XX Author's Note XX
A short novelization of one of my favorite levels of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. I have had thoughts of novelizing the entire trilogy, with some changes for the sake of flow, realism, and added depth, but sadly time and other story obligations prevent me from doing so. Still, in my periods of boredom or writer's block, I've come to write this with some of the aforementioned ideas despite a lack of intended characterization. Enjoy.
Hunter Army Airfield, Georgia. August 12th, 2016—13:23:34 Hours.
The lounge was crowded with men and women from a variety of units, mainly from the 1st Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment and the 3rd Battalion, 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, most of whom called the airfield home. Most of the other tenants on base, along with the bulk of the U. S. Army, had departed for the West Coast in anticipation for conflict there, a conflict caused by the matter being discussed on the lounge's television right now.
"The body of one dead terrorist was confirmed to be that of American citizen and U. S. Army Ranger Joseph Allen, who was discovered with fake Russian identification. Mr. Allen was killed by Russian police during a terrorist attack on Zakhaev International Airport, which resulted in the death of hundreds of Russian and European civilians."
"The discovery has prompted outrage and calls for war within Russia, and there have been several close calls between U. S. and Russian military forces in the Pacific Ocean. Russia has vowed to capture those responsible for the attack. The United States denies any involvement in the affair but has not offered any explanation on the presence of one of its citizens. The EU has called for peace and an intensive investigation in light of the outbreak of anti-American sentiment in its member states. In Asia—"
In the back of the room, one of the men who'd been watching the broadcast shook his head and left the room. He was a tall, dark skinned man who wore an Army uniform emblazoned with both a sergeant's stripes and a Ranger tab. The name Foley covered his name tape.
As he walked away, several other Rangers passing him either gave him a wide berth or a glance, a behavior not uncommon in the past few days, for Sergeant Foley was the subject of suspicions. It wasn't surprising, considering Private Joseph Allen had been a member of his squad just a week ago. It was the first time in the 75th's institutional memory that something like this happened.
The 75th Ranger Regiment was the premier light infantry force for the U. S. Army and one of its frontline forces when it came to fighting terrorism, something that had been extremely prevalent in the past few years. Even now, the repercussions of Al Asad's insane bid for power that engulfed the entire Middle East in war were still felt. It wasn't just the price of blood—over thirty thousand American troops, including two Marine divisions, completely wiped out—but weapons as well.
A massive amount of Asad's former military equipment, including some captured American weaponry, had managed to escape the warzone in the chaos following the nuclear detonation that had brought the American invasion to its knees. From there, it found its way to terrorist and criminal organizations all around the world, rocking its stability to the core. The U. S. had been at the front of combating this, deploying its forces all around, reactivating dormant divisions, and expanding recruiting into their Special Forces.
Foley could attest to that. He was the commander of Hunter Two-One: 1st Squad, 2nd Platoon, Bravo Company (callsign Hunter). A veteran of several tours in Afghanistan while serving in the 10th Mountain Division, Foley had had marked his 3rd year as a Ranger just two months ago. In those three years he'd been to dozens of corners of the world, and even back again to Afghanistan- he'd been deployed there still just a week ago before the conflict with Russia had broken out.
Hunter Company had the same composition of a regular Ranger company: three rifle platoons, each containing three rifle squads and a machine gun squad, and a weapons platoon equipped with mortars, portable anti-tank weaponry, and a sniper section. The SCAR-H rifle was the Rangers' new signature weapon, a powerful lightweight plastic rifle that let them move fast and strike hard. When the need rose, they could easily equip a larger arsenal. With the recent situation, the need became more real, even if Foley hated to admit it.
It was still hard to believe how venomous U.S.—Russian relations had become since the 2nd Russian Civil War. They'd defeated the Ultranationalists militarily, but had not eliminated their political clout. They'd gained control of the government soon afterward. From there, it led to constantly rising tensions and massive military buildups, the likes of which hadn't been seen since the Cold War. And now there was the airport attack that threatened to spill it over into a war.
