A/N : Once again is being a dick, I have to shorten the title from the original to this garbage. T
The actual title is Chapter 20.2, A Charge Through Verdant Fields
The Principal MSR Leading to the Saderan Fort. April 9th (0850).
Speeding through the rocky dirt path at 65km/h and weaving past the continuous lines of verdant hedgerows and luxuriant tall grasses flanking both side of the road, the Marines of Bravo Company grimly carried on with their rushed assault on the fort in resigned silence, even after the questionable change of ROE were aired over the battalion's net. Behind the long column of Bravo's vehicles, the Humvees and trucks of Alpha Company along with the attached tank platoon of Lt. Connolly's, suddenly skirted to the right amid their nerve-wracking journey and swiftly smashed themselves into the roadside vegetation messily in a hurry. The mission of Alpha Company and their accompanying armors, that is of setting up a support-by-fire position to aid the main assaulting forces – Bravo and Charlie Company – was clear as a day in the mind of Second Platoon's men and also provided a reassurance that maybe, Godfather knew what he's actually pulling off. That information however, wasn't made known to a certain albino reporter in the back of Simon's Humvee, though.
The Traveler merely stared in confusion from his cramped seat, as the previously visible lines of Alpha's varying vehicles and attached tank support start to disappear behind the thick, magnificent lines of viridescent hedgerows and hilly foliage right of the road they're traveling on. Soon enough, their outlines slowly grew feeble and hazy as the Humvee continued on lumbering past, before completely disappearing in the background of the dominating feature of the orange-hued sky of the morning : its sun, slowly rising through the clear skies.
"Where are those guys going?!" The journalist audibly called out with an ever-curious tone to the brunette sitting in front of him, his steely eyes and stoic gaze eyeing continuously scanning the tall grasses for any signs of intruding enemies. The same, picturesque grasses and hedgerows that reeked off tranquility moments ago, were smashed apart by the various vehicles of Alpha Company.
"They're going to some small elevated hilly field a couple hundred meters to the east to set up an overwatch and also a support-by-fire position, so they can aid us in our assault." The composed brunette coolly hollered back a reply to the inquisitive albino, as he pressed his green eyes onto the RCO ACOG scope of his M4A1, peering through the cylindrical sight before he cautiously scanned the lush grassy plains that made up the roadside's vast network of interconnected vegetations and magnificent knee-high grasses.
Suddenly chipping into the duo's conversation with an almost blank, serene expression plastered on his face, the unusually quiet Evan spoke to the Traveler and continued on with the explanation on Simon's behalf.
"It's not like those 4 tanks gonna do anything anyway, the fort's a fucking closed, walled-off structure which means they can move jack-shit inside." He blankly remarked in contrast to his usual talkative facade, before gesturing towards the still unseen fort ahead through the Humvee's old and dusty windshield before continuing on. "At least they can help us with a support-by-fire position as our overwatch."
"Good, looks like your backwater illiterate fucking retarded redneck genes seemes to have been adapting to be more eloquent when speaking." Amidst his stoic gaze outside, cautiously scanning the long, vast rows of verdant fields of grasses lining the roadside, Simon merely breathed out a deadpanned sarcastic remark as his own reply to the driver's unusually thoughtful explanation – a stark contrast to the usual ramblings with regards to Jeffrey Epstein reincarnation in the new world and how Bill Clinton is connected to it.
Evan merely responded back to the sarcastic banter of his team leader with a hearty chuckle, as the previously stoic and blank face of his slowly contorted into an amused grin. Before he could reply with anything similar in regards of sarcasticness, an abrupt swoosh of air suddenly swept through the local atmosphere in an ear-splitting symphony of steadily loudening roar and rumbling up skywards, similarly audible yet vastly different in its intensity from the earlier barrage zooming through the orange, almost blue skies of the morning.
Immediately made aware of the sudden intrusion of such abrupt rumblings through the skies above not even a moment after it curtly crash through the atmosphere with its incredibly loud roar, they were promptly greeted by a slightly relieving sight of a certain peculiar allied attack jet of the US Air Force, as the two warplanes swiftly zoomed past the relatively long column of venerable, concerningly lightly-armored trucks and Humvees of 1st Recon Battalion in pairs and in their wake, vapor trails were left hanging mid-air as a reminder of their brief and hurried transit through the eye-sights of the men of Second Platoon. Instead of heartily smiling in visible relief at the sudden, unexpected appearance of the aircraft supporting their assault into the Saderan fort – perhaps thought to have been manned by a legion-size of hostile uniformed men and irregulars, the Recon Marines simply responded to their advent with a concerned expression, their complexion darkening at the emergence of the sky's apex predator with clear apprehension, as the jets were none other than the age-old A-10s.
After witnessing first hand the extremely deadly friendly fire incident amidst the charge into Italica a week ago, of which one of the A-10 inexplicably poured a devastating hail of armor-piercing depleted uranium rounds along with the destructive Maverick missiles onto a friendly Marine AAV mounting an assault with an infantry squad – wiped out almost entirely by the strafing and missile run in a maelstrom of fires and cooking munitions – riding in its back for seemingly unexplained reason, their concern and grim apprehension quickly greeting the jets' arrival were understandable and perhaps, even justified entirely.
"Do we have any ways of communicating with those A-10?" Simon grimly asked the only radiotelephone operator inside the vehicle, who also happens to be the usually talkative driver of the Humvee.
His eyes keenly followed the dazzling vapor contrails of the two attack jets, watching it with a well-concealed glumness as they effortlessly soared through the orange-bluish morning sky just as Evan spoke up with a reply to his previous question, and his answer is quite disappointingly grim.
"Negative." The driver responded quickly as he hunched over the wheel of the Humvee, his eyes occasionally reversing back and forth between keeping a sight of the road ahead and trailing the A-10 pair surging past with an expression of strangely amused grimness. "We don't have jack shit to talk with them."
"Those jets are air force," Simon merely shook his head with an ill-concealed aura of disbelief and disappointment at the blank reply of his compatriot, his hands meanwhile preoccupied with multitasking between his radio headset, the map sheet and comms with the A-10s weaving past. "their hobbies include shooting Marines for no reason at all."
"Fuckin' excellent." Gloomily heaving out a quippy chuckle, Evan was swift to respond back to the stoic, aloof remark of his brunette team leader in a nonchalant, deadpanned sarcastic manner.
His blank and numb, almost emotionless tone is certainly a contrast of his usual cheery self, perhaps as a result of having his nerves frayed from staying up all night driving through hazy, rocky roads of the countryside before taking part in the fort's last minute assault courtesy of Godfather's reckless decision-making. The Traveler's bright crimson eyes silently furrowed at Evan's dry sarcasm, not saying anything but instead choosing to note the sudden change in his journalism notebook. Way ahead of them, the pair of A-10s abruptly broke away from its relatively calm course through the chilly morning sky as they steadily climbed higher into the heavens above, their greyish silhouettes slowly growing fainter and fainter, before finally disappearing as two mere indiscernible dots high in the cloudless dimension skywards.
