You know that feeling you get when you're sitting in a hot, stuffy classroom on a hot summer's day, bored out of your mind and just wanting to go home?
Well, that's me right now.
Minus the school setting of course.
It's Afghanistan, It's always going to be hot. That in itself was a well established truth that was never going to change, until the ends of time itself.
And I, coincidentally, am constantly in the state of wanting to go home. Because you know, I'm a sane person that wants to go home to see my family again.
I take a sip from my coffee as I sit in my tent, the flap slightly ajar as the sun's rays show through the little hole, letting in at the very least, a small semblance of brightness in this stuffy old thing.
As I take a sip, I eye my throbbing bandage wrapped foot. The docs told me to take a day or two off, and not to move much, lest the stitches burst open.
Well, not like I mind. I quite enjoy not being thrusted into the fray. So this is just fine by me!
In the not so far off distance, I still hear the distant cracks of rifle fire, a clear sign that we were still here. Well, even if I have a sharp, clear hatred on why we're here. As long as I don't get shot at, then I'm fine.
Unfortunately, I can hear the chirping of the birds outside, and the occasional gust of wind. Refusing me a small semblance of much needed peace and rest.
I furrow my brows in irritation at this. Good god, can't a man get some peace! I'm already in Afghanistan as is, so please. For the love of god shut the hell up you fucking birds!
Hell, I have half a mind to grab my rifle and just start unloading on those little fuckers!
…
Sigh.
I won't though. One, because I know for a fact that I'll get dressed down if I do. And 2, well It just wasn't worth it.
This is a precious time in which I wasn't getting shot at. In fact, I was told to rest and take it easy! I sure as hell won't waste this precious opportunity for a little R and R!
So I'll enjoy it as much as I can, Thank you very much.
The chirping of the birds gradually faded out as I focused on other things.
Such as, You know, recuperating from a wound apparently serious enough to require stitching.
(I know, I was quite shocked myself.)
I glare menacingly now at the piece of paper lazily laid out on the ground, Trying to think up of plausible and realistic reasons as to why we where here in this fucking pass.
1.GRU was involved.
2.The CIA was involved.
3.The woman was looking for something.
4.The thing in this fucking pass was important enoguh for those goddamn terrorists to fight us in a state in which they were not in control.
5.They have fucking mortars. But the question was, why? Why would they attack us with mortars without a follow up attack to push us back?
6. They know at least somewhat of our plans considering the fact that they knew which direction our helicopters would be coming from, and thus act accordingly by having stingers and rpgs at the east and west.
7.They don't know everything about us considering that they just merely observed us instead of launching an ambush, granted that there might just be a possibility that they just don't have enough anti armour weapons, but still that begs the question, If this sector was that important to the Americans, why couldn't they have supplied them with more Rpgs and stingers?
8.There appeared to be some disagreement in their ranks, considering that they feared the hind and were willing to pull back because of it. There was also the other guy on the radio, telling them to stay and to fight. So, What was it? What was happening here?
9.Makarov was suspicious. He claimed to have watched me through the scope of the dragunov, that means he saw me gun down the enemy, hell, I even threw a grenade for god's sake! And yet, he intentionally omitted the fact that I did this when he told the woman of my supposed "treachery"
10. And finally 10. Johnny. He was gone, nowhere to be seen in the camp. So that would mean that his mission had finally begun in earnest. So where did he go? The pass most likely. So that begs the question, How much does the woman know? Is she working hand in hand with GRU? If so then why? What has she got to gain? And here I thought, she was just your typical heroine shoujo protagonist of a Mary sue that cared about her men and would do just about anything to protect them if she could help it.
Hah.
This shit just got infuriatingly complex. I'm ending up with more questions than answers!
With a soft growl, I take yet another sip of coffee as I rack my head to come up with if not answers then some plausible guess's and theories as to why that woman's unit was here, attacking this pass.
Sigh.
I never did like working hard. I find it to be waste of time when you could be enjoying yourself, like playing on your beloved, precious PSP-Chan~
Sigh.
