The Green Lieutenant

I sway with the truck’s jumping on the pathway, as do my men, all quiet. They all sit there quietly, holding blank stares at each other and gripping their firearms. I look farther up behind us and see four more transport trucks trailing close by, each carrying about ten men. It was an already hot enough day, the tarps that cover the trucks’ load only exacerbates the heat, but we pay no mind. Slight distant booming and popping sounds finally come into range over the clamorous grumbling of the engines. I look ahead through the driver’s window, some columns of smoke dissipate into the clear blue.

The trucks whine to a halt, two knocks on our transport signals us out. Some groaning, sighing, and yawning arise from my men. It’s been a long drive from the port. I will say, Tamaulipas looks quite alluring, if it wasn’t for what our forces had laid waste on our way here, but it’s minimal, suppose. Hopping off the truck, I see it’s a communal area and. I am quickly greeted by the Lieutenant Colonel, the battalion’s commander, she’s had her years. 

“Kahill!” she booms out, “Welcome to Ejido Benito Juarez. How’s your boat ride, Junior Lieutenant?” 

“Lieutenant Colonel, ma’am!” I click my heels to my superior. “I was rather confused why our transport was a cargo ship, alongside with the fact that the insides were retrofitted to house personnel, quite unconventional, even for me. Why not a regular cruise ship, Ma’am?” I ask the Lieutenant Colonel.

“That’s called, ‘Operating Covertly’. No one’s going to suspect a few commercial ships heading to one country, will they?”

“I suppose you are right, ma’am. I still believe our navy is unusual.”

“Hey, remember lieutenant, we only got so much to work with. It ain’t all glory and, most definitely not glamorous.” The LtCol. Warns.

“Aye ma’am.”

“Alright then, report into the FOB’s HQ and we’ll give you a sitrep and you’re briefing.” Commands the LtCol.  

I salute off to her and begin walking through the site. The area is bustling, a group of soldiers running off here, a truck with supplies speeding off there, a jet does a low overpass, drowning everything out with its engines for a moment. The ambiance of the far-off fighting is still distinct.  

Another transport truck passes by me, its load being the locals, all looking displeased by our presence and the ruckus we are causing. I would have thought they would have been more joyful at us liberating them from the oppressive, terrorising cartels and the uncaring corrupt officials.

A large tent finds itself in a field nearby, hidin staff from the sun. On top of the tent flew a few flags of Mexico, Spain, the UK, France, Germany, and our own. A captain beckons me over and leads me to a bleacher that’s in front of a large monitor screen. Those sitting in the bleacher are mainly commanders of my own forces, but as well as a few from the corresponding flags from outside. I sit alongside one of them and wait for the briefing.

The same Lieutenant Colonel form before the meeting begins, “Good afternoon officers. I would first like to thank the volunteer forces who have chosen to join in on our struggle of cleansing this land of corruption, and of course the efforts of the local forces in cooperating with us.” She turns on the monitor, showing a map of the city,

“Now, we currently have the city of Victoria surrounded and are fighting house to house, except west and southwest of here, where the foot of the mountains meets the city. Majority, if not all, of the locals have been evacuated in this target rich environment, so don’t use discretion too much. It’s expected that the enemy will run off to the mountains once we flush em out of the city, we do not necessarily have the means or capabilities to cut their escape off, so we’ll have to hit em hard and fast and then pursue them, remember that.” The LtCol. takes a quick gulp of a bottle of water she has on hand. “The first order of business is for Captain Joseba. You, your Echelon, and a detachment of the Mexican National Guard are to secure the Northwestern section of the city and head south, see if you can stop whatever enemies are trying to flee into the mountain, as well as securing the highway Lib. Naciones Unidas.

1st Lieutenant Burhan, you will just be securing a street and its intersection just East alongside Joseba. Report in for every secured intersection listed on your map so we can send in units to cover it. You’ll be assisted with a unit from the French Foreign Legion.

Senior Lieutenant Seppe, you’ll go down and do the same, securing C. 16 Norberto Treviño Zapata. Captain Branson here, from the UK, will have his unit attached to yours

The same goes for you, Chief Warrant Officer Zlatan, on Av. Jose Sulaiman Chagnon. Hauptmann Haumann of Germany will also be leading a unit with you.” The LtCol. turns to me. “Junior Lieutenant Kahill, your first big mission is to secure the highway of Cd. Victoria-Hidalgo and secure this major intersection. You’ll take up defensive positions here at this supermarket. Think you’re up for the task?” asks the LtCol.

“Yes ma’am!” I respond with vigour.

“Good. I’ll have your Sergeant First Class, Rashad, to assist as your first time, you’ll also be responsible for a Section of Spanish troops. Once the intersection is secured, an armoured relief force will arrive soon, we don’t have them yet now. Foreign officers, may you please go ahead and prepare your men, I need to have a few words with mine,” says the LtCol.

The officers left with no questions, though, their faces were full of it… about us. We all surround the LtCol, pitching in as to what she wants us to hear.

“Let me set this straight,” the LtCol begins, “The foreign support we are receiving is valuable, we would barely be able to do this entire operation if it weren’t for them. That means we can't afford having these nations lose support for this, to avoid that, we mitigate their casualties. Yes, yes, I know this is a combat zone, but don’t just throw the foreign troops in extremely hostile situations. If necessary, use you and your own troops to ensure their survival. Understood?”

We all affirm. The LtCol. dismisses us and we get to our places. My men and I are taken to a roundabout where our highway starts, merely inches away from the frontline. There, I find fifteen Spanish soldiers we are assigned to. It was also there that I meet my sergeant.

“Afternoon sergeant!” I chirp to him.

Rashad removes his helmet and looks at me. His face shows experience through his callus texture, holding a solid stoic gesture. Rashad looks up and down, at me then stares deep into my eyes, to then scoff silently.

“Ahem, Sergeant, this is a Lieutenant speaking. I’ll have you know I was top of the class.” I plainly say.

“Junior Lieutenant, sir.” Rashad retorts. “And I see you haven’t proven anything yet, especially with that soft skin of yours, sir.”

I let out a sigh. It’s one of those sergeants.

“Well then… allow me to prove myself, as I have back at the academy,” I smartly say.

Rashad grunts, “What’s your first order? ... sir.”

         “Finalise your gear checks. We will then be on standby at the front line until it's 1600 hours Sierra.”

         “Yes sir.” Rashad conforms.

Our Spaniard friends report in ready, as do we. We go to our assumed positions. It is there that a section of our own soldiers are returning from a sortie. The men marched in a line, looking tattered, dirtied. They pass by as if not acknowledging or even noticing our presence.  It's 1558 hrs. and adrenaline is already coursing through me. With a rifle at hand, I’m excited, I’m pumped, I’m ready!

         “Forward!” I command.

