Wars Of The Future & Beyond
Started March 16, 2004
Disclaimer: Some of the original characters on the story belong to Electronic Arts no intentional infringements of copyright are intended through their use. Some of the events and characters in the game are edited for dramatic purposes. Any resemblance to any character in the story, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Chapter 2: What Lurks Within
Southern Baghdad, Iraq, 1853 Hours DST
Among the war-ravaged ruins of the one bustling with life Southern part of Baghdad where smoldering rubble lay, shadows of unknown figures slithered in silence. Someone crept out of a burnt-out ruin of a shopping mall and slipped behind the blackened remains of a SUV.
A pair of binoculars peered out of the steel debris and focused the surroundings of its owner. He stepped out, he donned a khaki uniform with patches of mahogany and grey to blend into the desolate desert surroundings. A little badge was sewn onto his sleeve, it was none other than the rank of a major. Flash-Bang grenades and sniper magazines were clipped onto his bulletproof vest. A sleek and custom-built sniper rifle was slung around his torso. He, was Jonathan Fairfield Junior, Commander of "B" Squad in the 251st "Crash" Recon Company.
He sneaked back to his squad and started to give out instructions to his comrades, "Joe, take Charlie and Glen with you, secure that building at 8'o clock and set up your position up there." Jonathan pointed towards a surprisingly intact 4-storey building and in a matter of seconds, the three had garrisoned the building in no time.
"Derrick, Marcus, Gerald, Andrew, occupy that structure over there at 3'oclock."The five were gone in a wink of an eye and rifles were seen pointing out of the deserted supermarket.
"The rest of you, follow me." Fairfield reached for a silenced Desert Eagle in his holster which was laden with was laden with many tools essential for survival. With a Desert Eagle in hand. Fairfield and five others, including three Path finders, a Ranger and a Field Medic crossed the streets of the once busy avenues which were now enshrouded in the urban silence.
They scaled the stairs of a derelict high-rise apartment and started to mount their weapons of the worn and yellowed parapet of the rooftop. The Sun's rays reflected on Fairfield's sniper rifle when he placed it on the mount and screwed them intact. When it was done, Fairfield followed suit of the Pathfinders by replacing the usual brown camouflage netting with a grayish yellow one to reduce the chances of being discovered by the enemy and so did the Rangers and the Medic.
Seeing that all was ready in his Team Charlie he took out a radio and clicked it to call Team Alpha (Joe, Charlie and Glen), "Alpha Team, do you read?" There was a response, "Alpha Team has successfully deployed, ready for orders." Fairfield continued, "Beta, (Derrick, Marcus, Gerald, Andrew) do you read?" "Affirmative, ready for your command, Sir."
Fairfield, satisfied, clicked the radio once again, "Alright, then the target approaches, wait for my order, do not do anything unnecessary, you got me?" "Yes, Sir." Both Derrick and Joe replied in unison.
Fairfield returned the radio to the utility belt and peered through his scope of his rifle and adjusted it. He looked around. The ranger had his machine-gun pointed towards the entrance where their target, a GLA convoy under the command of Prince Kassad, was supposed to pass through and which they were supposed to ambush. "Right, thirteen infantry to assault a huge convoy with lots of vehicles...General Granger must have gone nuts." Fairfield thought to himself. He resumed his observation of his environment. The Field Medic actually doubles as a Pathfinder for he is in a Recon Company and lastly, the men whom Fairfield respected the most, Pathfinders. They sneak around places for you, look out for mines or other hidden units, and silence unwary prey, without a complaint at all. Fairfield thought that the Rangers in the whole company, especially the one alongside him, should be a Pathfinder, but still, they needed heavy firearms too.
Fairfield reached for his binoculars again and peered through it. Being a veteran of many missions had perfected the sharpness of his eyes. He saw uneven patches of land moving from the desert towards the city. It took no guessing to know what was happening, even the others were aware of it. They had eventually come...
Fairfield gave the signal for his squad to put on their newly-acquired tool of war--Infra-red goggles. These handy accessories were attachments to their Kevlar helmets which were netted and placed in the netting were usually leaves of various color depending on the environmental conditions. Fairfield also radioed the other teams to follow suit. He was right, the sights revealed some men in prone position trying to crawl to the city. "Fools." Fairfield thought. Fairfield once again reminded his men to hold their fire till the order was given.
