• Western Gaia - Sands of Tiban
    1300 Friday, 2010 .::Six hours and 30 minutes after F-hour::.
    13* F
    Mission: Apocalypse Rising
    Sergeant Randy Masters
    101st Gaian Airborne Division, 502nd Regiment, E Company, 3rd platoon, 2nd squad

    Randy felt a tug on his parachute straps as the wind flared up under his chute. It pulled and tugged him upwards, knocking the breath out of him. Looking from under his helmet, the sergeant of 3rd platoon, the Hell Jumpers, was on his on his way into the town of Tena, the supposed town who created F-hour. A whole six hours and thirty minutes early, the 3rd GID was attacked and over run, a major Crok offensive had swarmed the town. So, the Army Intelligence unit was scorned and flamed for letting this slip. The entire 3rd GID was utterly destroyed. Bits and pieces of their units stir every once in a while, creating havoc and chaos. But other then that, they are all destroyed. There was an estimated 7168 Infantry men dead. 7168! It sickened Randy to think of so many. Sighing with disappointment, he floated downwards. His whole job was to deploy into the town, and take it back. The whole 101st was going in. A through I companies, all of them. He was angry, they were being stupid with their tactics. The entire 3rd GID wiped out, then a battalion from the 4th was wiped out on the hill sitting NEXT to the city, there was reports of a whole armor company being there, R models, and a battalion of Mechanized Infantry. It sickened, angered, and depressed him.

    Slowly, the town came into sight. His mind swept through sand tables, GPA points, RV points, and the retreat, rally point. Smiling, he heard gun fire in the distant. "It begins now." he said softly, enough for him to hear over the wind. Anti-air boomed into the sky, cutting into the planes dropping the airborne troops. Parachutes were all over the sky, and yellow tracers were flying over them. Randy was thinking on how bad it must be for battalion, that they had to send an entire division on an ALL DAY jump. "Command is really f*** up now..." he said to himself. Sighing, he waited for the ground to come closer. He was overwhelmed with a morbid calm. Here he was, watching other men die, and he couldn't shed a tear, nor cry in anger. Instead, he watched the airborne come down, noting that each one looked like an angel. "Hell Jumpers, here we go, again." he said, and saw that the ground was considerably closer. Bending his knees, he absorbed the blow of the ground and landed with a loud 'thud'. Getting up, he unclipped his parachute clips and sprinted to the nearest wall, pressing his wall against it. Alpha one was his only thought. It was an inside joke in his platoon. It was like the army's many sayings, or what they said to others, like fubar. Their's was Alpha one. Shaking his head with another smile, Randy sprinted out of the alley way he was in, and stopped right before the end of the wall, pressing his back against the wall again.

    He heard the anti-air still going, and many shouts of foreign language. The Croks were really confused, it amazed him. With a low chuckle, Randy peeked around the corner, and watched a platoon of Crok, their backs turned to him, help put up barricades. Shaking his head, Randy reached for a grenade. He stopped, seeing another paratrooper land in the street, down the road from the Crok and Randy. Cursing, he stopped and brought up his M4, seeing the paratrooper get up and run behind a car, just in time to escape the deadly bullets of the now aware Crok. "God d***it!" said Randy. The paratroop, he could hear, yelled for help. Shaking his head, Randy quickly stepped out from behind cover and sprayed his rifle into the enemy. He was aiming about stomach height, so it cut into many Crok. The rest screamed with surprise and anger, turning their attention to him. The bullets of his enemy pinged and zipped off the concrete between him and the Crok. Large chunks of concrete flew off, spraying dust into Randy's eyes. "Ah!" he cried, curling against the wall to protect himself. His hearbeat sped up a great deal, making a large pounding in his chest.

    He turned to see a whole platoon of paratroopers on the other side of the street, in another ally way. Shaking his head rapidly, he held up his fist to tell them to stop. Using a mirror of his, he slowly pushed his hand out to view the Crok. More had arrived, it was going to be one big firefight. It looked like a whole two more platoons showed up. Sighing, he pulled his hand back, and made hand signals, telling the other paratroopers of their situation. He also made a gesture to the still screaming airborne soldier hiding in terror behind the car. The return reply was something Randy expected, and wanted. They would provide covering fire for Randy while he rescued the other soldier. Nodding, he signaled his agreement. Randy readied himself, getting into the zone, a heavy metal song pounding in his head. "It's all a dream...That's it...just a game" he said slowly. Shaking his head, one more time, he looked at the platoon leader across the street and nodded. Shouts from the Crok started to rise, and the Platoon leader held up three fingers, dropping one at a time. As he dropped all of them, Randy popped around the corner, spraying his rifle into the enemy, the others did the same, each one of them springing from behind the wall to dive onto the ground, opening fire. The Crok were surprised, again, and dropped back. Hiding and taking cover, they dared not get to far into the open. Randy took the opportunity, and ran. He sprinted in zig zags. Bullets jumped at his feet and whizzed bey him like bees. Ducking, he cursed loudly and dove behind the same car as the other paratrooper. Looking up, he almost puked. The soldier stirred slowly, his chest completely blown open. It was to much for Randy. He emptied his stomach and looked back at the man. His face portraid an odd feeling. He was smiling, and...he looked like he was in...hysteria. "Oh...lookie here." the soldier said weakly.

    "Hold still, I can bandage you up." he replied slowly, reaching forward.

    The soldier caught his hand quickly and shook his head. "No, just prop me up, I am going to die, take my dog tags. Give them to my family...Just prop me up so I can blow the h**l outta these sick b******s." he said softly. With a grin, he nodded towards Randy. Randy did as he was told, sickened, but he still did it. After proping him up, Randy gave the man an extra mag. "Have fun." he said and dove out from behind cover, sprinting back up to the platoon. He could hear the man whooting and hollering behind him, bullets flying past him, towards the flesh of his enemies. This is going to be a long day Randy thought to himself.

    To be continued


    Author Note: Like I promised, I would tell you a little about myself. Well, as if you couldn't tell, I am from a militaristic family. My brothers were deployed for two years, and my dad just got back from a deployment. I write these stories, because when I was young, I always fantasized about joining the military. It was my ultimate dream. Now...a couple of years have changed, and I have seen the true horrors of war. I write these stories to remind myself of what war really is, and why my brothers and father don't talk much about it.

    ~Thanks for listening

    Sasha (Or Neko [Or Alex] Either one works)