September 10th, 2015
Stas regretted eating so much at Mrs. McKellar's. His stomach was pressed tight against his utility belt and grumbled loudly whenever he made the slightest movements. Sergeant Alexandr looked over the headrest of the passenger seat and smiled. "Sounds like someone got lucky with their quartering assignment." he said. Stas leaned back in the back seat of the GAZ-2975 and belched quietly to relive some of the pressure.
"Da." Stas said blushing a little. "I'm surprised the sergeant major hasn't invited any of you to dine with us."
The driver of the high mobility multi-purpose vehicle, Junior Sergeant Grigory Leontyev, chuckled quietly. He wasn't a man of many words but Efreitor Vladislav Kornilov, the vehicle's PKT gunner, was and said exactly what everyone else had on their mind. "That Chekist wouldn't blink unless the MVD told him to do so!" Efreitor Vladislav had to yell a little to overcome the rumble of the GAZ's engine. Even cruising along at a relatively slow forty miles an hour the diesel engine roared.
The radio suddenly squawked to life. An even voiced radio operator said, "Estovakian units urgently needed in the parking lot of Mae's Shopping Center on the corner of Parker and Wilson. Civil disturbance in front of the ration card depository. Unit on sight quickly losing control. All patrols able to respond confirm."
Sergeant Alexandr picked up the receiver and said, "Yastreb 2-7 able to respond. En route to location." He put the receiver down and checked to make sure a round was chambered in his AK. "Mae's is just two blocks down. Take a right here."
As Junior Sergeant Grigory spun the real Stas' stomach did flip flops. The nimble GAZ narrowly missed a fire hydrant and continued to speed down the street. Even inside the GAZ Stas could hear chanting further up ahead. "We got a problem!" Efreitor Vladislav shouted as the GAZ screeched to a halt. In the parking lot was a BMP-3 with some Elstravokian soldiers on top. A mob of Emmerians shouting 'Hell no! Rations must go!' surrounded them. Three other GAZs-2975s pulled up along with a GAZ Vodnik. The protestors paid them no mind as they continued their chant. Stas dismounted and joined Sergeant Alexandr by the hood. "There are at least seventy of them." Efreitor Vladislav said from behind the sights of the PKT. The soldiers stuck on top of the BMP-3 were trying to plead with the crowd to disperse to no avail. The dozen or so dismounted soldiers looked at the mob with unease. Things could get ugly fast.
A short officer with foxy features stood next to the Vodnik with megaphone in hand. The crowd finally stopped their chanting when the officer's voice boomed through the megaphone. "Citizens of Gracemeria, disperse immediately! This is your only warning!"
The mob was quiet for a moment. Suddenly one of the protestors yelled, "Go the fuck home Stovies!" The officer flinched like the insult had been a physical blow. He raised his hand to give the order to fire but he didn't get it up all the way. The Vodnik was tossed on its side as the manhole cover it was over exploded skywards. Shrapnel tore into the underside of the armoured truck creating a fireball that swallowed everything within fifteen feet. The officer and six Elstravokian soldiers disappeared in a wall of fire.
Stas ducked down just as all hell broke loose. Some of the dismounted soldiers opened fire on the mob. They scattered as bullets tore into their ranks. Stas even let off a few rounds reflexively but made sure to aim well above the crowd. Someone was yelling to cease fire and after a few seconds everyone did. Dead Emmerians lay in a broad semicircle unmoving. Some of the unwounded ones stayed to help behind the ones who were wounded while others flat out fled. Four Elstravokians bolted across the parking lot towards the burning Vodnik.
Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta. All four soldiers stumbled in mid-run and hit the ground. Stas threw himself behind the GAZ as bullets sparked off the vehicle's armour. "They're on the roof! They're on the roof!" Efreitor Vladislav yelled as he aimed the PKT and fired off a burst in reply. Stas propped his AKS-74 on the hood and started pumped off rounds at figures that popped up on the roof of the shopping center. The soldiers on top of the BMP-3 tried to scramble into the hatches but were each knocked down before they made it halfway in.
"It's a fuckin' ambush." Junior Sergeant Grigory snarled as he fired off half a magazine.
"That's the only thing these Emma's are go-" Efreitor Vladislav's words were cut short by a line of tracers that worked their way up the hood of the GAZ. He tried to swivel the PKT to face the new threat but it was too late. A bullet smacked into his neck and he disappeared in the confines of the vehicle.
"Stas, check on him! Get on that gun Grigory!" Sergeant Alexandr barked as he fired at fleeting targets that popped up in windows of an apartment building on the opposite corner of the shopping center. Stas was already in the motions of doing just that. He threw open the rear passenger door and nearly dropped his rifle. Efreitor Vladislav's limp body nearly tumbled out but Stas caught him in mid-fall. Stas' hands immediately became slick with blood as he awkwardly tried to push the body back in the GAZ. A chunk of Vladislav's neck was missing exposing a large pulsing blue vein and torn meat. Blood fountained out drenching the front of Vladislav's uniform.