Foley couldn't fathom what happened. The last he'd seen the private, he was leaving with Lieutenant-General Shepard, the U.S. commander in Afghanistan, for a reassignment to some international task force. How'd he gone from there to Russia? The private had been fluent in Russian, but Foley doubted he'd been a terrorist posing as a Ranger. He'd been too proud, too skilled, too willing to lay down his life for his country and his brothers. There were so many questions, but no time to get answers. All that mattered now was that Russia was rightly pissed and could lash out at America at any moment.
"Hey, Sarge; world still spinning?" a voice asked Sergeant Foley as he entered another break room, occupied only by seven people: his squad, who were also tainted with suspicion. The voice belonged to Corporal Dunn, leader of Fire Team Alpha, squad medic, and one of Foley's good friends since he transferred into the Rangers. On the couch next to him were the two remaining members of his fire team since Allen left: Private Morgan, the SAW operator, and Private Ramirez, a soldier fluent in three languages and a graduate of the U. S. Army Sniper School.
Across and sitting on the couch opposite those three was Fire Team Bravo: Corporal Hoss, recently promoted from PFC after the unit's most recent tour, and Privates Ray, Coleman, and Alexander, all relatively new to the unit. He'd led these men in Afghanistan for a few months now, and had their complete trust. Likewise, Foley cared for them as well.
"For now, Corporal," Foley answered Dunn before sweeping his gaze over the entire squad. "Now, listen up. I don't know what happened with Allen, and I doubt we'll ever find out. We knew the type of Ranger he was, and that's what's important. Now, I know people have got their eyes on us, but that only means we have more of a chance to show how good we Rangers are, hooah?"
"Hooah!" they all responded.
"So, any word on where we're getting deployed, Sarge?" Corporal Hoss asked.
"Nothing yet," Foley said as he shook his head. It was surprising since the U. S. was in a rush to deploy as many of its combat units to the West Coast and Alaska. These places were the two likeliest targets if hostilities broke out, especially now that Russia had been building up its Pacific forces.
They were trying, anyway. Men were easy to move, heavy equipment not so much. When tensions started to build up, the U. S. once again started stationing its heavy forces in Europe. With the political mess over there, the U. S. was having a harder time getting the equipment out. In the meantime, they'd activated and moved in several National Guard divisions as an emergency measure.
They couldn't pull everyone back, though. Special Forces units like Delta Force and the Green Berets in particular were staying overseas in case various terrorist organizations used the panic to further their own gains, and two of the 1st Battalion's combat companies had yet to come home. Still, about half the US Armed Forces had redeployed to the west coast in recent days.
Attacks on the east coast were considered possible though, although they'd have to be small. Foley suspected that's why the 1st Battalion was still here and on high alert, in case anything did happen. If the Russians did decide to do something across the Atlantic, Hunter Two-One, and indeed the whole battalion, would be there to stop them.
The soldiers of the 1st Battalion and the rest of the base were awake at 0358 the next morning not by reveille, but by the simultaneous wailing of nearly every alarm on base. The current situation was far too tense for drills—it could only mean hostilities had finally broken out.
The response was automatic: men and women all jumped out of bed, quickly got their uniforms and kits on, and ran outside to form up. The personnel of the 160th seemed to be having an even busier morning—trucks were rushing fuel, munitions, and personnel to the aircraft. They didn't have much time to think about it; the companies' XOs met them at formation and told them to stop wasting time, fetch their Humvees from the motor pool, and start loading them with weapons and supplies. The officers would be along to brief them shortly.
As far as operating procedure went, it was unnatural, which only meant something really bad had happened to upset it. "Think the Russians pulled something?" Corporal Dunn asked as they hauled ass to the motor pool.
"Hell if I know, Corporal, but we got our orders for the time being," Foley responded. In his mind, he admitted that small-scale attacks could hit the East Coast, but the base didn't suddenly turn upside down for something small, and the Rangers certainly wouldn't need anti-tank and anti-air weapons either. Together with Corporal Dunn, Foley began stacking supplies in the Humvee in a rather haphazard manner.
