Author's Note: After a long time away, I'm finally back and able to finish off both Green Team and Black Team. Please enjoy!
October 7th, 2014
Staff Sergeant Michael "Dust" Durst
Forward Operating Base Utah
Konar, Afghanistan
0534 Hours
It had been two weeks since the operation we had been sent on was over. The casualty count was six, two dead, three gravely wounded and one injured. Lieutenant Able had deemed the operation a success but at too high of a cost. After the LAVs arrived, the enemy really opened up on the entire USMC Company surrounding them. RPG rounds slagged two of the armored personnel vehicle supporting the assault. Four hours after we were inside the village, we finally were able to clear the area out. Intel was recovered, weapon caches destroyed and the marines – drained.
Olivia wasn't quite the same afterwards.
She seemed on edge, paranoid and slightly twitchy.
Despite being a prick, Captain Philips did allow the 3/6 Charlie or Raiders, a nickname the Brits gave us, a week of R&R on base. Unlike having vacation on a big base or in a city that wasn't just filled with mountains of death or rivers of doom, we sat around sunbathing like proper bored men and played pranks on one another until even the Marines got bored of that and did nothing on the last day.
Even Townsend murmured the words, 'I'm bored out of my mind.'
By the second week, right on the money on Monday, we were assigned a mission. It was a simple reconnaissance mission to a mountain top to survey the area for possible hostile activity and threats in the area. Sure, it wasn't anything out of the norm, but I felt like it was just their version of saying 'stay the fuck out of our way until you go home.' I was up for something of such low intensity, but we'd later come to find out that it was anything but 'low intensity.'
Olivia was assigned to our unit once again for the mission.
More medical personnel had come to fill out the roster at the FOB and Captain Philips deemed that after her first real contact with the enemy, some more experience wouldn't do her harm. Her eyes had a dull look in them the last time I saw her.
Wouldn't do her harm my ass.
"Raider Actual, Raider 11," came the short burst of noise in my ear.
"Raider Actual. Go for message," I murmured back into the mic.
"Raider Actual, time is 0015 Hours. We have one hour to reach Point Echo to check in," Davis whispered.
"That's all we get to rest then," I grunted and stood up.
My knees screamed under the heavy load. The combined weight from my plate carrier, assault pack complete with a week worth's of ration and water and rifle was enough to make any man pant after five minutes of walking.
The moon peeked out from behind clouds as moonlight sliced through the tree leaves, spraying the ground with spots of light. In the darkness I could see a pair of eyes glistening like luminescent orbs before disappearing accompanied by the sounds of crackling twigs and crumpling leaves. Chirps from nocturnal birds filled my ears with a calming melody as the sound of panting and boot treading the ground broke the serene silence.
My eyelids were heavy from exhaustion.
Between the two days of almost nonstop marching and the four hours of sleep, the entire squad was being worked to absolute exhaustion. The British Army had dropped us off about three days out from the large village we had to reconnoiter. Their reasoning was for us to remain shrouded by the forest and mountains, inserting with stealth at the top of one of the many mountains that sat high above the settlement. One day's marching would have been enough. But, the brass wanted us to be extra cautious since we Marines were too loud for their taste.
There was a sharp exhale from my left side.
I glanced over to see Townsend's head droop down slightly before bouncing back up.
He was worn out.
My hand instinctively reached over and grabbed the small hoist on the back of his plate carrier. His right foot slammed into a patch of upward sloping ground before slipping. Screams of pain erupted from my left arm. Townsend's eyes quickly snapped open. Feet scrambled for better footing, his hands were held out to support his weight before realizing that I held him up.
"Thanks Sarge," Townsend thanked, pushing himself forward.
"This fucking sucks," murmured Mejia.
The rifleman had his M16 rifle cradled on chest, supported by his arms. His breathing was heavy and rapid between long draws of cool air. Dirt encrusted his face and mud caked his uniform. Black bags hung under his eyes as we continued to march through the night.
"No arguments there," breathed Townsend.
There was a buzzing in my ear.
"Just keep moving, one feet in front of the other. Eventually, we'll get through the Suck," muttered Davis.
"Easy for you to say Corporal Davis," Mejia retorted with a hiss.
"Shut the fuck up," I ordered swiftly, and held up my fist.
The loose formation of eighteen came to a quick halt.
