My name is Mark Lavelle, and I'm a member of the United States S.E.A.L's
attached to the global anti-terrorist organization Counterstrike. I was
recently sent on a mission with Joel Davis (another S.E.A.L) and two German
G.S.G-9 operatives (Gunther Kroeg and Harl Schoelburg) to locate and
destroy a small group of terrorists who had set-up camp within an isolated
farm-house (surprise surprise) and were holding out against local law
enforcements. It was to be my first outing for Counterstrike, as I had only
been forwarded to join a few weeks ago, so I was understandably excited and
tense. Joel was telling me not to be so hyped about it, but I couldn't help
it.
We were dropped at the police checkpoint, decked out with gear and ammo. The helicopter flew in low over the compound, and we attracted some fire from within the house, but we were through too quickly to get hit. The police had trapped the terrorists within the farm-house and a few surrounding out-buildings, but didn't have the man-power or experience to take the last few out. We were briefed quickly, most of the pertinent details having been taken care of earlier en- route, and were updated to the situation. Two more of the terrorists were down, leaving an approximate amount of ten still inside. We quickly made our way to the front line, carrying our equipment along. We all carried varied weapons. Me, I lugged a M-239 up there. Yep, big guns are the go for me. Joel was probably the best shot of us, carrying a H&K G3, with sniper scope and a laser scope. Gunther went the good old Steyr AUG, and Harl carried a FN P90. We all carried the standard back-up, the U.S.P pistol, and had full Kevlar body armour, plus assorted flash bang and smoke grenades.
We finally reached the entrance to the farm. The last of the police crouched behind cover here, armed with a variety of shotguns and pistols, although two carried H&K MP-5's. They waved us through, and we carefully took up positions. The terrorists were known to have at least one sniper rifle, along with two other rifles, either AK-47's or AK-74's. Other weapons were sub-machine guns and pistols. Joel scanned the front windows through his scope, sweeping back and forth across them for any sign of movement. After a few seconds, he signaled for Harl to move up and take position near the nearest out building, a small shed, twenty metres away. Might not sound very far away, but when your in this situation, it's long enough. I still had my M-239 cradled against my chest when Joel signaled me to move up, and I kept it there until I slammed into the ground near the shed, thanking God even as I landed. The plan was to neutralize each building as we came to it, and proceed on. With me and Harl there, we quickly burst into the empty shed. Kind of a anti-climax. Still, we'd cleared one building. Gunther was the next to join us, and he quickly set himself to cover Joel, peering through the AUG's weaker scope for movement up ahead.
The next building was a large red barn. Why are they always red? Still, we played it the same way we did before, one man at a time. This time, though, someone was waiting for us. Or, they would have been, if it weren't for the bullet hole that seemed to have blown out most of their skull. It looked like one of the terrorists, as reports had indicated that the owners of the farm-house were on vacation interstate. We checked the body for signs of life (even though he was patently dead) and then kept moving. By now, only a low iron shed and another red barn remained for us to clear, and we still hadn't been shot at.