As if on cue, an orchestra of crackles and booms suddenly reverberated through the chilly air feebly, its deathly thunderous roar faint enough to be barely heard by the Marines as the rumblings of tires striking against the unpaved dirt path and the whirrs of the engines belonging to the lightly-armored and open-top vehicles inside the convoy of 1st Recon racing down the countryside road muffled away the furious symphony of the attack jets. It sounded less like the characteristic "BRRRRT" that they've heard prior to the deadly friendly fire incident on a certain RCT-5's AAV back in Italica, and more of a series of pops resounding faintly in the distance. It seemed to be that the planes had just dropped cluster bombs within the proximity of their objective, they thought.
"I sure hope we don't fucking run over an unexploded sub-munition, that'd fucking suck man." Quizzically staring outside, almost blankly, towards the direction of which the resounding series of faint crackles of the cluster munitions reverberated from, Clancy merely remarked with an amused tone as he remained hunched over his M4A1 pointed outside to the vehicle's left – his sector of fire.
"No shit," Evan simply responded to the red-haired Corpsman's remark with a slightly sardonic scoff, before sarcastically gesturing his gloved fingers towards horizon ahead, towards the still unseen fort of which they're about to blast their way in before slightly stealing a glance of the rough – badly made – map of the objective in Simon's hand. "you really had to fucking jinx that shit don't you, Doc?"
Just then, Evan once again spoke, this time to the team leader, as he stole a glance of the sight of the stoic Simon quietly studying the rough map of the objective, his unfazed attention occasionally alternating between the thick grassy vegetations lining the lush roadside outside and the plastic-covered sheet of the fort's layout.
"Hey, according to the map, the fort's got to have a fucking wall or some shit," Stealing a glance out of the map fluttering from the breezy winds outside, Evan suddenly remarked as he beckoned towards the brunette and the map in his hand. "we might, no, certainly need a fuckload of C-4s to blast through the fucking shit."
The driver's head swiveled to his right once again, his face seemingly in search of something as he continued on with his remark, this time directed to Clancy.
"Where did we stash our C-4s again?"
"Bro, fuck am I supposed to know?" The perplexed Corpsman immediately shot back, shrugging simply as his response of "I don't know" to the inquisitive driver, before promptly averting his attention and gaze back – along with the rifle in his grip – to the lush, verdant plains outside.
Seeing the confused and perplexed expression plastered on the face of the usually cheerful and mischievously talkative driver, Simon finally chipped into the conversation stoically.
"It's stashed below the Traveler's seat." Spontaneously turning his attentive gaze away from the luxuriant foliages lining the roadside outside and towards the Traveler sitting behind his seat, Simon immediately beckoned his head towards the hidden C-4 in question.
Although, however, C-4 just so happens to be stashed directly under the uncomfortably small sitting of the journalist – along with other supplies and equipments Simon's team brought for their lightning blitzkrieg to Sadera – and to add insult to the wound, due to the cramped interior of their vehicle, it looked as if it's impossible to be reached by them right now. Finally getting to see the explosives' incredibly claustrophobic storage, Evan simply responded to the team leader's nonchalant beckoning with an amused, sarcastic snort.
"Hey dude, can you like, lift your ass up in a hurry if we ever need those fucking shit-blower or somethin'?" Evan, now apparently back into his usual cheerful facade amidst their rush to the fort, sarcastically remarked cheerily as he gestured to the perplexed journalist who in turn, took his quip a bit too literally.
The Traveler swiftly attempted to get up, only his head to be abruptly greeted by the vehicle's rusty roof. Fortunately enough, his kevlar helmet mostly absorbed most of the impact, though that didn't stop the clueless albino from trying his best to surge out of his seat to reach for the C-4s, much to the amusement of the trio of 2 Marines and 1 Corpsman all around him.
"Traveler, you just can't get to those explosives, stop trying." Simon snidely remarked before turning it much softer and reassuring, his composed expression and stoic face trying its best to conceal his urge to break out in laughter at the albino's clueless but incredibly resolved attempt to reach for the explosives. "I don't see any offense in you not getting those anyway, we can get those shit later when we roll up to the objective and stop."
Soon enough, the cackle of laughter and amused wheezes from the trio directed at the seemingly clueless albino journalist promptly stopped at the word of their brunette NCO, and thus, the previous tense silence once again returned and enveloped the vehicle in its gloomy sensation yet again. In spite of their lethal, ongoing mission, the grassy hilly terrain all around them is incredibly idyllic, with its ever-extending viridescent hedgerows and lush rolling plains dominating the mountainous plateau landscape. Now back to their previous state of gazing outside, peering through their rifle scopes as they scanned the roadsides by their MSR with keen eye for any hostile, the men inside the Humvee lumbering through the rural path can't help but feel mesmerized, by the winking golden hues of the morning sun and the picturesque nature, as the orange light brilliantly covered its shining rays upon the tranquil fields, their knee-high grasses extended as far as the Marines' eyes could see into the horizon beyond.
However, just then, as fate would have it, the tranquility of the landscape was immediately broken by an abrupt and sudden series of loud continuous rattle resounding from the battalion's convoy itself. The familiar sharp, metallic pops continued on uninterrupted amid the drive to the fort with its deathly symphony just as the Marines of Hitman 2-1 figured out the source of the seemingly incessant orchestra of angry bangs and clatters much to their bewilderment : Gunfire. Marine Gunfire. A furious roar of a rifle in its automatic mode panickedly blasting away at the wilderness lining the road, to be exact.
Subconsciously and just like in their training, they naturally tensed up amid the symphony of gunfire, their faces calm and composed yet at the same time, apprehensive as they keenly listened onto the incessant barrage of rattlings. Their fingers was swift to react to the ceaseless rattle as it subtly neared the trigger and with it, the safety of their respective weapons – the only thing preventing the now nervous and edgy Marines inside from suddenly blasting away at the harmonious nature and lush fields of green grasses by the roadsides. Much to their confusion and frustration though, despite continuously scanning the natural hedgerows and knee-high tall grasses by the rural path intentfully, they quite literally see nothing that indicates an enemy ambush, patrolling Saderan legionnaires or something similar of sorts.
Only rolling patches of verdant, grassy fields that extended as far as their eyes could see into the viridescent horizon stood below the orange hues of the morning sunlight amid the barrage of furious gunfire, its dazzling red tracers continuously raking what had been a tranquil, picturesque hilly plains in a solid wall of 5.56 NATO. In the distance ahead of the convoy, the gloomy, stone outlines of the Saderan fort – their objective, slowly rose over the scenic nature, insignificantly towering over the meadows all around slightly with its relatively sizeable walls and guards tower – barely discernible from the Alpine background of the Dumas Mountains from the Marines' current position.
