Chapter has been updated as of 2016
X Tim X
When we arrived at the command tent, the meeting hadn't started yet. We were in time to see the recruits, though, and there were seventeen of them in all. I was pretty sure one bomber took seven people, so that meant about three of them were fighter pilots. They were all snotty rich kids—I could tell just by their looks. These guys really were from one of those elitist schools that threw entitled pricks into the world; that, and the fact that most schools allowed people as old as sixteen to graduate early. What a lovely addition to the equation. Bleh.
"I doubt they've even mastered the take-off and landing course," I snorted. When Sarah didn't answer, I looked over to see her staring at someone. I followed her eyes and saw she was staring at one recruit in particular.
"Damn." I shifted uncomfortably. It was the same girl we'd seen carried off earlier. She looked bruised, and her face was scarred to the point that it was hard to recognize her. "What happened to her?" I asked.
"Raiders," Kim whispered as she appeared beside us. "They caught her and…" I could hear her shudder. I actually grimaced when I got what she meant. I mean, holy fuck, how could someone get that fucked up? I reassessed my last thought—bad choice of words.
"Those raider bastards are in for a shit storm once we start the operation," I commented. Those kids may have been too scared to counter-attack on their own, though they'd probably agree with me now that they had friends on the ground. I checked the young pilots out. Most of them looked scared and uneasy, and it wasn't surprising. What says 'nice to meet you' better than starting a fight with pissed-off Marines? Some were trying to act like proper airmen, and a few looked pissed or offended. Among the pissed ones was that brat the Marine had mentioned, who was sporting a broken nose, and that girl who kicked me earlier—she had bandages around her bruised face. Her eyes briefly flickered over towards Sarah, and she scowled. They flickered to Kim, and the scowl turned into a cruel grin. Kim discreetly moved behind me. What the fuck? This is the military, not a damn high school!I shook my head. A feud between women was a destructive force, rivaled only by a hurricane.
"Sheesh, don't tell me you're going to get involved in that?" I asked Sarah. When she didn't answer, I turned my head to see her staring at the girl that had been attacked. She was transfixed, almost. I guess it was horrifying enough to cause that reaction. I gave her a light tap on the shoulder.
"Hmm?" She gave a slight jerk.
"You were spacing out," I told her.
"Oh," she answered. "Yeah..." She nodded absent-mindedly. She quickly snapped to attention when Stone showed up with Captain Brenner and Lieutenant Lin. Brenner started his speech by actually apologizing to the kids. I wasn't going to call the tank commander soft, but that was a hell of a thing to say after some of his own people had gotten hurt in the altercation. After that, he started pitching his idea to join us and the 'Air Wing', or at least help us on a planned attack against the raiders that had screwed them over.
I only followed Captain Brenner for a few moments before I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Sarah wasn't paying attention. She was staring at the injured girl. I elbowed her roughly in the side. She snapped to attention and shook her head. Having gotten her out of her trance, I tuned back in.
"We can promise you food, medicine, and shelter," Captain Brenner was saying.
"We will not force you to stay," Lieutenant Lin added, "and if you decline we will not come back for you." This visibly upset them. Rather quickly, they huddled together and started whispering.
"What the hell is there to think about?" I asked out loud. No one answered me. I looked at the two girls beside me. Kim was still hiding behind me. Sarah, on the other hand, seemed to be staring at the ground. "You okay?" I put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and blinked.
"Yeah, I'm okay." She paused for a second. "I want to do a test flight on the AH-64. We need to make sure it can fly."
"These people got tight belts, I'm not sure…" I stopped when I noticed that her eyes were closed again. One of the things a person must remember about loving someone was that you put what they wanted above your own and the others'. "Okay, we'll do the full deal," I said. "I'll 'persuade' them." I tapped my fists together to make a point. Rather than smile or thank me, she continued staring at the ground. I frowned.
"All right, we'll accept your proposal." I looked back to see the brat addressing Captain Brenner. He was trying and failing to be smug and commanding about it, because his voice still cracked. I think a fist would've corrected him pretty quickly. "I'm leading the unit." I snorted at the kid trying to act tough. Tough news, sunshine: Stone was the boss.
"We already have an Air Wing commander," Lieutenant Lin said. Stone stepped forward from where he'd been standing near the shadows. Most of the recruits except the brat and two others straightened up into a salute. To a dedicated soldier, Stone's uniform showed many things about him that deserved respect: he had the same rank Captain Brenner held, he was a Great War vet, he was an ace, he'd received numerous medals, and he'd been shot down THREE times.
"You're a veteran? What's your kill count?" one of the kids asked excitedly. At least some of them were respectful.
"Sixty-eight fighters, twenty-nine bombers, and an aircraft carrier," he replied. This drew gasps of awe from the people present, and some of the recruits started clapping. That was pretty damn impressive. I didn't even know he flew anti-ship missions. I found it hard to believe that the Air Force actually put this guy on the back-burner...