I waved downwards towards the ground and sank to one knee. Even though we were walking just a dozen or so feet from the road, passing vehicles with lights could still spot us in the darkness if the passenger or driver had a keen eye. Not to mention the British gave us strict rules of engagements to follow. Any detection from the locals coming to and from by vehicles or foot would make the reconnaissance an instant failure since it would telegraph the presence of NATO forces.
My left hand pulled down the monocular night vision goggle over my left eye.
There was a bright flash of light, my left eye trying to adjust itself to the sudden brightness. White light quickly became a green grainy image of the forest bathed in an unnatural light. In the murky green was a bobbing flash of white. The orb bounced around as rays shot out from the moving vehicle. The buzzing was an all too familiar four stroke cylinder accompanied by the creaking suspension. It was the backbone of the terrorist strike force - the old 70s motorcycles.
Some villagers were wealthy enough to buy these old scooters but, they were far more often found in use by the enemy to ferry ammunition and weapons all around the country. Sometimes hidden beneath a female's burka would be a bandolier filled with magazines or a vest fitted with grenades and rocket warheads. Other times, there would be small charges strapped to the engine and connected to the vest the men rode on. With the flick of a switch, the bikes would be turned from transportation into high-speed shrapnel.
These two wheeled motorized bikes were a force to be reckoned with.
"What do you see boss?" Mejia muttered.
"One two-wheeler headed our way," I murmured back, my left eye already squinting to the point of shutting.
"Griffin, I need that sniper on target. Get me a picture," I spoke into the mic hugging my lips.
"Roger that Sarge," came the swift reply.
"Eddington, Davis, Mejia and Townsend with me. We're going to go wait by the road if the motorcycle looks suspicious," I ordered, "the rest of you hold fire until you hear the crack of a bullet you understand me? I don't want a single one of you fucking idiots to jump the gun and hose down civis."
"I'll watch them Staff Sergeant," Wilkins confidently replied.
Standing up slowly I whispered back, "you do that."
Pushing the rifle's stock into my shoulder, I quietly stalked over towards the road running parallel to us. Each twig and leaf could be felt under my boot. The crunch of the wood crisp in my ears in the serene forest with the exception of the buzzing motorized engine. You could practically hear the pot-pot-pot of the old engine from a hundred feet away still trying to ferry the two passengers down the mountain road.
The five of us eventually came to a stop just behind three large trees and a couple shrubs that rose up to our waist.
I pulled the charging handle back on the SCAR ever so slightly to see the glint of metal inside the firing chamber. Flicking the fire selector onto single shot, the SCAR was raised in preparation for the impromptu vehicle check. I watched the Marines do the same thing before turning to face the bobbing light come down the dirt trail.
"Raider Actual, Raider 13," I heard Griffin whisper in my ear.
"Actual. Go for message," I replied.
"Two possible tangos on the vehicle. There's a slender tube with a slight bulge at the top, possible rocket propelled grenade. There's something else slung at the left side of the driver unknown to me at this time," reported Griffin.
"Roger that, keep eyes on and report if anything changes."
I glanced back at the Marine and British SIS agent and whispered, "Townsend you take left side, Mejia you take right. Davis you're center with Eddington right behind you for terp duties. I'll swing around and act like one of your soldiers, check?"
A swift nod came from the four.
"Good, let's move it before they pass us."
Crunching filled my ears as the four Marines stepped out of the protection of the forest and onto the road. I stepped just right of Mejia. At this point, the motorcycle was just a couple dozen feet away from the man-made blockade. I could feel the light sweep across our bodies. Clacking came from the rifles as Townsend, Mejia and I raised our weapons and pointed it at the oncoming vehicle. Answering the loud buzzing of the engine, a ray of powerful light shot from the rifles mounted flashlight/laser combo and bathed the vehicle in a white glow. It was a fighting age male with a rough beard with a shortened AK-47 slung at his side. The stock was cut off with a crudely made double magazine taped together with duct tape. Another male, slightly older, was sitting behind him. His eyes were squeezed shut from the sudden brightness.
"Halt!" Captain Eddington ordered, her voice just soft enough that it didn't echo through the mountains.
The motorcycle's headlight dimmed slightly. It started to lose speed as the loud buzzing turned into a rhythmically low growl. Rolling closer, the headlight went dark. The growling from the engine suddenly became silent. It looked like the motor died while the vehicle glided to a stop just ten or so feet away. Both men planted their feet on the ground and raised their arms. Eyes shut, they looked down towards the ground and away from the powerful light being emitted from my SCAR.
