In a world like nothing before, I was amazed by the sight I was seeing. If I visited Germany, where the sun shines the brightest in a kingdom so big, I could have seen arches that go across towards the large castle in front. It was nothing compared to the palaces and forts I had seen being deployed overseas if I was transported into a fantasy world.
Closing my eyes, I breathed in deeply, savouring the air. It was refreshing, tinged with the scent of blooming flowers. If given the opportunity, I would prefer living in this world over the grim existence I called home. But as I indulged in this brief fantasy, my immersion was shattered by the sharp sound of a chirping bird. I opened my eyes to find myself stopping my armoured vehicle and surveying the downtown of Selmesera.
The roaring engines of a HEMTT M1120A4 rumbled as it slowly navigated the narrow stone road below. Its massive frame belched clouds of smoke, far too much for the tight confines of the streets. It was a marvel that the vehicle had managed to travel this far from the base where we were deployed. Onlookers and locals alike turned their heads, casting curious glances at the beast of a machine making its way through their city.
Selmesera, Capital of Elijah. Carlton Palace
September 13, 2021
| 2:52 PM | 0:14:52:00 | Hours.
The radio beside my driver began to chatter with static, and I continued to stare down at the headquarters battalion as they reached their needed position. I'm keeping an eye check with the rest of my platoon watches on the convoy. The radio crackled to life as Staff Sergeant Samuel Kenn's voice came through.
"Apostle 2-1, this is Staff Sergeant Kenn. Got orders from Captain Patterson; we have a briefing at 1500 hours. Over." –
James Lillian responded promptly, "Apostle 2-1 Actual, Roger that. Report confirmed. I'll see you at the tent. Out." –
The static of the radio from the other company remains. Quickly, as both my driver and I continued to glare towards the armoured vehicles, seeing the vastly different culture of cities with the sight of tan-coloured trucks roaming the street, my top MG Gunner couldn't help but laugh.
“Feels like we were deployed in Germany,” he muttered, having taken a second to be sure he was right. It feels like we are in Germany. The world seems so alike! But with plenty of wooden homes come the locals and the people of this new world; seeing the white-pointed elves makes it unbelievable. Alongside animals walking on their own two feet, acting like humans, truly this was something we humans back on earth, like if we were in a Tolkien story or a world of Warcraft itself, nerds if where to see would break down at the sight and I too thought I was too high dreaming of this world, but the events back at Golden Gate became history and the first to come is us, the United States Marine Corps, now appearing to bring upon influence from our country.
Being more bored out of his mind just staring at the convoy of armoured vehicles, he takes some time to turn his directions to the capital castle itself. The building itself was outrageously large; no castle back on earth has something like that and at the distance, it seemed like three clicks from here it would be far larger than the world record buildings built by modern technology and for people here being so primitive, he could only but be impressed as he turns to his driver.
“Gotta wonder what made these people manage to build a castle like that.” James muttered, “If we had something like that, God forbid, we could make something more wonderful than another bass pro shop.”
Lance Corporal Michael Wills didn't hear much of what Sergeant Peter James had to say, merely replying.
“I'm thinking about waffles and pussy” Corporal Michael Wills replied, “better than a black girl? Or white chicks. Either way, seeing these elves makes my hot rod want some of that action.”
His laugh was contagious, and I couldn’t help but chuckle—typical marine humour. Joining the Corps was a far cry from earning a degree at Harvard; out here, the only things on your mind were food and women. Taking aside the MG turret, Corporal Antonio Rodriguez gave his piece.
“You Southerners only think about food and pussy; thank God that Lt. Colonel Ross made it clear that white boys such as yourself don't get any bitches.”
“So-Sorry, Amigo! I'm CPL Rodriguez. I jumped the border, so I worked nine hours for fifty-four dollars!!” Lance CPL Michael Wills mockingly replied. “~Get the fuck outta here! Colonel Ross knew that we Marines would be tearing down the locals as our gift to them for liberating them. God, just thinking about it makes me want to try it out with that virgin staring in front of me.”
Facing the direction of Lance CPL Michael Wills. There was a fire team inside the Humvee vehicle. Hiding among the crowd, I could see a girl with blonde hair and skin on the sandy beaches of Hawaii with eyes as blue as the ocean of the Pacific. On top of the MG turret, I could hear CPL Rodriguez's cat whistle at the sight of the blonde elf.
“Quite the taste you got, but unlucky for you; I'll make sure she gets a bite of my burrito.”
“As if! She doesn't want some cholo; she prefers something more American. Not Mexican.”
