Nearing the Edge

by Eagle

All Over the Map

April 24th, 2006
1300 Hours
West of Vanhoover

Watching the battered group of marines and Australians pour through the line was a sobering experience for the men of the Twenty-Third Infantry Division. Equestrian troops had been trickling through to the line since the war started, either individually or in groups. They were one thing, but the condition their other human allies were in showed the seriousness of the foe they had to stare down.

Since then, the frontline had been kept occupied. Changeling aircraft and artillery harassed them at common intervals. The Changeling infantry picked at them constantly, but a major assault against the line had still not come.

“I'm hoping the forward OPs can get back in time,” Private Mel commented as he observed the woods ahead of the line in the failing light.

“If they spot the bugs soon enough they will,” Corporal Min pointed out.

“Hey boys, heads up!” Private Barth whistled. “Sergeants are back.”

The men rose to their feet, heading out the door of the concrete bunker and over the edge of the connected trench. Sergeant Andrew and Staff Sergeant Moreland were walking uphill towards them, both toting a fair carry of extra ammunition in boxes. The troops of the squad gathered around them, as well as some of the others in the area to hear the news they brought with them.

“What’s the word, Sergeant Moreland?” Barth asked.

“About what we thought. Petrov, come grab this ammo will ya?” the Staff Sergeant said as he handed his boxes off. “Battalion says the Changelings will attack soon. Sometime tonight. Odds are they’re going to put pressure on the whole division, all along the line.”

“They going to try and break through our spot?”

“Sounds like it. Our sector is where the 6th connects to the guys from the 27th Infantry, so they’re definitely going to be laying it on to try and split us apart.”

“So that means they’ll send tanks our way, shit!” Private Jermaine realized. “I do not need to get run over, Sir. I got a serious problem with getting run over by tanks.”

“They probably have at least one heavy division supporting them. Their tanks will probably hang back and provide fire on our hardpoints from a distance; support the infantry while they infiltrate the lines. Armored blitzkrieg isn't the Bug’s style. At least not in areas like this.”

“Artillery too?”

“Unknown. Assume so, though. We’ve got plenty of it too, so just be thankful for that.”

“Shit man, this is bad.”

“Now don’t worry Private, you won’t be getting run over,” Andrew assured him, trying to comfort the fearful soldier. “Besides, we got plenty of tanks on our side too.”

“What’s the plan, Sarge?” Min asked.

“We know how they fight. They’ll infiltrate but if they get through the line everyone will just hold up in some of the bunkers as harpoints and shoot anything that’s not on two legs moving past,” Moreland told them. “If it gets to that stage it’s a matter of holding out and doing as much damage to the passing enemy as possible until the relief force can counterattack and reach us. We’ve got plenty of ammo and supplies in the bunkers so use it as needed; if you can keep fire superiority and keep them suppressed so they can’t move. Just hunker down and ride out the storm, everyone got that?”

Moreland was answered by a broken chorus of confirmation from the surrounding soldiers.

“And do not retreat either, got it? I get that’s already drilled into everyone but when I say you stand fast and hunker down, you do that. Don’t start freaking out if you get surrounded, don’t start running if you see them getting through in some spots. Holdouts are what’s needed to stop the whole damn tide, and if one collapses they’ll flood through the opening much quicker than through a few breaches. We will not retreat and we will not order a retreat; the only fallback order that holds weight will come from battalion or higher. Does everybody understand?”

Again the Staff Sergeant was give the various affirmations, with the usual misplaced timing and enthusiasm.

“Come on, convince me! I said is that understood!?”

“Yes Staff Sergeant!” the men yelled back in a much more unified and solid display.

“Good. Now try and get some rest and do whatever needs to be done, only a few hours left before nightfall and we’ll need everyone on the line,” he finished, remembering another request from one of the tank commanders he had been asked to deliver. “One more thing about our vehicles. Keep the Bugs from swarming them. They'll be able to lay into them from range, so they’re important for the defense. Most of the tanks are hull-down so they can't just take off, so keep an eye on them.”

