Author Note (AN): What's up guys? This is my first Halo fic, and I really hope I get round to doing a few good chapters. I would like to thank Lt. Garry's fic "The Battle of Sigma Octanus IV" and several others for inspiring me to write this. I do not own Halo or any thing inside of it. Only PO Croft and other OCs. Have fun reading, and reviews are always welcomed!
0501 Hours, February 3, 2525. Fort Abraham, Planet of Harvest. "The Beginning of the Human-Covenant War; The Battle of Harvest"
The bitter wind that had suddenly picked up bit into my face. The cloth cape that the UNSC had given us wasn't doing any good shielding us from the cold. My head was bent down, arms cross over my legs with my assault rifle leaning against the snowy wall of my foxhole. The cold had disabled my senses to a level where I couldn't hear someone sliding into the large hole. The figure walked over to me, discarding my face and everything else to look at my right arm.
He touched the small insignia of a red cross and backed up. I looked upward, administering who it was. From the lack of light I couldn't figure out who it was, but he was tall and stocky, which could only be one person.
"Eltee?" I muttered, my voice just loud enough for him to hear. As if on cue, Lieutenant Walsh switched the flashlight on his rifle on, shining it in my face. "What is it, sir?"
Walsh seemed to stand straight again, keeping his flashlight on. "Second battalion is getting pounded up front. General Walker has ordered all available medics in the fifty mile radius to roll out." My expression faltered. I was excited to experience what I had signed up for, but not in weather like this, where the cold had beaten my body to a pulp. "Get suited up Croft, you're heading out."
Walsh then climbed out of my foxhole, leaving me to the harsh weather once more. It took a while for my brain to register the Lieutenant's orders, but I stood up, exposing my upper body to the icy wind. I bent down quickly, grabbing my rifle and my bag of supplies. It was reasonably heavy since I hadn't been called for duty since I was shipped here. Hopefully it would empty soon.
As I stepped out of my hole I noticed that a whole convoy of vehicles had rolled in to Fort Abraham; Scorpions, Warthogs and Mongooses slowly moved down the dirt track carved out by the platoon when we had arrived. I walked slowly toward the makeshift road, waiting for someone to call my name. A few vehicles passed as I stood with my rifle clutched to my chest, and finally someone shouted for me.
"Petty Officer Croft! Echo Company, Third Platoon! Fall in!" An unfamiliar voice called out. I registered the source of the voice had come from a nearby Warthog, which had slowed down when I lifted an arm. The man spoke up once more. "Alright Doc, in ya come."
A large hand gripped mine and lifted me into the passenger seat. The driver resumed his seat behind the wheel and started the engine up once more. The soldier manning the 30. cal stepped down from his position, handing me a green balaclava. It was like a gift from the heavens, something to shield my ears from the cold, and the rest of my face for that matter. I lifted my green helmet off my head and placed it on the dashboard, taking the balaclava and slipping it over my head.
"Word from the top is that nearly all of second battalion are wiped off this planet. The Covvies have bombarded the front for a good few hours now, and the call for all the medics are real desperate." The driver turned off the dirt road, following the rest of the convoy through the forest formed around Fort Abraham. I put my helmet on, getting ready to reply, but the driver spoke again. "I'm Corporal Jackson, Delta Company. I'll be driving you to the frontlines, so fix that helmet on tight. It's gonna be a bumpy ride."
He was too right. Only a few miles out of the base the front of the convoy had come under fire. Immediately the 30. cal behind me opened fire on small purple ships in the sky. I didn't know what these were, but a yell from the Warthog confirmed the name. There were three Banshees, one on a strafing run above the middle of the convoy, where we were.
Suddenly a muffled voice erupted from my COM. Tapping my helmet, I opened the channel and waited for the distorted voice again. "This is Petty Officer Croft. Could you repeat that?"
There was silence on the COM, but the Banshees overhead lived up to their name and screeched towards us. Thinking it would do some good, I unloaded my MA5B on the oncoming Banshee. My bullets pinged off of the ship's hull, but was quickly reinforced by the 30. cal behind and soon smoke was trailing from the right wing.
"Croft!" My eyes averted from the final Banshees to the Warthog's dashboard, listening intently to the clear voice. "This is Sergeant McCollough. We've been hit hard at the front. Take your Warthog and follow the rest of the convoy through the woodland. We'll catch up. Over."
"Roger that. Any casualties to report sir?" Jackson was on the channel as well and turned off the dirt track and onto another one, where the rest of the convoy were driving on. For a split second I saw the debris up front; a Scorpion had taken a direct hit and the turret was blown off. Two Warthogs were also upturned, with fire erupting from their bodies. I was still waiting for a reply.
"One KIA, poor bastard was in the tank. Over."
Well that was no good. We were one man down and we hadn't even reached the front. I muttered a simple "okay" and cut the COM. Jackson's face however remained optimistic, as if he was getting thrills from the attack.
"Nice shooting back there Porfirio." Jackson yelled back. The 30. cal manner Porfirio did a mock salute at Jackson and a quick nod at me. I turned to Jackson who was smiling. "How'd you like that then Doc? Just a taste, y'know. The front is ten times worse than that. You're gonna be a busy man."
"Yeah.." I looked down at my lap, as the adrenaline that had pumped my body left and was replaced by the icy winds once more. For everyone else, this was just a warm up but for me, the battle had already begun.