This is just a little short-story I had written for school. It was inspired by Battlefield 2142 and the ice age theme of the game. This is nothing special, It could've been longer and better but the due date for it kinda crept up on me and I rushed it to completion

I got an A+ on it though.

Hope you guys like it!

'Ranger

In a Time There was No War

Henrietta Togni always pictured herself to live a wonderful life. One in which her ballet and dance skills would be admired by the multitudes. But these dreams slowly faded away with the dawn of the second major ice age in the year 2312. The young Henrietta was only twelve years old at the time.

When she was little, Henrietta never expected to dodge bullets and shoot people she had never seen or met before in her life. She never expected to have been enlisted into the Italian Guard.

The conflict began in 2314 when the unthinkable became a reality.

Despite constant warnings from scientists and meteorologists, the world would not accept the idea that a second ice age was imminent and that half of the earth would be consumed and covered by a sheet of ice. Many believed it was an over-exaggerated theory. That was in 2265.

On the eve of the 24th century, the world's population stood still as a live video feed from the recently finished International Space Station revealed that northern Canada, most of Russia, and other nations in the far the north were buried under snow and ice. At first, international leaders believed it was a hoax until one day; the lights in Moscow, Ottawa, and Reykjavik were gone...

The second ice age had begun and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

The grim truth: Some will live, most will die.

As time went on and resources became scarce, all hell broke loose. Old borders were swept away and new ones were formed. Out of all the continents, Europe was the one torn apart by war. The United Kingdom was gone, half of France was buried under a one hundred foot wall of ice, and Germany was lost. The last few surviving nations reformed themselves. First were the Spaniards and Portuguese, they set their differences apart and became the Iberian Union. The remaining eastern European nations formed Vanderhassen, which would be the largest of the three new European nations. Last, but most certainly not least, was the newly created Democratic Republic of Italia.

In the very beginning, the Republic put its involvement in the war at a low profile. It sat back and watched as the IU and Vanders dueled it out in their own backyard. The Italians were being smart, they waited; they waited for seven years, until they finally openly involved themselves in the war on March of 2321. Taking no ally, the Republic attacked when the Iberian Union and Vanderhassen were at their weakest.

In the first few months, the Italians made amazing progress, cutting through the Iberian and Vander lines like a hot knife through butter.

Until Barcelona.

With the remnants of the French and German armies against them, the Iberians were forced to pull out of former France and set up a defense in their home country.

The Italians attacked the Iberian stronghold at Barcelona, confident of their victory. But the Republic's commanders were blind to the tremendous cost. Thousands were dead at the battle's close.

Now, Henrietta was walking in line with others of her company through the torn landscape just outside of the once proud city. The battlefield was littered with bodies. Burnt-out tanks and fallen aircraft served as a testament to the battle's brutality. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago this place was alive with action.

She and the others were searching for anyone still alive.

The 43rd Medical Corps, the regiment Henrietta was a member of, had taken part in the battle, both as a medical support group and combat efficient battalion. Henrietta's duty was not as a surgeon, which was her job, but as a rifleman. Her duty during Barcelona was to guard ambulances and combat medics as they moved wounded soldiers to nearby field hospitals.

Henrietta jumped and her hand shot to her Bianchi long rifle as she heard another nearby medic call out, "We've got a live one over here! Give me some help!"

She and a few others ran in the direction of the source, where a man was bending over a young soldier. He couldn't have been older than twenty. From the colors of his uniform and the gun that was lying nearby, he was not Italian. She helped the other medic prop the man up, handing him her canteen.

"Does anyone have a radio or a sat phone?" Henrietta asked as she got up. One of them nodded, "Good, call field HQ and tell them to send in an air transport to fly this one back to camp."

With that, she took her canteen back and fell back into line with the rest of the troops. That Iberian soldier was lucky. He was the third one found alive out of the seventy-seven bodies she's already seen. Then she considered herself lucky. At least she was alive. Her mind drifted back into the battle...

Shells screamed overhead as the tank battle in the plain intensified. Henrietta and three others were taking cover in a crater a wounded soldier was in a stretcher in between two of them. A bomb exploded nearby, she peeked over the crater's edge and motioned her soldiers out and they began to run as fast as they could to cover.

A few bullets hissed past her head. Henrietta dropped to the ground and fired back at the Iberian soldiers. One of her shots hit a soldier in the head launching his helmet into the air. In response they fired back, killing Henrietta's fellow companion.

A Helltalon gunship stopped right above Henrietta, its .50-caliber nose mounted Gatling cannon spitting out a stream of bullets that tore the enemy soldiers to shreds, a red mist lingered in the air briefly before dissipating.

The two medics who were carrying the wounded soldier were taking cover behind a nearby friendly tank. Henrietta got up and ran to them. A flight of Helltalon gunships roared past, their rocket pods perforating the ground in a series of explosions. A column of tanks began to move across the plain following the airstrike. The push allowed the three troopers to carry the wounded man to safety.

The improvised field hospital was located inside what used to be a house for a nearby vineyard, but no longer did wine stain its antique wooden floors. Explosions resonated outside. Henrietta barely had time to catch her breath before being pulled over to the side. It was her squad leader. He was in black uniform and was covered in huge blood stains; blood was all over his face and hands, "Henrietta! We need some extra security on these trucks. They're patients we're moving to the next hospital, we just simply can't take care of them! We can't take in anymore people!"

Henrietta nodded silently to him as he was called to attend to a patient whose leg artery had turned into a fountain of blood.