A soft breeze rolled by, rustling the tree's branches and leaves.
"Advance," Davis ordered.
The four us cautiously stepped forward.
Even with our guns raised, a single vehicle borne IED detonated by either of them would send us straight to world beyond. Fuck even trying to be MEDEVAC'ed, the moment the superheated and high-speed shrapnel touched any article of clothing it would slice clean through bone, muscle and tissue. Circling around to the right, I stood behind the motorcycle as Captain Eddington told the two that we would be checking their persons in Pashto. I instantly recognized the tube and warhead of an RPG-29 slung across the back of the rear passenger. Unlike its younger inaccurate brother, the RPG-29 had a more powerful rocket motor, making longer range shots easier to execute not to mention its ability to penetrate thick tank armor. The bulbous elongated warhead loaded into the tube was a tandem high-explosive anti-tank round that would easily rip through anything that wasn't armored like a tank and spray the insides with streams of molten metal, instantly killing anyone inside and even detonating secured ordnance.
I grabbed the man with my left hand, the torch mounted onto the rifle extinguishing as soon as my hand left the pressure sensor.
There was a grunt of both pain and surprise from the male.
Slamming him into the ground, I ripped the rocket tube from his back and threw the weapon on the ground. My left knee pressed against his lower back. Pinned, I swung the SCAR out of my way and grabbed both of his hands before securing his wrists with zip ties. He struggled, trying to break free from underneath me as I sat on him with my body weight, loaded pack and equipment. I could hear his lungs frantically trying to draw air in short breaths while my knee crushed his torso.
"Stop. Or I die," I heard broken English as my head whipped up to see the driver had something clench in his right hand.
"Fuck, he speaks English?" I heard Mejia exclaimed with a shock voice, "that's a bad fucking sign."
"I go boom if I drop this," the driver explained, "back off."
Fuck! Dead man switch, the thought instantly went to my head.
My hand quickly went to my pistol and drew the sidearm.
The small red dot lined up perfectly at the back of the man's turban wrapped head. A small chuckled escaped from him as I continued to back up and glanced down at the bottom of my pistol. There was blue tape wrapped around the bottom of the extended magazine well. That meant one thing – subsonic rounds.
"Griffin," I hissed under my breath after getting just two steps away.
"Yeah Sarge?" he muttered.
"We have a dead man switch. Do you have a resolution?" I whispered back.
There was an awkward pause.
I adjusted the grip on my sidearm, my fingers constantly squeezing my knuckles nervously. Fear started to set in and made my stomach fill with butterflies. It was probably the only thing that had kept me from dying thus far. Rocking back and forth, I waited for Griffin's response as I heard a wooden twig snap from the forest. The man didn't say a thing and continued to wait. Mejia, Townsend and Davis glanced at me before staring back at the man. Their lips were pressed thin from worry as I continued to inch forward slowly from behind him.
"Muhammad!" the passenger screamed as I slammed my boot down on his leg with a sickening snap, "argh!"
His ankle had snapped from the force of my strike and was now twisted at an inhuman angle. I kept my aim and glanced at the younger man. With a scowl on my face, he lips were glued together as he knew what was going to come next if he didn't shut his mouth.
"I have a resolution. I am green," Griffin breathed, his breathing rapid.
"I said back off," he said sternly, glancing back at me over his shoulder.
"Send it," I muttered.
Sweeping my right hand back towards my thigh, I holstered the FNH45 and rushed towards the man. His eyes widened. Time seemed to slow down. Adrenaline course through my body, my hands reaching out in front of me to grab the switch. I could feel my hands clamping down on the man's thumb and hand.
Crack!
The snap of the bullet shattered the strange silence. My hands firmly pressed down on the switch, preventing the man from releasing the suicide bomb strapped to his body. Hot liquid splattered onto my skin despite the cold air nipping at my exposed flesh. I could feel a sudden weight push into my side, almost knocking me off balance as the driver's body slumped against the left side of my body. I could feel a steady stream of warm liquid streaming down my shoulder.
"Get the knife and get the fucking vest off of him!" I ordered, trying to keep my voice down and his body on the bike.
