0300 HOURS.
WENDSDAY, 15 AUGUST 2106.
PESHAWAR, PAKISTAN.
SAR, Search-and-Rescue. Ambushes were not exhilarating to counterattack and recover from. Recovering dead allies and looking for survivors was the mission directly after the trap had been sprung near Karak. A MEDIVAC helicopter was called in and took almost ten minutes to arrive. Along with three others, Gunnery Sergeant Black was on a fast fly back to the nearest airfield where he would soon retrieve life-saving surgery and then be transported to India for further medical operations. Following the evacuation of all wounded, the Rangers now taking charge of the scattered Marines began to conduct SAR around the site as the checkpoint had all but collapsed in on itself. This went on for countless hours before the order to continue the mission was giver. Lieutenant 1st Class Macintosh took charge of his jarheads and was assigned a different mission to rendezvous with the 82nd Airborne and contain the western limits of the marked city that coalition forces were closing on.
For the limited time Mike and the others spent racing up to the city of Peshawar, the night sky shined high above. The starry skies were visible until they reached city limits where the bright lights of the city casted a wave of light pollution and hid the heavenly scenery from the hidden eyes of all the soldiers. They had long dismounted at least half a kilometer from their objective, and now they remained under the dead rage of the night. Mike was no stranger to the concept of operating in the dark. For as long as he knew, and as far as his training went, the United States owned the night for the longest time. Infrared sensors, night vision goggles, predator drones, and Infantry Unmanned Drones or IUDs. Each provided the average American soldier with the capabilities to accomplish any mission, any objective no matter the weather or time conditions. Being a Ranger granted Mike and his fellow soldiers’ authority to use these cutting-edge technologies.
Looking through the gentle blue overlay in his helmet, it was impossible to not see the darkened world around glow and not be proud at how far your home nation has come. Many found the visor system to be cumbersome and bulky but compared to previous generations the slim visor that was made from a multi-thread ballistic material was something that the sergeant admired. This sight, the gentle white-phosphor, provided a new perspective in the war-torn city.
Kneeling in shadow, the squadron of Rangers looked towards the sky. Seven lights shot from the ground and flew through the clouds high above. The vapor trail that followed what identified as ballistic missiles was barely visible due to the mixture of the city light and the dark sky, and soon the projectiles became unrecognizable as they arced down onto the far distant cityscape.
“Captain, Lieutenant Devlin, we have more rockets going over the city near our objective, break.” Andrew paused as he pulled up a map from his helmet and sent it over to the captain, “Recommend immediate recircle at point one-one-six.”
Using the command authority, Oliver pulled up the AO map and displayed it on the top-left of his platoon’s HUDs. The point that the lieutenant recommended regrouping at was near an apartment complex but was exposed by a large park. Instead of confirming the suggestion, the captain marked a secondary point that was just at an alleyway near a small intersection.
“Head to point one-zero-five. Do not engage any FMIP patrols.” The officer’s voice was crystal clear over the distant claps of gunfire and the thunderous booms of explosives.
“And the rockets?”
“Tag the location and let the demolition group assigned to them handle it.”
“Roger, on the move.” Cutting off his communications link, the lieutenant looked over his shoulder, “Simon, you’re point man.”
Without another word his six-man squadron rose from the ground and continued their way down the decrepit, abandoned streets that littered this residential sector of Peshawar. Mike was just in line behind PFC Jonah Simon. The younger twenty-year-old carried his rifle in the low ready and scanned every alleyway and window that lined the current pathway. Stepping over pieces of ruble, at times his boots made an audible ‘crunch’ against the dirtied and ruined sidewalks. He adjusted his line of path opting to find the course that create the least amount of noise. The mission directives had all but stated that they were to be ghosts within the city. Even though their job was to be an outer-cordon and isolate the southern block from hostile forces, this was a tall order that was provided by the General of the Army himself, Kennedy Adams. An undertaking like this was not to be taken lightly as the group slowly approached the intersection where Oliver’s squadron would be.
“Lieutenant Devlin, Technical Sergeant Baker here. I have you on my scope, proceed down the intersection and rendezvous with Specialist Xavier.”
Spotting a friendly-marked drone in the air watching his squadron silently, Andrew let out a light chuckle as he responded to the com-link that was suddenly opened. “Crossing now.” Moving to the side he nodded his head at the Rangers behind him, “Green, Simon, cover the sides. The rest of you move with me. Mike you’re on duty to bully the CCT.”
“Rog’, LT.”