Every step the enemy stealth infantry took, the tighter the grip of their weapons the squad became. In a matter of minutes, the unsuspecting enemy infantry reached the "Yellow" zone. The "Red Zone' was when Fairfield gave the order, but when the first wave of infantry was 100 meters away. Something unexpected which came too soon gave Fairfield quite a surprise. There were also Technicals at the area. But soon, the surprised look was replaced with a smile.
"Easy as pie." Fairfield uttered. The occupants of the Technicals are open to fire, very east to be shot at, finding the petrol tank of the vehicle was not a problem at all.
60 meters...
The Ranger started to grab his machine-gun as if it were a gold bar. The field Medic clutched to the Cross necklace and started praying.
40 meters...
Fairfield too, started praying for he was also a devout Christian. The Pathfinders started to adjust their sights.
20 meters...
Everyone braced themselves for a hardcore firefight, eager to inject bullets into the little bodies of the Rebels.
At the last few meters, Fairfield readied his shots and as a former air rifle champion in his teens, Fairfield had no problem keeping the rifle and stay calm. Now, more Camouflaged Rebels had appeared from the horizon, more than you can shake a stick at.
Cool beads of sweat started to trickle down his face. Adenine pumping in his overheated veins.
2 meters...
His eyes focused on the Rebel infantry, and he could fire 6 shots per time before cocking was needed in a magazine of 12 Silvertip bullets. He started to estimate the distance between the Rebels and the Technicals.
1 meter...
Fairfield breathed in deep, air gushed into his lungs like a blade in the dark.
0!
Fairfield ripped out the radio and yelled, "Open Fire!" Blazes of gunfire blew from B Squad's hideouts. The first among the cloaked men met death in an instant. He dropped his cloak and knelt down on the asphalt. His black uniform lined with Green ammo belts and masked face was revealed. The bloodied green beret had proved him as the GLA's Rebel and he had traces of Pink on his sleeves. He was none other than a Stealth Rebel under the command of Prince Kassad, a terrorist who is infamous for his sneaky traps and snares.
One by one, the first wave of Prince Kassad's minions fell dead, their minds swirling into eternal darkness as their uniforms were stained in bright crimson. The dead Rebels were never to stir again, they just lay there, slain as blood slowly and steadily trickle down the dusty roads which were blown up by recent American air-raids.
Fairfield had already taken away six men's lives, meaning that his bullets were well-spent. The Pathfinders were silently taking out more Rebels while the three Rangers in the squad went trigger-happy with their silenced machine-guns. The Rebels cried out in anguish as they fell to the ground, blood was everywhere, and Fairfield knew that he and his men had the upper hand.
But the tables have turned. A RPG trooper riding in a Technical which came in the middle of the fight spotted Team Beta in the garrisoned supermarket. He shrieked and pointed there and cried in an Arabic language. But everyone knew that he was disclosing the location of Team Beta. One of Team Alpha's men, sensing the potential danger, killed him in an instant with his silenced machine-gun. The RPG Trooper never spoke a word again.
But it was too late, it had attracted the attention of some of the Rebels and RPG Troopers. They regained their wits and seized the chance to open fire at the supermarket. Fairfield cried out in grief as an Armor- Piercing RPG Rocket crashed through the cracked glass and exploded on impact when it found its target somewhere inside, killing Derrick and Gerald in an instant. Marcus was silenced as a bullet slammed into his lungs, causing him to be knocked back in pain, he eventually died of inability to breathe as his left lung was collapsed due to the bullet which somehow found its way through the tough bulletproof vest. Andrew went out of the building with both hands raised high up in the air, his whole head was bloodied due to the rocket attack but the GLA, being merciless to the Americans, who had claimed many of their brothers' lives, a Rebel without affection and grudgingly shot him in the gut. Andrew's body jerked violently as three bullets hit his body, he crumpled to the ground and breathed his last.
Fairfield, angered by his comrades' deaths, fired his sniper rifle with vengeance to the Rebel who shot both Marcus and Andrew, and also had a head shot of the RPG Trooper who had killed Derrick and Gerald. Fairfield was grieved to see the smart American Uniform being drenched in blood. But was proud that the soldiers of Team Beta had died for the country.