Davis and Mejia quickly jumped to action and quickly cut the vest off of the corpse. I could hear the blade ripping through fabric. Scrambling, I turned to face the man and pushed him off of my body. Blood still continue to stream down the left side of my body while I reached into my side pouch and pulled out a roll of duct tape. I grabbed the tape with my teeth and started pulling out the silver adhesive, slamming the adhesive on the man's knuckle. It wrapped around his hand before I paused just short of his thumb.
"Sarge, you know if his blows now we'll just be mincemeat right?" Davis asked, holding up the man from the left side.
"We don't have any way to defuse it either. We're just going to have to dump him down the mountainside with and stick a frag to his chest," I grunted.
I took a breath before quickly lifting my hand and securing the tape over his thumb. It slipped lightly from the button, making my stomach sink just slightly as I pulled the tape taut over his digit. I half expected my head to be flying through the sky in the next second after the explosion, but the vest never detonated. A sigh of relief escaped my chapped lips. I glanced up to see the four Marines and Captain Eddington staring back at me with wide eyes and a shocked expression etched on their faces.
"What?" I stated, wrapping the duct tape rapidly around the man's hand until it's a small silvery ball.
"Sarge you're fucking insane you know that?" Townsend muttered.
"Wasn't the first time I heard that," I grunted.
"You could have died you know Michael," Olivia whispered in my ear.
I brushed off the comment and ripped the end of the duct tape off with my teeth.
"Captain, secure the haji and interrogate him for information," I ordered, pulling out an M67 frag grenade.
"Staff Sergeant," Davis said with some hesitation, "want do you want us to do after we finish drilling him for intel?"
I looked up from the grenade, placing it on the chest and taping it down with another piece of duct tape.
"Kill him," I replied coldly.
"But that's inhumane!" Eddington yelled back.
A sigh involuntarily came out from my mouth as I pulled off my pack and wrapped my arms around the man's torso. I pulled the man over my shoulder, the warm liquid now pouring out of the head wound and onto my uniform. Stepping silently over to the edge of the mountain trail, I pulled the pin from the grenade with my right hand and gripped the sphere to hold the spoon in place. I heaved the body over the edge and heard the clack of the spoon flying free of the grenade as the body tumbled down the slope, his arms flailing widely. He bounced once. The corpse impact the ground so hard he lifted off the ground before there was a flash. A once still whole body was eviscerated in the blink of an eye. The first explosion from the frag grenade simply shredded the man's clothes as a red mist burst from his lifeless corpse. A second, large explosion shook the ground a second later. Tape securing his hand and thumb, now torn and ripped, had come off. His body disappeared as chunks of meat sprayed the ground with his four limbs scattered all down the mountain side. A rapidly expanding shockwave slammed into my frame. Dust and dirt were blown off my uniform along with still wet blood into the area behind me.
Satisfied, I turned back to answer Eddington's question.
"Do you want me and my Marines to haul his fucking ass all the way up the mountain top? Or do you want us to radio in a helicopter just a day or two away from this village? Or, do you want us to go all the way back to the fucking DZ and call your people to pull this one fucking guy with an RPG out?" I asked.
I could still feel the warm blood cooling on the side of my face.
"There has to be another way –," Captain Eddington started as I abruptly cut her off.
"There is no other alternative that wouldn't make us fall behind schedule, and now there's even less of an alternative since we just woke up the entire valley with that sniper shot and the fucking IED detonation. You leave him alive or tied up to a tree, he comes back and maybe instead of an RPG, it's a fucking IED. Ask him the questions and then I'll personally do it if you can't," I ordered, pulling out my sidearm and flicking the safety off.
"Sarge what about the motorcycle?" Davis asked.
"Leave it on the road. Hopefully some poor shoeless local will pick the thing up and use it or at least sell it off for some money," I grunted back.
Bewildered and still in shock, Townsend and Mejia shuffled over to the restrained Afghan and grabbed his arms. They lifted him off of his feet and started dragging him into the forest. I saw the man shudder before he started to uncontrollably sob. He was probably thinking that he was about to die in the forest with a broken foot. To be honest, he was going to die but that part would come later.
First, we had to get information from him.
Townsend and Mejia gently placed the man up against a thick tree trunk. Moonlight flittered through the treetops, spraying the scared man in spots of light. His cheeks were slick with tears and snot was dripping down his nose. A snapping made me glance back to see Griffin and Taylor appearing from the shadows. Eddington stood next to the Afghan, questioning the man. Langley stood next to me and gave me a quick nod understanding what was happening as it was broadcasted to the entire team.
A few minutes passed in the darkness.
