Chapter 2
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Date: April 26th, 2013. 1630 hours.
Position: Talil village (34° 51′ 35.20″ N, 36° 34′ 25.00″ E), Homs province, Syria.
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Cursing, John knelt down by the bodies lying haphazardly where they had fallen, the wall behind them blood smeared and riddled with bullets. Machine guns. Definitely more than one. Close range shots, no weapons on the dead men. And no other victims up and down the dusty village crossroads. Execution.
John rose again, his helmet and combat gear barely protecting him against the brutal sun in the steppe, when his headset with their Personal Role Radio clicked and rustled with static.
"… Shit, Captain. There are more of them. *static* … Kids and women, fucking shit!" came Corporal Rob Brian's voice through the intercom. The experienced soldier and his partner Lance Corporal Garrett Jordan had entered the building next to them, while the rest of his unit searched the streets and secured the immediate surrounding area.
Lifting his L115A3 rifle, John motioned Remmy to follow him to the run-down houses.
"Check for survivors and possible hiding spots. Split up, we need to get this done quickly. The bastards might still be nearby. Remmy and I are taking the centre area," John ordered into the mike while moving.
"Yes, Sir."
Having been together with his team for the past few months, he was able to rely on every single one of them, each soldier comfortably established in their respective roles and sub-teams. Over time, they had almost automatically fallen into some form of group intern action pattern with Sergeant Lilly Russ as his second in command. In situations like these she was head of sub-team Beta, accompanied by Lt Hadan and LC William Fontaig. Gamma were Brian and Jordan, the later a promising sharp-shooter with good aim who John trained in between raids and patrols whenever they had time to spare.
John and his radio operator carefully approached the house opposite of them. The entrance way was locked, so John stood right before it, aiming at the still blocked corridor he knew would lie behind and waited for Remmy to kick in the door, ready to fire in the split of a sec at any attacker who might lurk in the darkness.
It crashed and smashed against the wall, John lined up-
Clear.
He stepped in first, pressing his back to the wall near the opening leading to the next room, Remmy right behind him. Concentrating, listening for the smallest noise inside or further down the hallway. Silence.
His heart beat strong in his chest, mind running on instinct and extensive experience alone now as John's grip on his weapon tightened.
With a short intake of breath he pushed himself away from the wall, whirled around and aimed his weapon at the inside of the room.
Shit.
Experience- fine. But nothing could have prepared him for this. Not even the battlefields of London.
Shit.
It was a whole family.
A helpless family in the middle of preparing dinner.
They had been slaughtered; there really was no other term for it. Remmy, who had come in behind him for securing the left hand side, let out a string of helpless foul words and tumbled backwards-
"- NOT back to the hallway!" John hissed, as he realised what Remmy's reflex to flee the horror was about to do to the young soldier.
Remmy stumbled once, found his balance again and stayed still. "No, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
John nodded. Then he stepped past him and carefully went down the hallway to make sure the area at the end of the narrow corridor was clear, checking for booby traps on his way. It was the only other room in the house: a living room that simultaneously served as the sleeping quarters. Thankfully, there were no other bodies in there.
Back in the kitchen, he closed his eyes and tried to prepare himself for the awful task at hand.
Lowering the rifle, he stepped up to the first pair of corpses. A woman, barely older than a child herself, cradled an infant in her arms, trying to shield it with her body even in death. Her brain was splattered against the wall behind her. Next to them was a boy, his fists gripping his mother's Thob dress and loosened Shambar in panic, mouth open in a silent scream. Shot at point blank.
John knelt down to the baby, feeling for a pulse although its lips were blue, its skin cold. None. Carefully opening the tiny eyelids, he found his assumption confirmed. Suffocated. That took time and effort- the little one probably hadn't been able to stop crying in its fear, triggering the rage of the attackers.
John let out a hard breath through his nose, trying to calm himself. This was a shit fucking death hole.
