Taylor had spent a month in basic training before being sent into the trenches of the “Green Zone” in what used to be northern Arbil in Iraq, now renamed Al-Kaziir. He pushed to be an engineer with his prominent skills with a wrench and mechanical incline however, his colonel deemed it necessary to stick him in a combat unit do to his physique. Even he had to admit his ability to gracefully wield a light machine gun was useful to say the least. Regardless, he should have counted himself lucky. He was stuck in the mild desert climate instead of the frozen tundra in Russia where the Federation staged most of their efforts. Historically, Russia was one of the hardest countries to invade. Over seven times, someone attempted to invade and conquer the massive territory and every time the invaders were pushed out. It was no surprise that the CoU made it their stronghold and even respected it enough to keep its original name. So instead of battling the bulk of the enemy forces as well as the hellish cold, he was dug into a trench near the eastern border of the desert country that held at a persistent temperature of upper 80’s during the day and 50’s during the night. So it could have been far worse.
Currently, he sat in an armored pill box contemplating his life. It took only a day for his life to completely change; to be dragged away from his loving parents, stable job that he had spent years earning, and the love of his life who was also pulled into this life of destruction and impending doom. Morrigan. He wondered how she faired. With the few chances he had, he searched for her while at boot camp. All of the magic-less were grouped together when they arrived in Colorado Springs while the mage kids who were either conscripted or had signed up were shipped off further south to some facility specially designed for their training Federation mages. The issue was that Morrigan never made her presence known which was worrisome. He knew his girlfriend better than to think she would be even remotely complacent when it came to the military. Any recruit he asked had either not seen her or not heard of her before. What was more aggravating was that any formal request for information was always denied as well.
It made him wonder if she had gotten herself in trouble and was possibly in a court martial; it would not surprise him. If that were the case though, why would the military refuse to inform him. He had even gone through the length of sending letters home to his parents with seeded hints of asking the Clarkes if they knew anything. Much to his disappointment and curiosity, he never received a response from his parents, he found that suspicious as well.
By his second week his hopes for answers were diminished and he sought to focus on training since it would help him stay alive. That did not mean she left his mind though. His thoughts of her was what pushed him through the day. He knew deep down where ever she was, she was putting up a fight and not giving up which meant he would not either. At some point he would find her again, if not in the military then after their four year requirement was over. That was the only good thing about their situation was that conscripts were only demanded four years of their life and were allowed to walk away if they chose after the fact, assuming they lived that long. That was Taylor’s goal now.
His thoughts turned towards himself now. He found he did not mind the combat life, at least in the sense that he was good at it. Sure, he was not fond of taking orders from some desk jockey over a thousand miles away, often leading him towards death, but the physical aspect of military life was up his alley and being able to dissect and work on field equipment and guns often helped put his mind at ease. Killing other Terrans and the occasional Eskarii that sided with the CoU bothered him immensely but in the end he knew it was either him or them. The upside to that argument was that he had a squad of grunts he cared little for to use as shields and more often than not, he had the bigger and faster gun. The down side of course was the waste of human life. Despite being glad he was alive, he often silently mourned those that would be or had been slain next to him.
His mind was pulled back to reality by one of his squad. Taylor rarely made an effort to remember their names. In all the skirmishes he had fought in, the majority of whatever squad he was in, foolishly rushed to their deaths and left enough alive to require replacement marines instead of disbanding his squad and simply reassigning him. “The sarge wants to see you,” the marine said before walking back over to a table where the others casually played cards and idly talked about meaningless things. Taylor grabbed his belt fed machine gun and lifted it up to rest on his shoulder as he strode from the view port of the pill box built into a mound of sandy dirt and entered the expanse of trenches that bore through the hillside over looking the “Green Zone”. The “Green Zone” was a strip of no-man’s land that segregated the controlled territories of the CoU and the Federation. On the Federation side was a modest hill that has been dug in and entrenched as a defensive position as well as a staging ground for assault with hidden armor on the other side as well as long range artillery that had arrived the other day. On the CoU side of the no-man’s land was a desert cityscape of hybrid stone and metal reinforced buildings with innumerable angles to repel attackers. That was as far as the Federation’s intel could gleam at least.
Taylor casually walked while others rushed past him in a hurry which drew his attention. Looking around he watched runners and suppliers scrambling with more energy than usual. There was a curious energy in the air and seeing as there had been heavy artillery delivered, he was sure there was a plan in motion. Despite the scrambled energy, Taylor was in no hurry to meet with Sergeant Arden. He was the only person whose name he remembered because he was the commanding officer for his squad. The man was a complete bastard and frankly Taylor hated him, but the chain of command was the chain of command.
He entered into an underground command room that was filled wall to wall with intel operators and coordinators while the a good number of sergeants stood around a massive war table reading reports with their respective second lieutenants and a captain at the head of the table. Taylor glanced around as operators shuffled around paper and spoke of various pieces of intel while coordinators barked orders of distribution. It was a chaotic mess that he could barely understand, which made him wonder how much of the intel could actually be accurate. The weird part of the whole excursion was that every single commanding officer stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Minding where he was, he dropped the butt of the gun into the dirt while holding onto the barrel and saluting sharply at attention with his left hand. “At ease son,” called one of the men, unsure which one it was.