There was soft murmuring between the marines but Eddington was the one doing most of the exchanges. Lieutenant Young moved up next to me and looked up to me. Her eyes were full of worry as she turned back towards the Afghan man. Moments later, his head dropped to the ground and continued to sob but wasn't answering Eddington anymore. The SIS agent asked the man a few more times before she shook her head, got up and started walking back towards me.
"Get anything out of him?" I asked, staring at the sobbing man.
"Other than he's from the village we're going to and that the guy you killed was his uncle? Nothing else. I asked where he got the RPG and he didn't say a word. He's already started bloody praying," Captain Eddington breathed, "now do what you have to do. Staff Sergeant."
Her tone when she addressed me was one of disgust.
I wouldn't blame her.
"Get up," I grunted, grabbing the man by his right arm and pulling him up.
He sobbed as I pushed him deeper into the forest. I pulled out my combat knife and swiped at his wrist while he was walking, the plastic easily broken. Surprised, he turned around to face me. I waved him off towards the forest. Unsure, he hobbled away from me at a slow place. A red dot was aimed at the back of his head as I squeezed the trigger. Upon hearing the rattle of the sidearm, the Afghan man turned back just as the FNP45 jerked slightly in my grip.
Clack.
All that could be heard was the firing operation of the sidearm. The subsonic round sailed through the air without the distinct crack of a bullet going supersonic. I watched as the bullet drilled a hole through the right corner of his eyebrow. His head jerked back with inhuman force, crumpling into the ground with another sickening crack. Holstering the FNP45, I walked up to the now lifeless man and crouched down next to his body. His foot was twisted completely backwards and his leg an awkward mass of muscle. I grabbed his hands, placing them on his chest before whispering a couple words and placed a cigarette under his hands.
Walking back, I felt…remorse? No, it was a feeling of a wasted life. He could have grown up, gotten married and had kids like a normal adult. Instead, in this forsaken place, they were either forced to fight or were made to believe that fighting was the right choice.
I walked back to see a couple of my marines avoid eye contact while others just gave me a solemn nod.
I picked up my pack and wiped some of the cooled blood off of my face before shrugging on the pack.
"Move out," I ordered grimly, facing the upward sloping ground and continued to march.
The hours of silence slipped by. Panting and the sound of boots against ground filled up the hours. Night slowly gave way to day. Dark skies turned a crimson red as the sun started to rise and the heat warmed up the cold Earth. The frosty temperature started to warm and before long the sun was up in the sky. I started to sweat, in the night I had my sleeves down to warm myself up. Now in the morning, the heat was already starting to peak. My digital camouflage uniform had been discarded for a khaki tee.
Skin started to sizzle and boil.
Shrugging my pack, I felt my sore shoulders rubbing against the pack straps. The straps rubbed against fabric and fabric against skin. My entire body was drenched in sweat before being rapidly cooled by the chilled mountain air. When the mission began, the marines would talk with each other for the first day or two. But now, after multiple days of marching towards our observation point, both the marines and I ran out of things to talk about.
A large plateau was high up in the distance.
Just a few hours away, the observation point was high up on a mountain top designated Hill 1894. At one thousand eight hundred and ninety four meters above sea level, the plateau was a couple hundred meters away from the village we were assigned to reconnoiter. It was barren apart from rocks and dirt that adorned the high peak. Breathing was starting to get difficult the higher we ascended.
We came to a stop at the tree line.
Three hundred meters away it was the plateau. I held up a fist to stop the squad. Turning around, I took off my pack and placed it up against the bark of a pine tree. The entire squad followed suit and crawled underneath the protective shade. Rustling from beside drew my attention. I realized that it was Lieutenant Young who climbed in the same tree that I was in. Langley slid in along with Eddington to take cover from the setting sun. Langley said nothing and simple pulled out the radiophone from his radio pack, holding it out next to my face.
"This is Raider Actual to all Raiders, establish camp and take a four hour breather. It's fire team Charlie's turn to take watch. I'll go out and set-up OP 1 with Alpha. You've earned your rest Raiders," I breathed into the mic before grabbing the radiophone and jamming it between my ear and the headset.
"Zero Alpha, this is Raider Actual. Pass message to Sunray. Checking in at Point Kilo, time is 1637 Hours we have established Marmot at Kilo and will set-up OP 1 in two hours, how copy?" I panted into the radiophone.