"But, you're too old to fly." The same broad that kicked me made that remark. Everyone else went silent. Even Captain Brenner perked an ear up. I wonder how the hell he dealt with all the young and inexperienced soldiers—God knew a second-line unit got a lot of them. I opened my mouth to speak. I did it because of a lot of reasons; the blatant ignorance, the disrespectful tone (I might have been a bit hypocritical there), and simply the fact that I respected the Old Man.
"Bitch," I said as I stepped forward, "I suggest you watch your mouth. You are looking at who might be the best pilot remaining in this shithole world. You're still wet, and you should be damn well thankful that you get to have him as a mentor." Behind me I was pretty sure Kim was beaming. Instead, she glared at me with absolute distaste. Yeah, thanks for the encouragement.
"Ahem." Lieutenant Lin cleared her throat. "Are you staying or not?" I watched the recruits. Two of the fighter pilots stepped up front, signaling their assent. The other fighter pilot, a snotty girl from the looks of it, rolled her eyes and joined her fellow fighter pilots. The remaining group was the bomber crews. Reluctantly, seven of them gravitated off. Okay, so we had three fighter planes and a bomber for the operation. Six of the remaining kids also walked over, although reluctantly. The last one remaining was that brat. He looked absolutely pissed.
"Wouldn't lose any sleep if they tossed him to the wolves," I muttered. Kim made a 'shhh' sound. Still scowling, he walked over to join the rest of the recruits.
"We are glad you joined us," Captain Brenner said as he nodded in approval. "We'll review the plan before we turn in for the night." He motioned to the map of the area, which showed a river just a few miles east of the air base. The plan was a classical CAS (close air support) mission. Helicopters would land infantry across the river. Then, the infantry would move through the battlefield and eliminate any isolated AAA they found. We could fight even if there was AAA, but there wasn't any harm in letting the infantry pick off what they could. After the AA was done, they'd just destroy whoever they could find
Sarah and I would be responsible for supporting the five groups of infantry that would be . The bombers would be attacking major concentrations of raider units. The fighters would have a minor offensive role. The kids' planes were F-4 Phantoms, an older plane that was often used for training. These planes, as well as Stone's F-15, could be loaded with some anti-tank ordinance, which would help out the infantry as well.
"We do not have any actionable intel on the raiders' equipment or their exact locations," Lieutenant Lin warned. "But given our previous experiences with them, they'll likely be strangely well armed. It will be up to the ground forces to provide that information and coordinate proper strikes." Going in without any information? Shit, that was exciting!
"It doesn't matter what they have," Sarah said. "We'll slaughter all of them."
"We haven't shared this news with the rest of the troops," Captain Brenner began, "but the shelter is a day away once we're over the river. It is vital that we remove the raiders." Almost everybody stood up straighter—this mission was a whole lot important. His statement struck a different chord with me, though. The shelter was only a day away? Shit, I wanted more time; I still wasn't sure if we were going to stay.
"You have my word that we'll do our part," Stone assured both Army officers. His word was worth a hell of a lot; if he said we'd get them, then that meant fried bastard was going to be served tomorrow.
"We commence the operation in fourteen hours," Lieutenant Lin said by way of dismissing us. Stone nodded and turned to our (unfortunately) new team members.
"All of you; follow me and we'll help you settle in." He led the kids out the tent. We stayed behind; there was a matter we had to ask.
"Yes?" Captain Brenner realized we hadn't moved.
"Sir," Sarah began, "we want to take the Apache for a fly, we—"
"Fuel is too scarce to waste," Lieutenant Lin said as she cut her off.
"All right, Ma'am; look," I said as I stepped up, "the whole damn tail nearly broke off from that last battle. All I have is the crew's word that it's fixed. I don't want to go out there in the morning and have the thing blow up on the runway, Lieutenant." I had no idea how far that would fly, but I went for it anyway.
"It's a necessary precaution, Lin. No one needs to die in a preventable accident." Captain Brenner nodded at us. "Permission is granted."
"Ten minutes," Lieutenant Lin warned, "and not a second more."
She's such a hard-ass.
"Thank you, Captain. Lieutenant." Sarah nodded to both officers as she turned and walked out of the tent.
"Thanks for the break, Captain. Lieutenant." I raised my hand in a sloppy salute to both officers and followed Sarah outside. "You seem upset," I said as I caught up with her. Most the camp was already turning in, so no one would hear.
"I just don't want to miss this battle."
"We won't," I said as I tried to put her mind at ease. "Tomorrow, we'll get off the ground early. There won't be any of those bastards left for the others."
X James X
A weird feeling hung in my gut as I woke up the following morning. It took me a moment to pin it down as anxiety. It wasn't the first time I'd woken up knowing I'd go into battle, but this was the first time we would be on the offensive, and with inexperienced troops. We would be the first in, and we could all die before getting our feet on the ground. It was a thought that made staying in my warm cot more appealing. I had to get up. If I didn't fight, who would pay for it? It was the civilians—the innocents who didn't deserve all this fighting.
