"A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles." - Christopher Reeve
USAV Philippi, Corto Maltese Waters, Caribbean Sea
5:00 AM EST, July 27, 1981
The waves rocked the landing craft around as it sped to an island's beaches. It carried a company of solider tightly packed together. In the front, Captain William McIntyre knew there wouldn't be much resistance on the beach. The Communist revolutionaries haven't had the time to build anything from the destruction they caused. He listened to his men. Some were praying, others terrified. A few were sea sick, barfing out their breakfast. These boys had families back home. Mother and fathers, fearing that they'll have to bury their sons. Sister and brothers wanting to share their lives together. William felt the letter from his wife in his pocket. He was a father of a beautiful baby girl. Praying silently to see her grow up.
But his thoughts turned to the surrounding reality, with an explosion. Metal shredding apart. The soldiers ducked down as bullets ping the metal hull. The naval guns opened fire. William could think of what surprise lay ahead of them. Gripping his M16 as rotor blades grew close. Looking up to see a Soviet Hind spiraled out of control, too close for comfort. It went past him, but struck the stern of the LCM. The speeding boat soon slowed down, being pushed back in the current. He thought of waiting for the navy to rescue them, but a shell went straight through the metal ramp, flying into the waters behind them. Waiting was a death sentence. No choice left.
"Someone drop the ramp! Getting ready to swim." William ordered his men. He latched his rifle to his back, getting ready to fight the current. When the ramp was lowered, he noticed the LCM's bow was pushed away from the beach. Water flooded the landing craft as the soldiers rushed out into warm water. Looking around, he spotted fires on the beaches. The sky was clear of hostiles. The attack had hit a snag, but it was going alright. Hearing the roars of AAVs coming closer. Turning, he saw the Marines arriving. A smirking Marine leaned out of the vehicle.
"Need a ride?" the Marine snickered.
"Just get us to the beach." William said, grabbing onto the AAV.
The soldiers climbed on top, holding on what they could. The waves splashed violently, hard on William's face. The gunners kept cover for the landing force. As the AAVs got to shallow water, he checked his rifle. It was dripping water, but still usable. He jumped into the shallows, pushing through to the beach. Gunfire echoed from the jungle ahead. His company was behind schedule. They need to reach Las Cule with the rest of the regiment. They had missed their M113 rides, forcing them into a long march. His men regrouped together. Some were missing. Either dead or in the sea.
Leading them up to the roads, William kept an eye out for traps. Cobras flew overhead, raining fire on enemy positions. Getting closer to the village. He heard cannon fire. Reaching a M551 platoon, the cannons were booming loud. They went to the left flank, cutting through the jungle, he saw six T-62s rolling into the village. The Sheridans are outclassed by the Soviet tank.
"Stay low and fire when fired upon." William ordered his men.
Rushing to the tank platoon, seeing them rolling into the village. William went to their side, banging his rifle and yelling at the tank. The tank commander opened the hatch, leaning out. Slightly angry at the Captain.
"What?" the commander asked.
"Six T-62s ahead. Heading straight for you."
"Shit." the commander said, getting back into the tank. William turned, ready to return to his men.
Before he could, a boom of dust picked up from a building. A Sheridan was hit by an RPG. Its crew quickly abandoned the tank, before it burst in flames. Aiming his rife at the building, taking careful aim at the window where the rocket came from. Pulling the trigger. Letting the automatic rounds pepper the building. His mag was empty, forcing him to cover. Moving around the moving tanks, he loaded another mag. Just as before, he aimed, firing the twenty rounds. Moving along the buildings for better cover, he heard another RPG fire. This time hitting the tracks of a tank.
Leaving the cover, he unleashed his gun. Taking cover once more. When he reached the building where the RPGs came from, he switched to semi-auto. Grabbed a grenade. Pulled the pin. Kicked the door open. Throwing the explosive inside. The boom shook the building. Charging in to see several dead men. Going upstairs, rifle raised. A gunshot grazed William's helmet. The enemy was armed with a bolt-action rifle. Pulling the bolt back, it was too late. He killed the enemy in one shot. The RPG gunner surrendered. The American walked, putting the enemy in zip ties.
Taking the launcher and pulling the crate behind, he went to meet the Soviet made tanks. Getting outside, the Sheridans were already rolled out. Booms echoed around him. Following the tread tracks, he eventually reached a corner. Looking around, he saw a flaming M551. Along with two T-62. Loading the RPG, he prepared to be in the sights of the tanks. Breaking cover, he aimed the Soviet weapon. Pressed the trigger, sending the rocket into a tank's turret. It burst into flames. The only survivor was the driver, running away in retreat. Arming a second RPG, the tank commanders fired their machine guns in his general direction. The bullets were wild. Peeking around, he saw the T-62 attempting to withdraw.
