MSR Tijuana/Appia Highway, HQ Section of Bravo Company 1st Recon. 7th April 2021 (1505)
Captain Walt merely stared at the foggy town ahead, its low-rise structures along with the intermittent orange flashes indicating an artillery hit reeked off an ominous vibes which was magnified further by the raging storm.
They're going to conduct a mad dash through the town – now discovered to be named Arafa on the map – while riding in lightly armored Humvees, a fact that wasn't taken very well by the commander of Bravo Company. The officer incredulously broods over the previous order, apprehensive at what's about to come next. The mixed armor detachment of a LAR and a tank company assigned from RCT-5 that had previously entered the relatively sizable metropolis with the intent of manning strongpoint positions on the various intersections along the town's main route did very little to reassure the unnerved Captain.
How many more SOPs do we have to break before Godfather can finally earn his fucking medal?
Bravo Company, Second Platoon's Position. (1520)
"Parry this, motherfucker!"
"Saderan Express"
"Overthrone"
"Chuck, Fuck and Suck"
"Give War a Chance"
The names were several out of the many dozen creatives titles that had been given to the company worth of M1A1 tanks from RCT-5 armor detachment by their faithful crew, as the moderately-sized column of armors steadily crept past the battle position of 1st Reconnaissance Battalion, their woodland camouflage paint gleaming gracefully as the behemoths braved through the stormy winds and torrential rain. Trailing behind them were another convoy of around 30-something LAV-25s, their lighter frame allowing the LAR unit to crawl behind the cumbersome chassis of the Abrams ahead with a slightly higher speed as the two differing vehicles raced through the washed up slippery road of the Appia Highway.
Several dozen more Abrams and LAVs materialized itself out of the moistened fog looming over the area of operations, steadily rumbling past Simon's line of sight just as the brunette keyed the push to talk button of his radio headset. The Sergeant merely eyed the large silhouettes of the passing tanks from RCT-5 outside with a look indicative of a person with mild interest. Though, he was preoccupied with things on his plate that needed to be tended to, as denoted by him breaking his steely gaze away from the lively pavement of the highway sitting abreast.
Moments later, the radio headset buzzed and crackled just as the brunette adjusted the mic closer to his mouth. Simon then spoke as he began yet another round of repetitive procedure of checking the radio communications, anticipating a response from his black assistant team leader on the other side.
"Hitman 2-1 to 2-1 Bravo, radio check, over." Simon merely released his grip on the push to talk button for a moment, waiting for the other side to speak. No transmission ever came, followed by an exasperated sigh from the Sergeant.
"I say again 2-1 Bravo, radio check, over." Again, Simon spoke as his voice slightly became louder with hopes that the other side would hear it. This time, an answer would come in the form of a buzzing from his headset indicative of an incoming traffic.
"Hitman 2-1, this is 2-1 Bravo, we heard you Lima Charlie." On the radio, Dow's burly voice resounded through the traffic just as the assistant team leader heaved out an exasperated sigh. "Standing by to die, over."
The remark instantly earned an amused snort from both Simon and his ever-cheery driver, Evan. It seems to be that the Sergeant wasn't alone when he thought that this plan was absolutely insane and nonsensical. That and the assistant team leader's open-top Humvee – doing nothing to protect them from the heavy torrential rain – were juxtaposed with Dow's annoyed tone.
"Yeah, roger that 2-1 Bravo, out." With a slight nod accompanying his final remark to the assistant team leader, Simon unceremoniously ended the transmission just as Evan slapped the steering wheel. The boisterous driver seemed to be in a state of pondering for a moment, he merely shook his head once before averting his gaze towards his team leader.
"I can't fucking believe that we're doing this retarded shit." Evan suddenly remarked just as his hands keyed the SINCGARS radio on the center console of their Humvee. Nobody knows for sure that their communications equipment would work in a rainy storm. So precautions were taken to make sure that they would stay functional. "Can't we just like, use the fucking common sense for once? Instead of going around, you know, assaulting hostile towns full of dollar store spartans in thin plated Humvees?"
The Sergeant stared back at his driver – also the team's SINCGARS radio operator – for a moment. His neck-gaiter-covered face gazed at Evan stoically while his bright green eyes eye-locked the driver. Soon thereafter, Simon simply let out a morbid snicker glumly.
"I'm sure the answer will be no like always," Simon flatly responded to his friend's remark with a mocking tone. "couldn't get medal and commendation if you don't pull a stupid fucking move."
Not a moment later, their little chatter was abruptly interrupted by a series of unholy screeches emanating from the rainy clouds above, their roars drowning out even the loudest of the thunders. It didn't take long for everyone to realize where the sound originated from. Immediately, everyone inside the vehicle swiftly snapped their gaze up front towards the hostile town just as the first artillery shell hollered over their position in a dazzling string of amber lights.
The several dozen HE rounds arched over their respective target in a mesmerizing orange trail before finally striking the ground below in a bright iridescent hue in spite of the thick fog obscuring the horizon. Immediately afterwards, the audible roars of shells obliterating Saderan positions faintly resounded amid the howling winds of the storm and the light pattering of the torrential rain. More shells began to materialize out of the mist, usually followed by a cacophony of destruction personified in the form of faint explosions up ahead in the hostile town, their faint amber blaze barely visible as a result of the raging rainstorm.
The sudden orchestra of 155mm high explosive shells exploding in the distance accompanied the passing formation of the ad-hoc armor detachment of tanks and LAR from RCT-5, just as the final silhouette of the armor rolled past. They soon disappeared into the cloud of moistened fog up ahead, allowing themselves to be consumed by the loom as they steadily sped towards the direction of the town ahead. The sound of metallic clanking also faintly vibrated and cascaded intermittently as the war machines trampled over the highway's pavement.