Now that B Squad had lost team Beta, the man count had been reduced from thirteen to 8. It was now a fight to the death. But the worst has yet to come. The rest of the convoy, a huge number of Scorpion, Marauder Tanks and fifteen SCUD Launchers have arrived. They immediately opened fire at the stronghold Team Alpha was in and Glen was killed in the opening salvo. There is now no hope of destroying the convoy for there was too little men to take out about a total of 1,550 cutthroats. The odds were too great, even for the best of the elites in the American Army, but Fairfield and his comrades continued to slaughter more of the Rebels.
Suddenly, one of the Pathfinders next to Fairfield fell dead. His body lying spread-eagled on the cement floor, mouth agape and a clean shot on a chest, exactly where his heart was. In a few seconds, the Ranger fell dead too, he slumped towards his machine-gun and leant on it like a pillow.
Fairfield strained his eyes to look for the sniper when the Field Medic started to attempt in desperation to extend the life of another Pathfinder whose neck had been gazed by a bullet. And this, was the first time he met his match on the battlefield; a slightly bearded man with a white turban and white satin robes with a brown cloak and a maroon scarf around his neck, carrying an outdated Soviet Sniper Rifle Model dating back to the 80's.
Fairfield gasped, it was none other than the legendary Jarmen Kell, "So, these men were led by him...But why did he take his time to kill us?" Fairfield thought. He regained his senses and called on his radio, "Team Alpha! We are zeroed, you are to bail out! Team Alpha! Do you read!?"
It was too late, a Scorpion Tank launched a Scorpion Rocket into Team Alpha's Position, killing Joe and Charlie in its wake.
Now Fairfield , a Field Medic and Two Pathfinders were all that was left of the squad. There was no other alternative. "Bail out!" yelled Fairfield to the already demoralized remnants of B Squad. They hurriedly dashed down the stairs onto the GLA occupied streets of Southern Baghdad.
Being now stranded in enemy territory, there was no use to hide and snipe anyone for the GLA had already brought in seven Radar Vans. To conserve stamina in order to run lightly and quickly, Fairfield had no other choice but to half-heartedly discard his Sniper Rifle, his most valued possession which had helped him in many missions. Fairfield dashed out his Desert Eagle and replaced his silencer with a flash-hider.
Now there is one objective in the remaining B Squad soldiers' minds, which is to get out of enemy-invaded territory alive, and in one piece...\
From the top of another high-rise, Jarmen sneered at the American's pathetic attempt to escape alive. He took another aim and bang, the Field Medic was dead in a second.
Fairfield was desperately trying to revive the medic but to no avail. He left the corpse behind after salvaging his medic kit and 9mm pistol and ammo. He rejoined the remaining Pathfinders to run to freedom...
Jarmen took another shot and this time, one of the Pathfinders crumpled to the ground immediately. Fairfield was in tears. He shook the Pathfinder vigorously but nothing could be done to bring him back to life again. He said a little prayer and went on. Jarmen peered through his scope once and again and aimed for the Pathfinder's left leg...Another successful shot, and the Pathfinder started limping on after staggering to the rough gravel. Jarmen launched another bullet into Fairfield's leg too, but both the Pathfinder and Fairfield limped across the streets while the Radar Vans were desperately trying to spot them-Only Jarmen could see them very well.
Seeing the Fairfield and the Pathfinder helping each other to inch towards freedom, Jarmen was astonished at their willing spirit to stay alive and he thought to himself, "Hmm...these two have a strong will...Maybe for once I would let them live...We will, meet them on the battlefield again..."
Jarmen held up his radio and clicked it, "Brothers, leave them alone, they are defenseless and we do not obliterate helpless people, do we? Let's leave."
Fairfield was surprised that the convoy had started to head west. Maddened by rage, he fired his Desert Eagle at a departing Marauder Tank. By the end of the battle, only a badly injured Pathfinder and Fairfield were all that was left in the second-best squad of the Recon Company. The desolate streets were now littered with many corpses belonging to the GLA and eleven belonging to the patriotic American soldiers...
Too tired to do anything else, the Pathfinder, Fredrick, took out his canteen and had a few gulps of water. Fairfield injected some morphine into Fredrick's thigh to relieve the pain which was surging through his leg due to Jarmen's bullet and partially due to an exploded tank shell of another Scorpion Rocket. Fairfield trudged to an unmanned Technical and sat at the cargo area where a dead machine gunner lay by the soldered SMG40 Machine- gun.
He looked towards the 2nd lieutenant and said in a soft tone and raspy voice due to the frequent shouting, "Lieutenant?"
The lieutenant looked up, "Yes, Sir?"