I pushed myself up and yawned. Sam was the only one still asleep. The others must've gone out to prepare and probably would've come and got us up soon anyway. I swung my feet off the cot and stretched. I had to get ready myself.
The camp was mostly quiet; most of them wouldn't have been up yet. I wandered out of the camp to the base, and I saw all of the Battalion's aircraft moved to the runways. Sergeants Anderson and Anson were already there, discussing something with the Air Wing commander.
"Hell, I've seen those Lazurian bombers," Sergeant Anderson was saying. "They take a ton of lead to bring down, sir."
"The standard tactic is to destroy the engines," Captain Stone replied.
"Can't destroy it, disable it." Sergeant Anson was nodding. Sergeant Anderson tapped his arm for a few seconds before speaking again. "What type of ordinance you got on those planes, sir? The Phantoms were relatively new during the war, and they couldn't do shit against the Lazurian tanks at first."
"The bombs are standard AGMs. They should be able to disable any Abrams or Bradleys." Captain Stone looked at his aircraft. "The Apache has far better ground weaponry; you'll have to talk to them."
"Right; thank you for your time, Captain." They saluted each other, and the Air Wing commander left. "Come over here, Coleman," Sergeant Anson said. He didn't turn his head, probably because he sensed me already.
"Sir," I said as I straightened up.
"You think you can carry two AT-4s into battle?" Sergeant Anson asked. It seemed a random question, until I quickly realized that the only ones with adequate anti-tank warfare training were the original members of the 18th Heliborne.
"Yes sir," I said. "It might slow me down a little, though."
"We'll be moving slow anyway," he reminded me. He turned and stared out in the direction of the river. Sergeant Anderson then turned to me and said, "Stay on your toes, Coleman; these raiders are not to be underestimated, and we'll be the ones getting in the first blows."
"I know sir." I nodded.
"Well then; you'll find everyone else by the helicopter. There's a briefing in forty minutes, although we don't have a whole lot to cover." I nodded and headed off while the sergeants went off to take care of what they had to.
Just as he'd said, everyone was gathered around the one helicopter we'd need to get across the river. The trainees were gathered excitedly around it, probably eager at the prospect of going into the field again despite what had happened before. Maybe it was because they were confident; they all survived their first mission. Too much confidence wasn't a good thing, though, especially when bullets are flying.
"James." Peter saw me approach. "Sam came by a few minutes ago and I just sent someone to get you."
"Well, I'm up. Both sergeants said we got a briefing in half an hour. They seem eager." We both turned to look at the trainees.
"They are," Peter confirmed. "If these are the same raiders that the civilians are saying they are, they're still after revenge."
"If these are the same raiders, they should cool it down. God knows what they got their hands on this time."
"I wonder why they're in front of us," Peter though aloud. "Are they just picking another fight or are they blocking us from the shelter?"
"Well, they aren't going to stop us if that's the case." Peter nodded. Across that river and over those mountains was the shelter. A new permanent home, since our old one was gone. We have got to get to it.
Just then, Sam came to us, and he was shaking his head.
"Well, what is it?" I asked.
"Recruits are arguing over a call sign for the bird," Sam said as he gestured to the recruits, "a bunch of idiotic suggestions, if you ask me." The armed forces had a certain way of handing out call signs to military vehicles and aircraft, although I doubted it if the new recruits knew it. They used to be civilians, after all.
"Sir, we have an idea!" A recruit bounded up towards us. "Phoenix Twelve-One," he said excitedly. "This is the 12th Battalion, and that's the first helicopter. Plus, this unit's reborn—like a phoenix!" He was beaming as he said that last bit. I had to admit it was a pretty creative name.
"Tell you what," Sam said as he raised a finger. "If we make it back, we'll talk about it with the sergeants." The recruit nodded excitedly and went back to his friends.
"Your skin will be hung like a flag by the end of this," Peter snorted.
"And you'll have your throat slit," Sam retorted.
As they continued exchanging tirades back and forth, I couldn't help but feel easier. The fact that they could still make jokes and play around convinced me that we'd do well, even if some of us were having second thoughts about our choice to become soldiers. Just like every soldier here in the 12th, I made that choice. It was the same with the trainees in front of us, and they were actually eager to go through with it. I put the thought away as I shook myself ready.
Well, let's get this done.
X Tim X
Even if there was a base nearby, we hadn't been allowed to move in—partly because the raiders had trashed it, and partly because we wouldn't be staying long enough to set ourselves up. The Army bragged about how their tents were the ultimate shelter for a common grunt. I personally believed it was bullshit; it was still cold in the morning, even if I slept with my flight suit on. I thought it would be a slow morning, until I cracked my eyes open and saw one of the greatest sights known to man.
"Heh," I grinned. "Teasing me while I sleep?" Sarah looked back from where she was bent over while rummaging in her bag.
