Femlib Victory4. The male battalions are massacred by the Femlib girls. By Hardie So far. Acting on intelligence received, Lt. Col. Andrea Morrison of the Women's Liberation Army, set up her ambush. The two male battalions sent to destroy the Femlib girl warriors entered the girls' killing ground. .............................................................................. Lieutenant Jackie Gray crouched in her observation post, counting the vehicles as they laboured over the crest of the rough track which wound through the pass. "OK," she told her signaller. The last vehicle disappeared round the bend in the track as the convoy lurched its way down the rutted road into the valley below. The signal was sent. Lieutenant Gray joined her recce platoon of hardened girl soldiers in their heavily camouflaged positions by the bend in the road. There they could cover the flank of the girl army, and prevent the escape of any male survivors of the female attack. From their positions at the head of the valley, they had an excellent view of the battle. ....................................................................... Lt. Col. Andrea Morrison, Commanding Officer of the Femlib girl battalion, also waited. Relentlessly the convoy advanced into the valley. Fifty-five open topped, three ton personnel carrying vehicles (PCVs) were crammed to capacity with two battalions of soldiers of the Male Chauvinist army. Interspersed among the trucks were eight long wheel based Land Rovers containing the command teams. They were the first to die! The lead vehicles reached Andrea's marker. She nodded to her engineer sergeant, hovering over her plunger.. "NOW!" she ordered. The road erupted as the charges were blown. The lead vehicle, a PCV, went nose first into the resulting crater. Cursing men were thrown forwards, piling into their comrades in the crowded truck. The convoy ground to a halt on the narrow track. Then the machine guns opened up. Girls manning the heavy machine guns simply swept their designated killing grounds with fire. Other girls, armed with light machine guns, fired aimed bursts into the command vehicles, taking out officers, shattering communications equipment, cutting off the head from the body of the male battalions. Highly trained female snipers calmly lined up their targets and shot the drivers of the leading Chauv vehicles. Some of the other drivers tried to escape by driving their vehicles off the road, only to come to grief on the boulder-strewn, soggy terrain. Hundreds of men died in the crowded trucks as the girls poured fire into the massed bodies of the male soldiers. Several surviving officers and NCOs ran along the convoy, ushering panic-stricken men out of the vehicles, into cover behind the trucks. These male leaders were sought out by the girl snipers and slain with cool efficiency. Cheryl had brought the cross hairs of her telescopic sight to bear on the General as soon as his Land Rover came into her arc of vision. She could only see his head and shoulders but that was enough. Like all the Chauv officers, he had the symbol of his rank, in his case a star, painted on his helmet. This made life very easy for the girl snipers, who found it incredible that the male soldiers should be so stupid! The girl tracked the General's progress, waiting patiently for the right moment. Then the road erupted. The General's vehicle, second in line in the convoy, braked to a halt to avoid crashing into the damaged truck in front of it. The General's body was jerked forwards, then back, as his seat belt fulfilled its function. For a moment everything was still. Cheryl steadied her sight, squeezed the trigger of her weapon of choice, an ancient, but immaculately serviced WW2 Lee Enfield Mk4 sniper's rifle and shot the man through his left eye. The General's body slumped in his seat, a neat hole where his eye used to be, and the back of his head blasted open by the .303inch bullet which had cut him down. The map he'd been holding slipped from his lifeless fingers. The most highly decorated, toughest General in the Male Chauvanist Army had been slain by a sixteen year-old girl! Before the General's map came to rest on the vehicle's floor, Cheryl had lined up her sights on the next young man she'd singled out for death! All along the line of the convoy men were dying. Male bodies were piled up in the back of the trucks as the girls' bullets ripped into the crowded vehicles. Others were draped pathetically over the side boards of the lorries where the men had been caught as they tried to escape from the murderous female fire. To add to the carnage, deadly girl snipers were picking off male officers whenever they appeared in their sights. The stupid practice of having their symbols of rank painted on their steel helmets made the officers easy targets, and the grateful girls gleefully took advantage by shooting the men down whenever the chance presented itself. Many men escaped the initial slaughter, Those who managed to scramble clear of the trucks were being urged by surviving officers to make for the river bank. Gratefully, trembling with a mixture of terror and relief, the male soldiers scrambled over the bank to lie panting beside the swiftly running river, thankful that they'd escaped the carnage of the convoy. The surviving officers, crouching under the rim of the river bank, moved to and fro along the lines, ordering the men to take up firing positions. But there was nothing to fire at. The line of male vehicles lay between the river