Evan merely whistled at the sight, his voice coming out muffled as a result of the neck gaiter obscuring his face and the black tinted goggles affixed on his eyes.
"Man, they sure know how to start a party," The driver suddenly remarked with a cheery tone with hints of annoyance in it, his voice muffled by the ongoing storm. "now let's get this fucking bullshit over with already."
"Yup." A response came from the stoic Simon to his right just as the team leader racked the charging handle of his M4A1. Not sparing any moments, he naturally pointed the rifle outside towards the rainy horizon. The Sergeant quietly hoped that the drizzle of rainwater coming from the heavens won't jam his issued weapon.
As the men awaited for further orders, both Simon's radio headset and the SINCGARS on the Humvee's center console suddenly buzzed out of the blue. Naturally, they paid no mind to the audible crackle coming from the two differing devices. Then, several loud popping sounds rattled continuously, provoking everyone in the platoon to instinctively raise their respective weapons in an alarmed state. The cacophony of gunfire continued uninterrupted just as the person on the other side of the radio spoke. Everyone promptly frowned at the incoming traffic with a grim expression.
"Enemy! Enemy! 2 o'clock! Enemy conta-" Tired groans were breathed out and exasperated sighs immediately followed afterwards in the wake of Lt. Superman's sudden babbling. Not a moment was spared as everyone swiftly sneered with disdain at the previous radio traffic, steadily drowned out by the sudden panicked gunfire of Third Platoon's commander.
Almost immediately thereafter, the radio crackled again as an indication of yet another round of incoming traffic. Fortunately, Evan was quick to react as the usually talkative driver agitatedly leaned his slender frame closer to the Humvee's center console just as his hands frantically keyed the boxy communication device in a frantic manner, managing to change the frequency just in time before the annoying babbling of Third Platoon commander could be blurted out.
The driver slumped back into his seat with an annoyed groan, purposely stretched out for emphasis just as Evan shifted his previously unattentive gaze towards the stoic Sergeant in his right.
"I am so sick of Lt. Superman's blurting out random bullshit all over our comms." Evan merely shook his head in displeasure, his action followed by a leisure nod from his team leader. Both of them are clearly exasperated in spite of their differing attitudes. "You know what? There ought to be some sort of fucking IQ test before they send you out here to blow some primitives' shit up with million-dollar heavy weapons."
The Sergeant amusedly snorted at the idea, allowing his lips to contort into a slight smile under the neck-gaiter covering his nose and mouth as a response.
"If they did that," Simon pointed out, his attentive gaze outside now turned to face the talkative driver. "then fuckin' buck-toothed mutated sister-fucking inbred southern cowboys like you wouldn't be here either."
"That's for fucking sure." A snicker leisurely came out from the red-haired Clancy, clearly enjoying the little banter between his two compatriots unfolding up front. "Where else would we get all of our good ole' cousin-humping farm boys."
"As much as I appreciate your respective compliments, it did not reassure me considering the fact that we're still going to assault that fucking town." The driver sarcastically retorted just as he rolled his eyes annoyedly, his usual cheery disposition replaced by a quiet brooding at the decision-making of their battalion commander. Then, he slowly raised his gloved hands in the air with the fingers firmly pointed at the town up ahead.
The town's sprawling low-rise buildings menacingly stand tall in the distance, the rainy panorama further perverted by the ghostly white fog obscuring the view of the rainy horizon. The small metropolis was eerily silent for the most part. In spite of that, the tranquil quietness of the scene was occasionally broken by the ear-splitting roars of Marine artillery firing as its cacophony of death continued unabated.
Then, the two differing radios inside the Humvee audibly crackled, loud enough to be heard despite the obnoxious howl of the stormy winds outside. As if on cue, the panicked gunfire – which had been persistently relentless before – from Hitman-3 position had also died down in intensity before completely stopping altogether. With their friendly bickers abruptly interrupted, silence befell the vehicle for a moment as everyone paid attention to the sputtering device, before being broken again as the man on the other side spoke in an authoritative tone.
"All Hitman Victors, this is Hitman Actual. We're Oscar Mike, I say again, we are Oscar Mike" Their company commander, Captain Walt, blankly spoke over the radio. His firm yet tired voice was accompanied by the audible sputtering noises of the devices. Immediately thereafter, the windy air around them was swiftly disturbed by the roaring noises of several dozen lightly-armored Humvees and MTVR supply trucks of 1st Recon, their drivers busying themselves by starting their respective vehicles and silently hoping deep inside that nothing bad would happen.
Simon merely sighed at the radio traffic exasperatedly, trying to remain composed and reserved in spite of nonsensical order. Not sparing any moments to waste, he promptly twisted his slender body to face Evan. Evan meanwhile, had already anticipated what's about to come out of the Sergeant's mouth, indicative of the driver's hand stretching closer to the vehicle's start button.
"You heard the man," With his head slightly gesturing towards the steering wheel for further emphasis, Simon calmly ordered just as he tapped his hands twice on the dashboard in front of him. "start the vehicle."
"Roger that gay-ass." Evan simply snickered at the team leader's order in an attempt to raise the low spirits inside the vehicle with one of his energy drink-induced quips. Simon stayed silent, albeit not without allowing a slight smile to surface on his previously stoic face.
The driver immediately heeded the order without any hesitation – the groans and grumbles coming from Evan himself notwithstanding. Soon enough, the quiet air inside the cramped Humvee and the noise of the howling winds outside were promptly drowned out by a barrage of audible rumblings coming from the vehicle's engine just as it lurched forward into the wet pavement of the highway sitting abreast. The 1st Reconnaissance Battalion is once again, on the move.
