Join Date: Sep 2011
Location: Ottawa Ontario
It's not as good as I hoped for but the broken hand kinda killed me.
The hot desert air hung dry and dusty inside the North Hope barracks. Just like the name suggests the barracks lays just north of the city called Hope. Unlike the name may lead you too believe, the city lacks what is in its name, hope. Many are suffering in Hope and many more will be suffering in the coming weeks. Hope has been a war torn city for over a year now, the old plaster buildings litter with bullet holes and has massive gaping holes in the walls from RPGs and missiles. Many buildings lay flattened from the relentless air strikes on the Canadian army. Despite Hope being located a little further then 5 kilometers from the ocean it rarely receives rain, resulting in a dusty atmosphere which adds to the death that hangs over the city.
“Please have Master Warrant Officer Garrison come to my office” said General Steele in to the intercom which connected to his secretary’s office. Steeles name suggests just like what he is like, made of steel. The aging military commander has broad shoulders and ripping muscles that threaten to tear his uniform at any moment. Steel is not a well liked person, but he is respected as a General for his countless successful missions that went against conventional tactics.
There was a knock on the door then a small man walked into the room. His brow slick from sweat and threatening to drip off of his round, boyish face at any moment. Sergeant Garrison is a small man in his mid forties, despite his age he still looks fresh out of military college. His ghostly white skin always burnt regardless of how much sun screen he uses. Garrison is not liked or respected by anybody in the army. He is known for being a brown noser to the higher ups, hence his rank.
Steele motioned at a chair for Garrison to sit down in. Garrison plopped down into that chair and let out a sigh; he grabbed his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
“You know I don’t like you” Steele began in a gravely voice. “But since I’m retiring next year I’m meant to teach you how to run this base.”
Garrison smiled and nodded.
“Now, I want you to be sure that I’m not doing this because I want to, but because I have too.” Steele continued.
“You can cou-“
Steele cut down his sentence with a glare that could’ve killed a small child.
“Your first mission is to take Hope, you have all the resources at this base at your disposal. I expect Hope to be in our complete control in 10 days, that’s not clearing the last of the houses for prisoners, I need every room in every building swept and every prisoner accounted for in 10 days time.”
Steele paused briefly to let that sink in then continued on.
“If you fail this mission, your career will fail also. Now get out of my sight”
Garrison stood up and gave a quick “sir” and walked to the door. Just before he left Steele told him his 10 days starts now.
Garrison strode into the barracks with his blood pumping in his ears and his head held high. He knew that he had to command respect from the soldiers if he was going to have a successful mission.
“Where is Sergeant Walkins?!” Garrison barked.
“Screw off Garrison” one soldier shouted back while laying in his bunk.
“Don’t you have some poo to sniff?” shouted another.
Garrisons face turned beet red, he took 3 deep breathes in order to clam himself and then he tried again.
“I didn’t ask for your smart-*** remarks, I want Walkins!”
He waited a moment, searching the large room. When nobody moved he yelled “Now!” at the top of his lungs causing a few guys to actually look up from what they were doing. Walkins got up off of his chair and walked towards Garrison, cracking his thick neck as he walked, swearing under his breath.
“Walkins!” yelled Garrison, in a voice much too loud since Walkins was right beside him. It was another feeble attempt to command respect from the troops.
“Follow me” Garrison finished.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming” Walkins mumbled and followed Garrison towards his office. As they walked, Walkins noticed that he was over a foot taller then the short plump man that scurried in front of him with his short legs. Despite Garrisons best attempts to intimidate Walkins it was clear Garrison was afraid of him. Not surprising either because Walkins is 6’ 5” and 300 pounds of pure muscle. In high school Walkins was able to dead lift over 300 pounds and could easily pound off 100 one armed push ups. Garrison wouldn’t be surprised if he could do almost double that now. His uniform is barely able to hold back his hulking muscles.
Garrisons office was freezing cold from having the small air conditioning unit blasting all day. Couple that with the setting of the sun and it made the room uncomfortably cold. Garrison sat behind his massive desk that made him look like a little school boy and motioned for Walkins to sit at a chair in front of his desk. Walkins ignored the little man that was the butt of all jokes in the barracks turned off the A/C unit with his massive hands. He walked back over to the chair and folded his muscular frame into it. Garrison folded his hands and leaned forward in his chair, his chair groaning under the shifted weight.
“You’re probably wondering why you’re here?” began Garrison, flashing a toothy smile, trying to be friendly but only succeed in making him look younger then he is.
“Probably for another one of your stupid assignments.” said Walkins in a huff, and annoyed at Garrison for taking up his time.
Well, as you know by now, I’m taking over the base next year-“
“Walkins cut him of by saying “Just tell me why I’m here so I can leave.” Walkins flexed him massive biceps to drive the point home.
“Fine, we will do it you way.” said Garrison, trying not to turn red. “We need to capture Hope in less then 10 days and I know how we are going to do it.”
“Just get on with this brilliant plan of yours.” Walkins said mockingly.