We traverse through the two sidewalks that are on edges of the two-way street, thirty men on each. Through the middle of the street are tropic trees. With no wind, the trees stand still. On our right is The Home Depot store, with only a few cars occupying the parking lots, all probably us. A little further down is a KIA’s car dealership, all of it’s displaying glass shot. On the left are a Carl’s Jr. and a Dairy Queen, empty, not even touched by us, but an AutoZone may be in the process of being sold out of its products by us. South of it is a small MNG complex, some soldiers are already there guarding it, looking keenly down the road where we’re headed. We exchange acknowledging nods as we press one. On the right again, we pass a gas station with an allied truck fueling up, the gunner up top also pointing down the road, glued and sensitive to auspicious movement. A little more walking and on the left is a graveyard, rows upon rows and columns of columns of burials. Each burial is beautiful and distinctly crafted, a sort of mini chapel for each late person.

By this time, we are likely in the official combat zone, on the basis that the ambiance of gunfire is no longer ambience but an almost physical atmosphere. Gunfights left and right in some not so far neighbourhoods, dogs barking, car alarms blaring off. A firefight must surely have been close to us by this time. An allied helicopter’s thumping soared almost right above us. It circles an area, a little far off from us, before unleashing a beam of red tracers to some unfortunate block.

I lead my half of the task force on the left side of the street, while Rashad leads the other half on the other side. On my left, we approach a neighbourhood of tightly packed houses. Me and my men keep a keen eye on them, for as empty as they may seem, the enemy itself could be hiding right there. Further up, two houses next to the street are two stories high and with widows. Those windows open and muzzle flashes start to sparkle from there.

“Contacts! Up in the building!” calls out of my men.

I give out my commands, “Section Alpha, clear the houses! Squad Alpha, behind me, we’ll take the first house! Squad Beta take the second! Section Beta, cover us!”

“Lieutenant, don’t move in! we can shoot them out from here!” Rashad tries to tell me, but I couldn’t hear with all of the commotion.

We get to the door of the first house, I kick it open, and I’m immediately greeted with lead. I jump out of the way, taken a little back by their apparent knowledge of us coming. A friendly lunges a grenade inside the, a blast shakes my head a little and I lead the squad storming into the house. An enemy peers out of a doorway, I shoot him down with my rifle. Fire from another room, forces us into cover, I get behind a wall. We exchange some fire, every time I peek to shoot, the enemy is already hiding. Finally an ally calls out the kill. I find stairs and guide my soldiers up. Before touching the second floor, preemptive fire fiercely patters the hallway. A friendly fires a couple of random shots down the hallway, but nothing. Another chucks a grenade in, the blast only disorientates the enemy a little. I can’t tell what exactly is going down the hall without getting my head getting blown off. A Spaniard with us tries to get some shots off, I jerk him back down.

         “Lieutenant, what’s your status?” Rashad asks over the radio.

         “We’re pinned at the stairs!” I holler.

         “Then keep your heads down! We’re gonna light up the second floor!”

Not a second went by and a thunderous roar filled the house, cracking and whistling of bullets resonated throughout. A couple of detonations sound off, must have been thrown in by the men outside. The shooting stops and silence is given a chance. I motion my men forward to clear the rooms. They rush in, one enemy survivor opens fire and hits one ally, he falls, the ally behind him avenges and shoots the injured enemy. We fan out to clear the rooms. I enter one room, rifle pointing out, empty. One the floor lays an enemy casualty, no uniform or gear, just a Kalashnikov, a well rounded, light kit, and a bandana.

         “Clear!” Yells one.

         “Clear!” Yells another.

I check on the downed ally.

         “Hey! Are you still with us?” I ask him.

The soldier staggers up, holding his arm.

         “Ngh… yeah, just nicked my arm.”

Taking a quick look at the second floor, I see a hole was created by Section Beta, who can be seen looking back at us.

         I communicate on comms for the other squad. “Squad Beta, this is Lt. Kahill. SitRep, over.”

         “Lt. Kahill, this is Beta. We cleared out our building, no casualties, over.”

         “Good copy, regroup with Section Beta.” I direct. “Out.”

We get back outside. Rashad is quick to call me out.

         “Sir, with all due respect, we had the means of attacking the enemy from outside. With our explosives, we could’ve forced them out and not risk a close quarters fight.” Rashad tells me sternly.

         “I-I was so sure we could have taken on like that.” I protest silently.

In retrospect, it went nothing at all as I thought it would have. In my mind, they should have been distracted by the outside force engaging them, and us entering should have been unanticipated, whatever resistance we did find should have been taken out swiftly. Yet it didn’t.

We continue one our trek, passing the neighbourhood, and another car dealership. There is a installation of the national government for agriculture, it was battered and vandalised, by the enemy no doubt. Some are spray paint glorifying their groups or giving ill words of the federal government and heads. It is noted that there are forms of poverty in this city, as per the quality of the houses, that was until we were passing one exceptionally nice house, and it would have been nicer if it didn’t have all of its damages from fire and a barrage of bullets and explosives from some battle before.

         “A nice walled off mansion in the middle of some shabby houses.” Rashad says.

         “Does that mean anything, sergeant?” I inquire Rashad.

         “Cartel safe house. Sudden nice houses are a good indicator of them. There was also a ridiculous amount we found in the United States, some as far as New York. Funny how when we started to collaborate with the local police to find these supposed super-secret houses, suddenly a bunch came up on radar.”

         “So you were the ones raiding those residences! What do you think happened here?” Asks a Spaniard.

         “Our Spec Ops went in to capture a kingpin, they seemed heavily equipped too. They only got his son a couple of accountants.” Rashad answers.

“Isn’t that a common occurrence, that they escape?” Asks the same Spaniard.

“Too common…” Says Rashad.

We stop being distracted and continue on the journey.

Sometime later, we reach a block with an open field with an unsuspecting house. Said unsuspecting house began to open fire upon us. Rashad was quick to take control.

         “Spaniards! Stay behind and take cover behind the foliage. Provide us supporting fire. Section Beta, join with Section Alpha!” Rashad Orders. “Kahill! Don’t you dare charge that house!”

Rashad sprints over across the street, as does his section. I shoot at the windows where I believe the enemy is. I can feel the incoming fire whip just past me.

         “Forty Mike-Mike out!” Yells a fellow soldier.

He fires a grenade launcher, it hits the wall and does little to the enemy. Section Beta gets to our side. The machine guns start to light up the house, pinning down the enemy in their cover. Puffs of smoke tell where our bullets hit.

         “Rocketeers, get working!” Demands Rashad.

A salvo of three rockets assaults the enemy’s “fortification”, one of them manages to go through the window and inside. The roof begins to collapse, smoke and debris bellows out. Figures exit the building and run out to the field. Our men turn their attention towards them. A few jerk about before falling down in the tall grass.

         “Cease fire!” I command, sensing there may be no fighting enemy left.

It became quiet again, apart from the ongoing battles surrounding us.

         “I think we have had enough of distractions. Let’s try to double time it.” I Recommend.

We pick up speed, going at a nice jogging pace. We pass by more, now barren, locations, such as a couple of plazas, many with cars unattended, some with flat tires and broken windows. The same goes for a mall’s parking lots. A family restaurant that has obviously been raided. And Fueling stations that have also been drained.  

         “How much do we have left?” I ask.

