I was among the first to line up outside the command tent, Captain Seller was shaking her head and pacing back and forth, waiting for anything, any word, to come from base camp. The NSWC.
"I think we should go now. We have an approximate location, If we act now, we can get there and get them out!" I objected, but Seller raised her hand to silence me.
"We can't, we need orders. We are in enemy territory and can't risk exposing more soldiers to their conditions."
At her words, I bit my tongue hard and waited along with the rest until the radio came on again.
"This is Commanding Officer Tomac..."
I held my breath, waiting for the next words that would come through, until I could feel the life drain from me as I damn near crumbled onto my knees.
"Nobody, I repeat, nobody, is to rush to their location. Reinforcements will arrive at 0600 BST, which is three hours from now. Then you will go to their last broadcast location and survey the area. We have no allowance on drones, you will be going in blind."
I opened my mouth to speak, but Seller glared at all of us before responding and hanging up the console.
"You heard that, everyone. We wait for reinforcements before heading in, understood?" She asked, getting a 'yes, ma'am' from most everyone.
I say most because I didn't say anything. I was glaring daggers at the radio.
I left the yard and headed where my equipment was set up, throwing on every piece and grabbing a few extra magazines for my Vector and Glock; I was leaving the Carbine this time. I was traveling as light as possible, minus my gear.
Nobody saw me as I left the tent and headed for the gate, but Seller was waiting for me.
"Going somewhere?" She asked, stepping closer until she was in my face.
"Yeah, to go save lives," I answered, staring at her gaze.
"We have orders, Andrews. Don't you dare leave this fucking castle, was I not understood?"
"No, no, you weren't."
I was being stupid, that much was clear even to me. But I deduced a piece of information from their conversation. We couldn't spare a single soldier; we were at war, so what would happen if a soldier went off to save other soldiers?
The answer is simple: The soldier couldn't be punished whether he succeeded or not, because it was all hands on deck. They couldn't punish that soldier. They couldn't do anything to me, whether they wanted to or not.
"What the fuck do you mean I wasn't?" She asked, spitting into my face.
"I'm going to go save my goddamn comrades, if that makes me a traitor, to hell with being a soldier. I refuse to take orders from fat pieces of shit who haven't even shot a fucking bullet unless it was for practice on a paper target." I answered, stomping out into the field while clutching the keys for a Humvee, which I snagged from her vest while she was busy spitting at me.
"Alan! ALAN!" She screamed, but she never chased me.
I knew she wasn't going to mention this, not because it would damage her record, but because she wanted to just as badly as anyone else. She wanted to save them too, and if she couldn't, I was.
Eli ran up to me from the tents outside, probably seeing I was heading for the Humvee with the look of death on my face. A look every soldier knew, the look that said, 'I might not make it back this time, but I'll be damned if I die here.'
"Alan! The fuck are you doing man? We get orders?" He asked, plopping his hand down on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off. It was more muscle memory, but I still did it.
"No orders, I'm saving my teammates," I replied, unlocking the Humvee and hopping in.
"Fuck that, I'm coming with, let me get my team!"
Part of me was glad he was joining me, but another part questioned whether I could go through with it if he gave me the voice of reason. Soldiers trust one another, they listen to each other, would I be able to stop if he asked?
The answer is simple, I damn sure would.
"Get in the other two, send three soldiers with me, understood?" I commanded, and he quickly nodded, followed by three soldiers getting in faster than I could say another curse word.
We rolled off down the hills and bumpy road, passing uprooted trees, fire, bullet holes, and even the remnants of broken buildings. For just a moment, I let myself think it would work perfectly.
We would get there, wipe some Russian ass, and get back with everyone alive... It didn't work like that.
Two klicks out from where Ethan made the call, an explosion warped our Humvee.
"FUCK!" I screamed as shrapnel embedded itself in my leg, the vehicle overturned too many damn times to count.