As if on cue to accompany the sudden furious roar of gunfire among the convoy, the dusty box-like radio on the venerable Humvee's center console abruptly came to life with a barrage of buzzes and crackles directed at the Marines inside, much to their quizzical bewilderment. Not even a moment later, the device audibly resounded with a certain voice from the other side, the man's panicked and nervous tone clearly audible to be heard by the now, the irritated and somewhat disappointed men inside the vehicle. Quizzically wheezing in amused bewilderment and tiredly groaning at what they perceive to be the literal embodiment of the word "retard", each one of the Marines riding inside the vehicle can't help but shot a glance of clear disdain at device broadcasting the extremely agitated voice of Lt. Superman.
"Look at this gents, Hitman-3's absolutely wonderful commander." Simon snidely snorted in a sarcastic manner at the buzzing radio, his face still composed albeit barely as he simply shook his head in disappointment at the man's borderline retarded decision to suddenly spray his rifle out of Humvee, all while racing through what would otherwise been a picturesque scenery of fields and hedgerows amid their last minute assault to the fort. "The model officer in the entire Marine Corps."
"God save us, we got this fucking retard guarding the company's rear flank." Also joining into the barrage of disdained sarcasm and deriding quips directed at the certain platoon commander of their sister unit, Evan amusedly heave out a hearty snicker just as he stole a glance of the rambling radio, clogged and smeared with the panicked voice of the severely agitated Lieutenant and accompanied appropriately by a long burst of gunfire in the background as his platoon continued on rolling directly behind Second Platoon.
"Enemy! Enemy! Contact all sides! They're coming from all sides!"
"I say again to all Hitman Victors! They're coming from all sides!"
Several vehicles down the single-file convoy of Bravo Company's varying vehicles preoccupied with rocketing down the bumpy rural road leading to their objective, merely represented in the faint form of barely discernible stone structure in the horizon ahead, is none other than the source of the sudden furious roar of gunfire itself : the Company's Third Platoon, or to be more precise, its Command Humvee carrying Hitman-3's commander whose competence and ability to command itself, is questionable along with some Marines unlucky enough to be riding along with him within the cramped confines of the venerable vehicle.
Though the atmosphere throughout the entirety of the battalion's rocky journey to their assigned objective had been quietly tense and apprehensive so far from the orders to assault the supposedly heavily defended fort that came directly from both their battalion commander – who in turn, got it from the Divisional commander of the 1st Marine Division himself, same couldn't be said for the now extremely agitated commander of Bravo Company's Third Platoon, Lt. Richman or as he's much better known by his derisive moniker given by none other than Marines under his quite incapable command : Lt. Superman. Seemingly caught up in the spirit of the free-fire zone issued earlier by Godfather, the officer was swift in his action to frantically protrude the barrel of his M4A1 out of the window of his venerable Humvee, before immediately going to town with it just as he began hollering panicked commands onto the radio nearby, much to the chagrin of his men riding inside the same vehicle as him.
"All Hitman Victors! Be advised this is Hitman-3! We are engaging concealed enemy position along the MSR, break!"
Frantic strings of red tracers rapidly flew out of the officer's rifle barrel in a quick methodical manner, the hail of intermediate rounds coming out of it swiftly raking the grassy roadsides all around and tearing the natural hedgerows lining the uneven path asunder with lead. The disdain of the men riding along with their certainly idiotic platoon commander could only grow from his newest antics, as continuous succession of gunfires – followed by quick reload, something the somewhat trigger-happy incompetent officer just so happens to be good at – rang within their ears, as its rattle continued on accompanying the panicked action as the relatively small maelstrom of fire blasted away towards what had been a mesmerizing sight of ever-extending green verdant foliages lining the path to the fort, the veridescent leaves occasionally bespeckled by the moist morning dew.
Leaves and branches, along with soil and miniscule yet deadly stones blown skyhigh by the sudden barrage of gunfire coming from the moving Humvee, which in turn, furiously flew back towards the lumbering venerable vehicle in the form of small, lethal pieces of shrapnels en-masse much to the annoyance and ill-concealed anger of the Marines who was unfortunate enough to be sharing the same ride as their much derided platoon commander.
"Sir, what the fuck are you shooting at!?" Doc Finnian Miles, the ill-tempered petite Corpsman of the platoon who just so happens to be in the same vehicle as Lt. Superman, angrily bellowed out towards the panicked Lieutenant seemingly not held back in his incessant session of spray and pray at the roadsides. "We are getting ricochets you fucking dumbfuck!"
Not withholding his badly-concealed anger at the dangerous action of his superior anymore, the blue-eyed Corpsman angrily insulted the officer as his exasperated yet intentful eyes furiously darted back and forth between the thin canvas covering the back of their Humvee being torn apart by the ricocheting debris and the officer in front, as he attempted to avoid being struck by the lethal pieces of stones and branches cutting through the vehicle at incredible speed. His last resort attempt to have the man cease his fire, was unfortunately in vain, as the Lieutenant, too distracted by his own symphony of lead and mindless fear, continued on with the barrage of gunfire tearing through the previously verdant knee-high grasses lining the MSR.
It wasn't until the driver of the vehicle itself, similarly fed up and furious at the clear act of incompetence of their superior nearby, intervene on the behalf of the platoon's Corpsman for the officer to finally cease his wild shootings. As he stared deep into the Lieutenant's somewhat panicked eyes, the driver of the Humvee, Lance Corporal Lorenzo Martinez, abruptly interrupted the man's wild barrage with a bewildered remark.
"Sir, why are you shooting at those hedgerows by the MSR?" Martinez simply inquired in clear bewilderment at the officer's, a note of belligerence audibly laced within his voice as his eyes occasionally darted back and forth between the road ahead of them and the fear-stricken officer sitting in the passenger seat to his right.
"Denying the enemy concealment and ambush points!" The answer from the breathless, barely-composed officer was brief and quick, before immediately returning to his earlier actions, his rifle blazing away at the roadsides by the rural path they're driving on.
"What?" Martinez eyes simply squinted in disbelief at the quick and breathless response from the still agitated officer who merely ignored it in his free-fire zone spirit and by nowz had returned to blasting the vegetations lining the road to tiny pieces, much to the clear chagrin of the Corpsman in the back of the Humvee coming under ricochets of stones and small splinters.
"What in the fuck is this guy doing, bro?" Doc Miles exasperatedly asked the similarly bewildered driver, his M4A1 slowly clutching and tensing within his gloved hands as a subconscious response to the ceaseless zinging of debris punching through the Humvee's back canvas, like a butter through hot knife. "This idiot's trying to get us killed."
Already given up on any hope he previously had for their platoon commander, the Mexican driver of the Humvee merely shrugged unknowingly in response to the short inquiry by the Corpsman, his lips slowly mouthing the words "I don't fucking know." as a form of reply to the exasperated Doc Miles. The journey to the fort continued on, and with it, the constant unstoppable gunfire frantically spat out by the frenzied officer riding with them.
Soon enough, in spite of the earlier distractions such as the abrupt artillery fire mission ahead of their advance down the countryside road, the A-10s' lobbing of cluster munitions within the objective's outskirts and the recent barrage of lead coming from none other than the infamous Lt. Superman himself towards the nearby hedgerows, the previously faint outlines of the fort ahead slowly grew larger and larger, before finally revealing its actual albeit gloomy, stone structure visibly seen from the Marines of 1st Recon as their column steadily edged closer to the fort, their fingers on their respective rifles subconsciously tensing at the sight of fantastical Romanesque building – of which none of them, ever expected to be assaulted by them.
