Operation: Road Rage
June 6th, 2017
LCpl. Mark "Hotshot" Greenfield
1st Marines, Bravo Company, Alpha Squad
East Coast, United States of America
0530 Hours
I was sleeping in my bunk when the alarm rang, blaring loudly as multiple units scrambled to their posts. I was under the command of Staff Sergeant Knox from the 1st Marines. We were tasked to defend two bases in the East Coast. Unknown to us when the Middle Eastern Coalition would strike, we were placed on stand-by until further noticed. The 7th and 11th Marines were fielded to the Middle East in an effort to establish a foothold in the region and launch strikes against the MEC. So far, they were having trouble pushing in from Oman.
"Hotshot, grab your gear and meet up at the vehicle depot!" My friend Chris Horn yelled as the base buzzed with activity.
Grabbing my vest and helmet, I strapped the two on before running outside with my rifle. I was the team's grenadier or assault role. Bearing the newly fielded SCAR-H and its under barrel grenade launcher, the EGLM, I was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Running out of our squad tent, I looked around frantically for my squad in the mist of running men and moving vehicles. A giant concrete building filled with vehicles caught my eye as I spotted my Humvee in the mix of Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicles and M1A1 Abrams Main Battle Tanks. Running forward, I skidded to a stop as a fast moving Humvee nearly splattered me into the dirt ground. Dodging the massive amount of vehicle traffic, I finally got to my vehicle. The Humvee was a rugged utility vehicle built to outlast small arms fire with its up-armored variant, but not a tank round or an anti-tank missile.
"Hotshot, reporting for duty!" I reported, yelling above the sounds of engines and rotor blades.
"Where the fuck were you Lance? I would have stepped off without you!" Sergeant Knox screamed into my ear as the three members of my team checked their weapons.
Chris Horn was an engineer carrying the standard issue M870 Modular Combat Shotgun. Being of a slim build he was able to run faster than most of the team and get to where he was needed. Mitchell York was six feet tall and wore the same gear as we did. Even though he carried the M24 Sniper Rifle, he was out team's designated marksmen and was one of the stealthiest man I know despite his height. Nick Turner was out team's medic and was equipped the eleven kilogram M240B. His weapon reflected the man, standing at five feet and nine inches tall and built with muscle he was one to be feared when angered. Then there was Sergeant Knox our small squad leader. Sergeant Knox was of African-American descent and was one badass. Standing in at five feet and six inches tall, he was the smallest in the squad but also the most respected. His weapon was the M16A4 customized with a reflex sight for close in combat and when that failed him has his tried and tested M1911 that saved his life on many occasions.
"I'm sorry Sarge. I was getting some shut eye in the tent!" I yelled as response as he shook his head.
"Get your sorry ass in the backseat! Horn, you have the pleasure of taking Greenfield's place in the driver's seat! Do not disappoint me!" Sergeant Knox ordered as the team crammed into the tiny Humvee.
"Yes, Staff Sergeant!" Chris yelled confidently as I closed the heavy door of the two and a half ton up-armored Humvee.
"What's the SITREP, Sergeant?" York asked as Chris eased the Humvee onto the MSR leading out of the giant base.
"Lieutenant's tell me that we got motion spikes across the East Coast, unknown if it's the Russians, Chinese or MEC. All I know is, we have someone to kill!" Sergeant Knox yelled out as a pair of A-10C Thunderbolt II soared overhead, their giant non-afterburner engines buzzing.
Turning right onto a highway, Chris accelerated into the traffic of military vehicles streaming out towards the peak of the East Coast and the ocean. Looking out the window, I saw the green grass gently flowing in the wind as military vehicles filled every street within the area. Civilians were evacuated weeks ago to shelters protected by the Army and Homeland Security. With limited manpower, the Marines were going to make the impossible happen. Lost in thought, a ground attack Su-25 Frogfoot flew overhead. Two small, black teardrops dropped from its fuselage and accelerated towards the ground getting bigger by the second.
"Incoming!" I yelled as Sergeant Knox looked out his window.
"Get this fucking Humvee off the road!" Sergeant Knox ordered as Chris jerked the Humvee left and down onto the dirt, accelerating down the hill.
The two Russian made bombs exploded a second later. A bright flash of orange and yellow blinded me as the shockwave drove shrapnel and our Humvee into a tumble off the road. I heard pings and cracks as small pieces of metal impacted the steel skin of the Humvee. I felt the Humvee bounce, my body taken along for the ride as it flipped rolling in midair. I didn't know what happened but we were right side up again, the Humvee skidding to a stop as my stomach lurched. Opening the door, I puked onto the green grass staining it with a mixture of colors from the meal I just ate a few hours ago.
"Everyone okay?" Turner asked as everyone affirmed except me.
"Greenfield?" He asked as I gave him a thumbs-up and finished my small puke.
"Sergeant, we're good to go." Turner reported as I closed the door and pulled out a small canteen to wash my face and drink.
"Rawhide Two-Three, Rawhide Two-Three, Rawhide Actual." The radio sparked to life in my ear as I rested my head against the metal, exhausted.
"Rawhide Two-Three, send over." Sergeant Knox stated as Chris attempted to start the engine.
"Rawhide Two-Three, mission incoming, wait out for details over." The command of our company stated as Chris was still at it.
"Roger that Rawhide Actual, over." Sergeant Knox responded as I looked over to Chris.
"Get this thing started, I don't want to be a sitting duck for some fucking jet passing by." Sergeant Knox grumbled as Chris got out of the Humvee.