We landed hard in a ditch, upside-down as luck would have it, with blood dripping down my face. I reached for the seatbelt and it gave way immediately, slamming me into the metal roof below.
The air reeked of gasoline and blood, a singing, burning pain was flowing through my veins as I kicked the door open and fell out.
Glass covered the bottom of the ditch, my blood was spilling into the ground, and fire was gaining around us.
I moved quickly back in to see my teammates, the soldiers who came with me, but not one of them had a pulse.
One of them was with me when I was eating just the day before, Pete, he had died to shards of glass embedding themselves into his neck and damn near slicing it completely off.
The other, Rob, was the one who complained with me the day before while I was helping with the ammo train; his neck was purple and bruised, broken, snapped hard. A quick and painless death, for him.
Lastly was Amy, one of the marines who kept morale up by messing around and doing stupid chores for the others, anything to put a smile on people's faces, she did. Half of her face was already charred off, the other dragged along the concrete as we flipped. I would have liked to say painless, but most likely, she died on the final impact into the ditch, which showed in the purple bubble of a bruise on the side of her head. A broken skull.
My... comrades...
A thousand thoughts went through my head as I dragged them out from the wreckage, but they were cut off. Gunfire was drawing nearer, like drums of war calling me back into battle, alone.
I pulled out my radio and quickly linked up to Eli.
"I need this to be quick, I've got an unknown number of hostiles approaching me, chances are the road is lined with explosives. Infiltrate to the last coordinates going East, we'll flank the fuckers. Do not come and get me, there's no telling how many anti-vehicle explosives these sons of a bitches got."
I think I heard his voice come back, but the ringing in my ears got worse as I dragged my Glock-19 from the sidearm holster on my thigh. My KRISS Vector was nowhere in sight, at least for the moment; that was all I had.
They killed... my teammates.
I felt fire shoot through my body, not from a bullet, that would have been something I could have withstood. This fire was from anger, rage, from a level of hatred only veterans had ever experienced. Malice. Pure, untainted, malice.
"Американец! Там выживший американец! Откройте огонь!" A soldier yelled, lifting a rifle and aiming for my face.
My Russian was shabby because I mostly slept during my second language class, but I believe it loosely translated to, "American!" Something, something, "Shoot him down!"
At least, that made sense considering the barrage of hot iron flying towards my face, but I got a view of the hostiles. Seven soldiers, one with three stars on his shoulder, a senior officer.
They fucking killed my teammates!
I flew from behind the crushed Humvee and shot one of them in the chest twice before I dived down and managed to take cover behind a tree.
Chunks of wood and dust flew at me as their bullets crashed into the tree, but I waited. I waited until it went quiet and they reloaded. Nobody was going to kill my fucking teammates and get away with it, nobody was going to attack the people I knew and then just kill me too.
I felt another stabbing pain in my heart, like the tendrils were growing once more, but I turned my focus back to the iron shower around me.
My... teammates!
I came from behind the tree and shot three of them in the head, which might sound hard, but they came closer and closer to me as they fired before having to reload. They got themselves trapped in my domain.
A tip from a friend in high school came into mind as I threw an empty magazine at one of their heads and went for cover in the ditch nearby.
"If you're ever facing a bunch of opponents at once, don't let them trap you with numbers. No. Trap them in your domain, let their area become your environment. Use their domain against them."
He was a boxer, a hell of a good one. I wondered what happened to him before, but never stayed on the thought as the gunfire resumed.
Only two guns this time, one of them was waiting for the other two to empty their magazines before firing at me. At least they were adapting.
Fuck! FUCK! I'm not going to let this happen, I will save my remaining teammates. I'll fucking save them! So get the fuck out of my way!
I raised my pistol and shot toward the gunfire, a bullet almost got my finger, but somehow it missed.
I fired round after round until clicks came from my gun, empty, and they didn't sound like any had fallen. Guess I couldn't hit every shot after all. Shit.
I reached down and pulled a frag grenade from my vest, waited, and then caught a single glimpse of their location; all of them were closer together, still believing they had the advantage. That just made them an easier target.