Further ahead up the column of Bravo Company's vehicle and luckily spared from the fuck-ups unfolding within the cramped confines of Hitman-3's Command Humvee, the point vehicle of the battalion convoy, a certain brunette's Hitman 2-1, suddenly skirted to the left towards the lines of hedgerows by the roadside. Following behind were the other vehicles of the Second Platoon, and shortly later on, all of Bravo and Charlie Company were preoccupied mirroring this exact maneuver, as the lightly-armored Humvees and MTVR supply trucks smashed their way through the verdant vegetation much to the annoyance and slight amusement of the Marines inside, as they continued on with their nerve-wracking journey as they edged ever closer towards their objective. Inexplicably, much to the confusion of some, none of the supposed legion-sized Saderan defenders were up in the mighty guard towers, or hiding behind the foliages they had just punched through. Perhaps they are hiding, patiently waiting for the Marines to ride directly into the mouth of their ambush?
"I thought we were in a fucking Safari ride for a moment, dude." Unable to resist the urge to heave out a goofy remark amidst their tense charge towards the supposedly heavily defended fort, Evan casually pointed out as their Humvee, along with other vehicles within the column, smashes its way through the vegetation and hedgerows that seemingly blocked their way to the objective.
"Must've reminded you of your backwards redneck cotton fields down in Mississippi." Simon immediately shot back wittily with a sardonic quip of his own, his unmoving steely gaze staring outside of the cramped vehicle, silently eyeing the Romanesque structure as it slowly became bigger and bigger ahead of them in slight apprehension.
"Definitely." Clancy was quick to chip into the conversation with a deadpanned voice on the side of the stoic team leader, his gaze outside unmoving at all as he returned to the previous, silent state of his.
To their immediate front after they had made the sudden turn to the left towards the fort, lay fallen trees and blackened remains of grasses and soil thrown skyhigh by the earlier the attack jets' cluster bombing run – a clear blemish to what would otherwise been a picturesque imagery of hilly patch of lush, fantastical plains. The Humvee, followed by the rest of the column which by now, had formed up into a long, horizontal line of vehicles side-by-side, with the gunners manning their turrets orienting their heavy machine guns and automatic grenade launchers towards the Romanesque fort, raced through the rolling fields of verdantly green knee-high grasses and the mangled blown-up vegetations impacted by the earlier curt bombardment, as they went on rolling over the charred branches on their way to the objective much to their bewildered amusement. From what they can see right now, it is absolutely clear that the A-10s, along with the artillery rounds lobbed over their heads and towards these meadows earlier, had missed the objective by a wide margin to their clear disbelief. Evidently, and unlike the warplanes' still relatively accurate bombing run as indicated by tiny pieces of bomb shells laying about within the bushes, the suppression fire mission doesn't even land anywhere close to their target at all, as it had flew further significantly further away – far out of the Marines' sight – than its intended target.
"Un-fucking-beliveable," Clancy snorted in disdain as they raced past the blown-up remains of grasses and vegetations scattered about, seemingly distraught by the wide margin of which the artillery and cluster bombs that had been called in missed. "you'd think a motherfucking Senior NCO like our First Sergeant to at least know how to fucking call in artillery after all those decades inside the Marines, huh?"
"Nuh-uh," Evan suddenly chipped in a sardonic tone of belligerence to Clancy's distraught remark, as he brashly mocked the use of air and artillery on this empty, characteristic patch of grassy field they're rolling on with a cheery sarcastic voice. "not retarded enough!"
Behind them and well concealed by the green foliages that made up the majority of the vegetation on the hilly patch of lush, verdant plain is Alpha Company along with 4 of their escorting tank platoon, the barely discernible outline of their mighty metallic snout protruding out of the elevated hedgerows overlooking the fort and their assaulting sister company – Bravo and Charlie Company – spearheading the lethal charge into the objective itself. With air and artillery support out of question due to fears of unintentional friendly fire courtesy of how uncomfortably close the Recon Marines are edging ever closer to the Romanesque structures, all hopes of support-by-fire for them to blast their way through would have to come from Captain Wileman's unit lying silently within their overwatch position.
As they cruised past what would otherwise been a scenic patch of greenish fields devastated by the liberal albeit badly directed use of artillery and air support, the radio once again came to life just as the long, horizontal lines of 1st Recon Humvees stretching into the horizon beyond maneuver into their linear attack formation to seize the fort, their respective rides aligned side-by-side. The man on the other side of the device broadcasting over the company's channel, Captain Walt, reassuringly reminded his subordinates with a calm and collected voice just as the previously faint outlines of the objective's structure, steadily grew larger until the scenery behind it was fully blocked by its mighty guard towers and massive stone walls, and precisely right now, the Recon Marines are going to head straight into the grandiose structure in question all while riding tensely in their lightly-armed vehicles.
"Alright gents, keep your heads level and maintain your speed and dispersion."
"All Hitman Victors, stay on the line!" Not even a second passed after the broadcasting of the company commander's reassuring voice, when yet another transmission from the radio immediately followed suit apprehensively by the man. For a certain journalist inside the point vehicle of the battalion, it seemingly dawned on him that this is time, their assault certainly going to be different than the previous engagements and thunder runs back in Arafa and Italica respectively.
Not even a moment after the Traveler suddenly dwelled on the prospect of assaulting a potentially heavily defended fort filled with magic Romans, the rocky movement of the brunette's Humvee abruptly snapped the journalist out of his deep train of thought as they smashed their way through a muddy ditch, sending mucky dirt and soil flying towards the vehicle's front bumper in liquid-like shades of brown and black. To their immediate front, is none other than their massive objective itself, which previously had been nothing other than a distant silhouette of a stone structure. As if on cue to punctuate their arrival before the mighty walls of the Romanesque fort, the radio neatly stashed on the dusty center console suddenly rang out with the resolved, authoritative voice of their platoon commander Lt. Mistral.
"All Hitman-2 Victors, maintain speed and dispersion, target building is 500 meters to the front, break! Hitman-3 will be holding our flank and the company's." As the Humvees of the Second Platoon neatly lined up side-by-side for their charge into the entrance of the fort, the authoritative Lt. Mistral determinedly spoke on the radio with clear instructions, as his fingers subtly tensed up on his already tight grip of his rifle and the radio handset, his intentful eye keenly eyeing the structure in awe as they steadily inched closer to the jaws of the guard towers – and the defenders manning it perhaps.
Strangely enough and much to the confusion of the tensed up Marines expecting for their unwelcomed arrival to be greeted by a hail of arrows and magical munitions, even as the previously linear convoy of Humvees formed up into a line formation for their charge into the seemingly empty fort, none of the expected legionnaire and mage defenders ever popped up from the guard towers and the structure's mighty walls as slowly, the vehicles rolled to a halt directly before the objective. The wooden doors of the structure entrance were left seemingly open forlornly, and the fort itself seemed to be deserted. Not a single sight of a defending Saderan could be seen anywhere on the objective, either running about or manning their assigned position as they faced the assaulting other-worlders head on. The whole grandiose place screamed nothing but abandoned.