         “We’re less than half a klick to the objective.” The navigator answers me.

At once, someone starts to fire at us.

         “Behind!” Calls out an ally.

         “Get off the street! Take cover in the buildings!” Rashad commands.

We scatter off into the nearby building. Me and my section found ourselves in a Little Caesars.

         “Return fire dang it!” I order.

         “Where are they?!” Asks a Spaniard.

         “I don’t know! Just shoot!” Retorts another soldier.

I go up the window and fire out to the open. Glass shatters, the cracking and whistling of bullets fill my ears, I could barely tell who was talking.

         “They’re right there! Behind the wall and building!”

         “Just open up on them!”

         “They have a lot of ‘em!”

         “Contacts on the other side of the street!”

         “Section Beta be advised, you have enemy contacts on your side of the street!”

         “We know!” Rashad barks back at me over the comms. I could hear a similar chaos on his end.

         “They’re at the pharmacy!”

         “Suppress them!” I holler.

I look to the building that is just only 120 feet away from us. Some of the building’s glass has been shattered, revealing men with ill intent for us. I turn my rifles and spew out bullets at them until I run out.

         “Reloading!”  I holler.

I spot one man standing at the entrance, I fire five times before he goes down. There’s another to the left, I fire again, all missed as the enemy hides behind cover. A soldier throws in a grenade at the building, it made it in. A puff of smoke sips out of the building openings.

         “Hey, I think there’s a lot next to that gas station! Reckon we can blow it up?” An ally points out.

         “Rashad, I got an idea.” I communicate to him over the comms. “We are going to try and blow that gas station up, that should hamper the enemy on your side. We just need you to cover our side as we do an assault on the pharmacy and then cover your side to push.”

         “Lieutenant, no! We’re supposed to be going to the objective, not away! We’re not even in the position to be defensive! Remember the Spaniards!?” Rashad berates. “Look, let’s do the opposite. Once you blow the station, we’ll cover your retreat, I repeat, your section’s retreat! Find a position as far back as you can and then you can cover us! We just have to hold them off at the intersection! Do you understand Junior Lieutenant?!”

I hesitate. I was just urging to charge at the enemy now.

         “Rocket!”

An explosive impacted the wall, nearly shaking the whole building and us as well. Behind me, I notice a young Spanish soldier trying to hunker down the most he can behind a desk.

         “Section Alpha! Ignite the station.” I order the men.

Our machine gunners unload upon the innocent gas station. Hundreds upon hundreds of rounds are fired against the station. Clinking of brass is audible with the piles of expended cartridges forming near our feet.

         “Does it even have gas?” Questions a soldier.

         “Section Alpha! Hurry up! We have horrible cover here, and we don’t have all day!!!” Rashad cries out.

         “We’re working on it, Sergeant!”

         “Hey Cabo! Get that grenade launcher in use!”

         “Yes Sargento!”

The explosive is flung out and lands directly on the station. It erupts in flames, certain figures are ejected into the air.

         “Kahill, move now!”

         “Section Alpha, run for it!!!”

We sprint through the back end of the building. No matter what is being shot at behind us, no matter the weight of our gear, adrenaline takes us to where we need to go. I can hear more glass shattering and a few explosions going off just behind us. My gear jumbles all around me, my feet practically slap against the ground with each step. I get reminded of the sun’s heat as drops of sweat roll down around my face.  

We reach another restaurant building.

         “Do we take position here?” Asks one of my men.

         “No, no. We have to go farther. I think I saw a building behind this one.”

We go behind the building to circumvent enemy fire. We are still ways away from safety.

         “They’re still shooting at us!” Says an ally.

         “Go, go, go!” I direct my allies.

As my men turn the corner, cracks of bullet impacts on the walls greet us. I turn and shoot in retaliation. A machine gunner joins in covering our fellow soldiers, only for his head to whip back and fall down.

         “Agh!!! They just freakin’ hit my head! They just hit up my head!!!” the machine gunner screams.

         “Hold it! I’m getting you out of here.” I tell him.

I drag him into cover, he’s quite the heavy one. My arms almost tear trying to get him out of there. A soldier comes into aid and helps the gunner up.

         “Into that building!” I say.

We break inside, discovering it’s a clinic and pharmacy. We get in a more comfortable defensive position.

         “Section Beta, we’re ready! Get over here!” I talk through the comms.

         “Good copy Section Alpha.” Rashad manages to respond.

Moments later, the building Section Beta held had men scurrying out it.

         “Guns up, guns up! Cover them!” I direct.

The multitude of our firepower becomes almost synchronous, unable to tell the individual shots. Section Beta passes an Office Depot, and jumps over a fence into a backyard field. The enemy began to push forward towards us. Soon we received a hail of bullets.

         “Keep at it! Maybe we can repel them!” I say in desperation.

         “Junior Lieutenant! Get a move on! You can’t hold the position forever!” Rashad pleads.

         I try to protest. “Yes we can! If you can get your men up here we will have a better chance to-”

         “Kahill! You're about to be flanked and overrun!” Rashad warns.

A barrage of lead terrorises the wall, making me duck down, an explosion explodes uncomfortably close to us just outside.

         “What Sergeant?!”

“You’re about to be overrun from the North and the Northwest! And we’ve picked up movement coming upon you from the Southeast! Get out there, cross the street to us!”

I panic. More enemies from another direction?! My mind for a moment breaks. The shockwave of a blast brings me back to some sanity.

         “Section Alpha! We're moving again! And take some of that stuff!” I point out to the pharmaceutical items in the store.

We run like hell, I could almost feel the breeze through my suit. I hear whistles all around me, sometimes harsh snaps across the ground. We get to the field after nearly lunging ourselves over the fence, where we find ourselves regrouped with Section Beta. The field was a backyard of a five story and somewhat opulent appearing hotel. We lay ourselves as fast as possible, bullets screeching overhead.

         “Sergeant Rashad?” I call out, “Sergeant Rashad!?”

         “Dang it sir, stop screaming! I’m here.”

         “What the heck do you suppose we do know sergeant?!”

         “We hunker down in the hotel and call for reinforcement, sir.”

I relent. We force our way into the hotel. It is quite exquisite from the inside. Clean and untouched by war. There was a small pool with some sun loungers around it, even though there was no clear opening for the sun. Around were the multiple stories of floors with the rooms having a balcony opening to the central open area to where the pool was. Gunfights still rage distantly outside, but the enemy seemingly seems to have stopped pursuing us.

         “Specialist, start talking with HQ. Tell them it’s SNAFU over here. We came across an unexpected size of enemy forces and got forced into a defensive position in this building.” I ordered.

         “Yes sir.” The Specialist complies.

         “FUBAR, actually.” Rashad corrects me.

         “We’re not FUBAR, Sergeant.” I try to berate Rashad.

         “Sir, HQ cannot send any form of ground support. Heavy resistance has popped up all around the north of the city.” Explainsthe Specialist.

         “Not even armoured?” I hopelessly ask.