Most of the remaining time was spent readying the fortifications and their weapons for the upcoming battle, the long lines of bunkers, trenches, and gun positions running along the Longleg River. Some of the men were still wary; twice before there had been reports of a major enemy offensive that sent them into a scramble. Still, they understood one would come before long.

Sergeant Andrew sat with Moreland in the upper gun deck of one of the main bunkers, discussing their past hunting experiences from back home while trying to stay awake. The Changeling’s unrivaled skills in deception and harassment had kept much of the division on edge, wearing it down as the days to the main offensive ticked down. Most of the Americans were tired and anxiously anticipating it.

The time came shortly after midnight, with an artillery barrage that was far more concentrated and powerful than the one from before. A mix of shells and rockets pounded the American line as the few outliers in the observation posts frantically called about the mass of movement before them. Several were overrun before they could respond, and those that could retreated to the MLR rather than entertain any delusions of impactful resistance from their lonesome positions.

The American infantry sprang to their positions even as the artillery began to shift to rear areas. Many took cover in the pillboxes and bunkers, which withstood the shock of the bombardment. Moreland himself attempted to asses the situation, not hearing much over the radio in the way of higher orders.

“Drew, you get Alpha team together and get to the trenches to the right! Cover the line between here and pillbox 4A!” he ordered.

“You got it, stay safe now!” his friend replied, heading off to carry out the command.

It was now clear that the Changelings had arrived in stunningly good time and order. Machine guns and rifles of all makes and caliber began to chatter on both sides of the river as a blind firefight broke out. He saw the many figures moving about on the other side of the river, as well as in the ford below. There was no need to wait for any officer as Moreland began to give additional directions to the troops within the bunker.

“Willy! You got anything on the NVG?”

“Lot of movement to our front!”

“Corporal Derleth! Get on the radio and get some more starshells in the air!”

“Going to take a while! Enemy jamming is spiking!”

“Shit, alright. Teller, Boxhall get over here! Get to the bunker roof and start popping flares on the other side of the river! Use the grenade launchers on your rifles, get going!”

The battle was now progressing in its own way as Sergeant Andrew carried out his duties, keeping one eye on the enemy and the other on the men around him. Tracers arced through the darkness everywhere like the swarms of fireflies he would see in the woods back home. Trees and brush and various armored vehicles burned fiercely like campfires. Amongst the front bright illumination flares fell slowly from parachutes like stars falling to earth.

There was always the sickening sound of bullets impacting against the concrete of the bunker wall or the wood and dirt ahead of the trenches. The sounds of fire from various weapons was constant, with small arms and machine guns to the cannons of the armored vehicles. The noise inside the bunkers was especially heavy from the echoing, making communication between each-other difficult.

In the continuing insanity the sergeant repeated the process he had beforehand. He took aim quickly, picked a target, and fired a round or two before ducking down and moving slightly, continuing undisturbed until a reload was needed. He saw at least three Changelings fall definitively in this pattern, and possibly many more. Using burst fire, it came down to putting as many rounds out as possible.

The Abrams to the side of the bunker fired it’s main cannon into the dark at an unseen target. The shot struck a moving BTR-70 that stopped and caught fire, illuminating some of the surrounding area. As with the infantry in the trenches and bunkers, the vehicles were fighting their own battle from the cover of their positions.

The dug-in American tanks carefully picked out their targets; each time an enemy tank or IFV approached to attack the fortifications or cover their advancing foot soldiers they were struck by fire from the main gun of the closest Abrams. Here and there a BTR, a BMP, or a tank belonging to the Changelings would erupt in flames.

The rest of the time was spent emptying burst after burst of machine gun fire into the moving Changeling infantry. If they were close enough, and oftentimes they were, the individual tank commanders would stand up through their hatches and open fire with the .50 caliber machine gun mounted atop the turret, bravely forgoing the protection of the tank’s interior for the hellish battle outside.

Still, they were not invincible. The attacking Changelings quickly grew fond of using anti-tank missiles to snipe away from the far shores. At other areas where a breach was achieved the infantry would circle around and fire their own AT launchers at the backs of the tanks, or clamber atop them outright. By one at a time, as with the American infantry, the 23rd’s armored losses rose; two, then five, then twelve, then to twenty and thirty.

