0000 HOURS.
TUESDAY, 14 AUGUST 2097.
UNKNOWN, AFRICA.
“Did you hear the Navy story of 2088?” First Sergeant Eric Briner said shifting his weight on the small rock he had found.
Here in the desert the sixteen-man platoon were separated into two squadrons of eight and remained huddled together under specially made thermal capturing blankets that the army had cooked up for the regular GI. Underneath the blanket, each wore a battle-dress-uniform capable of refracting and using light to form an optical camouflage. Though the technology had just gotten past the prototype phase, it was the most technological device Eric had seen with exception of an autonomous drone from an ancient game he played years ago.
This was all thanks to the man being a part of Special Forces Operational Detachment – Delta. Though, such prestige did little to keep warm in the freezing African night.
“No, we aren’t sailors,” Master Sergeant Joshua Smarts said focusing on the gentle light the dry fuel gave off. “I’m sure they love to make stories up.”
“In our line of work that line of thinking rarely works.”
Joshua’s lack of curiosity for any subject once more nearly killed a conversation. The platoon of Delta Force Commandos had been lucky enough to make it this far without boring themselves to death. No matter how much fame they had, it was always a constant that these missions contained within long stretches of land were the worst. Any tactic, technique, planning, or adjustment to a mission could never make up for the pain of rucking over fifty miles since their insertion time at 2300 Zulu time.
Their mission was simple enough: perform reconnaissance on an enemy encampment no more than 100 miles from the nearest headquarters. Such a mission could have been performed by RRC or a regular infantry division, yet High Command had ordered this platoon to take on this mission giving the idea that there was something more to happen beyond the briefing.
“So, what is the story about?” Major Phillip Killers asked trying to ignore the biting cold that threatened to cast hyperthermia.
“The USS Mantis was lost at sea in the Antarctic for a week,” Eric said. “Upon trying to establish a connection to the fleet operating in South America, the were forced to surface due to stumbling across two unknown fleets that were having an all-out brawl on the open seas. Apparently, the captain of the submarine had his crew record and save the video they shout through their periscope, and what they saw were vessels no different from an English Man-O-Wars from the eighteenth-century fighting.”
The men gathered around the fire found it hard to stifle small smiles and their growing looks of disbelief at the absurd story Eric had told. Naturally the first sergeant had only explained half of the story, but it seemed that small bit was enough to reignite the interest of his fellow commandos.
“You really expect us to believe that?” Joshua questioned being reminded that Eric was a chipper man who enjoyed speaking to others. This went against his own quiet and anti-social nature.
“Believe what you want, but there was a tape of the incident that was spread around the Pentagon before intelligence cleaned it up. Apparently, there was something so dangerous that no one in the populace or the government has clearance for it. If anything, only the president and secretary of homeland security have authority to access it.”
Those words were more than enough to make everyone that heard Eric go silent as he continued to tell the rest of this tall tale with an unmoving, emotionless appearance.
1714 HOURS.
TUESDAY, 14 AUGUST 2106.
KARAK, PAKISTAN.
Fucking sun. Mike thought to himself. Taking no more than five seconds to adjust to the reality he had awoken in, Mike pursed his dry lips before licking them and using his gloved right hand to wipe away the crud that had formed in his eyes.
Cupping the left side of his angular helmet, Mike activated the visor that was laid over his eyes. He squinted as the heads-up-display activated, but soon he was looking at the augmented reality the visor shined onto the word he looked at.
On the bottom right he saw the members of his squadron, Lieutenant Andrew Devlin, Corporal Anthony Richard, PFC Jacob Green, PFC Cage, and PFC Jonah Simon.
“Marines are trailing behind again.” Jacob Said as he looked over his shoulder and back out the rear window of the Armored Tactical Multipurpose Vehicle (ATMV) they rode in down the paved highway south of Peshawar.
“Don’t let them lose sight of us.” Andrew responded motioned the PFC to the radio sitting on the center console. Instead of the corporal sitting in the front, he had ordered Jacob to do it due to his nature as a tech-wiz, and the fact that Corporal Anthony Richard was no longer trusted to handle communication with other units. There was a long story to that one.