"Raider Actual – confirmed…Marmot- Kilo, over," the choppy transmission came filled with noise.
"Zero Alpha, please repeat orders you are two by three, repeat two by three," I replied.
"Raider – establish OP1…stand by."
"I can't fucking understand what she's saying. We need to get a tower up at OP 1 if we're to report anything to Captain Philips," I grumbled and pulled the radiophone out of my ear, handing it back to Langley, "get some shut eye. When the sun goes down we have to go out to the plateau to set up communications."
"You got is Sarge," Langley replied, "but look bossman. I know what you had to do, I understand. But some of these kids are too young to understand why. They'll realize why in due time."
"I know Langley, I know," I murmured back with a small smile and a nod.
I pulled out a white tube that resembled toothpaste. On the tube was 'Nestle Condensed Milk'. Flipping the cap, I held the opening to my mouth a squeezed. A sweet semi-aqueous substance filled my mouth. It slid down my throat, stinging the entire way since my throat was beyond dry. Dessert in a liquid form. It was a small piece of comfort and a commodity from home.
Something fell on my shoulder.
I looked right to see Olivia's head fall on my right shoulder. She seemed so peaceful sleeping in a country plagued by war. My hand instinctively brushed away a stray lock of blonde hair from her forehead. She didn't notice my actions from her exhausted state. I chuckled and watched Charlie with their rifles propped up by their knees underneath the cover of the pine trees. Before long, my eyelids started to get heavy from the combination of exhaustion and sleep depravity. A cool breeze rolled by and plunged me deep into the abyss of sleep as I felt my head nestle against Olivia's.
It felt like a few seconds had just passed before I was been shaken awake again. My eyes snapped open. Rubbing my burning eyes, I glanced up to see Davis shaking me awake in the dim light. I turned to see Olivia also stirring. She stared up at me with bleary eyes and rubbed them for a few seconds before wetting her dry and cracked lips. Yawning, I gave her a beaming smile despite being fatigued. After a few minutes of slowly waking up, her eyes grew wide and her cheeks were flushed red. I chuckled before grabbing my pack and giving her a small pat on the back. She flinched from the action but with time, she'll become better.
"Morning Staff Sergeant," Davis greeted, "or shall I say evening?"
"Evening Davis," I croaked back, biting down on the drinking tube and sipping cool water.
"Shall we gents?" Langley asked.
"Just give us a sec Scot. Townsend and Mejia have the shits so we're going to have to wait for them," Davis said with a chuckle.
"When the fuck did they eat?" I asked, pulling out the half-finished tube of condensed milk.
"Two hours or so ago?" Campbell replied with a small laugh and staring in the direction of the forest, "they woke up hungry and now they're paying the price for mixing shit."
"Staff Sergeant?" I heard a voice call from behind me.
"What's up Wilkins?" I asked my 2IC.
"Perimeter's set and the area's been secure. But I've noticed goats in the area. I feel like this area's popular for goat herders to bring them here to graze," Wilkins reported.
"We'll deal with it when we get to that bridge. Otherwise stick to the ROE and SOP," I replied.
"Roger that Sarge," Wilkins nodded.
"Take care of the kids while I'm away will you?" I asked, seeing Mejia and Townsend clutching their stomachs as they walked over to us.
"You got it Sarge," Wilkins replied.
"Oh fuck that was terrible," Townsend grumbled.
The two marines were still clutching at their stomachs. Their rifles drooped slightly almost touching the ground. Uncomfortable was etched all over their faces as they were finally ready to move out to the mountain point. Looking at the small team of six, I asked for Griffin's sniper rifle to be used on the ridge. Binoculars are one thing but a loaded sniper rifle for when things go sideways was another. The fire team leader had his M16A4 back-up with him at all times and was fine with parting with his long ranged rifle.
"Bad meal?" I asked, hopping slightly to adjust the weight on my back.
"Bad doesn't even begin to summarize the idiotic idea Staff Sergeant," Townsend groaned.
"You were the one who came up with the idea dumbass," Mejia grumbled back, "let's mix all the cheese with tabasco and that jalapeno we got from base three weeks ago he said."
I rolled my eyes, these two were always up to something to entertain themselves.
"Alright numbskulls, simmer down, shut the fuck up and let's move out before I die of old age," I grunted, nodding for Davis to move out first.
"See you Alpha. Make sure Mejia and Townsend take their medicine otherwise they'll continue to have the shits and crap their only clean pair of undies," Campbell said with a wave.
