1700 HOURS.
TUESDAY, 14 AUGUST 2112.
BANNU, PAKISTAN.
“-That attack in Las Angeles, did you know anyone?”
Gently opening his eyes, Mike took a moment to adjust. He shook his head and looked around, the sun had begun the process of falling into the horizon to give way to the night sky, but the streetlights masked the stars and moonlight that had yet to appear in full force. He blinked several times, his hands squeezed in and out letting blood flow through his body. His eyes scanned through the goggles over them. He read the information presented to him through his Heads-Up Display (HUD), and tried to get comfortable in the unpleasant seat he sat in.
“Sergeant Randall, you got your ears on?”
Mike let out a short cough, “Y-Yeah,” His voice was scratchy, and his throat was dry, “I—no. I don’t know if anyone I know was in California at the time.”
It took him a short moment, but the person that was speaking to him was Zachary Malkovich. The sergeant was seemingly bored, and it just so seemed that he chose his counterpart in the squadron to bug. Mike couldn’t blame him, between the pause at the border, to the long stretches of time spent just driving through Pakistan would bore anyone. The only thing that kept the men on their toes and alert was the person overseeing their mission to Peshawar, General of the Army Kennedy Adams. The five-star general had received orders from the President himself to take command of the operation rather than the entire campaign. Such a job was to be delegated to lower commanding officers, especially their mission, which should’ve been handled by an officer within Army Special Operations Command or Joint Special Operations Command. Having someone that delt with world politics as his war overseeing such a small, seemingly insignificant mission was puzzling at best and alarming at worst. Operation Silver Strike was a go, and the top were watching everyone as they moved on the playing board.
“I see.” Malkovich seemed pleased at the answer Mike provided. “We’re going after one of the guys that attacked the US. Just remember that while we’re on the ground, I don’t want to see another sergeant lose their head because of that.” The burly man’s warning was clear to his fellow sergeant.
“Got it.” Mike said before switching off his Personal Communications (PERCOM).
Staring at the conditions of his fireteam, Mike let out a steady breath, this conflict would be the last thing he would participate in before getting out of the army. A light headache grew as he rested his helmet-covered head against the window next to him. The late evening sun burned over the arid grounds and the distant city skylines. What was happening was more than the most basic form of gunboat diplomacy. Though it was labeled as an ‘invasion’ by powers in western Europe, the mission here was to stabilize a terrorized region and flex the muscles of the coalition forces within Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Africa. The United States was the spearhead, the other countries made up the support units which were just as important as the heavy hitters. They would be responsible for rebuilding and fixing everything the US broke in the counter-insurgency campaign.
Those present, the ground pounders of SOF, infantry, and air units were doing the heavy lifting each second, they spent driving. Navy SEAL teams had been deployed to hot zones all over the country with the most dangerous area being the city of Lahore. Deploying eight fireteams, the navy aimed to investigate a known terrorist operation within the city. From what Mike knew the mission had complications due to it being conducted under the cover of a large storm that flooded most of the city. Other units pulled similar missions and JSOC had recently extracted three Green Beret ODAs with the assistance of local Pakistani troops.
Rubbing his gloved hand over his face, Mike let out a short yawn as he forced himself to stay awake. He turned his head scanning his fellow occupants in the vehicle he traveled in: Andrew, Green, Anthony, and PFC Jason Jackson. The dire situation in the Ranger battalions had prevented units deployed from being at full strength. Many platoons had a mix-match of those that survived the last war, and even five years later some squadrons still were left behind as the battalions aimed to refill their ranks. Bravo Company, second platoon, second squad. His squadron were supposed to be refit within the coming months, yet here he was in a predicate where they had more experienced leaders than they had field-competent, younger soldiers.
Grasping the tube of his hydration pack, Mike bit the rubber piece and slowly drank the cool water within. It relieved some of the pain that had built up in his head, but he was soon distracted by a voice that called out to him.
“Sarge!” Turning his head while adjusting the sling attached to his M-5 carbine, Mike looked at Anthony.
“What is it, Richard?” He asked in a low voice, “You aren’t about to start spewing over the mistake you made during joint training?” Mike wiped his mouth as he settled himself.
“Ah, no,” The man became flustered, “I was just about to ask if it’s another few hours until we reach Peshawar, correct?”
“Yup, just another few hours. We’re taking the highway straight to the city. I would consider yourself lucky enough to not get tied up with the resistance happening in Lahore, though I wouldn’t put all bets on not getting shot on the way up.”
