MDAM- Hey guys, this is a rewrite of the initial chapter because, to be fair, it was shit. So here we have a new Prologue of sorts. Don't Worry I plan a new chapter on Sunday (It would be dickish if I didn't).

-MDAM out

C1: War

1050 Hours, April 9, 2010 (Military Calendar / Afghanistan, Helmand Province, Baghran, Weelia da Jadida Village.

"Warning, Terrain. Pull up. Terrain. Pull up." The speakers blared in the cockpit of the C-130 Hercules. At the wheel was a Squadron Leader. He wore full two colour desert DPM fatigues under his tan combat webbing; he wore a helmet with the same camouflage and a night vision visor. He had black hair and had brown eyes; those eyes were currently looking straight in front towards the valley.

He had little in the way of altitude, altitude that was falling, the squadron leaders current estimates showed that he was heading straight into the centre of a village. The GPS called it Weelia da Jadida, a small village nestled between the Afghan hillsides, at the bottom of a valley where a small river ran. The sky was blue that day, and the air was clear, perfect to see, and for others to see you. It was only five minuets prior that the planes pilot was shot in the head and the head and the co-pilot was shot in the chest. Luckily he kept control long enough for the squadron leader to get up in time, only then to pass out at the controls due to blood loss.

This C-130 had been on a resupply mission to a small base when they came under fire from the Taliban, the plane carried two Scimitar tanks, a Stormer air defence vehicle, four Javelin Rocket Launchers with ammo, two Heckler and Koch 40 mm machine gun, five 81mm mortars, five L7A2 General purpose machine guns, two L115A3 Long-Range rifles and a dozen SA80 A2s fitted with under slung Grenade Launchers and holographic sights, also enough PE-4 to create a lake. They had enough equipment to create a small army.

In the aircraft with him was Sargent Ivy Lee, a soldier that had a love for blowing things up; she had an oriental complexion with jet-black hair and brown eyes. There was also Flying Officer David Macintosh, A scots man with black hair and emerald green eyes, his complexion was white as December snow, he was the member of the group that liked his CQC. Thirdly there was Flight Sargent Gwen Jones, she was welsh and had Hazel hair with pale ghost like eyes, she had red hair and was the always carried her L115A3 is she was permitted. The final member of the team was Pilot Officer Peter O'Riley, he was from Northern Ireland, he had Light brown hair and had Ocean blue eyes, he preferred a the infantry standard SA80, always on single shot for accuracy.

Ivy made her way upstairs towards the cockpit; she shouted out in an upper class English voice, "Sir what are we supposed to do. "Her eyes glaring into the back of the squadron leaders head."

"Sit down, Sargent, We are in for a bumpy landing." He replied in a Scottish voice with a twinge of English in it.

"Sir" she said in an agreeing tone, saluting. She turned about and made for the others.

"Strap in boys, the party is about to begin." She smiled

The plane came flying over the small village, the under carriage nipping the top of a couple buildings. "Coming in for a hard handing, dumping last of the fuel to reduce the risk an explosion." He said out loud. Then there was a pump, then another, then another, each more closely spaced together, until it became a rumble. "Reversing feathering for landing." This would have the desired effect of reverse thrust. After a moment there was a lurch as the plane came to a stop. The Squadron leader grabbed the microphone and spoke. "Load as much as you can on those vehicles, Ivy use set up some PE-4 on the plane as a little surprise. I'll be down in a second."

The Squadron Leader twisted and tuned the radio to an encrypted frequency. "Bravo Hotel Quebec this is Squadron leader James Anders, Call sign Sierra Golf Seven, requesting evac, ASAP would be preferred, possible Tangos inbound, request a Chinook with Apache escort, over."

"We read you Sierra Golf Seven, request granted, position over?"

"X-ray Two Seven Niner Yankee Four Six Zero, over"

"Orders sent, ETA one and a half hours, mark landing spot with phosphorous flares. Good hunting, Bravo Hotel Quebec Out."

