Hows this sound for a good war story?

[Wilco 944]

Well, I have a short story due for English, and I'm deciding to do it on a future based fictional war story, check it out.  Tell me if you can picture the scene in your head.

The loud sound of gunfire and explosions can be heard as the three soldiers disembarked from the blackhawk helicopter. The year is 2005, the United States of America has been invaded by the Russian military, and America has become a war zone.

PFC Phillip Lorenzo scouts out the area around the LZ of the small Marine Force Recon scout team. He returns to give Sgt. James Donovan and Staff Sgt. Timothy Durant the news that no enemy soldiers are hiding within the surrounding buildings. The team moves out, passing a bullet riddled sign that reads "Welcome to Manhattan".

The soldiers set up a small camp to spend the night. Looking across the street, one can see burning, destroyed vehicles of all the sort. Military hummers with larger gaping holes, tanks with the treads ripped off and fire coming from the engine and turret compartments. Large holes on the sides of the buildings reveal rooms in which families once lived. Craters fill the street, making is unpassable for vehicles to move. Glass from windows lays on the street, along with shell casings from once hot barrels, from which a man once shot. Now he, and his rifle are silent on the sidewalk.

Lorenzo moves to secure a Fed Ex building along the street that was once used as a Russian emplacement. Within the building, Lorenzo finds Automatic Kalashnikov rifles, medical bandages with the stain of death on them, spent shells litter the floor, along with cigarette butts and broken tiles. Holes in the wall bring in small rays of sunlight. Lorenzo moves to secure the back, there he finds a truck torn apart by shrapnel from a mortar round, as he peers inside, the stench of dead overflows into his nose, making him cough and move away. Lorenzo looks in to find a Russian soldier, lying against the side of the truck. His eyes and face are the color of death.

"He must of been dead for a few days now"

"You got that right"

Lorenzo pulls around with his rifle aiming at the foreign voice.

"Put that away kid, you'll get someone killed out here, maybe yourself" durant says.

"Sorry sir, just watching out for myself and the team"

"Don't get too trigger happy, theres another one of us out there too"

"Yes sir, sorry sir, by the way sir, where is Sgt. Donovan?"

"Oh, he's out collecting some wood and other supplies for the fire"

Meanwhile, Donovan walks silently through a small hardware store, picking up a few pieces of wood strewn across the store. He finds a secret stash of matches and lantern oil, along with a lantern and small caliber pistol.

"Must of been the owners hideout" Donovan thinks.

Suddenly, automatic gunfire is heard near the fed ex store. Donovan dashes to the store, kicks open the door to find Durant and Lorenzo kneeling behind a desk.

"There a ruskie patrol that just stopped by, I guess they are picking up some things they left"

"Anyone hit?" Says Donovan

"Nope, only one ruskie who decided to rush the place without securing the perimeter first" Durant replies

Donovan sets up his M249 SAW on a counter in the lobby room and begins to fire out of the window. Lorenzo and Durant aim for the open garage door with their M4 rifles. The loud sound of the automatic weapons is deafening, along with the hot smell of gunpowder. The russian patrol takes a few more casualties and decides to pull back. All three cease fire of their weapons and secure the area. Adrenaline pumping within their viens they peer around every corner, looking for a Russian soldier awaiting to ambush them. Noone is found, so they decide to set up for the night inside the hardware store, for fear the Russian soldiers may come back in the night.

Next morning, they move out. Their mission is to find and secure a building that can send radio frequencies in and out of downtown Manhattan. They begin their Journey, starting on the North side, going south along the Hudson River. The sights and smells are horrific, burning buildings cast bright shows of fire, exploding munitions trigger the three to react in hostile modes, and the smell of death, gunpowder, and gasoline fill the air and then their nostrils. Bodies are afloat in the harbor waters, destroyed ships, to large to sink down to the bottom, poke out like jagged steal glaciers within the June hot weather. Buildings are plagued with holes and missing chunks, from gunfire and war. The existing glass from skyscrapers reflect the horror of war, like a mirror of hell. Rifles and ammunition lay across the street, their keeper lays next to them, bloody and gone, long gone, from the sights and sounds of war, horror, and anguish.

Hours go by, along with memories of the past and thoughts of the future. Suddenly, Durant realizes that they aren't where they should be.

"Any of you boys recognize this place?" He asks

Lorenzo replies "No sir, I have never been to Manhattan, this is my first time, and probably my last"

"And that means what Lorenzo? Your saying your going to die"

"No sir, I just don't ever want to visit hell again"

"Me neither Lorenzo, me neither...."

Like I said, Im not finished, I plan to type up alot more.

[The Frenchman 0]

Nice read! Can you make one of the soldiers last name Lapoint?

[Wilco 944]

Yeah no problem, Ill change names to anyone that wants their name in it if you want.

[The Frenchman 0]

Update?

[Major Gripe 0]

Quote[/b] ]hot smell of gunpowder.

Is this the new M4, projected for deployment in 2005?!!! Isn't it cordite we use in the 20th century now?!!

Only joking, good start, it needs a plausible background with regard to the outbreak of the war, less cliches 'the colour of death'!! and personal details about the characters, their history, emotions, fears etc, so the reader can begin to empathise with their plight. Looks like we have found Frederick Forsyth's protege!!