In retrospective, working alongside the Marine Corps was beneficial to Task Force Spare. Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) and the Joint Chiefs of Staff had drawn jarheads from 1st Battalion 5th Marines to supplement the ground combat units that would be working to destabilize the FMIP and take out target “Brutus”. Though the idea was perfect in those working behind the pen and paper in Washington D.C., the rowdy nature of the Marines had made encounters with the local Pakistani forces difficult. They were as sharp as a knife and could outshoot anyone, but when it came to parlaying with the people, the Marines were at a standstill as they waited for the Rangers and other service members to work out the minute details.
Why the top brass decided to choose these Marines? That was anyone guess.
“They’ve caught up to us, LT.” Jacob announced as he leaned forward and placed the radio back in its original position.
Hearing a chatter-like noise next to him, Mike looked away from the PFC as he eyed the latch of a green ammunition box next to him. With his right hand did he grasp the latch and tighten it stopping the incessant noise and providing some peace as the roar of the ATMV’s engine threatened to take his soul back into the long hours of slumber once more. Mike had never truly been a heavy sleeper. He was only taking these cat naps due to the last 72 hours that he had been awake as he and the other members of his platoon had been preparing for their deployment from India. Working under the blazing heat near Dubai was something the sergeant would never imagine he would do, but now he could confidently tell his sister that he had been close enough to the crown jewel of the world inside of a transport plane. He had even been lucky enough to taste a luxury meal that was served on his initial flight into the country, though that put a fair hole into the money he had set aside for this campaign.
“Hey, the army was sending some squirrels to actually perform the raid, right?” Richard’s voice snapped Mike out of his limbo.
“That’s what the colonel said.” Andrew responded keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
“I mean, all they said was that they were being sent from under Army Special Operations Command. That could entail Green Berets, but why not just name them at that point?”
“Obviously it’s something well beyond our paygrade.”
“Don’t we fall under ASOC? We should have the ability to know who we are working alongside.” Anthony tried to reason to someone that wasn’t even present.
Mission details that were under Operation Silver Strike were unknown. For the army brigades that had been activated for the campaign their mission was clearly defined. Even those higher-ups in the food chain had been made aware of their mission even if the information came from the activity. Chain of command had dictated that the Rangers be aware of their mission in Peshawar; the assassination or capture of target Brutus was clearly defined, but whom the players that were to take on this challenge had remained a classified secret. The profiles of the operators selected would remain redacted and sloshed with black ink.
“Just don’t let that distract you from the mission. We still have to secure the outer cordon while the SSG get that inner cordon up and running.”
Andrew paused as he stared a hole through his helmet’s visor.
“Mike, sync up. I’m not seeing you on my HUD.”
Raising his left hand up to the side of his helmet, the sergeant traced the buttons with his fingers and settled on the smallest one. With a firm press the button made a clicking noise and a connection bar was displayed at the top left of Mike’s visor. He watched as the bar filled and a small progress bar streamed full letting Mike know that he had connected to the internal sub-network that Lieutenant Andrew had activated during the ride towards Peshawar.
“Connected. Am I showing now?” Mike said.
“Yup.” Holding the steering wheel firmly, Andrew blinked away from the name added to his squadron list. The new “Firebird” communications and combat network software that the DOD had pushed upon the army had its problems but unlike the previous attempts at creating a world-wide satellite network, this one had managed to win the hearts and minds of the average infantry grunt and had shown its worth to the congressional authorities who greenlit the 2.3-billion-dollar project. Now the any-day soldier could communicate with any nearby allies and vehicles and coordinate effective combine-arms warfare without the potential of alerting the enemy.
This “counterinsurgency” as the people in Washington D.C. so kindly put it would be different than any other conflict that had ever been witnessed. Artillery is king on any battlefield, but it can only perform its designated job if the men on the ground had the tools necessary to win the battles that would turn the tide of the war that spanned the globe. The War on Terror had evolved. Gone were the days of precision strikes and surgical timing, now doctrine called for assaults that rivaled the scale and prowess of the Gulf War.
“Damn, this heat is making me feel all prickly,” Anthony complained.
“AC is on, drink water,” Andrew replied. The air-conditioning unit on their ATMV was at a steady blast and was working just fine. The reason why the corporal hadn’t reached over and put the thing into full-send was due to the lieutenant driving the vehicle having final say, and Andrew was adamant to not get into trouble with the medic of the platoon due to dehydration of his squadron.