"We need a medic." Stas murmured. He realized he'd mumbled and repeated himself in a louder voice. Vladislav's eyes drooped low and were crooked. Stas wasn't sure he was breathing until he put a hand on his blood soaked chest and felt it rise and fall barely. Stas reached down on his utility pack and pulled off a medkit. "It's okay, Vlad." Stas cooed gently as he applied gauze dressing to the gaping wound. Vladislav showed further sign of life when a bullet smacked into the armoured window of the back passenger door and he jumped a little.
More GAZs began pulling up and squads of infantrymen were already converging on the area. A soldier with a white armband that had a red cross on it came up to Stas. "Help me get him out of this thing." the medic said. Stas grabbed Vladislav's legs as the medic got both arms underneath his armpits. "Odin , dva, tri." Stas lifted as the medic did and they gently managed to get Vladislav on the ground.
Bullets ate up the air around the medic as he bent over and started working on Vladislav. It didn't faze him one bit though. Even when a round took off the heel of his boot the medic continued his work like nothing had happened. Stas tried his best to keep an eye on his dying friend and provide covering fire. His arms felt like lead each time he brought his rifle up to his shoulder. Each time he looked down at Vladislav he looked paler and paler. Finally Stas couldn't take it anymore. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Yeah. Kill those fuckers for me." the medic coolly replied. Suddenly feeling like his arms weighed their normal weight, he did just that.
000
Louis watched the firefight from the window of a multistory building two blocks away with a pair of binoculars. His fellow countrymen had the Stovies outgunned but that wouldn't last long. More and more Estovakian units were pouring into the area at an alarming rate. Their little ambush had done as much damage it could and achieved the desired effect. It was time to pull back before they were overwhelmed. He brought a cheap walkie-talkie up to his mouth and pressed the talk button. "All Resistance cells disengage. I repeat disengage. We licked 'em good." Immediately Louis pocketed the walkie-talkie and made his way out the abandoned corner office. He walked at a brisk pace towards the elevator at the end of the dark hallway. The only light came from the open doors that lined the hall. Just before he got to the elevator it dinged loudly. An arrow pointing upwards just above the elevator's sliding doors flashed on. Louis stopped in mid-stride. The building, with the exception of a few squatters and homeless, should have been empty. That meant only one thing could be riding the elevator to his level. Trouble.
Louis ducked into one of the vacant offices and pulled his Glock 21 from his waistband. If the Estovakians zeroed in on his coordinates that fast than he had a big problem. Hopefully the two L109 grenades in his pockets would help even up the odds a little because a squad of riflemen would beat one guy armed with a pistol any day of the week. As the seconds ticked by Louis' mind raced. There had to be another exit besides the elevator. This was a former office so there had to be with fire codes and whatnot. Stairs! He remembered seeing a sign that pointed to a stairwell when he first set up this position. Only thing was it was at the other end of the hall. Without missing a beat Louis cobbled together a plan.
The elevator dinged again announcing its arrival. Louis took a grenade from his pocket, pulled the pin, and let go of the spoon. He rounded the corner with aiming his pistol with one hand and cocking back his arm with the other. Just as the elevator's doors grinded open Louis chucked the grenade. It hit a surprised Stovie soldier in the face and fell to the floor. He didn't wait around to see the results. At a dead sprint he headed for where he remembered the stairs should be.
"Blyadʹ, granata!" one of the Stovies yelled. Louis paid them no attention. He was more than halfway down the hall when the grenade detonated. Something burning hot slammed into Louis' left shoulder knocking him over. He rolled into an office and leaned against the doorframe panting. His entire back felt like someone had lit it on fire and when he touched his left shoulder blade his fingers came back red.
"Shit." Louis muttered as he tried to block out the searing pain. He peeked around the corner to see if any of the Stovies survived. The inside of the elevator was blackened from the explosion and bits of the soldiers covered the walls. One had dove out of the elevator and survived. He was crawling for his rifle that had been flung several feet in front of him. Louis pulled himself up and made his way to the Stovie. He saw why the Stovie was crawling as he got closer. The invader's legs were blown off along with a piece of his hip. He looked up at Louis with a spiteful glare.
