War is like a disease, transmitted by the blood spilled by warriors on the battlefield.
I feel the storm that is coming.
.....
Afghanistan, March 17, 2020, 11:47 PM
Private "Alexanders Blanzk", alias "B.Jes".
....
I was running as fast as I could while tightly gripping an AK-74 assault rifle I had taken from an insurgent corpse after all the ammunition for my standard-issue M16 ran out, forcing me to drop it and pick up this old communist-made contraption to defend myself.
I was currently heading to the last stronghold we had left. The insurgents had launched a surprise attack out of nowhere in the middle of the night, and they kept coming in large numbers.
Just an hour ago, everything was too quiet and silent.
The insurgent presence in this area was supposed to be almost non-existent, thanks to weeks of effort to push them out.
We had used the time we had in this brief period of calm to rest. God knows these guys needed it as much as I did.
Unfortunately, nothing good lasts forever, as we had no idea the insurgents were actually regrouping to launch a large-scale direct counterattack.
Out of nowhere, they arrived in groups, catching us off guard, and they ended up killing many of my comrades.
It all happened so fast. One moment I was asleep, the next I was awakened by the sound of gunfire. I barely had time to grab my standard-issue M16A4 rifle and make a run for the central command.
I don't know if my other platoon mates were as lucky as me to have time to escape, or if they died in the crossfire.
Or, God forbid, were captured by a radical extremist group—that's on the list of "the worst things that can happen to someone."
So much so that I'd rather put a bullet in my own head than be captured. It's a merciful fate compared to the things that could happen to me as a prisoner of the extremist insurgents.
The sound of gunfire between the insurgents and the rest of the battalion echoed throughout the village, reverberating with the distinctive sounds of Kalashnikov and M16 rifles.
Behind me, I could hear people shouting in some Arabic dialect, which I didn't understand at all. Beyond my native language, my English can barely be considered "passable."
And although I didn't know what they were saying, I had a feeling it was something close to "kill that bitch before he escapes!"
That, or probably some prayer to Allah before they go kamikaze and blow up on me.
Though it's most likely both.
There's also the fact that they were shooting at me every moment, and the only reason I'm still alive and not part of the future body count is because I'm taking cover behind the walls of the very narrow alleys I'm running through, and because the area's size prevents them from maneuvering their AKs properly.
When you think your life is shit, you just have to take a look at mine to feel truly lucky.
You see, lately I've had what you'd call the worst streak of bad luck in my life. Weeks after turning 18, I was chosen by the system to fulfill mandatory military service in my country.
It was nothing out of the ordinary. I received the standard training of a common soldier, the same routine over and over again during training. I just had to get through this shit for a couple of years and then get out to live my life normally as a decent citizen.
However, one might wonder, what could go wrong with all this?
Well, yes, it really turned out worse than I could have imagined.
Just before finishing my first year, I discovered that, apparently, there's a lottery where 1 in 20 would be sent to participate in a certain region where Uncle Sam was known to be stuck in a war not long ago.
And it turns out that my country's government is one of his closest allies, willing to help him, and I had the bad luck of having my name put on the list of individuals who might or might not die tomorrow at the hands of an insurgent terrorist.
When I heard the news of my upcoming trip, I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
It's not that I have anything against the people sent to this place; I have a lot of respect and admiration for them. They are heroes who give their lives for their comrades and watch out for each other day after day in a godforsaken place.
But that doesn't mean I'm willing to go through this kind of thing, and no one in their right mind wants to go fight a war for a country that has nothing to do with them.
Especially since my concerns were more than truly well-founded.
I could die at any moment and all my plans for this life would go down the toilet!
At best, I could end up crippled for life.
I was a young 19-year-old guy, for God's sake. I had a life ahead of me, and going to war wasn't exactly in my plans, especially for a country that had nothing to do with me.
Call me a coward, but I'm someone who truly values their life and would never have agreed to come voluntarily to a place like this. Instead, I would have deserted and fled to the farthest corner possible.
