"Tim LaHaye & Jerry Jenkins - Left Behind Series 1 - Left Behind" - читать интересную книгу автора (LaHaye Tim)

know the intentions of the invaders of her airspace. By the time Israel and her allies
could have mounted anything close to a defense, it was obvious the Russians would
have her outnumbered a hundred to one.
They had only moments before the destruction would begin. There would be no
more negotiating, no more pleas for a sharing of the wealth with the hordes of the
north. If the Russians meant only to intimidate and bully, they would not have filled
the sky with missiles. Planes could turn back, but the missiles were armed and
targeted.
So this was no grandstand play designed to bring Israel to her knees. There was no
message for the victims. Receiving no explanation for war machines crossing her
borders and descending upon her, Israel was forced to defend herself, knowing full
well that the first volley would bring about her virtual disappearance from the face
of the earth.
With warning sirens screaming and radio and television sending the doomed for
what flimsy cover they might find, Israel defended herself for what would surely be
the last time in history. The first battery of Israeli surface-to-air missiles hit their
marks, and the sky was lit with orange-and-yellow balls of fire that would certainly
do little to slow a Russian offensive for which there could be no defense.
Those who knew the odds and what the radar screens foretold interpreted the
deafening explosions in the sky as the Russian onslaught. Every military leader who
knew what was coming expected to be put out of his misery in seconds when the
fusillade reached the ground and covered the nation.
From what he heard and saw in the military compound, Buck Williams knew the
end was near. There was no escape. But as the night shone like day and the horrific,
deafening explosions continued, nothing on the ground suffered. The building
shook and rattled and rumbled. And yet it was not hit.
Outside, warplanes slammed to the ground, digging craters and sending burning
debris flying. Yet lines of communication stayed open. No other command posts
had been hit. No reports of casualties. Nothing destroyed yet.
Was this some sort of a cruel joke? Sure, the first Israeli missiles had taken out
Russian fighters and caused missiles to explode too high to cause more than fire
damage on the ground. But what had happened to the rest of the Russian air corps?
Radar showed they had clearly sent nearly every plane they had, leaving hardly
anything in reserve for defense. Thousands of planes swooped down on the tiny
country's most populated cities.
The roar and the cacophony continued, the explosions so horrifying that veteran
military leaders buried their faces and screamed in terror. Buck had always wanted
to be near the front lines, but his survival instinct was on full throttle. He knew
beyond doubt that he would die, and he found himself thinking the strangest
thoughts. Why had he never married? Would there be remnants of his body for his
father and brother to identify? Was there a God? Would death be the end?
He crouched beneath a console, surprised by the urge to sob. This was not at all
what he had expected war to sound like, to look like. He had imagined himself
peeking at the action from a safe spot, recording in his mind the drama.
Several minutes into the holocaust, Buck realized he would be no more dead outside
than in. He felt no bravado, only uniqueness. He would be the only person in this
post who would see and know what killed him. He made his way to a door on
rubbery legs. No one seemed to notice or care to warn him. It was as if they had all
been sentenced to death.
He forced open the door against a furnace blast and had to shield his eyes from the