“You're late Specialist Briggs!” droned in a deep, gravely voice that came from Arden.
“Give the boy a rest Arden,” said one of the second lieutenants. Arden could only scowl.
Taylor was not sure what to say as he stood there like a statue. He had never been at a meeting with so many superior officers and did not want to make a fool of himself.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” continued the lieutenant, “though this isn’t a courtesy call, there is good news. First and foremost, you're being promoted to Lance Corporal.”
That was a surprise for Taylor. Technically Specialist was the highest rank he could earn in such a short amount of time with no further training especially officer training. His look must have given away his surprise as a couple of the senior men chuckled.
Another spoke up to this, “it is unusual yes but you are something that we like to call a model marine. Who has outdone himself in more ways than necessary and has shown profound skill in the field.”
Taylor furrowed his brow trying to recollect everything he had done during his four months of active duty. Aside from being skilled in heavy weaponry and knowing his way around nearly anything with an engine, he could not think of anything special he had done.
Arden growled, “he means you’re the only one from our original squad to be lucky enough to survive aside from myself and I need a second in command seeing as the entirety of our squad now consists of newly trained privates, that title falls to you. So congrats and all.”
Taylor smirked before hauling the machine gun back onto his shoulder in casual fashion. “Well aren’t I lucky?” he muttered.
“Mind your tongue Briggs!” Arden snapped. However, despite Arden’s general abrasive personality Taylor’s underhanded comment caused a lot of the senior officers to snicker and chuckle. It seemed that the higher command was a lot more relaxed than his direct superior which was refreshing to Taylor. “Your transponder has already been updated with your new rank and your new call sign is “War-wolf 42 actual”. Now for the better news.” Taylor stepped closer to the table as the officers made room. Arden waved his hand over the table and a virtual topographical, three dimensional map of the surrounding area came alive. “Shortly we will be pushing forward across the “Green Zone” starting with a spearhead from our armored division.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Impressively, the map generated virtual tanks and armored vehicles on the map that crested over the hill and headed towards the opposing side. On the enemy side, a virtual squadron of fighters appeared. “We expect CoU fighters to attempt to intercept our forces in the middle of the “Green Zone” which is why we have our own detachment of fighters ready to counter attack.” With his words, friendly air units appeared and moved ahead of the armored division to intercept the enemy fighters. “Next is where we come in. Once the armored division makes their push, the majority of our ground forces will advance with quick deployment vehicles and enter the city of Bah'Singh. As far as we can tell the paths between buildings are a tight fit, which is why we are using QDV’s instead our normal AAV's.”
He pointed to two buildings on the map. “Our first target is a supply depot. Sources say it is a heavily fortified warehouse that holds a good amount of the CoU’s ordinance. Once inside you’ll toss inside one of these transmitters.” Arden held up a capsule that had two thick tread-like rings on each end. “To use, twist each end counter clockwise and throw. The rings here secrete a highly adhesive material so please for the love of god do not stick it to yourself.” Taylor responded with a deadpan glare that held no amusement. “Once set you’ll have 120 seconds to get the fuck out and as far away as possible before three Shatter rounds come in and turn the area into gravel.”
That piqued Taylor’s interest. “Shatter rounds sir?”
Several officers nodded as Arden explained, “tungsten tipped thermo-reactive high explosive artillery shells. They have a payload that'll shatter the heaviest of armor like its glass. Three will demolish nearly any building they come in contact with along with what ever is in it.”
Thoroughly impressed, Taylor nodded. “Now, your second target is a Comm Center located six blocks southeast.”
Taylor had a thought, “if we have these shells, why don’t we just level the entire city and be done with this standoff?”
Arden looked like he wanted to ream him out however, one captain chuckled which cut him off. “I appreciate your enthusiasm Lance Corporal, but we have a limited supply though. We were lucky enough to commission what we have which is why we need precision in these strikes.”
“And I’m going to assume laser designating is out of the question?” Taylor asked.
The captain replied to this, “we tried that, however the “Green Zone” is roughly ten miles wide and the targets are too deep to get a clear line of sight on the ground. Air designation is out of the question as well. The CoU has an unhealthy amount of anti-air throughout the city especially around their key structures.” Taylor pursed his lips and nodded. The idea of rushing into enemy territory that was so well defended was unpleasant. It felt more like a suicide mission than a thoroughly thought out operation. He honestly would not have doubted it if that was Sergeant Arden’s whole plan. However, it would have been a captain’s plan if not above him.
“So when do we start?” Taylor inquired. His question was answered before anyone could speak as the dust and dirt shook from the walls and ceiling as their entire world shook violently.
“What the fuck was that?!” Arden shouted as he righted himself with the war table. One of the operators turned as he listened to his headset.
“CoU bombers coming from the north!”
A series of expletives came from everyone above his own rank as Arden grabbed a case and tossed it at Taylor. “Get the squad and move out double time!” Taylor caught the case in his free arm and nodded before letting it drop into his hand as he rushed out of the underground room.