[Wilco 944]

Update, whole story, it's complete:

The loud sound of gunfire and explosions can be heard as the three soldiers disembarked from the Blackhawk helicopter. The year is 2005, and the United States of America has been invaded by the Russian military. America has become a war zone.

PFC Phillip Lapoint scouts out the area around the LZ of the small Marine Force Recon scout team. He returns to give Sgt. James Donovan and Staff Sgt. Timothy Durant the news that no enemy soldiers are hiding within the surrounding buildings. The team moves out, passing a bullet riddled sign that reads "Welcome to Manhattan".

The soldiers set up a small camp to spend the night. Looking across the street, one can see burning, destroyed vehicles of the entire sort. Military hummers with larger gaping holes, tanks with the treads ripped off and fire coming from the engine and turret compartments. Large holes on the sides of the buildings reveal rooms in which families once lived. Craters fill the street; making is impassable for vehicles to move. Glass from windows lies on the street, along with shell casings from once hot barrels, from which a man once shot. Now he and his rifle are silent on the sidewalk.

Lapoint moves to secure a Fed Ex building along the street that was once used as a Russian emplacement. Within the building, Lorenzo finds Automatic Kalashnikov rifles, medical bandages with the stain of death on them, spent shells litter the floor, along with cigarette butts and broken tiles. Holes in the wall bring in small rays of sunlight. Lapoint moves to secure the back, there he finds a truck torn apart by shrapnel from a mortar round, as he peers inside, the stench of dead overflows him, making him cough and quickly drawback. Lapoint looks in to find a Russian soldier, lying against the side of the truck. His eyes and face are the color of death.

"He must have been dead for a few days now"

"You got that right"

Lapoint pulls around with his rifle aiming at the foreign voice.

"Put that away kid, you'll get someone killed out here, maybe yourself" Durant says.

"Sorry sir, just watching out for myself and the team"

"Don't get too trigger happy, there’s another one of us out there too"

"Yes sir, sorry sir, by the way sir, where is Sgt. Donovan?"

"Oh, he's out collecting some wood and other supplies for the fire"

Meanwhile, Donovan walks silently through a small hardware store, picking up a few pieces of wood strewn across the store. He finds a secret stash of matches and lantern oil, along with a lantern and small caliber pistol.

"Must have been the owner’s hideout" Donovan thinks.

Suddenly, automatic gunfire is heard near the FedEx store. Donovan dashes to the store, kicks open the door to find Durant and Lorenzo kneeling behind a desk.

"There a ruskie patrol that just stopped by, I guess they are picking up some things they left"

"Anyone hit?" Says Donovan

"Nope, only one ruskie who decided to rush the place without securing the perimeter first" Durant replies

Donovan sets up his M249 SAW on a counter in the lobby room and begins to fire out of the window. Lapoint and Durant aim for the open garage door with their M4 rifles. The loud sound of the automatic weapons is deafening. The Russian patrol takes a few more casualties and decides to pull back. All three cease fire of their weapons and secure the area. Adrenaline pumping within their veins they peer around every corner, looking for a Russian soldier waiting to ambush them. No one is found, so they decide to set up for the night inside the hardware store across the street, for fear the Russian soldiers may come back in the night.

Next morning, they move out. Their mission is to find and secure a building that can send radio frequencies in and out of downtown Manhattan. They begin their Journey, starting on the North side, going south along the Hudson River. The sights and smells are horrific, burning buildings cast bright shows of fire, exploding munitions trigger the three to react in defensive modes, and the smell of death, gunpowder, and gasoline fill the air and then their minds. Bodies are afloat in the harbor waters, destroyed ships; to large to sink down to the bottom, poke out like jagged steal glaciers within the June hot weather. Buildings are plagued with holes and missing chunks, from gunfire and war. The existing glasses from skyscrapers reflect the horror of war, like a mirror of hell. Rifles and ammunition lay across the street, their keeper lays next to them, bloody and gone, long gone, from the sights and sounds of war, horror, and anguish.

Hours go by, along with memories of the past and thoughts of the future. Suddenly, Durant realizes that they aren't where they should be.

"Any of you boys recognize this place?" He asks

Lapoint replies "No sir, I have never been to Manhattan, this is my first time, and probably my last"

"And that means what Lapoint? Your saying you’re going to die?"

"No sir, I just don't ever want to visit hell again"

"Me neither Lapoint, me neither...."

The three cross a street, suddenly a high caliber rifle shatters through the smoke and hits the ground inches away from Lapoint, all three suddenly seek cover behind a burned out jeep.

"What was that!!??" Lapoint screams

"Quit you’re whining, seems to me like you have an angel riding along in your gear" Durant exclaims

"Well thanks for noticing, but what was it, a sniper-"

"Exactly" as Donovan cuts off Lapoint

Donovan and Durant decide to light up a cigarette in the middle of it all.

