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War Is Hell: Prologue: The Hard Way
Date: 2 April 2004, 11:54 AM
War Is Hell: Prologue: The Hard Way
In the early dawn was an eerie stillness. Nothing but the gentle rolling waves of Tritan Sea (formerly the Philippine Sea) and a distant chorus of mechanical hums. Life seemed normal to the casual eye, but look closer and things were far from normal.
The planet: Earth. The month and day: September 29th. Year: 2552.
The situation: the Covenant have discovered the location of Earth and have already begun to invade. Or more likely, reinforcements were being dropped from the cruisers and destroyers from the fleet above. The Tritan Sea, located between Japan and New Mombasa (formerly the Philippines), has a few islands scattered about its length, many of these currently occupied by Covenant forces. UNSC Marine base ALPHA-WHISKEY, located 45 miles of the coast of Japan, have orders to recapture a Covenant air base that, at one point, belonged to ALPHA-WHISKEY. If they succeed, the UNSC is one step closer to controlling the sea. Semper Fi.
************
Private Bart Skitch nervously gripped his Rat33 7.62mm Battle Rifle between slender fingers. His mission was clear as day: Pelican drop into the water two miles away, amphibian insurrection by boat, recapture the Covenant airfield. He had done similar missions many times before in the past, mainly dropping into a hot combat zone via Pelican. But it still made him nervous. He had no doubt that the other 200 men in First and Second Platoon were on edge as well. The remaining platoons of the two companies were farther back (maybe about three miles).
The old transport boats, rarely used in the UNSC, were actually antiques in new paint. The UNSC flag was painted on the port and starboard side of each ship, and the dull gray paint reacted with the current light and shadow conditions, making it harder to see in both low-light and daytime scenarios. Perfect for amphibian stealth missions such as this one.
The Squad Leader in this boat, Corporal Will Sherman, peered through a small peephole on the foreramp with his binoculars. The LZ was in sight: a sandy beach with various Covenant obstacles scattered about its length. Farther up the beach were two fortified bunkers (codenamed Fire-Eye 1 and Fire-Eye 2) with plasma turrents mounted and scanning their line of fire for hostiles. Grunts in their red and orange atmosphere replicators walked their patrol routes, Jackals with blue and yellow shields stared into the sky, and blue and maroon-armored Elites barked orders to the occasionally unruly maggots. Inside Fire-Eye 2, the eastern bunker was a gold-armored Elite surveying the beach and two Brutes as his guard. Those could be a problem.
Private Skitch instantly recalled his days at the Acadamey on Reach as an image of the ebach appeared on his HUD. This would be similar to Operation: Overlord (aka D-Day), the infamous invasion of Normandy, France that occured exactly 508 years ago. This would be a replica on a smaller scale.
"Five minutes to beach!" Corporal Sherman announced suddenly in his British accent.
A few seconds later, mortars began dropping all around the positions of First and Second Platoon. At first most of it was sloppily aimed but quickly tightened up. The boats began evasive manuevers. "Hang on!" the driver said as he dodged a wad of boiling purplish-pinkish plasma.
Corporal Sherman nearly lost his balance as he spotted a Covenant Banshee practically on top of them. Water splashed into the boat as another mortar exploded beside the transports.
"Hit the deck!" he screamed as he crouched behind the safety of the foreramp. "OPEN FIRE!"
As one, Third Squad opened fire on the Banshee's exposed belly, the pow pow and brap braps of Rat33s and Malkov28 SMGs overpowering to the flier and momentarily competeing with the crescendo of Covenant mortar bombs.
There was a flash of light and a crackle of sparks as the flaming and smoking Banshee plumeted into the sea behind the boat. Private Skitch clutched a handle as the waves, caused by the flier's drop, rocked the dropboat up and down.
"One minute to beach!" the driver yelled.
"Alright men!" Will stated. "You heard what the lieutenant said! Move up the beach, take cover, and watch your flanks. We have to capture those bunkers!" He paused and a plasma bomb covered up for him. Third Squad ducked their heads down.
"Thirty seconds to beach!"
By this time, fewer mortars were being lobbed at the fleet of First and Second Platoon, but now the Covenant forces on the beach opened fire with their plasma weapons. Fortunately, the plasma turrents in the fortified bunkers stood down.