Before they could even let loose a wall of lead, the faces of the assaulting men of 1st Recon, already anticipating a barrage of enemy projectiles to be flying towards their lightly-armored rides in epic proportions, merely contorted into one of confusion and quizzically amused just as the radio buzzed, with some rather, bizarre reports coming in from the now perplexed team leaders under Lt. Mistral umbrella of command.
"Hitman-2 this is 2-1, uhh I got two ballistae on those guard towers directly above the entrance, over." Peering out of his rifle's RCO ACOG sight in clear bewilderment masked beneath his stoic facade, Simon merely spoke into his radio headset's mic in confusion similar to his fellow subordinates crammed together with him inside the vehicle. He keenly eyed the structure ahead, trying to make sure that the fort is indeed deserted and wasn't any mind-games from his sleep-deprived brain.
Already expecting for their arrival to be met by a hail of arrow and magical projectile straight out of a fantastical comic book, Evan simply reacted to the sudden development of their assault with a nervous snort, as he quizzically stared ahead towards the empty, forlorn structure ahead of them in confusion just as the radio rang to life with the voice of their composed, yet obviously confused Lieutenant along with some other similarly bewildered transmission of the platoon's varying team leaders. Soon enough, the communication net steadily became clogged with wildly amused and bewildered voices of Marines inside the company as their side-by-side line formation of neatly arrayed lightly-armed Humvees screeched to a quiet halt.
"Affirmative, 2-1."
"They appear to be stationary with no personnel manning them, seems to be abandoned."
"Hitman 2-3 to Hitman 2, I got several what appears to be primitive Roman-like pillboxes and small trenches by the objective, appears to be abandoned like those ballistae."
"Copy that Hitman 2-1, 2-3, out."
However, as strange and disappointing as the new development in regards to their last-minute assault on what was supposed to be heavily-defended fort, with legion-sized defenders reinforced further by elite mages of the Empire to be the host greeting unwelcome visitors of Recon Marines in lightly-armed Humvees, they were clearly thankful and relieved deep inside for they were spared from dying at the hands of reckless decisions of their glory-hound rash commanders. The nerve-wracking tenseness of the assault soon disappeared, replaced in its place by grim disappointment at both the lack of action, and how they had just survived what otherwise would have been a tooth-and-nail fight by sheer luck.
As the majestic alien sun grew higher and casted its brilliant orange-yellowish solar light upon the now idle Humvees and trucks of 1st Recon's assaulting forces halting before the objective itself, it brightly shone on the forlorn walls that made up the grandiose fort's structure, with verdant aging moss growing out of the stones and primitive bricks of the stronghold's seemingly abandoned guard tower. Not a single living enemy could be seen as far as their eyes could see. High above, with contrails trailing faintly out of their peculiar engines, the A-10s made one final pass over the rows of stopped vehicles without ever firing its characteristic 30mm rotary cannon on the objective, before banking south and away from the battalion, until it finally disappeared as a tiny, insignificant dot on the clear morning sky.
The only sounds audible enough to be heard besides the chatter on the radio reporting varying weaponry and ancient warmachines abandoned, are the faint, calming rustling of the verdant hedgerows and the knee-high grasses all around them from the mountainous breeze sweeping through the valleys. Once again, the war staggered the Marines of Hitman 2-1 with its disjointed, completely arbitrary shifts between violent action and peaceful repose. They felt like an intruder on this beautiful morning.
Just then, amidst the majestic sunrise, the grim numbness returned hauntingly. The entire 1st Reconnaissance Battalion had been lucky—again. Disaster was averted not by their own skill, but by Saderan ineptitude and unwillingness to fight.
Before the Marines could celebrate of the fact that they had just seized a fort, with zero casualties amidst the beautiful sunrise and dwell further on the grim prospect of surviving what otherwise would have been a lethal assault by sheer luck and the cowardice of the defending Saderans, the distant sound of a Humvee door opening ahead of them and the quizzical yelling by a certain red-haired Clancy at the vehicle's back abruptly interrupted the brunette's sightseeing of the mesmerizing nature and alerted him, as the Corpsman bemusedly spoke. The sailor's fingers are pointed directly towards the front, towards a figure strutting across the field before the stronghold's age-old deserted entrance.
It's none other than Hitman-3's Lt. Superman.
"Oh shit, check it out bros." Clancy suddenly snickered in amusement as he shifted in his seat to get, as his curious eye slowly trailed the movement of the much derided figure inside their company in an amused display of disbelief. "To your 12, we got Third Platoon's CO running around with a loaded rifle in his fucking hands."
"He got his fucking bayonets out on his M4's barrel." Watching the clownery ahead with a barely-concealed disdain hidden well under his stoic mask, Simon merely observed the officer in an aloof and snidely manner – now discovered to be dramatically holding his M4A1 rifle with bayonets shoddily fixed to barrel in a failed attempt to be menacing. "He's thinking he's the fucking Rambo or somethin'."
As the certain officer of the Third Platoon exaggeratedly charged ahead towards the empty, deserted stronghold with a showy menacing facade laid over his complexion, he abruptly turned back towards the now bewildered and wildy amused rows of Marines inside their idle Humvees watching his antics. Still caught up in the indomitable spirit of the free-fire zone issued by the battalion commander himself, Lt. Superman then frantically fumbled around with his hands, as he dramatically waved it forward like an action hero as he continued on with his over-aggressive approach to clearing out an abandoned fort.
"Attack! Attack! Attack!" The Lieutenant loudly yelped over to the bemused Marines inside the rows of Humvees behind him, before promptly sliding back the charging handle of his rifle. Shoddily placing it on his hips in a rush like an African rebel, the officer promptly pressed the trigger hard, and wild streaks of red tracers were swiftly let loose out of the M4A1's barrel as it intensely shook the badly placed bayonet.
The man paid no heed to the rubbish placement of his sole melee weapon and his own dramatic, over-aggressive antics as he once again turned towards the men behind him, still inside their Humvees as they merely observed his shenanigans from afar with a mixed expression of guffawing amusement and clear confusion. Feeling content with himself as he relentlessly sprayed the mossy age-old stone that made up the guard towers with 5.56 lead, he once again dramatically yelled as if he was an epic action hero.
"Follow my tracers! FIRE!" He loudly hollered down the grassy fields just before the fort itself, his face plastered with determination and clear resolve as he continued on with his shenanigans much to the amusement of the Marines watching. "Men! Charge ahead!"
Watching through entire antic in wild amazement at the unfolding stupidity, the gunner of Hitman 2-1, Kirito merely remarked in clear confusion at the man's over-aggressive, dramatic lone charge that shattered any sense of tranquility on this what otherwise would have been an extremely peaceful and calming morning.
