I stared back at Ethan's unconscious body, his chest rising and falling unevenly, every breath a struggle. Then, I looked around at the shops, lined with people, civilians.
I remembered our conversation from the day before. It was around noon, probably a bit later, the sun was hanging high in the sky, shining directly into my eyes as my luck would have it.
Ethan was sitting down, wiring up the generator to a small TV that one of the marines had commandeered from a destroyed building. It had a large crack through the center, but otherwise, it was in perfect condition.
"Hey, Casper, mind if I ask a question?" Ethan asked, slowly inserting the cord to connect the two.
"Go for it," I replied, handing him a pair of pliers that were lying on the stump.
"Why do you fight so hard? I mean, you got some of these fucks, they just ran around pretending like they know anything, and then there's you. You got that look that says more than your words do. Like a, 'Even if I die, I'll keep fighting.'"
"I guess I just want to save as many lives as possible, regardless of the cost to my body. That's the best way I can explain it. What about you?"
"Ah man, I got a daughter back home and a son on the way, my wife told me this deployment would be my last, but then this shit happened, you know? Guess I'm just fighting so my children can grow up in peaceful times."
The memory faded away as I tapped back into the comms.
"Okay, so we got a tank, and no way to blow the bitch up. Any ideas?" I asked Seller, looking around to try and gather information on our remaining forces.
There were about three SEALs and five Marines left standing, two injured and on the road, and then there was Ethan, who was bleeding out on the ground and somehow hadn't bit the bullet yet. A true soldier.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO?!" A marine screamed as the rumbling sound got closer.
The tank was around three-four-hundred feet out now. Not good.
"We need orders, Alan, do you have anything?" One of them asked me, but I shook my head.
I was out of ideas; we were facing a T-72 tank, which, according to our manuals, was a highly regarded combat tank still in use since 1973.
Stay calm, I can get them all out of here, I just need to think. Ethan is bleeding out; we're down to less than half our original forces. What the hell do we do?
I could hear the tank get closer, followed by a loud screeching as its barrel moved. It was pointed out to us.
"Seller, stay here, protect the civilians! I need you three SEALs with me, and you marines need to stay here and get the wounded to safety!" I shouted, picking up my gun and charging into one of the alleys.
There's a difficulty when fighting in a city, the prime example is being unaware of most shortcuts, but one thing is true: Most alleys spit you out on the other side. So, how were we supposed to lure the tank away? By getting behind it.
I ran faster than ever before, even as blood poured from the bullet holes in my leg and shoulder, I kept going. I would always keep going until the day everyone was safe.
"Alan, this is Eli, we're drawing in! ETA is five minutes, do you copy?" My comms buzzed as the soldiers followed me.
"This is Alan, copy that, I need you to do something reckless. We're changing strategy. Take your team and set up on a roof, get every piece of ammo you have that can damage heavy armor plating on a vehicle, and wait for my signal."
"What does the enemy have?"
"A tank."
I led them through the rest of the alley and stopped behind the tank. I was right, both good and bad. This was the hard part.
I raised my KRISS Vector and sprayed the back end of the tank, killing two of the soldiers marching behind it.
"SPLIT UP! FOUR DIRECTIONS, LET'S MOVE IT PEOPLE!" I yelled, sprinting to the right as the soldiers followed, scattering in different directions.
I ran to the left, spraying a few more rounds at the tank to gather more of its attention. If we failed here, if anyone fell, then we would lose. This wasn't a plan we could afford to go sideways.
For starters, the main part, we had to lead the tank away from civilian life, which could be done by scattering and separately drawing attention. As long as we were fast enough and the cannon was relatively slow or the rounds weren't as deadly, that could be pulled off.
Secondly, we had to get to an area where the tank could be lured to be an easy target while we had room to move and stay hidden. That's where the plan gets harder, one way or another, somebody could die, and the whole thing could go sideways.
Lastly, we had to have the equipment to take it out. Anti-armor or armor-piercing rounds would work, the problem being that I didn't have access to any of that information.
If the plan were to fail, we would die, every last one of us. Because nobody fighting in the city was ready to leave the bodies of our teammates behind. It's a soldier's duty to protect the innocent and live by the creed of never leaving a teammate behind.
