By the Blood of Heroes: The Great Undead War: Book I
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Train them . . . Arm them . . . Then turn them loose on the zombies!
At the tail end of 1917, the Germans introduced a new type of gas to the battlefield, T-Leiche, or "corpse gas," and changed the face of the war by resurrecting the bodies of the dead, giving the enemy an almost unlimited source of fresh troops.
When the American ace Major Jack Freeman--poster boy for the war against the Kaiser's undead army of shamblers--is downed over enemy lines and taken captive, veteran Captain Michael "Madman" Burke is the only man brave and foolish enough to accept the mission to recover Freeman. Burke assembles a team of disparate members, from his right-hand man, Sergeant Moore, to big-game-hunter-turned-soldier Clayton Manning, who funds the mission for an opportunity to confront this most dangerous zombie game, to professor Dan Graves, one of Tesla's top men and the resident authority on all things supernatural. With the help of a highly advanced British dirigible war machine to infiltrate enemy territory, the team faces incredible danger as it struggles to reach the prison camp and strike at the heart of the enemy.
But they are pitted against the most deadly enemy of all: Manfred von Richthofen, the Red Baron. Having risen from the dead with his abilities enhanced but his mind on the brink of madness, Richthofen has plans for victory that give no quarter to soldiers or civilians.
trail long enough to find an alternate means of escape. “When I tell you, I want you to hold it steady for a sec,” Burke shouted back. Charlie nodded. Burke turned, then yelled at Compton so he could be heard over the sound of the gunfire. “We need to stop those AVs!” he shouted. “Do you still have those grenades Professor Graves created?” Compton nodded. “Here’s what we’re going to do . . .” When Burke was finished, Compton flashed him a thumbs-up and disappeared back
canvas cover missing, and Freeman could see that they were carrying a full load of wooden crates, each one marked with the word Minenwerfer. He didn’t know much German, but that was one term with which he was familiar. Mortar shells. And from the sizes of the crates, he’d bet they were the shells for the big boys, 25 cm mortars that routinely pounded the hell out of the men in the trenches. Seeing them made him wish he had an armful of hand grenades and a pair of uninjured legs; he would have
working in it, using handheld hoes and shovels to move the soil around. The men were dressed in gray coveralls with the letter K stamped on the back. He knew the K was short for kriegsgefangener, which meant “prisoner of war” in German. Beyond the field, in their own double-fenced section of the camp, stood another set of wooden buildings too far away to get a good look at. Freeman did notice that armed guards were stationed in the no-man’s-land between the two
per General Morrissey. Paperwork to follow. Briefing at 1500 hours. Corporal Davis to provide transport. —Nichols Reassigned? What the hell? Burke looked up. “Are you Davis?” “Yes, sir.” “Says you’re supposed to escort me to a briefing.” “Yes, sir. Colonel Nichols asked me to bring you there straightaway.” Burke hesitated. “Any idea what it’s about?” “No, sir. Above my pay grade, sir.” “Yours and mine both, Corporal,” Burke muttered beneath his breath.
checklists. A ship’s wheel was mounted near the front of the gondola, allowing the helmsman manning it to see where they were headed and to adjust course as necessary. Behind him, in the center of the command area, a gray-haired figure wearing the uniform of a senior officer sat in a raised chair watching over it all with an authoritative air while at the same time dealing with several issues brought to his attention by the aides clustering around him. “Captain Connolly?” Without looking