"You wish." She pulled out a pair of underwear and slipped them on. I yawned and got up. Kim was still sleeping peacefully. "Today's going to be big day," she said as she started pulling on her pants. While I'd been wearing the same thing for a few days now, I guess she wasn't going to do the same.
"We'll have the most kills at the end of the day," I boasted.
"Hmm." She pulled her shirt over her head. "Wake up, Kim." She prodded Kim in the stomach. The teen shifted, but did not stir.
"Wakey, wakey!" I called loudly. She blinked one eye open.
"Did you get any sleep last night?" Sarah sounded a bit concerned.
"I just kept having bad dreams." She rolled over her bedding.
"We'll let you sleep for a little while," Sarah told her. Kim muttered thanks and ducked back under the covers. "Come on," she whispered to me.
"What the hell was that?" I stretched. This place was mostly silent.
"She's been terrified since that girl showed up," Sarah told me. "She was the victim of some pretty nasty pranks, even stuff that didn't happen to me." I had to stretch my ears to hear the last part. With her, uh, 'problem', Sarah had been a prime target at the orphanage. Some of the pranks made her break down completely. The first assault charge on my juvenile record was on someone who had pulled such a prank.
"'The Rubinelle armed forces is the most disciplined and professional military on the planet,'" I said, mimicking a speech the President had given during a particularly tense period a few years ago. "Professional? It's like a damn high school here!"
"They do try to recruit young people," Sarah pointed out. "Physical and mental maturity are two different things." I nodded in agreement.
"Well…" I rubbed my hands together. "I'm going to go see how far along things are prepared."
"You do that, but I need to pee." Sarah walked around to the other side of the tent. I shook my head and set off towards the base. All the kids' aircraft plus the bombers were sitting on the runway, ready to take off. They'd gotten an F-4 for Kim to use as well. Stone's more advanced plane sat at the head of the line. We'd need to move fast to get most of the kills from him.
"Hey, you!" I could tell it was aimed at me. I scowled and spun around.
"Yeah, what?" I spat. I hadn't expected turning around to face a man's chest. I stepped back; it was that big commando guy with the helicopters.
"So, flyboy, how heavily armed is that bird?" I gritted my teeth. If he thought size mattered, he clearly hadn't seen my record.
"Shit, I could sink a battleship." I puffed my chest out. It was the truth; we'd actually seen cockpit footage of a pack of helicopters sinking a battleship. I'd never attempt it myself, though; battleships had a shit ton of AAA now even though their time as flagships had passed.
"How about a War Tank?" he asked. A 'War Tank'? I gawked at him.
"You mean an Abram?" That was the heaviest tank I knew about, since the raiders used Rubinelle equipment.
"Nah, a War Tank; we came across one a few days ago." What the fuck was he going on about?
"Look, dude; I don't know anything about a 'War Tank'. I know how to knock out an Abram and a T-55, though." He frowned.
"When you see one, aim for the front. You have to knock out the five cannons." He walked off. I stared after him in confusion. What the hell did I just hear? Five cannons? While I preferred to relax a bit before a combat mission, I had to check out what the fuck did he meant. The key to being a successful combat pilot was in knowing all threats—that much I remembered from OCS. I spotted a group of Marines standing near one of the Chinooks. Judging by the sloppy paint job they'd given it, it was for their company.
"Hey, leathernecks!" I called as I walked up. They got all defensive.
"What? You think you're better than us, flyboy?" One of them met me in the middle.
"Hey asswad, I could floor you in a moment's notice." I didn't flinch. I'd fought in enough fights. "Just answer my fucking question: what's all this rambling about a 'War Tank'?" They all recoiled at the mention of it. Okay, so this was something to actually worry about.
"Wait, you think you can take one out with that helicopter?" one of them asked hopefully.
"I don't even know what 'it' is." Were these people fucking stupid?
"It's this giant tank, man, five stories high." One made a motion with his hands.
"Has five giant cannons on the front." Another held up his fingers.
"There's a giant chain gun of top, too." They all grimaced.
"We lost a lot of tanks that day." Another one, their leader I presumed, stepped forward. I scratched my chin. Five cannons and a chain gun?
"Where the fuck does something like THAT come from?" I couldn't imagine any tank being that destructive.
"Secret government project; they looted some research facilities or something," a Marine said.
"Bullshit." Another waved a finger at him. "Only the Lazurians make something like that. They're supplying the raiders to keep us down." I shook my head. I wasn't about to get caught in this conspiracy bullshit.
"Whatever. If I see one, I'll knock it out." I paced back towards the helicopter.
"Good luck, flyboy," they called. My brain was trying to diagnose this information. I'd heard some crazy shit in my life, but a giant tank? It sounded like something from a sci-fi war film. What did it matter, anyway? The Apache was a flying tank destroyer; we could take out anything. As soon as I got back to the hangar, I paused when something caught my eye.
Now, what do we have here? I stared across. Sarah was sitting on an oil barrel and talking with that girl that got gang-raped. Judging by her expression and bodily gestures, she seemed to be talking gently, which was actually pretty rare unless she was discussing something sensitive. The other girl had her head down, nodding yes or no every few seconds. Interesting,I thought. To intrude, or not to intrude?