Anthony, “At least the Chinese won’t be getting involved in this shit show. Can’t imagine what it would be like to have all this fighting going on so close to their border, hell, the activity from our planes alone is probably making them freak out.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.” Andrew cut in. He was currently driving the vehicle, something that other squadrons found odd, and he kept his eyes on the lead vehicle which the others rode in. “The Chinese are dealing with a full-on coup started by some navy admiral. Apparently, they might try to reinstate the previous President.”
“Fuck.”
Only the hum of the truck’s engines remained a constant as Mike and the other Rangers disengaged from the conversation. Leaning to his right and peering out the front windshield, the sergeant saw several vehicles, pick-up trucks owned by the Pakistani army, lined up on the highway at a make-shift checkpoint. Their weapons were lowered but held in war-torn hands ready to be raised at any moment. The speed the US convoy moved at slowed considerably as the commanding officer at the checkpoint raised a hand signaling for the drivers to slow. Both the Marines and Rangers tensed as they slowly came to a stop.
“Lieutenant, we have a situation here, stand by.” Captain Oliver’s voice played over team-communications (TEAMCOM). He seemed annoyed at the current predicament that he had just dragged everyone into, but he remained his cool as he opened his door and stepped outside along with Jackson.
“We got you covered.” Devlin responded keeping his hands on the wheel.
“Something going on?” Green murmured gripping his carbine slightly tighter.
“Sergeant, get on the ground and cover him, I’ll keep the engine running.”
“Yup. Green.” Mike said as his hand found the handle to his door. Stepping outside, Mike felt the warm air clash against the cool winds as he stepped onto the semi-barren highway. A state of national emergency had been declared and martial law was enforced to prevent any untimely and unfortunate civilian casualties. Standing on the asphalt, a Marine fireteam had dismounted and stepped forward behind Thompson and Jackson. They provided the muscle and made sure that the Pakistani army didn’t try anything. The alliance in place was official, yet some units held hesitation to cooperating with people they once called foes. The situation could very well deteriorate within mere seconds.
Jacob stood next to Mike with his hands firmly holding his rifle. He shuffled nervously in place and remained near the rear of the vehicle. The Pakistani troops were comprised of what looked to be a platoon’s worth of army soldiers and a squadron of border guards that had been integrated into the defense that lined the highway.
Captain Oliver spoke in half-fluent Arabic with the men. From what Mike gathered from the body mannerisms and language that the men shared, it seemed the untimely stop was nothing more than a misunderstanding as tensions between the Marines and troopers slowly faded as they all stood around clearly annoyed by the situation their superiors had thrown them into.
“Bravo two-six, Overlord. Satellites have you stopped on the highway, is there a problem?”
“Overlord, this is Bravo two-two. We were stopped at a Pakistani checkpoint, no hostilities, but we are awaiting clearance to move forward, over.” Lieutenant Devlin responded in place of the captain.
“Get through, out.”
Breathing quietly Jacob whispered, “Something’s not right.” His voice was mired with concern and suspicion, something that Mike couldn’t do anything to ease the tension within the young Private. The sergeant let out a soft hum as he acknowledged the boy’s words. Scanning the horizon to his left, a myriad of different colored cars passed by at an intermediate pace. Beyond that the spanning deserts, coated in an orange glow from the setting sun distracted Mike as he peered off into the great distance that would soon be covered by the advent of night.
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“Hey Sarge.”
“What—”
Like the screaming of thunder, a sudden explosion erupted form the right side of the checkpoint. Dust and debris flew in the air and sparks rained down from above onto the asphalt highway. What was shot up from the ground quickly formed a large cloud over the immediate area coating the road in darkness in the large shadow that followed. The heat and pressure of the explosion slammed into all nearby persons including Mike and Green who were only semi-protected from the blast wave due to standing behind the armored vehicle they arrived in moments before.
Heaving as he tried to adjust to the sudden ringing in his ears, Mike blinked as he shook his head and quickly leaned against the armored vehicle. “Green!” He cried, throat burning. Within seconds his headphones began to pick up the report of rifles being fired. Looking around frantically he spotted his rifle sitting next to him, the sling detached. He grasped it and stood up gaining a sense of direction, then he slowly moved alongside the vehicle.
“Contact! Contact! Lots of bad guys!”
“They’ve got thermals! Thermals!”
Hearing the shouts of the Marines, Mike soon worked his way through the dust cloud and broke out to see a small fireteam of Marines engaging the unknown enemy. The team returned fire from behind a Pakistani truck and as soon as Mike approached the four a Marine crumbled to the ground as a bullet ripped through the air and crashed into his body. He let out a blood-curdling scream as he shifted on the ground grasping for his chest and thinking quickly, Mike grasped the man’s carry handle and pulled him behind the front of the truck.
“You up?” Mike shouted.