Other Humvees in the platoon followed suit, leaving behind their static herringbone battle position as everyone's respective vehicles neatly lined up behind Hitman 2-1 in a convoy fashion. Their maneuver was promptly followed by everybody else in the battalion. Supply trucks, Humvees, command vehicles and a variety of other vehicles in 1st Recon zig-zagged through the highway, forming into a column slowly so as to not hit others especially with the rainstorm that had severely limited their visibility and field of view with the ghostly white fog.
Drivers loudly shouted out of their respective rides – as a result of the radios not working, courtesy of supply foul-ups in the Battalion's H&S Company–, trying their best to alert others of any movements by their vehicles as they cautiously maneuvered into a convoy formation. The looming fog further made their job of assembling onto the highway harder than it needed to be. For a certain radio operator and driver of Hitman 2-1, it felt and looked more like a clown show than a preparation for a violent dash through a town crawling with hostile legionnaires.
"Man, this shit wouldn't look out of place in a session of Special-Olympics." Evan promptly snorted at the sight with an amused tone. With his team leading the battalion, all the five-men inside the cramped Humvee had to do now was to wait for others in their company and battalion to finish their maneuver into a convoy before they could properly push through the town. "This is so fucking retarded as hell."
"Yup." His brown-haired team leader nodded in agreement. Then, the brunette calmly placed his grenade-equipped M4A1 on the windowless frame of his seat's door, before naturally hunching over the rifle with his torso just as his training told him to.
Clancy meanwhile, merely leaned his head out of the door's frame in an attempt to check on the current situation of their platoon, company and battalion on behalf of his team. The Corpsman instinctively narrowed his blue eyes just as the first drizzle of torrential rain greeted him outside which did little to impede his curiosity. He surveyed the foggy surrounding for a moment, watching as several dozen supply trucks and lightly-armored Humvees rolled into their respective positions.
Satisfied with the current progress, the red-haired Corpsman merely breathed out a relieved sigh just as his gloved hands began to cheekily tap on Evan's shoulder.
"Looks like they're done fixing their shit." Clancy promptly flashed a thumbs up towards Evan. The driver immediately responded by shooting a glance towards their calm and reserved team leader, hunching over his rifle pointed outside as he was preoccupied with cautiously scanning his sector of fire just in case some retarded legionnaire tried to sneak up from the fields to his right.
"Should we move now?" Evan immediately inquired with a seemingly perky voice, waiting in anticipation for an answer to come from the stoic Simon. Soon enough, the Sergeant replied without any hesitation.
"Hit it." Without ever breaking his intentful gaze at the foggy horizon outside, Simon quickly gave his approval at the driver's request with a seemingly calm voice just as he loaded his rifle's M203 grenade launcher with a fresh round of 40mm HEDP.
Immediately thereafter, Evan promptly reacted to the order with an affirmative nod just as he slammed his foot into the Humvee's accelerator, sending the vehicle forward without any delay as it swiftly rolled towards the town at unusually high speed followed by the rest of the battalion's convoy moving at a similarly swift pace.
The drizzle of waters washing down the road's pavement did little to impede the Marines' advance as the convoy swiftly sped past rows upon rows of HET teams – preoccupied with questioning refugees from the town for valuable intelligence – and the massed armor, mechanized and motorized elements of RCT-5 stacked by the highway. Several dozen worth of M1A1 tanks, Amtracs, Humvees and support trucks were idly parked on the roadside bathing in the rainstorm. Instead of pushing through the town together with 1st Recon, they will be bypassing it through other routes looping around the sprawling metropolis ahead. For all intents and purposes, the Reconnaissance Marines – save for the RCT-5 armor detachment sent into the town to establish strongpoint positions along the route's intersections – are alone.
The 80-something column of 1st Recon's variety of vehicles cruised past Lt. Connolly's idle tank platoon on the roadside, the woodland-colored war machines are frantically being refueled by the fuel trucks from the H&S and other supply Marines in preparation for the forthcoming task at hand. This time, Centurion-1 will trail behind the convoy instead of leading it like usual, leaving Bravo Company's Second Platoon at the tip of the spear for the assault.
The amount of familiar silhouette indicating friendly vehicles soon began to dissipate as the battalion sped past them, as rows of tanks and mechanized infantry accompanied by occasional Humvees soon were replaced by an eerily empty road further reinforced by the fog limiting everyone's visibility. As if on cue, the radio beeped just as they passed the final line of RCT-5 armors parked off the highway. It was their platoon commander, Lt. Mistral.
"All Hitman-2 Victors, be advised, we are leaving the friendly lines. Break," It was obvious at this point to everyone in the Second Platoon of what was happening. But nevertheless, the young Lieutenant felt the need to voice the warning over the radio to heighten up the senses of his men. "make sure all of the weapons to be REDCON-1"
The two men at the front seat of 2-1's Humvee intently listened to the sudden radio transmission. Inevitably and soon enough, the Sergeant spoke up just as he shifted his gaze towards the rest of his team.
"Last LAR unit that went into that town were literally taking some fucky-wacky magic version of RPGs from the rooftops and bushes." Simon suddenly remarked, before promptly shooting a quick glance to both the Humvee's Mark-19 gunner and the red-haired Corpsman at the back. "Kirito, I want your Mark-19 ranged high and Doc, if you see anything moving that doesn't look like its wearing a Marine camouflage on your sector, fucking shoot that guy."
"Got it" Clancy promptly replied graciously just as he clutched his service rifle, followed by him flashing a positive gesture of thumbs up alongside the Mark-19 turret gunner. The seemingly composed Simon merely nodded in response before returning his gaze at the roadside like before.