"Sarge, the engine's been punctured." Chris stated as the whole team got out except for York who was manning the M2 Browning Machine mounted on the top of the Humvee.
"By what?" Sergeant Knox asked as Chris pointed behind us.
"That." He stated ominously as I looked back at the result of the bomb.
A giant crater was made in the center of the MSR. Two transport trucks, a Bradley and an M1A1 Abrams were taken out, their wreckage still on the highway, broken. Men and women were lying down in the dirt and asphalt bleeding out. Some were luckier than others, only having shrapnel caught in their vest while others had legs blown off or limbs. Those that lived will survive to become handicaps in the world of tomorrow. The sounds of moaning were never soothing to the ear as medics attended as best as they can to the injured. The men and women in battle fatigues with Red Cross on their arms running from patient to patient as I heard a ping behind me.
"Sniper!" Chris yelled as I ducked, running behind the Humvee for cover.
"York, get off that M2!" I yelled as he threw his sniper rifle ahead of him and then proceeded to somersault face first into the ground.
"Ow, it played out better in my head." He grunted as another bullet struck the Humvee.
"Anyone see muzzle flash?" Turner asked as I looked through the passenger window of the Humvee.
"Negative." Chris whispered as I saw a flash of yellow, before the bullet cracked the ballistic glass.
"Three hundred meters on the road leading into the highway, the sniper's using the bottom slot of the rails to gain the advantage over us." I whispered to York as he skirted to the back of the Humvee, pressing his left hand against the Humvee and the rifle.
"I need a dope on the wind." York whispered as his breathing slowing down as I pulled out my binoculars looking for any indication of flag.
"Got something, estimated windage around four knots from right to left." I reported as York exhaled slowly, the sniper firing another round at me.
"Rawhide Two-Three, this is Rawhide Actual, over." The radio squawked as I heard a crack from York's rifle and the mist of red from the sniper's body.
"Hit." I stated, stowing away the binoculars and pulling out my SCAR.
"Rawhide Two-Three, send over." Sergeant Knox stated as Turner went to the front of the Humvee and popped open the hood.
"Mission details are as followed, you are to assault vehicle depot northwest of our position. We believe that the MEC have rounded civilians who have refused to leave their homes and prisoners from the lead unit striking the tip of the east coast, over." Rawhide Actual explained as I looked at the guys.
"Interrogative, do we have any support, over?" Sergeant Knox asked as a pair of Su-25s soared overhead.
"Affirmative, we have two supporting Marine assault squads enroute to the AO, Callsign Papa Bear Six-Three and Kilo Nine-One. A squad of Bradleys are on stand-by five hundred meters from the area to provide supporting fire and extraction for the personnel and civilians, over." Rawhide Actual continued as another bomb went off in the distance, my body flinching from reflex.
"Interrogative, do we have any air, over?" Sergeant Knox asked as his voice got tense.
"Negative Rawhide Two-Three, no air support as of this time, over." Rawhide Actual replied after a brief pause.
"Roger that, Rawhide Actual. Rawhide Two-Three, out." Sergeant Knox finished as we gathered around him.
"Alright, listen up." Sergeant Knox stated as he pulled out a plastic map, placing it on the ground as Turner worked on the Humvee engine.
"This is us right here." Sergeant Knox explained as his fingers circled a patch of green right of the highway.
"This is our objective, one klick away from us. We have to assault this place by…" Sergeant Knox paused, pulling his shirt sleeve and looking at this watch.
"…0600 Hours, which is thirty minutes from now. We need to cover one klick with or without the Humvee. Think you dickless motherfuckers are going to make it?" Sergeant Knox asked as we chuckled.
"We're Marines, Sarge. We make the impossible happen." I stated as Sergeant Knox grinned, standing up and folding his map.
"That's the best fucking thing I heard out of your mouth today, Lance. You assholes think we can make this deadline?" Sergeant Knox asked the other guys as the chuckled once more.
"Hoorah! We're fucking Marines, we make the impossible happen!" They yelled back as Sergeant Knox nodded, satisfied.
"We might graduate from latrine cleaners and spineless creatures to Marines yet, Turner that thing able to work?" Sergeant Knox asked as the medic pulled out his oil filled hands from the engine compartment.
"Sarge, if it was able to work at this rate would be like trying to resurrect a dead body." Turner replied defeated as Sergeant Knox turned to Chris.
"Horn, got any ideas?" He asked my friend as he shrugged.
"If Turner says it's dead, it is Sarge." Chris replied as Sergeant Knox nodded.
"We're humping it then. Grab your gear and move out in formation. Combat spread, five meters apart and speed is a priority, kill?" Sergeant Knox asked as I grabbed my assault pack full of ammo and supplies from the Humvee.
"Copy that, Staff Sergeant." I replied as everyone shrugged on their packs, crouched behind the Humvee.
"Well okay then, let's move out." Sergeant Knox said as he ran out from the Humvee, setting the pace for us to follow.
I brought up Sergeant Knox's right as Chris flanked my right. Our boots impacting the ground covered with grass as helicopters and jets soared overhead, battling it out in the skies. Sergeant Knox sprinted for the forest ahead of us as MEC troops took aim, firing their AK-47s at our feet. Bullets peppered the ground as adrenaline filled my system, carrying me further and farther than I expected with twenty kilograms worth of gear on my back and arms. Entering the embrace of the forest occupied by table mountain pines obscuring the opposition from us as we settled into the grueling pace set by the Staff Sergeant as night turned into day. The sun poking through the horizon as the first rays of light lit up the forest. This was going to be one long day.