“Plate took it! I’m up!” The Marine howled as he took a moment to breathe.
Cracks. That’s what the gunshots sounded like from the distance they were being shot at, and the whistling of bullets above proved that the enemy that was ambushing the Americans and Pakistani forces were more than a capable fighting force. The use of thermal imaging sights made Mike curious, thus, when he looked over the side of the truck, he wasn’t completely taken aback by the cloud of smoke separating the two forces.
Grasping his radio and checking to make sure it still worked, Mike activated his TEAMCOM as he hailed Devlin, “Lt! We need a call for fire!”
“On it!”
“Marines! Hold tight! Relief will be here soon!”
“Oorah!” Some Marines chanted.
“Rah!” Some Marines bellowed.
Perring from cover with his rifle in line with his body, Mike and the Marines fired their weapons into the smoke. On any normal day this would be considered a dumb move considering the lack of thermal imaging optics, but with he calls being made by the Pakistani forces that were used to this type of warfare, they were able to direct fire long enough for the large group to prevent any more casualties among their ranks.
“—Confirm strike designation by laze. Stand by for fire.”
“Confirm designation of strike area by laser designator, stand by for fire.”
“Be advised danger close, recommend anti-personnel munitions.”
“Be advised danger close, switching to high-explosive munitions for anti-personnel fire.”
“Send it.”
“Shot out. T-Minus five seconds.”
Playing like an erratic and broken metronome, a tempo of gunfire was exchanged between both sides. Being able to gather enough cover, the Marines, Rangers, and Pakistani troops were able to form a shield form the bullets that flew at them and the several high-explosive rockets that rained from afar. Mike worked alongside the Marine fireteam he had found upon recovering from the initial blast, and he led them in place of their dead sergeant who laid no more than twenty feet away. The way they fought wasn’t perfect, by no means were the Marines and army trained the same, but they were able to effectively provide enough covering fire for Pakistani grenadiers to return hellfire in force.
Ripping off his assault bag, Mike suddenly froze as he heard a sharp noise grow from behind him. The noise grew insatiably loud within a single second until it impacted into the ground and ruptured into a resounding boom that shook him to the core. With the last of the sun’s rays reaching the Earth, the sergeant looked at the now scattered and evaporated smoke clouds. He could see the destruction caused by the single round, and before he had a chance to react, cheers erupted from the Marines and then were soon drowned out as two more shells impacted the fields silencing the opposition that sat afar. Three dust clouds kicked up and as he stared into the darkness, he could spot four squirters sprinting away.
“Fucking excellent shot, eight hostiles killed in action!” Lieutenant Devlin’s voice grew sharp as he walked over with his fireteam of Rangers. Mike beamed at the excited smile the lieutenant had on his face as he knelt beside the Marines with Corporal Ramirez moving to assist the man who had been shot.
“Our pleasure. Out.”
Just like that, the ambush had ended within the span of four minutes.
“Holy fuck that was an IED. Fucking-A on the arty boys!” A Marine happily said as he stood up from behind the car. Following behind the young ‘Hell Dog’, Mike and the other Rangers quickly moved to secure a perimeter around the checkpoint as Pakistani troops quickly moved to tend to their wounded. Only three Americans were injured in any fashion, primarily light bruising and other wounds, and the Pakistanis had four killed and two more critically wounded.
“Rangers, rally on me!” Bellowing over the confusion, Thompson’s voice was clear as he moved to gather his men to the lead vehicle.
Walking over in an orderly fashion, the twelve Rangers circled around the captain, their eyes peeling to the distant skyline and fields. Each of them was still weary of the firefight that had just happened, and their minds were yet to be at ease due to the tense situation that was taken advantage of by hostile forces.
“Listen up! We need to be on the move in five! Pakistani troops took most of the casualties, but unfortunately, we have to move on to make the timetable that was given to us. I don’t like this situation any more than the man next to me, but it’s critical that we carry out this mission, understood?” With the silent nods the Rangers provided and Mike mouthing, “Yessir”, the mission would be continued even with this very deadly, minor setback.
Being ordered to return to the vehicles, Mike clambered up the side of the truck. His eyes quietly scanned over a spiderweb-like fracture in the window next to his seat. Looking over the interior, two more fractures laid on the side windows. The ballistic glass had prevented anything on the inside from being damages, yet it cut off visibility.
“Fuck man. That 7.62?” Ramirez chimed as he noticed the damage done to the vehicle.
“Whatever it is, thankfully it wasn’t enough to punch through the glass.” Richard responded followed by a light whistle. His gloved hand traced the fracture. “Looks like the glass would’ve saved us if we were still in the vehicle. I wouldn’t want to lose my head today.” He said to nobody.