"You know that chick?" a voice asked. I turned to see one of the younger bomber crew members watching the sight with equal curiosity.
"Yeah; what of it?" I said as I narrowed my eyes.
"Jane hasn't spoken to anyone in days. I have no idea how she's getting her to talk." He looked at Sarah as if she was an alien.
"Yeah; well, the bond between women is one of life's mysteries." I shrugged. "How old are you, anyway?"
"I'm sixteen for another month," he replied smugly. I snorted.
"You're wet behind the ears; don't go parading around. Without us, you're just a bunch of scared kids." I'd never been that cocky; I knew my limits, but the kid rubbed me off in a bad way.
"Not the social type, are you?" He shrugged and walked off.
"Kids," I muttered. Numbers weren't everything.
"Have you seen my other pilot?" Stone had somehow come up to me without warning.
"Kim? She's probably sleeping. Had nightmares or some shit."
"Do you have any explanation for her behavior?" Stone asked. Well, at least she had the common sense not to bother him with such a cliché problem.
"Just some teenage girl junk; tell me something, Old Man, how the hell do you deal with all these kids that come through the Air Force?"
"We try to prove to them how serious the matter is. I myself am not always satisfied with the quality of recruits sent to me."
"I don't blame you." I pulled out a cigarette I'd bummed yesterday. "Some of the stuff these kids complain about is ridiculous."
"Perspective differences between politicians and commanders are very wide." Stone nodded.
"Eh, I don't much give a damn. They can kill, can't they?"
"That's the political perspective." Stone turned towards the massive B-52s. "These recruits haven't participated in any simulation exercises, let alone actual combat."
"Take-off and landing course only?" I was surprised. These brats would be useless, or worse, hit our own guys. "Remind me to double-check the IFF. Even if they got piss-poor aim, we don't. Besides, your plane's got AGMs, right? Surely the man who sunk a carrier isn't afraid of a couple of tanks?"
"I was younger in those days," he reminded me as he walked off. A new thought rang in my mind: Stone was old; he'd be retiring any day now. Who would be the Air Wing commander, then? Before I could pursue that thought further, someone else tapped on my shoulder. Kim stood there with tired eyes, but with that same stupid smile.
"They're about to start to final briefing. Ready?"
"Kid, I came into this world fighting, and I'll go out of it fighting until the end."
X James X
The air inside the interior of the Chinook was tense. In spite of the chilly weather, I could feel myself sweating. The recruits looked just as nervous as last time; some of them had even thrown up. When you're on the offensive, you don't have time to be afraid, and Sergeant Anson drove that lesson home to the recruits a few minutes earlier. On the other hand, Sergeant Anderson was outside the helicopter, and he was still waiting for the signal to commence the operation.
Thirty-six people were in this helicopter, and I doubted I could call even half of them soldiers. Seven recruits were out of action from those traps. The two people filling in were spotters from the artillery detachment. The idea was for our artillery to pull up to the edge of the river and be able to fire across to support us. So ran the theory, anyway.
The Marines would probably have better luck. After some of the more recent battle casualties, there were about two hundred fifty of them. The helicopters were going to funnel all of them across the river, those tough-as-nails leathernecks. We were going to be shown up before the day was over—I could feel it.
"Green light! Operation is a go!" Sergeant Anderson stepped into the helicopter and took a seat. "On your toes, ladies! We're moving now." The blades above started spinning. The recruits looked sick again.
"Ain't anything none of you have been through before!" Peter tried to ease their nerves. That didn't work too well.
"I better not get back here with a bullet in my neck," one of the spotters complained.
"Stay close to these three." Sergeant Anson motioned to Peter, Sam, and me. "They have experience."
"We won't you let them get you," I assured.
"Damn well better." One of them pulled the bolt on his sub-machine gun. The helicopter lifted off the ground a little.
"You got some aspirin?" Sam asked Peter. While he was relatively okay next to the other victims, he still suffered a nasty concussion in his head. Peter reached into his bag for a bottle of pills and handed two to Sam.
"Let's go over the plan one more time, ladies." Sergeant Anderson raised a hand for silence. "We'll split into two groups and head down into the valley. Riley will lead Group A, and I'll lead Group B. Our primary target is enemy AAA—they're likely to have some by now. We take them out, and the Air Wing will give us further support. Questions?" There was silence. "Good."
"ETA, fifty seconds," Sergeant Carpenter reported.
"Steady, boys; they'll be expecting us." Sergeant Anderson tapped his gun. I glanced out the back ramp to see the rocky ground speeding past us.
"Thirty seconds." The helicopter continued moving. "Twenty." We had passed by the river below us. I started wiggling my feet. "Ten." The crew member grabbed the rope as the helicopter slowed down. We were now hovering a few meters away from the ground. This was it. "We're here, people!" Sergeant Carpenter yelled.