And yet here I am, working hard and trying to solve this fucking joke of a puzzle.
Hah.
You wanna know something?
The phrase, a soldier fights not because he hates whats in front of him, but because he loves whats behind him is fucking stupid.
I hate the enemy for forcing me into their ranks. And I doubly hate the soviets for putting me through this bullshit.
Just you wait, I'm gonna haul ass the moment I get a chance! I'm not fighting for either of you, I'm fighting for my fucking life here!
So yes, I may fight. But not for you sons of bitches, I fight for myself and always myself! And that won't change, Not till the end of time!
Hah.
I take a final sip from my coffee mug before putting it down, Pausing it a little before letting out another dreary sigh. Standing up, I slowly sling my rifle over my shoulder once again. (Again, I must emphasize that this is a war zone, Not a fucking air soft stadium.)
Lazily and haphazardly, I open the tent flap to take a step outside, the bright shiny Afghan sun blinding my eyes as I do so. Annoying me greatly in the process as I sigh.
A soft crunch from my steps quietly echo throughout the camp as I make my way to the latrines. What? A man can't take a piss?
As I make my way to a tree, I hear the urgent fury of a rushed whisper nearby. Now, Normally I'm not a snoop, in fact, I'd rather much prefer it when People left me out of their problems! But hey, I was hearing some majorly suspicious shit be whispered out in a barely concealed rage.
Raising a brow, I silently stalked my way to the origin of the whispering, taking care to hide myself lest I become noticed.
As I make my way closer, I can distinctly pick out words now, loosely thrown in the air while I grab them and piece them together. Much like macaroni art that Kindergartners would usually do.
"...Fired...Wrong spot dumb ass!...I know… Sure you got rid of the need for an explanation...Now..Don't have… to work with...Your...own!...Can't do...Anything more...you!" I stopped abruptly and took cover behind a tree as the mysterious man stopped whispering and stood up, with a sigh of frustration now as he kicked the dirt in anger and left.
More importantly however, Was what he was holding. As he bitterly walked away with a sour look on his face, I saw it. It was just a quick glimpse, But I knew what it was immediately. A walkie talkie. Now, Why would a soviet have a Walkie talkie now? It was simple.
He was a rat.
But a rat for what?
That was the question.
I barely knew the man, Only barely remembering his face as one of the faces belonging to the logistics crew that were with us.
Hah.
Great! Just fucking great! Another piece of the fucking puzzle! I'm so Fucking Happy! (Not!)
He soon walks out of my sight as I stay there, taking cover behind the tree. With a frustrated sigh, I reluctantly take a piss, relieving myself as this newfound information races through my mind.
Hah.
I soon finish, and pat my hands down the sides of my trousers. With a raised brow, I pull out a cigarette and light it. Perhaps a rush of Nicotine will help me solve this mystery, and sides, Sherlock Holmes smokes to, So I'm not the only one doing this shit.
…
Hah.
I take a long, slow drag as I enjoy the rotten Nicotine entering my rotten lungs, slowly killing me. Eh, I'd much prefer death from cancer then death from a bullet. I lean against the tree now as I close my eyes, tired as all hell.
The smoke I exhale linger in the air, for just a moment as it desperately claws onto nothing, Just trying to exist for even one second longer in its extremely unimportant, short lived life.
The sound of silence fills the air now as I relax against the tree, time seemingly slowing down now as I relax just a little bit.
....
Hah.
If it doesn't involve me or my mortality. Then fuck it, I don't care. And sides, It's not like I'll tell them anyway. What? That woman's men are already wary enough, I don't need to give them another reason to be suspicious of me...Well, Not like it'll help anyway, They hate me.
And well, I just don't have enough information anyway. That guy has a walkie talkie for sure, But he's part of the logistics section, They have a shit ton of things, whether it be standard issue or not. And well, I couldn't hear his full conversation, which means I don't know what he was talking about,
Don't get me wrong, He's suspicious as fuck. But at the end of the day, I may not care for these assholes, But I also would rather not make any new enemies. Especially those logistics guys. They are very fickle.