Fairfield started, "You always know me as a Major, Lieutenant?"
"Do you feel saddened by the deaths of our comrades, Lieutenant?"
Tears start to well up in the Lieutenant's eyes, "Yes, I do, Sir."
"Why?"
"Because...Because Glen and Andrew were my friends since grammar school..." The lieutenant's speech was broken up by uncontrollable sobs.
Fairfield went over and comforted the Lieutenant after sitting down beside him on the stairway leading to a door at a private estate. "Go ahead, cry as much as you want, men do cry sometimes..." He passed a white handkerchief to Fredrick. "Once, my family died in a tragic road accident on the way to a family trip to Daytona Beach...None of them survived, I broke my left arm...From then, I lived with my uncle till today..."
Fredrick looked up towards Fairfield. "You know, losing someone you treasure most is hard, especially when more than one of them die at the same time...It's hard, I know, but when you go on, you will have to live your life with it. You see, when we pass away, we will be in heaven along with our loved ones for eternity, and that is worth the wait..."
The dark look in Fredrick's was gone in a flash, a smile soon broke out of his dust-covered lips.
"Oh, and you have always known me a Major, right?"
"Yes, Sir."
"When we return to Delta HQ, do not go about telling everyone that I am now a colonel."
"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"
"Go, ahead."
"Thank you, sir... Is this a joke or is it really true? Sir?"
Fairfield went silent, he took off his former major military uniform and there it was, a colonel's uniform. Fredrick had a great shock.
Actually, I was a lieutenant colonel, demoted for time being and back again as a colonel recently... You see, sooner or later, I will be a brigadier general because...I have been elected by the other American Generals to be... An American Stealth General to match the GLA's Prince Kassad."
The Pathfinder was still as shell-shocked as ever.
"Oh, actually, General Granger promised that those who come back alive will be promoted by a rank... So, congratulations...1st Lieutenant."
"The look of shock lasted for a while longer and soon, a smile broke out of the dusty and perspiration-drenched face.
"Thank you, Sir."
"No problem."
Soon, a low and monotonous hum of a vehicle engine was heard. Fairfield and Fredrick sprang up with difficulty due to the injured legs. Fairfield took out a pair of binoculars and saw something he never imagined. The blue streaks on the vehicle seemed to look familiar...It's an American Humvee!
Fairfield and Fredrick waved in happiness of the oncoming vehicle. The Humvee came to a halt; a blond-haired Ranger who was behind the wheel stuck his head out of the window and was to see Fairfield and Fredrick. He turned towards his companions and attempted to catch their attention.
"Hey! Look who's here!"
Everyone turned their attention to Fairfield and Fredrick, shocked till their skin colors went as white as sheet, speechless and in a way, overwhelmed. The Ranger/ Driver double who wore polarized glasses gazed at the two confused men in an uncomfortable way and started to shed the light of realization upon the two confused men, "You see, we were sent here to get recon because the superiors thought you were all dead, Sir. But we found you two after discovering the dead bodies of your comrades..."The Ranger could not be able to find more words to say because of Fairfield and Fredrick's expatriated looks.
Fairfield looked at the Ranger in a weird manner, and the Ranger seemed to fiddle with his fingers in nervousness when he had an eye to eye contact with who he thought was a major, and he himself, being a mere 3rd sergeant.
"Do you have any medics in your Humvee?" asked Fairfield and the 3rd Sergeant broke out in cold sweat.
"Oh, yes we do...Please hold on...Leon! Jerome!"
Two medics sleeping next to each other of the lightly-armored Humvee sprung up from their naps. He saw Fredrick's' bleeding thigh and soon started to attend to it after taking their medic kits and exiting the vehicle. The other medic started to bandage Fairfield's shin after injecting some morphine into his leg.
Finally, relieved from the pain, Fairfield asked the 3rd sergeant a little favor, "Won't mind my entering into your Humvee, would you?"
"No, Sir..." stammered the Ranger who regretted his behavior earlier. And so entered the two Pathfinders into the Humvee.
"Let's get out of here, I have had enough. Oh, and it seems that we are going to give our Granger a little surprise." muttered Fairfield as he slowly and silently saluted towards the directions of the lifeless bodies of his late comrades within the spoils of the battle from the machine-gun post as the Humvee of E Squad brought them out of the ripped-apart battle field slowly and in silence towards the evening sun which was slowly sinking towards the horizon...
