Author's Note: I wasn't sure where to post this, Soldat Moments or Soldat Fan Art. I know, stories aren't really your standard artform, but one could certainly argue that storytelling is a form of art. That said: if a moderator feels it better suited in another forum, feel free to move it
Anyway, I got a little bit bored tonight and was in a writing mood for the first time in awhile now. It's certainly not my best work, but I enjoyed writing it, at least, and I hope you all enjoy reading it.
Now... onto the story!
I keep telling myself,
"This is hell," and yet there's no place I'd rather be.
My brothers stand beside me, each one of them ready to die for the other. It is our strength, our desire to push forward... it is that which keeps us moving. We're not ready to die--
especially not here, so far away from home. I look to my left, at the determined face of a man I'd not even known a year before. A man who, right now, was closer to me then my own family back home.
The gunshots were already ringing over the horizon... we knew we would have to move soon, for they'd be on us at any second. Our uniforms, tattered and torn from days of battle, were testimonies themselves of the things we had gone through. The hell we had faced, and had somehow came back from.
Today was the day... the final battle. The last push. The grand finale.
And, like so many things, it started with a 'bang'.
I could see up the hill, in the distance, as I peeked my head out over the trench we'd all hidden ourselves in. We were ready to ambush the oncoming squad, ready to gain an advantage as quick as we could... but it seemed our enemies had came prepared. A young man stood atop the hill, looking aimlessly out to the world before him.
He was a scout... and he was looking for us. It wouldn't surprise me if artillery was waiting behind him-- we'd overcome their M72s before, though. They didn't frighten us.
"Scout," came a hushed whisper from my lips, and a whisper was all my brothers would need. One of us stood, calmly, and lifted his weapon.
*KRACK-KAW!*
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The shot rang out through the air as the bullet from his M8 tore through the scout's head. It was a cold, casual act, and the scout was dead before his mind had even registered the soldier who'd just stood up downhill from him, sniper rifle in-hand.
In an instant, we prepared ourselves. A group of four soldiers, clad in blue, erupted from behind the wall that protected them. I barely glimpsed a fifth as he made his way up to the window on the second floor of the building, sniper rifle in-hand. If we were to push forward quick enough to gain a substantial advantage, we would have to take him down.
"
GO! GO! GO!" came the cries of my brothers, each one of us pushing ourselves up from the trench, taking the oncoming enemies head-on. Bullets tore through the air, blood showering the dry ground beneath our feet. The very ground that had drank its share of blood for many days now was thirsty for more, and we were all too happy to give it what it wished.
Their commander was the first of them to fall, a well-placed round from my brother's Ruger blazing a hole through his brain. The MP5 rattled in my hands as it tore through one of the soldiers on their way down the hill, their own AK-74 blazing towards me. I felt a single round enter my shoulder before the soldier finally dropped, his weapon clattering downhill ahead of him.
*BOOM! CH-CHACK! BOOM! CH-CHACK!*
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It was a simple process for my other brother: fire, reload, fire, reload... a process that came naturally to him after so much practice. His SPAS-12 Shotgun ripped through the first of two soldiers who were nearly upon him. Then, sensing how fast the second soldier was approaching, my brother readied his ultimate weapon.
The roar of his chainsaw was the last thing that soldier would ever hear, his body cut in two the instant he tried to take my brother down.
*KRACK-KAW!*
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...
God, no.
He fell to a knee, and the cloud of blood from the impact of the bullet was all we'd needed to know what had happened. In an instant, there was an incredible explosion at the window of the building, as another brother of mine let his cannon fire, the round from his M79 detonating on impact and, within seconds, erasing the sniper from existence.
Yet we'd been too late... already, we were suffering our first casualty of the day. My brother was laying, gasping for air, as the chainsaw hummed softly beside his body.
"No-one left behind" they say, yet today... we had no time to waste. There were five of us left, and only one a certified field medic. He would have to stay behind to attend to our brother's wound... leaving four of us to take on the next wave of our enemy.
Our game plan was fleshed out in less than 10 seconds; any longer, and it would have been too late by the time we'd reached the building. Like pistons, our legs were pumping with mechanical efficiency as we scaled the hillside, pushing our way into the building. My brother, rifle in hand, set himself upstairs at the window on the opposite side of the building as we ran under him and out to the other end of the building.
I knew what was about to come, and so instinctively, I withdrew my M72 and readied it to fire. My other two brothers ducked down, further downhill from me, and I let the hand of God rain down on those blue fecktards on their way towards us.
*BOOOOOOOOOM!*
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The explosion must have ripped through at least three of the oncoming soldiers, but it was only lethal enough to take two of them down. The third stood, smoke billowing out around him, a Desert Eagle in each hand. This one would be trouble... I could see it in the way he handled himself out there, despite everything he'd just gone through. He was their weapon, their beast... the one who would not give in, even when a shower of bullets fell around him.
He would be my target, my adversary... my kill.
My brothers broke out around me, their weapons firing at the men who stood behind this Deagle-wielding madman. He screamed at the top of his lungs, rushing forward through barbwire and corpses, his arms raised high. I stood my ground, clip in-hand... waiting for the right moment to strike.
This man... this would-be soldier had degenerated into nothing short of a mad dog. His shots, sloppy and far off-target; the closest he'd get to shooting me falling five feet short. I stood my ground, still, as my brothers ripped through the men who'd came running around him. Still I waited, watching as the others fell, until he was the only man left.
Standing, with an empty clip, and a wide-eyed look upon his face.
I fired my weapon. He left this world. We pushed forward yet again.