“Mount up boys!” Walkins yelled as he walked into the barracks. The 300 battle ready soldiers made their final equipment checks and headed to the loading areas where the Iron Stallions waited. The Iron Stallions are not horses; they are a modified armored trucks. They are the vehicles that replaced the Humvees. These massive vehicles can hold 5 soldiers and a ton of supplies the back of the vehicle. Every inch of the vehicle is armored to stop a 50 caliber bullet from point blank range and the cab can even stop some RPG shots. To move the Iron Stallion it is equipped with an 800 horse power twin turbo’d diesel engine capable of moving the Stallion at over 150 kilometers an hour, which is plenty for battle. On top of every Stallion sits a 50 caliber machine turret that can leave destruction in its wake.
“We move out in five minutes” Walkins said into the megaphone so he is heard by every member of his army.
In each Stallion five men sat. The driver was the leader of the squad inside the Stallion; he has the radio equipment necessary to communicate with other squad leaders in all of the other Stallions. He also has the ability to call upon the many drones that circle the city. The drones would be offering the fire support for this mission; they can easily destroy buildings in seconds and rain to lead from the sky that can stop even the bravest men in their tracks. In the passenger seat sat the medic. He does exactly what his name suggests; he heals the men in his squad. He is equipped with a large pack on his pack full of all the supplies he needs for the mission. Because of the extra load he carries a smaller M4 variant with a folding stock that can easily be made smaller incase he needs to heal somebody. Two people sit in the back seats while the other operates the machine on the top of the Stallion. In each squad there are two support gunners. One carries a large, belt fed machine while the other carries an assault rifle and lots of extra ammo for the gunner. One operates the machine gun while the other is sitting. The last member of the squad is a breach expert. He is always the first member into a house or room. He carries an under mounted grenade launcher or shotgun for blasting down doors. Each member in the team can do each others job but not as well, this way if one falls, another can take its place.
The Stallions head towards the city to do some damage. They need to crave a hole in the cities defenses and fight their way to the center of the city. From the center of the city they will slowly work their way out, taking down everybody as they go. It is a very unusual tactic but Garrison is trying to prove that he can use unorthodox tactics and make them work. Over top of the Stallions attack helicopter flew, they would assist the Stallions and drones in craving a path into the city. They were an impressive sight to see, 60 Iron Stallions with 12 attack helicopters over head and four drones already circling high above the city.
As the Stallions entered the city, every soldier’s senses were assaulted. The machine guns on the Stallions were blasting at everything that moved in the buildings, tearing holes in the old building walls and sending dust into the air. The muzzle flash was the size of a campfire as it rained bullets on everything that the man operating the gun set his sights on. The Canadian Forces weren’t the only force shooting at everything, the buildings shot back. The city population, Rag Heads as the soldiers called them, was expecting the attack and already had some defenses in place and was putting more in as every second passed. In almost every building Rag Heads had mounted guns set up and started raining lead down onto the Iron Stallions. The bullets hitting the Stallions bounced off of the heavily armored vehicles with nothing more then a “ping” and some sparks, the larger bullets denting the armor. Each bullet that hit glass formed a small spider web but couldn’t penetrate the thick glass. The soldiers inside the Stallions laughed as the bullets bounced off, it wasn’t a mocking laugh but a worried laugh knowing that if a Stallion goes down they are going to have to go into the open and face the fierce fire from all sides. But for now they were safe.
The helicopters up above had their gatlin guns going at full bore. The barrels spinning at speeds that blurred one barrel into the next. The muzzle flash would blind anybody dumb enough to look at it for too long. The shells rained down from the gun, threatening to burn anybody underneath them. Occasionally, a chopper would release a missile from its wings to down a building or take out an enemy vehicle. The pilots were being careful to stay high enough above the ground to avoid an RPG round; knowing what would happen if one hit the tail rotor.
The Rags Heads were used to the assaults, but they have never seen one this large. The experience with pervious assaults allowed them to set up their defenses in under five minutes. They made choke points and armored gun turrets, snipers were sent to top floors to pick off the gunners on the Stallions. RPG crews ran around the city, shooting the helicopters. The shots weren’t meant to be on target, only to keep the choppers at bay so they lose their effectiveness. The Rag Heads have teams of people moving throughout the city setting up road blocks, forcing the Stallions down one very narrow street, barely wide enough for the Stallions to fit through. This causes the Stallions to move slowly, making them an easy target for machine gun fire and rockets. The armor on the vehicles is quickly wearing down and failing.
“Walkins to all drones” Walkins shouted into the radio, over the sound of gunfire and the screams of wounded men in his Stallion.
“Go ahead, sir.” The drone pilot said.
“Blow up every building in front of us.” Walkins said desperately into the radio, trying to mask his fear from the men.
“This Garrison” Garrison cut into the radio transmission. “Do not shoot at any buildings pilot, I repeat, do not fire.”
“What are you thinking Garrison!” Yelled Walkins losing all composure. “Men will die if they do not fire! Our vehicles and being shot through! The armor is failing!”
“I don’t care; the drones are not to fire.” Garrison said calmly.
“Then I will hold you responsible for every death on this mission.” Walkins said, choking back tears, then cut the radio feed.
“Alright boys.” Walkins said into the radio, which broadcasted over to each leader in each vehicle. “Give ‘em hell, don’t hold back”
With that message, the air exploded with the sound of every machine gun opening fire at the Rag Heads. Plaster fell from the walls at an alarming rate, sometimes showing the wooden structure holding the building up below the plaster. The convey continued to head towards the city, and right into the Rag Heads plans.