The sun set beyond the vast field of pine trees, running long and distant through the West German countryside. With it's light gone the treeline now cast a heavier shadow on the angular dark silhouettes of the infantry fighting vehicles scattered around the open field. The crosses on their iron chassis all but fading now, washed off into the dark green paint.
Commanding officers used the protective barrier of the nearby trees as a safe spot for the soldiers to hunker down, safe from the threat of being crushed under the metal tracks of the IFV's in case of a sudden drill, and there had been a lot of those lately, more than enough to cause serious worry among the squads, which sat down underneath the camouflage nets spread across between the vehicles and the tree stumps.
Although a 'no-light' order was given, there weren't any officers to enforce it in sight for hours now, so the soldiers allowed themselves to spark several campfires to help with the biting cold, huddling up against the fire with circles of tanned uniforms and passing among themselves rumors and speculation about the somber future. Only one squad seemed to be completely unaffected by the situation, joking and laughing out loud at the far corner of the bivouac.
"Have they completely lost their mind or something?" Stefan hissed out in his mother tongue, sitting hunched over the campfire that barely lit the other faces around it, all members of squad four.
"Every man and his own way of dealing with stress. In this case, men." Karl answered in his usual calm, indifferent tone. He and Stefan were the most veteran of the squad members, both used to the way operational exercises were usually conducted. As such, they were the ones who mostly spoke, the others keeping their mouths closed and ears open, smart enough to let those who know what they're talking about complain when it's due.
It's been a strange few days for the platoon, unexpectedly so. Not because of the exercises but their sheer quantity. For almost a week now, they had moved from the Southern corner of the border to it's very Northern peak, driving by night, camping and conducting training by day. Stefan was sure at this point that there was no more of Germany they could explore, that he knew every country road of every rural area possible. Even this pine field was no virgin territory, the mud was tossed and turned by the tracks of previously passed IFV's and the men inside of them.
Using the moment of silence to think of home, Stefan leaned back and let his eyes shut closed, let the painful memories of better times overtake him. He rarely allowed himself that, although no patriot Stefan Wagner was a loyal man - to the very bone. If he was to be a soldier, he will be the best one he can until his conscription ends. A stoic way of viewing life and it's perils, but it worked for him up until now. At least in anything and everything but his relationships. With his parents, but most importantly with his girlfriend. He loved her, he truly did. Anna was a special kind of girl, which held a special place in his heart, even if he could never truly show it to her. He wished he did, he wished he would've just paused time for a moment, tell her how much she truly meant to him before leaving for the army. But he could never bring himself to, and now she had probably already moved on, found herself a better man, one that can vocally appreciate her, and she was happy. He hoped she was.
His train of thought was derailed as Michael, squad four's designated machine gunner, couldn't stand the wait anymore and rustled pack of rations open. He was a hefty man, the military diet did not suit him very well and he was constantly found eating out of order, to the point where no one among the men noted about it. In fact, some even decided to join him, silently taking their own rations out and beginning to unpack them. They paused when the squad Sergeant arrived, stepping out of the shadows and into the circle of light cast by the flames, only to continue eating when he didn't seem to care. Stefan looked him over, and judging by his deadpan face he had other things on his mind than who eats and who does not…
Karl hit the man next to him on the lap and the two shuffled aside, giving some space to Sergeant Hermann that took the cue and sat down among his men after unbuckling the camouflage helmet on his head. Though obviously he tried to think of a way to tell something rather serious to the men, Stefan had already stepped in before Hermann could start his own sentence.
"Unteroffizier, did you speak with the higher-command yet? Did they finally tell you what the hell is going on with the sudden spike of activity?"
"As much as I hate to admit it I'm with Wagner on this one," Karl reinforced, curious about the situation as well, same as with every other man in the squad who was too reluctant to speak up. "I mean the Bundesgrenzschutz, I'd understand, gotta keep the Communist menace out of our lands, eh. But us? We're mechanized infantry…"
"I know what we are, Hauptgefreiter." Hermann spoke out in a metallic voice, the authority in it putting anyone who was not already into immediate attention, "And I know how everything must seem to you all. Unfortunately… I cannot confirm or deny your concerns, I am just here to pass on orders from the Oberleutnant."
"Orders?!" Exclaimed Stefan, though a fiery gaze from the Sergeant shortly put him in his place. Hermann was a man truly devoted to his role, a picture-perfect soldier, so much so that each member of the squad wondered at least once why he served the role of a non-commissioned officer of all things. Seeing his surefire attitude switched with cold, dead stoicism made even Karl, the oldest of the men, knit his eyebrows in concern.
"Yes, orders, and we are to obey them. A simple patrol to the North-Eastern parts of the woods. A detachment of engineers lent from squads two and three went up there to take a look at a broken radar array, got lost. We're to retrieve them, simple as that."
