OPERATION WRATH OF GOD, Chapter 14

Copyright © 2026 Robert Ensor

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All Bible quotations, unless otherwise stated or referenced, are taken from the online World English Bible (WEB), which is in the public domain. It is available at the following link: https://ebible.org/eng-web/index.htm. Sometimes I paraphrase the Bible and when I do so, I reference the chapter and verse. Direct quotations from the WEB are indicated by quotation marks. English language Bibles are translated from Hebrew and Greek manuscripts. I am no linguist, and I don’t know any linguists, so I have had to rely on others’ translations and romanizations of the Hebrew and Greek texts. Occasionally, I have examined the original Hebrew and Greek of the Bible, zeroing in on key words where the received English translation is debatable or misses the full meaning of the original. To clarify, the WEB refers to the Antichrist, the beasts, and the False Prophet, but makes no reference to any ‘Khan’ or ‘Lavani’, which are names for the Antichrist and the False Prophet given for the purposes of this book.

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor or a therapist and nothing in this book should be considered medical advice. Nor should it be considered a substitute for diagnoses, prescriptions and treatments from qualified doctors. If you have symptoms, I recommend that you see a doctor to rule out anything serious and get proper care.

Chapter 14: Flight of the Eagles

Even in the RAF bunker, they heard the trumpet sound. The presence of the Spirit of God that John always felt within his head intensified and suffused throughout his entire body as a warm glow. He radiated a strong light, so dazzling to behold that his features could only just be discerned by the naked eye. The officers in the barracks room stared at him, stunned.

The tiredness John had felt, the aching in his arms from carrying the rifle, the pains, cuts and bruises he had picked up in combat, all of it was absorbed and engulfed in this soft warm light. Not only that, but the fear melted away, too. He just knew he had nothing to be afraid of, that he was immortal and invincible now. He had been changed by God from the inside out.

He looked down at his arms. They were glowing. He touched his hands together. They were solid, tangible, but glowing. He looked to his right and left: Penny and Jennifer were radiant too. Because his mother was older, her transformation was more obvious. Her grey hair was turned to a youthful, lustrous blonde and her wrinkles disappeared. She didn’t look a day over thirty. She removed her glasses and dropped them on the floor; she no longer needed them. Penny looked like a goddess and from the expression on her face when she gazed upon him, John too was a god among mortals, a shining glory in human form, a lamp put on a stand that the whole world may see its light.

John cried tears of joy and above all relief. He had made it. He had graduated. Then he saw his children staring at their mummy and daddy and grandma in awe, but they themselves were unchanged. They had not yet comprehended the consequences. It would take a while.

Across the room, Berry’s pallid corpse began to shine. He took a sudden, deep breath and his eyes opened wide. Then he stood up. After a moment of absolute shock, Helen started crying tears of joy.

‘Berry! You’re back!’ She had never quite believed John when he said it was going to happen; she herself remained unchanged.

Berry’s resurrection drew the attention of the others, who came to look at their friend who had returned from heaven to walk among them. John resisted the urge to say, ‘I told you so’ as the young couple embraced.

‘Well, bugger me,’ said Pork Barrington.

A horrible thought struck Helen. She looked panicked, and disappointed.

‘John,’ she said, the tears still rolling from her eyes, ‘Does this mean I am condemned? That I have failed?’

‘Have no fear. Only a tiny minority of all the saved are changed at the trumpet. We are the vineyard workers who are paid first. Most of you shall receive your wages at the end of the millennium, which will begin shortly. Keep the spirit and his ways, and you too will eventually be paid.’

‘What now?’ asked Penny.

‘We go to the blast door. And say our goodbyes,’ John said, giving her a meaningful look. ‘It is time to rise.’

Penny sobbed and hugged her children and took them by the hand as they progressed to the blast door.

‘Mummy, where are we going?’ asked Peter.

‘Why are you crying?’ said James.

They passed through the corridor and the decontamination suite. Group Captain Leighton Bedfellow remained stood in front of the main blast door, arguing with a crowd of officers. Some of them wanted to send a scouting party out, to see what was going on. When Bedfellow saw the glorified over an officer’s shoulder, his jaw dropped.

