MSR Tijuana/Appia Highway, 1st Reconnaissance Battalion. 6 Klicks outside the Town, Duma Mountains April 7th 2021 (1410)
"Rabbit-3 to Noble, ready talk on. I see uhh, multiple friendlies on the highway with a castle to the northwest."
Captain Walt, the Bravo Company's ever-cautious commander, warily observed from behind the relative safety of his command vehicle's door frame, parked just by the roadside in a herringbone fashion together with the rest of 1st Recon and RCT-5's convoy. He poked his head upwards just in time to see the company forward air controller – Navy Lieutenant James Macken – working together with his ANGLICO team attached to the Captain's unit with the intent of calling in a devastating round of close air support on the defenders hiding inside the castle up ahead.
The building dotted the landscape in front of them, obscuring their view of the hostile town lying abreast together with the massive plumes of smoke that continue to be vomited from the remains of the torn apart structure, the dusty horizon accompanying the ever-increasing cloud cover hovering over the previously sunny sky. Despite the initial barrage of gunfire that had been hurled by the Marines towards the castle, none of the mages nor the legionnaires currently taking refuge behind its age-old walls had any intention to lay down their arms and surrender. And now, they will pay for their show of defiance in the form of shredded organs and crushed body parts.
The obnoxious buzzing noises returned once again, emitted from one of the many radio telephones utilized by the ANGLICO team. Without any hesitation, the lieutenant immediately spun around and snatched the noisy device in a heartbeat, pressing it closer to his ears to communicate with a lone F-16 from the Air Force, his eyes meanwhile, are preoccupied with the man keenly studying the castle's wall, the venerable bricks and stones riddled with thousands of bullet holes as a reminder of the previous one-sided firefight.
"Noble to Rabbit-3, call contact on the castle northwest of friendly position, over."
"Contact"
"Your target is the group of hostile legionnaires taking cover inside the castle's compound, within the perimeter of the walls." Silence screamed into everyone's ears for a moment, as they all patiently waited for the pilot to reply to the forward air controller's request.
Soon, their prayers would be answered in the form of the radio audibly crackling, an indication of incoming traffic from the lone F-16 orbiting the battlefield from the relative safety of the cloudy sky above.
"Captured." Eavesdropping on the conversation currently unfolding just in front of his Humvee, Captain Walt merely chuckled at the pilot's remark just as the lieutenant pressed the radio once again to his ears. The fate of the castle's defenders now sealed forever.
The forward air controller officer, finally receiving a positive on the enemy location, quietly nods before keying the radio once again, as indicated by the audible crackle emitted from the device.
"Rabbit-3, you're cleared hot." Despite the occasional sporadic gunfire accompanying the mountain's breathtaking scenery, the FAC calmly spoke on the radio with an approving tone, his whispering voice barely audible from the Captain's position. Both men paid no heed to the insignificant gunshots popping audibly intermittently in the background, instead preoccupied with the inevitable forthcoming show of dazzling lights courtesy of the F-16's 1000lb Paveway laser guided bomb.
They patiently waited for the incoming explosion with held breath, their eyes occasionally darting between the cloudy heavens and the torn-apart castle. Curious glances continued to be swept across the smoky horizon, waiting in anticipation for the bomb to be dropped.
Not a moment later, a faint howl slipped into everyone's ears, inexplicably audible enough to be heard despite the sporadic firefight unfolding around them, as the occasional popping of LAV's 25mm autocannon continued to be resounded across the air in a strange cacophony.
The cautious Captain barely registered the pair of cylindrical objects passing through his line of sight, materializing out of the cloudy overcast at great speed before crashing through the bullet-ridden walls and smashing through the grassy compound of the castle with ease. Not a moment later, the two 1000lb Paveway erupted in a massive explosion simultaneously, both bombs sending shockwaves through the battlefield followed by a rain of destroyed organs and intestines completely shredded by the hail of shrapnel that followed behind them.
Everyone, who had been standing or kneeling near Bravo Company's Headquarters Section instinctively ducked down in perfect unison at the sight of the two bombs vaporizing the entire age-old structure in a pair of destructive explosions, collapsing the entire foundation of the wall and its stubborn defenders that previously had shielded the venerable castle from enemy attacks.
Captain Walt slowly poked his head up from the thinly armored door frame of his Humvee, acting as temporary protection from the shrapnel. His actions were immediately met by the sight of the forward air controller, coolly and calmly chugging down rounds upon rounds of MRE Skittles despite the shockwave that had weaved its way through the Marines' line. The company commander was clearly flabbergasted and impressed at the man's sheer obliviousness to the massive explosion that had been caused by his own hands.
He's barely able to hide away his awestruck grin from surfacing on his face, as he continues to gaze towards the serene, almost uncaring expression of the blonde forward air controller. The gold-haired man continues to stare down the smoky horizon, intermittently chugging packs worth of Skittles, his precious yet cumbersome laser designator used for airstrikes marking lying on the ground beside him. Suddenly, the sounds of finger snapping twice coming from his back brought the Captain back to reality.
The Captain swiftly spun around without missing a beat, turning his head back towards the source of the noise only to be met by First Sergeant Fellows, his hands gripping on a radio telephone.
He had come to known the man's reputation for being incompetent and half-assed courtesy of one of the many gossips that spread around like wildfires, although he can't directly voice his disapproval of his sometimes dim-witted SNCO, as evidenced by the supply problem that had been ravaging the combat effectiveness of his men. The officer's mood immediately changed at the sight, as indicated from his previously flabbergasted grin forming into a disapproving frown.
That fucking dumbass again…
"What is it?" He coldly asked the First Sergeant, his previous disapproving frown still plastered on his face. "It better be important."