As the PFC stepped to the side to watch the flanks, Mike lead the way with the rest of the squadron behind him. The USAF had been kind enough to donate five Combat Controllers to Task Force Spare and aid their mission within Pakistan. Though there was no bad blood between the branches, they did share their fair share of chagrin whenever the chance was available. Soon enough the squadron moved out of the open and into a desolate alleyway where they instantly spotted Captain Thompson’s squadron waiting behind the carcass of a bullet ridden sedan.
“A lot of burnt vehicles out there, captain,” Lieutenant Andrew said as he took a knee alongside Oliver. The rest of the platoon had separated along the permitter of the alleyway and took up positions of security. “Brief told us that there was some fighting in this district, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” He commented looking at a nearby wall coated in blast shadows and blood.
“Armed patrols are no doubt nearby. But if this is one of the sectors that the FMIP has ‘liberated’, then I would have imagined that there would be some sort of headquarters organizing the resistance near the center of the city.” Oliver surmised as he sorted through the tactical maps and other critical intelligence reports he had pulled from the Firebird satellite network.
“What about the reports of gunships operating within the area?”
“Haven’t spotted any yet, but don’t let that put your guard down. We need to keep moving. Malkovich, on point.”
Within the next four hours the sun would rise over Pakistan. By then the platoon would need to be in their position at the objective. Gathering into a respective formation that was appropriate for the twelve operators, they once more began their march through the darkened streets of the destroyed city. All set their sights upon the looted stores, destroyed vehicles, burnt buildings, and still bodies. Many of the sights reminded the older Rangers of what happened in 2098 during the campaign in Northern Africa. Seeing the Terran Imitative for the People of Africa (TIPA) stand against the then and still current authoritative UN was something that no one expected the United States to get in the middle of until Article 5 was initiated for the first time in recorded history. Caught in the crossfire of three factions, the third being the shaky grounds that China had with both the UN and TIPA, U.S. service members took over 300 thousand casualties and suffered over 100 dead over the course of the war. Only when the U.S. decided to back out of the UN and form a coalition with Russia, Japan, Australia, Poland, Turkey, and nine other East-Asian and Slavic nations did the war come to a dwindling close in 2108.
No less than four years earlier did the world know war. And here, once more did the nations of the world fear that Armageddon was just around the corner.
“We should get moving then, captain. Don’t want to come across one of those groups.”
“Yeah, Malkovich, you got point. Specialist Xavier, fall in behind us. Get me two staggered files.”
“Rog.” The two men said quietly.
Without another word said by the lieutenant, the twelve men rose from the ground and continued their way down the decrepit, abandoned streets that littered Peshawar. Mike was second in line, just behind PFC Simon. He kept his rifle in the low ready as he scanned each alleyway and narrow pathway through the Jacob tint of his night-vision goggles.
Stepping over pieces of rubble, his boots crunched against the dirtied sidewalk. He adjusted course and chose a way to walk that would create the least amount of noise; the others did much the same, choosing to find ways to walk only making a minimal amount of noise. Their gear was set tight against their bodies so that no noise would come from any loose object, and their weapons were held in place either by their hands or the firmly strapped-on single- and two-point slings.
It’s too quiet. Mike thought to himself as he reached an external doorway that would lead to the fourteen-story apartment building he and the others were directed to move to. Opening the door with his fellow riflemen on his back, the sergeant stepped into the desolate and silent streets under the cover of night, the moon illuminating the distant burning buildings that still held firefights within between Pakistani troops and FMPP separatists. Though with the advancements in technology, some of the darker areas throughout Peshawar were hidden by the field of view and light exposure that their goggles provided.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Approaching the side entrance to a main foyer at the building, Oliver moved alongside his fireteam as he said a single order, “Clear the main foyer.” He said as he fell behind Specialist Xavier. Fanning out and entering the building, the men moved in an orderly fashion as rifles were pointed at every corner, hidden and seen. They had run through simulations built by virtual reality and augmented reality, the Pakistani government was kind enough to provide building plans to many of the major targets throughout the major cities, something that CENTCOM and other high-end officers appreciated as it made the job of planning missions much more streamlined.
“Clear. Moving to emergency staircase.” Anthony spoke softly as he closed in on the door with Mike and Jacob.
“Check the alarm,” Andrew ordered as Oliver and his men regrouped.
Stepping aside and letting Jacob reach the alarm just at the top of the doorframe, Anthony and the rest waited anxiously as the tech wiz of the squadron did his magic and inspected the wire and motherboard of the security device.
“Fuck. Someone already cut it.” Jacob sharply whispered as he stood aside and allowed Mike to grab a hand on the door.
“That’s worrisome.” Malkovich grumbled as he stood ready.
