine guns. Each man had three magazines, plus a few loose rounds. Additional weapons and ammunition would have to be scavenged from the bodies of the men at the time-transfer base. Hopefully, they had a lot of it.
Timing would be a total crapshoot, yet its criticality inestimable. The fate of humanity, as it likely had before and would again, hung on sheer guesswork. Logic dictated that Kaminsky or her chief henchmen would not care to drag a modern motor home across a good hundred fifty miles of some of the roughest terrain to be found in North America. Nor would people comfortably used to central heat and air, running water and the like go out of the way to travel so well beyond the reach of the amenities they’d gone to such trouble to bring back to this time.
Therefore, Jack hoped, the grunts with the tanks and armored personnel carriers and Humvees and old Jeeps and anything else would set out for the site of the firepower demonstration before the big shots did. The big shots most likely would not travel by VSTOL jet, but by helicopter.
The aircraft were the crucial element in the equation.
If they were on the ground, victory was possible; if they were airborne, or got that way, the battle and mankind’s future was likely lost.
Judicious use of the remounts allowed Jack and the six volunteers to overtake Lieutenant Easley’s column at almost exactly the same time that it reached the dismount point, before beginning the forced march to the time-transfer base.
Ellen, hatless as usual, one hand resting on the butt of one of her sixguns, walked