Right before the fleet carrying Alpha Company's First and Second Platoon hit the beach D-Day style, a mortar hit a boat at the back of the fleet. Everyone was either dead or too baddly wounded to move. It started to sink to the bottom of the Tritan Sea, and the fallen Marine comrades drifting calmly before disappearing as though they never existed.
"Clear the ramp!" the driver screamed. He mashed a button, as did the other drivers, and the ramps lowered to the sand.
"Hit it Marines! Go Go GO!!" Platoon Sergeant Matthew Pillar barked on First Platoon's frequency, whom he commanded. The other sergeant, Sergeant Adrian Payne, gave the same mantra to Second Platoon.
The plan was easier said then done: First and Second of Alpha spearheaded the invasion while Third and Fourth of A and the four platoons of Bravo Company hung back as reinforcements. According to intel and hidden recon satelites, the air field (the mission priority) was heavily guarded and reinforced. The Covenant task force guarding the base was between 700-800 alone. The LZ contained, roughly, 100-130 foes. If nessacary, Alpha could call in Warthogs and possibily a Scorpion tank or two. Adding in the reinforcements, the Marines had a two to one advantage over the Covenant.
The plasma turrents opened fire as 180 men stormed up the beach, blasting Covie forces with Rat33 Battle Rifles and Malkov28 sub-machine guns. An overcharged plasma pistol blast partially burned away Private Skitch's cover. He hid it behind it, crouched and heart pounding, before popping out and firing at a charging Grunt. The Grunt tripped and fell flat on his face as his breathing apparatus fizzed out methane and sky-blue blood sprayed out as the gizmo failed to work.
He watched, briefly, a Marine charge up the beach only to be mysteriously beheaded. A glowing blue two-pronged sword floating in mid-air, searching for more targets to kill. Skitch had an idea of what it was.
AN invisible swordsman, Skitch thought. If there's one, there's bound to be more. Damn it...
TO BE CONTINUED...
War Is Hell: Chapter 1: Getting Across
Date: 25 April 2004, 1:01 PM
War Is Hell: Chapter 1: Getting Across
"Everyone switch on your thermal vision!" Sergeant Pillar said on the platoon frequency. "There may be invisible swordsmen."
No one needed to reply. The Marines instantly flipped on thermal vision. Skitch's vision, greatly enhanced due to the setting sun because of low-lighting, made it possible to see exactly where the Elite swordsmen could be. He spotted it heading for another Marine shooting a Jackal. His FOF tag read: Private Gerard.
"Gerard, get down!" he said. Gerard, some feet away, dived to the ground as Bart, with his back against the half-burnt emplacement, aimed and fired his Rat33 with one hand.
The Elite spun around as three 9.96mm rounds smashed into his unprotected chest. Private Gerard fired his Malkov SMG and brought the best down un a pool of purple-black blood. Skitch counted to three, then dashed from cover and up the beach until he, Corporal Sherman, and a half-dozen men from Alpha's First and Second Platoons, were prone on a tall sand dune. They were covered up so well that the bunkers couldn't overlook them.
Corporal Sherman was first to speak. "Okay, Marines, listen up! The reinforcements are arriving soon. We need to take these bunkers so we at least stand a chance when we hit the airfi--"
A plasma mortar landed less then a foot away from the boiling, urainium-powered fence. "Go go go! Up and over, ladies!!" No words were said, but the order was carried out. As much as forty men made it over the wall and up against the purple bunker wall. The reinforcements arrived, boosting the Marine numbers to 1,000+ men. The remaining squads of A Company's First and Second Platoons were making there way over the wall. Since the forces were split up evenly, this confused the Covenant forces and made them think twice about which force to fire upon.
This invasion is exactly like D-Day, was the thought on every Marine's mind right at this very moment.
Field Master Ibanuree 'Tosolva stood in what those filthy maggots referred to as Fire-Eye 2. What a disgraceful name for a marvelous structure of this size and power. The moonlight cast an illuminating glow through the narrow opening of the bunker, reflecting off his polished golden armor. He walked over between the two plasma turrents, his two Brute body guards standing at rigid attention. 'Tosalva surveyed the battlezone with sharp, ghostly, neon eyes. Two Grunts manned each turrent. One of them, a pathetic warrior by the name of Gorg, was concentrating his line of fine on the humans farther back.