Unfortunately, as my luck would have it, the tank chose to follow me. I heard the loud clap of lightning as the round was ejected from the cannon and exploded into the building above me.
I rolled across the concrete, scratching my face and scuffing my helmet as I tried to get back up and avoid the falling debris.
"УБЕЙТЕ АМЕРИКАНЦЕВ!" One of them shouted as gunfire lit up the alley.
See, that time I didn't need to think about what it meant, I understood what danger I had placed myself in. It meant, "Kill the Americans!"
"SELLER, I NEED COVER FIRE!" I shouted into the comms, rolling into a building where a wall had collapsed.
It allowed me some breathing room, but I had to move fast, otherwise someone would be folding my flag and handing it to my mother or sister.
I jumped to my feet and ran through the building, passing burnt and overturned tables and chairs, destroyed cabinets, and ruined antique pantries.
Dust coated my throat as the taste of a mix of sulfur and gunpowder clogged what was left of my nose hairs, not that it could have been much.
I exited through a door in the back, leading me to another alley, when the sound of lightning striking as another round went through the barrel echoed around the walls.
The building crumbled where I had just left, collapsing upon itself as I looked for somewhere else to run to. I was trapped, one exit, and that would lead me near the tank again.
"SELLER!" I screamed into the comms, but they crumbled into my palm.
Now I was trapped, had no access to the comms, and had no chance of rescue. I take back what I said about Lady Luck, she hates me.
Fuck, what am I supposed to do? What the fuck do I do?
The thoughts hit harder than I thought they would. I was used to thinking on my feet and making last-second plans, but now I was isolated from the rest of the soldiers working with me, facing a tank, and had no idea whether Eli had managed to set up on a rooftop or which one.
Deep breaths, come on, just think. What do I do?
Another explosion sounded out on the other side of the alley. The tank was pretty sure I wasn't dead, not that they were wrong.
I looked ahead at the exit of the alley, my one way of escape. This time I was trapped between three walls and a tank, guess my humanities teacher needed a raise because he got my current situation damn near on the dot.
But he was also right, humans fight their way out, no matter what, if it means they can survive. I still had my sister to get back to, after all.
I ran forward, clutching my Vector as I bolted from the alley and wound up right next to the tank. Now, in probably an ultimate lack of judgment, I threw myself onto its side and attempted to climb up.
I could feel the hot metal against my gloves as I climbed the thin ladder and got to the top hatch. My gloves wrapped around it, and I pulled hard enough to make my muscles feel like they were exploding under my armor, hard enough I could feel the individual muscle fibers ripping apart, but it didn't budge.
"Fuck, come on, come on!" I shouted as the tank moved forward, closing in on where one of the SEALs had run to earlier.
"COME ON!" I yelled, trying it again, but it still didn't move.
As I tried harder, I could sense a pair of eyes on me, and I trusted my gut. I threw myself off and crashed hard into the ground, sending blood spurting from my shoulder.
I got up and raised my Vector before stopping. If I shot point-blank at it, the bullets would hit me. But I had to find a way to stop it, a way to save my comrades, a way to end all of it.
I had no comms, no radio, nothing to communicate, and I was too close to do anything except throw random bullshit at it.
I paused, watching as the tank slowly began to turn around, and darted as fast as I could toward a different alley by running around its side. It would slow the tank down in locating and firing toward me, sure, but it was also a gamble and a half.
Somehow, by the stroke of fortune that abandoned me earlier, I made it and threw myself down. The tank shell went above me and crashed into the wall, exploding concrete and brick all over me and the alley.
Luckily, none of it was excessively heavy, but my ears rang loudly, sending a searing pain through my head as I clutched my skull.
"ALAN!" Someone's voice echoed out, albeit small, even though a hand clamped down on my shoulder and dragged me away.
I couldn't see his face, but I recognized the voice, not that I knew where from.
"Stay down, soldier. Let the First Battalion take over."
My vision blurred as I felt my body lying against a brick wall. Blood trickled down my forehead, spilling into my mouth and wiping clean some of the soot and dirt covering my face.
