Squadron Hotel Oscar Sierra.
Contact right! RPG! [Partial Edit]
"-mstone Zero One-“
The radio within the vehicle came to life, but the message was garbled. Despite that we could still make out who was being hailed, but to be on the safe side we refrained from answering until we get a clear transmission.
Within the next few seconds the radio was filled with static, but soon afterwards a clear message came through. “Brimstone Zero One.”
Brimstone Zero One. Me. My platoon. An oddball out of the rest of our regiment to put it lightly. Well, the more I think about it the entire regiment within the forces is a mess, and it really makes you wonder what the brass thinking was when they put this regiment together all those years ago.
The regiment is a mix bag, but it was mainly comprised of the Infantry that at the start were drawn from different divisions, but soon new infantry recruits were placed within the Rapid Response Battalion. Oddly enough our battalion also has an Armored Company with a few Challenge II main battle tanks, and quite a number of Warrior IFV’s.
After a year of trying to organize a regiment full of discord the brass thought it would be a great idea to place men and women from the Medical Services within our regiment. Now, no one has any problems with the medics, but it also meant we had to make room for them. Although it was pretty easy to integrate them into our multi-purpose division it really stalled us from becoming a battle ready core.
Then came the artillery… Ugh, the mess it was to bring those guys into our chaotic regiment… I don’t want to think about, but let’s just say when they moved in we were already out of room for them and they weren’t happy they couldn’t store their toys within the warehouses.
Apparently the Brass thought it would be a great idea to have a regiment that was able to deploy infantry along with the armored, artillery and medics. It actually sounds like a great idea since the infantry would have the instant support of artillery whenever they needed to take down targets from afar, or seamlessly deploy and roll into a combat zone with armored support, or have immediate medical care from the medics that are integrated into the Infantry. Sounds great, but to get the regiment moving is a pain in the ass, but within a few more years we may be able to effectively deploy without too much trouble… well, hopefully...
Picking up the head piece I placed it on my ear, and the mic up to my mouth. "Brimstone Zero Zero. This is Brimstone Zero One. Radio check loud clear sir." I replied with drilled routine as I stare ahead towards the desert road the gun turret on top of the massive armored beast the Infantry Battalion frequently use: The Mastiff, it’s capable of carrying a fully equipped fire team, transport supplies, protect the troops with its armored plated shell, and provide heavy machine gun support for the lads out in a firefight.
Now, the machine gun turret was obviously not the most protective place to command from, but it had something that the lads in the troop bay didn’t have. It had a good view from up here, and that really helped calm my mind rather than being stuck inside a metal box. Although there wasn’t much to look at from up here other than sand, dirt, sand and a few mountains with the occasional village or goat passing by.
"Brimstone Zero One. Bastion has just called Patrol Minimize - keep your heads down and don’t get bogged down."
“Wilco, out.” I replied, and soon there was radio silence.
"Aw shit. And I was hoping to have some tea with the Taliban." A familiar voice rose up over the comms that easily recognizable as the cockiest of the entire squadron: Private John Damon. A grey haired, crazy soldier who only just managed to pass basic. They say during the bayonet training he went absolutely mental and had to be restrained by three NCO's before calming down. No one truly know why he’s still in the forces seeing how he tends to cause minor strife between the units, but legend says that he can pull the strings of many men, and always get his way in the end… or so the legend says…
"Careful Damon. I like you but that doesn’t mean I’m just about to run into a tali stronghold to save your ass, eh." A chorus of ooooh's rang out from the others as the platoon’s native medic retorted with Damon soon shutting himself up. There’s a universal rule within the armed forces around the world that every soldier abides by, and that rule is to not fuck the Medics.
"I'd let you give me CPR any day, Hilly." From the front seat of the Mastiff Aleksandr Novogorske tried to liven the mood. For a troop officer he was better than Albion. At least he tried to keep the spirits up.
"I’d be glad to help, eh.” Hilly responded leaving Troop Officer Novogorske grinning to himself. Feeling somewhat confident he was about to speak to her once more, but then the medic continued, eh. ”Say one more thing about my chest size and I'll break your legs so I can then help you, Sir." After taking off the head set The Officer turns to look behind him towards the back of the vehicle to see Combat Medic, Private Hildegarde ‘Hilly’ Herrmann with a cute little smile that didn’t match her somewhat hostile atmosphere she’s projecting within the troop transport. An ice cold chill runs through the Officer’s spine, and immediately he looks away from her.