"Begin descent! Go, go!" Sergeant Anderson yelled. The crew member then threw down the rope and glanced at us. "Good luck!" he shouted.
Quick as a flash, I moved out from the back. With expert precision born from years of practice, I reached out and grabbed the rope. I locked my legs around and slid down. Once I hit the ground, I brought my rifle out, scanning the rocky landscape for any signs of raiders. Back at the base, with all the other guys (May they rest in peace.), we had been a highly-trained force. One minute after the rope went down, the helicopter would be flying away and we'd be on the move. It took a good two minutes in this case, mainly owing to the clumsiness of the recruits in roping down. I expected an AA tank or a missile to down the bird any minute, but by some miracle, that didn't happen. We all gathered at one spot as the helicopter flew off.
"We'll be on standby for medevac," Sergeant Carpenter radioed as he took the helo off.
"Gather round, and stay the fuck down!" Sergeant Anderson hissed. The recruits all ducked while feverishly glancing at the landscape. "All of you," Sergeant Anderson said as he pointed to a group of people, including Sam and Peter, "come with me. The rest of you follow Riley." He took his group and departed. "Remember: AA takes priority." They disappeared west over a hill.
"Move swiftly and silently," Sergeant Anson said as he quickly moved in the opposite direction. The rest of us followed. I noticed rather quickly the members of the group: most of them were the older men or the kids who were doing better in training. Sergeant Anderson had taken most the younger ones; in fact, his group had more people in it along with the spotters. This one had twelve. It was more experienced, and was also trusted with a bigger task. I felt a sense of pride that I was chosen.
We paused at the top of a hill. Sergeant Anson glanced over the edge with his scope.
"Enemy armor in front; we'll go around," he said. I carefully peered over the rise to see a lone Abram sitting on another hill not too far ahead. Maybe it was just a picket or scout? It was too early to blow our cover anyway, so we skirted around the mountain, using the shifts in the terrain to hide.
"All groups, this is Wolf Pack Five-Actual; have you found any enemy AA yet?" That was Lieutenant Lin. A chorus of 'Negative' came in from five different voices. The bastards were probably hiding further inland. "Copy that, keep searching. Wolf Pack Five-Actual out."
We crawled discreetly out of another dip and proceeded forward, scanning the landscape. There could be a sniper out there… My ear suddenly registered the sound of voices not too far ahead. We all froze and got down. Judging from the volume of the voices speaking, they didn't see us. Following Sergeant Anson's lead, we slowly crawled over the rise and peaked over the edge.
Hidden in the dip was an AN/TWQ-1 Avenger missile jeep, the mobile SAM vehicle of the Rubinelle armed forces, and another truck carrying its reloads. Three individuals were standing around the vehicle, and they were chatting casually. They sure as hell weren't soldiers. If their tattoos said anything, they were just thugs having a little fun.
"This is bullshit," one was saying. "We've been sitting here all night long."
"They'll get here, eventually. Once they're out of the way, rich pickings, brother." The second one was rubbing his hands together.
"Think there are kids in there?" the third asked. The other two looked at him with mirth. I gritted my teeth.
"Coleman, Rockefeller." Sergeant Anson beckoned to another soldier, a large man who had taken an M249 the other day. "On my lead, take them out silently." Sergeant Anson drew his knife. I took mine out as well. There was no way we could sneak up to them; we'd have to charge in. Killing a man with a knife was very different than shooting him, but I had no sympathy for these bastards and we had to kill them without making too much noise in case more were nearby.
I perched myself on the edge of the hill and wiped the sweat off my brow. I only have one chance to do this. Rather than give a signal, Sergeant Anson simply pounced. I leapt from the hill and charged down the slope. The stunned raiders didn't even have time to draw their side-arms as I head-butted one thug in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and breaking a few ribs. I pinned him to ground and shoved his hands out of the way. His eyes widened in horror as I raised my knife. He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was a sick gurgling sound as I plunged the knife into his heart. I twisted the knife and stabbed it further, and then he spat out a glob of blood and went still.
Panting, I looked over to see that Rockefeller had opted for a more brutal approach by simply ramming his victim's head into the ground with more than enough force to pound his brain to mush. Then, I noticed the squirming mass under Sergeant Anson. He'd taken that sick bastard alive.
"What were you saying about children back there?" The other soldiers came down from the rise and were glaring menacingly at him. He was sweating profusely, but he was unable to talk as his face was shoved into the dirt. Sergeant Anson grabbed his head and roughly yanked him up.
"Tell us the distribution of your forces," he demanded. The raider didn't say anything, as his eyes were darting fearfully from one angry face to another. Sergeant Anson hauled him up roughly and flung him at the missile truck. He screamed in agony and collapsed as his head busted open upon the metal. Sergeant Anson then walked over to the sobbing bastard and roughly hauled him up.
"There are only three trucks. That's all I know, I swear!" He was sobbing, and from the smell of him I knew he had pissed in his pants. No pity from us, you bastard. "No, please!" he shouted as Sergeant Anson firmly grasped his head. Crack.