"Shoulda stayed in your own fucking country." Louis said between clenched teeth. With that he put two bullets in Stovie's back and one in his head for good measure. You could never be too sure. Louis started towards the stairs again. He couldn't manage to run this time. Every step he took sent another spasm of pain down his entire back. After what seemed like an eternity he made it. Slowly he opened the door and surveyed the nearly pitch black stairwell. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark but once they did he flew down the steps four at a time almost tripping twice. A stairwell is the last place he'd want to have a firefight in. The thought of how it would have felt to tumble down all five flights of stairs with his wounded shoulder made him shudder though. It was the perfect motivator to slow down a little.
When he got to the door that led outside he stepped. There was no he could just stroll out with a chunk of his shoulder missing and expect not to be stopped or worse shot on site. With some quick thinking Louis came up with yet another plan. He shoved his Glock back into his waistband and bit his lower lip. Suppressing a yelp he reached over his shoulder and dug his finger into his wound. Instantly tears sprung into his eyes. Breathing heavily he now opened the door. The sun was just dipping below the city's western skyline casting long shadows. An Estovakian patrol jogging down the street almost ran into Louis. One of them did manage to bump him making that much easier to produce more tears. "The insurgents are in there!" Louis cried before any of them could start asking questions or shooting. "They're shooting everyone!" The most senior Stovie barked an order and the patrol went charging into the building. Louis briskly walked in the opposite direction of the dying sounds of gunfire and hoped he didn't encounter anymore curious Stovies. The sooner he got home the better. No way could his luck last much longer.
000
Gracemeria Air Force Base was garrisoned by 5,000 Estovakian soldiers. Most of which were veterans of their harsh civil war and furthered hardened by the brief but vicious assault on the city. Peter was no military expert but it was clear that it would have taken several divisions to wretch the base from the Stovie's grasp. It simply amazed him that they just walked, or rather drove, right through the front gate. All Jack had to do was show the guards at the gate some forged paperwork and they were in. Calvin Sanchez, the leader of the cell that the other men in the BMP-3 belonged to, even bummed a few smokes off one of the guards. When he told Jack that he had laughed. "Bastards aren't as smart as they'd like you to think."
"Well we can't be that smart either. We just basically surrounded ourselves with a couple of brigades of crack Stovie troops." Calvin said.
"Difference between us and them," Jack replied tucking the cigarette he still had from earlier in the day behind his ear. "Is we're prepared."
"I sure hope so." Calvin said as he looked over his shoulder and out circular view port. Despite all the commotion that was going on just across Gracemeria Bay the troops inside of the airbase were pretty relaxed. Aside from the occasional roving patrol most personnel were unarmed. The seven men inside the BMP's troop bay didn't let that put them at ease. They all understood that could change in a moment's notice and if they caused it they were surely dead.
"It's getting dark. You sure your guys can still do their part?" Calvin asked. He looked a little nervous. Peter couldn't lie, he was too. Being in one of the heaviest defended areas of Gracemeria wasn't something you usually felt good about.
Jack made a face like he'd just been personally insulted. "The second team is led by a guy named Carter. He was the best guy on a mortar when he was in the Army. He's a sucker for perfection too. I know he'll get the job done."
The rest of the ride was made in silence. Each man was left alone to his thoughts. Peter's immediately drifted to LeAnn. He wouldn't be seeing her or his baby boy for a while. Just in case things did go to shit it was better the Stovies couldn't find her. Even though she knew next to nothing about the Resistance's activities more than likely she wouldn't be spared from torture. Just as the Emmerian Liberation Front didn't take very many Stovie prisoners the Estovakian Army took even fewer. From the very beginning it was clear that no quarter would be asked and none given. Peter was more than prepared to give up his life. At least it would put LeAnn and Jonathan one step closer towards being able to be free again. However he was not and did not want anything to happen to LeAnn.
Peter was taken out of his thoughts by Jack tapping him on the shoulder. "Stay focused kid. The show is about to start." The BMP slowed to a stop in front of a hanger. A large group of Estovakians were standing at attention in the middle of the hanger in front of a podium. A uniformed band played what Peter could only guess was the Estovakian national anthem. There on the podium was Major General Rusland Vorobiev standing erect with a hand across his heart. "As soon as the fireworks go off move in boys. If he's still alive we'll try to trick the bastard in here but if he doesn't bite we go in shooting." Jack said.
"And don't forget guys," Calvin said doing his best to smile. Peter could tell it was forced a little. "Act like good Stovies so we don't have to waste any bullets."