The SNCO merely cleared his throat as a reply, before nodding towards the radio on the center console of the Company's Command Humvee, ceaselessly buzzing from the incoming traffic.
"Godfather wants to talk to you." With an indifferent tone within his voice, the First Sergeant promptly replied. The remark earned a less-than-pleasant reaction from the Captain, staring at him in disbelief.
"What?" Captain Walt immediately narrowed his eyes towards the man with a grimaced complexion. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Well, you see Skipper," The First Sergeant merely continued with a smug voice, undeterred by his superior's sudden chance of expression. "the battalion's commander is clearly asking for you, in case you're deaf enough to not hear the incoming traffic."
There was a fucking airstrike you fucker, of course I won't hear it. Can this fucking retard have at least one bit of common sense?
He fought the urge to lash out at the smug First Sergeant, grimacing within his mind instead. The Captain then promptly snatched the crackling radio telephone from the SNCO's hand, his action was immediately followed by him hostilely glaring at the man, maintaining a calm facade in spite of his emotion threatening to burst out.
"Dismissed." He calmly uttered the word in the direction of the First Sergeant as he politely ordered the man to leave with an emotionless yet poisonous voice. The First Sergeant, seeing this, immediately took the hint and left the area near the Command Humvee, but not before letting off one final sneer in the direction of his superior.
The officer simply waved it off with a dismissive wave from his left hand, instead preoccupied with the task at hand as he pressed the obnoxiously buzzing radio device closer to his ears to better hear whatever Godfather had to say amidst the intermittent gunfight and skirmishes occasionally erupting without any prior warning in the area of operations all around him.
"Godfather, this is Hitman Actual, send it."
"Be advised, FRAGO, Hitman Actual, we'll be pushing through the hostile town up ahead while RCT-5 finds another route to bypass it. Your company will be in the lead so stand by to move, how copy?" The raspy voice of his battalion commander resounded through the radio, and needless to say, the Captain was distraught at the order. Listening to the rest of the traffic, he immediately opened the dashboard's pouch, his hands fumbling within it before unveiling a map sheet covered in plastic coverings before promptly unfolding it on the hood of his Humvee.
He studied the map for a moment, his gloved hands tracing the plastic-covered sheet, weaving his fingers as it hovered just above the route that bypassed the town instead of the main MSR. The forward air controller, seeing the sudden change of behavior in his superior, swiftly approached him as he stealthily stole a glance from the map, worriedly eyeing his incredulous company commander currently preoccupied with perhaps another idiotic and senseless orders, which had became a tiring routine for the men inside the battalion.
"Godfather, this is Hitman Actual, there seems to be another route that bypasses the town? Requesting to simply trail behind the regimental combat team instead of going on another thunder run, over." The Captain was keen on bypassing the city, trying to debate his direct superior over the wisdom of sending an entire battalion of 400-something Recon Marines in lightly armored Humvees, in a mad dash through an hostile town crawling with cohorts worth of Saderan Legionnaires.
The blonde-haired forward air controller merely looked at the Captain, before glancing towards the crackling radio as he mouthed "The fuck?" in disbelief.
"Negative, Hitman Actual. You have your orders and you have to follow them. It's not a request break," The voice on the other side of the device sternly rejected the Captain's idea, much to the man's dismay as the radio fell silent for a moment. Captain Walt mentally sighed within his mind, before being snapped back to task at hand by the buzzing sounds indicative of incoming traffic. "be advised, Hitman will be on-point leading the battalion during the push, followed by Ajax, Razor and Centurion-1 along with H&S from behind respectively. Several LAR and tank detachments from RCT-5 will enter the town first to strongpoint intersections along the way, so watch your fires. Godfather out."
The other side on the radio promptly ended the transmission indicative by the final beep. The Captain meanwhile, quickly took the end of their conversation to jot down several dozen important notes on a sheet of paper.
"At least they had the wisdom to escort us with some armor when we push through a fucking town full of hostiles." Captain Walt quietly muttered under his breath. Based on the previous conversation, it seemed that his company, Bravo, will be leading the whole battalion followed by Alpha, Charlie and H&S. Centurion-1 will trail behind the team of POGs and rear-echelon Marines providing security for their flanks on the back.
In spite of the reassurance in the form of additional armor escort, detached from the main battleforce of RCT-5 to enter the town ahead of their lightly-armored battalion, the Captain is still distraught over the order. He angrily snatched the radio telephone from the dashboard with the intent of smashing it to pieces in anger, before finally composing himself mid-way through, calming down as he put the device back to its previous place.
A sudden slap on Captain Walt's shoulder promptly spun him around to his back, meeting the worried disposition of the company's forward air controller.
"Ya alright, Skipper?" The blonde man worriedly questioned after a moment of studying the Captain's expression. The short inquiry promptly provoked an indifferent shrug from the officer, instead of the usual, stoic disposition that had become his trademark complexion.
"Obviously, the answer is no," Captain Walt promptly replied to the question, his seemingly blank tone barely hiding his disbelief at Godfather's order. "this whole fucking battalion is filled with absolute retards from top to bottom. No wonder we kept having a shortage of batteries for our night visions and other critical supplies."
He took a moment to spit in disgust at the paved highway below his feet, before wiping his mouth off with his own wrist.
"Shit, Godfather isn't even an infantry officer, he used to be a budget analyst in the Pentagon. Now he's leading the entire 1st Recon Battalion on a wild hunt for glory and medals."
The Captain paused for a moment, letting out a single exasperated sigh. He then swept a glance at the blonde leaning on the vehicle's front bumper, allowing his lips to form into a half-smile as he nodded his head towards the forward air controller and his team.
