A number. That's all we are a this point. Before this damned war started a death used to mean something. A death used to be important. When hearing of a loved one's death used to bring depression, sadness, and sorrow. Now it's a statistic. It signifies one less soul to be destroyed by this god forsaken conflict. There is no end in sight. Today we will change that. Today the enemy shall no fear. Today they will be the ones to retreat. Today the tide of war shall be put in our favor. Long ago, the last era of battered bastards in this very division drove through the Siegfried Line. That is how we earned this nickname. That is how we became known as the Fighting 69th. Today we will make sure the enemy doesn't drive through this small village. This settlement nobody has ever heard of. We will stop them here, at Cascade Falls.
I hope.
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I stood outside of my wary fireteam's tent, uncertain of what would happen that day. We were all adjusting to a new routine. For the last month, we have been driven all the way back from Seattle, through Oregon, to this location. we had fought the enemy, delayed them, every step of the way. I had remembered my grandfather talking to me over the phone about how cowardly we were. About how back in the day, if those "beady eyed sons a' bitches" invaded their home, they wouldn't give a single inch of ground to them. I cant lie, a part of me wanted to see him on the front lines, trying to accomplish what he said, and failing. Miserably.
Before this war, in this division, we were all content. We were all the way on the east coast, in New York, living the good life (At least, in military standards). We were part of the national guard at that point. I had steadily risen through the ranks, being given the honor of being a sergeant, just to have it stripped away after a very unfortunate incident i would rather not discuss in detail, better yet, at all. By the time the war came, we were transferred from being a national guard unit, to being on the front lines in Europe, fighting the "Red Menace". The Russian soldiers were promptly given this nickname after posters were handed out all around headquarters saying that "The Red Menace awaits at the Gates of Hell, and the Army is gonna send em' in!".
After weeks of vigorous fighting, our division was finally relieved. We were shipped all the way to Seattle, for R&R we were told. At the time nobody had rejected the idea that all of us could relax defending a city that would never be invaded. We had actually enjoyed our time there. We were given leave from base, we had enjoyed the nightlife, and believe it or not, wearing your formal uniform (that fancy suit and hat thing, you know) is a great way to pick up ladies.
Than, the Russians came. They emerged from cargo ships, in massive numbers nobody on our side could have imagined. They overwhelmed our under gunned and under manned hold of the city in less than a day. The blow to our morale was unimaginable. In Germany and Belgium we were considered one of the most feared units on the whole front, only to lose one of the key cities in our own country. From then on we made a fighting retreat, using scorched earth tactics we delayed them as long as we could. Our division eventually split up, to break up the advancing horde of Russians for reinforcements, if they ever came. We were no longer an under-manned division, but an under-manned battalion. Morale was at an all time low, and that was before we were ordered to defend a town in the middle of nowhere.
At the time, none of us had realized why we had to defend here, after stripping so many towns like this of anything usable to the enemy, we were pretty much stumped. Some of us had thought that we were being used as bait to lure the enemy into attack the city, then reinforcements would counter attack, while others simply thought command simply left us out to dry. Either way, we were in for one hell of a fight that day.
As i had finished my reflections on the events that had happened in the last weeks, i had started to realize i was not the only one in my squad who was awake at the time. A few feet to my left i a face. Not just an ordinary face, the face of A man who experienced nothing but anguish for the last month. He truly wore the face of a veteran. He had taken the invasion more seriously than anyone in the entire battalion. He was a Seattle native, born and raised, and he still had family in the city during the invasion. The worst part was he did not even know if they were alive or dead. He had absolutely no closure, yet he still attempted to remember his family. He had worn a golden ring on his finger to remind him of what he was fighting for. I had attempted to approach the sorrowful Sergeant, but i was cut off, by the last thing a soldier ever wants to hear. An alarm. Me and the sergeant did not say a word, but we both looked at eachother, and knew what had to be done. Wake up the squad, and put on the gas masks. As we carried out this task, the rest of the encampment blared to life, with out a single word uttered, we all dug in our fox holes, and waited.
I, as usual, had taken up safety in the amount of men we had. We had a few thousand men and around fifty-seven operational vehicles. Most new guys see this amount of men and think they are invincible. While i knew better, it did temporarily relieve me that i wasn't alone. I had taken view of my surroundings. I had seen that almost everyone in my general area was either in a foxhole or behind sandbags on a fifty caliber. Those weapons teams, unfortunately, were usually the first to go.
I was never a christian, but the old army saying, "There is no such thing as an atheist in a fox hole." Was most certainly true. I had heard a few men with rosaries repeating the hail mary. Than, came the gas. After such a long period of experiencing Chinese attacks, we already had known how the events would play out. I had set up a mental check list of how the events would play out. First the gas, check.
