I write classic "good vs evil" creative writing pieces with smart twists inspired by vintage action cinema, gaming, and heavy metal.
Desperate screams of my comrades were cut off by a horrible sound of approaching close-range air support, their fury makes the notorious World War 2 Stuka wail sound like an emo-pop band; the silhouettes of said aircraft alone would make a Stuka sit down in fear. Contrary to the trends of modern warfare, we weren't fighting insurgents or terrorists, the enemy was a serious force with professional soldiers and technology that overtakes ours by at least 5 years.
Also, we weren't fighting on foreign soil, rather defending of what remained of ours. To think this grinder started with a handful of their riflemen literally smashing through our checkpoint. My fireteam (4 people; rifleman, grenadier, automatic rifleman and fireteam leader) was to lay down suppressing fire while the other team outmaneuvers and engages the hostiles. (2 fireteams make up a squad) The enemy shot with deadly accuracy despite being pinned down, at least I'd like to think they were, my M249 machinegun flung hot lead at the slightest of movements. It was disheartening to see that all my efforts were in vain. As I took cover to reload, I noticed that my entire fireteam was dead; everyone lay lifelessly in our foxhole. I was all alone.
As I checked my sidearm's ammo and loaded up my LMG, the impact of the close-range air support subsided and before I finished the thought of going out like Rambo, I heard the voice of the fireteam leader of the other team.
Could it be a provocation for me to expose myself for a sniper shot? Pulling the charging handle on my gun, I carefully peeked from my cover and indeed, I saw the fireteam leader on his knees, stripped from his vest, helmet and weapons. The man's uniform was caked with dried blood and dirt; clearly, the enemy had fun with him as his left eye was missing. Spitting blood, he tried to get up; to only be kicked down by his escort. He was flanked by 3 men dressed in heavy armor; 2 sizing me up and the 3rd behind the fireteam leader.
I clutched my LMG and kicked my tactical thinking into overdrive. I knew it was all over and no one is coming for me. I knew the mission was a catastrophic failure and it's only a matter of time before they curb-stomp the next FOB. (Forward Base of Operations) 2 enemy soldiers started walking towards me, training their assault rifles as if challenging me to make a move. The fireteam leader was a lost cause since the other soldier pulled out his handgun and aimed at his head, I had a crazy thought that might just work.
Doing my best Chow Yun Fat imitation, I dove backward while spraying and praying from my LMG. A part of me expected their armor to stop a good number of my shots but its still better than a prison camp. As soon as I landed, I kept firing at the enemy's general direction until my gun couldn't fire anymore. Hearing the dreaded "click" of an empty chamber, I quickly jumped to my feet, guard up; because I am willing to fight 2 heavily armed soldiers with assault rifles hand-to-hand. To my surprise, the enemy soldiers were laying on the ground; seems the spray-and-pray scored headshots. Not checking my kills and unholstering my sidearm, I looked around for the last enemy. The search wasn't long, cold steel rubbed against my larynx as the last trooper materialised out of thin air: cloaking tech! Our version of it only works if the user is perfectly still and even then, never saw a combat test.
Ducking under his blade, I grabbed him by whatever I could reach and in desperation, started driving my sidearm grip into his neck. Lucky he was directly in front of me. The handgun grip smashed every bone and nerve in his un-armored neck - the soldier lay motionless. I survived and the mission can be salvaged; I hope the armory is still intact because the air is already relaying the approach of a whole armored division.
Disregarding all orders to pull back and winning myself a loose cannon status, I entered a bombed out hospital that was the first target of the enemy air raid. Our reserve unit was mobilised to repel the attack and restore peace in the area but for no reason, considering we had a whole battle-ready infantry platoon with APC support, orders were to pull back.
We just stood by and watched the enemy air power drop bombs on the area, destroying everything we were supposed to protect. My platoon was totally decimated by the enemy cleanup crew as we held them back albeit for 3 days. The riflemen were no problem as we fired at will; the AK 7,62mm didn't notice their heavy armor. However, we then saw the unorthodox battle tactics as suicide bombers and attack dogs led the charge while regular infantry followed, it was when it ended. My men were torn apart by German shepherds doped up on battle stimulants, cover destroyed by suicide bombs and who remained either got shot trying to flee or run over by enemy armor.
By some miracle, I played dead and the enemy let me be.
Now, I am in the middle of a destroyed hospital, my AK-12 rifle on its last mag and the only other weapon I had was a trench shovel. What am I thinking trying to save anyone in this state?! Stalking the enemy squad herding the civilian POWs into the hospital, I had no plan or hope to save anyone, just kill as much of them as I can. Slinging my carry-gun onto my shoulder, I fell back to the shovel and fast as I could, I drove it into the surprised enemy soldier who turned a corner from a hallway ahead, with more strikes, I decapitated him. An inexperienced soldier will loot for ammo and guns but the enemy's weapons were laced with biometrics that won't fire when used by a foreign person.Sometimes even booby trapped.
Setting my rifle selector switch to single-shot semi-automatic fire mode and peering into the holographic sight, I moved forward to where the POWs were lead. Civilians who didn't make it to evacuation, mostly medical and rescue personnel. Doped-up attack dogs jumping and baring their teeth, bigger enemy soldiers carrying 6-barrel chainguns and from what I could tell, an officer. He wore a beret and unlike others, he had a different patch on his uniform; looking like a Captain's rank. He didn't say a word, as if giving orders telepathically as civilians were all rifle-butted to the ground. I hope they have the self-awareness to run away when he falls and his friends chase me.
© 2019 Jake Clawson