“Up, go up.” Andrew quipped.
Opening the door, Private Jackson was the first to go up the narrow staircase. In any normal situation this was frowned upon, but the time for dramatic entrances was long off the table and was left to the spirit and ability of the Rangers to undertake their job and complete it without alerting the primary target. All others were fair game; thus, they would blow up the side of the building if a chance presented itself.
The building they were in was nothing more than a mere construction site. Only for the first eight floors did the Rangers have to tiredly clear each room, but beyond that the floors were barren with nothing in the way to stop their search. In a span of forty minutes did they clear each floor and reach the thirteenth floor which was to be used for their reconnaissance and cordoning mission. Entering what was to be a luxury apartment, Mike and the other eleven spread out and began to check every corner looking for places to set their gear. Tools were strung about the construction site, and building supplies were left around due to the project being abandoned during the initial hours of the mass hysteria that broke out thanks to protests and armed conflicts being widespread in Peshawar.
Clearing his designated area, Mike stood alone to the side of the large apartment. He let his rifle hang by it sling as he turned to look out the large window frames that were supposed to hold the glass panes. Behind him, Sergeant Malkovich let Conner set up his equipment as he walked over. “You should get some sleep Randall. Team two will take first watch for the night.”
A small smile crossed Mike’s lips as he turned off his goggles and turned towards the clean-shaven African American that had just spoke to him. “You sure?” He asked making sure he didn’t need to oversee Specialist Xavier and Jacob as they got to work deploying the drones that they were to work with alongside other observation devices.
A shallow thunder came from the other side of the city making the men look at the smoke pillar emerging from a high-rise building.
“I said what I said.” Malkovich coughed as he patted Mike on the shoulder, “I know more about the techno-lingo than you do anyways. Captain said you look like shit too.”
Watching Malkovich wander off, Mike let out a sigh as he moved away from the windows and walked towards the staircase where no one was. He removed his assault pack and placed it on the ground next to him as he took a seat against the hard wall. He opted to sleep here as his mind drifted off to God knows where. As he thought of the last of his family, he embraced the darkness as he fell into sleep within seven seconds.
0657 HOURS.
WEDNESDAY, 15 AUGUST 2106.
“That’s to the southwest, correct?”
Awakening to an echoey voice, Mike awakened in the same stairwell he had fallen asleep in three times over the past seven hours. He had been on watch two times. As he stood up and shouldered his assault pack, he walked into the main lounge room with the morning sun shining upon the burnt city of Peshawar. Smoke in the distance billowed from several buildings, and the morning air strikes on hard targets were soon to be carried out by the air force.
“Yeah. Five of them approaching the coffee shop.”
Hearing Lieutenant Andrew’s voice, Mike slowly stepped towards the group of four men overlooking the target building. Captain Oliver looked behind him nodded and mouthed the words, “You awake?”, in which he gained a subtle nod from the sergeant who removed his pair of binoculars and removed his goggles. The men on observation, Oliver, Andrew, Jacob, and Xavier, had the previous hours of the night finally catch up to them as the sowed minor symptoms of fatigue. Corporal Ramirez no doubt reminded them of their health, but his words would only go so far as long as the mission was still in motion.
“Someone want to tell me why we are watching these five? I swear we’ve seen other insurgents in the area.” Xavier voice his complaint as he did another sweep with his drone high in the sky.
“From what I understand these five were responsible for the weapons that were used in the Los Angeles attack,” Oliver began, “DIA and FBI had their eyes on these guys while they were in Mexico and Cuba, but beyond that I can’t say anything more as I don’t know the specifics.”
“So, smugglers?” Mike chuckled, “I guess dealing with them now would be more convenient than getting involved with Mexico and Cuba. Wouldn’t want to get caught in that mess.”
The captain smirked, “You might be right.”
“Cap got eyes on the strike team. Two little-birds and a Blackhawk.”
Oliver activated his radio as he responded to Conner, “Rog. Malkovich, Anthony, get into position on the stairwell. Baker, get set over here in case we need to lay down some support fire. I want all guns pointed in every direction.”
Stepping from where they were along the edge of the windows, the men swiftly moved into their positions, with the remaining Rangers packing their observation gear that had been in use for the last seven hours. Mike remained in place and in silence. He had packed away his binoculars and placed down his ballistic goggles. With a push of a button the augmented reality HUD was displayed before him as gunshots erupted close by.