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“Wonder if the Chinese are having to deal with this. There were reports of them deploying army troopers near the border.” Jacob added making the men around him arch an eyebrow at his words.
“The PLA?” Mike said, puzzled.
“There’s a lot of fighting going around their border. The Mongolian Union is not going to let up along with the coup that was started by that one admiral,” Jacob said aware of the international turmoil the nation was under. “Apparently they might try to reinstate the former president.”
“There are a lot of Russia and us are the real threat. I’d say China collapsing is something we can’t ignore, but the UN has just written it off as usual. If the Mongolian Union has them surrounded, then I can’t say what will happen when Korea, Japan, or India gets involved.” Mike surmised in two breaths.
“Ideological distortion?”
“Something like that.”
China was an enigma on the world stage. Long had they moved past their once great strive to be the dominant world power and instead with the change of leadership that happened within the CCP, it seemed the once proud nation had mellowed out and opted to simply remain in control of their spheres of influence. President of the CCP, He Ao Lie had put external pressure on Australia, the Philippines and India, but it was primarily due to corporate espionage rather than territorial conflicts. With the advent and sudden uprising of the newly formed Mongolian Union, China had begun to placate the United Nations and play nice with their enemies towards the east. If they were to survive the constant attacks against their northern and western borders, and guarantee security to the remaining 600 million people still under their control it would be worth every cent painting themselves in a good-shoe light.
“Lieutenant Devlin, radio check.” Captain Oliver Thompson, the CO of the platoon croaked over the radio making the 1st Lieutenant do a double take to make sure he had heard his voice.
“Check. What is the situation, captain?” It was no surprise that something had happened. The convoy was moving at a slower pace down the highway and just in the distance a small checkpoint was visible.
“We seem to have a Pakistani checkpoint just ahead. ISR just confirmed their ping, so keep your weapons on safe as we pull up.” Thompson ordered. Clearly, he was annoyed at this situation.
“Rog’, we’ll take care of our side. Should I inform the Marines?”
“They were the first I contacted.”
Both men chuckled. “Good call captain, out,” Andrew said clicking off the radio. “Hear that, keep your rifle down, Richard.”
“Hooah, suck my ass, LT.” Alexander let out a sharp groan as he raised his hips to pop his back.
“You suck enough already.”
This was Alexander’s second deployment. Though he had been in the army for four years, this was the first time he had been on a tour outside of the United States. He served as an intelligence analyst with the Big Red 1 before having his MOS changed to an 11B, an infantryman due to him setting off his former CO with his snarky attitude. The corporal was eventually sent off to Ranger School then RASP when he was noticed by a colonel for his skill set that was hidden behind every report that crossed his hands. Alexander by no means was the ideal soldier, but he could keep his scores on the high-end and was able to serve his purpose within the regiment.
Being a Ranger was something he never expected to come to fruition within his meager career as a soldier. Thus, he tried to adjust to the new environment and those around him. It would take time for him to fully settle into the life of one-of-the-best amongst the infantry, but this was an opportunity for him to at least gain insight into what he should do next after his time in the army was up.
And there was one more reason.
Various troopers stood ahead guarding the checkpoint, each watching their designated lines of fire and making sure nothing crept up on their post. Their position was along a major highway. President Al-Haroona had ordered the remnants of the military to effectively lock-down the country while Operation Silver Strike was imitated. Alexander reached his fingers down against the side of his rifle and flicked the fire selector slowly.
“Convoy, halt.” Oliver’s voice made the vehicles come to a slow stop at the checkpoint. Just leaning into the window on his side of the ATMV, Alexander watched as the captain exited the second vehicle with a bundle of documents in his gloved hands. It was remarkable how the Pakistani’s, despite their cry of help to the western powers, stalled any advancing coalition forces.
Oliver, primarily known as “Captain Thompson” by his men began to speak to the Pakistani troops gathering at the front of the convoy. They seemed just as annoyed with their orders as the Ranger captain was, and as they spoke in Arabic, it was clear that they would’ve let the convoy through were it not for the unknown ranked officer standing in the observation platform overlooking the entire highway. Before a decision could be made at the front, the captain suddenly turned around and looked directly at the vehicle that everyone was sitting in. Alexander grew anxious as Oliver placed his left hand on the radio that sat just on his left shoulder.
Andrew’s radio clicked to life as the captain spoke over the open air,“Lieutenant, we have a situation here, get a couple men out and stand by for dismount.”