"At least you and your guys actually know their shit." His sudden benign remark immediately produced a nervous chuckle from the forward air controller, the blonde shrugging lightly at the unexpected compliment.
"Eh, not my first time doing this kind of thing. Figured that the range is too great to be hit by anything. But still," The Lieutenant exaggeratedly bowed down towards the Captain in response, genuinely thanking him despite the mocking tone that slipped into his voice. "a compliment is still a compliment, so thank you, Skipper~."
"You do know that you look cheesy and motarded as fuck right? Doing that kind of pose?" Captain Walt lightly snorted at the sight, letting out a hearty chuckle at the grinning forward air controller.
"Exactly why I did it, Sir." With a smugful tone, the Lieutenant proudly exclaimed as he held both of his hands firmly on his hips which needless to say, earned him an affectionate audible pat on his kevlar LWH helmet.
"Yeah, whatever." The Captain merely rolled his eyes at the forward air controller's remark, proceeding to nod slightly in the direction of the blonde's ANGLICO team. "You should go back to your guys, should be moving out in about an hour or so."
For extra emphasis, Captain Walt shifted his gaze towards the smoky horizon up ahead, his head nodding towards the hostile town that they'll be pushing through later. Without any delay, the blonde immediately lowered his head and turned to look at his watch, gazing at it for a moment before he diverted his attention back to the company commander.
"Alright then, Skipper. See ya later," He shot a glance towards the darkening skies, watching for a moment as the cloudy overcast slowly began to consume the previously sunny Falmart sun before proceeding to return back to his crowds of subordinates. "looks like it's about to rain too."
With the previous back and forth settled, the Captain once again returned his attention towards the radio, snatching the device reluctantly from the Humvee's center console before proceeding to press it against his ears, keying the button indicative of the sudden buzzing.
Mistral won't like this a single bit.
Second Platoon's Position, Ahead of Bravo Company's HQ. (1435)
"Roger that, Hitman Actual. Hitman-2 out." With a final beep emitted from the radio indicative of the end of their transmission, Lt. Mistral slowly puts down the SINCGARS device back to its place on the Humvee's dashboard. The Lieutenant quietly gazed at the town with a seemingly composed face that hid his disbelief and apprehension at the previous order, his similarly aloof eyes firmly set on the small metropolis straight ahead painting the gray horizon.
After a moment of silence gazing blankly at the low-rise buildings that decorated his line of sight, Lt. Mistral promptly broke the silence by heaving out a nervous chuckle before shifting his body to face Gunny Mays, the enlisted man hunching on the steering wheel of the Humvee as he stared ahead ceaselessly. The young Lieutenant slowly allowed his lips to contort into a grim smile as he softly pats the shoulder of the Gunnery Sergeant, swiftly earning his attention.
"I think I'm having a deja vu of Italica." An audible glum chuckle accompanied Lt. Mistral's grim smile, as he turned his head towards the Gunnery Sergeant hunched on the driver's seat. "What about you, Gunny? You feeling what I'm feeling?"
"Yeah." Gunny Mays merely replied, his voice trailing off as he stared ahead into the murky sky. "At least back in Italica, it wasn't foggy or raining. I hope this shit won't affect our guys' ability to shoot or defend themselves."
Listening intently to the apprehensive remark, the Lieutenant quietly responded with a reassuring smile, his previous pat on the Gunnery Sergeant's shoulder resounding again. After a moment of eye-locking his loyal enlisted assistant with a composed complexion, Lt. Mistral suddenly swung his passenger door open which promptly broke the silence earlier, snatching the map sheet placed on the dashboard in the process.
"I'm gonna go tell Williams about this myself," Lt. Mistral remarked as he slammed the door shut from the outside. "it'd be better up close personally, so at least I can calm him down if he got pissed by this stupid fucking order."
"Whatever you think is best for the platoon, Lieutenant." Gunny Mays gazed back at the younger officer with a friendly smile and a reassuring wink. The Lieutenant immediately waved it off with a harmless shaking of his head, as he set off on a journey towards Hitman 2-1's Humvee, parked several hundred meters ahead of Lt. Mistral's vehicle in a zig-zagging herringbone fashion together with the rest of 1st Recon and RCT-5 convoy.
The darkening skies obscured by thick clouds and the sound of fires hissing originating from the ruins of the obliterated castle added themselves into the ever-growing list of things that had unnerved the young officer during his uneventful march to a Humvee belonging to one of his team leaders. The cloudy overcast and its forthcoming rain had felt like some sort of nature's warning to Lt. Mistral against entering the hostile town up ahead. But nevertheless, orders are orders, even the stupid ones.
He continued on with a heavy heart due to the nonsensical orders, his glum expression accompanying the gnawing feeling of apprehension swelling within his heart as the officer continued his march forward. Lt. Mistral merely shook his head twice, trying to push out the morbid images of his subordinates being slaughtered after driving straight into a maelstrom of hostile arrows.
Several hundred meters ahead, multiple figures can be visibly seen crouching or kneeling by the roadside, warily eyeing the surrounding verdant fields and lush treelines of Conifers in silence, occasionally broken up by the sporadic gunfires that seemed to suddenly pop out of nowhere. With the Humvee and the engines of other vehicles shut off. The afternoon now felt peaceful and strangely tranquil, in spite of the looming dark clouds high in the heavens that threatened to pour rainwater onto the battlefields below.
No one in the platoon dared to break the tranquil silence that had enveloped the area. Except for a certain Corporal Evan Carson, the ever-talkative boisterous driver of Hitman 2-1. With his rucksack laden back leaning on the front wheel of his Humvee, he loudly screeched out his own version of the VeggieTales theme song, the rhythm intentionally butchered by Evan for the fun of it in an attempt to annoy his fellow teammates.