It's better to be a live cowardly deserter than a motionless, inert body in the middle of a foreign country you've only heard terrible things about, where your corpse would be kicked and treated like trash by the enemy.
Especially when it's a radical terrorist group like the extremists.
War isn't something to be taken lightly, as it's not like it's portrayed in movies or video games.
In real life, it's a thousand times worse. People die every day, families lose a loved one, the population where the fighting takes place suffers the direct impact of war. A single stray bullet and I could say goodbye to this world, or if I'm not careful, I could step on a mine and my body would be torn to pieces.
Anyway, let's continue. Time flew by and we were already here, occasionally doing patrol duties and interacting with the local population, with nothing out of the ordinary.
You know, the same Uncle Sam bullshit of "preserving the peace and stability of the region" because the local armed forces aren't trained well enough to face these insurgents alone.
I'd bet that if the foreign military presence disappeared overnight, the whole country would be taken over by insurgent forces in a matter of hours.
That's how serious the situation is here.
All this while we have to adapt to this new schedule, not to mention the region's suffocating heat wave, which is only made worse by the amount of gear we have to carry on our uniforms at all times.
This routine only lasted a few weeks before we were reassigned to a different place, near one of the strategic points of the US command.
Everything was wonderful before it all went down the drain with the surprise counterattack by the insurgent forces.
And that's the end of my little story in this godforsaken place, running for my life through the alleys of a war-torn village while fleeing my pursuers.
My situation only went from bad to worse. I had run several blocks through alleys, lost communication with the rest of my unit, killing the occasional insurgent I managed to catch off guard, or simply sneaking away enough to avoid detection and being killed on the spot.
I was only a few blocks away, really close, but the path I was taking had many more obstacles but was safer than the option of going directly through the streets, which would be faster but also more dangerous.
Why didn't I take that path?
That's a quick and simple answer.
I wasn't risking going out into the open!
If I've learned anything from playing Battlefield, it's that in front of an open field there's always a damn "camper" waiting for the right moment for his next victim to enter his line of sight to take them down.
God knows how many matches I've lost and how many times I've gotten angry because of these kinds of rats.
That, and the number of bodies lying on the ground in the middle of the street is a solid reason to stay on the path I was on.
I had been running for a good while, and as a result, at some point I was forced to find a suitable place among all these rubble to catch even a small breath.
So I did. I went inside a structure that was once part of a house, checking every corner for any "unwanted surprises," like a hidden explosive, hidden traps, or a hidden enemy.
Many compatriots have lost their lives due to this kind of carelessness, so I was going to be as careful as possible if I didn't want to die from any of these causes.
And my paranoia proved to be rewarded, as upon entering the structure, I noticed that in the corridor leading to the backyard there was a small wire tied to a grenade, waiting for the moment some unfortunate soul would trip over it and end up exploding.
I clearly recognized this type of trap; it's a classic straight out of the Vietnam War.
As for what I did with the explosive when I saw it?
Well, I didn't deactivate it and left it as it was. Better they blow themselves up, as they usually do.
And with the sound of footsteps becoming clearer every moment, I was more than clear that I was going to use one of their own traps against them.
A very dirty tactic, but I don't mind using these kinds of methods, even those that could be considered crimes, if my life is in danger, everything counts.
So I proceeded with my improvised plan and hid behind a wall, covering my ears to protect them from the loud blast that would be caused by the resulting explosion.
All while waiting for the moment they would be stunned by the explosion so I could open fire and kill them all.
Faster than I thought possible, the footsteps grew louder. As soon as they opened the door and entered, two of the five insurgents crossed directly through the corridor. One of the two broke the wire connecting the explosive with his leg.
The result?
Click
"Ahhhhh!"
One of the insurgents screamed in panic when he got a "little" surprise. His companion tried to push him to the ground in an attempt to save most of his friend.
Unfortunately for both, it was already too late.
BOOM!
The explosive detonated instantly. The explosion and the shockwave were more than enough to kill them both. A bunch of shrapnel fragments was sent flying in all directions, wounding some of their companions who couldn't get to safety in time.