Masking the sound of the gunshots, the “claps” of three helicopter rotors closed in rapidly alerting the men that the strike team was closing in on the target building. Turning his head, the sergeant watched as two MH-6LS insertion aircrafts and a single UH-60S medium lift stealth helicopter fly past the apartment building and towards the streets below. The two MH-6LS helicopters landed on the street just outside of the target building, and the Blackhawk hovered nearby as a Pakistani SSG squadron dismounted and pooled out to secure an inner cordon.
In total, sixteen Delta Force operators, including Chief Warrant Officer Eric Briner, moved up and spilt into two groups as one took the second floor and the other took the first floor. One of the men stepped in front of a doorway and placed a plastic C2 charge, and the rest prepared to breach the building.
Within seconds a dust cloud emerged from where the explosives were laid, and the thunderous boom followed immediately. The operators stormed into the building and an erratic tempo of gunfire emerged. “Eyes on Brutus! I say again, eyes on Brutus!” The radio chatter of the operators played over the gunfire as CENTCOM pushed the situation and a video feed straight to the Rangers.
“On the left Wilson!”
“Fuck! He’s down!”
“Stay on him!”
Beside him, Specialist Xavier shared the feed of his drone. The five men spotted earlier were hurriedly walking down a street close to the apartment building the Rangers were in. Mike tensed at the video feed as he turned to look at the two Rangers assigned to secure the stairwell and elevator deck. “Captain, the five we spotted just blew past the target building and are heading our way.”
“Direction?”
“Heading south.”
“Are we compromised?” Mike inquired looking towards the specialist’s tablet.
“Overlord, Bravo two-six. We have eyes on five hostiles heading south towards our position, relay to SSG, over.”
A crackle came from the radio, “Acknowledged, relaying to Pakistani forces.”
As the gunfire continued to be exchanged below, Technical Sergeant Baker moved to the side as he surveyed the surrounding area. The helicopters that would be on standby were hovering ten kilometers outside of city limits due to active bombing missions in the area of operations. Along with the missions to level parts of the city, the enemy had been confirmed to be in possession of anti-air weaponry.
“Shit man, how many people are packed inside of that building?” Andrew asked to no one.
“If it’s the big bad honcho, perhaps up to fifteen. All trained guns.” Mike responded gaining a hum in return.
“Jet, move it up! We have wounded!”
“Aye!”
“Bomber! Suicide bomber!”
“What—”
Sending a plume of dust out all the windows and creating a crater in the center of the building below, the explosion tore a hole and sent heavy debris and shrapnel onto the SSG operators below crushing and cutting some to pieces. Gunfire was now exchanged in the street as the remnants of the inner-cordon team found themselves under attack by insurgents that flooded the streets.
“Holy shit.” Simon whispered.
“Everyone, pack your gear! Get prepped to move!” Oliver bellowed as he stood up and turned towards the stairwell. As his squadron moved to pack the rest of their gear, he grasped his radio, “Grimm one-two, Bravo two-six. What’s your status?” He received no response. “All Grimm units give me a sitrep, over!”
Cussing to himself, Oliver moved to his next option, “Overlord, Bravo two-six. Grimm is out of action and we’re moving down to assist friendlies!”
His frustration grew as he kicked the ground realizing that both Grimm platoon and CENTCOM had not answered him. He repeated his messages over-and-over trying to get someone to answer, and eventually his attention as drawn to Technical Sergeant Baker who was frantically swiping and typing on his tablet that was supposed to be connected to the entire Air Operations Command (AIROPCOM).
“Technical Sergeant!” He barked.
“Fuck! Fuck! I can’t get a line to any aircraft!” Baker cussed as he put away his tablet.
“They just fry our communications?” Sergeant Malkovich asked making everyone in the room freeze.
“An EMP?” Andrew followed up with a pale look on his face.
“Fuck! Get down the stairs, check your gear on the decent!”
Mike led the decent down the staircase, the rest of the men flooded the staircase behind him. He narrowed his eyes as he looked through his working holographic display in the medium-ranged scope sitting atop his M-5.
Publicly Available Information: Combat Controllers (CCT)—The all-seeing eye:
The United States Air Force is the largest air force in the world, and when a combat zone is thick with air traffic, someone has to coordinate it all. Air force combat controllers (CCT) operate in hostile territory as air traffic controllers, and that means they need to insert unnoticed, coordinate local aerial forces and be ready for potential contact with enemy combatants.
According to the Air Force Special Operations Command website, "Combat Controllers are trained forces and certified FAA air traffic controllers. Their mission is to deploy, undetected, into combat and hostile environments to establish assault zones or airfields, while simultaneously conducting air traffic control, fire support, command and control, direct action, counterterrorism, foreign internal defense, humanitarian assistance and special reconnaissance."