Taking yet another drag, I lazily open my eyes, enjoying the cigarette as I start moving. With a slow limp, I make my way back to my tent intending to rest.
…
I pause. Now, This may sound cliche, but you know how veteran's always say that they can sense blood in the air? Well that just happened. My brows furrowed as I quickly looked around, Hastily moving back to my tent as I did so.
It was the calm before the storm, the quiet, creepy lull before a sudden violent action happened, that was what my gut was telling me. And if there's one thing I've learned, It's that my hunches are always right. With a scowl, I unsling my rifle and fold down the stock, ready for a fight.
I keep my figure low as I grip my rifle tightly, ready for a fight and yet, not wishing for it. This was my day off, This was the equivalent of finishing work in the office and all of a sudden, bam! Surprise overtime.
I hear the low humming sound, and before I even think, My body dives for the ground. A second later, I see a puff of dust nearby and hastily crawl towards cover as a result. It's okay, Chances are the enemy has a lee enfield, it's a bolt action. That means they have to reload by pulling the bolt back, therefore taking their aim from me for a second.
I slither like a snake on the ground, another puff of dirt appearing as I hear the loud distinctive sound of a rifle...Scratch that, I hear the sounds of many rifles now popping up. The area now has bullets flying over the place now as the soviets quickly scramble to position, Crying out the alarm.
Hah, talk about too little, too late.
I slither towards the nearest piece of cover, the bullets now landing more and more near me. Sheesh, Why don't these assholes aim for the other assholes? Why me?
Tobacco smoke from my cigarette escaped into the air, joining the maelstrom of bullets and chaos now as I keep on crawling, getting closer and closer to my target.
The btr-80's.
They were silent, which was both good and bad. Good meaning that it was quiet, The enemy had no reason to focus on it, instead opting to kill as many soviets as possible. Bad meaning that nobody was on the machine gun, helping put on suppressing fire on these fuckers.
Well that's okay. For now, What was important was me finding cover, shielding me and allowing me to better understand the situation.
As Soon as I get close, I get up and dash to the side of the btr-80, taking cover as the bullets still fly in the air. With a thud, My back makes contact with the scrappy iron of the btr. It ain't much, but it'll do.
With a growl, I take quick, short peeks around the corner of the btr, Trying to get a better read on whatever the fuck was happening.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see it. A group of Russian soldiers going towards me. They see me as soon as I see them. A quick pause, a hesitant pause before I see them raises their rifles.
Fuck.
Quickly ducking, The bullets soon bounce harmlessly off of the scrap iron plates of the BTR-80.
"Oi! It's me, Sokolov you fucking idiots!" I growl, clearly displeased at what was happening.
A short pause, Good those idiots stopped- I was cut off by the sound of gun fire once again, the bullets now once more bouncing off of the BTR-80.
Great, just fucking great!
I'm getting fragged right now! Shit!
Soon, a grenade bounces near my location. Without missing a beat, I grab the little fucker and toss it over the btr, at the general location of those fucking asshats who were shooting at me.
A second goes by, then another before they pause, I hear the equivalent of an Oh shit before the explosion happens, and the screams of the wounded and dying as a result. I don't suppress the urge to grin a little at this. Serves you right you little shit heads!
Peeking over cover once again, I don't see anyone other than a group of russian soldiers now lying dead and or wounded on the ground. Smoke escapes from my cigarette as I furrow my brows and take a look at them.
Sigh.
I know that this was a risky thing to do, considering the fact that the camp was currently under fire, but I still had to know. My fucking life was at stake here!
Quickly, I run out of cover the best I can, And drag a wounded soldier back to the BTR-80, my wounded foot not helping in the process.
He groans in pain as I get my hands off of him. I look at him with a poker face now as I Point my rifle at his forehead. He was not white. In fact, He looked like an Afghani. His face contorted in pain now as he slowly bled out.