bank and the heavily camouflaged female positions. All the men who made it to the river bank could do was watch the carnage as their comrades were slaughtered by the girls. Bullets puncturing petrol tanks caused streams of inflammable liquid to flow onto the track and form pools under and around the vehicles. A stray bullet striking a rock caused the spark which ignited the fume laden air. The 'woosh' of instant ignition was heard even above the racket of firing weapons and the cries and screams of the terrified and wounded male soldiers. A ball of fire swept along the line of vehicles, turning the convoy into a gigantic funeral pyre as men and vehicles alike were consumed by the hungry flames. Lt Col Andrea Morrison, along with most of the girls under her command, gazed in awe at the conflagration. The convoy was destroyed. Now for the survivors! She pressed the button on her radio which sent a prearranged signal to her forces on the other side of the river. On receipt of the signal, Miranda Montieth, the detached force commander, fired the blue flare her troops had been waiting for. They had lain in their skilfully camouflaged weapon pits watching the action on the other side of the river. They had witnessed the decimation of the men in the vehicles, and seen the hundreds of panic stricken survivors reach the shelter of the river bank. They had waited patiently as frightened men were cajoled by their few surviving officers and NCOs to take up defensive positions behind the river bank. To the girls on the far bank, these men were sitting ducks! The blue flare gave the girls licence to kill. The licence to kill the men of the Male Chauvinist Army! And they did! Carol's machine gun post was on the left flank of the girls' position. There were about thirty male soldiers even further up river from her position. These she could leave to the two girls armed with sub machine guns who were in position to deal with them. Carol had selected as her targets the mass of men lined up along the bank in front of her and to her right. "FIRE!" she ordered. Joanne, the machine gunner, pressed the trigger. In a deceptively lazy looking shallow curve, the first rounds of tracer arced across the river and slammed into defenceless male soldiers. Some men died where they lay, like butterflies pinned to a collector's tray. Some slid down the bank to lie in huddled heaps on the water side. Others, merely wounded, or completely unscathed, tired to escape the hail of death by either jumping into the river or climbing back up the bank. The former were simply swept away by the rapid current. The latter were hungrily sought out by girl sharpshooters. Joanne let her gun traverse along the bank, noting the carnage she caused with enormous satisfaction. Her sister had been killed in a previous battle against the men. Now she was extracting her revenge. When she reached the end of her killing ground, she traversed the gun back again, firing a steady stream of bullets into the men under the bank. Anna and Sandra, the sharpshooters attached to Joanne's gun crew, were spoilt for choice of targets as panic-stricken male soldiers tried to scramble back over the bank. Most didn't make it as the girls picked them off with deadly efficiency. Some of the stricken men sprawled half over the bank, others threw their hands skywards as the girls' bullets tore into their backs, and toppled backwards down the steeply sloping bank to add their bodies to the piles of dead men on the riverside, Betty and Susan, on the left flank of the machine gun positions, had the task of dealing with thirty or so chauv. soldiers who were outside the arc of fire of Joanne's gun. Armed only with sub machine guns, the girls knew they were at a disadvantage against thirty men armed with rifles. But at least they had cover. The men had none. At a range of fifty yards, the girls opened up. Both of them fired off a complete magazine of thirty-two rounds of 9mm ammunition straight away, This was to take out as many men as possible and to cause panic among the survivors. The first objective wasn't very successful, as most of Betty's shots fell short. However, Susan managed to hit several men with her burst of fire, and that was enough to send the survivors into retreat. Some of them ran off along the edge of the river. Others made it over the bank and also headed up the valley, away from the slaughter of their comrades. Many other male soldiers, who had somehow managed to escape the carnage of the convoy also fled back up the valley, running a gauntlet of fire from any of the girl soldiers who spotted their retreat. They streamed, a wild-eyed, terror stricken mob, straight into Jackie's ambush. The young female Lieutenant let the leading men get to within fifty yards of her positions, then she gave the order, "FIRE!" Twenty light machine guns, each gun crewed by two girls, opened up with devastating effect. Male soldiers, who thought they'd made their escape, were mown down by the dozen as the girls fired into them at point-blank range. All the men went down. Most of them fell to the deadly fire of the girl warriors. Others went down to hug the ground in an attempt to escape the horrific hail of bullets which were pouring into male bodies. Jackie ordered her troops to cease fire. The Femlib battalion needed male slaves for the next operation. She raised a battery operated megaphone to her lips. "This is Lieutenant Jackie Gray of the Femlib Army. You men who have survived this attack are the only men left