The radio operator shakes his head. I take off my helmet, slump back into a wall, and wipe my sweaty face. I look at my watch, the time is 1821. It was now that I realised it was almost approaching dusk, the sky turning orange. I breathe in, and let out a long sigh…

“Okay… gentlemen, we’re going to be here for a while now, may very well be a couple of days.” I say.

The pains in my spine, head, feet and legs make themselves known. How? How, how, how did it end up like this? We should have had no problem in those first few minutes of the encounter. How did we get overwhelmed? How was I not able to get ourselves out of this situation? Rashad seems to be a Know-It-All, how come he didn’t get us out of this? No matter, I must find a way.

         “I’ll pick some night watchers, everyone else, that means go rest, find whatever you can here. Lieutenant, I recommend that you get rest as well and cool off.” Rashad says.  

         “What are you inferring, sergeant?” I inquired about Rashad.

         “I’m inferring that it’s best for you to get rest now while you can, sir.” Rashad says sternly. “I can handle it for the night.”

I wanted to protest, but my anguish got the best of me and I went to rest. I go into the lobby, passing by some of my fellow soldiers, a few look rugged. One of the Spaniards sits in the lobby’s couch, he holds a blank stare, mouth gaping a little open, he finally decides to move, reaching for a cigarette. I go in search of a bedroom, the hallways are well kept, almost feeling cosy itself. I chose an arbitrary room on the fifth floor, it’s so pristine, the beds are perfectly organised, just like back in the academy, only much more stuffed with cushions. After eating a portion of my field meal, I jump on the bed and allow myself to drift off.  Gunfire goes off just outside. I jump out of the bed like lightning and bolt outside with my rifle in hand.

         “Where are they!” I ask.

         “South!” Answers a fellow soldier.

I go to the third floor, pick a window, and start firing. I’m somewhat still groggy, I guess it's some time around 2AM local time. A fellow gunner comes up beside me to cover each other. It's just pitch-black outside, not even streetlights are enough to illuminate the area, only various flashes blinking all through the scene in front of us and the streaks of traces flying through the area. I shoot wildly, hoping that any one of my bullets are of use.  A burst of bullets strikes just inside the room we’re in, it’s enough to wake me up. Remembering I have night vision, I finally turn it on, my visors turn the world green. Although it’s a little blurry, I get a better picture of the enemy’s position. Directly in front of us across the street is a coffee shop, behind it is another hotel. On the opposite side of the intersection’s corner, about Southeast for us, some sort of mini mall, all crawling with someone intending to kill us. A rocket shot out of our hotel down the street below, giving an orange glow to the place for a moment. It was an armed truck by the enemy. An enemy rocket retaliated and made a direct hit with our hotel’s walls.

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         “Gunner! Over there, right there!” I tell the gunner.

         “Yeah, yeah, yeah! I have it! Firing!”

         My radio operator advises me through the comms. “Sir, we have friendly CAS arriving, a helo will be coming shortly!”

         “Good copy specialist! Make sure it knows where to hit!” I told the specialist.

The beating of propellers announces the impending support. The helo was a Mexican UH-60 Blackhawk, armed with rockets and minigun, it made good use of them. A beam of red tracers terrorises the enemy held hotel. A couple of rocket salvos are launched to the road where enemy vehicles are. The rockets scream, the guns buzz. Once the enemy begins to swat the helicopter, it bugs out, and as quick as the helicopter leaves, the firefight stops. As the adrenaline subsides, I find my heart beating rapidly. I look at the gunner, and he looks alright.

         “Sir, you good?” He asked me.

I nod. 

“Err… Go check on the others.” I tell the gunner.

“Yes sir!” He goes off. 

I too leave the room, into the hallway. Two friendly soldiers sprint by, another comes to me from the other way. 

 “Sir, casualty report; only one Imperial is injured.” He explains.

“How bad is it?” I ask

“He’s recoverable, sir.”

I nodded my head in comprehension and whisked him away. All that I wanted to do now was to sleep.  Getting back to the room, I plop down and rest my eyes. 

I sluggishly eat my breakfast, food that we found from the hotel. There was an odd sense of freshness from the abandoned meats, fruits, breads, etcetera. After finishing, I walked around the hotel for a little bit, keeping in tabs with the others and trying to get the best image of our situation. Later on, I found Rashad with the radio specialist, they finished up communicating with the other friendly forces and HQ.  

“Anything new?” I ask them both.

“Nothing really,” Rashad answers. “It’s still going to take a while until the evac forces get here. They’re going to plan an air supply drop for us just so we can last.”

“It’s that bad…” I say.

Rashad only grunts in affirmation. 

“Why can’t we get helos to pick us up?” I asked the radio operator.

  Rashad replies in the operator’s stead. “Enemy has anti-air capabilities, it will only be a dead end, literally.” 

I groan. “Must we actually sit around and wait for support?”

“Yes Junior lieutenant!” Rashad retorts, clearly beginning to become impatient with my own impatience. “The AO is hot! Even armoured units will need to trudge to get through here!”

“There has to be a way to get ourselves, there must be,” I say under my breath. “It certainly cannot be unachievable…”

I leave them be. Looking out to a nearby window, Southward, I came up with an idea. We’ll simply have to clear the intersection’s corners one by one in a surprise attack. I go to round up ten of my men and ten of the Spanish, tell them my amazing plan, set up and head out. Rashad was quick to stop me. 

“What in the world’s name are you doing?” Rashad snorts, arms crossed.

“We are about to do something!” I retorted. “Now will you please excuse us.” 

` “What happened to sitting tight for support?"

“We can't wait for that, what if the enemy bolsters continue to attack us?”

“We are in a favourable defensive position, we have temporary CAS and supply drops, we need to sit tight to avoid casualties!” 

“We need to take the intersection, it's right there!”

“We cannot Kahill!” Rashad yells out, almost through his arms in the air. 

“... That's Lieutenant, sergeant.”

“Junior lieutenant, and as your Sergeant First Class, I am supposed to use my experience to help you, but I can't do that when you’re trying to headbutt the enemy all the time!”

“It’s not ‘headbutting’. Now you can let us be on our way, or, you can even accompany us if you're so worried, Sergeant.” I offer Rashad. 

Rashad stood in silence, then tapping his foot furiously for a bit, before finally speaking.

“There’s no stopping you, is there?” He begins. Rashad sighs, “I’ll go with…” 

“Good! Now let's be on our way.” 

I stepped outside of the building for the first time in what felt like months since. We each exit out cautiously, all while crouching down. We gather under the shadow of some trees and the cover of shrubbery until we have all grouped up. The air was still, the sky was mostly clear say for a few puffs of clouds. No one seems to bat us an eye. The area was considerably mute, say for the far distant volleys of cannons, but even then it was hardly audible.

“Remember, we can't use CAS offensively,” Rashad warns. “The only support we can have for this is backup from the hotel. Sir, can you let me take the enemy building with fifteen men?” 

I bet it’s because Rashad doesn't think I can lead such an attack. Fine then, I’ll let him, but I'll prove him wrong in the long run with this assault. I give Rashad the nod of approval. 

“Go!” I command.