“You tryna your back luck, son, mald that we cholos are hard-working and we need something to blow off this excess energy!”
Before further comments from Lance CPL Michael Wills could be made, he looked over his watch to see it being passed at 3:01. Being reminded by that earlier radio communication, shortly afterwards he got out of the Humvee, opening his front passenger's door and looking back at Michael Wills.
“How many cigarettes?” I chuckled without Michael Wills replying.
“For the whole trip.” afterwards I quickly left the vehicle, not before banging the door a few times before leaving my platoon towards the rapidly developing HQ within the heart of Selmesera, the capital of Elijah. Passing through the traffic of the logistic vehicles, barriers and sand border walls were being placed down, with locals watching as “bull made with steel” as the locals refer to our bulldozers making quick way on making a proper base.
Though not as large as the one back at Diamond Beach, this second base was still critical to our operations, and we were moving at a rapid pace to ensure the second phase went into motion smoothly. As I walked towards the main checkpoint, I noticed the village built around the newly established HQ. The cultural shock was immediate.
Bulldozers worked to clear space around the position, creating an exclusion zone. I saw MPs from the Army and some Marines maintaining a checkpoint and setting boundaries. The diversity of the locals was striking: dark-skinned humans, elves, and even anthropomorphic animals walked on their own two feet. It was the kind of thing that Lance CPL Michael Wills would joke about wanting to take to bed. I couldn’t help but wonder how folks back home would react to witnessing this new world.
Entering the checkpoint, the guard didn't care much as I went through with ease to see more progress being developed. Large containers converted into buildings were rapidly being placed down, with the largest having been finished. With the top commanders within our battalion station upon us, the Marines didn't care much. I could see other recon companies and even our tank company maintaining their M1 Abrams. The mismatch of tan and green on these vehicles showed the Marines making do with anything they had.
Armouring some of the Humvees to protect against "magic mages" and archers made it clear that even in a world of primitives, no country is invincible. As I scanned the area, I saw watchtowers, pillboxes, and bunkers dotting the landscape. Rows of armoured vehicles were parked at the centre—Humvees, M939s, and MTV 5-tonne 6x6s—all busy unloading and loading goods for the base.
I looked closely at some of the vehicles and saw a surplus of M16A2 rifles and other service weapons being unloaded from a truck. The sight reinforced the reality of our situation: adapting to this new world required both our advanced technology and an understanding that we still faced very real threats.
“What's with the firearms?” James asked, seeing the staff sergeant and simply replied.
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“Not for us, it's for the Elijahian army; they got permission to utilise some of our older surpluses; these primitives gotta know how to fire a rifle.”
At least we don't have them watch us do most of their dirty work. I walked away from the men as they continued like nothing was happening further down. As I reached the centre of the HQ, entering the large construction building, officers from different platoons and fireteams lined up, and a few waited for their battalion command to make it to begin the briefing.
Entering the HQ, I recognised a familiar face, and I gave a grin before I told him a small smirk of a joke.
“I thought your ass was discharged for that blunt role you played with the M4.”
Smiling, having remembered that memory prior, he said, “Not everyone is gifted to find ways to get out of the devil's cave.”
Captain Joseph Patterson, CO of Fox Company, stood out as a commanding presence. Unlike our previous captain, Patterson had proven to be far better suited for the role. His leadership was especially evident after that infamous birthday party incident, which could have easily ended in our discharge. Instead, Patterson’s handling of the situation kept us in the fight and even managed to earn some respect and camaraderie among the ranks. Now, as we stood in this new world, anticipation hung in the air.
“Good news is that Lt. Colonel Ross will be having the 5th Battalion deployed outside with more frontline work since they need some recon on the new region, better than sticking around and getting whatever STD and HIV because half of the guys want that ass of an elf. Better than doing cleaning duty.”
"Guessing you don't like doing the dirty work?" I chuckled.
"Very much so," Captain Joseph Patterson replied. "Plus, I'd rather be doing something useful than sticking around and watching half of our guys catch some crazy virus from these virgins. Not everyone gets deployed to a fantasy world where all you can think about is dungeons and dragons."
"I can see that. H&S has requested that we be deploying within 1700 hours to the eastern grid, right here." Captain Patterson pointed to a location on his field map, indicating a small town named "Ganyan," about forty miles away. It was quite the journey, but a relief considering our primary task was to assist these politicians in their war.
"You think the enemy is a threat in this new world?" I asked.