Despite being the youngest in the squadron she was like a mother to most of the lads. Most troops within their platoon has at least been taken care of her when their blood spilt from combat, and most of the time she’s always willing to help the chefs prep their food by adding in the motherly love to their dishes. Yet despite all her compassion to her fellow troops, and being surrounded by testosterone fueled firefight junkies she still manages to hold her own.
"Alright lads calm it down. Damon sure you’ll get to meet our old friends at some point throughout this tour, but we only just got here." Glancing at my watch to see it had only been a few hours since we had touched down at Bastion before having to jump into the wagons, and truck through the difficult Afghan terrain risking ambush and a possible IED attack. "It’s only been a few hours since we arrived in the most beloved country we've been to. So I suggest if you want some rest get it now before anything happens."
The entire wagon replied with a simple 'Yes sarge' before going about what they'd been doing before.
Looking up the convoy, I noticed the lead wagon, 'Brimstone Zero Zero', Was about to enter a small village 'Just our luck. Driving around Afghan and straight through a damn village'. I instinctively gave a momentary pat to the GPMG, and prayed that I didn’t have to fire a round at anyone.
"All callsigns Brimstone. Eye's open as we pass through the village."
"I see movement left. In the big compound at three o'clock." lance corporal Julius Kuperjanov called out. The squadrons lone Reconnaissance soldier. Good pair of eye's and a even better sense of humour. Looking towards the ID'ed building a glint catches my eye, as soon as it was there it was gone.
"Shit contact right! Contact right!" the call was given just as the muzzle flashed sending a round straight towards me. The round slammed into the steel of the GPMG's breach spraying sparks everywhere.
"Compound three o'clock! Top row of windows!"
"Supressive fire from the GPMG's everyone out of the back now and set up firing positions move it!"
"Bastion this is Brimstone Zero One requesting immediate fire support! Grid points as follows! 612345!"
"Brimstone Zero One this is Bastion Actual. Ugly 43 has been dispatched to your area. ETA one minute."
Soldier's where tumbling out of the back of the wagons in front and behind us. Risking one last glance at the compound, a large plume of orange and yellow streaks out from one of the window's, headed straight toward the wagon next to me.
"RPG!"
Meanwhile somewhere less heated.
"Hoof arms!" the clang of steel on steel rang out across the parade square as hundreds of new recruits picked up and held there weapons and stared straight ahead as there drill instructor walked by them all examining them one by one, whilst across the square the future combat magicians of the Royal Canterlot Guard started training on the combat spells that they'd need to learn, memorize and perform perfectly to pass training.
Meanwhile looking down on them all from a balcony high above a lone alabaster white figure stood stoic watching their every move with a face cold and set in stone. "Princess Celestia i've been trying to find you everywhere." a young voice drifted towards the Princess somehow managing to melt the cold face she wore only a few moments ago
"I found a new spell In the Canterlot Archives. Something about 'Bringing something from afar too close.' any idea what it means?" the young newcomer looked up to the Princess like a newborn might look at its mother for the first time.
"It is nothing I have heard of Twilight. Why dont you try it?" the royal suggested as the young unicorn identified as Twilight's face lightened up like the sun "Oh oh oh like a experiment?!"
The Princess laughed quietly whilst closing her eyes for a second allowing her smile to drop briefly before resuming her posture and expression she held when Twilight had appeared "Yes Twilight. Exactly like a experiment."
Twilight bounded of out of the castle like a little filly knowing Hearths Warming was just around the corner.
Back in Afghanistan.
"RPG!!" it was always like this when those letters where shouted out. It meant death and a definite T2 or worse casualty. Time slowed and everything became sharper. You could spot a grain of sand drifting in the air alone. No one knew why it happened. Either it was the adrenaline or it was the soldier half of your mind kicking in to see what you could have done to prevent it.
A blinding white light struck the entire convoy including the Apache circling above. Moments later the light fades revealing a courtyard with high grey walls adorned by bright white tapestries with a horse and a sun behind it, other tapestries lined them too but these had midnight background with a white moon.
Looking further up the courtyard the Mastiff with 1 section had been flipped on to its side with the under carriage on fire as dazed soldiers stumbled out looking around for someone to help them. Hilly had jumped out of the back as soon as she had heard the explosion and had ran straight round to 1 section's wagon containing Lance Corporal Cid Raines who had tried jumping out of the beast as soon as he had heard RPG, First Lieutenant Red shit as the squaddies had called him had already set up a firing position but looked up from his M4A1 completely shocked. Leave that till later check the lads are alright first. Jumping up from the gun turret I place my feet carefully yet quickly as I jump off the bonnet and head straight towards the keeled Mastiff, my boots creating a dull thud on the stone as I run around the wagon to the front checking to see if everyone was okay.
