Post by William Torrance on Jul 16, 2016 19:35:16 GMT -5
In all my days, William thought, I never thought I'd ever see the Big Apple again...it'd been three-plus years since the Brooklyn-born riverboat captain and his crew had glimpsed the sights of New York City and what they - and the eighty-four soldiers embarked aboard the MV River Rose and the landing assault craft along her flanks - saw floored them.
Their first glimpse of the horrors of what the Big Apple had become was when they were negotiating the Harlem River between Manhattan and the Bronx; desolation was an understatement, they collectively thought. Scars from battles and fires alike had darkened the Manhattan skyline; indeed, they could see what looked like several fires burning through the northern reaches of Manhattan, while the occasional zing and zip of bullets going past them was a reminder to not be outside without helmets and body armor, something General McArthur had ordered everyone to wear when outside.
Their next indication that the Big Apple had fallen far and hard was when they reached Randall & Wards' Island; normally, boat traffic could either travel south and around the south end of the islands or through the Bronx Kill causeway, but a quick glimpse of the latter scotched that idea; a combination of a dropped bridge and wrecked hulks were blocking the route, which meant they had to burn time - and biofuel - traveling the southern route...
...but now, as they slowed down to a water hover just pass North & South Brother Island, William and his crew - Lena, Brett and Tanya - along with General McArthur, Lieutenant McKenna - correction, Major McKenna, William mused, forgetting for a moment the brevet promotion the young woman had gotten prior to them leaving West Point - and a few others looked at the location where all of there radio-direction indicators had said was the source of the area's radio traffic: Rikers Island. I cannot believe we're getting ready to talk to a freaking jail, William mused as he looked over towards General McArthur, who stood ramrod straight, looking at the island ahead with steely eyes. "General, with your permission?" he asked; after a moment, the general nodded her assent.
Motioning to Tanya to turn their radios on, William keyed the mic on the radiophone and spoke. "Rikers Island, Rikers Island, this is the MV River Rose, requesting permission to dock at the North Pier. Rikers Island, Rikers Island, this is the MV River Rose, requesting permission to dock at the North Pier, how copy?"
Their first glimpse of the horrors of what the Big Apple had become was when they were negotiating the Harlem River between Manhattan and the Bronx; desolation was an understatement, they collectively thought. Scars from battles and fires alike had darkened the Manhattan skyline; indeed, they could see what looked like several fires burning through the northern reaches of Manhattan, while the occasional zing and zip of bullets going past them was a reminder to not be outside without helmets and body armor, something General McArthur had ordered everyone to wear when outside.
Their next indication that the Big Apple had fallen far and hard was when they reached Randall & Wards' Island; normally, boat traffic could either travel south and around the south end of the islands or through the Bronx Kill causeway, but a quick glimpse of the latter scotched that idea; a combination of a dropped bridge and wrecked hulks were blocking the route, which meant they had to burn time - and biofuel - traveling the southern route...
...but now, as they slowed down to a water hover just pass North & South Brother Island, William and his crew - Lena, Brett and Tanya - along with General McArthur, Lieutenant McKenna - correction, Major McKenna, William mused, forgetting for a moment the brevet promotion the young woman had gotten prior to them leaving West Point - and a few others looked at the location where all of there radio-direction indicators had said was the source of the area's radio traffic: Rikers Island. I cannot believe we're getting ready to talk to a freaking jail, William mused as he looked over towards General McArthur, who stood ramrod straight, looking at the island ahead with steely eyes. "General, with your permission?" he asked; after a moment, the general nodded her assent.
Motioning to Tanya to turn their radios on, William keyed the mic on the radiophone and spoke. "Rikers Island, Rikers Island, this is the MV River Rose, requesting permission to dock at the North Pier. Rikers Island, Rikers Island, this is the MV River Rose, requesting permission to dock at the North Pier, how copy?"