3 Guitar Solos: Flash Fiction on Heroics
The world was ending around me as mortars and fire rained from the sky, pulverizing everything blocking their onslaught of destruction. It was only seconds ago I was aboard the troop transport counting my blessings and thinking about my friend; he thought he could overpower a machinegun nest; "Show them pain." were his last words as I tried in vain to shove his gizzards back into him.
We were supposed to support another division that was keeping the enemy at bay, last we heard they came face to face with an armored division; the finest tankers the world has ever seen. We must have made quite an impression since we were the hardest and boldest guys ever, so our sergeant told us.
Now I lie pumped full of shrapnel and splinters, my rifle in hand and numbness in another; the regiment is gone and the enemy has broken through. I can hear foreign accents and track grinds now. I'm all that's left from the promised reinforcement wave; might as well try and keep it. 5 rounds in the magazine and a hand grenade on my belt should be enough to pay for the enemy's seat as they ride with me to the hereafter.
I hope there is room for a tank too.
The Asphalt Fighter
Driving at top speed over rough terrain; destroying obstacles that I don't even notice anymore while dodging incoming gunfire which came from what seems like everywhere; too dark to see where from. We were on a mission where failure was unacceptable and irreversible; preserving humanity in a time when everything fell.
My ears were hissing from the non-stop gunfire that went back and forth between us and the attackers; my eyes, however, were more vigilant as I tried to make up for it as I outmaneuvered hijackers on motorcycles; crushing some under our vehicle. All this while managing to shoot from my Beretta if some did get lucky and made it onto the chassis.
We made it to a smoother road but this was no relief since the pursuers brought out faster vehicles; motors roared in the night as psychotic laughter and screeching echoed through the cold air. Ammo was low and our armor was living on happy thoughts now but I could see the light on the horizon; our fellow man waiting for relief.
At this point, I was proud of that time I painted my helmet black, revved up the engine and tore the volume knob off the sound system as the psychotic laughter met with heavy metal at max volume. I took off; deciding to be the road fighter the asphalt needed.
The Tank Commander
Everyone was going mad from the constant stress of combat, death, and losses; we already lost a lot of ground and top brass held us on a leash for no reason. I signed up to be the spearhead of an attack which stroke fear into enemies of our freedom instead I sit far away from the combat; cowardice and cowardice is treason.
Convincing my superiors to double patrols around our territory, I took the first watch and rode my war machine into the night. The driver was picking up speed as the gunner kept watch; the enemy was nearby and it was my chance to turn the tide of war and boost the morale of my friends; winning back the strength to go on.
The enemy did not expect this; my tank roared angrily as the coaxial machinegun sprayed their infantry down. I gave the order to my gunner to let fly a sabot round into an enemy structure where they came from. I already could hear my superiors losing it over the comms; setting the receiver down, I gave a move order.
My gunner spotted an armored colony heading towards our lines, "Fire at will!" I ordered as I scanned the area some more, the enemy suffered heavy losses; 3 burning tanks, destroyed installations and the remaining infantry desperate to carry away their wounded and all that while nursing their fatally wounded pride. Top brass sent them nothing but cannon fodder but now, things are going to get serious.
I glanced at the forward area where the headlights were facing; I placed a cross decal on the lights before the war; as in his light we shall find victory and peace.
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