I smiled as Captain Patterson left with the rest of the officers from F Company. Moving further into the HQ, the heat was stifling, with the air conditioners not yet installed. The place was alive with the muttering and chattering of officers and NCOs discussing their next mission, making the so-called "small meeting" feel anything but. As I entered the conference room, I saw the rest of the 5th Battalion gathered. In the centre of the room sat Lieutenant Colonel Theodore Ross, microphone in hand. The officers were seated with clipboards filled with maps, briefing notes, and key figures for their respective platoons.
Just as the early smoke settled, Lt. Colonel Ross walked into the room. We all stood at ease as he entered, then quickly returned to our seats as he took his place. With a heavy sigh, he sat down, surveying the room with a pleased expression at the sight of the 2nd Battalion gathered.
"Got my ass handed to me in a briefing earlier," he began. "Shouldn’t have had to deal with General Douglas, but the good news is we're heading out. Forty mikes north for our first mission outside the castle."
Cheers erupted from the 2nd Battalion, thrilled to have landed the best mission so far. The room buzzed with officers speculating about the challenges ahead. But as the noise grew, Colonel Ross brought it back to order with a firm hand, ready to lay down the basics for what was to come.
"As some of you have heard, the Parliament of Elijah doesn't exactly trust us. They see us humans as a potential threat, mainly because the forces we're dealing with are also predominantly human. They wanted us on reserve duty, but General Douglas pushed back and got us a better position. Still, even in this new world, orders from the top are clear: no mingling with the locals, no getting distracted by what we see. This is a different frontier, and we're damn lucky to be here while half of the United States is still debating if this whole thing is real or a load of crap.
"Now, we're obligated to uphold the American way. I don't want to hear about any incidents that could tarnish our reputation. This isn't Baghdad, where shooting a kid might not make the evening news. Word spreads fast here—especially if those long-eared locals catch wind of us doing something stupid. If that happens, our reputation is toast. So, all officers here need to keep their men on a tight leash. We screw up, and it'll be our asses on the line."
It sounds very much like the early days after 9/11, back when the first waves of the Iraq invasion returned. I never expected the media to cover the things we grunts managed to do. I started to remember myself as a 17-year-old private during the war. An abusive household wasn’t the best upbringing, but it gave me the motivation to join the Marines.
The colonel’s words began to fade away as my mind wandered back to those days. I thought about the things I did and the choices that shaped me before all of this. My thoughts drifted to an endless stretch of vaporising desert, a dirt road that seemed to go on forever. In my daydream, I saw the remnants of a destroyed Iraqi tank. Standing beside it was a girl, holding a sword and shield, her golden hair glinting like sunlight in the wasteland.
I saw her—a woman of otherworldly beauty, an elf with golden hair that shimmered against the desolate backdrop. She turned to me, her lips moving in a whisper I couldn’t quite understand, but her murmurs felt like a portent of things to come. Before I could grasp the meaning of her words, my thoughts were jolted back to reality. Captain Patterson was shaking my shoulder, pulling me from the vision. As I returned to my senses, a sense of foreboding lingered, hinting that the future held something profound—something I wasn’t yet ready to face.
“Don't daydream; you're lucky that Hound didn't see your daydream.”
I snapped back to attention just as the Colonel shifted gears to something more intriguing. He pulled out his notes, and I could tell this was more than just a routine briefing.
"Alright, Gents," he began, "these so-called primitive nations. The real reason we’re deployed isn’t just to help these people—it’s about securing our future in this new world. Once we take down whatever big threat these long ears keep yammering about, the White House and Congress have big plans. They want us to clean houses out here, set up settlements, and see how these people adapt to the 21st century. Hell, the funding rolling in is through the roof. We’re talking about new weapons, new tech—the works."
He paused, scanning the room to make sure we were all dialled in. "But make no mistake, we’re under the microscope. The media's going to be all over this, watching every move we make. I don’t want to hear about any screw-ups. We gotta keep it clean and tight. We can't afford to look bad out here, not with the whole world watching."
"Do your job right, and we'll get something more beautiful than seeing those desert hills covered in bombs. Hell, maybe we’ll pull off an operation that doesn’t even need a single round fired. We’ve got a position here that neither the Russians nor the Chinese can touch, giving us a monopoly on this new world. And remember, it took five months of gruelling diplomatic talks for the U.S. to be the only country to get in. You guys are lucky—people would kill for a one-way ticket to this special region. So don’t mess it up. The rules are clear, and I expect you and your men to follow them."
