"Beginning of Recording"
*Beep* *Beep*
"Shit, how do I even know it's recording, Ramirez?" said the woman facing the lens.
"The red light is on, dingus," Ramirez chuckled.
September 2nd, 2065: New Helsinki, Finland.
"Say hi to the camera, boys," she said. "Ahhh, look at all of you guys."
"Is this for a movie, Gertrude?" laughed a man standing next to Ramirez.
"I'm recording everything now," she answered. "It'll be great."
On a warm summer evening. Kat Gertrude, a Private First Class, and her fellow Marines were based in New Helsinki. The United Summit Coalition finally regained the city following months of fighting. The New Helsinki Offensive was long, exhausting, and miserable. Still, the Marines, Airmen, and Army all did their share. With the United Summit Coalition losing approximately 14,000 military personnel in all. About 8,000 troops lost their lives at the Battle of New Helsinki, making up the bulk of the military's casualties. Honor was due to every courageous man and woman who participated and sacrificed their lives. On the 62nd day of the Battle of New Helsinki, Kat Gertrude and her platoon entered the fray. Although they did not witness much fighting, they nevertheless contributed. They joked around while waiting for orders as they sat in a partially demolished cafe. They proudly wore the insignia of the 5th Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment.
"Staff Sergeant!" screamed a young Marine. "Upcoming orders."
Staff Sergeant Ricky Palermo had taken command of the platoon because their second lieutenant had gone MIA. Although he was young, Staff Sergeant Ricky Palermo had already gained the trust of everyone he watched over. He had commanding experience and already knew what was best for his Marines.
"Hey Baby," said Kat Gertrude. "Say hi to the camera."
"What's this for?" he asked. He was a member of the weapons company and was carrying a machine gun over his shoulder. His name was Cole Marsh, and his rank was private. At the age of eighteen, he was smaller than the average male. At 5'6", he went by the moniker "Baby." His voice was high-pitched, he had tannish-white skin, and he was surprisingly very strong for his appearance.
"I'm documenting everything," she said as she itched her short brown hair.
"Alright," he shrugged. Private Cole Marsh was originally from Canberra, Australia. He moved, at the age of 12, to Southern California and went to school there. Now, he's fighting for the North American Sector of the USC. He volunteered to enlist in the Marines, which made his parents shun him entirely. Everyone loves Private Cole Marsh, to which the nickname, Baby, also contributes. "What do I say?"
"Anything," Kat chuckled.
"Alright," he said, clearing his throat. "Hello world, I am Private Cole Marsh, and after this war is over, I want to be a chef."
"Oh, a chef!" Kat smiled. "Where at?"
"Somewhere in Paris," he laughed. "Somewhere nice, where I can grow old and marry a French girl."
"How about that, Baby," laughed Ramirez. "You, why don't you cook for us? I'm tired of these stale MREs."
The three of them laughed before rallying for their next objective. Kat prepared her camera to film Captain Shinji Takizawa delivering his speech to the entire company as well as those from the weapons company. She recorded his emotions while talking to everyone. Holding the camera a little higher, she could see people in the background wandering around, setting things up while the captain delivered the message. Tanks and other armored vehicles were rolling by. Behind the vehicles were soldiers clothed in bright green camo, indicating that they were from the USC's European armored divisions. Captain Takizawa turned to see the armored vehicles and tanks roaring loudly beside them. "So there's our armor; they'll help us a bit."
He stood on a wooden deck with other officers behind him. To his right were Staff Sergeant Ricky Palermo and Sergeant Rashad Simmons. These two would be leading the platoon that Kat Gertrude was in. Their replacement platoon commander wouldn't be there until they reached their next objective. Staff Sergeant Palermo was given the rundown on their next objective, which would be progressing outward toward the airport. Their campaign to retake Finland would start with conquering the north. The USC Navy and the 202nd Airborne were already in full force. The European Sector's 12th Shock Regiment and 4th Rifle Regiment were alongside them. This was a sandwich tactic being used all over the world. Some have failed, others have succeeded, and the rest are in the works.
"Let us pray," Captain Takizawa said. The camera panned to the left and right. Kat quickly recognized that she and the many others in her unit who hadn't seen much action would soon understand why this conflict had killed millions of people.
"Lord, won't you hear my prayer and protect these fine men and women here today," he continued. "As they embark on a journey, once again, to free our planet. Please give our Marines the angels they need to protect them along the way. As we are here with you, oh Lord, please bestow your hands on us as we travel deeper into enemy territory. Allow us to destroy Satan's soldiers with you watching over us. In Jesus name, amen."
"Amen!" everyone screamed.
"Alright, let's move!" screamed Captain Takizawa.
"Oorah!" screamed the Marines. They were hyped and ready for the tough journey ahead.
