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Author's note: I apologise for the long time this article has been in coming. I forgot about it for a while, but if a full-scale invasion of the eUK does take place I be writing these articles on a more regular basis (at least one per week).

This article is the continuation of Out of the Sky Part 1.

We would have screamed, had the air not been knocked out of us by the force of the explosion, but as it was the dinghy was blasted skywards to splinter into a thousand scraps of fabric, the air gushing out to send us crashing into the banks on either side. Worse still, a number of Marines found themselves floundering in the bloody water of the river, being smashed into the banks as the ferocious current dragged them downstream.

Again and again shells pounded the surrounding ground. Spitting out blood and screwing my eyes shut against the acrid fumes, I concentrated my entire being on dragging myself forward, every muscle in my body stretching to its limits in order to put one hand in front of the other. Blood pouring from my eardrums, I crested a small rise and rolled down the other side, into a ditch.

Lying in the ditch was a soldier in the garb of the Royal Marines. His face was streaked with blood, his limbs twisted in unnatural positions and his eyes were glazed, his enlarged pupils staring listlessly towards the tormented sky.

It was then that I felt the first beams of sunlight hit my back. Turning round, I could only gaze in wonder as two clouds, then three, then four, then the entire heavens, opened up and sunlight burst through, showering the entire god-forsaken battlefield in golden radiance. The sunlight flashed off innumerable gun turrets, in an instant turning them from loathsome killing machines into works of beauty, while at the same time lifting the heart of every Englishman on the field. I became aware of a high pitched buzzing noise, starting very softly but gradually becoming louder and louder until it eventually drowned out the noise of the insistent shelling, which had by now lessened considerably.

Suddenly out of the sky burst a dozen squadrons of Serbian planes, the sunlight gleaming on their white bodies as they nose-dived towards the earth. Fire shot out ahead of them as several dozen high-powered missiles were ejected with immense force. Time seemed to slow, and my eyes focussed without my intervention on a cluster of missiles that seemed to be heading for the ground near me. The soldier lying next to me jerked his neck, emitting a low grunt, while all around Marines began to raise their heads to stare at this new spectacle.

Time returned in an instant; one hundred rockets hit the ground simultaneously. The cluster which my eyes had been following smashed into the redoubt blocking the course of the river, shattering it instantly, sending shards of concrete and steel flying in all directions. The tank regiment which had been bombarding us from afar was reduced to a smouldering pile of steel which had been melted in the heat from the rocket attack.

A massive cheer erupted from a now smouldering redoubt a few hundred metres away, and as I turned to look I saw hundreds of men, women and children clothed in dirty brown rags running in our direction. As they neared us their shouts became audible and the sudden realisation hit me that they were Danish Prisoners of War!

The children leapt into the arms of Marines as paratroopers began to land unannounced from British planes that were now flying overhead, while just below the cloud-line Serbian fighters victory-rolled over the smouldering ruins of Swedish imperialism.

Were you there?

Part of a series of articles aimed at Recruiting new players into the Military - subscribe for more tales of the Marines' valour