"Gorg! What the hell are you doing?!" 'Tosolva exclaimed gutterally.
The little Grunt jumped from the sudden interruption. "K-k-killing Infidels, Y-Y-Your Greatness!"
'Tolsalva became annoyed. "You're killing the wrong humans! Shoot the ones coming over the wall! Do it now!"
"Aiieee!!" Gorg screamed and he quickly mashed down the triggers of his plasma turrent, unleashing a barrage of purple light on the maggots coming over the wall.
"Good. Just don't let it happen again, okay? Trega, Hukra, let's go. We need to get to the airfield to set up defenses. Move out!"
The two Brutes nodded, raised their weapons, and followed the Field Master as he ran out of the bunker.
"GO! GO! Across the minefield, dam--ARGGGHH!!" Corporal Aaron Smart screamed as he stepped on a Covenant landmine, throwing him a few feet forward and blowing his left leg off from the top of the knee cap and down. He started convulsing uncontrolably, blood leaking out of his severed stump and staining the sand. Private Bart Skitch, racing for cover with many other Marines, grabbed Corporal Smart's arm and hefted him onto his shoulders. "It'll be alright Corporal!" he yelled over the plasma blasts and bullets.
It was a bitter dash for life. There had only been one casuality, and that had been Aaron. The first nine men who had gotten over were safely within the cover of walls of concrete. Fortunately, a medic had been among the nine and he worked on Corporal Smart. Everyone else crowded around, watching. Smart was a great man to many, a woman charmer, but right now he was fighting death itself.
"C'mon, Corporal, you can make it!"
"It'll be alright! You'll get through this!"
Aaron's eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale, and his convulsing began to decrease. The medic, using a pair of surgeon's scissors, dug around in the mess of blackened muscle tissue and severed veins looking for bits of plasmatic shrapnel. Once he spotted one, he quickly yet carefully worked at prying it out as his fellow Marines kept uttering phrases of hope.
But it was no use. The man's eyes spun back into his head as his body ceased to exist. "Damn it, he died from shock..." the medic said, putting the scissors into his ruck-sack.
Will Sherman and the rest of the Marines stood. "We can't let a single casualty get to us! We have a mission that needs to be completed! Let's move out!"
Bart reloaded his Battle Rifle, slapping a 30-round magazine into place. After sliding the bolt back, he gazed up at Fire-Eye 1 and the barrage of blue, pink, and purple plasma emanating from it. The screams of Marine warcrys and the shouts of orders roared over the ever-increasing chaos. The private made a quick, mental prayer, then followed Corporal Sherman's lead as the squad of nine pushed their way into Fire-Eye 2.
TO BE CONTINUED...
War Is Hell: Chapter 2: Rub Out
Date: 3 May 2004, 11:12 AM
War Is Hell: Chapter 2: Rub Out
(A/N: Okay, I know I've screwed up on some references in the last two chapters based on MCC's comments. In this one, I'll fix the Elite's name, etc. Not to mention everything else I can. Hope you enjoy!)
Hand-to-hand combat was something Bart Skitch didn't really enjoy. Nor did he particularly swallow the thought of close-quarters fighting. Combining the two made for something horribly painful to think about and somehow carry out into action. He bandished the thought from his head and snapped his thoughts to the current structure he was in. It was purple and pink, standard Covie colors, with steam pipes and valves running along the walls and into the ceiling. One of his friends once wondered if the Covenant were gay. Bart had laughed and replied, "It wouldn't surprise me."
The nine-man squad observed radio silence, not wanting to telegraph their position to the Covenant. But it seemed to be that the Covenant weren't using com lines either. So the Marines did it the old-fashioned way; they used hand signals.
Private Mark Girana held his hand up, signaling the squad to pause. He put his back to one side of the hallway and peeked around. The corridor wasn't small nor particularly large. He peeked his head out slightly, and quickly hid behind it; he had almost been spotted by a Jackal.
"Four Jackals, one Elite, seven Grunts," he whispered. Corporal Sherman nodded and made a horizontal slash gesture in the air. He also noted a pressurized door on the other side of the intersecting hallways. Private Girana, his dark skin beginning to sweat, nodded in return, priming a frag grenade. He pulled the pin, counted to three, and launched it around the corner.