The iron shed was next. When I got there, Harl motioned me over to were he was crouched. I could hear voices, and he confirmed it. We motioned for Gunther to hurry, and prepared to burst in. It sounded like only two people, so we pulled out a single flash bang. On the count of three, Gunther hurled open the door, and I chucked in the grenade. Covering my eyes, I brought my beloved M-239 into position at my shoulder, and burst through behind Harl as the light faded. Three terrorists sat around a table, guns in pieces, clutching at their eyes and screaming. One had a pistol in his hand, but was just waving it around. I dropped him with a burst to his chest, and held my gun steady at the other two men. So what, he'd been helpless. He was a terrorist, and the penalty for terrorism is death. The other two men started at the gun shots, and stopped screaming for a second, before they went diving for the floor, going for the pistols tucked into their waists. Harl got one with another burst, while Gunther got the other with a nice head shot. Still, now they new we were here, as was evidenced when I heard Joel open up on the farm house. I ran to the door, and cautiously looked outside. One terrorist lay on the back porch, prone, while another was scrambling back inside the house. Two more were leaving the last barn. I hit the deck, and let off a sustained burst, almost putting out my shoulder joint. Both of the men jittered and jerked, then hit the ground full of lead. Six down and four to go. Harl and Gunther took off for the last barn, just to okay that no-one else was hiding in their, while Joel and I covered them. They'd reached the barn door, and were flinging it open, when Gunther suddenly spun around, his arm erupting into a bloody mess. Harl dragged him inside, and I put twenty rounds into the window where a rifle muzzle stuck out. Needless to say, the rifle was quickly withdrawn from the window, with a loud cry of pain.. Me and Joel looked at each other, and I picked myself up. Looking back at him, I waited for the signal, and when it came, I ran like hell. I hit the porch hard, slamming the door and diving through. I actually slide along the floor right past two terrorists, who recoiled as I blew them away. I stopped against a wall, and got up into a crouch. I was going to have to apologize to the owners, for getting so much gore all over their kitchen. I made my way back to the door, and motioned Joel to move it up. There were at least two left, according to the intelligence, and probably both upstairs. I moved out of the kitchen, and into the living room. No one there. Into the hallway. Footsteps up stairs. I stopped, and waited at the base of the stairs. Joel came around behind me, and I watched as he slowly crept up the stairs. He fired, and I jumped, and I heard a loud thud just above me. I rushed up behind him, and we both leapt into the bedroom where the sniper had been before. He was in no condition to fight, seeing as how the bullets seemed to have ricocheted all over the place, several inserting themselves all over his body. In fact, it seemed he was breathing his last breath. Joel walked up to him, checking him over.
"Anymore of you?" he asked. The wounded man shook his head carefully, blood flecks from two scalp wounds still splattering everywhere. Joel nodded, and grabbed his radio.
"Situation over. Nine targets dead, one wounded. One C-T injured. Requesting medical assistance urgent. Over" he said, and listened to the return squawk. I took the wounded man's weapons, then walked down the stairs and outside. Dropping the guns, I was surprised to see my hands shaking. Joel came up behind me, and sitting on the ground.
"See. Told you it was nothing special."
Bastard.
We were dropped at the police checkpoint, decked out with gear and ammo. The helicopter flew in low over the compound, and we attracted some fire from within the house, but we were through too quickly to get hit. The police had trapped the terrorists within the farm-house and a few surrounding out-buildings, but didn't have the man-power or experience to take the last few out. We were briefed quickly, most of the pertinent details having been taken care of earlier en- route, and were updated to the situation. Two more of the terrorists were down, leaving an approximate amount of ten still inside. We quickly made our way to the front line, carrying our equipment along. We all carried varied weapons. Me, I lugged a M-239 up there. Yep, big guns are the go for me. Joel was probably the best shot of us, carrying a H&K G3, with sniper scope and a laser scope. Gunther went the good old Steyr AUG, and Harl carried a FN P90. We all carried the standard back-up, the U.S.P pistol, and had full Kevlar body armour, plus assorted flash bang and smoke grenades.
We finally reached the entrance to the farm. The last of the police crouched behind cover here, armed with a variety of shotguns and pistols, although two carried H&K MP-5's. They waved us through, and we carefully took up positions. The terrorists were known to have at least one sniper rifle, along with two other rifles, either AK-47's or AK-74's. Other weapons were sub-machine guns and pistols. Joel scanned the front windows through his scope, sweeping back and forth across them for any sign of movement. After a few seconds, he signaled for Harl to move up and take position near the nearest out building, a small shed, twenty metres away. Might not sound very far away, but when your in this situation, it's long enough. I still had my M-239 cradled against my chest when Joel signaled me to move up, and I kept it there until I slammed into the ground near the shed, thanking God even as I landed. The plan was to neutralize each building as we came to it, and proceed on. With me and Harl there, we quickly burst into the empty shed. Kind of a anti-climax. Still, we'd cleared one building. Gunther was the next to join us, and he quickly set himself to cover Joel, peering through the AUG's weaker scope for movement up ahead.