Trees heavily swayed to the left as howling winds continued to sweep through the area, occasionally accompanied by the flash of lightning and the audible booming of thunders in the distance that is arguably very similar to the crackling of a gun being fired. By now, the view of the sprawling metropolis ahead slowly became clearer as ghostly fogs gave way to a town torn to pieces by artillery fires. In the misty horizon, black smoke continued to curl skywards, originating from the fiery blaze that followed in the wake of the bombardment.
Everyone stayed silent as they slowly inched closer to the hostile town ahead, trailing behind the combined armor detachment which had already sped ahead of them and were now preoccupied with the task of blocking off the intersections along the way. Nobody envied the LAR and tank units of their jobs, stopping in the middle of a sprawling Romanesque settlement surrounded by dozens of building blocks potentially hiding ambushing Saderan legionnaires – who by now, seemed to have adapted to the Marine's tactic by not engaging them in the open.
Same couldn't be said for their brethrens who tried to ambush the forward LAR units of RCT-5 earlier that day however, for every Marine that was injured they were immediately and appropriately met in kind by a dazzling hail of 25mm Bushmaster autocannon and other variety of small arms fire from dozens of LAVs. By now, the 1st Recon had already rolled past the site of the clash that had happened several hours ago. Mangled dead bodies and blown-up body parts were haphazardly scattered along the roadside, the hellish scenery accompanied by the scorched bushes and obliterated vegetation ripped apart by gunfires that followed in the wake of the sudden ambush
However, something odd catches the attention of the men of 1st Recon. In spite of the raging rainstorm swirling around the area and the combined arms maneuver of a modern armed forces happening all around them, the town's refugees, both human and demi-human, continued to brave their way through the winds and rains as they head south towards the ever-changing lines of the 1st Marine Division.
Dozens of them, perhaps a mother leading her children, uncaringly weaved her way through the gory scenery without a hint of fear on her face. Torrential rains and stormy winds continued to wash her up coldly however just as the woman's silhouette slowly disappeared into the ghostly fog along the road. Everyone inside Simon's Humvee silently stared at her struggling exodus solemnly, masked under a calm and composed complexion
For the last time before being consumed by the silvery mist ahead, she inconsiderately walked past the remains of an ambushing legionnaire – no older than perhaps, 16– lying grotesquely on the highway's pavement beside her with the boy's upper torso completely smashed to bloody pieces after being repeatedly ran over by the heavy tracks of the combined armor detachment's M1A1 tanks that had traveled into the town earlier. The boy's flattened organs and crushed rib cages were haphazardly thrown into the highway as a result, painting the pavement red as rainwater continues to freely gush down the crimson liquid below, further reddening the empty road used by the many vehicles of 1st Recon Battalion.
The closer they inch forward towards the town, more and more mangled dead bodies and charred organs began to appear, gruesomely decorating the empty road in a variety of puddles full of crimson-red blood. All seemed quiet on the route by the Reconnaissance Marines, as not a single thing moved besides the seemingly never-ending stormy winds that swayed whatever remains of the bushes lining the highway savagely ripped apart by autocannon fire.
The highway was eerily silent, silent enough for everyone to feel and even heard the beating of their hearts. The quiet scenery however, won't last long.
Not a moment later and without a second spared, their morbid gaze on the charred lumps of dead legionnaires strewn by the roadside was rudely interrupted by a series of faint pops suddenly resounding in the distance, audible enough to be heard despite the constant pattering of rainwater on the vehicle's roof. Swiftly thereafter, a series of loud, thundering booms followed suit as multiple amber hues indicating a direct hit from an M1A1 Tank main gun faintly flickered in the distance like a broken lamp.
Evan was quick to react to the sudden change in general atmosphere as he casually whistled at the intense but nevertheless one-sided firefight unfolding in front of them between the RCT-5's armor detachment and sneaky Saderan legionnaires.
"Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war." Quickly thereafter, everyone immediately arched their respective eyebrows quizzically at the driver's sudden quotation of Shakespeare. The Traveler immediately moved to voice his curiosity directly at the currently composed Evan.
"Was that Shakespeare?" The young journalist questioned from his seat with a voice barely audible as the vehicle steadily weaved its way through the storm. The unseen clashes unfolding ahead and the howling winds had drowned out all other sounds inside the cramped Humvee but luckily for the Traveler, Evan seemed to have heard him and his short inquiry.
"Yes, why did you ask?"
"Huh," Another voice chipped into the conversation just as the stoic Simon slightly traversed his intentful gaze towards Evan. "never knew a white-trash looking motherfucker is into this kind of stuff."
"Fuck yeah, dude." Evan promptly replied as he casually patted the Sergeant's shoulder cheekily, earning an amused chuckle from the quiet brunette. "What about you? Don't tell me you don't know this kind of shit after going to some fucking prestigious fancy-wacky expensive-ass boarding school."
"I do, especially his plays and some other poem shit. Loved 'em." Simon proudly responded to the driver's question. His smug voice however, seemed to have trailed off mid-way through just as the Sergeant returned his attention back to his sector of fire once again. He slammed the bolt of his M4A1 one last time for extra emphasis. "Now shut your fucking mouth and watch the fucking road ahead."
"Aye-aye." The driver leisurely replied, his voice soon trailing off as several dozen more familiar pops of LAVs firing resounded in the distance. The LAR and tank company ahead continued to blast away the town's hidden assailants with a brilliant flurry of tracers and MPAT shells. The ongoing firefight was further punctuated by the deeper continuous booms of artillery shells landing over their respective targets.
It did not faze Simon a bit however as the Sergeant, with his earlier conversation with the ever-talkative Evan settled with, promptly diverted his attention away to face the red-haired Corpsman at the back of their vehicle. He kept an eye out on the watery road outside just as he spoke up with an inquisitive tone.
