Special Forces, In a Special World

Lieutenant Hudson’s POV

I woke up feeling groggy and sore, but from what, I couldn’t remember. I did a quick check of my body and didn’t feel or see any injuries. I also checked my gear. My SCAR-L was in good condition, as was my MP-7 and my custom-made Five-seveN. My web harness had about 6 clips for my SCAR, 3 for my MP-7, and 2 for my Five-seveN pistol, not counting the ones already in the weapons. I also found about 2 unused frag grenades, 2 HE grenades, and 3 assorted tactical grenades. As a Delta operative, I was skilled in handling many weapons, and my forte was in assault rifles, tactical sniper rifles, sub-machine guns, and pistols. I checked my pack. It contained my prized RSASS sniper, additional ammo for all my weapons, a few extra grenades, a full canteen, attachments for my weapons, my radio, which was already hooked to my whisper-sensitive mic, and my headphones, which doubled to cancel out the sound of gunfire in a firefight. Unlike most soldiers, many Delta operators did not wear helmets. Many wore special camo hats, or ghillie suits, and some had balaclavas. I, on the other hand, used a specialized helmet, equipped with a HUD and a flashlight mounted on the side. The HUD had range finding capabilities, using the laser also in my helmet, and it also contained a small screen for my special robot friend’s camera. My “friend”, Mike, was an experimental twin rotor AI helicopter, and was about the size of a shoebox. It ran on electricity, which required me to charge it about once every week. Armed with a single modified 4.6mm x 30mm automatic gun, he was a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, I had him stowed away…for now.

After that little inventory check, I decided to familiarize myself with the surrounding area. However, fate had other plans. As soon as I stood up, I heard some colorful language from above me. I looked upwards, only to have something crash right on to me.

“What the hell was that for?” I whispered, worried that there were potential hostiles around.

“S…Skipper?” I instantly recognized the voice.

“Sgt. Jenkins! It’s great to see you!” I exclaimed, happy to see one of my fire team members, “Did you see anyone else from the fire team?”

“Uh, nope, sorry,” the demolitions expert replied, “I was going to ask you the same question.”

“Hmm…I guess we can start by taking a look at…all these…trees,” I said, looking at the rows upon rows of what seemed to be apple trees.

“You got it Skipper! Too bad I can’t blow anything them up though…” I chuckled. The guy wasn’t nicknamed Frag for nothing. As we continued through the trees, we heard some shouting behind us. We turned and looked to see what appeared to be our squad sniper, SSgt. Thatcher.

“Hot Shot, our favorite SSgt.,” I shouted, “Good to see you!”

“Hey, Skipper,” He shouted back, “Who’s that with you?”

“Oh, it’s just Frag,” I said.

“Any sign of the others?” he asked as he caught up.

“Negative,” I responded.

“Have you tried the radio?” he said.

“Actually, I haven’t. Shit, I’m an idiot,” I reprimanded myself. I toggled the switch and spoke into my mic, “All friendly call signs, this is Carbon 2-1 Actual. Requesting immediate support and evac, over.”

“…” No response. I repeated the message once more. I heard some brief rustling on the other end, and then I heard a very faint: “Skipper, this is Cpl. Griffin. Able to provide support.  I am going to need your location, though.”

I got out a purple smoke grenade and pulled the pin. “Alright, setting off some purple smoke now. Confirm that you see it.”

“Alright Skipper, I see it. Coming towards your location now. Griffin out.”

I signaled for Frag and Hot Shot to stop. After a few minutes, we saw Griffin approaching us. He was carrying a big duffel bag, which was stuffed with ammo of all different kinds. He carried this around with him all the time, as the ammunition guy of the squad. That was why we named him “Ammo Box”. If you needed ammo, shout his nickname into the radio and he’ll be there. During long firefights, he was invaluable to the group.

“Ammo box, get over here,” I shouted, “We don’t have all day.”

“Understood, Skipper,” he replied, “But carrying all this ammo isn’t easy.”

“That’s why we picked you for the job,” I retorted. “Either way,” I continued, “We need to get our call signs figured out. We need one for each individual or pair, if some more of our people show up. I will be Carbon 0-1. Hot Shot, you’re going to be Archer 1-1. Frag, you’re going to be Carbon 1-1, Ammo Box, you’re going to be paired up with Frag as Carbon 1-2, and if anyone else shows up, we’ll place them accordingly. Mike will be Bird 1. Got it? Good. Mike, respond to voice commands preceded by either Mike, Bird, or Bird 1.” Mike beeped in acknowledgement. I looked up and noticed the impending sunset.

“Alright boys, lets set up some shelter. Nighttime’s coming soon,” I ordered. Everyone took out their sleeping bags and set them up under a tree.

“Hey skipper, do you think we need someone on guard duty?” Frag inquired, “There may be hostiles in the area.” In response, I pointed at Mike. He would be sufficient, and should there be a large enemy presence, Mike could set off an alarm to wake us all up. We all crawled into our respective sleeping bags, and I couldn’t help but think what had happened to get us all to this place. Everything that had happened before was basically gone from my mind. I decided to stop dwelling on it and let my drift off to sleep.