The Humvees were being phased out in favor of a new replacement, but most second-line forces still had them—the Rangers kept still kept some to supplement their ROSVs. They were fast, they had decent armor, and they could be equipped with a large variety of weaponry ranging from guided missiles, automatic grenade launchers, and a variety of machine guns. It was perfect for the Rangers, who were normally air assault specialists, when they attacked by land. That was only half of their orders, though.
Only a token amount of survival supplies was being loaded, and most of the room reserved for weapons. Being a rifle squad, Hunter Two-One was loaded mostly with 7.62 rounds, along with a few belts of 5.54 mm ammo for their support gunners. A pair of AT-4 anti-tank rockets was secured in the back of each Humvee, their power enough to damage even a modern MBT. Lastly, a Stinger anti-air missile was packed into each Humvee. It was around that time that the officers finally showed up to brief their men, and what they had to say was far from good.
Foley was there with the other three sergeants in the platoon when their CO, Lieutenant Pierce gave them shocking news. "Russia's invaded the East Coast," he announced to the gathered men. It was a bombshell, but they were the elite, the rough-and-ready, and the tried and tested—very few things could rattle the Rangers. "Air strikes and para drops from New York all the way to Washington D.C; 160th just left with C Company to help with the civilian evacuations. C-130s are gonna land in a few hours to get us and drop us over northern Virginia. We need to counter-attack now and hard before they dig in."
"We don't have a more precise objective?" Sergeant Roke, the leader of Hunter Two-Two, asked. Their lieutenant shook his head.
"They just want us in the fight. We'll probably get an update on the ground. Right now, we just need to get our asses over there. Make sure your squads are ready and prepared to take off the moment those planes land. Clear everything out of the armory. We're gonna need it for this fight—all of it."
"Yes sir." the squad leaders replied before heading back to their men. Foley, on the other hand, was trying to collect his thoughts. Russian paratrooper drops and air strikes—it was definitely not a diversionary attack. They really wanted to occupy the East Coast. The Rangers were the emergency response force; they might not meet up with friendlies again for a while after landing. Lastly, their AO was primarily urban—lots of cover. They'd need some close-quarters weapons and something to blow away cover.
"Listen up, Two-One! News is just about what we expected: a Russian attack. Para drops up and down the east coast." Foley gave it to them straight. They'd all seen war; it was nothing new to them. A few whistled softly at the news. "We're going to hit them back, and hit back hard."
"Send the bastards packing by dinner tomorrow," Corporal Hoss declared confidently. Meanwhile, Foley examined his squad's equipment to address some shortcomings in mind.
"Corporal Dunn," Foley said, "get a grenade launcher for your rifle, and go pick up some extra medical supplies, on the double!" Pvt. Allen had been Fire Team Alpha's grenadier, and they'd need that fire power for urban combat. Also, if they were going to be operating only by themselves for quite some time, they'd need survival supplies. He ordered Ramirez and Coleman, his assistant gunners, to get shotgun attachments for their own rifles. If it came to close combat, they'd need those to blow enemies away.
Afterwards, Foley checked the Humvees to make sure they had equipment for every possible contingency. He spotted only one shortcoming and went to the armory to remedy it. "Ramirez!" When the private turned, Foley tossed him the M-14 sniper rifle he'd gotten. "We might need this." The private nodded and stowed the weapon away.
In the end they really did clean the armory out, and they gave what was left of the supplies to the Air Force security detachment that arrived to take over the defense of the base. The 1st Battalion was ready for combat, and the company commanders called their soldiers for a few quick words of encouragement.
"Now, I'm not gonna lie and say we have the moral high ground here." Hunter Company's CO, Captain Richards, didn't bullshit them. "Those Russians out there really believe we deserve this and will be highly motivated. But," he said in a more aggressive tone, "like them we'll be fighting for our home. This is our country and we aren't about to let anyone walk all over it, no matter what. It'll just gonna be us out there at first, but we will stop them. Rangers, lead the way!"
Even if they were several states away, in all likelihood the Russians heard the roar of approval that came from the Rangers, judging from the way some of them felt a sudden unease as their feet touched down on the yellow grass of fall. Whether or not they realized it, they soon would run into the same force that would stop them in their tracks.