A full squadron of CoU bombers raced across the sky unceremoniously deploying bombs where ever they felt necessary. By the time Taylor made it half way to the pillbox his squad was stationed in, the armored division began rolling out and the enemy squadron began circling back for another bombing run. Taylor was lucky on two accounts. One being that the trenches were deep enough to not have to worry about an armored truck or tank would not take his head off as they jumped over or rolled over the trenches. Two, was that a tank stopped right above him and took a direct hit from the bomb that would have ended his life right then and there.
The air was forced out of his lungs and the concussive force blast made Taylor’s bones ache, but he was still alive. Thankfully, he had his headgear on and the active sound suppression system was working otherwise he would have gone deaf as well. Taylor looked back at the tank and took in its wasted destruction. The turret barely existed anymore and the main body of the tank was split open like a large, blooming, and flaming flower of twisted metal. He heard no cries of pain from inside and deemed the crew already dead which was probably better than him trying to pull them out. Taylor had many skills but first aid was definitely not one of them.
He pushed himself off the ground and made for the pillbox again while Federation fighters finally made their move at taking out the bombers. The Federation’s defensive line was chaos as marines were dug out of collapsed tunnels or collecting the unlucky few who were killed by the raid all the while operations suppliers were working double time to prepare the assault. To his dismay, Taylor made it to the pillbox his squad was stationed at least, what remained of it. Most of the structure still stood but the roof had been hit nearly dead center and the resulting impact tore through the ceiling and eviscerated everything inside including his men. Each of them were peppered with stone, steel shrapnel and burnt to some degree. He found all of their equipment, as well as his own spare supplies, strewn across the floor and walls as he walked through the mess. “Damn,” was the only thing he could say before grabbing the mic of his transponder. “War-wolf 42 actual this is War-wolf 42, the squad has been KIA.”
Static burst over the speaker of his headgear before Arden’s voice came through, “seriously? God damn it.” There was a thoughtful pause so Taylor nudged things around amongst the debris with his boot. Whether he was hoping to find something salvageable or not he did not know. “Alright Briggs, the mission is still a go. Do you still have the transmitters?”
Taylor swore to himself before he clicked the transponder, “yes sir.”
“Good, then grab what you need and hitch a ride with one of the QDV’s. Your mission remains the same.”
That irritated Taylor to no end. How was he supposed to infiltrate the enemy town, locate two buildings, deposit the transmitters and stay alive surrounded by the enemy? “I wouldn’t doubt it if the bastard was trying to get me killed on this suicide mission,” he grumbled as he nudged a larger piece of stone. To his delight what lay underneath the stone was not damaged beyond use. He knelt to pick it up as the sound of Federation fighter’s missiles screamed overhead, hunting their prey in the air. It happened to be a spare box of ammo for his rifle which he tucked into a slot on his hip. He felt better about his mission knowing he had more ammo though he would have preferred more, but adding an additional drum to his reserves gave him an additional 125 rounds which was certainly better than nothing. He inspected what he had then headed to the staging ground.
The staging area was on the opposite side of the hill from where Taylor was, meaning he had to go over the hill completely exposed in order to find a vehicle. Thankfully the bombers had either fled or had been shot down given the various plumes of smoke rising from the “Green Zone”. He also blessed the fact that long range ballistics had not advanced past the length of two to three miles even with the development of photon laser rifles or PLRs as the Federation liked to call them. So worrying about sharpshooters was not on Taylor’s to-do list just yet. The scene of the staging area was chaos with marines scrambling to get their equipment and shove themselves into their vehicles as the rest of the armored division began moving out. What drew Taylor’s attention the most was the three artillery units that began removing the field camouflage from the artillery cannons. They were massive tanks nearly 45 feet long and half as much wide with four stabilizing arms that began to drill into the ground. The awe-inspiring gun on the machine was a 140mm, 50 foot barrel, all three slowly raising into position. Taylor wished he had been assigned to one of those behemoths rather than a combat unit. At the reminder of his duty, he jerked his head around in search of a vehicle. It took a moment to realize several QDVs were in pieces while a main battle tank was a smoking ruin which is why squads were piling on top of each other in working QDVs. Taylor hailed the closest one vehicles as it began to take off but the driver ignored him. It took several tries before he found a driver that bothered to give him a second glance. That did not stop the driver from opening the door to tell him the truck was full. “That’s fine I’ll get on the back!” Taylor declared.
The marine looked at him like he grew a second head before shaking his own, “whatever, get on and hold on!” Taylor nodded as he strapped his rifle over his chest, moving around the back and taking a step onto the bumper. What he was attempting was rather insane which explained the disbelief from the driver. As he grabbed the rail that was bolted to the edge of the roof he slammed his hand on the side and held on for dear life as the QDV’s tires spun freely. Taylor was beginning to question his decision as the vehicle jumped over the soft incline of the hill, the shocks of the lightly armored truck threatening to throw him off as the driver stabilized the vehicle before flooring it down the hill.