The taste of iron filled my mouth as I whipped my head around and looked through faded vision at a soldier taking aim toward the tank from a roof and nailing it dead on. A few more bullets came, cutting through the armor like it was butter, and the tank stopped.
A soldier attempted to climb through the hatch, but he was shot immediately, the bullet exploded his skull in a way no other bullet ever could. Armor-piercing rounds.
I coughed as I inhaled dirt, causing blood to spill out of my mouth as someone put their hand on my neck and seemed to check my pulse.
My chest rose, ragged and sputtering, but it rose and fell, only to repeat. I was still breathing at least, aside from the stabbing pain in my chest.
"Rest now, soldier. You help us good." Someone, a young girl maybe, spoke in broken English.
"What?" I tried to reply, maybe say more, but that was all I could manage before two people lifted me off the ground.
One of my eyes was swollen shut, the other was barely open, but I was wide awake as always. I could hear a few people talking, and through the corner of my working eye, I could see a single empty bullet casing resting where I was just lying, next to the pool of my blood.
'Casing.' The name echoed around in my skull, remembering the words of the leader of the First Battalion. 'We have always left a casing near him.'
I didn't pass out. At some point, the adrenaline wore off, and all the pain that I hadn't quite embraced made me feel like I was dying. I guess I was, technically.
While everything was spinning around me, I could hear soldiers talking to one another. Something about SEAL Team Six, another thing about some kickass bravery, and someone, a deep yet familiar voice, making sure I was going to be alright.
One of the medics wrapped most of my wounds and took two bullets out of my body, that fucking hurt. I screamed into the rag placed in my mouth and got a hurried, 'Sorry!'
Unlike soldiers who fight a war for fat politicians sitting in an office attempting to play God, medics fight a different battle. You never disrespect or piss off a medic, they fight a battle between life and death every day.
At some point, Seller was talking above me, telling me Ethan was going to live, and that he'd heal up fine, but he was out of the battle, permanently. She sounded pretty pissed off, not as pissed off as one of the guys that came in and got a look at the whole operation.
He talked a lot of shit about how I could have organized everything better, completely ignoring the fact everyone fighting was damn near dead and I was exhausted facing something that I had never even considered as a possibility.
I'm pretty sure somebody punched him, because he went completely silent after a loud slap echoed around wherever I was.
Anyway, I finally managed to get up after a few days of sleeping, almost dying again, and stepped out of the medical tent where all of my wounds were treated.
The first person to see me was Eli, considering he slapped my back hard enough to make me fall over.
"Fuck, you okay?" He asked, giving me a hand to stand back up.
I wasn't mad at him, I'm pretty sure I was pumped up enough on whatever drug they gave me to calm my mind completely.
"Yeah, fuck. What happened?" I replied, taking his hand.
"When you get back to your tent you'll get the full report, you should also talk to Seller, she was pretty pissed about everything that happened," He paused, catching his breath before looking back at me.
"You were fucking awesome, Alan! I mean, the plan was great, it worked pretty well, and it helps that we got backup after you held out that long. But, I mean, impressive shit! You saved a lot of soldiers."
"It doesn't feel like it, but thanks, man," I replied, clutching my shoulder. Somehow, my injury was healing already, and pretty well at that.
He carried me to my tent and let me be in there with a few other guys, not that they spoke to me much, I think they could tell I'd been through hell.
Like Eli said, the report was right on my cot. It started back in 2022 and led to 2026, the start of World War III.
2022:
Tensions were simmering, not yet spilling over. Russia had invaded Ukraine in February, shocking Europe into unity for the first time in decades. The front lines shifted, retreated, surged again. Meanwhile, China made its intentions over Taiwan clearer with each passing month. The air around the South China Sea was getting heavier.
2023:
April. Sudan erupted into civil war. The Sudanese Armed Forces and the Rapid Support Forces tore Khartoum to shreds. Drone footage showed entire neighborhoods vanish in the blink of an eye.
October. Gaza burned. On the 7th, Hamas launched an unprecedented assault into Israel, dragging the region into one of its most brutal conflicts in years. Israel retaliated with force not seen since the 2014 war. The skies over Gaza glowed with orange fire.