Peter suddenly became aware of a low howling sound. It grew louder and louder until suddenly BANG! Something crashed through the hanger's ceiling. The projectile landed right in the middle of the band and detonated. Before the concussion could knock the assembly of soldiers down three more projectiles came screaming in. Two landed amongst the crowd of soldiers while the third slammed into an adjoining hanger. While the two that landed in the major general's hanger did their jobs perfectly the one that went off course harmed their cause more than it helped it. Two MiG-29s were in the hanger gassed up and ready to go at a moment's notice. Both exploded with such force that it nearly flipped the BMP over and threw burning jet fuel in a wide semi-circle. Pilots who had been sleeping in bunks next to their fighters alongside crewmembers who had been doing the refueling ran out of the inferno burning like human torches. A bit stunned, the men stumbled out of the split doors. The smell of jet fuel overpowered every other odour and stung Peter's eyes a little. The whine of firefighting trucks could already be heard in the distance and the few men who were alive were frantically helping the wounded.
"Stay here guys." Jack said as he jogged in the direction of one of the unwounded Stovies. He exchanged a brief few words and turned back towards the group. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. "Junior Sergeant Vasily! Junior Sergeant Vasily!" The men looked at each other confused for a moment. It dawned on Peter that Jack was calling him. He started jogging but tripped on something. As he got up he saw he had stepped in some poor Stovie's stomach. The contents of the man's partially digested dinner were all over his boots now. Shaking it off Peter pushed on.
"Otchetnost' po komande, ser." Peter said saluting sloppily. Reporting as ordered sir. He feigned a look of horror at the mangled bodies all around. There were a lot more wounded than there were dead although most looked very close to death.
"Ne prosto stoyat' tam khromat' chlen. Nam nuzhno poluchit' obshcheye v lazaret." Jack snapped. Peter had to suppress a chuckle despite the morbid scene all around him. Don't just stand there limp dick. We need to get the Vorobiev to the infirmary. The duo climbed shifted through the splintered remains of the podium uncovering several bodies in the process but no Major General Rusland yet.
"I think we need to hurry." Peter whispered. Five fire trucks pulled up with full compliments of fire fighters and began trying to control the rapidly spreading flames. It wouldn't be long before a rapid reaction force would cordon off the area. Together Jack and Peter shoved a large piece of wood aside revealing Major General Rusland. The Shark of Silvat was surprisingly in good shape. The only thing that was wrong was his right arm was obviously broken and splinter stuck out of his skin like a porcupine. Considering he was also unconscious a concussion couldn't be ruled out. They pulled him completely out of the remains of the podium and started dragging him back to the BMP. This got them a few strange stares but the Stovies had many more wounded to take care of. For all they knew their beloved major general was in very good hands. Jack and Peter handed Major General Rusland off to Calvin's men and they all climbed into the BMP. Just as they started pulling off the Stovie rapid reaction team showed up. Watching several Mi-24 Hinds touch down and disgorge assault troops made him happy they didn't stick around. Even with the BMP all it took was one lucky RPG strike and they would have been done.
Jack checked his watch. "Second round of fireworks should be incoming about now. Fuckers won't dare stop us at the front gate now." Peter looked out the viewport intent on seeing what Jack had been talking about. He mistook the incoming white phosphorus shells as bright stars at first. That assumption was quickly dismissed as they rapidly descended. There were seven separate flashes of light and dozens of fiery white tendrils streaked towards the ground. "Check this out guys!" Jacked shouted sounding like an excited kid. They all took turns looking through the main guns sight which had been pointed backwards. The quality of Estovakian night vision equipment was rather shitty but the intensely hot white phosphorus gave them plenty of enough light. Along the length of the main landing strip fires were raging. Exposed fuel reserves lit up like roman candles shooting fountains of burning liquid everywhere. Fires jumped from building to building and engulfed everything it touched. Parked planes caught on fire and when they exploded added even more burning material to the firestorm. A thick curtain of black smoke completely hit one side of the base from the other making it more than difficult to coordinate firefighting efforts for the Stovies.
Jack was right. They opened the main gate for the BMP with asking one question. The driver brought them deep into Emma Town and parked inside an underground level of a parking garage. Finally they were safe. The stress bled out slowly as they got out of the BMP and stretched their legs after tying the major general up and chaining him to the BMP itself. He still didn't come around. The driver produced a canteen full of vodka that he had found under the driver's seat. Jack led them in a toast before they all took a swig. "Guys, we may have won a pretty big victory here today but this isn't the end. I'm not going to lie to you; we have a long fight ahead of us. If we keep doing what we're doing now there is no way we can lose. We did our country well. I'm proud of all of you." Jack took a deep swig from the canteen and passed it around. When it got to Peter he closed his eyes and took a mouthful. The vodka was strong but he'd had stronger before. When the canteen finished its round Jack continued. "Now we get out of these uniforms and wait until morning. Two guys keep watch while the others sleep. Rotate every three hours. Calvin and I will take first watch. Get some sleep guys, you earned it."
Peter didn't need to be told twice. With the smell of jet fuel still lingering in his nose, he leaned against one of the BMP's wheels and dozed off soon afterwards.