Well here I am, I am Corporal Owens, about to go on what will be one of my most petrifying deployments of my military career. They call it the 'graveyard shift', when many soldiers disappear into that thick fog of the night, yet never come back out again. Zavod 311 is what they call this place, an abandoned Russian tank factory that always seems to be the site of stalemate between us American soldiers and the merciless Russians.
"Everyone out! Be quiet!" Hissed the driver of our MRAP.
I felt the cold rush into the MRAP as the heavy armoured doors were opened slowly by one of my squad mates. We all slowly clambered out on to the overturned mud as we deployed into Zavod for the night. I inspected my MK11 DMR and searched my pockets for my FLIR scope, I eventually found it and attached it to on the rail atop my rifle. I then found the silencer and slowly twisted it onto the cold metal barrel. Everyone else had M4's with the same FLIR scopes, but for some strange reason, none of them were given silencers for their guns.
Everyone was inspecting their weapons, checking the ammunition, examining the firing chambers, I was doing the same with my MK11. My weapon was good to go.
The Captain of our squad finally spoke, albeit very quietly, to give us our orders "Okay guys. We are moving through the forest towards the Charlie objective, which is the smaller building of the tank factory."
We were a squad of six, ready to fight whatever Russian resistance we were going to encounter, I was the only marksman, two were support soldiers and three were assaulters.
Just as everyone was preparing to move, I could already see some enemy activity. A single beam of light, slowly moving in between the trees, casting a shadow in the nearby grass bank. We weren't seen. The bank beside us was higher than us. We were in dead ground.
"Sir! Look over there!" I said quietly, pointing at the pure white rays of light coming through the trees.
He looked behind himself to see exactly what everyone else was seeing. "Alright! Owens! Go check that out!" He whispered.
I paced slowly and quietly through the mud and the dead leaves, then crept slowly up the bank. If I did this wrong I would give us all away and likely get us all brutally murdered by the Russians. I edged up the very top of the bank, where only my head and the scope of my MK11 was over the top of it. The blinding light beam swept away from my position and towards the left of it. Some kind of Russian scout was checking on the area.
I aimed through the FLIR sight, the scout being the only white spec among the cold blacks and greys of the surroundings. My reticule followed him as he slowly crept through the forest. There were two choices, let him go or put some hot lead into him. I radioed the Captain.
"One Russian scout. Do I take the kill shot or leave him?" I said softly through my radio.
"Take him out." The Captain replied.
I steadied my aim and pointed the reticule at his head. I was only about 25 metres away from him, my shots would land straight on target. I waited for a little while, then I gently squeezed the cold trigger, my MK11 quietly hissed as it fired a 5.56mm round straight into the unfortunate scout's head. The recoil pushing violently back into my rock hard shoulder. I watched the scout collapse hopelessly to the ground. He lay there, dead, slowly turning cold and grey on my FLIR.
I signalled the rest of the team to advance up. They slowly moved towards me, they struggled up the bank and scrambled over the top of it. I was the last one to move. We crept slowly through the thick pines of the forest, pointing our loaded weapons in every direction. I could see the faint lights of the abandoned factory in the distance, then the orange glows of fires that erupted in the battles during daytime. The night shift was a formidable task. Consider the FLIR scope as your vital tool to survival, spotting the enemies before they spot you.
We silently crept through the trees all the way to the rusted fence around the shell that was Zavod 311. The old soviet factory was lit faintly by the faulty lights inside, its old machinery likely covered in rust and frost, the old walls being invaded by overgrowth, the windows broken. On the other side of our fence were rows of ancient Soviet T-55s, covered in rust and overgrowth. A ghostly sheet of fog shrouded the entire area, it prevented us from being spotted at distance, as long as the Russians didn't have any night vision scopes, it's like the soldiers we lost to previous battles here were giving us a lifeline from beyond the grave.
As if out of nowhere, a Russian patrol appeared round the corner, three of them, from behind the very last row of T-55s on the left. They hadn't spotted us yet, but it was only a matter of seconds before they did. Their flashlights flooded the vicinity with yellow and white light.
"DOWN! DOWN!" I quietly screamed to my team.
We all dropped down into the overgrown grass as the Russian patrol walked past us. We were only waiting for a few seconds before they made a left turn back into the maze of unfinished T-55s. We jumped back up immediately and got back to our objective.
"Owens. Fence." Said one of the supports.
I pulled out my knife and sliced it through the rusted metal, I sliced multiple times. The metal cracked as it was split by the sharp edges of my survival knife. Eventually the metal fell out and left a wide hole in the fence.
"Okay guys. Let's go!" Whispered the Captain.
None of us looked very content with what we were about to be thrown into. We could either face little resistance, just the odd Russian patrol in the night that we could easily deal with. Or perhaps we could be met with a full on Russian counterattack, which would probably be the death of us. We didn't know and that's what made us nervous.
"And the graveyard shift begins…" Muttered the Captain.