I was sure I saw a couple of limbs thrown into the air. I suppose the bodies of the unfortunate ones probably now look like a Slasher had paid them a little visit.
When the blast happened, I quickly grabbed "my" weapon and peeked around the corner towards the rest of the enemies.
I quickly positioned the weapon and aimed at the insurgents, squeezing the trigger as fast as I could.
Soon, a burst of 5.45x39mm projectiles was unleashed towards the insurgents, taking down the still-stunned extremists.
Their bodies fell to the ground dead, with several bullet holes and some wounds caused by the shrapnel from the grenade detonation.
When the ambush was over, I stood staring at the place where the corpses of those I had coldly killed lay.
A long time ago, I would never have imagined myself in a position where I would have to kill another human being.
Unfortunately, war tends to change people, and under the constant pressure and stress I've had to endure lately, I had been forced to get used to this kind of thing.
Even if these subjects are scum of the radical extremist type, with ideologies so ingrained within themselves that they are beyond salvation.
That didn't change the fact that they were human beings. Scum, but human beings nonetheless, with families waiting for them somewhere who would probably never see them again.
And I was going to carry this kind of thing with me for the rest of my life, all as a product of war.
I shook my head to displace those thoughts elsewhere. There was no time to lose, so I threw my weapon on the ground, which was out of ammo, and quickly picked up two AKS-74Us from the ground along with all the ammunition magazines I could, and then I started running. The explosion and the gunshots had probably already attracted the attention of other insurgents in the nearby area.
I looked at both assault rifles I held in both hands in what a gamer would recognize as a "dual wield" position, recalling what I could from the information I had about this type of weapon.
The Soviet AK-74 or AKM assault rifle, often confused worldwide with its older and obsolete version, the AK-47, is a "modernized" and "updated" version of the famous Soviet-origin assault rifle, employing a 5.45mm caliber that is much smaller but more effective than the previous 7.62mm, demonstrating superior efficiency and effectiveness compared to its outdated predecessor, along with a very considerable reduction in the weapon's recoil.
The variant I had at that moment was the short version of the weapon, the AKS-74U, a carbine type with its typical shorter barrel and folding stock.
Its caliber, the Russian 5.45mm, had firepower and effectiveness that left almost nothing to envy from the standard American 5.56mm I was accustomed to.
A masterpiece of communist military engineering during the Cold War era, and it's also probably a contraption that may or may not be older than my grandfather.
A while back, I had my old reliable standard-issue M16A4 that I was most accustomed to, but unfortunately, it had jammed and I had almost no ammunition left, so I was forced to ditch it and work with what I had at hand.
At least the time I spent playing over 20 hours straight of Call of Duty Modern Warfare multiplayer had been useful, especially when I did everything possible to maintain my streak by picking up another weapon from the ground when my own weapon ran out.
With all the determination I could muster, I increased my speed and headed in the direction where the rest of my team was gathered.
Then I ran with two carbines in hand, killing every insurgent who was close enough or distracted enough to be eliminated safely.
As long as I was extremely careful; I'm not some kind of supersoldier, nor am I bulletproof.
I'm just a normal human being, for whom a single well-placed shot would be enough to take me down.
....
Every breath I took, one after another, grew heavier. The steps I took while running became more forced, without even taking a small moment to rest.
But I couldn't. I didn't have the time, and I couldn't afford to because my life was in so much danger.
I had been pushing my body more and more, and since my destination was getting closer and closer, the effort would be completely worth it.
My body wanted to stop from such abuse, but I refused to fall. I had been using all my willpower not to faint on the ground.
You know, if you've never felt what it's like to be under the effects of adrenaline, let me tell you it's as if I suddenly perceived the world in slow motion. My senses expanded to levels I normally couldn't reach, along with the feeling of my heart beating much faster.
It was a stimulating sensation, but when it ended, boy, it felt like I had been through a training marathon 10 times in a row.
And probably the worst marathon I had ever had in my life.