"Hey Doc, have you seen anything back there yet?" Simon calmly inquired, his intentful gaze on the road outside undisturbed at all by the conversation. The Sergeant's sudden question promptly earned the brunette a tired yet muffled sigh from Clancy.
"I got no targets, I can't see a single fucking shit because of the fog." An exasperated reply came from the usually cheerful Clancy just as he lightly shook his head disapprovingly in response to the question. "Could it look any fucking worse than this shit? Every single thing around here is telling us something bad is going to happen."
A snort was suddenly heaved out of the driver's mouth not a second after Clancy finished his tiring remarks.
"Mother nature around here sure has a funny sense of humor." A leisure snicker appropriately accompanied Evan's casual remark just as he slammed the steering wheel of the Humvee, his head meanwhile nodding in agreement with Clancy's statement earlier. Nobody spoke a single word anymore as everyone respectively returned their attention to the task at hand.
By now, the cacophony of 25mm autocannons crackling and the booming of Abrams' smoothbore had slowly subsided in its intensity. The previously relentless and furious rattles of machine guns being fired had now been replaced by quieter intermittent series of pops arbitrarily resounding once in a while just as the point vehicle of 1st Recon rolled into Arafa's entrance, smashed and obliterated to pieces from the HE shells that had been sent flying towards the sprawling Romanesque mountain town. All that remains of the entrance are merely bits of fiery brimstones and smoldering rubbles and rocks, occasionally juxtaposed with chunks of bloody meat and horribly shredded corpses of the defenders poking out of the pieces of blown-up bricks on the ground.
Bloodied dead bodies of armed hostile legionnaires and innocent civilians alike – now burned completely black and left mangled – grotesquely hung out of the blown-out windows of the buildings lining the road used by the convoy of 1st Recon's variety of lightly-armored Humvees and supply trucks. Their blackened body parts and mutilated organs further decorated the scorched walls of the structures blasted apart by Marine artillery and tank fires as crimson-red blood freely ran down the streets of Arafa alongside literal human piss and turds, smearing the pavement gruesomely as a result of the destroyed sewers. The first impression of the town to the men of 1st Reconnaissance Battalion was pretty much hellish.
Tanks and LAVs sat all along the Romanesque streets of Arafa, criss-crossed as the armors manned strongpoint positions on the town's dozen worth of intersections alongside dismounted LAR scouts, their eyes keenly scanning the foggy alleys and wrecked windows with a clear Herculean effort for any signs of suicidally brave legionnaires that might try to ambush the convoy of Reconnaissance Marines traveling behind them. Strewn on the streets are the remains of the previous ambushers, ridden with hundreds of bullet holes from the earlier firefight. The heavy rain brought gallons worth of sewer waters out of their obliterated sanctuary, sending tons of literal human piss and excrement smearing into the roads in a flood of smelly muck together with pieces of blackened rubbles and the remains of whole buildings knocked down by shells from artillery.
It did little to impede the dash of the 1st Recon Marines though, as the lead vehicle of the convoy quickly sped into the town's eerily quiet street, promptly causing the dirty puddles of bright red blood and stinky human waste to splash all over the alleys and pavement all around them like a violent wave. Smoldering fires lit up the windshields of the battalion's Humvees with the dancing silhouettes of luminescent lights faintly flickering on the dirty glasses. Simon merely eyed the hellish scenery with clear indifference, maintaining a reserved disposition as the column steadily weaved past the lines of destruction, swiftly moving behind the heavy chassis of Abrams tanks and LAVs that occupied their respective strongpointing battle positions on the intersections and junctions of Arafa.
A beep on the radio came just as the first silhouette of a Marine armored vehicle materialized out of the foggy streets and into the field of view of the Reconnaissance Marines. The woodland camouflage gleamed brilliantly amid the rainfall and the cumbersome chassis was further accompanied with its imposing turret making it painfully obvious that it is an M1A1 Abrams. More and more of its fellow brethren of the same type soon became visible as the lightly-armored Humvees of 1st Recon rolled past, their wary occupants pointing out every single weapon they had available outside towards the alleys and windows of the nearby buildings. Nothing moved within the devastated town.
"Hitman-2 this is 2-1 Bravo, be advised we have friendlies on both sides of the road, over." The two radio devices inside the lead Humvee of 1st Recon buzzed just as Simon's assistant team leader, Dow, spoke on the radio with a seemingly emotionless tone. True to his words, silhouettes of tanks and LARs lined the streets ahead as the convoy continued to speed past the destruction that had been left behind in the wake of earlier one-sided skirmish. At the same time, Evan merely grimaced with a frown on his face, too preoccupied with maneuvering through the maze of dead bodies scattered on the road up front, their guts splattered all over the pavement in a series of bright red chunks littered around.
"You know dude, everything in life is so fucking overrated, except for death." The driver glumly spoke, breaking the silence inside the vehicle which had lingered ever since they approached the outskirts of the town earlier. He kept a fair amount of attention on the foggy road ahead as he continued with his cynical quip. "All of that stupid-ass shit like fancy house, nice cars, tight pussies and other kind of shit goes out of the window instantly. I wouldn't trade place with that guy over there that looked like a crates of fucking tomatoes smashed up the fucking road."
As right as Evan is, everybody stayed silent. They continue to cruise past blown-up buildings, wagons ridden with bullet holes and smoky pieces of rubbles haphazardly lying on the edge of the road under the watchful eyes of the combined armor detachment sitting nearby. The ride was smooth, in spite of the dirty muck of blood and human waste piling on the road alongside wrecked bits of bricks blown-off their respective buildings. Marine artillery and HIMARS batteries had also stopped their destructive barrage by now, allowing silence to linger in the air of Arafa.