"Why the fuck is he shooting at deserted old-ass towers?" Kirito simply remarked in disbelief, as he observed the officer's relentless spraying of his bayonet-equipped rifle on the mossy walls surrounding the fort itself.
"Can you fucking believe they let this motherfucking retard out of OCS and put him in charge of a Recon Platoon?" Bemusedly watching the sins of incompetence being commited by the officer several dozen meters ahead from their idle Humvee, Evan merely reacted to the unbelievable dramatic antics ahead with an audible guffaw of wildly amused disbelief as he turned towards the stoic Simon, but nonetheless entertained by the antic as indicated by the slight smile creeping on his usually composed face.
"Jesus, man." The brunette simply whistled in slight delight that accompanied his clearly disappointed voice, as his eyes trailed the over-dramatic officer who by now and much to the relief of the bemused Marines inside, had stopped with his amusing action hero-like hip-firing of the rifle. "Fucker thinks he's John Basilone's reincarnation when he laid that fucking lame-ass FPF over those venerable walls. "
Clancy meanwhile, reacted simply to the ending of the officer's showy ordeal by a hearty, delighted snicker as he merely his head in clear disapproval, his actions mirrored by a certain albino journalist to his side who by now, had his personal camera whipped out and pointed towards the Lieutenant in question.
Unfortunately for the men inside the cramped Humvee of the brunette, their relief at the sudden ceasing of the officer's theatrical and showy antics was extremely short-lived as with his automatic rifle spray done, the Lieutenant hurried jogged over towards their vehicle with a determined and resolved face much to the dismay of the already disappointed Marines of Hitman 2-1.
Stopping by Evan's driver cab breathless and hurried, Lt. Superman let no moment go to waste as he immediately spoke to the distraught occupants of the vehicle excitedly.
"Engage those foot mobiles!" The officer excitedly ordered the clearly bewildered gunner, as he fumbled with his hand gripping on the rifle before gesturing towards a faint, tiny human-like silhouette in the distant expanse occasionally hidden by the swaying and rustling of the knee-high grasses and hedgerows from the chilly mountainous breeze.
Kirito merely narrowed his eyes as a response to the sudden breathless and excited arrival of the officer and the ensuing order that followed in its immediate wake, as he stared down the sea of verdant green surrounding them and the fort. With some mental gymnastics hastily calculated within his mind to find the accurate likely range of the silhouettes far-off in the distance, the gunner simply answered with a deadpanned voice in an attempt to hide his ever-increasing contempt at the Third Platoon's officer.
"Sir, those suspected foot mobiles are likely to be around, say, 2500-2700 meters away give or take." Kirito was quick to point it out with a blank, deadpanned complexion as he gestured towards the suspected foot mobiles in question before returning his attention to the still breathless officer with his eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, much to the disappointment of the pumped-up showy Lieutenant. "The maximum range of my Mark-19 is around 2200."
Not keen on giving up, the excited Lt. Superman immediately interjected with a dismissive voice as his swift, breathless reaction to the gunner's quite reasonable remark.
"Well, move into position!" The officer, unfazed and still confident with regards to his recent judgments upon hearing the reasonably short explanation of the clearly bewildered gunner, swiftly shot back with a dismissive tone – evidently still pumped up and excited from being caught within the indomitable spirit of the entire AO being declared a free-fire zone. "Engage! Engage!"
With that final, less than rational, directive of his being given to the dismayed and quizzically bemused Marines of Hitman 2-1, the officer finally ceased his overly dramatic shenanigans and showy action-hero-like bayonet charge in the wake of their unexpectedly easy assault on the fort, as the Lieutenant slowly peeled away from his posture by the wildly confused men inside the Humvee, still energetic and excited as he hurriedly jogged back to his similarly perplexed platoon, with orders occasionally hollered down to his disdainful subordinate much to the relief of the troops in the Second Platoon. Simply observing the care-free attitude of Lt. Superman as he walked away from he and his team in silent bewilderment, the gunner of the brunette's Humvee merely responded to the given order by slightly shaking his head in disapproval, before quickly dropping down from the turret cupola with his attentive gaze set on his team leader, whose eyes are peering keenly through his rifle scope as he quietly observed the verdantly green horizon extending ahead as far as their eyes could see.
"Sergeant, should I light those shit up with the Mark-19?" The perplexed gunner apprehensively asked the quiet team leader, his impassive, observant eyes peering through the rifle scope of his as he silently gazed ahead into the sea of green in the horizon beyond keenly. "Doesn't really like a foot mobile, or even a human for me."
"No, don't." Simon immediately interjected at the mere mention of the request, his terse voice coming off the remark calm and composed as his stoic eyes peered straight through the sights mounted on his grenade-equipped rifle, intently observing the supposed foot mobiles as said by the officer earlier. "Those aren't foot mobiles, those are fucking rocks."
Not even a second had passed after the stoic brunette's deadpanned remark in regards to the alleged enemy, before everyone inside the Humvee broke into a barely suppressed, wildly bewildered amused laughter at the absurdity of the directive that they had received earlier from none other than the resident overaggressive, exaggeratedly dramatic and crippingly incompetent Lt. Superman. As the quizzical Marines, along with the accompanying pale albino journalist, joined in on observing the alleged foot mobiles, now revealed to be nothing but mere rocks – shrouded behind layers upon layers of tall, knee-high grasses of the lush rolling fields all around them, promptly giving off illusion that it's a human figure in the distant horizon – with nothing but their respective rifle scopes or binoculars that's constantly and continuously being passed around between the slightly giggling men inside the cramped interior of the venerably rusty vehicle, a quip suddenly rang out of the red-haired Corpsman's grinning lips, all while he's spying on the rock formations from afar with a pair of observant bluish eyes.
"Since when does fucking OCS allows special-ed kids to enroll into their training program?" Clancy curtly quipped, his voice deadpanned as it came out of his slightly grinning lips with an amused tone. For several seconds, the silence inside the Humvee was only broken occasionally by some suppressed giggles, that is until Evan also chipped in with his own brash mocking of the Lieutenant.
"Must've been the recruiters trying to reach their quotas." Then, already on the verge of bursting out from the amusing quip of the Corpsman, everyone finally broke out in a barrage of desperately held in laughter and guffaws.
The Deserted Saderan Fort. (0910)
With the brilliantly orange sun of the morning slowly rising on the far-off horizon with grace, all was quiet and calm on the fort that had just been recently seized by 1st Recon's last minute assault. The beaming solar light, with its mesmerizing yellowish shade and warm touch as if it were the arrival of an archangel, were casted majestically upon the idle Marines below as they lounged around doing nothing in particular within the objective's verdant vicinity. In spite of some misgivings about the prospect of recklessly assaulting the fort without proper intelligence, which could easily go wrong with their relatively small size of the battalion and the fact that they had just witnessed with their own eyes as Lt. Superman dramatically pulled off his showy and over-aggressive approach to clearing out what is clearly a deserted and abandoned stronghold, everyone felt the feelings of being triumphant surge over their respective bodies.
