Passportal 2
The Warmongers
by
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Colonel Gunn slapped the jeep driver on the shoulder and told him to step on it. Private Martinez hit the gas and sped around the Stuart tank blocking his path. Gunn wasn’t nearly as enthused about this news, as it seemed Vucinovich had been. After all, what else could he see that would be more shocking than anything else he had experienced on Dagor to this point? Gunn’s jeep pushed through to the clearing. As the jeep entered the plain Private Steven Martinez slammed on the brakes, nearly sending Colonel Gunn onto the ground. "Well, I’ll be damned," exclaimed Gunn. "What the hell is this, Colonel?" asked Martinez. "Your guess is as good as mine, Private. Guess this ain’t virgin territory after all. Drive on--over to that big bunker on the other side." Martinez pushed the accelerator and the jeep lunged ahead, skirting the various derelicts blocking his path. The greater part of each was buried in the landscape; sand and soil all around them with some sparse vegetation staking it’s own claim to this burial detail. The inhospitable surroundings seemed so decadent that even nature had avoided being a part of this fraternity of devastation. The armored column filed out of the jungle and into the vast clearing. Each trooper stood in awe of what he or she was seeing. Even Captain Jackson and Lieutenant Poindexter ceased their fascination with each other in order to gape at the spectacular and surreal landscape. Gunn’s jeep had followed the path of least resistance through the graveyard and stopped near a substantial, mostly dirt and sand-covered bunker. Gunn stepped down from his ride and climbed up the side of the bunker over the various footholds he could find. From atop the twelve-foot high landmark he could view the entire scene. He stood there; hands on hips and simply stared. What he was looking at was a large battlefield, age-old and grim. It was nearly a mile wide. The river flowed two hundred feet behind the bunker. For over a hundred yards ahead and on either side lay what was left of whatever force had waged war here in some remote past. The soldiers were long since dead and decomposed; age-worn remnants marked the resting-places of these primeval combatants. The derelict war machine lay mostly sand-covered as nature only partially sought to bury her dead. The ground was hard and inhospitable, refusing to properly inter many of the ancient warmongers. Jagged sections of walls marked where buildings once stood. All around were the ghostly relics of some ancient version of armored vehicles. Metal behemoths, hoary cousins to the tanks that had just lumbered onto the scene lay by the dozens throughout the field of battle. All of them had been destroyed; great blackened holes and twisted frames marking their throes of death. Some lay relatively intact on the surface, but most were only partially in view, still looking as though they were fighting valiantly to free themselves from the sandy grip of nature. Great cannons protruded from the alien turrets, aimed skyward, hoping against hope to again wage war on the enemy. But they remained silent; their battle long since over, vanquished by an ancient foe that had deserted the battlefield a thousand years ago. As the wind swept across the scene of carnage, Mitchell Gunn could not help but be afraid. Not of the once mighty army whose devastation he saw, but of the unmitigated power of the unseen enemy that had laid waste to this place of slaughter. It appeared that those who had defended this place incurred the only losses in this conflict. Their conquerors appeared to have been utterly victorious.
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About the Book
Escaping the clutches of the U.S. government, Major Mitchell Gunn’s warplane again graced the skies of the alien planet, reuniting him with his fellow pilots and the beloved plains people, the H’dons, the black horde of Dagor. When, years before, Gunn first led his squadron of P-51 Mustang fighters into the Bermuda Triangle on a mission to search for the missing navy patrol, Flight 19, he could not have envisioned that their next landing strip would be found neither in Florida or anywhere upon the Earth for that matter. Rather, their wheels would touch down on a distant, alien world on the other side of an ancient portal, veiled within a great storm at sea. Thus transplanted he would never have fathomed that he would again share the battlefield with the hated Germans, themselves marooned as well on the hostile world where multitudes of humans are nothing more than the unwanted refuse of Earth, good for nothing but slavery--or food. That time the enemy was not the krauts, but the innumerable army of Kuda, the Wolf King. The combined military might of the two WW II factions was enough to overcome the minions of wolf soldiers then, freeing the human masses who had known nothing but centuries of slavery and terror. The human populace had increased and prospered during his absence, flourishing amidst the lack of war. They lived in peace and serenity. That prosperity will be shattered by a new and more deadly enemy, from across the Mountains of Sambor to the west, a warmongering race of giants that rule their part of the world with brutality and vicious cruelty. They have invaded the land of the humans, pillaged and enslaved the black horde, only to retreat to their massive realm known as Kutar’uum. There, the celebration and pomp began, culminating in the Feast of Spirits, an event of unspeakable revulsion. Their vast army would return to the east, for the humans are the bringers of gifts; the ancient weapons of the Omnipotents, and must be exterminated, thereby fulfilling an ageless prophecy and granting them the power to rule all of the world. Therefore, to save all of humankind, Mitchell Gunn must take his vagabond army, equipped with the mighty weapons of a forgotten World War, to them, on their side of the mountains--where no human has ever returned.
About the Author
This sequel is the author’s second novel. His wife, Kim, remains his most loyal fan and cherished critic. A long line of military men has influenced the author. Among other veterans, his father, Donald was a decorated veteran of the Korean War and survived the infamous battle of Pork Chop Hill. His uncle, Orville was a member of WW II’s Darby’s Rangers. Randy is an ardent student of military history, his passion being the weapons, armor and warplanes of WW II, which forms the basis for the military presence in the Passportal series. Kim’s deceased uncle, Capt. Marion John Nutter, U.S.A.F., ret., and the inspiration behind this series, was a P-51D Mustang fighter pilot during the Big War. Randy and Kim’s good friend and former work mate is Colonel John E. Murphy, U.S.A.F., ret., who was, among a great, many other things, a pilot of the SR-71 Blackbird, and his various experiences further motivated the author’s fascination with aircraft. A father of five and a native Midwesterner, the author loves sports, movies, video games and playing fantasy sports