Needless to say, it garnered several dozen rolled eyes and groans from his fellow Marines in the platoon. Although for some reason, Clancy seemed to be enjoying it strangely, indicative of the red-haired Corpsman's audible hum that complimented Evan's intentionally horrendous cover of the song.
If you like to talk to tomatoes,
If a squash can make you smile!
If you like to waltz with potatoes,
Up and down the produce aisle!
…
Have we got a show for you!
Veggie Tales, veggie tal-
An audible metallic bang abruptly interrupted the duo's performance, immediately startling everyone in the vicinity as a result of the unexpected banging that seemed to drown out the earlier screech of VeggieTales theme song. Both Clancy and Evan swiftly diverted their previously-unattentive gaze towards the source of the noise, their actions were promptly welcomed by the sight of Kirito sitting on the turret cupola of their team's Humvee.
The only response that greeted the duo was the sight of the team's Mark-19 gunner slightly shaking his head towards his noisy compatriots.
"Will you two ever shut the fuck up? I'm trying to focus for fuck sakes." With his hands on his hips, Kirito annoyedly exclaimed towards the two. before bobbing his head upwards towards the increasing cloud cover consuming the sky above. "Even mother nature, out of all things over here, wants you to zip both of your mouths."
"Aww come on! Lighten up a bit or something, it's just some old-ass fucking song for kids." It was now Clancy's turn to speak up, as the Corpsman annoyedly complained with a cheery tone that seemed to mirror his bright, mischievous smile.
"What are you? A 5 year-old ankle-biter or what?"
"Man, fuck you Kirigaya! VeggieTales theme's a fucking classic." Evan promptly hollered back, calling the gunner by his surname as the boisterous Corporal unhesitantly shot an accusatory finger towards Kirito. "Maybe if you listen to some classy songs, you'll get some hot bitches on your non-existent Japanese dick."
Instead of replying verbally, Kirito simply responded with a friendly kick right on the top of the driver's LWH helmet. Others promptly snorted at the sight of yet another banter unfolding, including the trio involved in the on-going match of back and forth.
Taking several seconds in an effort to fix his kevlar helmet which had turned messy thanks to his friend's kick. Evan nevertheless continued with his Rip-Its fueled babbling, this time being accompanied by a cheeky smirk, much to the annoyance of his stoic brown-haired team leader.
"Besides, don't be rude to Doc, that's a golden rule dude." Evan casually remarked with a widening smirk as he tapped his gloved hands several times against the Humvee, earning Kirito's attention. "He's cute too, don't ya think? Especially in his playboy bunny costume. I'd let him fucking suck my dick dry, not gonna lie."
"Was that supposed to be an attempt at flirting?" A suppressed snicker was heaved out of Clancy's mouth, voicing his impressions amusingly.
A familiar, exasperated sigh resounded through the air after Evan finished his remark. Which was immediately followed by a short yet audible snicker from the green-eyed brunette that happens to be their team leader. Simon promptly twisted his kneeling upper torso slightly, shifting his stoic gaze towards the smirking complexion of the Corporal.
"From all the borderline gay shit that've been spewed out of your goddamn mouth lately, Evan." This time, it was Simon's turn to chime in into the conversation with a snide remark of his own. "Maybe letting you go loose on a wild goose chase for native chicks doesn't seem like that much of a bad idea right now."
"I dunno Sergeant," The driver merely shrugged at Simon's remark, his wide grin face going well with his cheery tone. "you're the one that depraved me of my god-given right to jerk off to local girls. Since you know, you can't exactly fuck them unless you want to wake up with a brand-new, never-been-seen-before STDs."
A loud groan suddenly swept through the air, followed by a sharp release of cold watery vapor in an audible act of sigh that rudely interrupted the conversation prior. Returning back to the platoon after completing the unnecessarily tedious task of taking a piss on the green fields just by the roadside, the Traveler casually waddled his way back to Simon's team as the brunette simply greeted his arrival by shooting a quick glance in the direction of the young journalist.
"Hey Sergeant, I think I have a question to ask." He wearily whistled towards Simon, both of his hands meanwhile instinctively reaching over for his personal backpack placed on top of the Humvee's trunk. "What exactly are we doing here?"
"The battalion's trying to find a way to bypass that town in front of us, so we can link up with RCT-5 on the other side." In response to the Traveler's question, Simon nonchalantly raised his rifle in the direction of the town up ahead. Just like in the training, the Sergeant naturally pressed the ACOG sight closer to his face.
His radiant green-eyes quietly spied the low-rise buildings dotting the foggy horizon beyond, barely discernible from his kneeling position thanks to the sudden appearance of a mist that usually precedes a heavy rainfall. The mysterious aura of the town was further reinforced by the dark clouds consuming the sky of the Duma Mountains as rainwater threatened to fall upon the area of operations.
"Why not?" Unfazed by the answer that he had received, the ever-curious journalist continued. His hands meanwhile, busily preoccupied with jotting down the conversation.
"Well, look at what the fuck happened to RCT-5's forward elements that got ambushed on the outskirt of that town." Simon promptly replied with an audible mocking tone. He then proceeded to sweep a glance towards a blood-stained LAVs parked off the road 500 hundred meters in front of them together with some other vehicles, the injured occupants currently being treated by dozens of Corpsmen, preoccupied with the tedious job of wrapping a variety of bandages on their wounded comrades.
The vehicle, together with several others of its kind, had approached the outskirts of the town acting as the forward element for RCT-5 when they were suddenly ambushed just as they were about to enter the town through its main entrance. Needless to say, the LAR element decimated the ambushers and fought back to friendly lines with their vehicles intact, same couldn't be said about their bloodied crews and passengers however – who had been riding with their body exposed out of the hatches, were caught off-guard when the first arrows flew towards the lead LAV – as evidenced by the bright red liquid smearing their MARPAT camouflage.
