'Advance to Contact': The 2015, Map Illustrated Edition (Armageddon's Song Book 2)

Volume 2 of a 5 part series that goes further than even Tom Clancy's classic, in a tale of truly global, world war.

Washington DC, Taipei, NATOs North Cape naval picket, and two carrier combat groups have been destroyed by nuclear weapons. NATO is on the back foot and her potential allies are thinning out as China shows no hesitation in levelling entire cities.
Major Bedonavich and Svetlana Vorsoff are our spies with a conscience and now they are in from the cold, but someone will go to any lengths to exact revenge.
Perhaps baiting the Bear in his lair is their only hope of survival?

The NATO army in Europe, with the battered but defiant Coldstream Guards and US 82nd are holding the line. Vital supplies are enroute from America but the determination of those in the convoys and escorts is matched by those charged with sinking them.

NATO needs to level the playing field, and then tilt it in their favour.

Who better to engineer the destruction of China's ICBMs in their rocky redoubt than a combined unit of arctic and mountain warfare specialist Royal Marines, Green Berets and the SAS Mountain Troop led by Major Richard Dewar.

Who better to find and sink the 'Chinese Boomer' than the US Los Angeles and Sea Wolf class hunter killers, with a little help from HMS Hood.

The second novel in the Armageddon's Song series again shows you not just a story from a US point of view, but also through the eyes and deeds of the other combatants, both friend and foe.
Once more, get up close and personal with the infantryman walking point, the pilot in the dog fight and those who ultimately command the armies.
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The battalion had laagered-up for the night, listening patrols, recce patrols and two fighting patrols laying ambushes had gone out just after last light. The rest of the battalion was dug in, the infantry in a protective ring about the armour and APCs.
Lt Col Pat Reed was curled up in his green maggot when a signaler crunched through the snow to his shell scrape, summoning him to the mobile CP. His teeth were chattering as he pushed through the blackouts and into the APCs interior, squinting against the light over the communications gear.
“Bollocks…it’s as cold as a tarts heart out there!”
The adjutant had the duty watch keepers seat, he moved aside for the CO and handed him a signal’s pad, re-seating himself in the shadows and earning a grumble from an off-duty signaler who was sleeping there. The CO stole the adjutants coffee without any word of apology, sipping at the hot brew and making a face, as he read the decoded BATCO message.
“Who the bloody hell are ‘Address Group, Quebec Kilo’ when they’re at home, Timothy?” and handed back the mug. He next stole the duty signallers, took a tentative sip and again screwed up his face.
“I do wish you children would forget all that health crap, and start taking sugar in your tea and coffee.”
The adjutant gave his boss a moment and then answered the question. “They are forces under direct control of SACEUR, sir. In this case its ‘Twenty Two’, or at least the G Squadron part of it…their Sunray should be coming through the perimeter shortly, I sent Sarn’t Higgins from Defence Platoon to guide him through.” ‘Twenty Two’ or ‘The Regiment’, being the names the SAS are often referred to.
“Oh Christ…no doubt we’ll be reading about ourselves in some book after the war, in unflattering terms that bear no relation whatsoever to reality, and entitled ‘How the war was won by me…and everyone else was a wanker’.”

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The tanned man’s hand moved, the movement catching the Major’s eye and Constantine shot him three times in quick succession, the bulky sound suppressor doing its job, the ejected spent cases ringing like chimes as they struck the old and burnished brass artillery shell casing that acted as an umbrella stand now, before clattering onto the polished oak floorboards and rolling away.