In the same breath, Hezbollah opened a second front from Lebanon. For a moment, it looked like the entirety of the Levant would collapse into full-scale war.
Meanwhile, in the East, China pushed further into Taiwan's air defense zones. It wasn't war yet, but every drill, every incursion, felt like a game of chicken. The world kept blinking, not yet ready to admit the threads of tension were stretched thin.
2024:
The Red Sea became a warzone. The Houthis, emboldened and supplied, began launching drone attacks on global shipping lanes. Israel responded with targeted strikes in Yemen, and soon U.S. Navy vessels were escorting tankers under constant threat.
Iran and Israel danced on the edge of all-out war. April to October saw a relentless tit-for-tat: Missile strikes in Syria, drone assassinations, cyber sabotage. Neither side retreated.
In Asia, Myanmar's civil war deepened. Rebel groups like the Arakan Army and Kachin Independence Army seized territory as the junta cracked down. The front lines got mixed up with the rear, and it got harder to tell which side of the world would break out first.
In Europe, Ukraine had retaken ground in the east, only to lose it again by winter. Russian drone swarms, many of Iranian origin, blacked out entire cities.
2025:
January. Iran launched missiles into Pakistan, claiming to target terrorist cells. Pakistan struck back days later. It was the first open military exchange between the two countries in decades.
February. In the Congo, the M23 rebel group captured Minova and pressed toward Goma. Rwanda was accused of backing them. The UN held emergency meetings as genocide warnings echoed through the chambers.
April. A terror attack in India's Pahalgam region killed dozens. Within hours, Indian missiles lit up Pakistan's side of the Line of Control. Skirmishes turned to barrages. Civilians fled. A ceasefire wasn't reached until May.
Taiwan's skies were filled with Chinese jets again. The U.S. redoubled efforts to protect the coast.
March. Russia and China teamed up with Mongolia, with the promise of their safety, to overtake Ukraine. Ukraine fell in about a week, followed by China increasing pressure on Taiwan.
War later broke out, Taiwan was massacred, and Japan and South Korea retreated to the Mariana Islands as forces were joined with North Korea to form a larger Eurasia.
Hamas joined with Russia alongside Palestine in successful efforts to reclaim the Gaza Strip.
May. World War III was officially announced following the occupation of most of Europe and further control down toward Africa. Welsh efforts for recapture continue, alongside efforts to reclaim the United Kingdom, mostly successful.
The U.S. President asks the Russian President and the Chinese President to quit before it gets worse. Despite being longtime allies, Russia has declined, completely forfeiting U.S. ties.
I set down the report and lay back in my cot. It was hard to believe everything I had gone through alongside these soldiers was summarized on only a few sheets of paper.
Someone threw open the flap of our tent and walked inside. Immediately, the other men stood up and saluted, but I had yet to notice as I stared at the last sentence.
'Completely forfeiting U.S. ties.' So we had ties after they invaded and bombed Maine? What the fuck?
"Dismissed, leave," Her voice called out, followed by uniform marching as the other men left the tent. "Alan, get your ass up."
I looked up to see Seller standing over me, reaching out her hand. I took it without thinking and was thrown to my feet.
"Sorry, Captain," I mumbled, meeting her gaze as I steadied my feet, my right foot was still shaking from the pain of the bullet wound.
The bullet never actually went through my foot, but it did hit a vein and burn a small hole through the side of my foot. Other than that, the wound was practically a nick.
"I wanted to let you know that most of the soldiers, a few days ago, were rescued. Their wounds were treated, and they won't be returning to war. I figured the one who took action should be told about that, at the very least," She said with a straight face, patting me on the shoulder.
"Thanks," I replied, grabbing my gear and slinging it over my shoulder.
"Guess you got that without my words, yeah, we're all heading back out soon for the reoccupation of England. We're camping on the border tonight and heading in soon. If you don't want to, you're free to stay. You're injured enough as is."
"With all due respect, the battlefield is where I belong," I answered, smirking as she held back a small chuckle. "Wait, by chance, do you know someone in the Marines with the codename 'Casing'?"