One of the minor Jackals turned to his left and looked at the floor. Its features blossomed with surprise as the foreign object exploded in his face, erasing his life, and threw the dead body three feet south of where it originally had been, purple blood smearing a trial across the floor. The Marines all rolled out from behind cover and opened fire with their wide variety of weapons; three Rats, two MA5Bs, three pistols, and one Malkov SMG. The differences of the ammo (9.96mm, 7.62mm, 12.7mm, and 5mm) made some of the enemies fall more quickly then others. Private Skitch squeezed the trigger two times, six rounds flying towards a Jackal and a Grunt, both flipping backwards and dying at once.
Only three Jackals and four Grunts were dead. The remaining assortment of those creatures were hiding behind cover. The Elite was popping out from cover, firing his plasma rifle, and ducking back whenever his shields flared. He popped out again and fire a quick, three shot burst. He managed to hit Private Girana right around his left thigh. He yelped in response and surprise, limping over to the over side of the hallway to crouch behind the wall.
"Let's go!" Will screamed. "Get through the blast door!" The Marines were attempting to disengage, firing as the last man got behind the safety of the wall. Bart put Mark's arm around his shoulder and helped carried him to the other side of the blast door, taking fire from the pursuing alien bastards, not suffering any hits. The brain boy of this squad, the one whom was working on locking the door, was having trouble. "Damn it, c'mon! You piece of shit!"
They watched from behind as a Jackal over-charged his plasma pistol and discharged it at the two Marines.
Field Master Tosolva 'Ibanuree dashed from cover to cover, as did his Brute body guard, Hukra. One of the maggot snipers had loped off Trega before his eyes with one of their putrid 14.5mm armor-piercing fin-stabalized discrading-sabot rounds that could kill two of his own kind, the bullet going through one and into the other. It sickened him and it worried him. Half of one of their platoons was giving chase to him. It had actually been his own fault that they were chasing them; he had walked out from behind cover, extremely cautious that something would happen. If it hadn't been for the moonlight glimer on a bush ten yards away from him, the Field Master wouldn't have caught the hint of crystal-clear sniper scope. He ducked down right as he was about to be shot, the white contrail flashing by his head in a split-second and severing Trega's head from his torso.
Then Hukra and 'Ibanuree had high-tailed it, going deeper into the misty jungle forest on this island. As they kept running, sniper rounds whizzing by them occasionally, they came upon a familiar landmark; one of his army's trip-wires. He and Hukra hopped over it and knew they were close to the airfield. They continued running...
A glowing green sphere of plasma kept getting closer and closer...then Skitch heard a metal CLANG behind him and heard the plasma bolt splash into something metal. He glanced over his shoulder, allowing Private Mark Girana to sit down against the wall closest to him, and saw that the blast doors had shut and locked extremely tight. Mark unclipped his thigh's armor plate and rolled his pant leg up.
He took a glance at his wound. The burns were somewhere between first and second degree but leaned more towards first degree. The skin was charred black that glowed a faint red. Three slithers of blood ran down at seperate places on the wound. Mark wasn't in shock, he knew he was going to be hit; he just didn't dodge in time. The squad's medic crouched next to the wounded Marine, looking over it himself and making a mental analysis of his condition. He pulled out a small bottle from his pack, and squeezed bio-foam into the three and half inch wound. He pulled out white linen dressings and applied a tight layer of them over his thigh. Mark pulled his pant leg up and clipped his blackened armor plate back on. Damn, he thought, that burst of plasma burned through my armor. I got lucky. Really damn lucky. He hadn't realized he sighed aloud. Using his Battle Rifle as sort of crutch, he got to his feet.
Once the squad reassembled, all was silent. They heard the unmistakeable sounds of Shade plasma turrents firing from what seemed like one level above. The floor plans for this bunker confirmed that there was a staircase nearby that led to a second floor. Corporal Sherman moved his right arm up and down twice as though it were chopping something; it indicated to move toward the door leading to the staircase. He made a gesture to approach it and then made a cutting gesture.
Private Lon McGarth and Lance Corporal Wallis Jackson were ordered to breach the door. It was an old-school tactic, invented by the counter-terrorist team Rainbow Six, that involved standing beside a door, opening it and throwing a flash-bang grenade in and then rushing in while any enemy inside was disorientated. The tactic, rarely used in Marine and ODST operations, would finally come out from the attic after of not being used for over three hundred years.