"Want a cig?" Donovan asks Lapoint

"Sorry, don't smoke"

"Well then you should start, it’s about the only thing you can do around here besides kill and hate"

"True, but I still don't smoke sir"

"Suit yourself kid"

Throughout the night, shots ring out around the three, they get no sleep, and as dawn rises, footsteps are heard on the right side of the team. The sniper who shot at them walks around the corner checking his kills, instinctively, the three act dead, and as the sniper turns around, Durant puts a bullet to him, ending his career, and life. Donovan stumbles up

"Well, that’s the last of him I suppose"

"You got that right Donovan" replies Durant

Throughout the day the team searches for a building high enough to send radio signals out. Lapoint checks his watch and finds that is has been broken since last night, the other two laughs at him as he curses at it, then throws it down on the ground and stomps on it. With the sun setting, the team walks around the corner, surprised to see the building they have been searching for all along still stands, chunks of concrete and steel are missing, but it has held out. Lapoint and Durant check out the building, while Donovan sets up the communications link. Lapoint try’s the elevator, and surprisingly it still works, so the two begin their journey to the top floor. Sparks fly as the elevator slowly moves up and comes to a halt. The two walk out, guns drawn, ready to pull their trigger at anything that jumps out. The roof is clear and Lapoint begins to dust off a sign.

"Empire State Building Top Floor"

"Yeah, it's now the tallest building in Manhattan after the Ruskies torn down the World Trade Center Towers to make room for a new base" Durant depressingly says

Across the Harbor lies The Statue of Liberty, The torch for which it held is gone, and a large chunk of the left side has also been torn off. Amazingly it still stands, as the last beacon of hope and freedom for the United States. The two make their journey back down to the lower lobby. They make it back to see that Donovan has set up camp, and has cooked some hotdogs and buns. As they sit and eat, no one speaks, but thinks about the old times, when New York and all of The United States was free. The next morning they are ready to call in HQ for a helicopter extraction. They get the heads up that a Blackhawk helicopter will be flying in in about 10 minutes. They get ready and move to the New York Harbor where the helicopter is called for pickup. The small bass of the helicopter rotors can be heard, slowly louder and louder they sound, until finally overhead. As they get in, they wish their goodbyes to the forgotten place, for none never wish to visit again.

As the chopper fly’s away, the pilot screams something that hits everyone to the bone

"SAM LOCKON SAM LOCKON!"

"WE GOT A LOCK ON AT 12 O' CLOCK!"

"ONE MISSLE INBOUND!"

"IT'S GOING TO HIT, BE READY!"

The missile rips through the tail, shearing it off, the Blackhawk spins in the air as the pilots try to regain control. It spins over the Hudson Bay, drawing nearer and nearer to The Statue of Liberty. Death is inevitable, the team of three and the two pilots brace for impact. The Blackhawk hits The Statue of Liberty, everyone onboard is killed. Then, The Statue of Liberty slowly leans to its side, and falls into the Hudson Bay.....

[Dauragon 0]

this sounds good, can the highest ranked guy be named Mishima

[Wilco 944]

I already turned it in, but you guys can add onto the story, add more characters and such to this post.

[The Frenchman 0]

Sure, make LaPoint the no0b.

[Wilco 944]

Your lucky he's in there!

[-TU--33ker 0]

you should leave out the introduction... all short stories start without an introduction. The reader has to find out about the situation by small hints given in the text. ;)

Well done, but IMO the story is too pathetic...

[Baron Hurlothrumbo IIX 0]

Good story but the soldiers are acting like untrained recruits - making fires? 1 man going off by himself to find things?

[Wilco 944]

Well I tried to think as them.

They're in a war-torn city, they are 3 men strong, they need everything they can get, and need to clear out the area, and to do so, they should/need to split up, get things going quicker. I would of done that, and plus, noone is watching them

[Consigliere 0]

Heh...Pretty entertaining read, but a bit too cliched for my liking  

Wouldn't your english teacher and class think you're a bit weird writing about war without really touching any non pure-war themes?I mean perhaps add something to it so that it is a bit more neutral, not to make it just a pure,action all guns blazing war story, if you get my drift...

Were you given a general theme?Any guidelines?Or did your teacher tell you to write a sory about whatever you wanted?

I once wrote a short war story, set in Alaska. A Spetznatz squad were sent accross the Bering Strait to take out a US early warning radar system in preparation for a raid on a US Army weapons storage compound...It was mainly centred on the fight between the base garrison and the Spetznatz squad, with a typical heroic ending, plenty of big explosions and lots of military words and phrases...I was 12 at the time and I think I got a 6.5/10 for it    

What my english teacher said to me is basically what I just wrote to you...

It's a pretty well written story nevertheless  

[Cloney 0]

We did an Official OF Forum War Story Thread about a year ago

Here's the entire text.

BIG POST

Quote[/b] ]

==============================================

The Operation Flashpoint Official Forum War Story

Contributing Writers:

Cloney (Vasquez)

Aculaud (Goldman)

Billy Tran (Franklin)

Oligo (Afghan Fighter)

Othin (Navy Deck Crew and Haji)

Col Kurtz (Royal Marines)

PHY Hawkeye (Huey Pilot)

Chapter 1

(Vasquez)

The Mountains of Afghanistan were really starting to get to me. It was March and my squad was on yet another patrol through the mountains. The bitterly cold wind and the wet snow would minimize mobility and our 80-pound rucks didn't help. I guess leading a squad of the 101st Airborne Division wouldn't be as exciting as the Army Recruiting posters had advertised.