‘Burrows? Is that you?’

‘Yes and no,’ said John.

‘Were you exposed to something – radioactive?’ he said, thinking of health and safety in the workplace – mixed with the Cold War mise en scéne of the nuclear bunker and the comic books of his childhood.

John didn’t bother to answer that one.

‘Pigott? But – you were dead?’ said Blimp Tarpley.

‘That’s how resurrection works, chaps,’ said Burrows.

They kept walking towards Bedfellow. The elderly officers took a step back from these luminous gods coming at them. Bedfellow gripped the holstered Glock 17 he had grabbed from the armoury when they finally left the safety of the Situation Room.

‘What happened to you?’ the Group Captain demanded of Flight Lieutenant Berry Piggott.

‘God.’ He omitted the ‘sir’.

The senior officers standing before the door were becoming more and more afraid.

‘Where are you going?’ asked a grey-haired Squadron Leader.

‘We’re leaving the bunker for southwestern Jordan,’ said Burrows, speaking for the group.

Bedfellow swallowed a lump in his throat. In a cracked, timid voice, that was nothing like his customary posh bellow, he said, ‘I can’t allow anyone to leave this bunker.’

John walked right up to him, glowing with ethereal light, and stood gazing into Bedfellow’s bagged, red-rimmed mortal eyes. Leighton had to avert his gaze. Looking at a glorified being was like looking directly at the sun: you couldn’t do it for too long.

‘It’s the regulations,’ he said, weakly. ‘I’m the commanding officer.’

‘We have our own regulations,’ said John. ‘Our own commanding officer.’ Berry walked right through the wall next to the blast door.

‘Did Piggott just walk through that wall?’ Bedfellow said, as if he might court martial him for it.

That was all well and good for Piggott, but John wanted his kids to see their parents off.

‘I prefer the door, myself,’ John said.

He had a clear intention in his mind. Suddenly, the blast door swung open, much faster than normal. Bedfellow and the senior officers had to stumble out of the way. The door hit Blimp in the back. He cried out, ‘Nyaargh’, and awkwardly moved aside. The mechanism for miracles was working far more smoothly now all that fear had been cleared out of the way.

Then John walked right past the Group Captain, accompanied by his family and Helen.

‘Stop! Stop! It’s not safe! For you, maybe, but not for us! Not for the children!’

‘You may shut the door behind us,’ John said, impatiently.

Bedfellow pulled out his Glock 17 and fired a shot into the blast door a foot to Burrows’ right. The bullet made a tiny dent in the steel casing of the door. John turned, an expression of mild annoyance on his face, as if a fly were buzzing around his ear. The bullet hadn’t harmed or hurt him in the slightest, but his children were still in mortal bodies, so something had to be done about this ignorant man, his gun and his puny rules.

‘No more guns,’ John said. All the firearms in the bunker instantly fell to pieces with a mass clatter on the black concrete floor. He knew this accorded with God’s will, for the Scripture: ‘they shall beat their swords into plowshares’ (Isaiah 2:4) was written of this time. It was to be an era of universal disarmament, the only kind of disarmament that ever stood a chance. Tarpley made a move to restrain John, but Barrington held him back.

‘Know your limits, Blimp. Know your limits.’ Tarpley didn’t take much persuading to let them be.

John, Penny, Jennifer, Helen and the kids walked through the open door, and up the concrete ramp. They came into a grassy glade surrounded by trees budding with the first shoots of spring. The sky was still oppressively dark. There was a distant roll of thunder.

Two lights descended from the sky. As they drew nearer, John recognised the form of angels. The angels were great tall ethereal beings with beautiful faces and soft white wings. They were clad in white and blue robes with lustrous tumbling locks of brown, blonde and dark hair. Their pallid skin was faintly luminous, like a candle lit from within, but they lacked the substance of the glorified saints and the Lord Jesus. There was a certain translucent quality to their skin, flesh and robes – they were only temporary visitors to the material realm, driven here under exceptional circumstances by the will of God.

Berry turned to face his wife in the clearing.