Taking a chance, he left the cover. Firing the rocket to another lethal strike. As he put the launcher on his back, treads rolling echoed behind him. Turning to see a T-62 coming around the corner. The turret aimed directly at him. He didn't have time to load another round. William instinctively swung his arm as the cannon fired. To his surprise, the shell completely missed him. The turret was completely moved. No way did the gunner purposely moved. Before he could think more of it, a Cobra fired a wave of rockets at the tank, turning it into flames.
"Captain!" a voice yelled. Turning, William saw Sergeant Hax running over with a squad. "Are you alright, sir?"
"Yeah. Yeah." he answered as they helped him up. Looking back to the burning tank. Its turret still facing away from him. One question racing his mind. How was he alive?
Outskirts of Escago, Republic of Corto Maltese
4:36 PM EST, July 27, 1981
The battles were fierce. American forces surrounded the capital, taking nearly the entire island. Now the men were getting what little rest they could. But mortars echoed the night. Giving them little. William looked at the city from a hill. He was still thinking of the T-62. He should have been killed. Why did it miss him? Sitting down, he thought of what he did. Going through every decision. There wasn't anything that could have made that turret move.
Shuffling a 45 in his fingers. The brass casing, cold to the touch. His thoughts were turned away from the bullet with a sound. Aiming his rifle, he saw nothing. His breaths were slow. Calm. No one was in his sights. The situation was tense. Walking forward, slowly, cautiously. Turning his rifle sharply to find nothing. When his boot stepped on metal, he looked down just to see a metal sheet. The wind must have blown it. Lowering the rifle, he relaxed. Thanking God that he was still alive.
Escago, Republic of Corto Maltese
10:21 AM EST, July 28, 1981
The fight into Escago was bitter. Bombs were left behind in the ruins for American soldiers to find. Mortars collapsed buildings with civilians inside. Entire mobs of refugees were pushed towards the American advance, slowing them down. William tried his best, but they have been to many deaths. He and his men were marching ahead of the struggling M113s. Walking over the piles of bricks and metal, he found bodies. Men, women, and children. Soldiers from both sides. It was horrific. This wasn't the Americans doing. This happened from the defenders.
Gunfire filled the air. Promises of justice and revenge are made. As two soldiers, climbed over a wall of burned bricks, a Huey flew overhead. Its rockets launched ahead of them. Before William could say anything to the two young men, enemy gunners cut them down. Rushing over, but it was too late. An explosion boomed over them. The Huey's tail was blown off. Spiraling out of control. Sliding a nearby roof. Directly in the fire.
Pulling the pin of a grenade, he tossed it over. When it exploded, the company climbed over. Gunfire was exchanged. Marching towards a door, he kept the gun leveled. Kicking it down, he threw a grenade in. Once the dust settled, he went in, finding horror. A family was taking shelter. Closing his eyes to the bodies, he marched past them. Going up the stairs. He saw people taking shelter in the halls. Fearing the battle. The building rocked from a mortar round. Reaching the roof, he saw the downed Huey on the building across from him. Running over, he noticed a small jump. Giving him some distance, he took the leap. Just in time for enemy soldiers to arrive.
Opening fire, pinning them down while some of his men rushed to aid the Huey's crew. As he kept up the fire, another loud, close boom caught his attention. Looking over to see a Black Hawk doing down towards him and his men. In an instinct, he covered his face, expecting this to be his final moment. But nothing happened. Opening his eye, he saw the Huey floating in the air. His hands were glowing a purple haze.
He lowered his arm down, which lowered the damaged Huey gentle onto the roof. Just like that, the haze disappeared. It was unlike anything he has experienced. Turning to his men, they stood there, awestruck. He smirked, thinking of what he could do. "Get those men to a Medevac. Then push through the enemy defenses."
White House, Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America
1:03 PM EST, July 4, 1984
"When our nation is threatened by Soviet forces of great evil. Our men in the armed forces protect our families and way of life. But the Soviet war machine seeks to create new ways to destroy our democracy, our freedom, our very lives. But now we have a soldier with power outmatches the weapons of the Red Army. Major William McIntyre has power unseen by man since the Atomic Bomb." President Ronald Reagan said to the gathered crowd on the White House lawn. Next to him is William dress in a green suit with gold plated vest. For the past several years, he learned how to use this new power. When he was home, he learned how to be a father to his beautiful baby girl. Now he was showing his gifts to the world. Putting fear into the Soviet juggernaut. When the President gave him a nod, William turned to the two VH-3D sitting behind them. His hands glowed that purple haze, raising the two Helis. The crowd was in awe of the sight. Lowering it down, the President continued his speech.
"We are entering a new age. New nations rising against their Soviet oppressors, democracies forming in distant lands, our allies growing stronger with us everyday. Now we have the first soldier with powers. The day when the Soviet Union falls is coming. Shaking in our great shadow."