I readjusted my MOLLE vest hoping to keep it from cutting of circulation to my arm. These new interceptor vests were no better than the old PASGT vests. I looked back and surely enough, my squad was trudging through the ankle high snow, ever vigilant for Al-Queda snipers and Taliban Militia. I prodded forward a few more feet until I noticed a small clearing, completely devoid of rocks. I signaled my squad to stay sharp and they dropped to one knee, covering their pre-assigned AOR.

I ordered my point man to check it out, he moved up and I followed 5 steps behind him. A shot rung out and ricocheted off a rock. The bullet tumbled through the air and caught Corporal Twivlesen in the Shoulder. He screamed in pain, as his 3-color desert fatigue shirt was turning red with his blood.

I sqeezed off four rounds from my M4 and told my squad to fall back to the ridgeline about 30m from our position. To my horror a claymore mine detonated and ripped into my squad. My SAW gunner was thrown back twelve feet from the shrapnel but luckily wasn't killed by any of the ball bearings. the ball bearings pinged off of rocks with fury. One bounced off my helmet and I was stunned for a second, akin to being hit by a 90 mph baseball. Soon, there was automatic weapons fire erupting from every crevice near the clearing. Some of my men tried returning fire but it was hopeless we were out manned and outgunned. When we reached the ridgeline Pvt. Kelly stabilized Twivlesen. We were well protected from gunfire and attempted to organize a defensive position. I located my RTO near a curve in the ridgeline and attempted to get online with another unit near by.

"This is Mako Two Four Alpha, One Zero One Airborne we need immediate reinforcements and medivac. Is anyone receiving? We are in a world of shit! We need support over!"

Chapter 2

(Goldman)

My name is Gary Goldman. I'm a Gunnery Sergeant in the 26th MEU. Designated marksman in my squad. The base camp where I’m stationed at the moment is just north of Tora Bora, and a ways east of Kabul. I'm just sorta hangin' out at the moment. Wondering why we aren't out raiding something.

The afternoon sun was beautiful. It was very enchanting just sitting here taking in the surroundings. Then I heard some static coming from a radio. What i was able to make out was "This is Mako Two Four -----,---- Zero One Airbo---- need immediate reinforc------ and medivac. Is anyone receiving? We are in a world of shit!--------- support over!". I looked over at my squad leader who was standing right there, waiting very impatiently for him to give the word. When i was about to ask him if we were going, he reached forward for the radios receiver, picked it up and tried reaching the entrenched airborne boys. "Mako two four Alpha, do you Copy? ...............Mako Two Four Alpha, hold your position, we are sending support, over!? ....." After a moment of no response, the lieutenant paused for a moment, and then looked at us. "What're ya waiting for, Christmas!? You heard them over there, get your asses in gear!" With that, i headed straight for my equipment. My vest was packed with ammo. It was so heavy, i wasn’t wearing it so much as it was wearing me. And that wasn’t even including my Alice pack. I picked up my M14 DMR, and got back to the rest of the group.

"All right, here is the situation. Vasquez's One Zero One is down, we're going over there to reinforce them. Radio communications sounded pretty damn hectic, so we really have no choice but to assume its a hostile situation. Alright, you know the drill, lets pack it in!" With that, we headed for the Black Hawk and loaded up.

Chapter 3

(Afghan fighter)

My name, well, I don't even think about that anymore, since it was given to me by father, who only lives in my memories and my mother whom I do not even recall.

My whole life has been a struggle for survival through this land of incomprehensible cruelty and immense beauty. My mother died soon after giving birth to me. She got an infection, which sapped her strength and overcame her body in a few weeks. As her last act on this earth, she prayed to god for a bright future for her sons. But god in his cruelty did not listen.

My dad had hard time providing for my brother and me. Therefore we had to help him as soon as we were old enough. We ran shipments of poppies through the ragged mountains of our homeland, forever wary of bands of armed men. There was no other work available, so this was our way of getting the everyday food.

Then came a day when a bride was found for my brother. A wedding was arranged. But fate had his sights set on me, so he arranged for me to go fetch a goat for slaughter just when he sent the wailing banshees to rain fire on all the people I knew. This sight I will never forget and so I will never know peace again.

So this is my fate. To walk on this earth like a shadow wearing tattered rags. To carry a rifle that has seen countless wars and countless warriors. Like time has carved the marks of wear on the surface of this weapon, so god or fate, whichever is true, has carved my soul.

I serve men who believe in god. They want to kill in the name of their god. I don't care about god, but I know these men hate the devils coming to our land with their strange clothes and weapons. So I fight with these pious men. I will kill as long as the devils finish their work and send me to my kin, which they took away from me.

Today we ran into a flock of the evil men. No time for thoughts, it's time to act. I assault with the ghosts of my father and brother running beside me.

Chapter 4

(Vasquez)

The Little men in their white baggy clothes were stepping up their fire on our position. Their DSHK machinegun was emptying belt after belt into our position but it was ineffective because of ridge and the surrounding rocks. The medic, Pvt. Kelly stumbled over to me,

"Sarge, Twivs has gone into shock, he’s losing too much blood he needs an evac pronto"

"Roger that, I'm doing all I can Private, stay calm and remember to keep him calm"

Kelly stumbled back to the bleeding soldier. The SAW gunner, who was still rattled from the claymore blast, got up and positioned his SAW in-between some rocks, waiting for some Taliban militia to poke their heads out.

"Raggies 6 O clock!"

