//------------------------------// // Memories // Story: Broken Arrow // by Army Brony //------------------------------// I'm shuffling through my pockets, desperately trying to find something. I've lost it, I kept thinking to myself. I reach into my left cargo pocket on my ACU trousers, and pull out a familiar object. A small plastic zip lock bag. “There you are,” I say to myself. I promptly moved the bag to my left breast pocket just as the plane comes to a screeching halt on the runway. Not a moment after I exit the plane I am greeted by an officer. “Sergeant Ackerman, Second Lieutenant Redford, Second Infantry Division.” “Second to None sir!” I boldly exclaim the 2ID motto as I salute him. “Fight Tonight sergeant!” he says as he returns the salute. “Welcome to Korea Sergeant,” he extends his hand. “Thank you sir.” I shake his hand. “I assume you have been briefed on the situation sergeant?” “Yes I have sir.” “Good. You will be assigned to 2-9 Infantry, Manchus. They are the first line of defense, so needless to say you will be seeing some action.” He said it as if it was a warning, like I wasn't used to combat. “Sir, with all due respect, I've seen more than my fair share of combat in Afghanistan. I can more than handle myself.” I said, not realizing just how wrong I was. The scene starts to change, like someone hit the fast-forward button. I'm taking cover behind a downed HWMMV. The sound of gunfire and explosions bombard my eardrums. I look to my right, at the radioman. PFC Jenkins was his name. Never knew when to shut up, but a damn good soldier none-the-less. “JENKINS! RADIO IN FOR CLOSE AIR SUPPORT PRONTO!” “ROGER SERGEANT!” he keyed in the mic “HUNTER TWO-FOUR, THIS IS DEMON SIX-NINER! REQUESTING ONE-ZERO-FIFE HEAT ON LAZED TARGET, DANGER CLOSE!” I popped up and took a few more pot-shots at the enemy. I heard the response from the AC-130 gunship above me over the net. “Roger that. One-zero-fife HEAT, danger close. Awaiting laser designation.” “LAZE THE TARGET!” I screamed to my squad taking cover behind a downed Abrams. I popped up and started to provide cover fire for the SOFLAM operator. “Target acquired, firing.” The three T-90's then erupted in a multitude of fiery explosions. The rain of high explosives ceased, and the smoke cloud started to dissipate. “Tangos neutralized, have a nice day six-niner,” the AC-130 radio operator said. The scene changes again, only this time it was like someone just hit skip. I'm on my knees, tears in my eyes and streaming down my face. I look at the gruesome sight before me. All around me are bodies, the bodies of my friends, my buddies, my brothers, my soldiers. I look down. I am holding up the head of my dying friend, PFC Jenkins. He's been shot in the chest and stomach so many times that I lost count. I had carried him for a mile and a half to the exfil sight. The choppers were in sight, not even 50 meters in front of us, but something was wrong. There weren't any pilots to greet us, no rangers providing security, and nobody from my squad to help us on board. There were bodies. Bodies of the pilots, bodies of the rangers, and bodies of my squad. I looked on in horror as I came to a grim realization. It's a trap. Not a moment after the thought crossed my mind did I stand in shock as the two Chinooks were engulfed in flames right in front of us. “No...” was all I could manage. I dropped to my knees, too weak to stand. “We aren't gonna make it, are we?” Jenkins asked. “I'm afraid not kid...” I then proceeded to do something I had not done in a very long time. Something I thought I would never do again. I cried. It started out slow, a sob here and there, and grew into a full-on fit of tears. As Jenkins lay before me taking his last breath, he said something that would've made me fall flat on my face were it not for me being an emotional wreck. “I'm sorry.” “Wha- what for?” I asked between sobs. “I wouldn't have gotten shot if I had stayed in cover like you told me to. And for that I'm sorry.” His body went limp just as he finished. I was speechless. Why was he sorry? If he hadn't jumped out of cover to grab PVT Collins, he would be dead. He IS dead. I reminded myself. I heard footsteps behind me, and I faced about to meet them, M4 at the ready. “WOAH! BLUE ON BLUE! FRIENDLY!” the man exclaimed. “Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck do you want?” I spat, still holding my weapon at the ready. “Major Clint, 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta. You can address me by my call-sign, Blaze.” My mind flashed to an image of the Wonderbolts for a split second. I quickly got back to the situation at hand. “What do you want?” I asked, lowering my M4. “The same