"Wolf Pack-Five, this is Heliborne Group A," Sergeant Anson said as he got on his headset after the limp body fell to the ground. "We've received intel that the raiders have three mobile SAM trucks. We've captured one. Say again, there are two missile trucks remaining."
"Those are major threats to our air forces. All forces, eliminate the remaining trucks immediately," Lieutenant Lin ordered over the battalion net.
"That's going to be like finding a needle in a haystack," a Marine complained.
"Keep the radio clear, fellas." Sergeant Anderson spoke up. Meanwhile, Sergeant Anson lifted a panel off the side of the truck, revealing the electronics and radar components. With expert precision, he yanked a couple of wires out. It was enough to disable the machine for now. Once the battle was over—and if we were lucky enough—we'd be able to repair it for our use. We were making good progress. After a few minutes, we were slunk over another hill.
"Get down!" Sergeant Anson growled. We immediately hit the dirt. I scanned the horizon frantically for whatever threat he had spotted. Carefully, with the slow and seemingly motionless skill of a sniper, Sergeant Anson took aim. He moved his finger towards the trigger, and then pulled away. He took his eye off the scope. "Follow me and move quickly," he said.
"Sniper?" I asked.
"There's a camouflaged vehicle ahead," he replied. We silently followed him through the shifts in the terrain, crawling the entire way. Suddenly, our radio channel cracked to life.
"Shit; Apaches approaching the base!" It was a Marine. Apaches? The raiders didn't have any aircraft before!
"Repeat that last part," Captain Brenner demanded.
"Apaches, seven of them, moving towards the camp in attack formation!" the Marine reported frantically. What the hell was going on? Something roared overhead. I gawked in horror.
"We confirm a squadron of Sky Raiders moving to attack!" Sergeant Anson relayed what he saw. The other soldiers beside me stared at the sky in shock. The Raiders had planes. Not only that, but they must know we were across the river. How?
"Understood; we'll defend the base. Continue your mission." I took a moment to compose myself. We still had an important job, enemy aircraft notwithstanding. We crawled faster towards the vehicle.
"Halt." Sergeant Anson raised a hand. We heard the sound of a diesel engine, and we watched as an AA tank appeared from a nearby hill and advanced in front of us. Suddenly, the AA tank disappeared from view, even though we could still hear its engines. It reappeared again, and this time the landscape shifted.
"That's the camouflaged vehicle," I whispered.
"Good eye." Sergeant Anson watched the AA tank roll up and stop. One of our men readied an AT-4 from his back. We had about seven of those anti-tank rockets among all of us, counting the two on my back.
"Permission to engage, sir?" He took aim at the AA tank.
"Negative." Sgt. Anson kept staring at the camouflaged form. We weren't but maybe two hundred meters away, but we couldn't tell what it was. Suddenly, the whole landscape moved. The sound was massive and accompanied by the sound of the ground sinking an inch. I felt a large lump in my throat. As the vehicle pulled out from its camouflage, I could clearly see the monster hidden under all that netting: a War Tank.
X Tim X
Damn it. I glanced around the air base. We should've been up in the air already. The radio was on in the Apache and I could clearly hear the infantry moving up, though they'd yet to stir the hornet's nest. Why weren't we up in the air yet? It was Sarah.
She didn't make sense sometimes, like now. She was eager to get into the air, and yet she'd left almost immediately because Kim needed some work—kid was sleep-deprived. I was surprised they were still gonna send her up like that.
I paced around in an agitated matter. Finally, the two of them appeared at the gate. Kim quickly jogged over to her plane and Sarah came running up, panting slightly.
"Sorry," she exhaled.
"Should've left her," I commented. "Whatever, let's get going." I walked over to the Apache. She tapped me on the shoulder mid-way. "Yeah?" I turned around. She flung herself on me and pressed her lips to mine. Now, this wasn't the first time we'd done this—far from it actually. It's just we preferred to show affection for each other places more private, not on a runway full of people. "What the hell was that about?" I asked when she moved away. I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.
"Make sure to fly careful today," she called as she climbed up.
"I'm always careful." I grabbed the side of the Apache and hauled myself up and into the pilot seat.
"Be extra careful, then. There's something I want to tell you when we're through here."
"What?" I asked. She didn't answer as she had already plugged in her headset. "What?" I repeated. Nothing. It was pointless to try again. I wonder what it was…
"Scramble!" a voice in the radio squawked. "Enemy aircraft are inbound, everyone scramble!" Those who weren't on their planes yet learned about it from a crewmember who was wildly waving his arms around. Stone's plane was already taxiing. Usually the squadron leader was the last up, but now we had to get the best guys in the air. I guess we were starting our air support mission early.
"Old Man moves fast," I remarked, punching a few more buttons as the blades above spun up.