Her smile faded as her eyes went slightly wide. She was taken aback at the very least, but she composed herself quickly.
"Yeah, I do. I take it you have some questions?" She questioned, and I nodded instantly. "Go for it," She paused before continuing, "But some information I can't tell you. Due to professional courtesy."
"He's the guy who saved me, right?" I asked, pausing as she nodded, her lips pursed like she was expecting a question she couldn't answer, like her life depended on it. "Could I get his name?"
"I'm sorry, that's not something I can tell you. I can give you his initials, D.A., but that's it."
"That's enough, thanks. I'll meet you outside in a moment."
She nodded and quickly left the tent.
I sat down for a moment, my mind racing with new questions. Why was his name such a pain to get? Was he a higher rank? What did his initials stand for?
Then I paused, my mind stopping as I backtracked the information given. Part of me had an answer, not that it was one I would accept.
The captain had said he joined fifteen or sixteen years ago, he was a male, and he had to be a bit older. But he also had the initials D.A.
Didn't- Didn't dad leave that long ago? Weren't his initials also D.A.? Daniel Andrews, right?
I quit thinking once his name went through my mind, I had to be wrong, there was no way the man who saved my life was my dad. It was just a few coincidences, it had to be.
I ran outside to meet with Seller, not just so I could get my mind off things, but so I could join the fight. I wasn't cracking a joke when I said the battlefield was where I belonged; I felt at peace there.
In some sick, twisted form of peace, I felt alive when I was getting shot at and fighting for my life.
Seller was waiting for me alongside Eli and the captain of the First Battalion, apparently, the Third Battalion commander had died in the battle. They were joined by eight people who individually looked like they could wrestle a bear, win, and then roast it for dinner as the bear cooked itself.
"Alan, this is SEAL Team Six, the rest of Ethan's Team should be here in around twenty minutes. For now, I'd like it if you listened to the briefing," Seller explained, laying her hands on the table the way she does when she's trying to assert her position.
"Team Six and Team Three will be entering the city together. Our mission has changed to capturing the Russian General and the guarding of Team Six until we get there. Command said we cannot shoot anyone unless they took a shot first, and all soldiers are to stick together. This will be the hardest mission yet. We have zero admission on drones and surveillance gear, despite that, some soldiers have scouted ahead and seen at the very least twenty tanks, models unidentified, and what seem to be fighter jets at the ready further in."
Seller stopped to look around at the people who stared at her with pure confusion written on their faces. "Any questions?" She asked, to which a bunch of them spoke up instantly.
"Yeah, what the fuck is this shit?"
"They fuckin' trying to kill us?"
"This is a joke, right? I mean, seriously?"
"Where's the actual plan, this is a fucking suicide mission!"
I stared at her and raised my voice to speak above the rest.
"Let me get this straight, we're going into a warzone and we can't fucking shoot unless we get shot at first? On top of that, we have zero surveillance and coverage? They're right, this is suicide. This is a fucking suicide mission!"
"Orange-eyed looking dude is right, this plan is fucking insane. This came from the top?" One of them asked as he stepped forward.
His face was covered in scarring, his eyebrow half singed off, and his hazel eyes stared deep into hers. The rest of his face was covered by a thick, blackish brown beard, which also helped make it harder to see his mouth move.
I ignored the insult and looked at Seller for her response. She just sighed and started speaking.
"That's the orders, Leon. I requested a change, and they shouted at me to get everyone under control and take accountability. I guess a Marine socking the Commanding Officer who checked in got us double fucked."
"His orders were bullshit to begin with, and now this? Fuck no, I'm sitting out, there's no fuckin' way I'm contributing here. This is suicide, fuck that," Leon spoke again, his voice louder than before.
"They made it real damn clear if you refuse, you could be charged with treason or insubordination at the very least, worst case, they'll say you're trying to start a mutiny. We can't refuse," Seller explained as he threw his arms in the air and stormed out, followed by the rest of the members of Team Six.
"You want us to march into Hell and ask for permission to die? Hell no." He muttered as the team followed.
Son of a fucking bitch...