Another round went right past my head as I ripped the pin out, waited a single second, and then threw it. If I were right, a rare occasion, it would land and explode right after landing. If not, I might get one if I were lucky.
The grenade exploded right on contact, the rare occasion shown through after all. The gunfire ceased after the loud pop, allowing me to get up and use my comms as I searched for my KRISS Vector, which somehow, by the grace of whatever damn deity watching over me, had landed by the tree earlier and I didn't see it.
"This is Alan Andrews, all hostiles in my location are down, moving further on foot. Humvee is out for the count."
"Roger that, continuing interception East. Stay safe out there, Casper. If you need pickup, we'll come straight away."
"Negative on that pickup, exercise caution, these bastards have bombs upon bombs and are waiting for someone to trigger them. Keep a team on lookout."
I slammed my Glock back into my holster with around thirty-three rounds remaining for it, and drew my Vector to stand in front of me as I continued through the streets. Whether it was lucky or not, I wasn't incredibly far from Ethan and his squad anymore, and I had ran a mile in no less than ten minutes in sand, on concrete would be a walk in the damn park.
Or, at least, it would have been. Except that Russian soldiers were using houses for cover as they fired upon every living being they saw. That included me.
I dived behind a corner as a line of gunfire shot up the street where I was just standing.
I tried to peek from the corner, but another shot echoed out and shattered the window right behind me. So much for getting a decent sight.
Now is where the fatal flaw of guns comes up, the recoil more or less prevents you from swinging it back and forth spraying bullets like some damn Insurgent. In other words, if you're fast enough, you can avoid bullets if they don't have a direct line on you.
That's what I took advantage of.
I made a run for the entrance to the building and somehow, by some stroke of luck by the goddess of fortune, avoided being shot.
I kicked in the door and quickly scanned the corners, looking for the staircase that I quickly found. Without waiting, I flipped the refrigerator over and used it for cover as heavy steps ran down the stairs.
"АМЕРИКАНЕЦ ЗДЕСЬ!" One of them screamed as I shot from his groin up to his head in a surprisingly straight line.
I think that loosely translates to, "The American is here!" Not that I'd know very well because I slept through Russian. Look where that got me.
"Yeah, fucker, I'm here!" I yelled back, killing the rest as they ran down the stairs with their guns drawn.
Whether it was luck or not, one of them had a Glock-19 on them, which I commandeered a spare magazine from. Not stole, commandeered.
I ran from the door back outside, and pretty quickly, I found traces of a large-scale fight.
Pools of blood were on either side of the street, bodies of dead Russian soldiers were closest, but further up were bodies of fallen marines from the third battalion.
Fuck...please, let the rest of you be alive.
I ran forward, my gun still drawn, and started hearing loud bouts of gunfire from up ahead and down another street.
I passed broken buildings, torn down posters and statues, shops on fire, but they didn't compare to the scene I was about to walk into.
I spotted the marines first, three of them, all dead and lying on the sidewalk. That meant I was coming behind the soldiers from our side, that was good, them being dead fucking wasn't. It was easier to tell because the enemy wouldn't have respect for our fallen brothers and sisters.
Much farther up, there was a group of soldiers delivering a line of fire so fierce a titan would cower. A force of nature to be reckoned with, the motherfucking SEAL Team and the rest of the third batallion. Hooyah, you sons of bitches, hooyah.
I delivered fire from right where I was, my boots planted firmly to the ground as I spurred more gunfire along with my teammates, sending a few Russian soldiers to the ground.
One of the marines turned around with his weapon drawn, an HK416, a good gun, solid design, it was largely based on the AR, not that I was complaining.
"You want to point that at them?" I asked, raising my gun as the gunfire resumed.
I slammed into the ground up ahead with them, hiding behind a monster of a truck, big enough to carry probably a few families.