Luckily everyone (from what i could tell) had their gas masks on, so our numbers remained unchanged. But we all had known how it would play out. The Russians had wanted sheer chaos through our lines. And quite frankly, they had the perfect recipe for mayhem. Luckily, for the 69th, once you know of something, it becomes alot less scary. I had remembered an old Russian proverb. "A wet man does not fear rain." Before i had no idea what it meant, but after all this time, i felt like an idiot for not knowing earlier. A dead man does not fear death.
As if on cue, i heard the rain. not the ordinary drizzling of water. No, we were not fortunate for such a gift. It was the rain of steel. the undeniable whistle of the embodiment of death traveling at you at hundreds of feet per second. than the ground itself shook. The boom of dozens of one hundred and fifty-two millimeter shells that could make an earthquake blush at such ferocity.
Than came the screams. The screams of wounded men, Mentally and physically. I had thanked God it was not me who had died. At least yet. The gas was still thick. So thick I could only see two things on either side of me. One was a soldier in my squad, A private named Del. On the other side, a separated arm. not even I, who had seen enough blood and gore to make A Japanese horror film director cringe, could not help but grow pale at that sight. There was a wedding ring on one of those fingers. I shook my head to get the mental image out of my head. It was then i heard the undeniable war chants of the Russians soldiers. The gas had seemed to clear up a bit, for the Russians usually waited a few minutes after their strikes, but i couldnt see anything. Even after the unmistakable sounds of fire arms, big and small going off. I had than though to myself, "Oh shit, my lenses are foggy."
I had mentally facepalmed, and immediately cleared my lenses to see what was going on. Shadows, sprinting shadows heading straight for us. I had known it wasnt one of our guys, because it could only mean two things. It was either enemy soldiers, or fleeing allies, both of which we were authorized to fire at. I had immediately aimed at the fast moving figures, careful to avoid anything standing still, not even bothering to stop firing to increase my accuracy. I was so cranked up on adrenaline i could not even hear the screams of humans, begging for mercy, or bullets whizzing past me, from both sides of the fight. all i heard was the satisfying rat-a-tat-tat of my m16. Until i had heard the one sound you don't want to hear. click.
Seemingly perfect in que, a lone soldier stood out from the others, he was carrying a an AKM with a bayonet attatched. He had gotten closer and could only afford to bring my own M9 knife to challenge the enemy. In milliseconds he had figured out what to do. A quick stab into the spring soldier's left leg to throw him off balance and make him trip into the foxhole.eject knife from his left and quickly plunge the knife into his throat.
With pinpoing precision i had quickly done just that. Realizing i had no time to reload my assault rifle, i quickly raised my beretta and fired shots much more accurately before, due to the fog clearing out for the most part, most of them finding their targets, and i had ran out of ammo again, and raised my knife, for what would probably be the last moments of my life. Except they no longer advanced. the war seemed to stop as the Chinese dumbly stared into the sky. I cared little for what would be so interesting for them to stare into the cloudy skies like that, and reloaded my m16, and continued my killing spree. The Russian infantry in my line of sight slowly began to flee, apparently what grabbed their attention so much, combined with my gunfire sent them running. After i began reloading again i heard a noise. The noise of what sounded like fire. The noise was broken by a few soldiers, on both side screaming. I had quickly turned my head to what had been causing more chaos than the battle itself, and did not like what i found. It was a missile. That's when i realized, we were the bait, but not for reinforcements to arrive to bravely counter attack. We were there to lure the enemy into a mushroom cloud of death, and we were in the blast radius.
As i had observed the missile i had hoped that the missile would pass over us and hit another objective, but when the missile started angling down, i had known my fate was sealed. I had closed my eyes, and remembered everyone. Mom, Dad, Mike, Grace, Hailey.
Hailey. That last word echoed through my mind as the loud ringing in my ears were silenced, and my vision was completely black.
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"I hate her! i can't stand her! I worshiped her for all this time, and she cant even give me lousy flying lessons!?" i had thought to myself as i drove my scooter to the clubhouse. I was steaming with rage. The last person who i thought cared for me stabbed me in the back. It was clear what everypony wanted. If nopony wanted to bother to give two bits about me, i'll give them what they asked for. " I'm leaving this town for good!"
I had pulled out a piece of paper but searched thoroughly for a pen or pencil, though there were none to be found. I had stepped on a few crayons through my search, and as i lifted up my hoof to see what it was i had destroyed, i had found two broken crayons. Orange and cyan. i had picked up a piece of paper they were sitting on top of. It was a painting of me and Rainbow Dash. I had taken the purple crayon that was on the side and sloppily jotted down a note.
Dear ponies of Ponyville, it's clear you dont want me any more because absolutely nopony even
guessed where my home was or who my parents were. That doesn't matter though, as of this moment, i'm running away from
this town. You shouldn't worry though, because i don't think this would be that big of a difference to your lives. -Scootaloo
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Author's notes: This is my first story, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, insults and such will not be tolerated in the comments sections. I hope to get chapter 2 (chapter 1 if you don consider this a prologue. . .) by the end of this week, please thumb up or down, and comment!