The Battle of Anchorage
PROLOUGE
Anchorage was, theoretically, a treasure for military commanders.
It was more or less impervious to land assault, and allowed access
into the Gulf of Alaska and the Bering Sea. From the Bering Sea, one could access all of the small islands leading out of Alaska. These islands were prime locations for military staging areas against the Chinese.
That's probably why nearly the entire American military force within
almost 100 miles had been rushed there when Chinese forces had been spotted in the region. One of the squads that had been sent to the city(well, near it) was T51-B Squadron 128-864C of the
41st Heavy Ranger Battalion. The squad consisted of five members-Adam, the leader of 864C, was the sort of person who made it hard to tell if he had a sense of humor. Marcus, the heavy weapons specialist, was the guinea pig and pack mule, but everyone else knew that he was essential to the team. Sam, the fastest in the squad(although with the T51-B, speed isn't exactly something to take for granted), was the team's scout. She also specialized in hand-to-hand combat. Jacob was the demolitions expert, who didn't say much.
And then, there was Isaac. He was probably the most hated member of the squad. Whenever something went wrong, it was blamed on him. Of course, that was because it generally was his fault. He rambled on constantly about how the squad depended on him, and when he wasn't rambling, he was complaining-about the Chinese, the weather, or some other thing that he felt made his life miserable.
Ignoring Isaac, the squad functioned well. They generally got the job done, although the "job" sometimes wasn't their mission.
When the squad had received orders head to Anchorage, Adam knew that telling his squad was going to make them pissed. That, or they wouldn't care at all.
"We're going to Anchorage."
The squad was silent, not really really listening to what Adam was saying.
"No. Seriously. We're going. Truck. Now."
The squad still didn't move. But Adam knew what to do. They just needed a bit of "motivation".
He went up to Marcus and gave him a kick to the groin. No one in the squad was wearing their T51-B, so it sure got the point across. Marcus did his best to tough it up, and the rest of the squad headed for the nearest truck.
Isaac then began his ranting and rambling, not that anyone could understand him. But that could never stop Isaac. He just went on, and on, and on.
And then, about five miles out, the shells hit.