Chapter 1

Somewhere in Afghanistan

The place in Afghanistan spoken of was an American controlled camp. Plenty of people were told the camp's name but none could be bothered to remember the name of said camp. There were people of Afghanistan being trained at this camp so they could take over from the Americans and the British. Which sounds good, the truth was that if the majority of the training Afghans were being taught by people with fighting skills on par with Sgt Foley (aka Sarge), who happened to be training the men at this camp would result in Having an Army could be destroyed by Switzerland and we all know that Switzerland do fuck all when it comes to war (that is why I like Switzerland, they have the gift of common-fucking-sense).

Anyway, we are not currently seeing the events through Sarge's eyes nor will we ever (partially because Sarge's perspective is thoroughly fucked up with Leprechauns and shit like that) instead we currently follow Private Allen. Allen is a man with the intellect of the average three year old and the attention span of a dead Goldfish. Allen splits his day into four different pieces: sleeping time, eating time, alone time and together time.

He had just finished alone time when some unknown soldier (an extra) said that Sarge wanted him urgently. Allen was slightly annoyed because this time was not together time but eating time. However, when Allen found Sarge he had completely forgotten about what time of the day it was (or what day it was). He found Sarge 'training' some of the Afghan volunteers. When Sarge noticed Allen next to him he said to the trainees " Private Allen will now show you the basics of shooting. You do not ever crouch while shooting - it makes you lose shit loads of accuracy, you also do not aim down the sights, it is better to fire from the hip." The group of trainees gave Sarge a strange look while Sarge continued "Private Allen, show the men how not to shoot. Crouch and aim down the sight while firing," Allen crouched behind a pile of sandbags and looked down his sight before firing into the air above him. "Uuuuumm, Private Allen? You need to shoot at the targets in front of you," Sarge informed Allen.

"Ooohhhh. Right. I can do that," Allen replied.

Fifteen minutes later Sarge decided to stop the shooting practise after he realised that the only working guns were Sarge's and Allen's and neither wanted to share. Despite this fact, the training session was a success because only one person was killed - a record. That unlucky soul was an extra who was struck in the head by a random bullet (the bullet was the one Allen fired in to the air). Another extra found Allen and told him that Corporal Dunn needed him. Something to do with an training/obstacle course. Allen was now spending sleeping time like it was together time. In the Private's eyes this was unforgivable.

Two minutes later Allen found one Corporal Dunn waiting for him just outside a obstacle course. The puff Corporal was holding a wooden gun and looking nervous. In action Dunn was only capable of running around shouting about how everyone was going to die. Despite this Sarge thought very highly of Dunn. Anyway, Allen was told that he was to go around the obstacle course and shoot all the targets.

Fifteen minutes later

Allen shot the last target with a time of 13:49.31. About half the time of Sarge (which made it a squad record) Allen was then supposed to join the other troops that were going to assault a city. Instead Allen collapsed and started making up for time he missed during sleeping time.

Four hours later

Allen was woken by another extra and was told to find General Shephard. Allen did not manage to find it by asking directions because the only people around were the Afghan new recruits so the Private spent what felt like hours wandering around aimlessly before General Shephard found him. The old General was tailed by at least a dozen sheep. Shephard told Allen to follow him to his office. When they got there Allen was invited to take a woollen seat and the long and in Shephard's case painful conversation began.

"Private Allen, you have been chosen to be promoted to a squad called Task Force 159-" A sheep baaed. "Oh that's right Michael, no longer 159 now it is called Task Force 141. Shame what happened to the last one," Shephard shuddered at the memory.

"Anyway I am legally obliged to ask if you have any questions to ask,"

"Is anyone else in the Task thing?"

"Yes, they are currently some country's mountains. Don't ask me what they are doing - I have no idea,"

Allen had in fact ignored the answer to his question and instead attempted to ride one of Shephard's sheep (Gregg).

"Jesus Christ," whispered a clearly exacerbated Shephard.