"They did that to guys in LAVs," The Sergeant grimly observed, spectating the Corpsmen from afar doing their jobs as they treated dozens of wounded Marines from the previous ambushes. The Traveler, hearing Simon's explanation, nodded understandingly. "we'd get smoked pretty fucking badly if we entered that place."
Simon heaved a sigh for a moment, staring at the long lines of demi-humans – straight out of anime and fantasy games that he used to enjoy – that had crowded the roadside. Several Marines from RCT-5, together with translators with basic knowledge of Latin, waddled through the lanes of catfolks and other oppressed groups that had escaped asking about the whereabouts of American citizens that had been captured and enslaved by the Saderan Empire.
The effort was fruitless however, indicative of the fact none of the demi-humans answered the questions that had been asked by the interrogating Marines about their citizens that had been ruthlessly enslaved. But that did not prevent the group of refugees, some slaves and others second-class citizens, to celebrate their newfound freedom.
The males politely bowed down towards the Americans, offering all kinds of treats to the men, which were promptly declined with a polite smile while the female were more direct in their approach, going as far as to using their bodies as a sign of gratefulness – indicative of them sexually trying to gain the Marine's attention – only to provoke a hail of fresh MREs and snacks from the now amused group of amused Marines, to which the refugees gratefully accepted.
The scene continued on like that for quite some time, in spite of the literal forthcoming storm as shown by the darkening skies and winds howling through the valley of the Dumas. A whistle coming from behind Simon's team abruptly interrupted the uplifting scene currently unfolding in front of them. Then, a tender pat on the shoulder promptly spun the brunette around, his composed disposition only to be greeted by none other than the familiar face of their platoon commander.
"We need to fucking talk." The Lieutenant calmly remarked towards the stoic Simon. Lt. Mistral then looked over his shoulders as he shifted his attention to the rest of the Second Platoon watching the conversation unfolding in front of them. "Everybody else, mount up and get back in your vehicles."
Despite the sudden order that had provoked several puzzled gazes and tilted heads in the first few moments, everyone immediately composed themselves and quickly heeded to Lt. Mistral's request. Simon's ATL, Dow, together with other team leaders weaved their way through the crowd, heading towards their herringboned Humvees neatly parked by the roadside, their teams closely trailing behind.
Satisfied with how things are going with the other teams, the Lieutenant promptly returned his gaze towards the now perplexed Simon. With both men staring at each other with nothing else in their minds, the duo quickly walked towards the Sergeant's lead Humvee parked off the road. Clancy and Evan, seeing this, immediately trailed behind their superiors just in time to witness the Lieutenant sluggishly throwing a map board into the vehicle's hood as the officer slowly came to a halt, an action that was mirrored by his subordinates trailing behind.
Without any seconds wasted, the Lieutenant promptly began the briefing by pointing his gloved hands towards the map board. Simon and his fellow subordinates, all of whom had converged around the young officer moments before, immediately cocked their eyebrows sideways at what Lt. Mistral's finger is pointing at on the map sheet.
It was the entrance of that hostile town lying ahead. Lt. Mistral promptly tapped his fingers several more times on the plastic-covered map board for emphasis before sweeping a quick glance towards Simon and his team, whose previously confused face had now contorted into a grim frown. It seems to be that everyone around the hood of the Sergeant's Humvee knew what's coming next, further reinforced by the glum aura surrounding the converged group.
"Change of plan," Lt. Mistral suddenly remarked, breaking the silence that had loomed around the group."we'll be assaulting through the town to link up with RCT-5 on the other side."
As expected, several agitated groans and exasperated sighs resounded through the air, befitting the frowning complexion of the group of Marines converging on the Humvee's front bumper. The first to speak within the irritated group was none other than Simon himself, as he stared down the grim-looking Lt. Mistral with a pair of dismayed bright green eyes of his own.
"That's fucking asinine." The Sergeant stuttered for a moment, before quickly composing himself as he grumbled distraughtly, his apprehension buried beneath the man's calm disposition. Lt. Mistral merely let out a visible water vapor indicative of a tired sigh before raising his head to look at Simon right in his bright-green eyes sympathetically. "I'm not even fucking surprised at this point, the guys at the Battalion staff must've been drinking fuck-loads of Kool-aids lately. Especially Godfather."
"Yeah, I know." Lt. Mistral merely replied, his voice trailing off as a result of the cold, howling winds preceding the forthcoming storm. "It's not like I can do a single shit about it. Just do our jobs and we'll be fine, hopefully."
"Roger that, Sir." With the last exasperated sigh finally breathed out of his mouth, Simon simply nodded stoically at the word of reassurance from his superior, although it did not fully quell the swelling apprehension in his stomach, still brooding over the insane idea. He merely hid it under a composed, stoic face as a facade.
Lt. Mistral merely nodded in response to the Sergeant's gracious remark, before promptly shifting his sight towards the bloodied LAV several meters up ahead. He stared at the vehicle for a moment before immediately returning his gaze towards Evan, who had been quiet the whole conversation.
Lt. Mistral then dragged his fingers across the plastic-covered map sheet, his gloved hands sliding from the town's entrance as it skirted across the board before abruptly stopping at the other side, the red marker at the end marking the position of RCT-5 units that had bypassed and looped around the town. Evan and the Lieutenant stared at each other for a moment, waiting for one of them to speak up first.
"Get me from here," With a steadfast tone, Lt. Mistral spoke up as he pointed his gloved finger on the town's entrance. He paused for a moment to let his words sink in, before sliding his hands on the map it all the way to the other side containing friendly RCT-5 units. "to there as fast as you can."