Those men who were not manning vital stations moved along the line, firing as they went. Sergeant Andrew moved about the local position, checking up on his squad and the other soldiers scattered among them in the chaotic battle. He stopped next to Private Jermaine in the trench, firing away over the top with his rifle.

“How are you holding up Private?”

“I could be worse Sir!” he yelled over his own gunfire.

“Doing good on ammo?”

“Affirmative!”

“Good, keep up the fire!”

“I got two of them on our side of the riverbank! Behind that rock!” the Private notified.

Andrew pulled himself up and peeked over the edge of the trench, spying the rock that Jermaine was warning him about. He did not see any Changelings, but trusted his subordinate, yanking his rifle up and firing onto the boulder. The two rifles chattered away, and after half a magazine of ammunition, Andrew saw one of the bullets strike the side of the rock and hit something behind it. One of the Changelings fell to the side, and as his comrade leaned out to help him Jermaine fired a three-round burst into his side, killing the target instantly.

“Good shooting,” the Sergeant complimented, ducking down before a burst of AK fire struck the dirt embankment of the trench. “We got to reposition and keep fighting! Come on, follow me! Let’s go see how Barth is doing.”

The squad’s experience in this sector was common among the entire front. Firefights had erupted all along the line as the Americans of the 23rd Division attempted to find and kill their opponents in the dark cover. In fact, Moreland and the 1st Battalion were having a better night than some of their allies.

At the other neighboring sector, the 5th Battalion, 31st Infantry fought its own battle of survival in the night. A massive volume of fire erupted ahead of them as the Changeling assault groups moved in. The Americans shot back as best they could, but it was an increasingly difficult task and the battle soon expanded to one of close quarters. Before long Alpha Company’s line had been breached to the right and very nearly overrun entirely, forcing part of it to retreat and reform the line in a contorted curve, less the entire line get attacked from the rear. The battalion’s commander, Colonel Landish, was killed overseeing this process when a Changeling ATGM struck the wooden bunker he was taking cover in.

Moreland’s squad continued unaware of the bigger picture, only focusing on killing the attackers. To Andrew it seemed like he was the only one taking time to check his allies rather than be totally focused to the front. Each time he did, the images were the same. Petrov and Barth firing their LMGs into the killzone, Sergeant Garcia shooting blindly at the woods where he saw tracers coming from, Mel trying and failing to be more precise and pick out the Changeling gunners laying into their positions from afar.

“Sergeant Carlton!”

“Evening Lieutenant Barras,” Andrew greeted the platoon commander simply, as if the battle were not even occurring.

“Where’s Staff Sergeant Moreland?”

“He was back up at Bunker Four last I saw him, though that was a while ago.”

“Alright listen Sergeant. There’s too much jamming for the radio to work right and the lines got cut by shellfire. I need a runner to send a message back to battalion HQ. Can you spare anyone?”

“Hang on Sir, I’ll go find someone!”

The older sergeant took off down the trench, searching for anyone who could be spared. To the Lieutenant’s surprise, he returned in a timely manner with two others in tow. One a wide-eyed PFC that seemed to be jittering lightly, and the other a private that seemed to be older than average, similar to Andrew.

“Lieutenant, you needed some help?” The PFC shouted over the noise.

“He needs you boys to take a message back to battalion HQ. That’s you Mel,” Andrew said before looking over to the other private. “Danny you make sure he gets there! I don’t need anyone getting lost in the dark.”

“I’ll take care of him!” he promised.

“Private Mel was it? This is for you,” said Barras as he handed over a wrinkled, folded note. “You give that to the Colonel. Now listen, the Bugs have gotten all around us and there’s plenty of stragglers running around behind our lines. Be careful out there and stay frosty, and make sure you don’t shoot any of our guys by mistake. Watch out for each-other and get your asses back quick! Go!”

