I stood on a rocky hillside in a country thousands of miles from my home. I had a sniper's rifle nestled in the crook of my arm. A few feet away stood Corporal Washington. He was my lone companion at the moment.
It was a bitterly cold night, several degrees below zero, with a stiff wind out of the north. We wore the latest and best arctic gear and were relatively comfortable. At least physically. Mentally, I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was about to kill a variety of strangers. Young men who had never harmed me or my loved ones directly but were part of a war effort directed against my country. Through no fault of their own, they would die by my hand in a few minutes.
I blocked the thoughts from my mind, knowing that they could cause me to fail in my ruthless task at the worst possible time, causing my own death and the deaths of my comrades. Then I took a rest position across the top of the boulder and waited for Washington to signal for the start of the fracas. I looked at the enemies which strolled about so unconcernedly. Below us was a bridge that led into a weapons factory. On the south side of the bridge was a squad of three men on guard duty. On the north side of the bridge was another squad of three. The remaining members of our team would infiltrate the base after I had disposed of these two groups. Washington waved a hand. I brought my weapon to bear on the south side of the bridge and put the cross-hairs on a soldier in white camos. I squeezed the trigger gently and his head turned to a red cloud which drifted away in the breeze. His closest comrade looked up curiously as the man fell but before he could raise the alarm I had shot him. He dropped the rifle from his nerveless hand and sank to the snow-covered tarmac. Then I shot the third man of that group. Quickly I switched my attention to the squad across the bridge. There were three shots and three bodies crumpled into the snow. Then Washington and I moved cautiously down the hill to meet with our fellows inside the complex.
Washington and I were closer than brothers. We had fought across the face of the planet, against the enemies of our nation. I will say that he had two glaring faults. First and foremost, when in battle he was forevermore crying out, "Cover, I need cover fire!" This drives me crazy. I mean, I'm scared too. I would love some cover fire, okay? But I'm fighting for my life over here.
The second thing Washington does that bothers me a bit is this: he will stop and go through the pockets of enemy soldiers searching for the odd keepsake. I mean, during a pitched battle he will do this. Once he almost got me killed because he was stealing a Zippo lighter off a dead guy. We had a fistfight after that mission.
We ran across the bridge and up to the door of the train terminal. Then we crept into the complex, ever alert for the enemy. Then I heard bullets pinging off metal and saw red lasers sweeping here and there as snipers sought our life's blood.
I hunkered down behind some crates and began to search for the hidden gunmen. After close observation, I determined two snipers were keeping us pinned down. One was on a metal landing twenty feet off the ground and about 100 feet away. I tried to get him in the cross-hairs without exposing my body. This was not possible so I quickly stood, sighted and shot. I saw the red dust fly and quickly ducked behind the crates again. Immediately a chunk of lead dug through a crate beside my head. I stood again and killed the second sniper with a well-timed shot. Then I stood and walked to the first body, Washington close by me. I looked down at the dead man at my feet. He was just a lad, really, with a wispy blond mustache. I shook my head sadly. Powerful men, far away, intent on their own agendas and egos, had ordained that this man and I would duel tonight. One of us had to die.
I turned the game off and sighed as I placed the tablet on my desk. As I walked to bed, I thought how much I had enjoyed the game called Modern Combat 3, Fallen Nation, (Level 7). Then I went to bed, at the author's green retreat. I'm CE Wills.
It was a bitterly cold night, several degrees below zero, with a stiff wind out of the north. We wore the latest and best arctic gear and were relatively comfortable. At least physically. Mentally, I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was about to kill a variety of strangers. Young men who had never harmed me or my loved ones directly but were part of a war effort directed against my country. Through no fault of their own, they would die by my hand in a few minutes.
I blocked the thoughts from my mind, knowing that they could cause me to fail in my ruthless task at the worst possible time, causing my own death and the deaths of my comrades. Then I took a rest position across the top of the boulder and waited for Washington to signal for the start of the fracas. I looked at the enemies which strolled about so unconcernedly. Below us was a bridge that led into a weapons factory. On the south side of the bridge was a squad of three men on guard duty. On the north side of the bridge was another squad of three. The remaining members of our team would infiltrate the base after I had disposed of these two groups. Washington waved a hand. I brought my weapon to bear on the south side of the bridge and put the cross-hairs on a soldier in white camos. I squeezed the trigger gently and his head turned to a red cloud which drifted away in the breeze. His closest comrade looked up curiously as the man fell but before he could raise the alarm I had shot him. He dropped the rifle from his nerveless hand and sank to the snow-covered tarmac. Then I shot the third man of that group. Quickly I switched my attention to the squad across the bridge. There were three shots and three bodies crumpled into the snow. Then Washington and I moved cautiously down the hill to meet with our fellows inside the complex.
Washington and I were closer than brothers. We had fought across the face of the planet, against the enemies of our nation. I will say that he had two glaring faults. First and foremost, when in battle he was forevermore crying out, "Cover, I need cover fire!" This drives me crazy. I mean, I'm scared too. I would love some cover fire, okay? But I'm fighting for my life over here.
The second thing Washington does that bothers me a bit is this: he will stop and go through the pockets of enemy soldiers searching for the odd keepsake. I mean, during a pitched battle he will do this. Once he almost got me killed because he was stealing a Zippo lighter off a dead guy. We had a fistfight after that mission.
We ran across the bridge and up to the door of the train terminal. Then we crept into the complex, ever alert for the enemy. Then I heard bullets pinging off metal and saw red lasers sweeping here and there as snipers sought our life's blood.
I hunkered down behind some crates and began to search for the hidden gunmen. After close observation, I determined two snipers were keeping us pinned down. One was on a metal landing twenty feet off the ground and about 100 feet away. I tried to get him in the cross-hairs without exposing my body. This was not possible so I quickly stood, sighted and shot. I saw the red dust fly and quickly ducked behind the crates again. Immediately a chunk of lead dug through a crate beside my head. I stood again and killed the second sniper with a well-timed shot. Then I stood and walked to the first body, Washington close by me. I looked down at the dead man at my feet. He was just a lad, really, with a wispy blond mustache. I shook my head sadly. Powerful men, far away, intent on their own agendas and egos, had ordained that this man and I would duel tonight. One of us had to die.
I turned the game off and sighed as I placed the tablet on my desk. As I walked to bed, I thought how much I had enjoyed the game called Modern Combat 3, Fallen Nation, (Level 7). Then I went to bed, at the author's green retreat. I'm CE Wills.
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