"Fuck you too Campbell," Mejia replied before following Davis.
As we exited the tree line, I felt strangely exposed. The only location higher than where we were was almost two miles away on the opposite side of the valley. And even then, anything but mortars and high powered anti-aircraft guns like the DShK were the only things that could hit us. A shiver ran through my body involuntarily from the rapidly declining weather. We were high up and the scorching sun had set behind the mountains allowing the darkness back into the world. Black blanketed the skies that used to be blue and ice started to form on the path we took up towards the mountain top. I could see my own breath in front of me as we continued to climb. There was a loud sound behind me, soft enough not to be gun fire but loud enough to be heard.
Poot.
"Mejia you fuck!" Townsend hissed, I looked back to see him rapidly waving his hands in front of his face, "that shit was stinky you asshole!"
"My bad, my bad," Mejia apologized, "looks like the MRE's still wreaking havoc inside my bowels."
"I only smelled it for like…five seconds. If this was inside a Humvee or an MRAP I would have broken out my gas mask," Townsend grunted, dry heaving just from the scent.
Boy was I glad those two were bringing up the rear.
We approached the mountain top just as the clouds smothered the moon. Unlike the cities and developed countries, no light could be seen down in the village itself save for one or two flickering dots. The valley was dark with no light. Loud howling winds swept cold air against my sweat slicked skin. Crouching, I slowly crept up towards the edge of the outcropping. I peered over the edge to see a shallow slope downwards for fifty or so feet. After that, it was a sharp drop off down the mountain. Only in severe situations would I ever go down that road. I quickly waved for Langley and Davis and gestured down towards the small recess in the area below. The outcropping protruded out far enough to give shade when the sun was up high and any wind blowing from behind during the night was wouldn't get to anyone sitting in the sheltered area.
I stood up and briskly walked to the side of the outcropping, finding an easily accessible trail that came up from the forest. Langley and Davis were already braving the two man wide trail with their large packs. It was going to be a challenge swapping watch teams during the day, but at night it was easily done since the enemy didn't use any night vision.
The six of us climbed inside the shelter and deposited our packs at the very back. I unzipped the rucksack, pulling out camouflage netting along with some pitons used for mountain climbing.
"Davis, help me out with this," I grunted, holding one end of the netting up towards the rocky ceiling.
Without a word, Alpha's team leader swiftly crawled towards me and grabbed both the netting and the piton. Placing the metal rod up to the wall, I pulled out my multi-tool and bashed the flat side of the folded pliers into the metal rod. An audible clang filled my ears. I grumbled with annoyance as the piton wasn't penetrating the rock. Davis shifted the piton slightly. He slammed the piton into a wedge between two rocks and gestured for me to drive it deeper into the space. I did as I was told and slammed the pliers into the rod, feeling the metal slid deeper into the space and seating itself inside the rock.
"See, easy," Davis chuckled.
The camouflage netting was set-up within minutes the desert tri-color patterned fabric fluttering in the gentle breeze. Langley ran the tall antenna up towards the sides of the cave, making sure to secure it on the side of the rock and covering it up with a piece of netting. I pulled the pack from the back of the small hide and placed it between my legs. With the bi-pod extended and my back comfortably leaning against one of the rocks, my eye stared through the scope and into the valley. I watched one of the flames burning in the village flicker in the wind. An elderly man sat by the flames with a child sleeping next to him in the backyard. A longer barreled rifle with a scope attached to it sat upright, held by the man. It was and SVD, the same type of designated marksman rifle used by the Russian Army.
"Communications up and running Dust. Five by five," Langley reported as he handed me the radiophone, sitting just a few feet away from me.
"Zero Alpha, this is Raider Actual. Message for Sunray. How copy?" I spoke into the radiophone.
"Raider Actual, this is Sunray, go for message."
"Sunray, report is as follows. Two times tango down with RPG-29 in possession and a suicide vest on a two-wheeled vehicle. Both tangoes are now KIA. I have eyes on one times tango with an SVD designated marksman rifle, repeat one times tango with SVD designated marksman rifle. My assessment as of now is that the target area is unsafe for hearts and mind operations. Repeat, area is unsafe for operations. How copy Sunray?" I reported, looking through the magnified glass and watching the old man.
There was a pause.