We all turned in time to see two Taliban soldiers move into the position behind us. One set up their RPK and cut into the back of my Grenadier, three rounds deflected off the plate, but the fourth and fifth ripped through his Interceptor vest and tore massive holes in his upper back. He died instantly.

Pvt. Lorraine of Kensington, Indiana fired two rounds from his M16A2 into the RPK gunner but had forgotten to reload. I brought my M4 to bear and fired five rounds. I looked into the bearded man's face as the life drained from his eyes and the blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils. The 5.56 mm rounds tore through his skin like a pencil through wet paper. He cried out "Allah Ack-" I fired another 3 rounds into him and he died.

I had never killed someone before. I'd killed for my country and I hoped that it was enough. For I never want to do it again. I gazed at my squad, now only 6 strong, they were ragged and outnumbered. We hadn't noticed but the other Soldiers firing at us from the rocks to our north has stopped firing. Then came the awful squeal of incoming mortar round, shortly followed by the sound of a UH-60 Black hawk helicopter...

Chapter 5

(Navy Deck Crew)

Aboard the USS George Washington (CVN 73) Aviation Ordinance man third class (AO3) May tiredly donned his PPE and slid the goggles over his face.  The order has just come down to load up a F/A-18C Hornet with JDAMS ASAP.  As he directed his airman and briefly conferred with the plane captain he wondered for the thousandth time what he was really doing.  

"I put bombs on planes and they come back empty.  Does this mean I'm helping kill people?  Am I a killer?  Is it wrong of me to be glad that the planes come back empty so we don't have to offload the ordinance?"

AO3 May sighs wearily as he walks back to his shop wondering where the Hornet had to get to on such short notice.

* * * *

(Goldman)

We came up over a ridge and through the fog to see a most ominous scene. Bodies peppered the ground below, both NATO and Taliban. My back clung to the open door of the chopper, by my harness holding me in place, allowing me a front row seat to the most realistic shooting gallery imaginable. I scanned the rocks and boulders with my scope, waiting for a chance. I got one, no, two. A mortar team setting up shop at 10 o clock. I motioned to the pilot to steady out a bit so I could set up the shot. I peered through and viewed the two men. Definitely not NATO. They were indeed armed however, which could mean only one thing to me. I leveled the crosshairs on the white of one of their uniforms and fired. For a second, I could have sworn I saw the bullet in mid flight, almost as though it slowed down just for me, signaling me with “Nice shot, Goldman!â€

Almost immediately after I fired, I was slightly alarmed by the loud whir of the M134 as it tore out into the scene in front of it. As soon as I came to my senses a split second later, I looked back up to where I fired and the second man was gone. Hiding somewhere. Only a splat of red on the rock behind it remained.

We circled around what looked like a pod of gunfire shooting out from the center until we could get close enough. I slung my rifle, and brought out my other scope. I looked down to see an intense face waving to us for help. “Its them! Friendlies, 9 o clock!†My own voice seemed so distant and insignificant compared to the constant beating of the rotors above. I knew my squad leader could read my lips, however. His voice had a much more potent effect. “Alright, Bring it down!!â€. With that, we landed.

We were able to set down about fifty meters from the entrenched troops. When we got low enough, we dropped the ropes, and hit the dirt. I released myself from the harness, took hold of the rope and slid down. My squad leader almost directly parallel to me on the other rope. My hands were numb from the ropes vibration on them. If it hadn’t been for my gloves, Corporal Twivlesen wouldn’t have been the only in need of a Medivac.

We made it to the desperate remnants of the squad. “Medivac is coming, they should be about three minutes behind us!â€

Chapter 6

(Vasquez)

I looked at the advancing Marine's vest. It read 'Goldman'. I dashed out to meet him at the whirl of the Black hawk taking off sent dust into the air.

"Sergeant Luiz Vasquez, 101st Airborne!"

"Goldman, Two-Six MEU"

"Roger that, we need your squad on the left, we saw some of the Raggies move towards that position, we've been taking mortar fire for about 10 minutes now and we think they're prepping for an attack."

The Marine told his Squad Leader the situation and the Heavily Equipment Marines hustled to their position, fearless and dedicated, just like the Commercials portrayed them. One thing I knew was that my Air Assault One Zero One boys were just as good. We'd see how well these Marines would hold up when the bullets started flying.

The mortars whizzed over and began impacting below the ridge, we were safe until they adjusted their fire. I adjusted my helmet and balaclava in time to see a Marine sprint to me and say,

"The Medivac ain’t coming, hit by an SA-7!"

My blood ran cold.

Chapter 7

(Haji – Afghan Fighter)

Haji shivered a little bit and clutched his rifle closer.  He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't been scared or hungry.  A few months back his friends and himself had set off from a mountain town in Northwestern Pakistan on a great journey.  They were getting the chance to prove what fierce warriors they were by fighting evil itself.  Since that point he had come to find that battling "evil" was like trying to kill water or strangle clouds.  It was always just out of reach...

His reflections were suddenly shattered when he heard the thudding of a helicopter’s rotor.  He immediately slithered under a bush and began looking for the Chopper.  Just as he spotted coming around the side of a mountain a Smokey finger reach out and touched it.  

For a moment everything stopped.  It seemed to float in the air as if on strings, then it exploded harshly and fell, no rained, from the sky.

