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WWIII
The pure silence was like a blanket, wrapping everything in its warm embrace. The dark desert road, sitting there like a ghostly snake, was suddenly covered in a swarm of military vehicles. Tanks, ATVs, quad bikes and land transports swarmed over the once silent road. Yelled commands came from the leading transport. An ugly vehicle stuffed with as many mini-guns as it could carry. After two more hours of nonstop driving, the armoured column came to a halt at a small, ruined and deserted village. The transports single, gate-like door swung down, crashing into the sand. From the vehicles, came an army of troopers, each armed to the teeth. Each of them knew that they had to hold this critical location or die trying. This would be the location that could win the war. The third world war.
The year was 2010. The second year of the war. The war had broken out in November of 2009, when Iraq launched a direct attack upon the US, killing millions of American civilians. The world was in shock. Nations friendly to Iraq had sent troops to help defend against the American assault. America and her allies had to fight a bloody crusade, to attempt to eradicate all resistance of Iraq and her allies. This armoured column was the 1st The Queen's Dragoon Guards. If they could hold they’re position, it would open up a huge hole in the Iraqi defences.
The first hour was uneventful, as the soldiers took up defensive positions. The engineers brought with the armoured column, quickly set up artillery in strategic points, using which they would rain destruction on any attacker’s heads. Halfway through the second hour, the radar picked up a large group of blips, heading straight towards their position. “This is the 1st The Queen's Dragoon Guards, we have set up a defensive position here, we are prepared to defend this point to the death, unless you reply within twenty seconds we will fire upon sight.” This was the message sent to the approaching army. There was no response. A message was sent to every defensive group to fire any approaching vehicles and/or infantry. Tension quickly built up around the defences, as they prepared for the worst. Sniper squadrons were positioned all around the ruin, prepared to massacre any unsuspecting forces who could break through the defences.
Half an hour later, the 22nd defensive position caught sight of a single motorcycle, approaching the defences. It took two minutes for the bike to crawl within firing range. However, just on the edge between range and not in range, he stopped, fiddled for a moment for something in his hand, swung his hand down toward the ground, and a white flag clacked out. He waved it a few times to symbolize that he was a messenger, before riding towards the defence. The leader of the regiment ordered him to be captured and killed. When he reached the 22nd defence he continued driving, until he hit the wall. The wall held as he smashed into it at 50 mph. His spine snapped and he was hurtled over the wall.
“Search the body” the commander said to the nearest trooper. He advanced and began searching the body. When he reached his hand, he pulled out the white flag. He flipped it over to see the bottom, and saw a red flashing light. “It’s a bomb!” These were the last words any of the 22nd defence heard. An almighty explosion shook the ground, as the 22nd defence was completely obliterated. On all sides of the village, heads turned to see an explosion moving with rapid speed towards them. The only survivors was the 1st SAS squadron, and the 68th sniper position. We shall be following the story of the 68th sniper position.
Next time ...
