Echos of War
A Short Story
By: S.O.T.P.
‘You can't say civilization don't advance... in every war they kill you in a new way.’
-Will Rogers
‘War does not determine who is right - only who is left.’
-Bertrand Russell
PART 1:
Continent: North America
Region: North-West part of the former Untied States of America.
City: Seattle
Activity in Progress: War…
Red Light. Stop. Green Light. Go…
“GO! Move it you maggots!”
My CO’s shout brought my mind back; crashing down in the little place everyone calls ‘Reality’. But unfortunately for us, Reality had a wicked since of humor.
In the tiny enclosed space of the APC, the roars of excitement, rage, and fear were multiplied ten-fold, and the rear doors fell. They all rushed out, pushing me with their elbows, and punching me to the front of the line of soldiers.
“Cannon fodder first, scum!” sneered Sergeant Bulkov, his black, emotionless eyes fixed on me. The rest of the men laughed, or cheered.
I turned away and run out, hoping to snag some cover before my idiot squad members could take any. I guess that’s what saved my life the first time. As soon as I cleared the APC as the rest of the squad followed up, the enemy soldiers started firing on us, two men fell, and I could tell by the numbers bloody holes in their uniforms that they were staying that way.
They used my as an aiming point, I realized morbidly, the enemy knew that the first to come out of our transports were worthless, not even worth the cost of making the bullet that killed us. So they waited for the big dogs to come out. I caused those soldiers deaths, I thought to myself. Well, they were jackasses anyway; the world would not miss them.
The Pintle-mounted machine cannon came alive with a roar, ripping apart, what would have been before 2104, a cozy little European-themed furniture store, but what was now a smoking ruin. I cried out at the loud noise. Of course I experienced how loud Vulcan machine cannons were, but not this close, and always in a controlled environment! Reality laughed at me for this naive comment.
The enemy soldiers hug their cover as the cannon ripped apart the store; there was not that much shrapnel. The Vulcan did not leave that much left that small to have a need. His squad members cheered, (though you could not hear it over the roar of the cannon) at the sight of the remaining cover the enemy had became dust, soon followed up by them.
The APC went through its shell-clip before it stopped firing the cannon, the driver, who we could see through the still lowered rear door, gave us a friendly wave, and the door went back up. And the APC drove off, probably to dump more losers into this war.
I looked around, surprised to see my fellow coward in the teaches with me, he flashed me a yellow toothed smile and yelled over the men’s cheering. “Was quite a nice fireworks show there, Uric? Though, damn I wished I was one of those Ipod guys. They get personal music devices to listen to during their battles!”
I summoned a fake laugh at this little joke, and responded with. “Oh yeah, all that ‘Let the Music Guide you.’ Bullshit, Dave?” Dave nodded cheerfully.
At that time, Bulkov decide that was quite enough cheering and horsing around. “Get your sorry asses up! We are still fighting a war here!”
The men instantly fell silent as the imposing figure of Bulkov addressed them, I could see why. He was a huge man, with a Russian accent, even though he looked comical with his balding hair. It was a kind of comical you felt when you see a Silver-back Gorilla playing with a hammer, until he beats you to death with it. To add to that image, he grew a long arm length sliver beard, which looked like he could strangle you to death with it.
He cleared his throat. “We are supposed to cleanse the road from here, to Capitol Hill of all the enemy soldiers we can get our hands on. Simple enough for you apes?” The men cheered again at that. “Then get your shit in gear!”
The men automatically formed a 3 point line, but with two men down already it was weak but the men did know any other formations to adjust to this tactical change. Chris didn’t even think that the men noticed the decrease in their numbers, when they were driven in their blood-lust.
They stalked the streets, slowly marching toward Capitol Hill. Dave and I were in one of the uneven points of the formation, so naturally Dave had no one to shut him up apart from me, but I found his harmless chatter clamed me. I was about to answer a question he gave me about my favorite kind of beverage, if that wasn’t obvious enough for the idiot when the point man raised a fist over his head. This meant. Careful. Activity. Hold up!
I realized I did not think the last two words. That Bulkov yelled it, and he had not finished. “-And get into cover!” Might as well walk around with a mega phone declaring we were here. What a dumb – I was about to finish my thought until I felt the wind rush by my left ear.
“Sniper!” I yelled as I pushed a bewildered Dave into a nearby ruined apartment building. The other men, who were getting into secure positions, stared at me with a madding look of stupidly, until one of the soldiers brains silently blew exited through a huge hole that appeared in the back of his head. NOW, they move!