They set off, following tanks and armored vehicles from the 3rd Armoured Garde. Along with the 94th Western Airborne. The 94th Western Airborne was an established division. Most of them, who had experienced combat, were aware of who these invaders were. They spoke to the press and were quickly silenced after a Belgian named Timothy Dominix, from the 94th Western Airborne, mentioned finding remnants of a stable community in invader-controlled cities. Everything in that collection of media was swiftly wiped. Now they keep their mouths shut, but they still hope to retake the planet.
Kat adjusted the camera on her helmet. She held her rifle slanted, walking behind Baby and Ramirez. To her left was Corpsman Henry Nagelsmann from Indianapolis, Indiana. He was a chill, upbeat guy. He and Sergeant Rashad Simmons are hometown best friends. Behind Corpsman Nagelsmann were two other corpsmen, whose last names were Dire and Hancock.
Walking past the city checkpoint, a row of soldiers came walking by. All battered, bruised, and traumatized.
"Jesus, what the fuck happened up there?" asked a man behind Kat. His name was Private Spencer Frosette. He was a tall, light-skinned man carrying an upgraded javelin launcher over his shoulder. He, along with many Marines in his platoon, barely saw combat. Watching the many soldiers walk past him, many on stretchers, and the bodies piled on each other in small trucks, caused him to vomit.
"Easy, private," said Corpsman Nagelsmann.
The soldiers patted the Marines on the back, giving them all their accessories, from cigarettes and newspaper magazines to extra ammo for anyone using the same modeled weapon. The trucks of the dead kept coming, and soon after, soldiers were carrying covered-up bodies on stretchers. Ahead of them was a wasteland of destroyed buildings and open land. The Helsinki before and the Helsinki now looked as if it were wiped off the map. The sky was dark, as the sun was nowhere to be seen. Storm clouds rolled in, and cold winds swiftly entered the air.
Everyone was on edge after seeing what had just unfolded. As they walked deeper into the wasteland, gunfire could be heard. The tanks hummed and roared as they veered off the dirt trail that was once a road. Once they met up with other Marines, they entered the point of no return. The point of no return was a saying that had spread throughout the whole regiment. It was said that once you go in, you'll be lucky to get out alive and/or unscathed.
Stolen novel; please report.
"Is the camera rolling?" asked Baby, who was still walking ahead of Kat and not turning around.
"She still is," Kat chuckled. She had a nervous hiccup as they made their way to the first trench of many.
[Chapter Nine: The Story Begins]
"Set up everything!" screamed a man who had mud and dirt all over him. "If it rains and shit gets messed up, it's on you!"
"Give me a hand, Gertude," asked Ramirez. They ran toward the second trench as the sound of gunfire cracked one at a time.
"It's fucking trench warfare here," she muttered.
"Yeah, didn't you hear?" Ramirez stated. "It's just like no man's land."
"Artillery!" screamed a Marine from afar.
"How?" screamed another. "We've got the trench ahead of us."
The screams of Marines and other soldiers echoed through the air as they retreated back to the second trench. With that, there was an explosion that sent eardrums running out of the ears of everyone in the second trench. Kat hoped that the camera was still rolling as she witnessed hundreds of people rush toward her as another explosion rocked the land in front of them.
Some Marines landed on top of equipment as they held themselves.
"The fuck happened?" screamed a gunnery sergeant who had made his way toward the center of the trench. "Why the fuck did you all run back?"
Silence swept the battlefield as rain started to pour. The Marines that had retreated couldn't talk. It was as if their tongues were cut off.
"Shit," sighed the gunnery sergeant. He was an older man, and the wrinkles on his face show it.
"Look at him," muttered Ramirez. "Just a fucking kid."
A young boy from the USC's European Sector clutched himself in what had become mud. He had a shiny brown face, and his eyes were slowly closing.
"Has he been hit?" questioned Ramirez. "Corpsman!"
Corpsmen were like angels to the Marines. These guys were medics, and sometimes combat medics, tasked with keeping everyone from sustaining mortal injuries. Before, Corpsman was a mere 20-week course. But now, the combat medics that were running everywhere, treating people with wounds, were part of a special operations unit.
Corpsman Hancock was rushing toward the wounded boy.
"I can't see where his wounds are," he uttered frantically.
"Did you check his ass?" asked Private Frosette.
Corpsman Hancock checked his bottom, even if everyone around him was chuckling. His right cheek had red markings, but nothing out of the ordinary. That was until a split second later, when it exploded, vaporizing the bottom half of the boy's body and sending blood and internal organs to the faces of everyone around.
"Fuck!" screamed Frosette. "Holy shit!"
Vomiting ensued as other Marines witnessed what had happened.
"What the fuck was that?" Kat coughed.
"Shit," said Corpsman Hancock.
"Doc?" asked Ramirez.
"I don't know," he sighed, frustrated by what happened. "Just a fucking kid, man."
A small glimpse of what was to come was shone on a few Marines and soldiers who witnessed what had happened.
"Wrap him up!" screamed Staff Sergeant Palermo. "If you don't like what you see, don't look over these trenches, and yah should've stayed home!"