Haji blinked a few times trying to come to grips with what he had just seen.  He moved his way forward out of the bush and began to look around for his friends and comrades.  They to began to come out of hiding grinning nervously and wondering who took the helicopter down.

After conferring briefly they spread out and began to cautiously make their way towards the wreckage.  It was amazing how a single machine like that could hold so many pieces when destroyed.  Everywhere he looked there was a flaming piece or bent metal.

Haji knelt down next to a large rock and gingerly turned over a piece of wreckage, still trying to reconcile this blackened piece of trash with the intimidating helicopter that it had been before.

Suddenly he heard movement to his right.  As he pulled up his rifle and turned, his eyes widened when saw what was making the rustling.  In that endless moment that all soldiers who have been in battle experience he saw everything clearly.  

The "demon" was leaning up against a tree.  He wasn't as intimidating as Haji had pictured to himself.  In fact he looked pretty normal, if not a little chubby on the face.  His lower body was a ruin though, blackened and mangled.  He was pawing around the ground for something.  When the "demons" hand closed on a rock he picked it up and began to throw it.

Haji shrugged to himself and squeezed the trigger on his rifle.  When he stopped firing he realized two things.  He had killed his first man, and proved that the "demons" were as mortal as he was.  Haji carefully reloaded his rifle and continued ahead a man, where he had stopped as a boy.

Chapter 8

(Afghan Fighter)

The battle was raging across the landscape, which had seen enough death and misery as it is. The jagged mountainsides themselves seemed like monuments for death itself. But I had been unlucky so far in my quest for the end.

During the flow of the conflict, I was drawn up to a wreckage of a helicopter. I arrived just in time to see one of my brothers in arms empty his rifle into a wounded enemy. This man was clutching a rock, as he died, defiant up to the moment of his death. I frowned in disgust and spat on the ground, when I saw the ruptured expression on the face of the young warrior now reloading his rifle. "What are you doing here, you fool", I thought: "You have left your family behind and come to kill in the name of your god. This god must be laughing when he sees more blood spilled for his amusement."

I leaned over the dead demon and closed his glassy eyes with my hand. On his face, the grimace of pain had been etched forever. "What are you doing here, you foolish devil", I spoke silently: "Don't you have a family back home? Why have you come here to kill us? Why do you hate us so that you try to throw stones at us when you have nothing else?"

Walking towards the sounds of battle I wondered why so many men thread these paths where only those who have lost everything belong.

* * * *

Chapter 9 (Unrelated to original plotline but still good!)

It had all gone wrong. At first it had gone according to plan. The Royal Marines had moved into the city with minimal resistance. It had looked fine until the enemy had counter attacked in large numbers. They had encircled the city and closed off any retreat route. There were only three ways out, a breakout by force, death, or in the hands of a merciless enemy. There would be no cavalry charging off to their rescue. Maj. Doyle had asked for it, but all he got was some Colonel far removed from the action telling him that they could not spare any support for them because it was needed in case the US Marine attack east of their position came into trouble. Doyle had felt like crushing the radio receiver, which had brought the bad news, but he refrained from it. He didn't feel like dying just yet, and there was no way he would surrender his men and himself to the cold hearted enemy. They would get out, or die trying. "Mr. Mackenzie, tell the boys to get ready to move out" he called out to his 2co, Captain Mackenzie. Doyle checked that the magazine in his Lee-Enfield SA-80 had a good quantity of ammo in it then he ordered his men forward. The enemy had been coming at them in human waves as the Royal Marines sat in the market square. Now they died. The Royal Marines though their way down the cramped streets as gunfire came from all around them. If a British soldier fell, he was slung onto the back of one of his comrades and they breakout moved on. Major Doyle went in the lead of the main column.

It all worked like a well-oiled machine until they came to an intersection. Here the enemy had position multiple machine guns covering the roads. Anything that moved forward would be greeted by a hail of burning hot lead. Doyle crouched in the doorframe of a bullet riddle house and worked out what to do. The enemy was not very well trained and they were spraying the streets even no there was no targets to shoot. "When they stop to reload, throw smoke and we'll move under the cover of that!" he yelled. With no self-control, the enemies emptied the belts on their Russian made machine guns quickly. "Now!" Mackenzie yelled and smoke grenades fell and the resulting thick white smoke hid the entire street. A few Royal Marines stayed behind to give covering fire while the main force went forward. As soon as they emerged from the smoke, grenades were hurled up onto the rooftops and the foes were killed as they franticly tried to reload. Doyle threw a grenade at a Kalishnikov wielding soldier like a rock and hit the man in the face. He was stunned for a few seconds and was blown to smithereens. The advance proceeded.

Chapter 10

(Goldman)

"Iv got it! Iv stopped the bleeding!†Corporal Thomas, our medic, yelled. With that, he got beside me and helped. There was almost a barricade of dead bodies about fifty or so meters in front of us. Thomas put his M16 up on a rock and started laying down fire.

The battle was overwhelming. Every time we had to stop and re-load was an open invitation for an enemy bullet. I hadn't noticed, but all of our gunfire with the exception of a few M16's, myself and an M240 gunner had stopped. My action clicked loudly indicating my weapon was empty. I stooped down behind the rock, and reached for another magazine. I knocked it against my helmet to shake off any sand, and locked it into my rifle...and then a dead body caught my eye. Not Taliban or Al Queda...this one was ours. And then one led to another...and another and another...and another. My unit was gone.

