"Croft, wake up, wake up you stuburn mule, come on man we are pinned down we need you."
As the day grew on Croft thought it was a routine mission, get in, get out. Simple right? Wrong, The CAF(Colt Advanced Force) Consisting of six Colts recived the mission of takeing a market in Hayistan, but when an RPG shell finds it's way into blowing the doors off of the Humvee, throwing Croft out, the six Colts are left for dead. The mission after starting only a couple of minutes before was already heading south.
Through blurry eyes all Croft could see were his friends, no not his friends, but his brothers, proud to call himself one of their brothers. His sight grew ever more luminous; he noticed something warm and seemed to trickle ever so slowly from the side of his head. It soon came into view, it was…. Blood. His brain kicked into overdrive, trying to recall anything from what happened just a few minutes ago, nothing. His attention focused on the scene around him tearing his eyes that were so fixated on his blood stained hoofs. His obscured vision was fading, being replaced with the sight of destruction…. Where am I? Then it hit him, smacking him in the face as though he was child being scolded by his mother, I’m at war. Using little strength he turned his head to the right, Ruffle a strong colt worn down by carrying the squads 50cal, sat beside him, he looked worse then the way Croft felt. Croft knew that if he was wounded that bad, something has gone wrong, something has gone extremely wrong.
A flashback popped into his head, it was earlier that day, information he picked up from the papers on the officers table, he had assumed it was orders too stay put in the FOB and wait for further information, but it was actually advancement orders, telling The Colt Advance force to take the market in a city in the country Hayistan. It flashed forward a couple hours; the squad, consisting of Corporal Ruffle- whom is the 50cal gunner and is built as though he was five colts in one, Private Hay- a younger energetic colt with a ruff background, Private Cloud Runner- whose more quiet and stays to himself but is an excellent distance shot, Private First Class Abe- whose heritage yields a Colt in every war since the war for independence from Barbten, Sergeant Clats- a former Lieutenant who was demoted for actions that reflected badly on the army, then there was me, Private First Class Croft- a kid with no idea what he was getting into.
He was shook from the flashback, a quick jerk of a camouflaged hoof meet Crofts eyes. With a glance up he saw Abe shinning a light into his eyes.
“So sleeping beauty wakes.” Abe said.
“Huh?” Croft said with a quizzical look on his face, wondering how Abe was able to find any humor in what was going on.
“Sergeant Clats, Crofts up and ok except for his face, I doubt we can do anything to fix it.” Abe said handing craft a shard of a mirror he saw laying on the ground.
Croft looked into the shard, checking his face for what Abe meant, but nothing was wrong aside a few cuts. Abe was still joking not takeing this seriously. Abe patched a bandage around the spot on Crofts head that stung a little, after handing his rifle to Croft; he then turned and started his meticulous work on Ruffle patching up the best he could the big brute. Croft took the rifle and dragged himself to his feet, he released the mag, checked the bullets, then pulled the charging handle back releasing the bullet that was in the chamber, and aimed the rifle down the road. The cover that was surrounding the squad wasn’t the cover that Croft remembered right before he passed out, the scenery of where he was before he passed out was the inside of a Humvee.
Then it hit him magically, they were pushing fast into town, not stopping for anything. Mortars landed all around the two Humvee’s, tearing scars in the surface of the earth, small arms fire riveted the air leaving traces of dust where they landed in the sand, or pings off the sides of the Humvee’s. No one armed the M203 machine turret on their Humvee, leaving the turret hatch closed and not allowing any access of bullets that wanted to make their way in from above the squad. The two humvee’s raced towards their objective, leaving an ever fading trail behind them. Clats had taken the wheel, Ruffle sat passenger, and Croft sat in the back seat behind Clats, then… then, he drew a blank as he snapped from the flashback. He had to remain ready regardless of what happened he had to remain ready to fire. He saw a flash from a building, then a crack of a rifle.