"Strike force is made up of Apaches and Sky Raiders," he same voice warned. 'Two bombers have also been spotted," They said these raiders didn't have AA or aircraft, and yet here they had both. Lousy dumbasses. Stone's plane was already gaining altitude as I pulled on the stick.
"Don't let us get shot down." Sarah sounded just a little worried. I bit my lip.
"I promise we'll survive and you can tell me whatever you need too." I told her gently. Then, I tuned into the Battalion's radio frequency. "All right, someone give me some fucking instructions!" I yelled.
"Just get the fuck out of here!" Control yelled. Captain Brenner must've been busy ordering other units around. I pitched the helicopter and sped forward at a low altitude, glancing up for signs of any planes.
"Enemy formation spotted; engaging targets." It was Stone's voice.
"At least they'll be out of the way for now." Sarah noticed a smoking crater in the ground. The river appeared ahead. I stopped just short of it. Sarah switched frequencies on the radio. They could deal with those planes, but we had to help out these guys on the ground. Sarah quickly relayed the information into the radar. Four blue blips popped up later.
"This is Killjoy-Three; anyone needs a hand?" Sarah asked.
"This is Group A; we have a War Tank here," a voice responded. It almost reminded me of Stone. Much to my surprise, no other requests came in. Also, this was a chance to see this feared War Tank everyone was rambling about. I flew off in that direction. "There's enemy AA nearby; we'll neutralize it for you." You think they would've mentioned that sooner. Their blip on the radar got closer before I could finally see the AA tank on the ground. It started firing. I pitched the helicopter and flew up the side while tracer rounds followed behind us.
"Is that a giant bush?" Sarah asked. There was something odd looking about the landscape below.
"Firing." a younger voice reported over the radio. Something bright streaked across the landscape and destroyed the AA tank. At the same time, something bright began firing at us. I pulled back to avoid the shots.
"That isn't a bush!" Sarah realized. "Line me up for a rocket salvo!" she called. This proved difficult, as the enemy machine gun somehow had 360 degree turning. I managed to escape the trail with an expert roll. "Firing!" Sarah called. A salvo of rockets fired down at the gun.
So, that's a War Tank, I thought. The rockets only destroyed the minigun and not much else; instead they simply burned away all the camo nets. This fucking tank was huge! It was just how the leathernecks described it.
"What the FUCK?" Judging by her reaction, I guessed Sarah hadn't got the memo.
"I'll line up in front of it; aim for the cannons," I told her. She glanced up at me, clearly unsure, and nodded. She always trusted me. Warning lights started flashing in the cockpit.
"Evade!" she called. I rolled the helicopter so violently I thought my stomach had burst. An enemy fighter jet roared close by that our helicopter was rocked by the whiplash that followed. Where the hell did they get jets? Where the hell did they get pilots?
"Get out of there!" Sarah ordered the guys on the ground. "We'll get the tank."
"Understood." The line went dead. Sarah changed frequencies quickly. I jerked my head back and forth while looking out from the cockpit for that damn plane.
"We need top cover, the enemy has fighter jets!" Sarah quickly relayed.
"Hold on; we'll be there in a minute!" It was Kim, speaking hurriedly.
"We won't last half a minute!" I yelled back in frustration. Warning lights in the cockpit flashed again. "Motherfucker!" I evaded by a few inches as the fighter jet roared back into the sky. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the War Tank hauling ass to get out of here. Then, I saw the fighter diving back down for another go. As I prepared to make a tight evasive turn, a missile suddenly came streaking from behind it and detonated on its tail. The enemy fighter went down in a blaze of smoke as Stone's Eagle and two Phantoms roared above us.
"Thanks for saving our ass," I muttered sarcastically. "You okay, Sarah?" I called. My stomach felt like hell.
"I'm okay." She gave a thumbs-up signal.
"Sorry," a male voice said, and he was shaking. One of the Phantoms above belonged to one of those kids. Eh, they may be newbies, but I'm not complaining.
"Where the hell did our prey go?" I rotated the helicopter around, trying to find it. I spotted it in the distance. The thing couldn't move very fast. "I'll bring her around front." Sarah nodded. The gunner on top of that tank had probably been killed in that last barrage, as its chain gun was silent. That left those cannons.
"Hit that son of a bitch with everything you got!" I yelled once I had the Apache lined up perfectly in front of the War Tank. Sarah punched the button. Six Hellfire missiles flew towards it—our entire weapons load. The thing was enveloped in smoke and suddenly halted. Come on… The smoke eventually cleared.
"Fuck you and your giant tank!" I yelled triumphantly. The front of the tank was deformed beyond recognition.
"War Tank is no longer a factor," I reported. This was met with cheering by what seemed like the whole damn Battalion.
"Yeah, but we're already low on munitions," Sarah warned me. I scowled. It was only one tank!
"Doesn't matter; let's just make them count," I told her. From the cockpit I could see the flashes of gunfire on the ground in the distance; now that the enemy knew that we were here, there was no need to hold back. I turned the chopper to another part of the battlefield. Those raider bastards needed to be taught a lesson.