10-14-2006, 05:21 AM
Self-explanatory. Maybe an hour's worth of work. And I actually edited it this time!
It seemed like it would be a good day for Cpl. Locklear. At first, his patrol around the area seemed like it was going to be nice and easy; a milk run. His squad would do their job, report back to HQ and play some cards afterwards. The day was going to be relaxed, calm and uneventful.
That is, of course, until the tank came along.
Rounding the corner of the scorched, urban, Middle-Eastern street, the T-72 seemed to be larger than it actually was. Armed to the teeth with a 125MM cannon and an internally-mounted Heavy Machine Gun, the T-72 was not something a lone squad wanted to see. It kicked up a storm of dust as it moved closer, and rotated it's turret...right towards Locklear's squad.
"ENEMY TANK!" he bellowed, alerting the rest of his squad. "GET OUT OF HERE, FOLLOW ME!" he shouted, running inside the tal-walled courtyard of a home. His squad scrambled in after him, and just in the nick of time. The tank fired off a High Explosive round; shattering a nearby car into a thousand pieces and sending a gout of flame high into the air. As bits of metal and glass pelted the squad below, the tank thundered closer down the road, shaking the ground beneath Locklear's feet.
"Who's got the SRAW?!" Locklear asked, requesting the squad's assigned anti-armor weapon. It could punch a hole through most modern armor, and would make short work of the tank...if his squad had thought to bring it.
"WELL?" he asked.
A pale-faced Private lifted his head up and said, "I-I was supposed t-to bring it, sir. I don't have it."
The wall surrounding the courtyard suddenly exploded in a shower of stone and smoke. The men were thrown to the ground 5 feet from where they'd started. "Damnit, get in that building!" he ordered, pointing to the house ahead. "Away from the windows, don't give him a clear shot!" They all scrambled to enter the building just as the dust cleared...and gave the T-72 a perfect view of the soldiers.
The tank's HMG spat out 7.62MM rounds into the building, shredding furniture inside and leaving fist-sized pockmarks in the wall. Bits of stone and fabric fluttered about the room, as the men ran up the stairwell and away from the certain-death on the 1st floor below.
"King-6, this is Delta-11, do you copy?" Locklear said into his helmet-mounted mic. "King-6, are you there, over? We need immediate air support at position 546 by 43, acknowledge, over!"
The headset crackled static and burst to life. "Roger that, be advised that strike fighters are en route. ETA 2 minutes."
"We're not gonna last that long!" he yelled, but was answered with only static from his headset. He needed to make some time. "Smoke into the courtyard, buy us some time, air support is one the way!" he ordered. The squad primed and threw black-smoke grenades; the effect was temporary, though. The tank continued to thunder away on the building, machine gun and cannon blazing. The floor shook beneath Locklear's feet as the buildings supports started to strain. Bits of dust fell from the ceiling, coating the floor beneath.
He knew he wasn't going to last here, and needed a way out. There was a window leading onto a balcony...which was connected to the adjacent building. The only problem was that it was clearly visible from the courtyard by means of a fresh, gaping wound in the structure, courtesy of the armored behemoth a floor below.
There was no time. The building was starting to creak under the continued fire.The smoke would clear soon, and then it would be only a matter of time before the building collapsed under their feet, killing them all. There was only one way out; a balcony connecting the building and the one next to it...which, has he noticed before, Locklear already would have entered. "Everyone onto the balcony, double time!" he yelled, sprinting towards it with his men in hot pursuit. He stepped out into the scorching Arabian sun, and hopped the barrier bisecting the balcony. "Move move move!" he yelled, shoving his men over the barrier. He heard a faint drone and squinted upwards; a speck of black was approaching fast.
The F-15E Strike Eagle locked onto the T-72, setting off alarm's in the tanks cabin. The driver of the tank panicked and tried to flee, but it was no use. A flash of smoke and fire accelerated ahead of the Eagle; an AGM-65 Maverick Missile. It accelerated faster, reaching close to the sound barrier, closing with the vehicle lightning-quick. In a flash of smoke and thunder, the missile impacted along the front of the tank. A huge ball of fire and superheated metal exploded upwards, and the much-abused building finally started to give way. Stone and glass rained onto the burning wreck below, smothering it and crushing the remains as the Eagle rolled and streaked away.
"Woooo-hoo! Target e-liminated, repeat, target destroyed. Damn fine, King-6!" Locklear said into his mic as the rest of his squad celebrated behind him.
"Just doing my job, Delta-11. King-6, over and out," the pilot said cordially, but Locklear detected a note of pride in his voice. He grinned and turned to his squad.
"Well, I think we're done for today," he told them, grinning widely and receiving the same in return. "Let's head back."