“SNIPER!!!!!” Croft yelled, getting down behind the makeshift cover he had. He looked over at Cloud Runner who was sitting still, having his rifle pointed in the direction of the shot, Hay had the distance scope also aiming in the same direction, but he was sitting as still as Cloud. There was no way that shot was possible from the standard AR-15, but he proved Croft wrong before. He aimed, adjusted for wind, and watched. Then the crack of Clouds rifle was heard, causing the sniper to fall half way out of the window, dangling the sniper rifle in his hoof.
“Snipers KIA.” Cloud Runner said. Taking and replacing his scope for iron sights.
“Get sum!!!!!!” A ruff familiar voice came following the loud thumping of a 50cal. Could it be, was it Ruffle? Croft turned and saw the flash of bullets as they left the barrel, then his eyes moved along the gun to see the owner of the voice blasting the heavy turret in the direction that most of the enemy’s fire was coming from. He was bleeding through his ACU on his left arm, and scratches on his face showed a small trickle of blood as well, trickling downward. He saw Croft looking at him, with a small smile “What’s wrong Croft? Just because you can come back from the living dead doesn’t mean I can’t?” Croft snuck a little smile but turned and blasted as well at the enemy.
Then the worse sound ever, filled the air, CLICK!
“I need a mag now!!!” Croft yelled, reaching and searching for a mag on what remained of his ACU Kevler vest. He reached fot his mag pouch and noticed it was empty with a hole at the bottom, a stile of fear filled him, then he remembered, that one bullet that landed just a couple feet away, it was better then nothing. He looked over expecting it to rest above the sand, but what he saw took that quick second of security away. Where it landed laid brass everywhere. It was hopeless.
“Croft here, take this!” Clats passed one of his most prized possessions at Croft. It was Clats fathers .45cal Colt which he carried through the war with Istanbull.
Croft held it close knowing the importance of something so simple. He had received two pistol mags full of seven shots plus the mag in the gun. Three mags, twenty-one shots, is what stood between him and death. Croft slid the slide back, revealing the bullet in the mag, his refection shown from the shinny surface of the polished brass that rested in the chamber, it caught his eye as the slide slid forward, concealing the bullet in the barrel. Was this the way it was meant to be? Would there ever be any peace on earth, he looked around starring from face to face of each and every Colt in his squad all his brothers he might never see again. This battered gear-headed squad is suppose to take a whole city let alone the market that was so important? Why are we even here, out gunned, out numbered, out of ammo, and out of……time.
“Ahhhhhh!!!” Croft yelled throwing himself from his bed side ways, and landing face down in the carpeted floor of his barracks.
His eyes were wide open trying to take in the composition of the darkened room, it was the barracks, the place where he felt safest, and it was his home. He took in the dark rooms scenery, not much to look at just a few beds, a couple chairs, an old television that only played VCR’s, and four doors each leading to a different extent of the Barracks A-2.
A hoof touched his shoulder from behind, making him jump up and quickly turn on the strange clasp. It was Ruffle, his friend and best bud since High school. Ruffles eyes seemed to look at Croft with an interrogating gaze that would make a little fill shake in their boots,
“Croft, you screamed in your sleep, you alright?” The brute colt asked, trying to get any information from his friend who now stood and was gathering the items he had fallen out of bed with
“I...I’m fine, just a little spooked at the thought that tomorrow we are taking a city…By our selves, ALONE.” Croft said, trying not to reveal the dream of his group being sent in to take the city, being meet by a volley of RPG’s, machine gun fire, and people who hated there guts.
“ALL AVAILABLE TROOPS REPORT TO THE STAGING AREA, CAF, AND APDF (Aerial Pegasus Defense Force) REPORT TO HANGER F-1, THIS IS NOT A DRILL, THIS IS REAL!” A loud voice came over the intercom, followed by the sound of colts and mares jumping from their warm bunks and gathering their gear,
“This is not a drill…” Croft repeated in his head, that only means one thing, we are going into battle.