Started March 16, 2004
Disclaimer: Some of the original characters on the story belong to Electronic Arts no intentional infringements of copyright are intended through their use. Some of the events and characters in the game are edited for dramatic purposes. Any resemblance to any character in the story, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Chapter 2: What Lurks Within
Southern Baghdad, Iraq, 1853 Hours DST
Among the war-ravaged ruins of the one bustling with life Southern part of Baghdad where smoldering rubble lay, shadows of unknown figures slithered in silence. Someone crept out of a burnt-out ruin of a shopping mall and slipped behind the blackened remains of a SUV.
A pair of binoculars peered out of the steel debris and focused the surroundings of its owner. He stepped out, he donned a khaki uniform with patches of mahogany and grey to blend into the desolate desert surroundings. A little badge was sewn onto his sleeve, it was none other than the rank of a major. Flash-Bang grenades and sniper magazines were clipped onto his bulletproof vest. A sleek and custom-built sniper rifle was slung around his torso. He, was Jonathan Fairfield Junior, Commander of "B" Squad in the 251st "Crash" Recon Company.
He sneaked back to his squad and started to give out instructions to his comrades, "Joe, take Charlie and Glen with you, secure that building at 8'o clock and set up your position up there." Jonathan pointed towards a surprisingly intact 4-storey building and in a matter of seconds, the three had garrisoned the building in no time.
"Derrick, Marcus, Gerald, Andrew, occupy that structure over there at 3'oclock."The five were gone in a wink of an eye and rifles were seen pointing out of the deserted supermarket.
"The rest of you, follow me." Fairfield reached for a silenced Desert Eagle in his holster which was laden with was laden with many tools essential for survival. With a Desert Eagle in hand. Fairfield and five others, including three Path finders, a Ranger and a Field Medic crossed the streets of the once busy avenues which were now enshrouded in the urban silence.
They scaled the stairs of a derelict high-rise apartment and started to mount their weapons of the worn and yellowed parapet of the rooftop. The Sun's rays reflected on Fairfield's sniper rifle when he placed it on the mount and screwed them intact. When it was done, Fairfield followed suit of the Pathfinders by replacing the usual brown camouflage netting with a grayish yellow one to reduce the chances of being discovered by the enemy and so did the Rangers and the Medic.
Seeing that all was ready in his Team Charlie he took out a radio and clicked it to call Team Alpha (Joe, Charlie and Glen), "Alpha Team, do you read?" There was a response, "Alpha Team has successfully deployed, ready for orders." Fairfield continued, "Beta, (Derrick, Marcus, Gerald, Andrew) do you read?" "Affirmative, ready for your command, Sir."
Fairfield, satisfied, clicked the radio once again, "Alright, then the target approaches, wait for my order, do not do anything unnecessary, you got me?" "Yes, Sir." Both Derrick and Joe replied in unison.
Fairfield returned the radio to the utility belt and peered through his scope of his rifle and adjusted it. He looked around. The ranger had his machine-gun pointed towards the entrance where their target, a GLA convoy under the command of Prince Kassad, was supposed to pass through and which they were supposed to ambush. "Right, thirteen infantry to assault a huge convoy with lots of vehicles...General Granger must have gone nuts." Fairfield thought to himself. He resumed his observation of his environment. The Field Medic actually doubles as a Pathfinder for he is in a Recon Company and lastly, the men whom Fairfield respected the most, Pathfinders. They sneak around places for you, look out for mines or other hidden units, and silence unwary prey, without a complaint at all. Fairfield thought that the Rangers in the whole company, especially the one alongside him, should be a Pathfinder, but still, they needed heavy firearms too.
Fairfield reached for his binoculars again and peered through it. Being a veteran of many missions had perfected the sharpness of his eyes. He saw uneven patches of land moving from the desert towards the city. It took no guessing to know what was happening, even the others were aware of it. They had eventually come...
Fairfield gave the signal for his squad to put on their newly-acquired tool of war--Infra-red goggles. These handy accessories were attachments to their Kevlar helmets which were netted and placed in the netting were usually leaves of various color depending on the environmental conditions. Fairfield also radioed the other teams to follow suit. He was right, the sights revealed some men in prone position trying to crawl to the city. "Fools." Fairfield thought. Fairfield once again reminded his men to hold their fire till the order was given.