Evan momentarily stared at Lt. Mistral after receiving the request, before shrugging lightly amid the howling winds of the impending rainstorm.
"That sounds fucking insane," Evan suddenly remarked, snorting snidely at the idea. "but okay, I guess?"
"Is that a yes or no?" Unfazed by the answer received, the inquisitive Lt. Mistral pressed on with a calm voice. The question provoked Evan into pondering for a moment, his hands nervously tapping on the Humvee's hood as the usually talkative driver quieten down. Moments later, he answered with a steely expression.
"That'll be a yes, sir." Evan replied non-hesitantly with a firm, steadfast tone. The Lieutenant merely smiled at the answer, nodding graciously as a reply.
"Very well." Lt. Mistral simply remarked, before shifting his attention towards Simon who had been standing adjacent to his right.
As if on cue, several thunders roared beneath the clouds as their crackling sounds resounded throughout the battlefield, barely discernible from the intermittent gunfires occasionally being popped in the distance.
"Your team will be leading the whole battalion since Bravo Company will be on-point when we push through the town." Lt. Mistral shuffled his hands on the map as he tapped the paper several times for further emphasis. He then paused, letting what he said to sink in before promptly speaking again. "Alpha, Charlie and H&S will be following behind."
"What about Lt. Connolly and his platoon of jack-ass tankers?" In response to the Lieutenant's remark, the brunette promptly nodded towards the 4 M1A1 tanks of Centurion-1 parked by the roadside. Their turrets constantly swiveled left and right, watching the fields and the treelines paralleling the roads for any hostiles just as Simon spoke up again. "Will they at least go ahead of us to act as armor spearhead?"
"Negative, they'll be moving with H&S to protect their supply trucks carrying food, ammo, batteries and other kinds of shit, you'll get it." The young Lieutenant reluctantly responded, his voice seemingly disappointed by the decision. Unsurprisingly, the answer managed to gouged out an exasperated sigh from the similarly young Sergeant.
"Un-fucking-believable," Simon merely shook his head disappointedly before gesturing towards the rest of his team to mount up and get into their Humvee. Everyone quickly heeded to the order as doors swung open and weapons racked almost immediately afterwards. The speed and survival of the whole battalion will rest upon their shoulders as the lead vehicle. "my confidence in our battalion's commander decision-making abilities is definitely going down the fucking shitter."
"And you'd fucking think that Godfather and his staff at least learn not to fucking repeat the batshit insane shit we did back in Italica," Cracking another can of Rip-Its open, Evan casually chimes with a irritated opinion of his own as he gulped down the entire drink in one go. The driver was still incredulous at the sudden fragmentary order by their battalion commander. "but no! Gotta keep sucking on the Division CG's green weenie cock by sending us to bullshit missions like this to get a bunch of medals on their fucking dress blues and shit."
Eavesdropping on the conversation, Lt. Mistral promptly let out a snicker at the remark as they bonded over their mutual hatred of nonsensical orders. The young officer, finishing his suppressed laughter, then proceeded to lean on the front passenger door of Simon's Humvee to wrap up his final words before returning to his command vehicle.
"When we roll through the town, do not," The Lieutenant spoke up, his shoulder leaning against the windowless door of Simon's front passenger seat as he stared towards his subordinates sitting inside the vehicle. His expression then turned serious, his previous reassuring smile also disappeared as his complexion contorted into a blank. "and I mean, do not fucking stop under any circumstances until we finally reach the other side."
Everyone currently sitting inside the cramped Humvee nodded graciously at Lt. Mistral's word just as the Lieutenant shifted his head towards Clancy. The Corpsman, who had been silently munching on his pack of M&Ms from the issued MREs rations immediately caught the glimpse of the officer's gaze.
"Take care of Evan," Lt. Mistral spoke, his polite but nevertheless tone slowly dissipating amid the howling winds. "if he's fucked by some magic bullshit, get to him immediately while he continue the drive or else the whole battalion will get stuck in a traffic jam. I'm not too keen for that, especially in a fucking town full of discount Romans."
"Roger that, sir." With a thumbs up flashed visibly for the Lieutenant to see, Clancy promptly replied with a serene tone just as he gulped down his chocolate-flavored snack. "I'll try my best."
Seeing this, Lt. Mistral slowly allowed his blank face to contort into a warm, reassuring smile as he breathed out a satisfied sigh. Then, suddenly, he slid back the charging handle of his weapon, causing the M4A1 to clatter loudly as rounds were promptly pushed into the chamber by the rifle's mechanism.
"Alright, RCT-5's gonna detach and lend us a company worth of tanks and LAVs. They'll roll through the hostile town to establish strongpoint positions on the intersections along the road so the battalion can pass safely through." Lt. Mistral remarked with a small smile, his hopeful tone doing its best to reassure his incredulous subordinates. "Other than those armor detachments, all of the RCT are going to bypass the town through alternative routes."
Evan merely let out a cheery chuckle at the remark. His hands meanwhile, were hunched on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly with the tactical gloves that covered his fingers. The stoic Sergeant meanwhile, simply stared at the Lieutenant with a pair of radiant green-eye that eminatated a serene aura just as the young officer spoke again.
"Did that reassure you?"
"A little bit."
"As expected from my adorable team leader." With an amused snort coming out of his mouth, Lt. Mistral playfully patted the still distraught Simon with an optimistic grin forming on his face. "Anyways, while you guys wait for the fucking tankers and LARs to haul their asses here, I'm gonna go to Dow and other team leaders to let them know of this horseshit order."