"Sunray copies all. No new orders at this time. Continue monitoring and intelligence gathering. Report in every hour and update if the need arises. Sunray out," I heard the radio buzz and handed the radiophone back to Langley.
"You think he'll listen?" asked Davis.
"What Captain Philips? I don't know. It seems like he's just here to do whatever his objective is. All we are is just an anomaly in a new battle plan," I sighed and pulled off my helmet.
"Well…what do we do now?" Mejia asked, lying down on the ground with his rolled up sleeping bag as a pillow.
"We wait, we listen and we report," I muttered, "you have first watch Davis."
"Oorah…" Davis murmured the reply.
I grabbed my boonie hat from my pack, placing the fabric over my face. And before long I was fast asleep once again after grabbing only four or so hours of sleep. Like the blink of an eye, time seemed to slip away while I slept. There was a strained scream filling my ears. It wasn't one of fear or worry, well maybe it was but I knew even with my eyes closed it was Mejia freaking out. A grunt escaped me and it was one of annoyance. I pulled my boonie hat off of my face and opened my eyes to see Mejia and Townsend clustered over the left side of the shelter. Mejia had his combat knife out and was hissing something at Townsend. I looked over to my right to see Langley and Davis fast asleep.
"What the fuck are you two doing?" I hissed and pushed myself away from the makeshift sniping position.
"Sarge!" Mejia shot back, "there's a venomous snake!"
"Yes Sarge," Townsend replied with a deadpan voice chuckling at the end of his sentence, "it's a venomous snake. So venomous."
Peering between the two hunched marines, I found the dreaded serpent slithering downwards and towards the shelter from outside the entrance. Scales with colors of black and dull red reflected in the moonlight. It was about thirty inches or so in length. A forked tongue shot out every few seconds while it slowly moved. Grumbling, I slipped the combat knife out from its holster and slammed the blade down on the head of the serpent without a second of hesitation. A loud and audible gasp burst out from Mejia as I withdrew the blade. Red blood glistened in the dim moonlight as I wiped clean with my trouser.
"That was badass Sarge, but if it bit you…you'd be like…dead," Mejia stammered.
"Dumbass," I slapped Mejia on the back of the head, "didn't you read the fucking pamphlet they gave you about the venomous snakes of Afghanistan and Pakistan? That's a kukri snake. None of the patterns matched vipers or cobras and even if it but you in the balls it'd be nothing more than a snake bite."
"Oh…" Mejia murmured and glanced towards Townsend, "you fucking lied didn't you!"
Batting his friend away with his hands, Townsend laughed, "I told you that it wasn't venomous and you ignored me anyway, city boy!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I was drawn by movement. Like an ant crawling slowly across the ground, I spotted a figure far below moving towards the dirt road from inside the village. I squinted to make sure that it wasn't just my eyes playing tricks on my in the darkness or the lack of sleep. The figure moving down the road wasn't just my imagination as it continued to move towards the road.
"Shut the fuck up for a moment and come over here," I ordered, grabbing the M40A5 and pushing it into my shoulder.
"What is it Sarge?" Townsend asked.
"What does that look like to you? Look towards the road," I murmured and peered through the optic.
It was a man wrapped with a tri-color forest camouflage cloak walking towards the road. His back was still to us and it seemed like he had a small limp in his right leg. The three of us watched take his time strolling towards the dirt road leading into the large village. He knelt down in the middle of the road, placing an object in front of him and started to dig with his hands. Minutes passed by before a sizeable hole formed from his labor. My thumb pushed the safety forward and my index finger slipped into the trigger guard. Even if I wanted to fire and kill the man, the mission objectives prevented me from doing so. A large cylindrical object was lifted from beneath him. I realized that the object being buried was an old artillery shell from the past Afghan – Russo war.
It was a V-IED.
"Looks like a man planting an IED. Smoke him?" grunted Townsend.
"Can't," I grumbled and flicked the safety back on the sniper rifle as the man got up after covering the hole, "I take the shot, the entire valley wakes up to the crack of the bullet going supersonic. What I will do though is radio Utah and hope they send someone to clear it before they walk like retards into the village."
I let out a sigh as the man finished up his trap and walked back towards the village. He placed two rocks on the side of the road before he did and sauntered back to the settlement. I just hoped that in the week that they were to gather intelligence on the village that if the British do decide to come to the village, proper precautions would be taken to prevent casualties. With the high amount of IEDs and high powered weapons discovered around the surround area, it was going to be an interesting week.