Every step the enemy stealth infantry took, the tighter the grip of their weapons the squad became. In a matter of minutes, the unsuspecting enemy infantry reached the "Yellow" zone. The "Red Zone' was when Fairfield gave the order, but when the first wave of infantry was 100 meters away. Something unexpected which came too soon gave Fairfield quite a surprise. There were also Technicals at the area. But soon, the surprised look was replaced with a smile.
"Easy as pie." Fairfield uttered. The occupants of the Technicals are open to fire, very east to be shot at, finding the petrol tank of the vehicle was not a problem at all.
60 meters...
The Ranger started to grab his machine-gun as if it were a gold bar. The field Medic clutched to the Cross necklace and started praying.
40 meters...
Fairfield too, started praying for he was also a devout Christian. The Pathfinders started to adjust their sights.
20 meters...
Everyone braced themselves for a hardcore firefight, eager to inject bullets into the little bodies of the Rebels.
At the last few meters, Fairfield readied his shots and as a former air rifle champion in his teens, Fairfield had no problem keeping the rifle and stay calm. Now, more Camouflaged Rebels had appeared from the horizon, more than you can shake a stick at.
Cool beads of sweat started to trickle down his face. Adenine pumping in his overheated veins.
2 meters...
His eyes focused on the Rebel infantry, and he could fire 6 shots per time before cocking was needed in a magazine of 12 Silvertip bullets. He started to estimate the distance between the Rebels and the Technicals.
1 meter...
Fairfield breathed in deep, air gushed into his lungs like a blade in the dark.
0!
Fairfield ripped out the radio and yelled, "Open Fire!" Blazes of gunfire blew from B Squad's hideouts. The first among the cloaked men met death in an instant. He dropped his cloak and knelt down on the asphalt. His black uniform lined with Green ammo belts and masked face was revealed. The bloodied green beret had proved him as the GLA's Rebel and he had traces of Pink on his sleeves. He was none other than a Stealth Rebel under the command of Prince Kassad, a terrorist who is infamous for his sneaky traps and snares.
One by one, the first wave of Prince Kassad's minions fell dead, their minds swirling into eternal darkness as their uniforms were stained in bright crimson. The dead Rebels were never to stir again, they just lay there, slain as blood slowly and steadily trickle down the dusty roads which were blown up by recent American air-raids.
Fairfield had already taken away six men's lives, meaning that his bullets were well-spent. The Pathfinders were silently taking out more Rebels while the three Rangers in the squad went trigger-happy with their silenced machine-guns. The Rebels cried out in anguish as they fell to the ground, blood was everywhere, and Fairfield knew that he and his men had the upper hand.
But the tables have turned. A RPG trooper riding in a Technical which came in the middle of the fight spotted Team Beta in the garrisoned supermarket. He shrieked and pointed there and cried in an Arabic language. But everyone knew that he was disclosing the location of Team Beta. One of Team Alpha's men, sensing the potential danger, killed him in an instant with his silenced machine-gun. The RPG Trooper never spoke a word again.
But it was too late, it had attracted the attention of some of the Rebels and RPG Troopers. They regained their wits and seized the chance to open fire at the supermarket. Fairfield cried out in grief as an Armor- Piercing RPG Rocket crashed through the cracked glass and exploded on impact when it found its target somewhere inside, killing Derrick and Gerald in an instant. Marcus was silenced as a bullet slammed into his lungs, causing him to be knocked back in pain, he eventually died of inability to breathe as his left lung was collapsed due to the bullet which somehow found its way through the tough bulletproof vest. Andrew went out of the building with both hands raised high up in the air, his whole head was bloodied due to the rocket attack but the GLA, being merciless to the Americans, who had claimed many of their brothers' lives, a Rebel without affection and grudgingly shot him in the gut. Andrew's body jerked violently as three bullets hit his body, he crumpled to the ground and breathed his last.
Fairfield, angered by his comrades' deaths, fired his sniper rifle with vengeance to the Rebel who shot both Marcus and Andrew, and also had a head shot of the RPG Trooper who had killed Derrick and Gerald. Fairfield was grieved to see the smart American Uniform being drenched in blood. But was proud that the soldiers of Team Beta had died for the country.