The field was ahead of us now, the building now long behind us and a new one fast approaching. Barbwire stood tall, threatening us on our approach. I dropped into a trench, taking advantage of the health center inside of it. Two of my brothers rushed out in front of me, one stayed behind with his rifle. I watched, and waited... knowing my place in this upcoming battle.
The element of surprise had to be on my side.
Screams of pain erupted from the open windows of the building, my brothers ripping through them with ease. We were systematic, pure-bred killing machines... and our target was just within arm's reach now. We couldn't stop here.
"
AAAARRRGGGHHH!"
My eyes widened at the familiarity of the voice. One of us had been stopped before they could get out of the building, and judging by the horrific sound of a revving chainsaw... I could only guess what their fate had become.
"
MAN DOWN!" came my cry, "
MAN DOWN!"
I stood, and saw my second brother fall to the crazed man's chainsaw, his eyes locking with mine from inside the building. He was their human shield... our enemies had readied for the worst, and now two of my brothers were lying dead on the other side of this building that stood before me. I could feel it building, the rage... the white-hot hatred that bubbled up like bile from down below. My hands trembled as they held my MP5 steady, my eyes never leaving the man's eyes.
"
Leave this to me."
Two brothers dead... just as two more returned. Our medic had done well, patching up the wound from the M8's round in our brother. I could tell he was still a wreck, though, and wasn't long for this world. He didn't come back expecting to return home... he came back for revenge: to help us make our final push.
He proudly revved his own chainsaw, and the crazed man who had brought down two of our own realized he was staring into the eyes of the devil himself. My brother, overtaken with rage and sorrow for the loss of his own, and for the things these people had done to him... gave his death cry as he charged.
The crazed man's allies never realized what was happening by the time they'd came up behind him for support. Blood, guts, gore... the poor man's chainsaw stood no chance against my brother's, as he pushed through three soldiers, one-by-one, each of their entrails littering the ground as their screams filled the air.
My two remaining brothers and I rushed through the building, behind him, and we made our final push. Before us stood two soldiers... and behind them, four more slowly rose from the shadows.
It hardly seemed fair for them.
My brother's screams never silenced, as he continued on over the rickety bridge that ran over top our objective, looking to take on the soldiers ahead of us. I dove down into the trench, hearing the sounds of one soldier being ripped clear in half by a chainsaw, my brother sadistically laughing even as a barrage of bullets ripped through his body, robbing what little life remained within.
The medic dove in with me, accompanying me as I plucked their flag from the ground. My brother overhead held the remaining five back with his sniper rifle, blasting two of them down and wounding a third who, as the medic and I resurfaced from the trench, was easily taken down by the medic's handgun. I dove through the entrance to the building and took off running, never looking back. I could hear the final cry of my brother, his sniper rifle falling to the blood-soaked earth as round after round of automatic fire ripped through his body. The medic stayed behind, ready for one final stand, and I could hear as he took one down with him.
Now I ran, a lone survivor from a band of brothers, their flag in hand. I
knew... I just knew, if I could only bring this flag back to our base... the battle would end, and the war would be ours. Yet I couldn't shake the dread that followed me: there was one survivor from their side remaining, and lord knows he was running just as fast as he could to hunt me down.
It was one on one... and the fate of the battle between our two armies would fall on our shoulders. I checked my MP5, making certain I had a full clip. Running was no longer an option... with my back to the enemy, they could easily rip me down. No... I would have to turn and face the reaper himself.
My enemy wasted little time coming out from the building atop the hill as I stood, waiting, at the bottom of the hillside. He stopped, staring at me, his own weapon in-hand. I studied the weapon... it looked like he would have the advantage at this distance: a Steyr AUG was his choice. I quickly dropped behind the barbwire-crossed wall, closing my eyes as I listened to round after round tear into the barrier at my back. The firing ceased for a moment and I knew my enemy was coming down on me, so I took the only chance left I had.
Leaping to my feet, I spun to face the enemy and let loose all my weapon let me have. It was a move meant to both injure and startle my enemy into retreat, but instead he stood his ground... taking half the rounds before dropping to the ground, the rest of the bullets harmlessly ricocheting off the ground behind him.
I lowered my weapon... was it finally over? Slowly I turned, limping my way back home.
Soon, our own building came into view, then our own trench, with our flag proudly waving below. I had lost five brothers on this mission for victory... but they hadn't died in vain. I had done it, I had made it back with our key to victory.
"
End of the line, mate."
Oh,
Christ, you have to be kidding me
...!I spun around, staring face-to-face with the end of a Steyr AUG, my battered and bloody enemy standing before me with a glare set in his eyes. As quick as my body would let me, I dove out of the way, barely avoiding getting shot in the head. The soldier quickly corrected his aim and fired down on me, and the unbearable ripping pain of the rounds shredding through my skin overwhelmed my body.
"It's...
over." the soldier gasped, exhaustedly, as his clip ran dry.
I could only smile... how true those words were. It took him a second before he noticed the grenade pin fall from my fingers, and he realized there was nowhere left to run.
Acting purely on instinct, I rolled my dying body as hard as I could to my left, falling into the trench and rolling down its side as I heard the soldier's screams fill the air before my grenade blew his body clear over the trench, smoke and fire exploding outward overhead. I just kept rolling, holding tight to the flag in my arms, knowing that it was taking every ounce of life left within me just to keep holding on.
I came to a stop... and the flag vanished, absorbed into our own.
The soldier was right, there was no doubting it was finally over; however, I'm sure he didn't expect it to end quite like this.
I let a laugh escape my tired lips. My job here was done. After all the pain, after all the suffering... I couldn't ask for a better ending to our tale. Gloryhill was conquered... and there was just one thing left for me to do.
I keep telling myself,
"It's been hell," and yet I don't regret a single moment.
My fallen brothers...
I'm coming home.
Darkness.