“CAF team you are to take two Humvees, armed with a .50 and an M203 machine turret, and make your way to objective A where APDF will support your team from the roof tops. You’ll have to exit the Humvees and secure the area so we can start sending in more and more squads, after you have secured the LZ in the market, you are to link up with Sgt. Habble of the 7th Division ground crew and he will escort you out of the DMZ. Now, CAF squad, you’ll be on your own from the start of your mission, APDF will provide fire from the tops of these buildings here,” Captain Forest pointed with his hoof at three solid buildings that seemed to be surrounding the market, “Now any question?”
“Captain, this seems like madness, you are pretty much sending us into a kill box…Sir!” Clats preached to the Captain, who was quick to come back with an explanation.
“Sergeant Clatts, you know your orders. Follow them!” The Captain noted in a rather harsh voice.
Before be demoted Clats and Forest were really great friends, but when Forest blamed Clats for the killing of innocent civilians during a routine exercise, Clats was the CO and he took full punishment. Forest, became Captain for indicating Clats for the mishap. Though our testimonies meant nothing to the jury, they demoted him instead of hanging, and stuck him under the command of his old friend. We all know the truth, it wasn’t his fault, so we still follow his orders even though our superior office is Forest, and no one really listens to the new officer.
“Croft, Ruffle, Hay, Cloud, Abe, and Clats get your gear, you’re heading out at, O600 hours, don’t have too much fun.” The grimacing Captain said looking at the small squad of brothers in arms.
O400hours Croft laid his gear out, inspecting every piece. A pair of night vision goggles, around four smoke grenades all of different color, 6 frag grenades, a couple road flares, some 25 feet of heavy duty cord, eleven mags for his M16, three mags for his Beretta 9mm, his Kevlar vest, two flash lights with extra batteries, an MRE, and his helmet, oh yea, he reached under his bunk. Duck tape. All this laid out in front of him, his M16 and pistol rested in the armory which was not allowed in to the barracks, but that’s all that was missing. The need to take all precautions in the face of any type of emergency, he had all the solutions He almost forgot his med kit that was issued to each soldier. He began to pack each individual item carefully, not to leave important items at the bottom. A sound behind him bayed him away from his task at hand.
“Croft, you ready for the mission yet?” The familiar voice of an old friend perked his spirits up.
“Ya bet I’m ready Ruffle.” Croft finished packing his sack and head to claim his rifle along with Ruffle. He thought what the hay this will be easy, get in get out, what could happen, but those few words set the wheel in motion of the coming battle.
Pulling the colt .45 away from his chest, Croft slid back into position behind the back half of the wrecked Humvee.
“Croft watch your 3, I see movement in your direction!” Abe said over the loud thud of Ruffles 50 cal.
“I see them, watch your 10 Abe!” Croft yelled back, stealing a quick glance in direction which the voice originated from.
Croft took aim, but didn’t fire, all that laid before him and death were those measly 21 bullets. He couldn’t afford to miss his mark. He saw the shadows of the enemy dancing on the buildings, but his targets wouldn’t dare stick their heads out. This scenario reminded Croft of Basic.
“Hey Abe, remember what Drill Sergeant Waldo said?” Croft yelled to his comrade.
“When In Doubt, a nade should go out!” Abe said with a grin on his face, and reaching for his grenade pouch. Find his grenades, he passed one to Croft.
“GERNADE OUT!!!” Croft yelled, pulling the pin and lobbing it high into the sky in the direction of the shadows.
KABOOM, the grenade found its mark on the wall and exploded. Croft looked through the dust the best he could, to see if the shadows would run and charge in his direction, but after a couple seconds passed all he heard was the thud of Ruffles .50cal.
“Croft, Abe, and Hay! I need you guys to secure that restaurant; we can use it as our operations camp till APDF arrives, or until Sergeant Habble arrives.” Clatts told his team he though would be more suitable to clear the building, and set up connections with HQ.
“Understood sir.” The Three colts replied in unison, looking at the building that Clatts was pointing too.