It didn't last for very long though as suddenly out of nowhere, Evan frantically slammed his foot onto the Humvee's janky brake pedal as his hands fumbled over the steering wheels that had been spinning wildly. The vehicle promptly screeched to a violent halt, sending disgusting brown-colored waters spraying in every direction as the sudden action was instantly repeated across the entire battalion's convoy as everyone stopped right in their tracks.
Kirito, the team's operator of the Humvee's Mark-19, swiftly clutched the wet frame of the turret in desperation as he tightly held onto it and the roof, waiting for the vehicle to completely stop after its out of nowhere violent brake. The gunner promptly shouldered back his M249 SAW machine gun just as he quickly plopped down the turret cupola with a confused expression written across his face.
"Hey, what the fuck was that for!" The gunner angrily snarled, incredulous at the sudden action by Evan. The driver was currently gasping furiously for air as a result of his previous action, wiping off the water vapor that had condensed on the lenses of his tinted goggles followed by him shifting his attention towards his compatriot just over his shoulder. "I could've been thrown into the road goddamn it!"
"Well fuck," Evan immediately replied with an unusually blank tone that nevertheless managed to sound urgent, his gaze now averted towards the still incredelous Kirito. The seemingly leisure driver had seemed to have calmed down and recovered from the Humvee's sudden violent halt. "there's a fork in the road!"
"A what?" Another voice ranged out from behind Evan's driver seat, just as Clancy dazedly slapped his gloved hands into the cushion with a stuttering voice. The howling winds moving at around fifty miles an hour and the arbitrary pops of gunfire intermittently erupting within the town made it hard for the Corpsman to hear anything clearly.
"A fork in the fucking road!" Evan appropriately answered with a tone louder than the ones in his previous remark as he swiftly shifted his attention towards the puzzled Corpsman. Then, the driver promptly stretched his hands forward at the vehicle's windshield with his gloved fingers pointed straight at the intersection lying beyond, heavily obscured by the ghostly fog looming within the vicinity. His intentful gaze meanwhile, were locked away with Clancy's dazed blue eyes. Clancy merely nodded understandingly as a response before urgently returning his line of sight back to the Humvee's left flank.
True to the words of the team's boisterous driver, a T-intersection indeed lies ahead, with pieces of blown-up rocks and shattered rubbles blackened to a coal-like appearance littering the pavement up front. The road that had been splitted into two was further dotted by green silhouettes of Marine tanks and LAVs manning their respective battle positions with their turrets leveled along the streets to discourage any hostiles from approaching. As if on cue, the blocky SINCGARS radio device on the vehicle's center console and Simon's PRR headset audibly ranged. Soon enough, the communication traffic quickly became clogged with a slurry of puzzled transmissions as everyone within the battalion began inquiring about the sudden stop.
One of the many transmissions on the chaotic net – coherent enough to be heard and understood by the men of Second Platoon – spoke up, crackling and buzzing audibly from the two radios within the cramped Humvee that led the battalion's dash. Like previously before, it was the voice of their young platoon commander, sounding unusually reserved amid the chaotic dilemma that had emerged as a curveball towards both his men and the rest of the 1st Recon.
"Hitman-2 to Hitman 2-1, interrogative, why are we suddenly halting?" Lt. Mistral's unamused tone resounded across the radio net, coolly inquiring about their current situation. Frustratingly, the Lieutenant could barely see anything out of his vehicle's windshield as a result of the constant dribble of rainwater and the thick silvery fog limiting their visibility to mere meters.
Immediately afterwards, the two men at the front seat of the battalion's lead Humvee promptly traded looks and exchanged quizzical blinkings of their eyes with each other. They merely stared at each other for a moment in awkward silence, contemplating over their next course of action as the radio continued to buzz annoyingly in the background. Not wanting to waste any time dwelling on their current dilemma, Evan simply responded with a casual shrug towards the weirdly calm – possibly even serene – Simon.
"Go for it." Evan casually remarked towards his stoic team leader just as he reached over for a piece of plastic-covered map laying in disuse on the vehicle's dusty dashboard. Simon merely nodded in affirmation as a response, an action that was immediately followed by the Sergeant promptly pushing the headset mic closer to his mouth as his hands swiftly keyed the push to talk button.
"Hitman-2, be advised, we have a fork in the road ahead. I say again, a fork in the road." The Sergeant emotionlessly spoke onto the radio headset, his mind meanwhile racing to solve their current dilemma as fast as possible as he promptly stole a quick glance on the map sheet held open by his driver, whose puzzled complexion mirrored by everybody alike within the cramped vehicle. Stormy winds continued to blast through the windowless doors of his Humvee, further perverting the already barely coherent exchange on the clogged net. Then, another crackle from the device faintly resounded just as Lt. Mistral formed up a response to the earlier report from his lead team.
"Uh-uh, copy that 2-1." The young Lieutenant quickly replied to the previous transmission, his calm voice further reassuring his men, agitated and apprehensive as a result of their sudden stop inside the eerily quiet town. The officer on the other side paused for a moment, before speaking up once again with a steadfast tone. "Wait one as I check with the battalion."
Not even a moment later after their platoon commander ended the conversation, a loud and furious rattle of autocannons firing roared to the foggy flanks of Bravo Company, followed by the flurry of crackles indicating Marine small arms fire. The LAV continued spitting out tracers wildly into the foggy alleys and windows facing the crowded road, blasting away at the hidden assailants unseen by the men of 1st Recon Battalion with a hail of fire. Dazzling streaks of light erratically flew, occasionally bouncing off the primitive bricks and stones of the structures that it struck, sending the tracer rounds ricocheting in every direction possible.