Rashad and the fifteen dash down to the multi story building, waiting no time to bust down the glass doors and windows. The five remaining and I storm the poor little coffee shop. Before we can even get near, enemies from the inside defend themselves. We dive down and try to hide behind the not very tall road median. Enemy bullets pin us down well, concrete and asphalt fragmentations fly over and at us. 

“Use grenades!” I yell. 

We all reach for a water balloon of death and chuck one or two of them each. Only a couple of frags made it in. The enemy’s heads are forced down. A detached arm flings out from the cover. 

“Push!” I call out, motioning my men out of our cover. 

The six of us spring all while hip firing our rifles, not caring much as to where the bullet goes other than merely the enemy’s general direction. We make our way through a broken down glass wall, all with the intent to cleanse out this building. Two are hiding behind a counter, me and two of my men spray them down. Another peeks out of a corner and manages to get no more than three rounds off before getting shot himself. A hostile charges from behind and attempts to tackle one of the friendly soldiers. The two fall down, flail and writhing around each other, I don't shoot in fear of blue on blue. My soldier just manages to push the enemy out a little, and at that, another friendly sends two pieces of lead into the cranium unhesitantly. The tackled soldier shoves the corpse off and composes himself.

“Bastard…” The soldier mutters under his breath, wiping off his suit as if it had dirt. 

We sweep through the coffee shop, peering through each corner until it's secured. 

“Clear!” Yells a soldier

“Clear!” Says another.

“Rashad, what is your status?” I say over the comms. 

Rashad responds. “We’re making progress!” His voice sounds out of breath, there is a brief moment in which gunfire is heard in the background. 

Inside shooting can be heard from all the way here. Muzzle flash can perhaps be seen from a few of the windows. A figure breaks through the glass from the 6th floor and falls all the way down. 

I communicated through the comms again. “Are you in need of some extra men? Sergeant?” 

There is a slight pause in the response.

“Negative.” Rashad merely says. 

Minutes anxiously pass by as we wait, until finally the silence of the immediate surrounding is returned.

“Rashad, status?” I called again.

“Building is cleared. Returning to the rally point.”

“Good copy.” 

As we leave the coffee shop, so does the team from the building. We stand out just along the side of the street, eyeing down the next block. There are absolutely no activities at all within the building, other than what was damaged from last night’s skirmish. 

“Sergeant?” I begin. “Will you give us the permission to cross this road?” I say tartly. 

“Yes, Junior Lieutenant.” Rashad says, almost growling under his breath. 

We step out into the open road, feeling strong and mighty. My face grins, we now have two quarters of the section secured, two more remain! It’s as simple as I knew it would be. Who would have thought we need to merely advance, instead of “waiting for support”, what victory and glory is there in that? Looking down south along the road, a convoy of pickup  trucks turn around the corner. The convoy is some 250 metres, all coloured with dark green digital camo with red and blue flashing lights. On top of the trucks are men with face covering masks and sunglasses, clad in green digital camo uniform and helmet too, black vest, armed with a mounted heavy machine gun such as 50. cals. On the sides of the vehicles I can just about see some emblem or seal, can't be sure what exactly.

“Hey look! Isn't that the Mexican army? Were we ever told of them operating just south of us?” I ask the men around me. They all shake their heads. 

Rashad takes a squint at them, leaning in as if it would get him a better look, and covers the sun’s glare from his eyes. His eyes widened.

“Enemy contacts!” 

Before I can ask what rashad means by that, the trucks open fire. 

“Scramble!” Rashad yells again.

I attempt to return fire at the apparent enemy, the most I manage to do was crack the bullet proof. Rashad pulls me out of the street and into a wall of our previous position. We all take turns playing cat and mouse, peeking from the cover  for a fraction of a second if it means sending a bullet to them. 

“Do we have rocketeers?” Rashad asks me, nearly trying to scream over the gunfire. 

“Negative!”

“Not one?!”

“No!”

“Dammit Kahill!”

“Screw this!” a sharpshooter of ours says. “Cover me!”

The sharpshooter jumps out into the open to eliminate the gunmen. Rahsa yells out a command and nearly the entire task force shoots in the general direction, machine gunners letting their weapon rip. The sharpshooter fires once, twice, third time and the lead gunner is down, he fires again and the second enemy gunner is down. 

“Get out of there!” Rahsad beckons him, motioning his arms to us. 

The sharp shooter disregards, “Not yet!” 

A third enemy gunner finally manages to get its shots off. The stream of lead pelts the asphalt around the sharp shooter, some find him. The sharp shooter is knocked down, almost bouncing on his back on the ground. A Spanish soldier dares himself onto the killzone, getting the downed soldier and drags him into safety. 

“Dammit! Covering fire!” Rashad orders again. 

The Spaniard just about gets into cover before his legs are struck. I go in and try to pull them both in, another helps me too. Once behind the wall, I check on the Spaniard's leg. His eyes are closed shut as he winces, sharing bear clenching teeth. 

“Hold them still!” I say to the Spaniard, trying to get a good look at his wounds, but he keeps flailing and kicking his legs. “How’s the other one?” I ask the soldier tending to the sharp shooter. 

“He might not be stable… they got’em good at his waist.” The soldier says, too busy to talk as he desperately tries to stop the bleeding. 

A series of heavy projectiles strike around our position, kicking debris up to us. Some of the allies flinch back. 

“Hold position!”  I command.

I peek out to return the lead. I shoot at the windows of the armoured cars, not knowing if it does anything at all. Another gunner takes the place of their late ones, they almost strike me. After hunkering down into cover, I look out again to fire. The trucks ahead have stopped and the enemy inside have begun to dismount. Masses of enemy units now permeate throughout the streets. One enemy kneels down, carrying a somewhat long tube. White smoke erupts from the tube, streaking towards us.

“Rocket!” 

The explosive impacts right beside us. The blast knocked me down, debris hitting my helmet shakes my head, as all I can see at first is an orange glow and brown dust. Staggering myself up, trying to put my mind and senses together, my ears are filled with yelps of pain or screams of terror. Some of the Spaniards' faces are dirtied in black and red. 

“Kahll!” Rashad calls me. He runs at me and gets down to my face. “We have to retreat!”

I protest. “No! We can do this! We just have to shoot back!” I try to shake off Rashad while still in a state of shock. 

“Stop it, just stop it, Kahil!” Rashad snatches my collar and pulls me closer to him. “We are out gunned, outmanned, pinned down, and have no armour support!!!” 

Another series of hailing fire strikes just at our position. To my side, it's the same young Spaniard looking at his trembling and blood soaked hands, appearing as if he's on the verge of sobbing. 

“Lieutenant!” Rashad barks, “Give the command!”

“...re… retreat…” I finally mutter.

Rashad begins to handle the rest. “Spaniards, lead the way back. Men, cover fire as we withdraw! Kahill, don't look back till you’re inside.” 

I manage to nod before I start running with the allies.  

“Stay within cover!” Rahsad warns us from afar. 