“We got you covered, sir.” Andrew responded as he removed his hands from the steering wheel and raised them to a small magnetic lock that held his carbine in place. As he disengaged the lock, tucked the weapon into his arm, and slapped the bolt release the junior officer’s squadron all watched the desert surrounding them with sharp eyes.
“Is something going on?” Alexander asked as he barely lowered himself behind the door on his right. He was confident that the armor plating on the door would give him a moment to react, but he wasn’t so sure if the ballistic glass was up to standing against multiple bullets.
“Sergeant, dismount, and wave down some of the Marines. Jacob, you go with him.” Ignoring the question that the corporal had, Andrew dispersed his orders as he activated his radio and switched to the Marine frequency.
Finding the handle to his door, Mike let out a heave as he opened the armor-plated door. The hot air of the lowering sun collided onto his body and harsh orange rays of light blinded him momentarily as he lowered himself onto the semi-barren highway. With the orders provided to the Pakistani military, martial law had been declared and most of the nation was empty with exception to some pockets of the populace that ignored the order and attempted to flee to the countryside. Though small, the number of civilians moving was enough to overwhelm the meager national forces and were allowed to proceed unimpeded. Just down the line a platoon’s worth of Marines had dismounted and taken defensive positions around their vehicles. Five Marines, surmised to be a part of the same squadron walked hastily towards Mike and Jacob.
“Sergeant!” The leader of the pocket of Marines, one Gunnery Sergeant Black took a moment to see the insignia velcroid onto Mike’s helmet. He provided a lazy wave and the two Rangers he had called out to approached him.
“Gunny! There seems to be a problem with the troopers up ahead, we’re dealing with it right now.” Due to his first duty station being Fort Sam, Mike was familiar with the Marine Corps, and he was on decent terms with the Black and his men as they had trained extensively during the buildup for Operation Silver Strike.
“Damn locals! Can’t they just let us do our job?”
“It would be too easy of a mission if there weren’t any roadblocks.” Jacob retorted over the overbearing hum of the armored vehicle behind them garnering laughs and chuckles from the Marines.
“You’re damn right, Nugget! We’ll go talk some sense into your CO and those natives.” Black stated as he walked ahead towards the group of soldiers gathered at the checkpoint.
“Knock yourself out.”
Returning to a safe distance between the open highway and their vehicle, both Rangers moved to the right side of the ATMV as they tried to shield their eyes from the burning sun that was not far from the distant horizon in the west. Watching the distant, brown-colored patches of grass and the great, spanning desert, Mike’s eyes instantly snapped to a small black dot that was at least two kilometers away. He focused on the single dot. It seemed to be a single man carrying something. The dot continued to move barely a half inch before it stopped and remained in place. At least five seconds passed before a white puff emerged from the top of the dot and Mike’s blood went cold. His hand instantly snapped to the radio on his chest, but he wasn’t fast enough to warn anyone when a whistling noise emerged for a split-second.
A resounding, thunderous boom emerged from the observation platform at the checkpoint. In a fiery blaze the tower collapsed, and the initial blast of smoke and dust began to settle as a large stream of black smoke rose from the site of impact. Just being able to see through the dust, Mike saw as his captain crawled on all fours towards a wounded Marine. Oliver saw that shrapnel lined the Devil Dog’s upper torso and he grabbed the Marine by his drag handle and pulled him behind the lead convoy vehicle. Muffled gunfire was exchanged by both sides as a firefight ensued as the formerly hidden enemy rose from the ground. Those attacking the coalition forces hid beneath brown colored, desert patterned blankets and proceed to continue their ambush.
“Contact west! Eight times riflemen!” Moving to the nearest set of cover, the Marines that halted just in between both groups were quick to move behind the visual cover of a white truck on the side of the highway. The four had all gathered around the front of the truck but were struggling to find an opening to spread out to not have their position exposed.
To the tempo of the bullets being fired, the rest of Mike’s squadron dismounted and began to spread out behind the cover of the convoy. The sergeant and PFC beside him took cover on the opposite side of the vehicle and moved to position where they could return fire on the eight tangos that had exposed themselves on the desert. Each hostile gunman was prone as the crawled forward taking pot shots to suppress any immediate resistance from the coalition force.