The cleanup wasn't nice. The day was uneventful, too. A plan had to be made since they lost the third trench. With that came night and the sudden silence of the night sky, which was covered with clouds. Sitting on the muddy ground, Kat watched the footage that she captured on her camera. Next to her were Private Frosette, Private First Class Ramirez, Corporal Klamala, and Private Gregory.
"Shit, you really captured it?" Klamala laughed. "That's disgusting."
"Swear, I'd shoot myself if any of that got in my mouth," choked Gregory.
*ssfhhhh* *Phfooom*
"Why's it so bright?" asked Corporal Klamala.
*Crunch*
"You fuckers!" screamed a Marine. *Dfm Dfm Dfm* A machine gun stationed nearby let out a cry as it sprayed ahead. Looking up from the trenches, numerous individuals stopped in their tracks, surprising the Marines in the trenches.
"Contact!" screamed several Marines and other soldiers in the trench. Each person was messing up their bearings. Kat grabbed her rifle as she witnessed someone stop and then start rushing toward her. She put her camera back on her helmet as the hostiles were practically staring at her. Corporal Klamala aimed his rifle high, spraying at the figure as it dropped to the ground.
"Worry about your life first!" he screamed as he continued to fire.
The gun fire went on for an hour before a command was heard.
"Fix bayonets!" someone screamed.
"Counter push!" screamed another person down the trench. "Move, move, move!"
A whistle blew loudly.
"Get up!" screamed Ramirez to Private Gregory. "We're moving!"
Kat tripped as she got up. Her legs gave way as she became nervous. Her heart was beating too fast for her to hear anything.
"Come on, he-agh," screamed a Marine who was shot in the head as he was racing ahead of Kat.
Bodies littered the way, as the only thing visible were the flashes of guns that came from the trench they were heading to. Kat had stumbled as her gear was falling off. Her camera captured every death imaginable. She lost sight of everyone. Rifle in hand, she made her way toward the trench, landing on a person with other Marines already fighting. She pointed the bayonet and smashed it into the chest of an invader.
"Kill, kill!" she cried. "Kill, kill!"
"Kill, kill!"
"Kill, kill!"
"Kill, Ki-,"
"End of Recording"
---
"Beginning of Recording"
"Look what I found!" screamed Quincy Usoman. "Shit, it looks antic."
"You're loud," said Private Beverly. "Inside voices."
"Is there a reason we're out here?" Quincy sighed.
"Niemen!" screamed Beverly. "Mush mush!"
"What's up?" he asked. "You brought that here?"
"No dumbass," Quincy chuckled.
"Does it work?" Johnny Niemen asked.
"Did you press record?" sighed Beverly.
"I didn't mean to," Quincy muttered.
October 30th, 2065: New Helsinki Airport - FOB: Airbase, Finland.
"September 2nd," Quincy read. "Jesus, it's still running?"
"It's one of those long-lasting shits," Beverly stated.
The three of them were standing in a trench, working to clean up anything left behind and fill the trenches. That was their first duty while being deployed. The cold October air was nothing new to Johnny Niemen, as the weather felt similar back home. For Beverly, it was hell. He came out with extra layers as he grabbed the shovel and dug out more items.
"Porn magazine," Beverly sighed. "Bones, bags, and bandages. Oh? What is this?"
Quincy and Johnny jogged over to him.
Beverly was holding a small square photo in his hand.
"No way," Quincy said. "Is this an invader?"
"They have names now, dumbass," Beverly sighed. "Telectians."
"Telectians," Quincy nodded. "Right, right."
He was still holding the camera, as the battery sign still indicated it had enough charge.
"It's break time, isn't it?" Johnny huffed. "I'm tired. This is POW work."
Sitting in the trench, they ate their MREs. Quincy Usoman had rewind the camera, which showed a beautiful lady looking at the lens.
"Please, don't be porn," prayed Beverly.
"Shut up," Johnny said, side-eyeing.
It continued as they watched just a few minutes of it. The clips kept cutting.
"5th Marines?" Johnny questioned. "Was this camera on that girl?"
Fast-forwarding the clip to the gruesome parts with the young boy and the charge. The clip became more and more gruesome to watch.
"Jesus," Quincy said.
The final words that played as the helmet with the camera fell off her head were,
"Kill, kill!"
"Kill, kill!"
"Kill, Ki-,"
"What happened to them?" asked Johnny.
"Do we even know what happened to the people who took the airport?" Quincy questioned.
"I was told they took it and progressed forward," Beverly noted. "But we're sitting in a graveyard."
"A graveyard of those with high hopes," Johnny uttered. "Just like our hopes."
Break time was over, and they got back to finishing up their work for the day. They continued their day like no other. The next day, they were back at it. This time, they found bodies that were decomposing under the dirt. However, bodies were not always left behind. This body, like several others, had been. They wore a Marine patch, had dog tags, and had gunshot holes all over their remains.
Johnny couldn't bear to look at it, but as the day went on and more bodies were found, they hauled it back to the airbase for a proper burial. Johnny and his fellow Marines were simply groundskeepers. Something Johnny knew all too well.