Other than the gunfight raging behind us, the heavy steps of sprinting and the clanking and jostling of gear accompanies us along the way. Occasional stray bullets greets us to our side, a supersonic crack streaks by quickly followed by its report, sometimes we even get a whistle. We reach the street, only mere metres from the doors of the building.  

“Oof!” an ally has tripped.

Turn back to the ally out of there, pulling him up as he desperately staggers. It is there that I see the rest of the team retreating, with the enemy trailing behind them. Too far to hear each other, Rashaad waves his arms around,motioning to get inside. Never before did I run so intently to arrive at another place. The reserve force inside greets us with surprise and confusion about our quick return. 

I waste no time explaining, “Get the anti-armour firing now!”

I get to the closest window southward, and brace for the ensuing battle. Rashad and the others are still some ways before reaching our position, so we cover them. I again shoot at the impending armoured vehicles, who, in return, are also shooting at us. Smoke trails race towards the enemy. A friendly rocket hits one of the six vehicles, sending it up in flames. The enemies who were in the cargo bed of the pickup truck jumped out as flames burst all around them, some were even flung out. 

One man manages to survive the blast, but is engulfed in fire. Despite all the goes on around us and between, the lit enemy’s screams still stood itself out in my ears. Two of his comrades rush right by him as he flails around, not one cent of attention or concern is given. The enemy’s lively green camo becomes a rotten crisp black, the only thing lively left is the enemy’s panic and the licking tongue of fire. Wanting to stop his screaming, I pull my sights over and send three rounds to the chest. Finally still, the enemy falls to the knees and then to the ground, the fires continue to devour. 

The rocketeers try their best to bring down the dastardly aroused vehicles, but their absolute volume of fire makes it perilous to even peek out. 

“Someone get us fire support!” I commanded over my shoulder, hoping someone had heard and went on their way to fulfil. 

Rashad and his group finally manage to get inside, and without skipping a beat, they get in defensive positions. I turn away from the window to reload my rifle. A volley of heavy machine gun fire strikes across our position, nailing friendly down to the ground. While the armour prevents an immediate death, attention is needed. The injured soldier kicks around, coughing and gagging while clutching his chest to where the bullet hit him. 

I start to drag the downed soldier away from the danger that is the windows and the enemies outside. Another hail of leads fly into the room, striking against furniture in the lobby, shredding them, splinters jumping in all directions. A table’s flow pot disintegrates into a millions pieces, the flowers and water falling out too. The couches nearby have their stuffings fly out and flutter around. More friendly soldiers rush into the first floor to bolster the defence, sprinting past me. A field medic takes over in the care of the injured man, and before returning the radio operator gets a hold of me. 

The radio operator holds out the comms to me. “Sir, they’re on standby but need your confirmation!” He says in an almost breathless state.

“Confirmation for what?!”

The radio op. tries gulps in air,  “Confirmation to fire, sir!”

“For crying out loud!” I snatch the comm device. “Who is this? Can you hear me?!”

“This is the commander of the 131st artillery battalion of Germany, we can hear.” The commander’s demeanour gave no hints of urgency. “Is this the commander?” 

“Yes, this is him! I need you to get those artillery shells on this street!”

“But lieutenant, have you considered the local infrastructure we’ve also been tasked with preserving? I need to have you be absolutely sure on-”

Enemy bullets streak across the hall in which we were in.

I yell with outrage, “We're trying to preserve our own lives, dammit!!!”

“Alright, alright,” The commander relents. “Firing now.” 

I rush back to the scene of fighting.

“Artillery!” I warn my comrades. 

I slide down next to a window, then peek out to shoot. Just as I look to the outside, ghastly whistles fill the air along with the ensuing gunfight. A brief firebomb implodes on the enemy’s position, quickly turning the area into dust and smoke, immediately halting the shooting. The blast waves almost push off balance. As the sounds of the blast dies down, the fight recontinues. We couldn't see anything beyond the parking lot in front of us, and yet the machine gunner fires wildly into the midst. 

Finally Rashad gave off the call, “Cease fire, cease fire!”

“Cease fire!” I echo. As do a few others.

The dust finally settles, revealing a few patches of fire feeding off the remains of the enemy. 

“Let’s check for survivors.” Rashad says. 

I agree and follow him, four more join us. Stepping out once more, now with a more heightened and alerted conscience. Are rifles stiffly remained on the enemy, even while they are in ruins. A detached car door rests on the road, with something limp under it. Slowly, I lift the door off the unknown object. It is only a corpse laying face down, whatever skin can be recognized is but bloodied and burnt. 

“KIA” I report. 

Rashad comes over for a look, rummaging around the vest of the deceased.

“Ah, I should have guessed.” Rashad murmurs. 

“What is it?”

Rashad points to a patch on the dead. It's black rectangle with white capital letters reading; ‘C.D.G.’

“The Gulf Cartel huh? Should've guessed.”

A fellow soldier approached us, “Sir.” He shows us a barely recognizable M2 Browning, with the barrel broken in half. Regardless of its state, it was still a menacing piece of war. 

“How on earth were they able to get all this?” I ask. 

“Coercing ‘friends’ from high places, just like us,” Rashad answers. 

“Alright, everything looks clear,” I say, “salvage what you can.” 

I feel a little sense of pride, like a hunter after winning a big game, returning with his hunt. Having returned to our ‘base’, we see what carnage the enemy has given us. A handful of our men are on the floor trying to be stabilised as best they could by others, those who are now stable are being taken elsewhere for more intensive care, three Spanish are injured, but not majorly. ‘It doesn't really seem to be that simple,’ I think to myself, grimacing at what lies before me. 

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Rahsad begins. He turns toward me, grabbing me by the collar, and then shoves me to the nearest wall. “This is what I've been warning you about!” he snarls. He points to the wounded, “We have twelve wounded, do you know what that means?”

In shock, I could barely process his words flooding into my ears, “W-were down to about eighty percent operability?”

“Wrong! We are down sixty percent!” Rashad almost spits out to me, “Because not only do we have twelve wounded, but also another twelve tending to them Junior Lieutenant! We are now marginally operational!”

Finally Rashad lets me go. I stand there, leaning on the wall, digesting the words. The soldiers around me seem to have paid no heed to the drama, and yet my face flushes red. I stumble somewhat around, finding myself a seat on the corner of the floor. I take off my helmet, finally breathing air directly, but it is not refreshing, but rather it stenches of gunpowder, and something akin to iron. I swept the sweat off my brow, only to realise my hands were also dirty, but my head yearned to rest upon something immediately. I get up, stumbling a little again, to find something to wash with. 

I run into Rashad and the radio operator, they are communicating with HQ. 

“This is Sergeant First Class Rashad, we are requesting medivacs or medical supplies, ASAP.”

“Who are the casualties?” A man on the comms asks.

“Nine wounded and three minorly injured foreign volunteers.” Answers Rashad. 

“Negative, the AO is too hot and not enough of a priority. Other task forces are having problems too.”

“Understood.” Rashad takes off his helmet and pinches the base of his nose, quickly shooting me a momentary glance. 

Guilt flushes over me. I walk back to where the wounded are being held and begin to assist.