The two ran through the dark, away from the mayhem of the front. They restricted their pace as they moved into the night, being wary of the warnings their superior had given. The sounds of battle followed them and echoed over the hills and valleys like a sweeping wind.

Disturbingly, even as they went on, sporadic crackles continued to permeate through the night, originating from nearly every direction. Getting lost in the dark was easy enough without the fear of randomly running into an enemy soldier. Despite taking the early lead and being given the note, the urbanite Min quickly lost his sense of direction.

“Hey, you know where we are?” he asked his companion, taking a knee in the long grass.

“Yeah, I know. You got lost?” Danny realized.

“I guess… but you know right?”

“You city kids just aren’t meant for moving over the land are you?” the older man joked to his squad mate. “Come on, I’ll take the lead. You just stay real close. It’s easy to lose each-other out here.”

“I hate night ops. It’s like moving with a blindfold on,” Min grunted as he followed Danny up a steep incline.

In truth everything about the night was frightening to him. Cities at least had lights, but here there was no telling what would happen. Even with the more-experienced man leading slowly, the fear of getting lost in such an environment was a constant issue.

The dark concealed everything from his sight in a certain distance. The trees, rocks, and various fields and country buildings that could be seen for miles were hidden but for a few feet. Min’s eyes locked to his friend, a barely-recognizable silhouette only just standing out from the dark shade that mimicked his tone and masked his uniform. He felt only a few missteps away from losing him and being left to fend for himself.

“Shh! Hold on! You heard that?” Danny stopped suddenly, allowing Min to catch up. “I heard voices. Just over there. Keep quiet, let’s go have a look.”

Just past a small north-south trail, sitting in the woodline next to a massive spruce, were three Changeling soldiers. Danny spotted them first from their place atop a small rock hill to their side, and Min recognized them not long after. They seemed alert, but not aware of the presence of the two Americans.

“Think we ought to kill them?” Danny asked, holding his M16 close.

“I don’t know, I don’t want this to go wrong. We have to deliver this message… can we go around?”

“Not fast, they’re right in our way,” Danny lamented. “Wonder what the Hell they’re waiting for.”

“That might be a rally point. I wouldn’t stop if I was this far behind enemy lines,” Min theorized. “But if that’s what it is there’s probably a bunch more on their way… yeah, okay let’s kill the bastards.”

“Alright, which one you want?”

“You’re a better shooter at dark so take the farthest one. I’ll get the one laying down. We’ll both try to get the last one, whoever can get to him first.”

“Sounds good, just say when.”

Both soldiers took aim at their respective targets, waiting for the proper moment to shoot. Min fired first, shooting two rounds and striking the Changeling in the shoulder and back, causing him to collapse. His colleague fired at the same time, putting a single round into the enemy’s stomach. The last remaining Changeling took cover next to a tree, but because he could not tell where the fire was coming from, he hid facing the wrong direction, looking the opposite way from them while having his back open. Danny got to him first, again needing only a single shot to kill him.

“That’s it… fuck yeah we did it! Nice work man!” Min jumped. “Wait are we clear? I don’t see anymore.”

“Yeah, we’re clear. Come on, let’s get moving. We can’t waste time.”

The two moved down to where the Changelings had been. To their disturbance, Min’s target was still alive, but badly wounded and writhing on the ground, moaning loudly in pain. Neither man said anything to each other, but there was little they could do. They had a mission, and could not stop to either treat or finish off their enemy.

Danny lead on again, this time into the brush. Min tried to stay much closer, afraid of getting lost in the thicket and becoming a victim like their prey had minutes before. Shoving aside a bush with the butt of his rifle, he continued on before bumping into his friend who had suddenly stopped. An instant later, there was a rustling in the bush near Min, causing him to jerk left in fright as something else pressed through towards them.

“Whoa, watch it!” Danny jumped.

Another Changeling, this one alone, stumbled upon the duo as it pushed through a thick bush. He fell to the ground, dropping his AK in the process, while the two humans immediately took aim. Before he could grab his weapon, both men fired several rounds into him, killing their surprised enemy in the space of a second.