"Why did you shoot at me?" I snarl in my broken Farsi. Choosing to speak it instead of Russian to get a better chance of him replying. I didn't have much time after all.
"..." He continues groaning in pain now as I press the end of my muzzle deeper into his forehead.
"Speak!" I growl, my brows furrowed at the man.
"...You're...The Beast! The Beast of Panjshir!" He says after he opens his eyes and takes a second to look at me, My face apparently gives him enough of a shock to shake him out of it.
"Speak and I might just not send you to Allah." I snarl once more, his eyes widening in the process.
"You filthy traitor! You infidel pig!-" He sputters out before I put my foot (My good one) down upon his neck, choking him in the process.
"I shall give you 7 seconds before I not only crush your neck, but feed you pork as well." I say with a serious look now as he looks at me in fear.
"Y-you wouldn't dare!" He sputters out before quickly shutting up, my boot now pushing deeper and deeper into his neck.
I dig into my pockets and pull out a pack of bacon that I was planning on eating later on in the day before this fucking shit happened. Well, It's not like I would feed him this shit either way, this shit was expensive! I had to trade two packets of cigarettes just for what? 5 bacon strips?
Point is, this was a bluff. And I knew that these fuckers wouldn't risk it. This was a "Holy" War after all. Their Allah was apparently with them, watching their every move and helping them apparently.
…
I say nothing as I slowly increase the pressure of my boot upon his neck and slowly inch the packet of bacon to his mouth.
…
"W-wait! Stop!" He finally uttered out desperately, His face facing away from the bacon.
"..." I say nothing as I stop putting pressure on his neck, along with my fistful of bacon.
"The-the command tent. We were heading to the command tent! You were in our way." He sputters, thankful to have a boot off of his neck.
"Were you helped by an American or soviet?" This was it, this was the million yen question. There's no way they could have gotten the jump on us, unless they had help of course, help from one of the Soviets.
"It...It was a Soviet." He says, looking at me fearfully now.
"What was his name?"
"I don't know, he never told me."
"What did he look like?"
"He was dressed in our attire the entire time."
"..." I furrow my brows at this. With a pause, I look at him now before I ask the last, final question.
"What are you looking for in the command tent?"
"...Documents. We were told that he would help lead us undetected into the camp If we grabbed some documents in the command tent and handed it to him." He says, now looking calmly as he steadies his breathing.
"What documents?"
"The roster of the GRU agents assigned to the paratroopers operation."
"He told you that GRU was involved?"
"Yes."
"Did he tell you anything else?"
"Only to make sure that we completely destroy the camp once we're in." He says with a cocky, arrogant grin.
"...I see."
"What-" He manages to utter it before I put my foot once more, unto his neck.
"Y-you said you wouldn't! You filthy traitor!" He sputters the words in great pain as I increase the pressure.
"I said I might. And you might have lived as well, If only you didn't call me by that stupid title." I say with a stern face.
"Y-you truly are a...beast!" CRACK.
The man managed to utter out those last words right before I put my full weight and more unto my foot, killing him in the process.
Sighing, I take a short little drag before I make my way towards the command tent.
Normally, I would have let them take the roster. But the thing is, Johnny was on it, And I was shot at as well, almost dying in the process. And oh my, I was quite furious right now. My day off, ruined by deception and trickery.
I wasn't gonna let them have what they want now, would I?
After all, You know what they say, Spite is the strongest force on earth.
Gripping my pistol grip tightly, I make my way, cover to cover to my destination. It's a short distance yes, But I'm not in the mood to be shot right now.
Taking cover behind a barrel, I see another group of soviets. I don't bother saying anything as I open fire on them, killing them instantly. The fact that they were Muslim, along with them being so close to the command tent was a dead give away.