That's how bad I felt after pushing my body a little beyond human limits for the last hour, doing everything possible to survive.
I urgently needed a short rest, or I would probably end up fainting from exhaustion.
And in a place like this, that means certain death.
Fortunately, I managed to reach the rally point on time. When they saw me arrive, a couple of men came out to assist me and help me walk properly, as the fatigue was starting to affect me too much.
The insurgents hadn't reached this part of the village yet, so I could take a rest before they attacked this part of the area.
When the men with uniforms and equipment similar to mine got close enough, I recognized them.
How could I not? These men were the guys I had been surviving with in this shitty Middle Eastern hole.
One of them, the one on my left with his rifle supporting me on his shoulder, was Sergeant Michael "Mike" Decker, a 44-year-old guy we affectionately nicknamed "The Old Man," a hardened veteran who had served in Iraq and a tough guy when it came to staying calm at all times.
The other, supporting me on my right shoulder, a young African-American looking guy, was Jhonathan "Jhon" Myers, only 3 years older than me, someone I could easily call a clown, a bastard who loves to joke about anything, but beyond that, the guy knew what he was doing and had the balls to go in with a shotgun to clear a room full of insurgents. He also had that attitude of seeing the positive side of things, even in a moment like this.
There were two other men who weren't escorting us, holding their M16A4 assault rifles in case insurgents showed up.
A guy of Latino descent, Antonio "Tony" Ramírez, 28 years old, his father was an illegal immigrant in the United States. He's not the kind of person you'd call outstanding beyond talking about what he would do once his service in this place was over. Also, of all of us besides the Old Man, he has a family waiting for him at home with a child on the way. His sharp eyesight had saved our skins on more than one particular occasion.
Finally, the one with a serious expression is Sae Ho Min, of South Korean origin, 23 years old, naturalized American. The bastards here nicknamed him "Chino" (Chinaman). He's the kind of person who has a good head on his shoulders among this band of idiots and someone you could almost call the intellectual of the group. Usually, when there's almost nothing to do, you always find him carefully analyzing every part of the barracks reports.
"Damn it Jes, you look too pale. We leave you for a second and you come back looking almost like a corpse," said Jhon, trying to lighten the mood, to which I could only respond with a snort at his comment.
"And you haven't changed much either, Jhon. You're still just as much of an idiot as always," I replied in a sarcastic tone, causing him to let out a quick "tch" at the provocation I had thrown.
"It was to be expected. I'm starting to feel like leaving you lying here on the ground so you stop being an asshole," Jhon replied in a tone that sounded like he was seriously considering carrying out such an action.
"I suggest you don't do that, or else you'd have to deal with me and the rest of the superiors when all this is over," scolded the Old Man, shutting both of us up in the process. "As for you, Private, I feel more at ease knowing we wouldn't have to find your remains piece by piece," he finished in a much more relaxed tone, but that last part would have made me pale.
"As expected, these two idiots will never stop acting like children even at a time like this," said Chino to the other escort, Tony, who nodded at his companion's wise words.
Everything proceeded calmly from this point. We arrived at a communications building, where they had barricaded themselves and were resisting as much as they could so far.
Once I was taken inside, I was greeted by the terrible sight that reflected how badly we were doing here.
The atmosphere was too tense. The recent attack and the casualties we had suffered had been too much.
As I was carried through the hallways, I could see all the mess there was: rubble, bloodstains on the floor and walls, bullet casings, ammunition boxes thrown on the ground, and empty magazines scattered everywhere.
Not to mention the wounded, who were positioned along the walls being treated by all the medics and those volunteers with medical knowledge who were doing everything they could.
I could see how among the wounded there were a few who were so pale from blood loss caused by gunshot wounds. Probably most of these guys wouldn't survive unless reinforcements arrived.
Those who could still fight had already gone to take up positions at different points in the building.
The occasional soldier came and went through the hallways, with bags full of ammunition and explosives, distributing them among all the fighters.