“Jesus that scared me,” he breathed, patting Min on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get the Hell out of here!”

To the duo’s relief, they encountered no one else, neither friend, foe, or civilian, on the rest of their trip. After clearing the wooded area they came upon the battalion headquarters, set up in a rich fen with lights shining out into the dark. Conscious of the fact that they would be hard to identify, and that the guards were more likely to fire first, they tried to make their presence known well in advance, shouting towards the base in attempts to identify themselves before being killed by their own countrymen.

“Hey! Hey hold your fire! Friendlies coming out!” Min yelled as loud as he could, hoping the guards could hear him. “We’re from Delta Company! Don’t shoot guys!”

“Hold where you are!” a voice commanded them.

“We’re American! Third Platoon from Delta! Hold your fire!” Min continued. “Seriously if you guys shoot me now I will fuck you up! I swear!”

“Sam!” the voice finally called out.

“Adams!” Min answered correctly, finally allowing them to relax.

“Alright come on in!”

“Hey, where’s the Colonel?” Min asked as they ran up to the guard’s positions at the headquarters’ gate. “We got an important letter for him.”

“Command tent, same as always,” said the guard as he allowed them in. “Hey, you guys weren’t followed here were you?”

“No-I mean… I don’t know.”

“Fucking shit, thanks a lot dude! I already got enough of those Bugs shooting at me out there!”

The two continued on to the large tent set up in the middle of the camp. The men inside were in a state of pandemonium, trying desperately to carry out orders and discern the murky situation at the front. In the confusion they spotted the battalion commander, Colonel Bryan, speaking with his S-2 in the corner of the tent.

“Colonel Bryan, Sir!” Danny greeted, walking up to him. “We’ve brought something for you, it’s important.”

“Whatever it is it can wait son,” he responded before trying to continue his conversation before Min blatantly interrupted.

“It can’t wait Sir. I’ve got a message from Lieutenant Barras,” he said, pulling out the crumpled paper. “Bugs have overrun the Fifth Battalion on our right, and they’re breaching some parts of the left in Bravo Company’s sector towards the left. Three of our companies and some of the Fifth’s are going to get encircled and there’s a lot more hostiles behind the lines than we thought.”

Bryan grabbed the letter, reading over it himself.

“You read the note?” Danny asked him quietly.

“Yeah when I first got it. I want to know what’s happening too dude.”

“Shit alright. Alright,” Bryan relented, taking a moment to organize his thoughts. “Rich, get Adder Three up and tell them the situation. Get them over to Fifth Battalion’s position to clear it out, and get Adder Two over to Regular One and help them out. Adder Three is to start sweeping the countryside for any enemies that snuck past our lines. Got it?”

“Yes Sir!” the aide answered, running off to send out the commands.

“You two are going to have to stick with me now. I need everyone to help defend HQ,” the Colonel told Danny and Min.

“What about our unit Sir?” the latter asked, clearly not wishing to abandon them.

“You might have gotten through to here before but you won’t get back. The area’s probably crawling with Changelings by now and this place is a prime target. I need everyone here just to hold HQ. Don’t worry, Adder Two is going to help them.”

“Who’re they?”

“Cobras, but worry about this place for now, understand?”

“I got glassed enemies northeast! At least a platoon!” one of the sentries warned over the radio. “Someone get the mortars firing!”

“Get going, find a good spot! Shoot anything coming our way!” Bryan ordered, sending the two on their way as the camp came under a deluge of small arms fire.

Back at the river, the battle had eased but not fully relaxed. In spite of the heavy lambasting, the Changelings had not been able to totally overrun the line or force a significant breach. However, many smaller holes had opened, and the American infantry could not fully stop their opponents from moving through the narrow opening.

Sergeant Andrew had counted his eighth kill of the night when he noticed a new mechanical sound. Further up the river, a platoon of T-72 tanks and another of IFVs were fording across to a breach. They did not seem opposed save for some sporadic small arms fire harassing their accompanying infantry.

“Hey, where are the TOWs at!?” he called out. “Where are the TOWs!?”