A soldier came running over to me. "My unit is gone! Its me and our gunner! We have to leave, now!" Vasquez was alive. "Our Lieutenant is hit. He comes with us! I'll cover you." I said back. He went over to Thomas and got the lieutenant back on his feet. The 101st airborne gunner had the M240 I heard. He came over to me, and we started retreating back the way the patrol first came, laying down fire as we went. I heard our medic, in between the gunfire, on his radio. "We're almost gone! Where is our air, god dammit!?"

*  *  *  *

(Vasquez)

I kept moving, there was no way I could stop. I had my M-4 in one hand and I was dragging a screaming Marine with the other. The bullet has entered through his back and blown one of his kidneys to pieces. He kicked and screamed but I knew that I had to get to cover before I could get Corporal Thomas to tend to him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a Taliban Militiaman scaling the pile of dead bodies

"Goldman hit the dirt!"

I raised my M4 and took aim and fired off a round, the bullet caught the Raggie in the chest but he kept coming. I squeezed the trigger again but instead of a 5.56 round I got a reassuring click. I panicked and dug through my pouches but it was too late.

Goldman spun around and clubbed the Taliban soldier in the ribcage with the stock of his M14. The Soldier wailed in pain and Goldman hit him again. It was like time froze as I watched the Marine batter the malnourished soldier with his Rifle. The wounded Marine screamed again and he fidgeted with a 9mm pistol he had in a Holster attached to his vest. I sprang for it and cocked it. I fired two consecutive rounds into the battered Taliban. He crumpled and fell on Goldman, his blood turning black as it touched the dusty soil.

Time unfroze when I realized that more bullets were whizzing by and the loud snaps seemed to be coming closer and closer. I finally dragged the wounded Marine to some cover. I reloaded my M4 and noticed that a bullet had destroyed the optical sight and the upper receiver. The Marine motioned to the M16 that was slung across his chest.

I snatched it up and went to check on Sgt. Goldman. Back into icy hell they called Tora Bora...

Chapter 11

(Goldman)

The sound of my M14 DMR was permanently imprinted on my brain by now for sure. Second to last mag. I was backed into a small cliff face facing my former position. They were too close. I unclipped my scope, and used the iron sights. I tried as hard as i could to be accurate, but there were so many. Last round fired and tagged a raggie in the shoulder. I pulled out my 1911 and finished him, using the last rounds on another that had crept up to my right. There was no time. I grabbed the battered Taliban man's weapon and emptied it. It was enough to keep their heads down long enough to re-load my M14. I was about to fire, but something happened before i could.

Now, there had been times when I wasn’t too fond of the 101st airborne, but i could have kissed Vasquez's gunner for what he did. The sound of fully automatic fire was created above me. I saw a dotted line appear on the scene in front of me. Sometimes the dots were a light brownish color, and other times the dots were dark red. He paused for a moment. "What the fuck are you waiting for, marine? Move it!". He was a corporal, but there was no time for seniority. I did exactly that. I picked up the AK47 and slung it, put my colt back in its holster, grabbed my rifle, and got up to see Vasquez coming toward me.

The three of us hauled ass back to where Lieutenant Hutchinson was laying.

*  *  *  *

(Vasquez)

Goldman and I hustled over to where the Lt was lying. He had lost a lot of blood but fortunately.

"He looks bad" I said

"Can we move him?" Asked the SAW Gunner

Goldman knew that it would be dangerous. I slung the M16 across my back and picked up the soldier's legs. Goldman grabbed his upper torso.

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

"Henderson give us some fire!"

Goldman and I began running to where I had dropped the other wounded Marine.

Meanwhile, SAW gunner cut into the advancing Taliban infantry, round after round slammed into the rocks near him but he didn't budge. My ears were rattling from the constant roar that the M249 produced. He ducked to reload his weapons. I set the Lt's legs down and fired my M16A2 into the Taliban who were advancing now that the murderous fire had ceased. I fired three rounds; two tore into a Taliban militia man's head and blew his brain matter all over his comrades. I started to realize how much I hated this profession...

Chapter 12

(Franklin)

Major Richard Franklin, 101st Airborne, was racing to get his AH-64 Apache into Tora Bora.  Just minutes before, the Colonel had ordered him to provide support for some of his fellow Screaming Eagles.  When Franklin heard the words, "downed helicopter" his heart nearly stopped.  It always hurts to hear about your fellow pilots going down.  Franklin had a full load of Hellfires, FFAR's, and of course his trusty 30mm cannon.  Franklin's chopper, along with the other two flanking him, screamed in over the hilltops in a wedge formation.  "We got smoke up ahead," reported Franklin's gunner, Warrant Officer Dan McClay.

The three Apaches made a quick circle of the area.  AQ and Taliban fighters surrounded the smoldering UH-60.  "McClay, light 'em up with a Hellfire!" ordered Franklin.  The missile streaked to the ground and exploded, vaporizing the Black Hawk and the fighters around it.