Blindly, the soldiers returned fire with their machine rifles, bullets hit randomly into the buildings around them, clouds of cement and debris rained down on me and Dave. I knew I could do nothing, I didn’t even know where the damn shot came from. I finished pulling a stunned Dave into the apartment complex, and then a idea struck me.
I took a deep breath, and I jumped out the door and did a sort of awkward roll, when I felt the air move as the sniper’s bullet barely missed the base of my neck. I looked up, and saw a small of poof of pure white smoke rise from a bookstore window. I came out of my dive, and rushed towards cover.
I took my cumbersome rifle, and loaded a clip into it from one of my vest pockets. I adjusted the sights a bit as I looked down them. I then took aim for the window that I saw smoke rise out of. I held my breathe steady and waited for conformation. Another poof of white smoke rose out of the same window, at the same time another soldier was struck in the chest. I pulled the trigger.
I was used to the loud crack of the rifle, and I was pleased when the sniper rolled out of the buildings window, a humongous rifle falling from the soldiers grip. I silently cheered myself on the nice shot with the awkward weapon. Bulkov stood up, and dusted himself off. “Nice shot Wuin.”
“Thank you, sir!” Smirked Wuin, his tight face pulled into a small smile. I cursed silently to myself as I promised I would…do something about this injustice. I usually made plans as I went along…
Then a low whine ringed through my ear drums. And the few celebrating soldiers, patting Wuin on the back looked up with everyone else. I remembered the sound somewhere… I realized what it was when it turned into a low roar. There was no time to yell out, and I ran for the apartment complex that Dave was running out of to cheer Wuin. I went to safe him, but he ran pass me without a word, only eyes for Wuin.
They were all dead, I thought. But right now, I did not care. Safety for me was all I cared about. As soon as I got behind the wall the missile hit. The explosion was ear shattering, I covered them in a hope they would still be there after this little episode. Flames flared past the door down the long hall way, rest past me. All I time I prayed, to God, to Dogs, to Dolphins I did not care as long as someone saved me from this maelstrom.
PART 2:
Continent: North America
Region: Somewhere in the Former Untied States of America.
City: Unknown
Activity in Progress: Meeting…
Bulcark leaned back in his throne chair, quite pleased with himself as the rest of the men around him in the conference room; all seating at the giant black table clapped and cheered him for his great victory. A large flag television screen hang on the wall in front of him stated in huge, blood red letters. ‘VICTORY!’
But, finally he had to wave them off. One of the men spoke up to him. “So, to get this straight, so I can record it in our great history. We destroyed the enemy’s factory in Seattle?”
Bulcark smiled. “Indeed. It was a complete success. Only twenty thousand soldiers were lost I might add! A acceptable loss rate for our CO to accept.” The other men nodded their heads enthusiastically at his statement. The man who asked the question leaned back in his chair quite at a loss for words.
One man shouted. “I hope those Pepsi bastards feel the pain, baby! Soon we will be number one on the market for beverages!” The other men cheered, starting up a victory chorus of “Death to Pepsi! Long Live Coca-Cola!”
Bulcark just smiled. Taking it all in with glee. He thought he very well deserved a cigar. A nice Cuban one for sure…
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I cried in pain, and clutched my bloody stump that was all that was left of my arm. My cries echoed down the silent, abandoned street. Blood and gore was everywhere, but I knew it was not enough for me to die of blood lost. The flames heat sealed it up pretty well.
But damn Coca-Cola if I would live a cripple, they probably did not give a rat’s ass about me anymore. Or anyone. I screamed, and let go with my other hand, which I just noticed, was missing a few fingers.
I grabbed my sidearm, a hefty pistol, and awkwardly loaded a clip into it. I cocked it and turned the safety off. Everyone was dead, it was all my fault. I should have yelled at them to take cover. I should have pushed Dave back into the building. I should have told Sergeant Bulkov what was coming.
But I didn’t. Now they were all dead.
I stuffed the pistol into my mouth, and I prayed that God would forgive me. I could not live with myself. A cripple, a murderer, and a coward. And if the Pepsi soldiers caught me I would wish I did this.
I stopped crying for a second, felling my warm tears rush down my face. I pulled the trigger…
…and nothing happened. I threw the pistol away; knowing that it was either damaged in the blast, or Cokes piss poor weapons designers failed me in doing its job in killing.
I screamed out again, crying long after even when my eyes dried up. Pleading for someone to kill me, to end my miserable existence.
My call went unheeded…
THE END.
P.S.: This is one of my first pieces, I hoped you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. All comments are welcome.
S.O.T.P.
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