“What!?” Sergeant Moreland asked, shimmying closer to hear him better.

“Where’s the TOW launchers!? There’s tanks crossing to the north!”

“They’re out!”

“I guess their armor got tired of taking pot-shots at us, huh Sergeant?”

“If they try to get around us we still have some Gustav rounds for them, don’t worry!”

As the line moved up the bank, over the trenches, and out of sight, there was a sharp eruption and glowing fire rising in the night sky. The first thoughts were some of the accompanying infantry there fighting back with personal anti-armor weapons, or the T-72s themselves doing damage. There was a droning that perforated slightly over the noise, the distinctive sound of helicopter blades. Muzzle flashes began to erupt above the line as the river and opposite bank was struck by multiple bursts of cannon fire.

“You hear that?” Andrew asked.

“I can barely hear anything brother, I’ve been shooting in that bunker last twenty minutes! Echo just fucked my ears!”

“Listen! That buzzing noise? It’s helicopters! They’re hitting the armor!”

“They are? Then we got to direct their fire!” Moreland stated, never letting off the trigger. “Get over to the LT and let him know! He’s still in the big bunker!”

Sergeant Andrew headed off again to find the officer. After reaching the monolithic concrete bunker he ducked inside, climbing two sets of stairs to reach the command deck. The noise within the structure was in some ways worse than it was outside. The noise of gunfire bounced against the thick walls constantly from the steady barrage of bullets from the various machine guns and small arms, chattering away from gun decks and firing slots. The command floor was slightly quieter in it’s isolation, where the tired Sergeant found Lieutenant Barras working on the radio with a Specialist.

“Lieutenant… choppers, friendly choppers,” Andrew gasped, out of breath from the brisk climb. “Friendly attack helos are shooting up the enemy over in Bravo Company’s area.”

“Thank you Sergeant but we’re already aware. We’re trying to contact them now,” the officer replied. “You alright? Catch your breath and head back to your team.”

Andrew complied, taking a moment to breath before leaving again as Barras worked on the radio.

“Regular One-Three to Cobras, do you copy?”

As with the first time, there was no reply. He spoke the message again over and over through the jamming interference, only being able to continue this same process until he reached the gunship pilots. Barras repeated it time and again before a answer was finally received.

“Regular One-Three this is Adder Two, flight of two just above you. We’re reading you three-by-three over.”

“Adder we need some help. We’re under serious pressure and have several small breaches in the lines. Tons of fire from the opposite bank and it’s keeping us in place,” Barras explained. “You’re not directly above us, this is Delta Company less than half a click to your south. Please adjust your position to assist, over.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” the Cobra pilot assured him. “We can’t stick our heads out too long so we’re going to be doing pop-up attacks from behind the line. Just direct our fire so we actually hit the right spots.”

“My boys on the observation deck have a long list for me. There’s plenty of targets, I don’t think you can miss. There is an MG nest near the treeline, at our eleven. That’s eleven from the large bunker to your south between the two hills.”

The Cobras again appeared rose over the front, firing their cannons and missiles. After the machine guns were spotted, four rockets tore the position and the Changelings apart. Cannon shells exploded along the front, striking down a number of unlucky enemies.

In spite of the dark, the two helicopters were large, tempting targets and received a heavy amount of small arms fire from their opponents. Still, hiding behind the hills and rises, they continued the fight, never once dissuaded by the volume of fire. Searching the front through night vision and infrared, they picked away at the Changeling skirmish line.

Barras continued to direct them against any targets that stood out, and other than another T-72 and a BMP no further Changeling vehicles came forward. The defiant Cobras continued to tear apart the front, stitching it with shells and rockets until they ran out, after which they switched to expending the last of their TOW missiles against any Changelings that they could see.

The gunship’s effect on the battle was noticeable. Even after their departure, the pressure from the Changeling offensive tapered off immensely. Their attempts to cross the river had been abandoned altogether, and firefights had subsided to random exchanges along the line. The battle was dying down as the early morning passed, eventually coming to a halt just before the first light. Though the Americans in this position had held their ground, it was still unclear who the victor was as they were cut off physically and through communications to higher command.