As soon as the Colonel finished, the room erupted with a unified "Aye, sir!" Without missing a beat, he dismissed us, and the room instantly became a flurry of movement. I grabbed my clipboard and pen, slung my gear over my shoulder, and joined the rush of bodies trying to squeeze out of the briefing room, ready to move on to the next phase.
Having given it some thought, it makes sense why the U.S. was so eager to lend its assistance despite having no previous ties to this country. In less than five months, we managed to secure diplomatic relations strong enough for our armed forces to get involved. The Special Region itself, with all its untapped potential, has piqued the government’s interest, presenting opportunities that could potentially solve problems back home. It feels like we're being positioned for something bigger, something that could shape our future in ways we can’t fully comprehend yet.
As I moved past my fellow NCOs, the idea of Americans developing a country in this new world started to sound a lot like colonialism. In a world where left-leaning political views dominate back home, the optics of that are something I can't even begin to imagine. The U.S. is treading a fine line here. Technically, none of the UN’s policies or the Geneva Conventions apply, which could be seen as a dangerous loophole. It's a factor that’s both intriguing and concerning.
But despite this being my fifth deployment and the occasional pangs of anti-American sentiment, I know I have to focus on the bigger picture. The real challenge lies in whatever threat our battalion will face in this strange, new world. The politics and moral quandaries will have to take a backseat for now because, out here, it's about survival and doing our job right.
As I left the headquarters, I noticed the arrival of the 1st Tank Battalion, their M1A1 Abrams rolling into view. The trucks carrying them, bedded with Oshkosh M1070s, made quite the sight. The tanks themselves looked as rugged as ever, with mismatched olive and tan paint jobs, streaked with rust—a testament to how we Marines make do with what we’ve got. It almost felt like overkill, bringing these beasts into a world where the enemy likely doesn’t even know what a tank is.
A few Marines nearby exchanged looks, one of them laughing as he remarked, “We thought we retired these from service.” Another Marine shrugged, “At least we’ve got something.”
I didn’t have much to add to that. As far as I was concerned, we had the tools we needed, and that was good enough. I navigated through the traffic jam of vehicles and headed back to my squad on the northern side of town. Arriving with some of the guys, I noticed that it was mostly a small briefing. Checking the time, it was past three o'clock, as CPL Rodriguez's gave me something of an interest.
“Shit! Lieutenant, you shouldn't have heard earlier; we saw those elves with the biggest natural tits I have ever seen!”
“Yeah, man!” CPL Michael replied, “I wanted to show you her man! She looked like something every dude wants as their perfect girl!”
I chuckled, hearing the same old muttering from the guys. Nothing too interesting was happening at the moment. Behind me, I noticed Lance Corporal Daniel Evans, our SAW gunner, stirring awake from his slumber. As he blinked himself awake, he looked at the back of my neck and asked groggily,
“Anything interesting, Apostle?“ And I replied with the same thing that the colonel gave in the briefing.
"No mingling with the locals, and keep to yourselves," I said, making sure to emphasise the point. "The Colonel made it clear that I'm supposed to keep an eye on you guys; make sure you don't do anything stupid with these people. Trust me, even I’d like to get a piece of the action, but we can’t break protocol."
Corporal Michael, always the joker, mockingly looked at me and played an imaginary violin with a sarcastic “womp womp” before I turned back to face him.
"It's like that," I replied, keeping my tone firm. "They said the locals, so that means no mingling with anyone—not even the men." The words hung in the air, a reminder of the strict protocol we were bound by, but the unspoken frustrations lingered. This new world had its allure, sure, but it also had its constraints.
With nothing of interest happening, we settled in for the long wait. There were five hours to go before the battalion’s main mission kicked off. Supplies were still being unloaded, and it would take a while before everything could be transferred to the new frontline. Time dragged as we half-heartedly mocked each other, trying to stave off the boredom. There is no cell service and no real connection to anything outside our immediate surroundings. The lack of advanced satellites in this world made most of our high-tech gear pretty useless unless it was adapted or fixed on the fly.
It was strange to think that in a world where magic and swords reigned supreme, our biggest challenge wasn’t the enemy but the logistics of adapting to a place where the rules of modern warfare didn’t always apply. Our Humvees, dependable as they were, lacked the right equipment for a proper battle-ready state. GPS was spotty, communications were limited, and even our most basic operations felt more like a balancing act between what we knew and what we had to learn fast.
But we are Marines. Adapt and overcome, right? We’d make do like we always did. The battalion would find a way to get the maps we needed and the gear we lacked. We’d figure out how to make it all work, one way or another. That was the Marine Corps way—making the impossible happen with whatever you had on hand.