An entire squad for the simple retrieval of a bunch of aimless engineers? Squad four consisted of a variety of men, from many different corners of life, under many different backgrounds and the stories that accompanied them. It was through the wonders of military discipline that such a group of different sorts was able to successfully operate, yet at that moment, no matter if a farmer or a veteran, they all thought the same thing.
'Shit…'
/
The snaps of branches and shuffling of pine needles filled the eerily silent woods as squad four made their way through the thick darkness with nothing but their large barrel-mounted flashlights to show the way. Sergeant Hermann lead the way with the rest of the team in a tight column at his back, Stefan being directly behind him as the second highest-ranking individual within the squad.
Though at the clearing where the infantry fighting vehicles were parked the air was uncomfortably damp, deep in the forest it was practically tangible, finding it's way inside your throat and refusing to flow out with exhales. What was a steadily worsening mood among the man now peaked in the negatives, why of all the four squads in the platoon were they the ones chosen on this damned meaningless search and rescue? Their complaints however, the soldiers kept quiet.
"We aren't lost, are we?" Stefan rasped in a whisper, leaning towards his commander. He had the question in his subconscious for a while now, but only now did he gather enough strength to ask it, after almost thirty minutes of walking.
Hermann did not answer, cut off by voices coming off from the back of the column. He raised his hand and with a single movement the entire squad stopped in place. He did not have to ask before an explanation arrived.
"Olaf keeps claiming he hears sounds behind us, Unteroffizier. I tried to convince him that we're inside a rural area and that animals are bound to be around, especially at night, but he seems to be convinced." Michael spoke up in a louder than usual whisper, so that the Sergeant could heard him.
"And why is Olaf not speaking for himself?" Asked Hermann.
"Well…" Michael answered rather quickly, "He is really convinced."
Finally allowing a stroke of anger to flow through him, Hermann threw the strap of the Gewehr over his shoulder so that he could use his arms to explain just how much this was a waste of time.
"Listen up, we we're supposed to clear this hill ten minutes ago. Due to the nature of the situation and the time of day, it is understandable to be late but I am not about to stumble around these fucking woods until the sun rises because of your uncontrollable paranoia."
"Sir…"
"What?!"
"Sir there really is something there… I can see it moving.
S- Sir…?"
After hearing a thud, the entire squad turned to the front of the column only to see the body of Hermann lying lifeless on the dirt. They barely processed what was going on, let alone had time to squeal before being hit by the stampede of silenced lead, ripping through anything standing in it's way, wood or man alike. Not a single man was shot once, each caught several bullets to just about every body part. Within seconds squad four was completely slaughtered on the spot, not a trace of it left but shredded corpses, their uniforms intermingled with flesh and bone, their weapons still with the safety turned on.
/
Trees rustled, piles of brush and scrub moved. In the matter of moments four distinct figures stood among the dead. Their faces covered with masks, their heads with hoods. Each held a specialized assault rifle, designed and built in the Soviet Union specifically for these types of operations. Judging from the amount of bodies, they seemed to work exceptionally well…
"We're clear." The deep, precise voice of one of the figures cut through the silence like a heated knife through butter, and as if his automatons, the other three men lowered their rifles instantaneously.
"Shit… They dropped like flies." A different man spoke up, not bothering to whisper. He walked between the corpses towards the others, his head tilted down as if he was looking at each one of his kills, counting.
"You know, in my old village, where I grew up in, they considered the Spetsnaz an urban legend, used to call them walking, barely talking mobile artillery. I'm inclined to believe them now, because this is some good fucking effect on target…"
"Shut your mouths, and show some god-damn respect." The same authoritative voice from before barked, "these men died for the same thing you are fighting for, just under a different flag. We're lucky if we don't end up like this ourselves."
"No offense comrade commander, but luck is just something I don't believe in. Was my own two hands that did this, and going to be the same hands that take me out of trouble."
"Keep that notion going, we'll see how long you'll live. Tough guy."
It was hard to distinguish anything in the foggy darkness, but these men knew each other so well that they could recognize one another by breathing alone.
"So, what are we doing with the bodies?"
"Leave them. We've no time to waste, there's a war out there, waiting just for us to start it…"
With that, the four disappeared quick as they appeared. Truth be told, they had gone over this operation so many times that they moved almost on muscle-memory alone, but that won't be the entirety of it. Skill, luck, determination, will. All of it was going to come in useful for what these men war about to do.
/
- Well, here goes my first attempt at writing something besides your usual posts on roleplays. Decided to start familiar and do something military related, was reading a Cold War era book so I went for that, honestly just picked World at Conflict to have something to categorize this under. Gives me little hope that anyone would actually find this but if you do, I appreciate you taking your time to read this small piece of amateur work. Feel free to tell me how unrealistic or in turn too realistic and boring all of this is. I'll only really get better through criticism. I apologize for any formatting issues, I'm still complete shit at this entire thing. This is supposed to be split into scenes, so if it isn't then I fucked up somewhere. -