“Consider ourselves lucky that we weren’t hit by that IED or one of those RPGs. We’d be screwed if we were taken out of the game this early.” Lieutenant Devlin chuckled.
“No problem out here, LT.”
Shortly communicating with the Marines that piled back in their vehicles, the convoy once more moved down the highway through the clouds of smoke and ash caused by the primary IED that initiated the ambush. Silence fell over the men as the convoy passed by the sprawling deserts and fields. On the other side of the highway, some civilians had stopped, they were ignoring curfew and they stood watching with their cell phones out as the Americans passed by at a rapid pace.
Mike’s eyes fell upon a group of teenagers. His hand gripped the pistol grip of his carbine tightly. He felt uneasy conducting a mission in such a volatile environment; its today’s world civilians willingly put themselves in harm’s way. During the new age and new development of technology, common sense had been thrown out the window, and the orders that came from HIGHCOM didn’t relive any pressure from the soldiers on the ground as they called for “no civilian casualties” and “the priority focus of evacuating and treating civilians.” The rules made sense, going into such a heavily populated area, let alone country would call for surgically planned missions rather than open bombing runs.
Yet here he was in the “Red Zone”. It was an area designated by HIGHCOM to be the most dangerous area within the country considering its proximity to the capital city of Pakistan.
“The Marine’s mission is to prevent any crazy Jihadist fucker from getting out of the city, right?” Anthony spoke up breaking the silence, “So why are we still doing containment? I don’t understand why we aren’t apart of one of the strike teams that will be hitting targets throughout Peshawar.”
“Marines have orders to work along the 1st ID. We are here to set up a cordon to make sure no squirters escape.” Green followed up.
“Hmm. Doesn’t Jihadist mean something like fighting?” Richard asked eliciting a response from the sergeant in the back.
“The definition is more closely related to the action of fighting the enemies of Islam rather than any sole individual or organization.” Mike said with a small smirk, “But modern-day culture has turned it into a description of someone who fights for Islam rather than the action itself.”
“So, were working alongside Islamic fighters and possibly terrorists? And then we end up fighting Islamic terrorists. We could be possibly working alongside individuals that could have ties to the shitholes who attacked us on 9-11.”
“That was Al-Quade, not the Pakistani government.” Jacob interjected.
“Yeah, but didn’t they help Bin Laden escape Afghanistan all the back then? That’s why Seal Team Six crossed the border to whack his ass in the first place.”
“Well, DEVGRU sure made a show that night.”
Letting out a light sigh, Andrew looked towards the lead vehicle in the convoy. His hands gripped the steering wheel and he calmed himself as he thought of a way to get the other Rangers to quiet down, “Hey pipe down! Just remember we’re working with the good Jihadists right now, and I don’t want you to compare the average grunt to terrorists.”
His eyes dashed to the darkened sky, “Activate your NODs, and possibly some shut eye.”
Following the lieutenant’s orders, the men went back to silence as they began to activate their night-vision enhanced goggles that already sat over their eyes. Mike did the same. The darkened interior of the vehicle was all he could see outside of the HUD painted on the goggles he wore. Reaching his gloved left hand and pressing a button on the side of his goggles, the surrounding area was illuminated in a gentle green light, and his eyes adjusted through the phosphorus-based filter to see into the darkness.
Looking behind him, Mike could barely see the fading checkpoint. He bit his tongue and turned back in his seat grasping his water bladder to drink the room-temperature water once more.
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Publicly Available Information: Situation Report 1 — Operation Silver Strike, the international military mission to secure the nation of Pakistan:
Operation Silver Strike (OSS) is the U.S. military’s operational name for the international response and U.S. led coalition forces into Pakistan against FMPP. Made up of ground and airborne forces from India, Russia, Japan, South Korea, Indonesia, and the Philippines, the operation is primarily handled by American and Russian forces while the rest provide support of local allies such as the Pakistani armed forces and the Pakistani Joint Defense Forces (PJDF). Combat ground troops, those from the U.S. Army’s 1st Infantry Division, 10th Division, 3rd Armored Division, and amongst special forces and special operation forces, over 15,000 troops have been deployed.
Drawing from the previous UN-African conflict less than ten years ago, the U.S. has been primarily concerned with the stability of the middle east, primarily the protection of critical assets throughout the area. Along with the growing support of Afghanistan organizations, and the Afghanistan government providing monetary and physical aid to militant groups throughout the region, the Unites States added the FMPP to the international terrorist list. The primary response upheld by the coalition forces has been heavily criticized by the United Nations, and the UN Security Council has once more gathered to discuss possible retaliatory actions against the U.S. and Russia.