They quickly took me to a small room where they placed me in a chair to rest during this relative peace, as it would soon be over and combat would resume.
"Kid, try to get some rest. We'll probably need you later," the Sergeant spoke as he and the rest of the team went somewhere.
Immediately, the fatigue finally overwhelmed me, and I ended up closing my eyes, resting even if only for a small moment. I didn't know if this could be my last moment of respite in this life.
....
I have a dream, something important to me, those beautiful memories of my childhood with my mother in the countryside. It goes away when I wake up.
BOOM!
"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"
I guess there's no time for dreams.
Less than 20 minutes had passed when suddenly the alarms sounded, followed closely by the sounds of explosions from outside.
"Everyone to your posts!"
I woke up abruptly from my rest, feeling a little better. Not much, but it had been more than enough to regain some energy.
I quickly grabbed my equipment as best I could: ballistic helmet, Kevlar vest, ballistic protective glasses, and a small M11 pistol from the table next to where I was resting peacefully.
After that, I headed to where they kept the weapons. I wasn't going to risk being caught with just a small pistol.
I needed more firepower than a little 9mm.
So I set off to go there, running through every hallway until I found the place where they stored the weaponry, looking for a more suitable weapon.
I urgently needed a bigger weapon than the small pistol I had with me.
Besides, I needed the fucking big weapon they had stored here if we were to have even a small chance of getting out of this alive.
Once I arrived, I saw how the whole place was packed with ammunition boxes and various M16 Assault Rifles and multiple M4 Carbines placed on different shelves along with their ammunition magazines.
However, there was one object in this place that had caught my attention among all this pile of stuff.
An FN SCAR-H combat rifle, caliber 7.62x51mm. Its heavy ammunition and great impact power had been very well received by the team's marksmen.
And it was among all this pile of weapons, waiting for the moment to be used to take down all these Muslim terrorists who were attacking us right now.
I had been assigned this type of weapon before, and I had found it much more comfortable to use than the standardized AR-15 platform found in M4 Carbines and M16 Assault Rifles, or the old Kalashnikovs lying around gathering dust.
It wasn't my own weapon, that was for sure, as it lacked the up to 6x optical sight and the homemade suppressor I had put on mine.
Instead, it only had an ACOG-type sight with up to 4x magnification, along with a vertical foregrip and a small bipod attached under the barrel.
Without saying a word, I quickly grabbed it along with several 20-round magazines, taking 5 of them with me—100 extra rounds of ammunition in total, aside from what was already loaded in the weapon.
Then I went to join the rest of the group. There was no more time to waste at this moment.
....
A few minutes later, I managed to reunite with the rest of my team, and we immediately went to the second floor, where most of the soldiers were battling the insurgents, determined to hold out as long as necessary.
The sounds of gunshots became more frequent and louder as we got closer to where we needed to be.
On the way, we could see how some soldiers were going in the opposite direction from where we came, carrying another wounded comrade while taking him to a medic for treatment.
And when we finally arrived, I saw how the others were firing through the windows, returning fire to the aggressors, only occasionally taking cover against the walls when they needed to reload their weapons.
I held my weapon tighter and approached one of the windows, ready to return the favor to these bastards.
I aim and fire my weapon, occasionally taking down one insurgent or another who was in sight.
BANG!
One, the shot hit an insurgent in the abdomen, who was running towards the entrance.
BANG!
Another shot left my weapon; the bullet ended up in the head of one of those shooting from the building across the street.
BANG!
This time I had missed; he managed to take cover in time, narrowly avoiding a shot to his shoulder.
This went on for a good while, taking down everyone I could. At some point, I also missed a shot now and then, but since I arrived, I had started to notice that their numbers didn't seem to decrease.
No matter how much we did to last, the problem was that when I killed one of them, two more appeared to take their place.
They were coming in too many numbers and were starting to overwhelm us more and more with each moment.
I crouched on the ground, switching to magazine number 3. A good while had passed, and the situation didn't seem to be changing at this moment.
"Where are they all coming from?!" one of the soldiers next to me shouted in frustration.