To my right, I could see Ethan with sweat pouring down his face, slamming another magazine into his FN SCAR-L. "Talk about a fucking time, where's the rest?" He asked, his chest heaving up and down as he turned and delivered more fire to them, a smile on his face.
"There isn't any," I answered, firing with the rest as we started to get pushed back.
"What?" He spat out, his smile gone as he sank below the truck.
"We got one team coming up, but that's fucking it. NSWC said not to help, not even thirteen soldiers, including me, kinda went renegade here."
"FUCK ME!" He yelled, wiping his sweat-covered face with his sleeve as his mustache ruffled. I never took the time to look at him, but he had small wrinkles around his eyes, a scar just above his eyebrow, and a look of determination that could put Gods to shame.
Except he was bleeding badly. One graze in his thigh, another full wound on his shoulder, and an arm. He had a whole pool of blood under him, and he was panting as he raised his rifle with a shaky arm.
"Look, we got this, Eli's team should have been here already, but... Fuck, alright, listen up!" I yelled loud enough for everyone on our team to hear.
"I need fucking six of you delivering constant fire, when they stop breifly to reload, switch to the other six and give them hell. This tactic will only work twice at best, but fuck, just do it. We've got some forces coming up, hopefully not too far out, but they're bringing the force of hell here. Now let's give these fuckers a taste of iron!"
Everyone nodded, surprisingly, and followed. I took the chance to rush closer to Ethan and pull my kit from my leg to dress the bleeding mess that was his arm.
"Fuck me, you a medic?" He asked, barely moving as I stuffed a patch of gauze into his thigh.
"Hell no, man, intelligence. Not that I get to use it often," I countered as he laughed, his brows bent as I applied antiseptic. "This kit was just a tip from a friend, my way of honoring his advice."
"Must have been a hell of a guy, Casper."
"Yeah, could probably fix your face with enough time."
"Fuck you."
"I'm good."
I wrapped his shoulder and let him continue firing above us as I set my kit aside and lifted my Vector to help with the fire.
They killed these marines, they killed my teammates. Now, I'll kill every last one of them; nobody else I know will I allow to die. I am a fucking SEAL, not some bitch.
A few soldiers dropped like flies as I fired with the rest of the team, although a few enemies pressed forward and wound up driving us back slightly.
"Ethan, hear me out. You stay here, hold the line, I'm going to intercept them."
"Fuck no you aren't, that's suicide right now!"
I moved to stand, but he dragged me down.
"You hear me out now, we hold the line with the rest, and wait for those reinforcements. I ain't having a young soldier like you die in my place."
I didn't get to answer as a marine shouted something above the noise of the gunfire. "GRENADE!"
I tackled Ethan to the side, and a loud pop came from behind us, followed by screaming so loud it passed through the ringing in my ears.
A few marines were lying dead, shrapnel in their chest and legs, while others were riddled with bullet holes, their bodies torn open and laid to rest in a puddle of blood.
Guts showed through the holes as I fell backward onto my hands, a massacre above anything else I had ever seen. A bloodbath forged from hell itself.
"RETREAT!" I shouted, dragging Ethan with me as I picked up another Marine and carried us back maybe one hundred feet before plopping us all down behind a car.
Fuck, fuck, we're all going to die at this rate! Use your fucking brain Alan, use it! Come the fuck on! Come on!
Ethan was the first to rise and return fire to cover the escaping marines who followed us, and then I did, even the one who was shot in both of his legs that I carried provided the cover they needed.
There's a saying on the battlefield, or a type of hope. "Those who walk the path of a warrior must be ready to bleed, to break, and to fall; because honor is paid in pain, and freedom is bought in blood."
No soldier doesn't embody that phrase as we fight, no soldier who refuses to honor those words, and every soldier lives those words. Like the brave men and women who fought on that road, and the ones who had died behind us as we fought through the battles.
As soldiers, we fight; and as soldiers, we die.
A shot rang through the skull of the marine who helped us provide cover fire, and another went into my shoulder where my previous wound was, and finally, one through Ethan's ear.