It's the following morning. The enemy is assaulting our western side, they’ve gotten into the ballroom. I dash into the main lobby, where the others are holding the enemy off. The volume of gunfire makes it nearly impossible to identify who says what.  

"There's like thirty of them in there!” 

“Can anyone get a frag in dangit?!”

“Crossing!” I advise, before making the sprint behind a thick column. 

“Sir!” A soldier hollers, “what do you need us to do?!”

A bullet strikes across the edge of the column, kicking up debris to my face. 

I answer unfazed, “Get someone to figure out if it's just them or if there’s more outside!”

“Aye!” The soldier himself goes. 

“Hold the line!” I reassure my soldiers, "Don't let them in!”

I turn towards the enemy’s position and fire a few wild rounds through the bottleneck that connects the ballroom and lobby, them and us. Smoke fills on both sides, we pay no mind to it at all. Seconds feel like gruelling and crucial minutes, no progress being made other than damage to the building. Finally the soldier returns.

The soldier rushes into the closest cover, almost out of breath. “Sir, I can confirm, no other enemy’s outside!” 

“Okay, get two teams and flank the enemy like hell, now!”

“ And if they counterattack, sir?”

“...” Can the teams stay flanking the enemy once they caught wind? “... Then you pull back, don't get yourselves stuck in trouble.” 

“Aye!” The soldier sprints off outside, but not before rounding up a few men. 

I turn to order the others, “Hey! Put up the pressure! keep their heads down!” I peek out again to shoot at the enemy. 

With each round fired, a slight bump pushes to my shoulder, a slight shake to my hands.  I strain my eyes to look deep into another room, but it’s obstructed by dust and smoke. 

“Lieutenant!” It is Rahsad “The enemy is falling!” Just now do I notice him right at the front of our defence.

“I’m pushing up!” I say. 

Rashad and the others let automatic fire rip into the ballroom, I run with all my might, right to where Rashad is. It was the wall that is right around the corner to the hall that leads to the ballroom. One could almost feel the passing bullets from both sides. 

I contacted the soldier from before through comms, “Flanking Team, status?”

“We're getting them sir! we're getting them!” The soldier says enthusiastically. Faint gunshots can be heard in his background. 

“Good!” I turned to the sergeant, “Rashad?” 

“What sir, you want to rush in?” He says a little tartly. Not sure if that is Rashad just being Rashad, or that he hasn't forgiven me yet. 

I hesitate, “... What do you think, sergeant?”

Rashad pauses a little, then goes over to the corners and shoots a quick burn at the enemy. “... We can do it.”

I get back to the soldier on comms, “Flanking Team, hold fire, we're pushing in!”

“Yes sir, holding fire!” The soldier follows.

I turn to Rashad again, “Are you ready, sergeant?” 

“Dunno, you're a risk factor.” Rahsad says.

“Hey, I’ll make sure I've got your back, slow and steady.” I reassure.

Rashad tilts his head in either confusion or doubt. “Aright, aright, alright. Let's get to it.”

“Frags out!” I yell.

A few, along with I and Rashad, chuck grenades into the ballroom, what follows are a series of cracks and bangs. 

“Push!” Says Rashad. 

We turn around the corner, quickly but cautiously entering the enemy held room. Rashad and I move forward closely together, so much so we are basically bushing at each other's shoulders. 

Once inside the ball room, some cracks of bullets snap at my ears around me. Some muzzle flashes present themselves ahead of us, I shoot there. Finally getting a clear picture it is an enemy behind a turned over table, showing only his head to aim. Without hesitation, I swing my sights over and send two rounds at the enemy, blood spurting on the wall behind. We continue pushing up the room, now with our backs pressing against each other, bullets inches away from us. One of our soldiers ran a little too deep, getting knocked down by a shot. Further to my left, another enemy hides behind the stage floor. I shoot at the enemy, but duck just in time, though, the target isn't as lucky the second time it pops its head up, I nail the enemy on the spot. I look forward, an enemy comes out a door across the room, he shoots at us, I shoot at him, he misses, I don't. 

“Nice one Kahill” Praises Rahsad.

The room is now quiet, no bangs of bullets or bombs any more, other than the quiet crackle of a few fire patches. The ballroom is an utter mess, floor tiles tattered, broken, missing, blast marks here and there, a chandelier laid splat on the ground, glass, lots of glass scattered throughout. 

The soldier from outside contacts me, “Sir, the enemy is retreating west to the neighbourhood. Do you want us to engage?” 

“Negative. Just clear the surrounding area.”

“Yes sir.”

“Well, well, well, what happened to being gung ho?” Teases Rashad?

I remained silent, partly because I didn't want to respond to his tease, and partly because I didn't know the answer, and moreover, in a slight daze too.  

Rashad continues, “What? Has your humour taken leave too?”

“Sir, the area is clear of hostiles.” The soldier notifies me through comms. 

“Keep watch for the time being. I’ll get a team to relive your’s.” I direct. 

“Aye sir.”

Another soldier gives the casualty report, twelve confirmed enemy kills, two friendlies injured, volunteers are unscathed.  Eventually our luck will run out if we don't get support. I know it, it's only a matter of time before one of us is the first to die. Or who knows, maybe we can all make it out, maybe. 

I am informed the relief unit is estimated to be less than twenty hours away, fighting around us has intensified also. I sit at the steps of stairs, resting for what I can. Rashad comes with two glass bottles, handing me one after sitting next to me.

“Glass bottled water?” I inquire. 

“Topo Chico, it's a sparkling mineral water that is supposedly popular with the locals.”

The bottle is wet, dripping from its condensation, the glass itself hotels a teal tint. I pop open the cap, slowly raising the bottle to test its taste. The cold liquid viciously tickles my tongue, it's a somewhat salty taste, but not immoderately so, it even passes as refreshing. I take a lager sip… I have no qualms with it. Though, what makes it popular? Rashad gulps it down, only to end up bringing up wind. 

“Excuse me, sir.” Rashad says politely.

“Jeez, are all of you enlisted like that?” I manage to joke. 

“Well I didn't know you commissioned were such highclassman.” Rashad smirks.

“Hey, I was raised on a farm in Turkey, Turkey I tell you!” 

“Yeah and I think OTS messed you up a little, sir.” 

“Haha. Say, what’s that flag of yours? Egypt?”

“No.”

“Err… Oman, was it?”

“You're killing me lieutenant.” 

“Well? Out with it.” I urge Rashad.

Rashad peeps, “... Later.”

The sergeant walks away, leaving an unfinished bottle. It had become late, and much of my body now plead for rest. I make the final check ups with my soldiers before heading to “my” room, finally getting under the covers again to sleep… until I couldn’t. The sounds of constant streaming gunfire was nothing like the soothing rain. I looked at my watch, it’s 0246. I stare into the abyss that is the dark ceiling, before finally getting irked enough to get out of the room.

To my left, Rashad is keeping watch in the hallway window, I approach him. 

Before I could speak a word, he spoke to me. “It’s not the same back at training.”

         “Huh? What do you mean Rashad?”