“I see an opening!” A Marine, a young one no less than nineteen shouted.
“Lance, stay behind fucking cover!” His sergeant screamed
“I’m sure—” The young Devil Dog took a bullet directly to the center of his chest and crumpled to the ground. Mike watched out of the corner of his eye as the Marine laid on the ground as the others all shifted left waiting for the spilt second to grab their fellow jarhead.
“Jacob, with me!” The sergeant boomed as he stepped out from behind the truck and made a dead sprint to the white truck with the PFC trailing just behind him. The two Rangers slammed their bodies against the white truck. Jacob moved to the right side and began to lay down suppressive fire and Mike moved to the left and tapped the Marine waiting to lunge out on the shoulder.
“We just need two seconds!” The Marine sergeant bellowed.
Groaning in pain, the lance corporal reached out his arm and let out a horrifying scream as used his strength to pull himself on the asphalt. With the young man making the time mark, Mike leaned out with the Marine sergeant and grasped onto the boy’s arm dragging him back behind the truck. Looking over the teenager, a com link was displayed on the top right of the Ranger’s HUD.
“Rhino Two-One, Bravo Two-Four, requesting fire mission, over!” Lieutenant Andrew’s voice was strong over the radio but was clear enough to understand every word he said.
“Bravo Two-Four, go for fire mission.”
“Eight times riflemen, three-hundred meters east from current Blue-Force Marker!”
“Three-hundred meters east from BFM.” The artillery operator parroted.
“Utilize anti-personnel munition!”
“Switching to anti-personnel ammunition.”
“Clear for fire.”
“Clear for fire, T-minus five seconds.”
Playing like an erratic and broken metronome, the tempo of gunfire exchanging between both sides only intensified as the coalition forces began to use everything they had to suppress and stop the hostile shooters in their place. With the enemy halting their fire to conceal their positions with smoke grenades, Mike, Jacob and the Marines finally had enough breathing room to move the wounded Marine behind the nearest armored vehicle.
“Come on! Come on!” Alexander bellowed as he and the other Rangers pulled the Marines behind cover and away from imminent danger.
At that same second four sharp whistles snapped above.
“Impact.”
Growing insatiably loud, the whistle was drowned out by the sudden boom of the artillery shells landing on the enemy position. Rupturing the desert floor and swamping the hostile forces in shrapnel, dust, and hazardous residue the tempo that once filled the battlefield was cut short. The shouts of the Marines occupied and replaced the frantic emotions that everyone had, even the lance corporal was cheering as the only Corpsman present showed face and began to oversee his wounded Devil Dog. On the other side near the checkpoint, Oliver began to direct the Pakistani forces to clean up the area and secure and stabilize their wounded. His scream in Arabic were broken as he tried to help the Marine, who was none other than Gunnery Sergeant Black. The captain aimed to at least help the Gunny until he could be transported on a MEDIVAC back to the nearest field hospital.
“Fucking excellent shot, eight hostiles confirmed killed in action!” Andrew’s voice grew sharp as he remained behind the front of his ATMV with a pair of binoculars.
A chuckle emerged from the other side of the radio.
“Our pleasure, out.”
Publicly Available Information: Situation Report 1 — Operation Silver Strike, the international military mission to secure the nation of Pakistan:
Operation Silver Strike (OSS) is the U.S. military’s operational name for the international response and U.S. led coalition forces into Pakistan against FMPP. Made up of ground and airborne forces from India, Russia, Japan, South Korea, Indonesia, and the Philippines, the operation is primarily handled by American and Russian forces while the rest provide support of local allies such as the Pakistani armed forces and the Pakistani Joint Defense Forces (PJDF). Combat ground troops, those from the U.S. Army’s 1st Infantry Division, 10th Division, 3rd Armored Division, and amongst special forces and special operation forces, over 15,000 troops have been deployed.
Drawing from the previous UN-African conflict less than ten years ago, the U.S. has been primarily concerned with the stability of the middle east, primarily the protection of critical assets throughout the area. Along with the growing support of Afghanistan organizations, and the Afghanistan government providing monetary and physical aid to militant groups throughout the region, the Unites States added the FMPP to the international terrorist list. The primary response upheld by the coalition forces has been heavily criticized by the United Nations, and the UN Security Council has once more gathered to discuss possible retaliatory actions against the U.S. and Russia.