‘Helen, I have to go. Come to Jerusalem, I will meet you there.’ She said goodbye through her tears. Helped by the angels, Berry rose into the sky, at a steady, fast rate. He was a faint dot at the edge of their vision until he disappeared into the cloud.

Thus the scripture (1 Thessalonians 4:17) was fulfilled, and the martyrs among the elect (as well as some long dead saints) were given their honour: ‘For this we tell you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will in no way precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with God’s trumpet. The dead in Christ will rise first, then we who are alive, we who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet with the Lord in the air. So we will be with the Lord forever.’

‘Cool,’ said Matthew. The kids were all suitably impressed.

‘Can I do that, daddy?’ asked Peter, looking up at John with his big blue eyes.

‘Not yet.’

Penny hugged her children close.

‘Why are we out here? Are you going too?’ asked Peter.

‘Mummy and daddy are going on a holiday,’ Penny explained.

The kids became even more excited at the prospect of a holiday.

‘Where are you going? Can I come too?’ asked James, from beneath his thick blond fringe.

‘We’re going to Jerusalem. But you’ll have to meet us there. We’re travelling separately.’

‘Why?’ whined Matthew.

‘My boss wants us to go right now. We have some business to take care of first. It’ll be over soon. Then we’ll join you for the holiday,’ John said, helping out. ‘And we’re going to be given an inheritance over there, too. A large amount of land.’

‘Cool,’ said James, utterly oblivious.

‘If it’s just a holiday, then why are you crying, mummy?’ asked Peter, the eldest and shrewdest of the boys.

‘She’s just so happy to get some time off work,’ said John.

Penny laughed.

‘Helen here will take care of you and bring you to Jerusalem. She’s going there anyway to meet her husband, right Helen?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll take you. And thank you, John. For everything.’

John nodded. It was good to get some acknowledgement. There was a lot more coming his way, he knew. That would take some getting used to. He was to go from being an obscure writer and consultant buried deep in the bowels of a decaying government to the Prince of Israel, a figure roughly as famous as the Prince of Wales had been in this passing age. A clear voice sounded in John’s head, the voice of Jesus: ‘I helped you to save your wife. Now help me to save mine.’[i]

More luminous angels had descended from the dark sky. They beckoned to John and his family with outstretched hands.

John turned to look at Penny. Already he felt the surge rising inside of him. The feeling of warmth and exuberant life grew so intense that it made him buoyant. He felt lighter on his feet. Staying on the ground was becoming increasingly difficult, like standing at the deep end of a pool, or holding onto a power kite on a windy day. This was it. There were no more rising bodies visible in the sky. The dead in Christ were gone. Now it was the turn of the living.

‘You ready?’ John said. Penny and Jennifer nodded.

‘Remember what I told you. Just go with it. Don’t fight it. Don’t hesitate. Don’t be afraid. Let yourself be taken up and let him take you where he wants. Follow the angels. They know the way.’

‘Let’s do it,’ Penny said, a look of grim determination on her face.

And at that moment, John, Jennifer and Penny allowed themselves to be taken out of the wheat field as part of the first fruits (Revelation 14:4). They took the angels by the hand, were given white robes and were lifted up from the ground. Then the angels let go, and went on ahead, and Burrows, Penny and Jen continued to ascend. They rose at a deceptively fast rate, waving goodbye to the kids, who were soon tiny specks down there in the wood. John saw the runway of the air base, the four hangars, a Hercules plane, and two fighter jets, one of which was ready on the runway. Thankfully, the beasters had not figured out what to do with the aircraft. A few of them were prowling the runway in their hoodies and tracksuits, though Burrows guessed the main force had been eliminated in the bunker and in the earlier battle for control of the base. There was a military helicopter flying in the distance, doubtless called out to assess the situation in the region. They were quickly above the level of the chopper’s thumping blades. John saw the cluster of retail parks and housing estates that was Swindon. Smoke rose from the town centre. There were streaks of smoke rising skyward all across the Vale of the White Horse. Then he looked to the distant hill of the Ridgeway and saw the delicate chalk lines of the Uffington White Horse.