Unbeknownst to Moreland, Andrew, and the others, the situation was rapidly working itself out for them. The Changelings had suffered too many casualties for too few breaches in the American lines. The coming of morning saw the 23rd’s men, with heavy reinforcement from units of the 2nd Armored Division, moving to close up the openings in the line. Sporadic artillery fired and planes of both sides traded a few apathetic shots as the fresh group of American tanks from the 2nd swept aside the remaining Changelings in the breaches.

American helicopters and local troops began to comb the area to hunt down the infiltrators. Many were found and killed, themselves now isolated and unsure of the situation. Many others simply surrendered, while a few removed any signs of their military involvement and changed their appearance to that of a pony, attempting to escape by mimicking dazed Equestrian civilians.

Dawn rose to reveal the handiwork of the Americans in its full glorious horror. The Longleg River was filled with the bodies of Changeling soldiers that had failed to cross and died in the fords. The waters, having long shades of green mixed in from the blood, carried some of the corpses downriver until the current washed them up to the riverbank at the sharp bend.

The Changelings did not attempt to hold what little ground they had, pulling back to the starting lines as a few Americans probed ahead and slowly retook the forward positions without a fight. The men began to scour over the area, looking over the effects of the battle from the terrain damage to the mechanical and organic destruction added in. The division had suffered, and Delta Company shared a part of that, but Moreland’s squad itself had survived without casualties, something that was not fully known until Min and Daniels returned in the late morning.

“Oh shit, look who made it through!” Private Barth announced as the two reunited with their squad.

“Good to see you too guys,” Min responded.

“Where were you all last night? I was thinking you got blown up somewhere.”

“The Lieutenant sent us on a run back to the battalion CP. We were stuck there the rest of the night helping protect it, and getting shot at by Bugs.”

“You didn’t see those Cobras shooting up the bad guys?” Daniels asked. “That was ‘cause of us.”

“We should thank you then,” Corporal Petrov said blankly. “They stopped the enemy attack for good.”

“Yeah, I guess we can call this a victory for the good guys huh?” Min declared. “Hey, where’s Mel? Don’t tell me he got hit?”

“Nah, he’s fine, our squad didn’t lose anyone,” Moreland answered calmly. “I sent him and Jermain to help with cleanup duty down by the river. See?”

Private Min hopped up to the edge of the trench and looked down, picking out his two comrades amongst the many other American soldiers tenderly collecting the Changeling bodies and piling them up neatly.

“This is fucked man,” Jermain complained, dragging a dead Changeling by the hooves to the corpse line. “I mean I get they’re not human at least but I don’t need this. I can’t look at some of these guys, it makes me feels sick. This is really messed up.”

“You got to look for the positives in things man,” Mel advised, going through the uniform of another dead enemy.

“The fuck is good about picking up bodies?”

“Well you get first catch for the loot. Like this, check this out,” Mel said, going through the pocket, pulling out a small candybar, and tossing it to his comrade. “See? There’s good things about everything, you just have to look for them.”

“Shit man, looting bodies?”

“They don’t need that stuff anymore. Besides the intel geeks like to go through some of them for paper and stuff. You think they don’t snag a few things off them?” Mel asked, dressing down the body to move it. “If it makes you feel better I’m not going to take wedding rings, if the Bugs even have shit like that.”

“I don’t think I’d like someone looting my body, but I don’t want to die out here at all.”

“You got to find happiness somewhere,” Mel advised him in a more solemn tone as he carried the Changeling body over. “Otherwise we’re as good as dead anyways.”

Jermaine unwrapped the top end of the candybar and took a large bite off the treat, savoring it and shoving the rest in his pocket before returning to task.

Author's Note:

Another big thanks to TNB for pre-reading. I'm always thankful, and I doubt I'd be doing this stuff without the things he's done.

By the way if you're interested in non-horse stories, he's written a fight pilot buddy comedy story. I read the first few chapters and it's pretty comfy, definite recommend. Go ahead and ask him about it if you'd like to give it a read.