alive of your invading battalions. I will give you one chance to surrender. If you do not take this chance I will send in my girls with their bayonets and you will all die! That is a promise. I will count to ten. Those of you who stand up with your arms raised in surrender, will be taken into captivity. Those of you who wish to fight on will certainly die on the end of a girl's bayonet. Make your choice, ONE......." Sergeant Mat Wills lay prone is the hollow he'd hit as soon as the girls had started firing. He was furious at the turn of events. He'd seen his platoon slaughtered by the girls in the valley, every man cut down by the deadly female fighters. By a lot of luck a modicum of skill, the sergeant had survived. Now he was under attack once more. He could sense that the surviving men around him were preparing to surrender. Yet all his experience and instincts told him that there were only a few girl soldiers between the men and safety. He was NOT going to surrender to a bunch of feeble females! He was going to fight; to lead the male soldiers to freedom. "........SEVEN..... EIGHT......" "C'mon men!" The sergeant's voice rose clearly above the fading sounds of battle. "They're only fucking girls! Let's get them! Follow me! CHARGE!" Sergeant Wills, sprang to his feet. From their positions in cover all over the landscape, about a hundred and fifty surviving men rose to obey the sergeant's command. Screaming like madmen, firing blindly as they came, they charged the girls' positions. Many other warriors outnumbered by four to one by the hulking, screaming men would have panicked under the onslaught, but Jackie's battle hardened girls stayed perfectly calm. They had used the lull in the engagement to reload all their weapons, and now, with deadly precision, the girls opened up on the charging male soldiers. The men ran straight into a wall of lead. Battle cries turned to screams of pain and then to whimpers as the girls' bullets smacked into hard, male bodies. All along the line men went down. Those who weren't hit, faltered. Some threw themselves to the ground in self preservation, others, amazingly, just stopped and stood there, stunned by the slaughter of their comrades, while other turned and ran. Jackie blew a shrill, strident blast on her whistle. The girls stopped firing, drew their bayonets from the scabbards on their belts and sprang into the attack. The high pitched, feminine screams of the charging young girls were enough to freeze the blood of the cowering male survivors. They hardly had time to realise their new predicament when the girls were upon them. With cold ferocity, the girls charged into their male adversaries. Slender young girls closed with powerfully muscled men in the most savage of hand-to-hand fighting. Jackie, leading from the front, as always, headed straight for the miraculously surviving Sergeant Wills. Out of ammunition, he lunged at her with his bayoneted rifle, finding only space as the lithe young girl swayed past his outstretched weapon and swept her fighting knife upwards towards the young man's magnificent, male body. Wills frantically jerked sideways, quickly enough to avoid a lethal blow, but not fast enough to escape altogether as Jackie's knife sliced along the side of his rib cage. Blood flowed from the deep cut as the man sprang backwards, his left arm pressing against the stinging wound, as he brought his rifle back into the en garde position. Jackie circled the large, muscular male soldier, staying just out of reach of a lunge from the man's bayonet. Her eyes gleamed with the excitement of combat, the excitement of taking on such a brawny, magnificently muscled warrior almost twice her size. This was the situation she most enjoyed, when she, a slender, slightly built young girl could test her skill against a huge, powerful male and bring him down until he lay broken at her feet! She feinted an attack, then danced to her right as the soldier lunged to repel her. The man missed with his bayonet. Then he made the fatal mistake of leaning back and trying to swing the butt of his rifle up under the girl's jaw, wincing, eyes blurring in agony as he stretched the muscles around his gaping wound. Jackie danced aside with feline grace, transferred her knife to her left hand with one fluid movement and lunged forward. The male soldier stiffened with shock as six inches of female steel slammed into his sternum. Then the girl's knife sliced upwards until the lethal point ruptured the soldier's valiant heart. Wills dropped his rifle, clutched at the deadly weapon invading his mighty body, sank to his knees in dismay as he gazed for the last time at the slip of a girl who had beaten him, then toppled over to sprawl in death at her feet. Jackie put her foot on the man's broad chest and pulled her knife from his body. All around her men were dying as the girls cut them to pieces with ruthless efficiency. Massive, muscular males, unable to match the speed and skill of the nubile young girls who fought them, fell under the blades of the ferocious female fighters. The male soldiers were slaughtered to a man, slain in combat by the cute, beautiful young teenage girls they'd come to destroy. Now the bodies of the massacred men littered the landscape as the girls stood over them, celebrating yet another victory of the Women's Liberation Army over the Male Chauvinist warriors. Jackie reported in by radio. "How many prisoners?" she was asked. "Oops!" said Jackie. To be cont........................................