John, Penny and Jennifer were soon in among the clouds, unable to see anything save for the swirling masses of blackness. Then there was an extraordinary bright light and blue skies. The rumpled sheet of dark cloud lay beneath John, extending in all directions. He realised from the position of the sun that it was only around midday. The angels were flying to the southeast, beating their white wings slowly, rhythmically. John followed them, going with the pull of the Lord.

As his confidence grew, he fired through the air like a human missile: headfirst, arms at either side, soaring across the curvature of the earth. He heard a thunderous roaring sound, like someone was cutting through the sky with a knife. John looked around, swivelling his head. Two Eurofighter Typhoons were coming into view from the east. It seemed they were headed in roughly the same direction. Burrows picked up even more momentum and howled with joy. The restrictions, the awkwardness, the difficulty of being a human in a human body were simply gone. Everything was easy. A thought, a wish, an intention, and it was done. He was there. It was as if God had instantly turned the resistance off on the treadmill of life. There was however a little friction when he felt the pressure waves accumulate in front of him. The air seemed to get thicker. The rustling of his clothes and the roaring of the wind intensified.

The shoelaces on his left trainer were a bit loose – the shoe was whipped clean off. John didn’t care. He didn’t need shoes anymore. He didn’t even feel like he needed clothes, except for the sake of the mortals he would encounter later that day; the shame of the fall had left him. He had a wedding feast to attend (Matthew 25:1–13), and his wedding clothes (Matthew 22) were his glorified body. All of a sudden, the resistance lessened, and the noise decreased. Then John realised, I have broken the sound barrier.

The wind was still rippling through his clothes, but he could no longer hear the fighter jets (or his own sonic boom), and his body did not feel as much strain or pressure from the incredible speeds after he passed Mach 1.

John saw the fighter pilots in their cockpits; they had come closer to inspect him. He would doubtless be recorded as an ‘unidentified anomalous phenomenon’. John waved at them. They did not wave back. John couldn’t see much of the pilots’ faces for their oxygen masks, but their tinted visors were up, and their eyes were wide. They looked at him as if he were some kind of an alien. Burrows tried to go as fast as he could, tucked his arms back into his sides and started to leave the fighter jets behind at their cruising speed of 900 miles per hour. He wanted to catch up with the resurrected, if possible, and be among the first to meet Christ in Edom.

Then he thought of Jennifer and Penny. They might want to keep him in view. But navigation was pretty easy: Jesus had taken the reins, and the angels stayed in view as guides. There were a few scattered others visible on the horizon, headed to the same place, in the same direction. When they drew near, they waved to each other; of course they were nice and friendly, or they probably wouldn’t even be here.

John left most of them behind. He suspected they were others who were alive at the last trumpet in the UK. John was shooting across the clouds at such a glorious speed he must have been approaching Mach 2, the fastest he had seen a fighter jet travel. He performed some calculations in his head – this was easier, too – and figured that at this rate, he’d be in Jerusalem in time for afternoon tea.

Then he caught up to another group of the raptured: perhaps they were the resurrected from England and the Nordic countries, or maybe they had been translated alive in Germany or Eastern Europe. Either way, John soon overtook them. God was pulling them all consistently in the right direction, and all they had to do was go with it and follow the angels who guided each tranche to the Lord.

That said, John had seen no more than a thousand of the raptured by the time he crossed the Alps, whose snowy peaks were poking through the cloud canopy. When one considered that the total world population was still in the billions, it was sad to think that so few were worthy of the honour.

John reminded himself he had a mission to achieve; there was no time for solemn reflections or goofing off. Right now, there was over a million people who needed his help, and whose salvation would result in the end of the tribulation for the entire planet and the renewal of the whole earth. John had started the task of helping to save them when he wrote I AM COMING SOON. Now he had to finish it.

He increased his speed and punched through the centre of a high-altitude cloud at Mach 3.

 Read the next chapter here: https://www.robertensor.com/post/operation-wrath-of-god-the-rapture-the-second-coming-the-campaign-of-armageddon-and-the-kingdom-o-15

[i] Israel is called God’s bride in scripture (e.g. Jeremiah 3:14).