"No idea! They probably come from the sewer network. I heard they used them to hide or carry out surprise attacks," shouted one of the other soldiers, who crouched down as he prepared to reload his weapon.
I just took my weapon, putting my best focus on killing everyone I could.
"Shit!! They got Lester!" the cry of another soldier was heard, who left his post and dragged the aforementioned "Lester" backwards.
I took cover when my weapon ran out of ammunition, quickly switching to my fourth magazine.
"DOWN! RPG!"
The sudden shout made us stop what we were doing, and immediately we all did what we could to try to protect ourselves.
I moved as far away from the window as possible and threw myself to the ground. Then came the sound of something coming at high speed, and immediately an explosion occurred.
BOOM!!!
The wall where I had been before was blown apart by the blast. I felt my eardrums almost burst. My body hit the ground hard, leaving me completely stunned and somewhat sore.
I could barely react. I suddenly felt a grip on my body, and then they started dragging me towards the hallways.
A soldier started gesturing to me, pointing towards the end of the hallways, where soldiers were coming and going at high speed, saying something I couldn't understand properly due to the loud ringing in my ears, and then he returned to the other fighters.
I could only nod slowly with my head.
I got up and walked supporting myself with the walls, recovering from my daze with each step I took.
Upon reaching a corner, I was stopped by a group of 7 men who were running somewhere towards the rear of the building we were in.
"Kid, we have to go," one of the soldiers said, whom I could only assume was the highest ranking.
"What's happening?" I asked, following the group as they went down to the first floor.
"We've been ordered to 'plug' the back entrance. It seems the extremists have found another route to enter, and too many are getting in," he explained as we exited and entered a small alley. The rest began to open fire on every insurgent visible in sight. "If we don't do something now, they'll overwhelm us even more, and we won't be able to hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive." He then pointed the rest of the group towards the street, where you could see the open entrance to the sewers.
More shots rang out. We advanced slowly through the place, taking down the occasional insurgent along the way.
....
A few minutes later, after breaking through resistance from the insurgent forces, we were already inside the sewers.
I expected the disgusting smell of human waste in the tunnels, but it seems the sewer system had started to be built in the 30s but was postponed due to the outbreak of the Second World War.
Therefore, this site was left unfinished, serving as a temporary shelter for a lot of people in this region, and clearly the insurgents made greater use of this site.
The whole place was much larger than I could have imagined, with corridors spacious enough to allow almost 100 people to live here without any problem.
A noise snapped me out of my thoughts when Soldier 'Ryan' and Soldier 'Bill' finished arming the explosives.
They were determined to blow up this part of the tunnels and thus cut off one of the routes the insurgents had to get there much faster.
Once we had entered, we didn't find much resistance inside the tunnels at first, but once we reached the nexus that connected to the main streets closest to the communications building, all hell broke loose.
We had to use a large part of the fragmentation grenades, flashbangs, and grenade launcher shots to break through the extremist defenses in a safer way without being exposed to enemy fire.
"That's it, that's all," said one of the soldiers, getting up from the ground and handing a detonator to Major Bradley.
The explosives were placed in places where they couldn't be easily spotted, as we didn't want to risk them being disarmed, which is why it took them much longer to arm them.
"Good, let's all get out of here!" the Major ordered everyone, and each of us began to slowly retreat, with some of the soldiers providing covering fire, shooting at the insurgents who began to come in numbers like cattle to the slaughter.
The fact that the space in this place was much smaller turned out to be a great disadvantage for their numbers, falling one after another on the bodies of their fallen comrades.
But it also turned out to be a big problem for us. If a grenade were to explode near us, the fragments would bounce off the walls and ceiling, a too evident risk of which we were all too aware.
When we were finally about to leave this place, we entered an area that the insurgents had previously used as a base camp, which was much larger than the other sewer areas. It was then that the Major was shot in the forehead, his body falling to the floor with a dull thud.
This made most of us stop dead in our tracks.
Immediately, hell broke loose throughout the place.