Now that B Squad had lost team Beta, the man count had been reduced from thirteen to 8. It was now a fight to the death. But the worst has yet to come. The rest of the convoy, a huge number of Scorpion, Marauder Tanks and fifteen SCUD Launchers have arrived. They immediately opened fire at the stronghold Team Alpha was in and Glen was killed in the opening salvo. There is now no hope of destroying the convoy for there was too little men to take out about a total of 1,550 cutthroats. The odds were too great, even for the best of the elites in the American Army, but Fairfield and his comrades continued to slaughter more of the Rebels.
Suddenly, one of the Pathfinders next to Fairfield fell dead. His body lying spread-eagled on the cement floor, mouth agape and a clean shot on a chest, exactly where his heart was. In a few seconds, the Ranger fell dead too, he slumped towards his machine-gun and leant on it like a pillow.
Fairfield strained his eyes to look for the sniper when the Field Medic started to attempt in desperation to extend the life of another Pathfinder whose neck had been gazed by a bullet. And this, was the first time he met his match on the battlefield; a slightly bearded man with a white turban and white satin robes with a brown cloak and a maroon scarf around his neck, carrying an outdated Soviet Sniper Rifle Model dating back to the 80's.
Fairfield gasped, it was none other than the legendary Jarmen Kell, "So, these men were led by him...But why did he take his time to kill us?" Fairfield thought. He regained his senses and called on his radio, "Team Alpha! We are zeroed, you are to bail out! Team Alpha! Do you read!?"
It was too late, a Scorpion Tank launched a Scorpion Rocket into Team Alpha's Position, killing Joe and Charlie in its wake.
Now Fairfield , a Field Medic and Two Pathfinders were all that was left of the squad. There was no other alternative. "Bail out!" yelled Fairfield to the already demoralized remnants of B Squad. They hurriedly dashed down the stairs onto the GLA occupied streets of Southern Baghdad.
Being now stranded in enemy territory, there was no use to hide and snipe anyone for the GLA had already brought in seven Radar Vans. To conserve stamina in order to run lightly and quickly, Fairfield had no other choice but to half-heartedly discard his Sniper Rifle, his most valued possession which had helped him in many missions. Fairfield dashed out his Desert Eagle and replaced his silencer with a flash-hider.
Now there is one objective in the remaining B Squad soldiers' minds, which is to get out of enemy-invaded territory alive, and in one piece...\
From the top of another high-rise, Jarmen sneered at the American's pathetic attempt to escape alive. He took another aim and bang, the Field Medic was dead in a second.
Fairfield was desperately trying to revive the medic but to no avail. He left the corpse behind after salvaging his medic kit and 9mm pistol and ammo. He rejoined the remaining Pathfinders to run to freedom...
Jarmen took another shot and this time, one of the Pathfinders crumpled to the ground immediately. Fairfield was in tears. He shook the Pathfinder vigorously but nothing could be done to bring him back to life again. He said a little prayer and went on. Jarmen peered through his scope once and again and aimed for the Pathfinder's left leg...Another successful shot, and the Pathfinder started limping on after staggering to the rough gravel. Jarmen launched another bullet into Fairfield's leg too, but both the Pathfinder and Fairfield limped across the streets while the Radar Vans were desperately trying to spot them-Only Jarmen could see them very well.
Seeing the Fairfield and the Pathfinder helping each other to inch towards freedom, Jarmen was astonished at their willing spirit to stay alive and he thought to himself, "Hmm...these two have a strong will...Maybe for once I would let them live...We will, meet them on the battlefield again..."
Jarmen held up his radio and clicked it, "Brothers, leave them alone, they are defenseless and we do not obliterate helpless people, do we? Let's leave."
Fairfield was surprised that the convoy had started to head west. Maddened by rage, he fired his Desert Eagle at a departing Marauder Tank. By the end of the battle, only a badly injured Pathfinder and Fairfield were all that was left in the second-best squad of the Recon Company. The desolate streets were now littered with many corpses belonging to the GLA and eleven belonging to the patriotic American soldiers...
Too tired to do anything else, the Pathfinder, Fredrick, took out his canteen and had a few gulps of water. Fairfield injected some morphine into Fredrick's thigh to relieve the pain which was surging through his leg due to Jarmen's bullet and partially due to an exploded tank shell of another Scorpion Rocket. Fairfield trudged to an unmanned Technical and sat at the cargo area where a dead machine gunner lay by the soldered SMG40 Machine- gun.
He looked towards the 2nd lieutenant and said in a soft tone and raspy voice due to the frequent shouting, "Lieutenant?"
The lieutenant looked up, "Yes, Sir?"