A quick plan formulates in my mind as I fold up the stock, reloading as well. I've no clue on how many of these fuckers have actually infiltrated the camp, They're in our uniform as well, I'm gonna need a Fast and disciplined hand If I don't want to frag any of these soviet assholes. Don't get me wrong, i don't care if the majority of these fuckers live or die. What I do care about however, is me living, and me living becomes a very VERY small plausible outcome if I let these fuckers die. I don't want to switch over to the Mujaheddin again, because with them there's no actual chance of me escaping this shit hole of a country. So the Soviets, as begrudging as it is, Is naturally my only choice.
With a scowl on my face, I haul ass to the command tent, quickly heading in and finding it. The Radio. Picking up the receiver, I scowl as I fumble with the buttons and little knobs on the damn thing.
It takes a minute, with me constantly turning my head over my shoulder before I manage to land on a frequency that wasn't just static. I don't know who the fuck I landed on and frankly I don't care. Anything would do.
"This Is Private first class Yuri Sokolov under Kapitan Sofiya Pavlovna, we are currently under attack, I repeat we are currently under attack. We need support immediately, Our camp Is on the verge of being overrun." I say as I face the open tent flap now, my free hand resting tightly on the pistol grip, aiming at the entrance of the tent.
"...What? Comrade Sokolov? What?" The other voice on the other end of the receiver is full of confusion and shock. A familiar voice to add, I recognize it, It was one of that damned woman's goons, one of her yes men.
Sigh. So I landed on the frequency of those Idiots huh? Great, just fucking great. Saves me the trouble of having to look for the coordinates of the camp as well. What? I don't know that shit! Nor will ever personally feel bothered to learn to.
"Just put me on with Comrade Pavlovna." I say with a sigh, My brows furrowing in exasperation.
"What?"
"Just do it." I snarl.
"..."
After a hesitant pause that I can hear through the end of the receiver, The man finally hands it to the woman, the distinct cracks of gunfire audible over on her end as well.
"..."
After a few seconds, HER voice comes on. Full of confusion and worry as she speaks.
"Yuri? What's going on?"
Hah, this woman!
"The camp is under attack, Come back quickly, we're just barely managing to hold them off. Oh yeah, Call for some support, preferably a whole squadron of Hinds unto the camps coordinates. We might get overrun if you don't."
"What? What do you mean?" She asks with more worry in her voice then confusion now.
"I mean we're under attack, woman. Now I'd suggest you quickly call for support because I can't. I have no clue on how this stuff works." I growl, finally losing my patience and snapping at her a little despite my better judgement.
"..."
"..."
"Fine. You and the rest of the men hold the line, We'll head back to your position. And support is on the way." She said after a moment's pause, her voice stern and serious now as I hear her giving orders to her men outside the receiver.
With a sigh, I drop the receiver and place my now free hand underneath the barrel of my ak47. This was gonna get hot quick.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The barrel of my ak47 was steaming by the time those fucking Hinds came. And let me tell you, it was every bit as glorious and dangerous as I remembered it.
First came the deathly, frightening sounds of the rotors, even so far away and in the midst of a firefight with rifles firing you could hear it.
Second came the panicked shouts of the enemy as They spotted the hinds, only to be cut down by machine gun fire as the rest of them retreated.
Ahem, a Haiku if you will.
Death from the blue sky.
I love the almighty Hind.
It just saved my ass.
I take a congratulatory drag as I watch it finish off the rest of these fuckers.
A small, faint smile on my face as I sit down on the chair in the tent.
Hah, This was gonna be one hell of a slap in the face for them when they come back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I sit on the little mound of dirt as I watch them pull up. Taking a slow drag as they do so. The Afghanistan sun beat down on my back but I didn't care much. I was too focused on smoking to bother with the little details. Too busy trying to enjoy and getting lost in the tobacco.
The stench of death filled the air as corpses were everywhere, flies already covering their sweat covered, dirty, bloody faces. In the background, the other men were moving corpses back and forth unto a huge pile, trying to clean the place up.
I said nothing as I watched them, my eyes not really focusing on them per say, and more in just their general area.
A gentle breeze blew by, rustling my hair and blowing away the smoke from my cigarette, forcing it to disperse into nothing in the face of the wind.