         “You were simulated in hostile environments right Kahill? Learned how to sleep through noises like these?”

         “Of course. Err… At least I thought we learned to get used to the noises.”

         “Even if they use real bullets, it’ll never be the same. Knowing there’s someone out there, maybe a good some even, etching your name on their bullets… I’ve gotten used to that, and I’m not sure if that’s praiseworthy.”

He continues to stare out to keep security. Outside there are brief glows of yellow light, tracers flying into the night. I start to ponder about him.

         “Rashad?”

         “Hm?”

         “Did you have any experience before becoming an Imperial?”

Rashad stands silent. I wonder if he is thinking about his choice of words, a lie, or just refusing to speak about it at all.

         At last, Rashad sighs. “I’ve lived and been in Yemen for more than thirty years since birth, until now. Having known war since six, a war between five or more factions, each supported by various of other organisations or nations with who knows what motives…. all wanting to rule a country they’re tearing apart.”

         “Did you fight for any of those sides?”

         “Kahill, I was part of the town defence militia since I was thirteen. There were no sides for us, just preservation of self and loved ones… still lost many. Imperials came in for assistance and humanitarian aid back in five years ago, 2020… they got me hooked up. Already with informal experience I got formal training from the Imperials. Continued fighting for four more years, then they said, ‘We can’t do this anymore, we’re stretched too thin and it’s doing nothing.’ So we all pulled back by 2024, abandoned my town pretty much. And here I am now fighting these guys in this country, as you probably already know.”

         “Do you wish to be back in Yemen?” I ask Rashad.

         “I don’t know where I want to be anymore Kahill… I only got my orders and the promises the Imperials have so far kept up.”

         “Well, on the bright side, we’re helping these people who had a similar strife to yours, and I’m sure we will eventually come around to helping your people.”

         “…Maybe Kahill…Maybe… So, Lieutenant, what do you think about war?”

         “… Err, it hadn’t turned out like I thought it would.”

“So it finally got to ya.”

After a night’s “rest”, it became early in the morning and I was about to dive into my first bite of breakfast until an ally made a callout.

         “Contacts! All around!”

We all rushed to our positions. I reached the southern part of the building where it looked down upon the intersection.

         “Where are they, soldier?” I ask.

         “They’re across the street from here, at that shoppe and that other hotel.” Says he.

I pull up my rifle and begin firing. Plenty of muzzle flashes were in the coffee shop, so I fired a couple of rounds there. A hail of bullets strikes around the window which I'm at. I fall back, ears ringing. I look back inside, vision a little blurred. A rocket nearly hitted us inside, knocking a few of the soldiers there. When I come back to my senses, all is quiet. Rashad comes rushing in the room.

         “Sir, we have sustained seven new wounded, two are Spaniards! Sir!”

         “Gah. Rashad, why is no one shooting?”

         “Because we’re not being shot at, sir.” Rashad Explains “I believe they’re ‘feeling’ us out.”

         “Sir! Sir! HQ has come back to us, they are currently on their way with an armoured unit for evacuation!” Says the Radio operator.

         “How long?” I ask the specialist.

         “It’s estimated they’ll arrive at about 1500 hours Juliet time, so nine hours from now, sir.”

I stayed there on the ground, digesting what I've heard. Of course they were coming today, but for it ti be confirmed, it stuns me. After our surrounding area has been cleared, I gather all our soldiers to break the news.

         “Gentlemen! Our saving grace is almost here! In less than nine hours we will be relieved here! We’re almost there!”

Many of them express some sort of glee, though Rashad is quick to stop it in its tracks.

         “There is a likelihood that the enemy will learn of our attempts to escape alive. I want everyone here to remain vigilant and to be at their very best to hold this defensive. None of you have come all the way here, to die on this botched mission where you can get out!” Rashad warns them all.

There we are, less than an hour till support arrives, we have received they are in schedule despite continuously engaging enemy forces. The sounds of war have ramped up lately. In my room where I kept watch, it was mainly composed of Spaniards that I was to watch over. I grip my rifle tightly, my arms aching slightly, and my head now moist of sweat. My heart beats, my lungs pump, my mind races. 

         “Contacts!” a soldier calls.

It would be no surprise, and yet it still is. Multiple rockets are being fired at us. I try to seek them out and prevent any more from being fired. I trace the smoke trail to one who is standing out in the open across the street. I aim carefully, two shots are shot, and he falls to the ground, I track another and do the same. Returning fire nears itself and forces me to hide.

         “How are you all holding up?” I ask the Spaniards.

         “We’re good!” Says one before being shocked by an incoming explosive nearby.

         “Kahill, do you read? Kahill?!” Rashad calls me over the comms.

         “Yes, I’m here Sergeant.”

         “The Enemy is attacking to our north and has broken through our western lines! They now have the ballroom! We're holding them off at the choke point at the lobby, but some may be going to the upper floors, get out of there with the Spaniards! I repeat, get out of there!”

“Good copy Rashad! Hey! We need to get going!”

Exiting the room, we come across a team of my men.

         “Lieutenant, this way!” They direct us.

Shots erupt from within the hallway, it’s some eight enemies.

         “Dang it, contacts on the third floor!” One soldier says.

         “Oi, wait, don’t run over here yet!” Another says to the Spaniard team.

As I shoot around the corner, I see an opportunity to get the Spanish team to assault the enemy. I try to think if it’s worth the shot.

         “Grenade!” Says a friendly, pulling me down to the floor.

A violent explosion gives me the answer of no.

         “Give them medicine!” I command the soldiers.

         “Yes sir!” two say.

The two soldiers throw together a pair of grenades. Two consecutive blats ring through the hallway.

         “Get over here now!” I beckon the Spaniards.

We all rush downstairs. The building shakes occasionally due to explosives. Such a pristine Hotel this was. We finally arrive at the Lobby. Almost all of the platoon was holding back the enemy at the choke point.

         “Junior Lieutenant Kahill, can you read us?” Says someone over the comms calmly.

         “Yes! This is Lieutenant Kahill, who is this?!” I try to yell over the gunshots.

`       “We are the armoured support unit, we are at your south east!”

I motion everyone to finally leave this place.

         “Squad Epsilon! Stay with me, cover the retreat!” Rashad orders.

         “Spaniards on me!” I command.

We all begin to flood out of the building, the friendly Armored Personnel Carriers awaited us in all of its glory. The Spaniards are quick to get inside, I wouldn’t blame them. I stay out to assure everyone got in while providing firing cover. Squad Epsilon finally leaves the building, with Rashad being the very last out.

         “C’mon, let's get outta here!” barks the APC’s commander barks. I’m dragged inside as Epsilon also makes it in. Rashad is only some metres away before a rocket blows up right in between us, almost on Rashad. for a moment, I can see only smoke. The vehicle's door closes without hesitation and speeds off, pings of bullets sounding off all around the vehicle, a few more explosions around us too.

         “Rashad!!!” I cry out.

Minutes into the ride home, I sat there quietly, jostled by the vehicle’s jumps, holding a blank stare at another soldier who did the same, as we all gripped our firearms.