He turned his head to Remmy, who still stood in the entrance to the room, blankly staring at the opposite wall. John checked him over from the small distance between them for severe signs of shock, but couldn't see any. Get moving again was best, then.
"Lance Corporal, check for a pulse on the ones to your right."
No reaction.
"Remmy!"
He snapped back to attention at that, startled, "Yes, Sir!"
John turned back and slowly made his way over to the next body. An old woman lying sprawled out on the floor amongst strewn about vegetables and pans. Her hands were splayed in defence above her chest, knife wounds all over her palms and torso, no pulse.
Flies were already beginning to buzz through the heated air in the room.
He had fruitlessly checked for pulses on two more bodies- young women again, stabbed- when Remmy declared the old couple leaning against the front wall dead as well. Standing up, the younger man looked pale but focused again. Good.
Back out on the street they began moving through each building at the crossroad, now and then getting a quick status report from sub-teams Beta on the far south end of the village and Gamma, who were checking the north side. Always getting the same results: No survivors.
They were almost done with their share and joining Russ' group again, when suddenly an earthshaking BANG filled the air, throwing them forcefully to the ground.
A grenade exploded three houses next to them. Only seconds later another, even closer. Making the vibrations thunder through John's head.
Rubble and debris rained down on him and his comrades, sandy dust biting their eyes as they pushed to their feet again and hurried for cover.
"Fucking shit," John swore under his breath, ducking behind a narrow pile of rocks. Over the PRR, he contacted the sub-team assumingly farthest away from the centre, "Brian, anything on the radar?"
"… *static* …"
The sounds of machine guns pierced the air, echoing in the small streets. John saw Remmy and Hadan covering behind an old bullock cart trying to assess where the shots were coming from.
"Brian! Status!" John yelled.
"… *static*"
"BRIAN!"
Another barrage of gunfire whistled over their heads. Shit. John ducked down again, carefully twisting behind the rocks to get the street and surrounding buildings into view. They had to get out of here.
Then came the answering sound of the British assault rifles from north, before-
"… *static* We're here, Captain. *static* Fuck, one freakin' bullet got Brian across the leg. He says he's good for now, though."
Thank God. "What's your position?"
Gunfire.
"Inside house 15 metres north the execution wall. Bastards are heading south, coming your way, Captain."
"Can you see how many?"
"*static*… Half a dozen heading down. About four or five still covering opposite us behind a window. *muffled voice in the background* At least one of them on the rooftops across. Two neutralised by now. Over."
Calculating the distance between the third group of his team and themselves, John assumed that some attackers had started nearer the centre of the village, being far too close for them to be the bastards with Brian and Jordan. That made at least another four for the enemy troop.
A single gunshot grazed the top rock on the pile John was covering behind- Sharp shooters. Great.
Well, in for a penny.
John shuffled, twisted slightly back again and peered past the rocks towards the rooftops. The shot had been lined up on a lower range and smaller angle than most- 100m at best. John scanned possible hiding places suitable for lining up an almost exact short distance shot.
The next bullet grazed his head just above the ear, but it also uncovered the shooter, a dark shadow peering over the narrow balustrade of a house further up the road. John lined up, focused and pulled the trigger.
The shadow fell, hitting the ground with force.
John took a deep steadying breath. Pushing old memories rigorously to the back of his head.
His team fired again, an attacker directly opposite them fell where he'd hid behind a broken window. One man next to the ruin of the exploded house followed suit, slumping to the ground.
The flashing light reflections of a sniper's optical sight at the far end of the road which they were currently on made John target its origin. Good job that he had refused the new Sharpshooter when this tour had begun; He'd rather relied on his proven Long Range Rifle which had helped him in Helmand already and of which he knew every single bump and quirk. He adjusted the sight with a few quick twists and, ducking away from a new round of gunshots from across the street, spotted the sniper, lined up, shot-
And hit.
Another shooter covering behind the corner of a house a few meters away shot again. Wood was splintering and Hadan's agonising scream pierced the battleground.
XXX