I don't think at all. I just smoke. No...It's more of a matter of I don't want to think. I don't want to tremble as I think of how shockingly easy they got into the camp. I don't want to think about me stomping my feet onto the man's neck. I don't want to shiver as I remember giving that man a false hope before choking him to death.
...It's even worse when I've done this shit many times before. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to dwell on it. I don't want to break down and accept that this is normal. That this is perfectly acceptable, because it's not.
It never was. No matter how hard I tried to justify it, it's not acceptable. Death is not my friend, it's my fucking stalker. And I fucking hate it. I want to go home. That's the only acceptable thing here. Wanting to go home.
I don't want to do this shit anymore.
I don't want to kill.
I don't want to have nightmares every time I sleep.
I don't want to fire this ak47 anymore.
I just want to go home.
Is that really to hard to fucking ask?
....
Sigh.
I slowly take yet another drag, focusing entirely on my cigarette as I close my eyes tiredly.
I hear steps approaching me now. I don't bother to open my eyes. My posture doesn't change, continuing to remain slouched as they approach me now.
I'm just frankly too tired to even raise an arm. Strange, I took a drag just a second ago.
They stopped right in front of me, their soft breathing could be heard as they stood there and looked at my pathetic figure.
"..." I say nothing, merely sitting there as I allow the fatigue to take over my body. I don't really care if it's rude to the person in front of me, I'd much rather prefer it if they left anyway.
"...?" Imagine my surprise when I was suddenly hugged by them, my eyes naturally opening up in shock as I looked at them.
Ah, It was her. But why?
She said nothing as she hugged me tightly. Her soft steady breathing could be felt throughout my body as I looked at her, completely stupidfed and baffled by the sudden inappropriate hug.
"...You saved everyone, the camp, the operation." She said simply, her voice oddly gentle and calm.
"You give me too much credit. Many are wounded and dead." I say with a scowl.
"Because of you, So many were saved. If you hadn't called, everyone would have died. My men… they would have all been dead." She said with a shiver.
"...." I say nothing as I raise a brow at her, Not knowing what to do. This shit has never happened to me before. So quite frankly, I'm at a loss.
"...."
After a few quiet moments, she breaks the awkward hug, and silently salutes to me. With a shaky hand, I salute back, Utterly exhausted now for some strange reason.
To my salute, she cuts down and silently leaves, making way to the medical tents.
Crunch crunch.
Ah, It was Borris.
Come to mock me yet again have you?
Well I'm sorry, I don't think I have it in me to have a battle of wits with you.
He says nothing as he stops in front of me. With a solemn look on his face, a moment or two passes before he salutes me. Cutting back down after I return the salute.
As He turns to leave, he hesitates, and looks at me.
"..Why?" He asked, his eyes screaming for an answer as he looked at me. His eyes,once full of doubt and contempt now show a sliver of confusion.
Don't look at me like that. I didn't do it out of camaraderie I did it out of self preservation, so you and you're mopey eyes can go fuck right off!
With a tired, mocking grin, I replied in kind.
"Why not?"
"...." He said nothing as he looked at me simply. After a moment, he slowly nodded his head and pissed right the fuck off.
"..."
Good, I never did like his ugly mug anyway.
The sun beat down behind me as I can't help but sweat. Hah, I never really did like summer anyways. All this damn heat just makes me feel so fucking uncomfortable.
I always did prefer winter and snow over summer and sunshine. It's just who I am really.
Tiredly, I force my hand to take yet another drag. Damn, my body just feels so fucking sluggish after that hug, seriously, what the fuck woman? What did you do to me?
Sheesh, what's her deal anyway? Coming up to me and hugging me like that? That's like, a total breach of military conduct. Is she that attached to her men? Jesus, it's like her one and only family or something.
Please, for my sake and yours, don't hug me. In fact, I'd prefer it if you never spoke to me again.
…
Hah.
Shaking my head slowly, I quietly sigh for the umpteenth time this day.
As expected, my life is so wrong.