Franklin's wingman, Lieutenant Bell came over the radio, "I can't see any of our boys... wait... there's a lot of guys under that ridge over there... they look like ours but they don't seem to be moving."  Bell's chopper swooped over the men before his voice came back over the radio, "They're ours sir, but they're all dead."  Franklin felt like a failure, how could he have been late?  "Wait a minute, I see a couple guys running down that valley over there, they look like ours sir... SHIT!!!  WE GOT AT LEAST A HUNDRED TALIBAN!!!  They're about fifty yards up from our boys!!!"

"Fire at will gentleman, let's not lose these guys too," ordered Franklin.  The other two Apaches fired off salvos of FFAR's as McClay opened up with the 30mm.

Chapter 13

(Goldman)

The sweat on my face soon was combined with a great gust of attack chopper propelled wind. The cold that i felt on my face was the first time i felt good all day. After sleeping four hours last night, loosing $230 to our grenadier in a game of poker (though i still believe the bastard was cheating), getting over run by AQ and Taliban infantry, and loosing nearly all of my unit, THIS was a sweet sense of heavenly. I closed my eyes, and pointed my face up to where the chopper was flying and let the strong breeze that followed wisk away all the dirty moisture. I opened my eyes again to see the white haze fade into fire. I saw men retreating. Men who would have surely been the end of us. I released my tense grip on the small of my rifle stock...and took a long, deep breath.

I looked around. Everyone was just standing there, catching their wind. I looked at the lieutenant. He was breathing heavily. "Alright, saddle up. We still need to get out of here. I think theres a--". I heard our medics radio. "Whoever’s down there, i say again, a transport is coming for you. Stay there. Over." Thomas adjusted his headset. "We copy, who is this, over?" "This is Major Richard Franklin, your friendly neighborhood air strike, assuring you we have your asses covered. Just sit tight. Out!"

Chapter 14

We were moving along the Eastern flank of the battle at about 200ft, myself and my wingman Lt. Woods. The rear of my UH-1N was empty, save for my door gunner and my crew chief, Gunnery Sergeant Martin Lewis; Woods' was carrying a squad of grunts, they would secure the LZ while our boys got aboard. I looked out the window; those Apaches were cooking up one hell of a firestorm. Then the Radio came to life again:

"Captain Clarke, this is Major Franklin, we can keep these raggies busy now, get in there and get our guys out. Over."

I responded immediately, while pushing forward on the cyclic and easing off on the collective to lose some altitude; "Received Major, we're inbound, ETA 30 seconds. Out" We swooped in low and raced toward the Marines and Airborne who had been fighting so hard, at least, what was left of them. They weren’t hard to spot, a small group separated from the ocean of enemies. I flicked the Master Arm switch and gave Lewis and my door gunner the green light, they immediately began raining hot death upon the enemy below. As we raced on, my heart jumped out of my chest as an RPG roared past the front windshield, we flew through its contrail; a second later and it would have been 'goodnight Gracie.'

We came in over the heads of the friendlies and pulled left into a slide to bleed off our speed. As we did so, Lewis dropped a couple of smokes out of the door to mask the LZ. The skids hit hard on the deck, Woods' Huey set down in front of mine and the Marines began to disembark, running towards the smoke which had landed about 50 meters to our left. Lewis grabbed an M4 and headed for the smoke as well, to guide the tired men to the right helicopter

We waited...

Chapter 15

(Vasquez)

Well that’s a beautiful sight to behold. The Huey helicopter had been phased out of general service by the time I entered the 101, I'd only ridden in Black hawks and a few Chinooks. I never thought I'd see the inside of a Huey helicopter, let alone a Marine one. I figure in a flight suit and Kevlar helmet emerged from the smoky clouds.

"Gunnery Sergeant Martin Lewis, United States Marine Corp. We're here to take you and your outfit home."

For the first time today I forced a smile. He was like a godsend. Another Huey whizzed over and unloaded another squad who hastily began loading the dead American Soldiers into the chopper. I fell to tears.

Even in my years in the Barrios I had never seen such a sad sight, American boys, few older than 20, cut down in the flower of their youth. I watched misty eyed as they loaded Pvt. Kelly's limp body into the chopper. He was only 19 years old. The five of us had survived insurmountable odds. Sgt Goldman USMC, Pvt. Mike Henderson USA, My SAW gunner, Corporal Horatio Thomas USA, the Medic and finally Pvt. Samuel E Watts USMC, who later recovered from his wounds.

The ride home was quiet. None of us will forget what happened in that Mountain Clearing in Tora Bora. I will never forget Goldman's squad who kept us alive. Nor will I forget the Apache pilot who saved us from being captured and killed.

I will never forget Gunny Lewis' figure running through the thick smoke like the hand of God.

This war was far from over. I was only 24 years old and I knew there was a hell of a lot more war coming.

Chapter 14

Death…

The bodies were spread out around the valley like confetti. Every time the wind blew down the sharp valley in a concentrated gust, the baggy clothing the dead soldiers wore flapped in the wind, but the bodies’ themselves were motionless. The bodies had only been there an hour after the brutal fight, and at the moment only the smell of recently shed blood could be smelt. Soon though, would come the dreaded smell of rotting corpses, the decaying of skin.

Death…

[PiNs_Da_Smoka 0]

Hmm... I don't know how the Jar-ines do it, but in the Army, we don't call our NCO's "sir", we call them Sergeant.

[-TU--33ker 0]

Welcome back Pins!