Everyone inside the Humvee lightly flinched just as multiple strings of light indicative of a 25mm round dangerously slammed into the left side of the road. It was a ricochet. Rocks and bits of rubbles flew into the road afterwards, lightly pattering the door and frame of each vehicle in the Second Platoon in an interconnected series of audible banging of metal amid the sudden firefight. Instinctively, Clancy immediately fumbled over his rifle, pointing the barrel outside without any hesitation as the Corpsman cautiously scanned the foggy alleys and the blown-up windows to his right, whose wrecked roofs had been peeled upwards like a sardine can after being struck by a hail of 155mm artillery shell. Swiftly enough, it gained the Sergeant's attention, whose attentive gaze had now trailed off towards a certain red-haired teammate.
"Anything back there, Doc?" Simon promptly asked with an inquisitive tone just as he twisted his torso backwards to face the Corpsman currently crouching over his M4A1, pointed outside and occasionally alternating between his left and right in an effort to spot whatever or whoever that is currently being shot at and ripped apart by the LAVs' barrage of autocannon rounds. However, all Clancy saw was the same, looming white fog before that frustratingly shortened his line of sight to mere meters in front of him. That, and coupled with the ongoing rainstorm that seemed to went on without an end in sight merely provoked Clancy to lightly shook his head as a response
"God-fucking-damn it! I can't even fucking see what they're shooting at!" With a grim tone accompanying his reply to the previous question, the wary Clancy immediately yelled back. The voice of his response was faint as a result of the howling winds outside that effortlessly drowned out other sounds inside Humvee. Fortunately, it was audible enough to be heard by Simon as indicated by the brunette simply nodding his head understandingly before swiveling his stoic gaze away back to the vehicle's driver.
Evan intently scanned the contents of the map firmly gripping on both of his hands, doing his best to prevent it from wildly fluttering and flying into the air as a result of the strong stormy breeze all while trying to squeeze out any information on their current route from the paper-wrapped mapsheet. Then, the driver stopped his attempt at solving the puzzle and immediately turned to look at the similarly puzzled Simon, whose bright green eyes are staring at him from beneath the tinted lenses of his protective goggles.
"Alright, which way are we fucking going?" Evan audibly asked with an urgent voice, slowly but surely becoming alarmed by every second they're stuck with the dilemma on the streets of Arafa.
Simon promptly and abruptly snatched the map from Evan's grip as a response, stretching it wide for both of them to see on the Humvee's dashboard. The driver offered no resistance at all to the Sergeant's sudden action as he quickly stole a slight glance at the map fluttering in the brunette's gloved hand, trying to read it amid the dew and light pattering of rains that had accumulated and condensed on the paper's plastic wrapping.
The Sergeant intently stared at the map with a stoic and composed expression, eyeing every bit of it with interest as he tried his best to solve the puzzle currently burdening the movement of the entire battalion. The longer they're stuck here inside the town, the more dangerous it becomes and everyone knows it. The arbitrary rattles of LAV autocannons and the booming roars of rainstorm's multitude of thunders resounding in the distance did little to help Simon and Evan solve the dilemma impeding their much more important task at hand. After several seconds that somehow felt like an entire eternity passed, the brunette promptly shot a look towards the driver, his head recoiling back and forth as he continued gesturing towards the left side of the fork in the road ahead.
"Left! Left! Left! That way!" The Sergeant shook the still dazed Evan, loudly yelling the correct direction they're heading at with a steadfast tone just as he pointed his hand towards the left side of the road with a clear sign of urgency in his actions. The driver, seeing this, immediately nodded in response and heeded to the orders as he quickly slammed the gas pedal gleefully.
The Humvee physically recoiled forward as it quickly executed a violent turn to the left at high speed, swiftly followed behind by the rest of the 1st Recon Battalion trailing behind in their respective lightly-armored vehicles or support trucks that carried the supplies critical to the Marines' welfare. The convoy which had been stuck in a dilemma before, is once again on the move. They broke out of the traffic jam soon enough, feeling triumphant as they left behind a gridlock that would've surely killed them all if it weren't for the tanks and LAVs manning their battle positions along the streets of Arafa.
"Before we start patting ourselves on the back and giving out fucking medals and shit," Evan suddenly remarked, breaking the quiet yet triumphant atmosphere that had previously lingered within the cramped insides of the vehicle. Unusually, the talkative and boisterous driver suddenly became the voice of reason of the team, albeit for a moment. "let me remind you that we aren't out of this fuckin' shithole yet."
Everyone merely looked at him with a suppressed smile, trying to prevent it from surfacing on their euphoric faces hidden behind their respective neck-gaiters and protective goggles. Soon enough, everybody silently composed themselves from the previous rush of adrenaline and promptly returned their attention appropriately to the current task at hand. The battalion's convoy of 80-something vehicles continued to zoom past the town quietly – although occasionally broken by the obnoxious whirrs indicative of M1A1 tank's gas turbine engine – rolling through streets dotted with blackened dead bodies, fiery rubbles and pieces of rocks littering the roadsides wrecked by Marine artillery artillery barrages.
The convoy silently barreled down the road, the vehicles constantly rocking back and forth like a violent wave as they continuously trampled over the bits of bricks lying in their paths and sometimes, charred bodies of dead legionnaires and civilians alike. A wagon brightly burned amid the rainstorm by the roadside, smashed and obliterated to pieces by a flurry of luminescent high-explosive autocannons and MPAT rounds from the armor detachment's tanks and LAVs. Barely visible inside were the skeletal remains of an entire family of four, blackened and mangled beyond recognition as fiery inferno continues to consume their remains. Nobody knows why they were ruthlessly engaged by the strongpointing armors, maybe fog of war? Or maybe even just a simple, trigger happy gunner?