The marine fell to the ground, then I, and as another shot went through Ethan's other shoulder and collarbone, he too, fell.
"NO!" I screamed, clutching Ethan in my hands as he went unconscious.
Another saying is more outspoken in life: "The moment you tear apart what keeps someone human, when you rip and tear away the people that center someone, you release the person they've hidden deep inside."
My biology teacher had a lesson on it as well, I could remember it as clear as day.
"Now, class, what happens when we corner a rat? They bite back, that's correct. But, does anyone know what other species that applies to? That's right, all of them. Humans, especially, as they are, fight to the death despite their injuries when they are backed into a corner."
Even my humanities teacher brought up something similar; hell, he was the most thorough.
"What happens when we trap someone in a room? They fight to escape, yes. Now, what if we give them one wall to exit, but it is blocked by a man with a gun? They will fight the man to escape. To fight for your life, regardless of circumstance, is the most common thing in human nature."
Finally, what Dan said to me during the last part of SQT.
"You can't think you're weak, because when you're at your weakest, you're also at your strongest. To rise above that weakness and conquer what made you like that is the essence of being strong; it has nothing to do with your body, but your mind."
My eyes glowed bright orange as I picked myself off the road and raised my Vector, pointing it toward the enemies.
I was backed into a corner, therefore, I was to fight out. I was trapped by three walls, therefore, I had to kill the hostiles guarding my only escape. I was at my weakest, therefore, I was at my strongest.
I took the spare frag Captain Seller handed Ethan and pulled the pin, tossing it into the enemy ranks and spraying heavy fire at them alone. As the grenade blew, I had already reached for and grabbed the last one from my vest, taken out the pin, and tossed it at them. They didn't expect it back to back, because as they stood, I fired and let the grenade take care of what it could.
"Я сам отправлю каждого из вас к Сатане!" I shouted, and this time, I knew what I was saying. A threat vile enough to have any christian lady praying to a cross. It meant, "I will personally send each one of you to Satan!"
I raised my Vector, slammed another magazine into the chamber, and sprayed bullets at every last one of the fuckers who stood up. They killed my teammates, and for that, they were going to die. I would make sure of it.
I could vaguelly see human shapes cowering inside the window shops around us and realized why the marines and SEALs were fighting so damn hard further up, to keep the civilians remaining safe. And now, it was my duty.
My eyes glowed brighter as a shot grazed my arm, narrowly missing my vein and probably an artery.
As I cemented myself to the ground, I continued firing toward them. I wasn't going to fall, I would never fall, because people were counting on me. That is the greatest calling and duty anyone, man, woman, or soldier, could take upon their shoulders.
A shot came from behind me, and I watched as a soldier's eyes rolled back into his head as his brain exploded over the road and his comrades.
Without breaking my flow, in their confusion, I fired harder and pressed forward toward my earlier position. I was guarding their lives with mine, no matter the cost.
Another soldier prepared to throw an F1 grenade, a small but highly volatile explosive, but I shot his hand and he dropped it. His eyes went wide as it exploded and killed the rest of them hiding with him.
I won't fucking fall!
A shot pierced the side of my foot, but I kept going, covering and firing, back to back, over and over, until the civilians would be safe.
I SAID I WON'T FUCKING DIE HERE!
Blood dripped from my body as I kept going, and another shot came from behind, taking out a Russian preparing another bomb.
"I got your ass, Casper," Her voice came over the comms, Captain motherfucking Seller.
"Keep shooting, we need to buy time for Eli's team to flank them so we can get these civilians and soldiers out. Ethan's unconscious, I don't know how long he has left."
"Roger that."
After another minute tops, six Russian soldiers ran away, their hands empty, as a low rumbling came closer.
It slowly got louder, like a train, except smaller. More versatile. Something with firepower.
"You're shitting me..." I muttered, sweat and blood pouring down my body.
"That's a fucking T-72 tank," Seller mumbled over the comms, her voice almost empty.