thing you do.” “And what is that?” “You wanna get off this God forsaken peninsula. And me and what's left of my squad have a plan to do so. Unless you wanna stay and end up like them.” he pointed to the bodies littering the tarmac. I just about had it with this asshole. I raised my M4 to muzzle-thump him. The events which followed happened in a matter of seconds. As I pulled back to strike, I heard the magazine of my M4 hit the ground. I thrust forward, only to find myself empty-handed. “I wouldn't try that if I were you.” a voice behind me stated, cold and callus as death itself. “Cool it, Frost.” Blaze said. I looked behind me, and I almost instantly found out why he called this guy Frost. His eyes looked like they could scare the shit out of Lucifer himself. His skin was pale, almost to the point of being albino. Quite frankly, he looked like death. “Like what you see, pretty boy?” he said, colder than before. I shuddered. “Frost!” Blaze said in a harsh but collected tone. Frost backed off, glaring icy daggers at me. “Back to business. I have an open spot after my weapons sergeant got killed in the first assault. I would be more than happy for you to fill said spot.” “I'm just a tank mechanic. I don’t know the first thing about being infantry, much less Delta...” “Look, I saw you, the way you fought, the way you ran a mile and a half carrying the dead weight of your friend there without stopping. You've got it in you, and I can help you bring it out. I can provide you with not only a means to get off this rock, but a way of avenging your squad.” “How can I trust you?” “You can't. But what have you got to lose?” I contemplated this for a second. “A means of escape and a way of avenging my soldiers?” Blaze nodded. “Count me in.” “Welcome to Delta Force.” Blaze concluded with a cocky smirk. My life is put on fast-forward again. I am in a boxing ring. Standing in front of me is Rapidfire, the squads' expert on close combat and knife fighting. “Alright, here are the rules,” Blaze started “rule one, there are no rules. Now go to your corners, come out fighting, and finish bloody as fuck!” he concluded as he struck the bell. I turned around just in time to see the fist flying at my face. I promptly blocked it, countering with a punch of my own. Strike after strike, block after block. Neither of us were getting any decent hits on the other. Blaze was determined to change that. He tossed in two knives. Not plastic, not wood. Sharp, semi-serrated, 8-inch metal knives. I scrambled for the nearest one. Rapidfire beat me to both. He came at me with a knife in each hand, and I struggled to dodge and block each strike. He repeatedly sliced my forearms until my ACU sleeves were a dark shade of red. I stumbled, dazed from both the lightning speed of his flurry, and the amount of blood I was losing. He then slashed at my heart. I narrowly escaped the blade but soon fell to my knees. I felt the cold steel of the blade being pushed up against my jugular. “Check and mate. Rapidfire wins.” Blaze stated as he entered the ring. “What have we here?” I looked to see what Blaze was walking towards. It was my plastic bag. It must have fallen out when Rapidfire slashed at my heart. Blaze bent down to pick it up. He opened it and emptied it of its contents. “Is this you're family?” he asked, holding the picture up. “Yes. Yes it is.” “Hmm. Do you miss them?” “Sometimes.” “Sometimes?” “Okay, fine. I miss them with all my heart and I can't wait to get back to see them. Now can I have my bag back?” “Not so fast.” Blaze held up the patch of a cloud with a rainbow bolt coming out from the bottom. Rapidfire looked at the cutie mark patch, then to me. He was smiling. I had never seen him smile outside of combat, so it kind of frightened me that he was smiling at me. Great. He's gonna kill me. I thought fearfully to myself. Blaze snapped me out of it. “Huh. Looks like you two have a lot more in common than just your abilities in the ring.” Blaze stated “Wouldn't you agree, Rapid?” Wait a sec. Did blaze just imply- “I guess so.” Rapidfire replied “I'm still about twenty percent cooler than him, though.” No. Fucking. WAY! Rapidfire strolled up to me with an awkward smirk on his face. He stuck a fist out. For a second I thought he was going to hit me. “Brohoof.” I smile and raise my fist to meet his own... “Ackerman” “What was that?” I asked. “What was what?” Blaze said. “Ackerman!” “THAT!” “WHAT?!” “ACKERMAN!!!!!” My whole world starts to spin. The color and light start to blend together, spinning down into what could only be described as an invisible drain, darkness is left in its wake. Wake. Wake. Awake. I need to wake up. I need to be awake. I start to open my eyes.