The next building was a large red barn. Why are they always red? Still, we played it the same way we did before, one man at a time. This time, though, someone was waiting for us. Or, they would have been, if it weren't for the bullet hole that seemed to have blown out most of their skull. It looked like one of the terrorists, as reports had indicated that the owners of the farm-house were on vacation interstate. We checked the body for signs of life (even though he was patently dead) and then kept moving. By now, only a low iron shed and another red barn remained for us to clear, and we still hadn't been shot at.
The iron shed was next. When I got there, Harl motioned me over to were he was crouched. I could hear voices, and he confirmed it. We motioned for Gunther to hurry, and prepared to burst in. It sounded like only two people, so we pulled out a single flash bang. On the count of three, Gunther hurled open the door, and I chucked in the grenade. Covering my eyes, I brought my beloved M-239 into position at my shoulder, and burst through behind Harl as the light faded. Three terrorists sat around a table, guns in pieces, clutching at their eyes and screaming. One had a pistol in his hand, but was just waving it around. I dropped him with a burst to his chest, and held my gun steady at the other two men. So what, he'd been helpless. He was a terrorist, and the penalty for terrorism is death. The other two men started at the gun shots, and stopped screaming for a second, before they went diving for the floor, going for the pistols tucked into their waists. Harl got one with another burst, while Gunther got the other with a nice head shot. Still, now they new we were here, as was evidenced when I heard Joel open up on the farm house. I ran to the door, and cautiously looked outside. One terrorist lay on the back porch, prone, while another was scrambling back inside the house. Two more were leaving the last barn. I hit the deck, and let off a sustained burst, almost putting out my shoulder joint. Both of the men jittered and jerked, then hit the ground full of lead. Six down and four to go. Harl and Gunther took off for the last barn, just to okay that no-one else was hiding in their, while Joel and I covered them. They'd reached the barn door, and were flinging it open, when Gunther suddenly spun around, his arm erupting into a bloody mess. Harl dragged him inside, and I put twenty rounds into the window where a rifle muzzle stuck out. Needless to say, the rifle was quickly withdrawn from the window, with a loud cry of pain.. Me and Joel looked at each other, and I picked myself up. Looking back at him, I waited for the signal, and when it came, I ran like hell. I hit the porch hard, slamming the door and diving through. I actually slide along the floor right past two terrorists, who recoiled as I blew them away. I stopped against a wall, and got up into a crouch. I was going to have to apologize to the owners, for getting so much gore all over their kitchen. I made my way back to the door, and motioned Joel to move it up. There were at least two left, according to the intelligence, and probably both upstairs. I moved out of the kitchen, and into the living room. No one there. Into the hallway. Footsteps up stairs. I stopped, and waited at the base of the stairs. Joel came around behind me, and I watched as he slowly crept up the stairs. He fired, and I jumped, and I heard a loud thud just above me. I rushed up behind him, and we both leapt into the bedroom where the sniper had been before. He was in no condition to fight, seeing as how the bullets seemed to have ricocheted all over the place, several inserting themselves all over his body. In fact, it seemed he was breathing his last breath. Joel walked up to him, checking him over.
"Anymore of you?" he asked. The wounded man shook his head carefully, blood flecks from two scalp wounds still splattering everywhere. Joel nodded, and grabbed his radio.
"Situation over. Nine targets dead, one wounded. One C-T injured. Requesting medical assistance urgent. Over" he said, and listened to the return squawk. I took the wounded man's weapons, then walked down the stairs and outside. Dropping the guns, I was surprised to see my hands shaking. Joel came up behind me, and sitting on the ground.
"See. Told you it was nothing special."
Bastard.