"I'm glad to have you leading the platoon, Sai." The Lieutenant shot a final friendly gaze at Simon, his face plastered with an optimistic, reassuring smile. Not a moment later, he patted down the Sergeant's shoulder one last time before leaving the general vicinity of the Humvee as the young officer promptly set off towards the remaining team within his platoon that's still kept in the dark about the battalion commander's plan.
The usually unflappable Sergeant was immediately taken aback by the sudden compliment by the young Lieutenant. As if on cue, the dark clouds, which had hovered over the entirety of the area before, began pouring down a hail of cold rainwater all over the mountains as thunder and lightning accompanied the sound of rainfall loudly persisting over the foggy battlefield. The loud crackling of rainwater landing upon the paved road outside and the cramped Humvee did not prevent the similarly-young Sergeant from grinning slightly with a flustered red cheek –in spite of his dusty face thanks to days spent in the field – at the unexpected compliment, though.
However, a sudden metallic snap – barely audible amid the heavy rainstorm and the shrieking winds – brought the brightly flustered Sergeant back to reality. Simon promptly composed himself, his grin contorted into a stoic complexion once again as he turned his gaze back to the source of the sound. The Sergeant was immediately greeted by the sight of Evan in the middle of the process of starting the venerable age-old Humvee.
Simon then raised his hand high in the air, gaining Evan's attention as the driver stopped the process right in its tracks which promptly earned the team leader a perplexed stare from the now puzzled Evan.
"Keep the engine off, Evan. We're waiting for that armor detachment to go into the town first." The Sergeant calmly ordered, his hands pointed towards the starting switch of the Humvee to which Evan promptly shrugged as a response.
"Alrighty." Evan replied, his voice barely audible to Simon as heavy rainfall continuously patter against the roof of their cramped vehicle. That, coupled with the increasingly large fog engulfing the entire battlefield made the battalion's forthcoming push through the town unnecessarily harder than it needed to be.
By now, everyone inside the vehicle and the rest of the platoon had donned their respective neck-gaiters and dropped down their protective goggles over their eyes in an attempt to find some warmth amid the rainy storm. Cold, howling winds swept through the valley which had already been engulfed by ghostly-white mists and fog, gouging out light shivers from the Recon Marines caged within the confines of their cramped Humvees. The fog meanwhile, drastically obscured their field of vision to mere meters in front of them, the other-worldly gloom making it literally impossible to see anything further beyond even with their half-powered thermal scopes – courtesy of the lack of batteries plaguing the entire battalion.
Simon slowly leaned his head out of the windowless door frame of his passenger seat in an effort to get a better look of the platoon's current situation, only to be greeted by a rapid yet obnoxious series of rain pattering against his lush brown-hair and LWH helmet. It did little to faze the stoic Sergeant though, as he immediately looked around, squinting his eyes beneath the tinted protective goggles as he tries to make out the faint silhouette of Bravo Company's several dozens Humvees amidst the thick fog and howling winds that had accompanied the torrential rain.
For a moment, he quietly gazed outside in the direction of Lt. Mistral as the young officer battled through the cold rains, waddling left and right towards the other team leader's Humvee with the intent of passing on the news of the change in plan.
The Sergeant simply let out a quiet sigh as he leaned his head back into the relative cover of the team's rusty Humvee. Simon naturally and instinctively pointed his M4A1 rifle out of the windowless door, merely hoping that his weapon would work in the current weather, which had not been kind to everyone in vicinity as it let out a continuous hail of cold rainwater.
"So much for all the fucking Swift, Silent and Deadly, huh?" Shaking his head lightly at their current circumstances, Simon suddenly spoke as he scornfully mocks the battalion's motto with a suppressed snicker. Not a moment later, Evan shifted his head towards the composed Sergeant with a grin of his own, albeit hidden under his neck-gaiter.
"What about Swift, Stoned and Retarded?" The driver casually quipped about, his voice coming out muffled courtesy of the neck-gaiter that had been pushed up to his nose as the half-balaclava like clothing provided the much needed warmth in the stormy weather. The remark promptly earned him a stare from the now confused Simon.
"God fucking damn-it Evan, what's up with you and your tendency to blurt out that kind of stupid shit?" The noisy rhythm of rain pattering against the Humvee's roof did not prevent the Sergeant from snidely snorting at Evan's goofiness though, as he slightly and amusedly shook his head in the direction of the unusually-upbeat driver whose face is plastered with an obscured grin. "You don't even smoke a fucking pot."
"Well," Evan swiftly cocked his eyebrows sideways perplexedly, his quizzical complexion hidden under the tinted protective goggles affixed on his eyes. "how do you know?"
"You're from Mississippi." Simon non-hesitantly answered with a seemingly blank tone that mirrored the soulless tinted goggles that hid his eyes. His hands meanwhile, were firmly pointed at the driver of a southern descent.
"So?" The Corporal's confused disposition soon grew even more puzzled, as Evan quickly responded in an inquisitive manner to the answer given by his team leader.
"Nobody that came from that fucking shithole ever do drugs or get laid, Evan," The Sergeant cheekily placed his hand on Evan's shoulder, his obscured stoic face seemingly not going along with his joking remark. "besides from their severely-retarded obese whales that y'all referred to as fucking siblings, of course."
Then, a faint voice amid the thundering rainstorm abruptly chipped into Evan and Simon's match of friendly banters.
"Fucking Christ dude," The red-haired Corpsman audibly grumbled as he chimed into the conversation with an obviously amused tone. Clancy then promptly stretched an accusatory finger pointing towards two of his close friends, further accompanied by a hearty chuckle from the journalist to his right. "both of you're from the good ole' farm country that is the inbred cousin-fucking breeding ground that you called the South right? Then what the fuck are you two bickering for."