Shots ringing out, the smell of gunpowder in the air, screams and more screams were heard throughout the room.
"MAN DOWN!"
"Provide covering fire!"
I quickly positioned myself behind a wall. With sufficiently safe cover, I took my weapon and immediately began to open fire, and soon I emptied the entire magazine into these Muslims.
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"
Click
Shouted one of the soldiers, who took out a grenade and threw it towards the extremists.
BOOM!!
A small explosion, several insurgents dead, but that doesn't mean this was completely over.
It's just a brief respite.
"SOMEONE RETRIEVE THAT DETONATOR NOW!"
Shouted one of the guys.
I was the one closest to the Major when he was killed, so I ran as fast as I could and took the explosives' detonator from the Major's corpse.
"I've got it!" I shouted to the rest of my team, quickly starting to run towards the exit as fast as possible.
The rest of the team followed right behind me, following my steps. There was nothing more to do in a place like this beyond escaping.
I switched to my last magazine, with the weapon ready to kill more insurgents, and quickened my pace.
The exit was close; I could see it in the distance.
Just a few more meters ahead and this whole nightmare would finally be over once and for all.
"Let's go! THIS WAY!" I shouted. The others advanced with the same determination that possessed me at that moment.
Unfortunately, as with everything in this world, it's not all roses.
Just as we turned a corner, we had run into several insurgents who were entering through the exit.
And one of them was crazy enough to be aiming a fucking rocket launcher inside such a confined space as this.
"RPG!"
"Get down!"
"SHIT!"
Were the cries of anguish from the soldiers. I myself shared that feeling with them.
I could only watch helplessly as the projectile was fired and flew in slow motion in our direction.
Ah, shit.
Closer and closer. Some opened fire when they could, others managed to get to safety. One of them had already thrown a grenade towards the extremists.
So this is how it ends, isn't it?
I was pushed hard several meters against the ground by one of my comrades, falling on my back.
But unfortunately, it wasn't far enough, and the impact managed to reach me.
This wasn't even fair.
BOOM!!!
And suddenly everything turned to darkness.
....
My mind was fuzzy; my body didn't respond to any of my commands.
I felt that I could still breathe; I wasn't dead yet.
Was this really my end?
But I would be if I stayed here lying on the ground.
I hadn't even been able to achieve anything I had planned. My life had gone to shit just because of a damn asshole who put my name on this garbage.
No.
There was no way I was going to die in this place. I still had something to fight for and I wasn't willing to give up.
Not after everything I've been through.
I was young, still had a life ahead of me, and that was more than enough motivation to make me get up off the ground.
There was no way I was going to die in this godforsaken place.
I refuse to do it.
I had to get up and keep fighting.
I still had so many things I wanted to do!
AND THAT WAS TO KILL THEM ALL!
(Play Wolfenstein 2: The New Colossus OST - Blazko Kills the Nazis)
I woke up immediately, with a fury like no other, an incandescent rage full of pure hatred invading every one of my actions.
I grabbed my rifle and unloaded every bullet into the rest of these bastards, taking down those I could.
I advance. I was getting closer and closer to the exit; I couldn't waste any more time down here.
When my weapon ran out, I used it as an improvised club, and I broke it along with an insurgent's head, scattering brain matter and some blood all over the floor, then I threw it to the ground as if it were nothing more than trash.
I drew my pistol, then ran and grabbed one of them who was nearby by the neck, shot him in the head with my gun, and proceeded to use his corpse as a meat shield.
My body suddenly felt more revitalized. With each death I carried out, a sudden strength invaded me out of nowhere, making me faster, stronger, more efficient.
But above all, more furious.
The feelings from before no longer burdened me. I no longer felt the pain, anguish, and fear that I used to feel while spending my days in this region.
There was only unbridled anger and rage within my being, endowing me with strength and power, only to tear and shred everything that stood in my way.
Two more insurgents appeared almost out of nowhere. I threw the corpse of their companion at them, the expressions of horror plastered on their faces upon seeing the corpse of one of their comrades completely shredded.