The Humvees' dusty, venerable windshield gleamed brightly under the warm morning light, with the silhouettes of the triumphant men lounging about illuminated and reflected by the beaming rays of the sun as if it were a mirror amidst the prevailing tranquil silence that enveloped their deserted objective, and the surrounding viridescent rolling fields all around them. Under the lukewarm touch of the sunlight, with occasional chilly breezes sweeping through the hilly verdant plains, the Marines of Second Platoon and Bravo Company as a whole were busy catching up on their sleep – abruptly disrupted by their last minute orders to assault the objective due to tight time table – when their fellow grunts from Charlie Company, would began their securing operations of the stronghold's interior itself after one of their vehicles, breached through the forlorn wooden entrance of the objective almost recklessly much to the amusement of Bravo's troops resting casually nearby. So far, besides some abandoned pieces of ancient weaponry and war machines such as the aforementioned ballistas – which were swiftly inspected and then left to rot when nothing of significance was found on these wooden artifacts – they haven't found anything that even indicates the presence of hostile forces occupying this very objective.
While officially, Bravo Company's current orders are for them to set up security and establish a perimeter around the objective while Charlie is preoccupied with clearing and securing the stronghold itself, in actuality however, that couldn't be any further from the truth. By this point, everyone was well aware that the fort was completely abandoned and left to rot by the deserting Saderan garrison, which had probably left in a hurry in the wake of the relentless maelstrom of air and artillery bombardment that had been let loose nearby last night. They had begun digging in around the objective as the battalion awaited further orders from the division itself all while around them, Marines, with joyous emotions such as triumph and victoriousness surging through their bodies, lounged around with a dazed, cheery smile on their faces.
Even the stoic and aloof Simon can't help it, but smile slightly as he stood outside among the sea of green, knee-high grasses in triumph at their recent achievement of securing a stronghold that looked as if it were straight out of his boisterous driver's Rip-Its-fueled rants and fantasies. The mossy structure stood gracefully on top of the verdant fields it is surrounded by, its forlorn walls greenish from the plains' vegetation growing out of miniscule cracks – a reminder of its old age. For the still relatively young team leader, it sort of reminded him of Zelda's Breath of the Wild's landscape, a sentiment that was shared by none other than both Evan and Clancy.
"Well sucka', looks like all these big bad, butt-naked gay-ass Roman magician wannabes ran away after they heard I was fucking coming with my huge cock held firmly on my hand." Evan, with a somewhat dazed smile on his face and eyes gleaming joyously, cheerily quipped as he took in the warm yet sweet and fresh air of the countryside, especially on such a beautiful morning. "Shit man, to quote our lord and savior Ice Cube? Today really is a good day."
He cheerfully continued on just as turned towards the evidently relaxed Corpsman outside, his red hair and blue eyes brightly illuminated under the dazzling orange sunlight.
"Fuckin'A right." Clancy immediately replied to the energetically boisterous Evan in agreement cheerily with a relaxed voice, his head casually resting against the driver-side door of their Humvee, as he sat comfortably on the green, luxuriant grasses of the plains they had parked in, with his M4A1 neatly placed across his chest PC Gen III vest.
Yet, despite the triumphant mood and the overwhelming feeling of victory all around, the brunette still couldn't shake off the feeling that had been bugging him for quite some time, ever since they emerged victorious out of this last minute assault. It is the fact that the bold charge could have easily gone wrong, and that they only triumphed in the end not by skill, courage or anything he'd expect from a group of rowdy Reconnaissance Marines, but rather, by sheer luck. Luck, that had only been because of Saderan incompetence and their unwillingness to fight them head on, otherwise their relatively small battalion wouldn't have emerge so unscathed as they are right now. The intruding thoughts had been stuck there with him, the moment they rolled before the fort's grandiose structure, that turned out to be nothing but an empty hulk of stones and primitive bricks.
"If only they actually chose to stay and fight," As he blankly stared forward, intently eyeing the grandiose structure ahead and the several dozen Marines from Charlie Company strolling and lounging around within it in silent grimace and awe at the once-in-a-lifetime landmark, the brunette grimly remarked with a stoic face and apprehensive face. "we'd probably get our shit bloodied by their numerical superiority."
"Dude," Almost immediately after the brunette's grimacing statement and observation, Evan merely responded to the brunette's grim and thoughtful remark with a cheerful albeit disapproving scoff of his own swiftly, the slight evident frown of clear disapproval on his face that had emerged upon hearing his team leader's curt apprehensive remark incongruously accompanied his reassuring light-hearted tone. "lighten up! We just seized a fucking fort straight outta those faggy-ass Zelda games."
Immediately made aware of Evan's quippy remark not even a moment after the chippy driver uttered it with a cheerful disposition as his swift, energetic reply in an evident attempt to reassure his gloomy team leader, Simon promptly reacted as he curtly averted his attentive gaze on the fort earlier back to the seemingly cheerful driver, whose lips had already contorted into a mischievous grin in an uplifting manner.
Slowly and intentionally sardonic, Simon simply shot back to the grinning driver in a curt manner with a simple, sarcastic smirk of his own as it surfaced on the previously stoic face of the brunette
"But then again, knowing that the scenario never happened," The previously stoic team leader suddenly shot back, the voice of his remark evidently sarcastic as he simply gazed back at Evan with a slight, sardonic smirk. "I luckily wouldn't have to deal with the prospect of having to go down to your creepy, daughter-fucking white-trash republican-state shithole that you crawled out of to inform your retarded inbred, acne-ful mutation that you refer to as your fucking parents and that cretinous thousand pound landwhale blood-related relative that is your girlfriend of your unfortunat- I mean fucking stupid death, at the hands of some wannabe twink Roman mages whilst assaulting a heavily defended fort that looked like its about to fall apart any minute."
Taken aback – in a wildly amused, friendly manner – at the long, sardonic banter affectionately spouted out by the usually quiet and composed team leader, the still grinning Evan merely reacted to the bomb that had been dropped by the bruntte with a hearty snicker as a response, much to the wild amusement of the Traveler and Clancy lounging aimlessly nearby under the warm, beaming light of the orange-hued sun.
Just then, amidst the amused cackles of snickers and wheezes from his fellow teammates all around in the immediate wake of the lengthy banter, Kirito suddenly spoke up in a hurried manner, his fingers pointed towards something behind the slightly smirking team leader.
"Hey Sergeant," The gunner curtly called out to the seemingly casual brunette, instantly gaining his attention in a blink of an eye as Kirito continued on. As if to further punctuate the seriousness of his alarmed tone, the smile and smirks previously prevalent on the face of his fellow teammates, had lessened down slightly. "heads up, to your 6."
Not even hesitating upon hearing the seemingly alarmed words of his trusted gunner, the brunette promptly returned back to his previous composed state just as he turned his gaze away from the slightly grinning driver, to the figure directly behind his back. Almost immediately after Simon did as he was instructed to by the somewhat alarmed Kirito, his gaze and line of sight was promptly blocked by an average-sized yet slightly burly figure standing half a dozen meters away from where he is currently lounging at. It is none other than Godfather himself, their rash battalion commander that led 1st Recon. He also happens to be the brainchild behind their hurried, last-minute charge to seize the objective before the deadline set by the Division's CG ended.