Simon promptly stopped talking for a moment as his attention shifted to the resident medical Corpsman sitting at the Humvee's back passenger seat. The Sergeant's lean body meanwhile, merely twisted just as his gaze met the tinted goggles covering Clancy's pair of electric-blue eyes.
"Except South Carolina isn't a fucking incest-ridden shitfest full of disabled retarded rednecks like Mississippi." As if on cue, a distant yet audible rumbling of a thunder in the background accordingly accompanied Simon's retortion.
Then, his gaze shifted to Evan, similarly donning the half-balaclava like clothing that is the neck-gaiter and the tinted protective goggles covering his eyes, matching the Sergeant's attire intended to keep some semblance of warmth amid the cold storm.
"Besides, I'm from Charleston. We don't fuck cousins no more over there." Suddenly, a smirk surfaced on the previously stoic disposition of the Sergeant as he intently stared at his driver with a smug gaze.
Unexpectedly, Evan immediately nodded in complete agreement without any delay in response to Simon's joking remark.
"Of course you don't." The driver pointed out just as he waved his hands in the air in an exaggerated manner, followed by several intentional gagging sounds that unsurprisingly raised several eyebrows within the cramped Humvees. "You instead go around Pendleton and that certain fucking bar during a Libo in Northern Australia, going around sucking and gagging on drunk black Staff NCO's horsecocks to get a promotion to Sergeant which is the reason why you ended up as our team leader."
"Ha-ha," With a faked laughter accompanying the chorus of his hands slowly clapping, Simon snickered at the accusation with a flat disposition. "very funny, Evan."
"Pretty ironic considering he just got all flirty with me earlier."
"Hey, hey! I got my boot bands on." The boisterous Evan promptly snapped his gaze towards Clancy with an unamused face, as the latter merely snorted at the reflection of their earlier conversation. "Stop turning everything into a fucking gay-ass fantasy, you squid."
"Yeah yeah, whatever." Simon, who usually maintained his unflappable expression on this kind of occasion, audibly breathed out a snicker at the excuse blurted out by his driver.
Just before the little match of friendly banter could proceed any further, a faint roar in the distance abruptly interrupted the trio's bickerings. At first, they merely ignored it as thunders emanating from the storm raging outside but then, it became louder and louder. Soon enough, it became too audible for the noise to be a work of nature as the obnoxious rumbling proceeded to slowly louden itself amid the screeching winds that seemed to accompany the torrential rains pattering on the highway pavement outside. Everyone instinctively tensed up as per their training, except for the brown-haired Sergeant who seems to have donned an unusually serene facade in spite of the loud growl reverberating outside.
"Those are Abrams' gas turbine engines, nothing bad so no need to go all buck-fever." Simon casually pointed out, not letting go of his steely gaze at the foggy horizon outside. Soon enough, the tense mood that had previously loomed over his team lessened.
Everyone inside within the confines of the cramped Humvees immediately shifted their intentful gazes outside in the direction of the wet pavement of the highway outside, washed away by the torrential rains and obscured by the watery mists looming over the battlefield. Not long after, several dozen silhouettes of the M1A1 Abrams tank materialized out of the foggy road from behind them, as the company's worth of armored behemoth slowly crept forward on the road leading up to the hostile town up ahead.
Clancy leaned his head closer to the driver's seat, trying to gain a closer look at the RCT-5's armor detachment tasked with establishing strongpointing positions within the hostile town ahead.
"Looks like the cavalry's here?" The Corpsman suddenly remarked just as the first Abrams leading the armor column – which had been a mere faint silhouette in the distance prior– emerged itself out of the cloudy cover of the misty highway. The stormy winds did little to impede the woodland-colored war machine's advance, indicative of the steely predator alternating its cumbersome turret left and right repeatedly in search of prey.
"Don't get your hope too high," Twisting his lean body to face Clancy, Simon casually reminded with a seemingly flat tone. "They're only there just to establish strongpoint positions along the town's intersections so we can safely speed through that shithole."
The red-haired Corpsman understandingly nodded, his actions mirrored by his team leader in a gracious manner. By now, several dozen other M1A1 tanks had trailed behind the lead tank in a straight, neatly placed line of a convoy. The armor column rolled through the wet shimmering pavement of the Appia Highway gracefully, not impeded at all by the howling winds.
The Sergeant took one last glance at the menacing convoy of a tank company rolling past the cramped Humvees of the Second Platoon. The brunette intently stared at the crews of the Abrams for a moment, the commanders of the respective machines appearing robotic beneath their tinted goggles, one that mirrored Simon's own.
Behind the large column of M1A1 tanks, trailed the smaller-chassis of LAV-25s. The LAR Company steadily crept past, their 25mm Bushmaster autocannon occasionally swiveling in every direction just as the silhouette of the armored vehicle materialized itself out of the moistened fog that loomed over the highway.
Then, almost in perfect unison, the lead M1A1 tank commander together with his fellow counterpart simultaneously dropped back into their respective Abrams and LAVs, followed by the coordinated action of them naturally closing the open hatches of their war machines. The crews are now buttoned up within the confines of their armor. Their combat mode had kicked in. The drums of battle had been beaten.
Notes
ANGLICO - Air Naval Gunfire Liaison, usually attached to Marine units as forward air controllers. Usually led by either a Navy or Marine Officer
FAC (Forward Air Controllers) - Guys that called in close air support on enemy positions.
Division CG - Division Commanding General.
FRAGO - Fragmentary Order, basically fancy way of saying an order had been changed.
Boot bands - Part of Marine attire. Joke is, if you do gay shit while wearing them, then you're not gay. Sort of like no homo.
Skipper - Nickname for captains.