He turned on his heel and descended into the staircase of the new building. Maybe the day didn't turn out so bad after all...
It seemed like it would be a good day for Cpl. Locklear. At first, his patrol around the area seemed like it was going to be nice and easy; a milk run. His squad would do their job, report back to HQ and play some cards afterwards. The day was going to be relaxed, calm and uneventful.
That is, of course, until the tank came along.
Rounding the corner of the scorched, urban, Middle-Eastern street, the T-72 seemed to be larger than it actually was. Armed to the teeth with a 125MM cannon and an internally-mounted Heavy Machine Gun, the T-72 was not something a lone squad wanted to see. It kicked up a storm of dust as it moved closer, and rotated it's turret...right towards Locklear's squad.
"ENEMY TANK!" he bellowed, alerting the rest of his squad. "GET OUT OF HERE, FOLLOW ME!" he shouted, running inside the tal-walled courtyard of a home. His squad scrambled in after him, and just in the nick of time. The tank fired off a High Explosive round; shattering a nearby car into a thousand pieces and sending a gout of flame high into the air. As bits of metal and glass pelted the squad below, the tank thundered closer down the road, shaking the ground beneath Locklear's feet.
"Who's got the SRAW?!" Locklear asked, requesting the squad's assigned anti-armor weapon. It could punch a hole through most modern armor, and would make short work of the tank...if his squad had thought to bring it.
"WELL?" he asked.
A pale-faced Private lifted his head up and said, "I-I was supposed t-to bring it, sir. I don't have it."
The wall surrounding the courtyard suddenly exploded in a shower of stone and smoke. The men were thrown to the ground 5 feet from where they'd started. "Damnit, get in that building!" he ordered, pointing to the house ahead. "Away from the windows, don't give him a clear shot!" They all scrambled to enter the building just as the dust cleared...and gave the T-72 a perfect view of the soldiers.
The tank's HMG spat out 7.62MM rounds into the building, shredding furniture inside and leaving fist-sized pockmarks in the wall. Bits of stone and fabric fluttered about the room, as the men ran up the stairwell and away from the certain-death on the 1st floor below.
"King-6, this is Delta-11, do you copy?" Locklear said into his helmet-mounted mic. "King-6, are you there, over? We need immediate air support at position 546 by 43, acknowledge, over!"
The headset crackled static and burst to life. "Roger that, be advised that strike fighters are en route. ETA 2 minutes."
"We're not gonna last that long!" he yelled, but was answered with only static from his headset. He needed to make some time. "Smoke into the courtyard, buy us some time, air support is one the way!" he ordered. The squad primed and threw black-smoke grenades; the effect was temporary, though. The tank continued to thunder away on the building, machine gun and cannon blazing. The floor shook beneath Locklear's feet as the buildings supports started to strain. Bits of dust fell from the ceiling, coating the floor beneath.
He knew he wasn't going to last here, and needed a way out. There was a window leading onto a balcony...which was connected to the adjacent building. The only problem was that it was clearly visible from the courtyard by means of a fresh, gaping wound in the structure, courtesy of the armored behemoth a floor below.
There was no time. The building was starting to creak under the continued fire.The smoke would clear soon, and then it would be only a matter of time before the building collapsed under their feet, killing them all. There was only one way out; a balcony connecting the building and the one next to it...which, has he noticed before, Locklear already would have entered. "Everyone onto the balcony, double time!" he yelled, sprinting towards it with his men in hot pursuit. He stepped out into the scorching Arabian sun, and hopped the barrier bisecting the balcony. "Move move move!" he yelled, shoving his men over the barrier. He heard a faint drone and squinted upwards; a speck of black was approaching fast.
The F-15E Strike Eagle locked onto the T-72, setting off alarm's in the tanks cabin. The driver of the tank panicked and tried to flee, but it was no use. A flash of smoke and fire accelerated ahead of the Eagle; an AGM-65 Maverick Missile. It accelerated faster, reaching close to the sound barrier, closing with the vehicle lightning-quick. In a flash of smoke and thunder, the missile impacted along the front of the tank. A huge ball of fire and superheated metal exploded upwards, and the much-abused building finally started to give way. Stone and glass rained onto the burning wreck below, smothering it and crushing the remains as the Eagle rolled and streaked away.
"Woooo-hoo! Target e-liminated, repeat, target destroyed. Damn fine, King-6!" Locklear said into his mic as the rest of his squad celebrated behind him.
"Just doing my job, Delta-11. King-6, over and out," the pilot said cordially, but Locklear detected a note of pride in his voice. He grinned and turned to his squad.
"Well, I think we're done for today," he told them, grinning widely and receiving the same in return. "Let's head back."
He turned on his heel and descended into the staircase of the new building. Maybe the day didn't turn out so bad after all...
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