Private McGarth slammed his large foot into the Covenant door, quickly shuffling himself to the left side while Corporal Jackson primed a flash-bang and tossed it in. The rest of the squad took cover from the white flash around the corner. It exploded, a bright flash of light shooting toward the wall that faced the door. They all charged in at once, up the stairs, alert for possible Grunts, Jackals, Elites...or worse...Brutes or Hunters. They encountered none.
Private Skitch was first to reach the door at the top of the stairs, which only led up one more level since the bunker was two stories high. He opened it, sweeping his Battle Rifle from side to side. He found himself in a short hallway, the measurements 24 feet by 12 feet according to the bunker schematics, that dead-ended in front of him at the end. Directly to his right was a type of door, most likely a Human door. At least this part of the bunker remained the same, he thought.
He opened the door slightly, peeking around, and he saw a Grunt manning one of the plasma turrents. He was sure another was manning the other one. He gestured to the squad with his head. Corporal Sherman nodded, giving him the okay. Bart opened the door and it swung back. No one heard it because of the bullets and plasma. He was startled to discover that an Elite Major was manning the other turrent on the right...
Slowly, the darkness of the night was giving away to the reds and yellows of dawn. At 0530 hours, Alpha Company and Bravo Company will have been engaged in almost constant combat for 24 hours. The rolling waves surrounding the island were gentle, with no plasma mortars rising the temperature of the water. Everything seemed to be calm. And in less then five minutes, a squad made up of men from 1st and 2nd Platoon, Alpha Company, 4th Marine Battalion, 11th Regiment will have done what was needed to re-capture the beach.
Corporal William Sherman manuevered his way towards the door. He glanced around, then quickly hid behind the door frame, his face that of panic. It was brief though.
"Okay, on the count of three, you hang around and shoot the Grunt while I stick a plasma grenade to the Elite. After the grenade goes off, I'll have Private Daniel Gibbs snipe the other Covenant in Fire-Eye 1. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Skitch whispered in replied. Private Gibbs gave the thumbs-up.
Bart Skitch reloaded his Battle Rifle as Private Gibbs moved up alongside Sherman, wielding his S2 AM sniper rifle like it was an instrument of a god. "One."
The corporal digged around in his grenade satchel for one of the blue orbs. He pushed a button in the middle and it powered up. "Two."
The two men shifted position, ready to begin the attack. "Three..." He paused a split-second. "GO!"
Private Skitch exploded from cover and unloaded four bullets into the Grunt, causing him to spin around wildly as the Shade turrent ceased to fucntion. At the same time Will threw the plasma grenade at the maroon-colored alien commander, his aim deadly accurate. He didn't bother to watch the fireworks. He swiftly grabbed the door handle and closed it just so he wouldn't be engulfed by the radiation. Three seconds, a cross between a bang and boom echoed inside the enclosed space. The Marine opened the door again (and was greeted to a shower of purple blood), himself running through the door, followed by Daniel and Bart.
"If anyone comes up here, give us covering fire," Skitch said on the squad-wide radio link.
"Yes, sir," they replied in unison.
Quick as a cheetah, Private Gibbs was an artist painting extraordinary masterpieces of death. As the old saying went, "One shot, one kill." He moved with the precision of a machine, firing his four-round clip in four seconds before reloading. It looked as if an endless wave of Covenant were lined up across the way inside Fire-Eye 1, as more kept coming. But after ten minutes of shooting and one clip of ammo left, the Marines had recaptured the bunkers.
Choruses of cheers, whoops, and "hell yeahs" filled the all-hands channel. It was broken up by the deep, thunderous voice of the commander of this operation, the voice of Captain Samuel Riley.
"Alright, Marines. This was a damned good job you all pulled off. My special thanks goes to the nine-man squad, led by Corporal Will Sherman, who were responsible for silencing the plasma turrents." He paused. "Now, listen up. The rest of the battalion will be landing tomorrow. For now, we dig in. Make a solid permiter as best you can. Get a bite to eat and sleep as well. Because sleep and food can sometimes be a long way away. We regroup at the beginning of the forest that stretchs out and ends at the edge of the airfield. A plan of attack will be made once Lieutenant Colonel Polarky and the rest of the battalion gets here. That's all, men. Captain Riley out."
TO BE CONTINUED...
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