The question continues to linger in the mind of the Reconnaissance Marines as they solemnly drive past the horrific sight with their respective rifles warily protruding out of the windows and pointed outside in every direction possible, just in case they were ambushed by unseen assailants taking refuge in the dark alleys of the eerily quiet town – whose occupants have either fled in an exodus to the friendly lines or forced into conscription. By now, Arafa's dead silence soon paved the way for a highway leading towards an empty, grassy field ahead. The meadows flanking both sides of the road were shrouded in a perpetual twilight courtesy of the ghostly fog, still lingering and accompanied by the heavy drizzle of the rain. They had now finally left the dreaded town, with absolutely no shots ever fired at anything.
The convoy continued straight on the highway's pavement moving out of the sprawling metropolis, traveling in a neat single-line column of lightly-armored, some even with open-top Humvees and supporting MTVR supply trucks. Trailing behind were the 4 tanks of Lt. Connolly's tank platoon. Strangely enough, none of the infantry troops nor the tanks and Amtracs from RCT-5 can be seen on the outskirts of the town, as empty highway roads continue leading itself into verdant fields untouched by the wonders of the modern world, shrouded in an ominous mist and blasted by stormy winds that severely limited their field of view. The only sound audible enough to be heard is the constant pattering of rainwater against the roof of their Humvees and the sound of the vehicle's engines itself.
Then, suddenly, a faint silhouette of something faintly blinked in the distance, immediately earning the attention of the wary Marines of the 1st Recon. They intently gazed up front for a moment with a curious eye, watching as the foggy road gave way to more foggy roads. Evan was just about to poke the shoulders of Simon sitting beside him, when the previously insignificant blink in the misty distance materialized itself into a breath-taking yet terrifying sight.
Standing idly on the highway's Romanesque pavement and the grassy lot of brilliantly green fields just by the roadside were hundreds of M1A1 tanks, LAV-25s, the two-natured Amtracs and dozens worth of TOW-mounted Humvees from RCT-5 facing the moving column of the Reconnaissance Marines. Their turrets were firmly trained on their lightly-armed vehicles and trucks of the 1st Recon rolling towards them. Dug in alongside the variety of armors are the motorized and mechanized infantry of the battle force itself, as uncountable numbers of Marines sprawled by the roadsides faced the convoy with rifles, machine guns and Javelin anti-tank missiles.
Due to constant communications foul-up, general snafus and conflicting radio frequencies between the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion and Colonel Brady's RCT-5 that certainly wasn't helped by the incident earlier the day that resulted in the destruction of an entire Elven settlement at the hands of nervous reservists – whose nerves were rattled by the fog of war and confusion surrounding them, nobody within the 1st Recon's column of vehicles confidently knows for sure that the RCT Marines in front of them won't open fire nor even know they were coming in a dash straight through the hostile town behind them. For all they know, the infantry ahead could easily mistake the faint silhouettes of their stripped down Humvees pushing through Arafa for fleeing wagons packed full of legionnaires trying to escape. The friendly fire tragedy at Italica was still fresh in everyone's mind just as they rolled right into the sights of the idle tanks and LAVs up front.
Simon immediately took the initiative, as the Sergeant quickly tapped his hands multiple times on the Humvee's dashboard for further emphasis just as he yelled.
"Get down!" The previously stoic and composed Simon, whose voice is now perverted by tones indicative of a terrified person, loudly yelled as his orders promptly resounded across the Humvee's packed insides. Without any delay, everyone else within the brunette's immediately dropped to their respective seats, desperately curling into a ball in hopes that their smaller frames won't be hit by the hail of small arms bullets, autocannon rounds, tank shells and anti-tank missiles anticipated to have come next. None ever came, and the only sound that can be heard is only of those of the howling winds and rain water tapping itself into the vehicle roof.
The Humvee continued to roll itself forward with its own power, miraculously not falling off the road as the driver – currently ducked down on his seat – merely peeked his head upwards towards the front at the sudden development. The Marines of RCT-5, stunned and shocked beyond belief by 1st Recon's mad dash through the hostile town of Arafa – that not even a well-armed and bigger forces like them wouldn't dare to enter – merely held their fires in astonishment just as the lead vehicle of the battalion's column crawled to a halt. Behind the peeking Evan, Clancy slowly rose up from his seat, finally deducing it was safe. The Corpsman was clearly out of breath from the adrenaline rush indicative of his erratic breathing and flushed red face just as he spoke.
"Jesus Christ, we seriously just got fucking lucky." Clancy remarked, his voice stuttering as he spoke with a shaky tone that appropriately accompanied his erratic breathings. They have survived, not because of their skills, but rather from the Saderan legionnaire's own ineptitude and pure dumb luck.
Evan meanwhile, merely shook his head lightly in resignation, his face currently covered in a wet neck-gaiter plastered with a grim frown. Soon thereafter, he suddenly remarked, correcting Clancy's assumption with a glum tone that was juxtaposed appropriately by his darkening complexion.
"Again..."
Author's Note
SOP - Standard Operating Procedure. I already explained it in the previous chapter.
Special Olympics - Basically Olympics but for disabled people.
Lima Charlie - Loud and Clear in NATO's phonetic alphabet.
HET - Human Intelligence Exploitation Team. Guys inside the Battalion Staff Intelligence Section (S-2) that goes around asking locals important questions that's critical to the success of the mission.
(Once again, many thanks to Lewistern and capitalistpainterpyro/John for proofreading and keeping me motivated with jokes and quips in the Discord group. I apologize for the late update, considering that school has started yet again and now I'm much more busy. I'm going to be on hiatus for a couple of weeks so I'll see you guys again next time.)