A small convoy of armored trucks was waiting outside. The last few patients were being loaded. She was sitting in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle, a Lamborghini IG-1 armored car. The driver had a pistol in one hand. There were three others with them, two rifleman and a gunner on the machine-gun mounted on top.

The engine rumbled as it started and then they began down the road.

Henrietta cradled her gun in her arms like a mother would an infant. The first two or three kilometers were still and quiet. Sleep began to grasp her mind and her eyes, heavy from a lack of sleep, began to close. But the grumble of a heavy automatic weapon woke her up.

The 45mm Ianelli heavy machine gun began to fire at a pair of enemy gunships that were zooming overhead. It was accompanied by several rifles and other machine guns that the convoy had. They were unprepared for such an attack. And with no radio they could not call for gunship support. They were sitting ducks...

An Iberian Diablo gunship aligned itself with the convoy and sat suspended in the air for what felt like an eternity. It thrusted forward, nose pointed down, and Henrietta could hear its cannon gyros spin. A buzz like that of an annoying bug filled her ears and she saw dirt begin to fly into the air as bullets hit the ground before them. As the tracers were coming closer, the Italian girl yelled out as loud as she could, "Get out of the car!"

The gunner, a single passenger, and Henrietta were able to jump out of the vehicle. The IG-1 armored car resembled Swiss cheese, and the remaining occupants were unrecognizable, spatters of blood painted the interior. The two unfortunate trucks behind them received the same fate.

She dove for cover in a nearby crater as the two Diablos circled back around for another pass. Henrietta began to pray, holding a small cross in her hand as the gunships began to fire around her. Only the sound of rapidly firing cannons filled her ears and she felt all of her hope was lost.

Suddenly the familiar whoosh of anti-air rockets interrupted the constant buzz of Gatling cannons. The two enemy gunships fell from the sky as large, flaming balls of twisted, metal wreckage. Henrietta risked a look over the crater's edge.

A quartet of antiquated Puma 6x6 APCs was making a rush to defend the medical convoy. There was a man standing through the small hatch on top of the vehicle, a Turcotte heat-seeking missile launcher on his shoulders. The pintle-mounted heavy machine guns began to fire at small Iberian infantry squads that were hiding in the nearby trees.

Henrietta made a bolt for the convoy.

She made it inside the remaining IG-1, manning the pintle-mounted gun. The weapon was large and felt unfamiliar in the hands of a surgeon, but the adrenaline was pumping and it was of no worry to her. With a quick jerk, the gun was ready to fire. Henrietta pointed it at the Iberian assault squads and squeezed down the trigger.

The explosive rounds left no one standing. She aimed at an Iberian soldier with a rocket launcher and fired. His body made unnatural spasmodic movements as the large caliber rounds tore fist sized hole through his torso. His limp corpse remained standing for a few seconds before keeling over backwards.

His comrade ran for the heavy weapon, but the Italian surgeon already had her sights set on him. She pulled the heavy weapon in his direction and let the cannon rip.

There was a panicked look on his face as the bullets zipped past him, but he did not react in time. The first bullet hit him squarely in his armored chest which knocked him back a few feet, the second hit his leg and made him bend forward and the last large caliber round hit his shoulder and tore off his arm.

With the enemy ambush defeated, the guns fell eerily silent.

Henrietta sat quietly for the remainder of the trip, using the machine gun to lean on. She felt somewhat traumatized with the blood of her comrades staining her uniform, covering her gloved hands, and on her face.

The town that appeared over the hill was bustling with activity. The city of Salvacion was established in 2314 as a refugee town for those fleeing from the north, but was shut down and abandoned a few years later as the inhabitants were transferred to Morocco. When it was captured by the Italians, Salvacion became the heart of the campaign into Iberia; like the brain of a sophisticated being.

Once the remaining patients had been transferred into the hopelessly bogged down buildings that served as hospitals, the vehicles of the medical convoy joined up with a tank column on its way to the front. Where she would save and take lives.

Henrietta's part of the battle wasn't over until several days later at the battle's end, and even at that she was now patrolling the war-torn battleground for those who were still alive and breathing.

Barcelona had dealt a major mental blow to the twenty-one year-old former ballerina turned surgeon. She has had enough of war and, in Barcelona alone, the young girl lost several of her friends, one of which was her own boyfriend.

He had died in her arms. Shot in the neck by a sniper. Henrietta was helpless; there was nothing she could have done. His dried blood still remained on her gloves and she seldom had the time to mourn his death and grieve her loss. And to the government, his name was just one of many that adorned the list which read killed in action serving the homeland.

She was left with very few options. Desertion meant certain death and guaranteed that she would never see her family again. Defection also meant that she would forfeit her life to an unforgiving enemy. The only choice left was to fight, fight for something that may one day cover the earth: Peace.

In the distance, she could hear someone calling her name.

A fellow soldier was waving at her to get into the nearby landed air transport, "Hey! Henrietta! Get over here if you want to live!"

She sprinted to the transport and jumped into an empty seat. The doors closed and the vehicle lifted from the ground, "What's going on? Why are we being evacuated?"

The man that signaled to her turned and answered, "The remaining Iberians forces are making a suicide run for Salvacion. If we were to have remained, we would have been trampled mince meat."

A disappointed sigh passed between her lips as the thoughts of reliving brutal combat shot through her already tired mind. Then she reminisced about her old ballet academy in Venice, her now deceased parents proudly watching as she danced to Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker.

Those were the days she wished so much to go back to.

War and its brutality was not what Henrietta, or anyone for that matter, wanted to live through.

Henrietta wished to go back to a time where there was peace amongst nations and hope for a better future. She wished she could return to a time in which there was no war...