I aim the pistol at them, and then I fire everything that was left in the magazine at my enemies, killing them on the spot.
Once my slaughter was finished, I continued on my way.
When I arrived, I was not greeted by the darkness of the night nor the outside of the sewers, but by an intense light.
This light did nothing but wake me from my daydream, returning me to reality.
Everything here had turned out to be a lie, delusions of the mind in a dying body in its final moments.
....
The warm breeze product of the daydreams from the depths of my being faded away.
Revealing once more the cold and cruel reality of the world.
....
I was lying on my back, in a mess covered in my own blood, amidst various rubble and corpses of those who were once my comrades. My body was under such intense agony that it woke me from my unconsciousness.
When I tried to open my eyes, I was surprised to find that I could only see with my left eye. No matter how much I blinked, it always resulted in the same.
I had a laceration in the area of my right eye. The shrapnel thrown by the explosion had made a cut that started from my forehead, crossing the eye itself, blinding it, in a vertical line ending almost reaching my chin.
I could also feel an intense pain in my abdomen; the skin and muscles were torn outwards, with my guts exposed to the open air because they were literally coming out.
I couldn't feel anything from the waist down, although a good look in my growing panic revealed that my legs were still connected to my body, I had just lost sensation in them forever.
My left arm was completely broken, bent at an unnatural angle. The mere attempt to move it, even a little, caused me intense pain.
The amount of pain I was feeling would have been too much to kill me from shock had my brain not stopped receiving signals from the nerves a long time ago.
I could feel a small liquid puddle forming beneath me, which was surely my blood, which I was losing at a dangerously rapid rate.
The entrance had collapsed from the explosion; there was no way anyone was coming to my rescue.
I knew what was happening to me and was all too aware of the implications of all this. Even if a small part of me refused to acknowledge it, I had resigned myself to such a fate.
And that was that at this very moment I was dying, slowly. I could feel myself losing more and more strength.
Death was so close to me at this moment, closer than all the times I had seen it before and more than I can count in my life.
Little by little, I could feel the cold invading every part of my body, how my sight was clouding over.
She was whispering my name, telling me there was nothing more to fear, that my struggle had come to an end and that I had fulfilled my duty.
With the little strength I had left, I put my remaining functional hand inside my already shattered Kevlar vest and pulled out the detonator, intending to blow the whole place to smithereens.
All the memories of my life passed through my head, like an old videotape playing, one image after another, reliving every moment, every emotion, and every regret.
Mother, Father, I am so sorry to have to make you suffer with my departure, but unfortunately my body can no longer endure this torment.
I didn't know when, but I was crying, knowing how my loved ones would take the news of my death.
I just hope they forgive me for not returning as I promised them.
With tears flowing from my eyes more and more, I accepted my fate, but I also knew that if I was going to die here, I would make sure my last breath wasn't completely in vain.
Death, wait no longer, my dear friend. I too have awaited our meeting.
"I just... wish... all of this—" I meditated for a brief moment of contemplation as I brought closer the object that would activate the explosives and blow up this whole site, giving the others enough time to hold out until reinforcements arrived.
"—had been... different." And after saying my last words, I pressed the button on the detonator, triggering a powerful explosion and thus putting an end to my own suffering.
BOOOOOOOM!!
A loud roar shook the entire tunnel, and immediately a growing fireball appeared out of nowhere, consuming everything at an astonishing speed.
Then I closed my eyes, my consciousness finally fading from my mind as my soul at last left the world of the living.
I had completed the task I was destined for in this life.
It was all over now, and I could finally rest in peace.
Come on, old friend, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting…..
....
A powerful explosion occurred from the sewers, collapsing the entire drainage system and in the process cutting off the route the insurgent forces had been using to flank the soldiers.
As a result, everyone who was still inside died as a result of the explosion.
The status of Beta Team was officially classified as K.I.A (Killed in Action). With the sacrifice of these men, the pressure on the base gradually decreased and a counterattack was possible.
....
End