An Arrow from Heaven

"Lieutenant! Watch out!"

"Twilight, get into cover now!"

"Sir, we've got a Panzer at our two!"

"Dash and Jack, go get 'em!"

"You got it!"

"No problem sugarcube!"

"Where did these Krauts come from?"

"Keep all questions for after, Jefferson!"

"Sorry Sir!"

"Sir, we've got friendly artillery incoming!"

"Heavy fire incoming, take cover!"

~     ~     ~

Sergeant Andy Henderson's eyes slowly opened, revealing a set of emerald green eyes. His gaze slowly panned around the small tent he lived in, rays of approaching morning light seeping in through the plastic window panes. Throwing off his wool blanket, Henderson sat up and yawned, popping his back along with his neck.

"One hell of a dream..." he says. Standing up from his cot, he changed out of his his pajamas and into his PT clothing, leaving the tent with a swish of the tent flaps.

His mornings were usually the same routine: wake up, get changed, do a run, get changed again, go eat, and report for debriefing at 0800 hours. Pretty boring, if you asked him.

"I joined this damn war to fight Jerry, not sit on my ass all day on the base, waiting for the war to end!"

As he ran, he gazed at the sun as it climbed into the skies, painting the heavens with brilliant oranges and reds. His morning routine may have been boring as all hell, but if it meant seeing the beautiful morning skies each day, it was well worth it.

~     ~     ~

After his run, Henderson returned to his tent and changed into the standard issue, khaki colored fatigues that Army personnel wore when out of combat situations. Approaching the Mess Hall, Henderson opened the door, allowing the cacophony of random conversations flood out and into the air, before being silence with the door closing behind Henderson. Once he acquired his tray of food, Henderson scanned the crowd.

"Hey! Hey Sergeant! Over here! Sergeant!" calls a young voice. Henderson looks to his right and spots a waving hand. The hand belongs to Private Jacob O'Malley; a newbie. Henderson smirks and approaches the table.

"Good morning, Misfits. How did we all sleep?" Henderson asks as he sits and puts his tray down.

"Morning Sergeant. We slept fine, except for Jefferson. Poor guy kept being woken up by the air patrols leaving and landing." says Corporal Richard Anders with a chuckle.

"I keep telling the Doc to add more to my sleeping pills! 'Sorry, but regulation forbids it.' Regulation my ass! Doctor Hendricks doesn't have to sleep near the end of the goddamned runway!" Private Tony Jefferson says with a slamming of his fist on the tabletop. Heavy bags hung under his eyes, showing that he had, in fact, not been sleeping well.

"Easy Jefferson. I can put in a word with Quatermaster Parkhill later on." Henderson says while taking a bit of his scrambled eggs.

"Thanks Sarge. Hey, pass the gravy; my biscuits are dry as hell." Jefferson says, gesturing for the gravy. O'Malley passes it and turns around to face the kitchen.

"Hey Mario! What's with the biscuits? What happened to your Mama's recipe?" O'Malley calls. A young man, around twenty, wearing a slightly stained apron pokes his head out from the kitchen.

"Sorry man! Base Commander keeps begging for the recipe. Can't use it until I hand him over the recipe for his wife!" Mario says with a shrug. O'Malley gawks and turns back around to face the others.

"What a load of bullshit." he mutters, continuing his meal. At the Mess Hall entrance, a guy pokes his head in, signals for some others to follow him, then quickly leaves. The people he signaled to give each other a slightly confused look, then get up and leave as well.

"Huh, wonder what that's all about." O'Malley says, pointing his fork in the direction of the leaving soldiers.'

"Ah, it's probably-"

"Holy shit!" yells someone over by the window.

"-nothing." Henderson finishes.

"What's going on Preston?" Jefferson calls. The soldier in question, a Private Preston, points up to the skies outside the mess hall. Giving each other raised eyebrows, Misfit Squad leave their table and leave the Mess Hall and look up to the skies.

Sitting in the heavens above, a planet hovers ominously. It's so close that Henderson can make out small cities on the lush green continents that sat beside crystal blue oceans.

"What the hell...?" O'Malley asks.

Then, the skies erupt into a fury of blinding light and explosions.