And that was that, Squadron Leader James Anders walked out of the cockpit, grabbing his SA80 GL HS on the way out. He walked into the cargo hold, all of the vehicles loaded and PE-4 placed. The sergeant was on top of one of the Scimitars and was waving him over. "Your driving sir." She said. "I hope you can drive better than flying a plane." She smirked.

James got in the front, and started the engine. Macintosh, with O'Riley on the gun, drove the other Scimitar; Gwen drove the Stormer. The cargo doors were open and the three vehicles flew out, the two Scimitars protected the front and rear of the Stormer. They headed straight for the village.

The people were obviously surprised by their sudden arrival. They parked in the middle of the village in a triangle formation. James took a step out the car, and an old man in a singe piece garb came forward and said. "You Americana yes? You here to help? Taliban have raided, yes, we need help."

I didn't plan for such a welcome reception. James thought. Maybe they could help with the incoming fight. Then he spoke up. Pointing to him self. "Me, no American, I, James, British, yes?" He nodded and so did the old man. "We help each other, yes?" he said pointing between the old man and himself. The man grabbed his hand.

"Thank, you, James." He said with a thankful smile. "How we help each other?"

James nodded towards David who opened the side of Stormer, inside were guns. He turned back to the old man. "Guns. Give to every healthy man, and healthy woman." He paused, allowing the man to process the foreign language. "Keep, old, sick and the children inside. Today we fight." Then he turned to team. "Gwen, on top of that tower in a decent sniping position. Mac, Peter, on the guns. Ivy, place some boom at the entrances, then man the Stormer. I'll start handing out weapons."

And like that the weapons where handed out and a small militia of 30 men and 10 Woman was formed. They were quickly shown how to use the weapons and then suddenly a RPG hit the minaret of the local mosque. How very Islamic. James thought as he was running to cover. There was a burst of Kalashnikov fire and SA80 fire, with 5.56mm and 7.62x39 bullets penetrating the buildings, cars and people. Ivy launched a surface to air missile toward a large group of Taliban soldiers. This was a bit over kill as it was meant to take out armoured aircraft not humans without as little as a helmet. It was overkill. But still the Taliban pressured into the area pushing them far back into the central square, by then all of the Stormers rockets were dry and Ivy decided to use the javelin launchers instead.

There was a littering of brass casings around were Mac and Peter were firing as a continual stream of gold poured out of the chamber. They had been fighting for an hour, and expected a ride in ten minuets. The attackers were shouting out, cursing, calling us infidels and the villagers' heretics. Gwen was by James' side she traded her sniper rifle for a SA80 and was currently firing 40 mm grenades at her enemies. They kept pressing though. A field of dead bodies were around them, a sea of blood, on the Afghan sand.

Then they heard music to their ears, the sound of four rotating shafts of three aircraft, two Apaches and a Chinook came into view, machine guns rattling. As a red spray matted the walls as bullets cut through their enemies. The cargo bay opened and he instructed one of the younger lads to get the vulnerable and get them in the cargo bay. He saw a number of children and seniors get on the helicopter, he then instructed the local militia on. "Go I'll finish the job, your people will need you." A couple of moments later he turned to his team. "Guys get on the Chinook, I'll be right behind you." They hesitated. "That's an order." And like that they ran to the helicopter.

James grabbed a remote detonator and shoved the receiving end into the last of the PE-4 all 10 kilos of it, enough to take out a street. He grabbed he remote and ran for the Chinook, only to get shot in the back. He fell on the floor, his legs, he couldn't feel them his stomach felt suddenly full and the James puked. Blood was pouring out of his wound. FUCK, THIS IS PAINFUL. He tried to move his arm, it twitched and creped up. Good he thought

He was flipped around, a Taliban solider stood above him. "Now infidel you die." He said

James spoke up. "You first." He pressed the button.