Fairfield started, "You always know me as a Major, Lieutenant?"
"Do you feel saddened by the deaths of our comrades, Lieutenant?"
Tears start to well up in the Lieutenant's eyes, "Yes, I do, Sir."
"Why?"
"Because...Because Glen and Andrew were my friends since grammar school..." The lieutenant's speech was broken up by uncontrollable sobs.
Fairfield went over and comforted the Lieutenant after sitting down beside him on the stairway leading to a door at a private estate. "Go ahead, cry as much as you want, men do cry sometimes..." He passed a white handkerchief to Fredrick. "Once, my family died in a tragic road accident on the way to a family trip to Daytona Beach...None of them survived, I broke my left arm...From then, I lived with my uncle till today..."
Fredrick looked up towards Fairfield. "You know, losing someone you treasure most is hard, especially when more than one of them die at the same time...It's hard, I know, but when you go on, you will have to live your life with it. You see, when we pass away, we will be in heaven along with our loved ones for eternity, and that is worth the wait..."
The dark look in Fredrick's was gone in a flash, a smile soon broke out of his dust-covered lips.
"Oh, and you have always known me a Major, right?"
"Yes, Sir."
"When we return to Delta HQ, do not go about telling everyone that I am now a colonel."
"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"
"Go, ahead."
"Thank you, sir... Is this a joke or is it really true? Sir?"
Fairfield went silent, he took off his former major military uniform and there it was, a colonel's uniform. Fredrick had a great shock.
Actually, I was a lieutenant colonel, demoted for time being and back again as a colonel recently... You see, sooner or later, I will be a brigadier general because...I have been elected by the other American Generals to be... An American Stealth General to match the GLA's Prince Kassad."
The Pathfinder was still as shell-shocked as ever.
"Oh, actually, General Granger promised that those who come back alive will be promoted by a rank... So, congratulations...1st Lieutenant."
"The look of shock lasted for a while longer and soon, a smile broke out of the dusty and perspiration-drenched face.
"Thank you, Sir."
"No problem."
Soon, a low and monotonous hum of a vehicle engine was heard. Fairfield and Fredrick sprang up with difficulty due to the injured legs. Fairfield took out a pair of binoculars and saw something he never imagined. The blue streaks on the vehicle seemed to look familiar...It's an American Humvee!
Fairfield and Fredrick waved in happiness of the oncoming vehicle. The Humvee came to a halt; a blond-haired Ranger who was behind the wheel stuck his head out of the window and was to see Fairfield and Fredrick. He turned towards his companions and attempted to catch their attention.
"Hey! Look who's here!"
Everyone turned their attention to Fairfield and Fredrick, shocked till their skin colors went as white as sheet, speechless and in a way, overwhelmed. The Ranger/ Driver double who wore polarized glasses gazed at the two confused men in an uncomfortable way and started to shed the light of realization upon the two confused men, "You see, we were sent here to get recon because the superiors thought you were all dead, Sir. But we found you two after discovering the dead bodies of your comrades..."The Ranger could not be able to find more words to say because of Fairfield and Fredrick's expatriated looks.
Fairfield looked at the Ranger in a weird manner, and the Ranger seemed to fiddle with his fingers in nervousness when he had an eye to eye contact with who he thought was a major, and he himself, being a mere 3rd sergeant.
"Do you have any medics in your Humvee?" asked Fairfield and the 3rd Sergeant broke out in cold sweat.
"Oh, yes we do...Please hold on...Leon! Jerome!"
Two medics sleeping next to each other of the lightly-armored Humvee sprung up from their naps. He saw Fredrick's' bleeding thigh and soon started to attend to it after taking their medic kits and exiting the vehicle. The other medic started to bandage Fairfield's shin after injecting some morphine into his leg.
Finally, relieved from the pain, Fairfield asked the 3rd sergeant a little favor, "Won't mind my entering into your Humvee, would you?"
"No, Sir..." stammered the Ranger who regretted his behavior earlier. And so entered the two Pathfinders into the Humvee.
"Let's get out of here, I have had enough. Oh, and it seems that we are going to give our Granger a little surprise." muttered Fairfield as he slowly and silently saluted towards the directions of the lifeless bodies of his late comrades within the spoils of the battle from the machine-gun post as the Humvee of E Squad brought them out of the ripped-apart battle field slowly and in silence towards the evening sun which was slowly sinking towards the horizon...