Inexplicably though, the commanding officer seemed to be in an unusually great mood smiling, as indicated by the smugly smile surfacing on his just as he was greeted by the exasperated yet casual men of Hitman 2-1. Surely, he probably managed to eavesdrop on their little chit-chat friendly banter earlier, that'll explain his smile, thought the brunette. Just then, before anything could be further remarked by the now slightly composed enlisted Marines and their accompanying journalist, Godfather tersely spoke in a chippy, buoyant manner.
"Get me Havoc Actual on the radio." The officer's remark was precise and curt yet at the same time upbeat. His short and simple request immediately gouged out an affirming nod from the now silent and composed team leader as he, in turn, cocked his head away from the buoyant commander and back to his driver double-tasking also as their capable radiotelephone operator.
"Corporal Carson, channel six please?" Immediately leaning down by the driver's seat with his composed gaze meeting the driver's similarly calm complexion, Simon curtly requested Evan with the radio channel in question in a much more professional manner and tone than the usual.
Swiftly, without none of the usual cheery quip characteristic of his, the faithful driver and radiotelephone operator promptly went to work quietly and soon enough, the requested frequency was finally delivered almost in an blink of an eye, as indicated by him handing the handset to the waiting hands of his team leader. With that, Simon swiftly took the device, and immediately handed it over to the unusually buoyant and cheery Godfather standing nearby.
Not wasting any time, he immediately took it and began speaking into the dusty device itself.
"Havoc Actual, this is Godfather, over."
"Copy that, send traffic." On the other side and almost spontaneously responding to the earlier transmission as if he were waiting for it to be uttered in the first place, the cold, aloof voice of the Division CG, Major General Kelly, calmly resounded as a clear contrast to the much more chippy tone of Godfather. With all eyes of the brunette's team firmly set on the battalion CO, the incredibly delighted officer continued on with his report in regards to their successful assault on the fort earlier.
"Be advised, we've seized the enemy fort. The reports from my subordinates are, we have captured several ballistas and venerable buildings that appeared to be abandoned. It appears, we have overran the garrisoning Saderan Legion manning the fortress, which had apparently fled prior to our arrival." Stopping momentarily for emphasis, as he triumphantly looked around towards his Marines, whose gleaming victorious eyes and the slowly creeping smile evidently indicating their approval of the reports fed to the 1st Marine Division CG regarding their recent exploits.
"And remarkably sir, we have sustained zero casualties in our assault."
"Hm, outstanding." The response from the General on the other side was immediate, his tone emotionless yet at the same time laced with indication of admiration, clearly impressed and delighted with the reports in spite of the cold tone.
"Thank you and roger that, out." Satisfied with the conversation he just held on the radio, Godfather finally ended the little back and forth between the two officers in a clearly delighted mood, as he handed over the device's dusty handset back to its original owners with an accompanying nod and a amicable smile on his face as a thank you.
"Great job, gentlemen." Looking around the small crowd of the brunette's team scattered all around him, Godfather proudly remarked to the team leader and his fellow subordinates gathered nearby as he triumphantly sighed in clear, immense satisfaction. Spontaneously, the enlisted Marines simply responded with an affirming smile followed by a slight nod to the leader's short but nonetheless, genuine praise.
In spite of their misgivings and constant brash mocking of the usually glory-hounding battalion commander and his occasional rash decisions that the Marines despised, they can't help but feel proud and smug themselves from their recent achievement : a seizure of an entire enemy fortress. With a final nod of approval to the triumphant group of men that had gathered around, the clearly delighted Godfather finally left, his mood buoyant and cheery from his successful gamble.
Simon, along with his fellow teammates, in spite of their usual quip mocking the officer's incredibly rash and reckless decisions and the tendency to glory-hound – especially in the aftermath on what could've easily been a disastrous assault, merely reacted to the rare show of affection and impressed praises showed by none other than their own battalion commander by trading glances with each other, as wide prideful grins and cheerful smiles began to surface on everyone's previously calm and composed complexion along with occasional hearty chuckles heaved out. Looking all around to each of his clearly delighted subordinates exchanging chippy gazes and laughter with each other, the usually stoic and aloof facade of the brunette slowly crumbled, as a slight satisfied smirk emerged in its place.
"Gents, we've just assaulted and seized an entire fortress with no shots fired, and no casualties." With a satisfied, cheerful smile plastered clearly on the usually emotionless face of his, Simon can't help but boastfully remarked in immense triumph much to the delight of his fellow teammates gathered close nearby. "I can whole-heartedly say that was pretty fucking courageous of us fuckers."
Notes (including some that I missed in the last chapter.)
Fort Sam Houston - The place where Navy Hospital Corpsman, either blueside (Navy Corpsman assigned to USN units and installation) or greenside (Navy Corpsman, which in contrast to blueside, were assigned to Marine units and installations) were sent to for their medical course training prior to being assigned to
ITX - Integrated Training Exercise, which is just an exercise meant to create a challenging, realistic training environment that produces combat-ready forces capable of operating as a Marine Air-Ground Task Force (MAGTF) during deployment.
Violence of action - Violence of action means the unrestricted use of speed, strength, surprise and aggression to achieve total dominance against your enemy.
S-3 and Operations Officer - I already explained it before but here it goes, the S-3 (Planning and Operations) is the part of military staff that, like the name implies, plans operations and exercises for the unit together with the commanding officer (CO). Operations Officer is the man leading the S-3 staff.
MSR - Main Supply Route, basically the military term for any kind of road.
Free-fire zone - A Vietnam War era term that basically means that the new ROE allows you to shoot anyone, anyone, that looks like a human. Declaring everyone hostile means the Marines may or should shoot any human (or demi-human) they encounter.
Returning veterans, affected civilians and others have said that the U.S. Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV), based on the assumption that all friendly forces had been cleared from the area, established a policy designating "freedom zones to fire" as areas in which:
-Anyone unidentified is considered an enemy combatant
-Soldiers were to shoot anyone moving around after curfew without first making sure that they were hostile.
And as expected, it caused lots of civilian casualties and as a result, it fell out of vogue.
Division CG - Division Commanding General.
Support-by-fire - A tactical mission task in which a maneuver force moves to a position where it can engage the enemy by direct fire in support of another maneuvering force.
MPs - Military Police.
XO - Executive Officer aka the second in command.
OCS - Officer Candidate School, the place where all people go before becoming a fully-commissioned Marine officer.
Foot mobiles - infantry, on foot. Pretty self-explanatory.
FPF - Final Protective Fire, military term for firing every weapon you got in your disposal in the enemy's direction when you're in danger of being overran.
PC Gen III Vest/plate carriers - Lighter, more flexible replacement to the older, clunkier MTV plate carriers. I retconned it, so from now on all prior mentions of MTV vests are now considered PC Gen III instead.