I only realised there were others around us when suddenly a shield slammed into me with enough force to knock me off my feet. "Sarge!" I heard John Damon shout out followed by a few footfalls before a loud swooshing sound and he to was on his ass on the ground. Stars adorned my vision as I tried to get up and look around only to find a large white horse with what looked like a fucking tiara or its head staring down at me with hatred.
"Who do you think you are!?" the horse bellowed much to the surprise of everyone around me. "Who the fuck are you? A horse with a fuckin tiara!? Are you a princess or something?" I laughed aloud still on the floor, after a while a few of the others in the squadron went slack and started laughing to as more horses not as tall as the one in front of me started appearing seeming visibly pissed of.
"Enough! How dare you appear in my Royal Guards training grounds! Kill the Senior Officer and begin to laugh and mock not only the Royal Guard but me too!? The Princess of Equestria!"
All of the laughing stopped. Everyone of the lads looked up as soon as she had shouted drowning out everything in the background. The only one who hadnt turned around was Hilly who was still trying to tend to the wounded having to kick the so called Royal Guards horses out of the way.
I placed my hand behind me and went to pick myself up before a Guards horses slid in front of my and kicked me to the floor causing the rest of the squadron the shoulder there rifles again.
"Hey Mick!" a heavily accented voice resounded off the comms "Its gettin really choppy up here. I cant find a place to land, mind moving your wagons so i can touch down?" Mathias's helo was hovering just above us, I had completely forgotten about him. The Princess had obviously heard him and was looking around as were many of the other horses stood around looking to see where the voice came from producing yet more snickers from the men. Maybe even one from the CO Albion.
"Enough!" the princess horn began to glow "Oh please dont tell me. You have fucking magic as well." apparently, she did. As the Apache began to buck and kick"Woah whats going on down there! I got the elevation locked why am i losing altitude!?" Mathias's cries echoed around the courtyard as the Apache was forcibly grounded its rotors and elevation controls whining and groaning against the force of magic.
Shutting the gunship down Mathias sprung out of the cockpit pissed of and fuming to hell. If anything he looked like a old fashioned tea pot ready to boil.
"What in the bloody hell did you do!?" the officer yelled at the top of his voice his visor still slid down over his face. "Guards. Arrest them."
"What!? What have we done!?" the American shouted out his accent cutting through the courtyard like a hot knife through butter. Phoenix as we were to call him. On loan from the US Marine Corps. Only part of his name we knew was Oliver as he never really talked much to us. Only to a select few. One of the guards tried to grab at his rifle with its magic, with the barrel pointing towards him. Big fucking mistake. With the rifle still in Oliver's grip it made the oh so familiar bark of a trigger pull as the guard staggered left and right, everyone's eye's were fixed on him stumbling about like a drunkard. Except this one had a bullet wound, and was about to die.
Somehow the princess turned whiter than she already was not to mention about the supposed Royal Guard who should be doing something other than standing around dumbstruck watching on as one of there own dies right in front of them.
The guard eventually flopped on the floor. Nothing happened. You could here a mouse squeak from two miles away. Eventually the Guard all looked up at us with angry expressions rival to that of a bull seeing red. With two of their own dead on what they thought were our hands and their princess in danger they finally went into attack and defend mode slowly advancing on us with their spears in their magical grasp.
"Shoulder arms!" Albion shouted out "Get close to the wagons! Riley smash us and exit path straight to the entrance gate house!" The tank crew man smiled and dived into the interior of the massive Challenger Mk.II. For a while nothing happened till the turret spun one hundred and twenty degrees to its left before stopping again.
"Cover your ears!" seconds later the ear splitting sound of a HE round slammed into and exploded the wall three hundred meters to the left of us sending the guards horses into more shock. That was just like our CO. Not caring about collateral damage.
"Mathias. Guide Riley to the gatehouse from the air." the helo pilot had already got the helo airborne and the cyclic pressed forward slightly with the camera on its nose pointed down and towards the tank.
"Everyone else in the back. Brimstone Zero Four hold on to the sides of the remaining vehicles!" everyone rushed about wanting to obey the orders and bug the fuck out all the while the Guards had now began advancing one more time. As two lads went round the side of one Mastiff three spears were thrown in their direction.
"Medic!"
Author's Note
This is a Meta-Fic comprising of a few friends and the HaS group. Plus this is my first Meta-Fic so sorry if its a lil shit.
-Midnight
