By Ralph Peters
Stunning scenes of battle…unforgettable soldiers…heartbreaking betrayals…. during this attractive, fast moving novel, a ruthless destiny warfare unfolds in a twenty first century nightmare: l. a. is a radioactive break; Europe lies bleeding; and Israel has been destroyed…with hundreds of thousands slaughtered. A livid the USA fights to reclaim the devastated Holy Land. The Marines typhoon ashore; the U.S. military does conflict in a Biblical landscape. Hi-tech weaponry is dead and primitive hatreds flare. Lt. Gen. Gary “Flintlock” Harris and his brave warriors fight for America’s survival--with ruthless enemies to their entrance and treachery at their rear. Islamist enthusiasts, crusading Christians, and unscrupulous politicians open the door to genocide. The conflict After Armageddon thrusts the reader right into a terrifying destiny within which all that is still is the horror of war--and the foundation of person heroism. A grasp at bringing to existence “the everlasting soldier,” Ralph Peters tells a riveting story that honors these americans who struggle and sacrifice taken with a dream of freedom.
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Plenty to make a man sick, to make him angry. But a good soldier just kept marching and did his duty. It seemed to him the world was going mad. His intel officer had just briefed a report that concluded that the top Islamist extremists in Europe had never expected their uprising to succeed. The whole purpose had been provocation, to deepen the split between Islam and the West, to make coexistence intolerable. They wanted all this to come to pass. Even Iraq and all that had come after had not prepared him for the irradiation of cities, the rabid slaughter of the innocent, and Europe舗s reverting to the continent舗s age-old habits舒such as the German tendency to stuff unwanted minorities into boxcars.
Just the Virgin of Guadalupe. And she舗d done okay by him so far. Patron saint of the Marine Corps. From the Halls of Montezuma. The brass just hadn舗t figured that one out. 舠Larsen, Cropsey. Take the flank. 舡 Garcia pointed toward the backside of the ridge. The Marines worked forward, maintaining good combat intervals. No one fired at them. But Garcia had his street sense turned on. There were still bad guys up in that mess, behind the remaining walls. Armed and dangerous. The human body was loco.
He saw the pattern now: Whisper, then shoot. When the machine gun kicked out the next burst, he used the noise and its echo to scoot under the railing. A wedge of exterior light shone through a doorway, leading his eye to the blown-out window frame where the machine gun perched. But he couldn舗t make out the gunner or his companion, who were out of his line of sight and and wrapped in darkness. As Garcia placed his foot on the next step, it creaked. He threw the grenade over the railing, hoping it would go through the door and not bounce back at him.