Croft glanced in the Humvee searching for anything that could be useful before heading over. Something caught his eyes, something that seemed so familiar, his back pack. He never quiet wondered what happened to it till he saw the pack. He reached in to grab the sack, careful not to cut his arms up on the ragged metal sides of the once new Humvee. He pulled it from the carnage and searched the ragged sack for his tools. He found his grenades, two clips for an M4, his cord, and duck tape. A small box laid under his sack he noticed when he glanced in once again, Caution High Explosives Trip Mine. In other words, claymores.
He grabbed them as well as the M4 he left laying on the ground and followed his small squad to the restaurant.
Abe and Hay both laid them selves on the wall next to the door waiting for Croft, “You coming Croft?” Hay said in a shaky voice, questioning his courage for the first time in a long time. “So, I guess I’ll go first.” He said as Croft laid up against the other side of the door.
Hay turned to face the door and with one solid kick, the door swung open, a blast of heat and explosive smoke meet the three comrades as the door and walls were blown from the building.
“Ahhhhh!!!” Croft yelled at the top of his lungs.
Croft, Abe, and Hay were all thrown from the side of the building, sent flying like ragdolls through the air, as though they were nothing. Croft was engulfed in the flame as his body was tossed in the air, the fire that surrounded him faded away.
BUZZZZZZZZZ… Is all he heard for the time being, his thoughts though were more concerned for the team, and if any pony had been seriously injured.
Hay stood in front of the door, so he took most of the blast, he was the most important. Croft thought as he raced over to where Hay had landed, which Croft had guessed was rough about 30 meters away. He looked fine, except for minor burns and cuts, and hadn’t responded to Croft when he asked if he was ok. His hearing was gone, the same as his own.
“CROFT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” The colt asked. “DO YOU NEED ASSISTANCE? I FEEL FINE, EXCEPT FOR MY EYE, I THINK YOU SHOULD CHECK ON ABE THOUGH!”
“Croft, help…” Abe said in a weak voice.
Croft raced on to help him, he was buried under the wall which once stood erect, and provided protection for the three ponies. All Croft was able to make out was the upper half of the colt, but even that half was so bloody and damaged it was hard to look at.
“Croft… I want you to take this please. Can you make sure it gets home for me?” The battered pony reached inside his ACU’s vest pocket and reveled a small neatly folded envelope. Croft knew what was contained in the envelope; he was hesitant to take it. Abe looked him in the eyes,
“Don’t look too worried, you’ll see me soon enough. Oh, by the way, Marry yea she liked me first.” The humorous colt took one last breath, laid down on his back looking at the sky; a small tear filled the eye of the brave colt that would put his life on the line for his country. He shut his eyes and he didn’t open them again.
Croft stared at Abe, he didn’t know what to do, or what actions would anyone do. He reached for Abe’s neck, grabbed the shinny silver chain, and with one good yank it popped off. In his hands were two bloody dog tags. The blood covered half of the information on them, he folded them, opened a pocket in his vest put the envelope, the dog tags, and Abe’s wedding ring in his pocket.
“CROFT, WHATCH YOUR 2 O’CLOCK!” The half deaf, half blinded, pony yelled to his friend.
Hay was up and moving now, his right eye looked like its seen better days, but he shoot lefty so he was alright. His energy came from pure adrenaline. His anger though burned in his heart, he knew Abe was gone, he didn’t need too look. He just had an out of body feeling when someone close to him died.
Hay and Croft returned to the building, this time looking ever so carefully for tripe wires, and booby traps that the enemy left for the soldiers to find. The staircase was still intact but badly burnt. One by one the two ponies took each step up the staircase so gingerly as to not brake through the burnt wood and scorched cement stairs.
With one last step they stood at the top of the stairs, they looked at each,
“Ready?” Croft asked in a hushed voice.
“WHAT?!!” Hay said back.
Croft quickly slapped a hoof over Hay’s mouth, and used his other hand to explain what to do. The two quickly opened the door and meet, no one on the roof. Croft grabbed the radio out of Hay’s backpack and contacted the rest of the group,
“Its all clear sir! Bring what you can up to the top floor, and watch out on the stairs, they’re badly burnt.” Croft informed his CO.
