LC Excerpt 3 part 1

Chapter 1

Growing up had its highs and lows. I was raised in a tiny apartment at the center of a bustling city with my parents and twin brother until I was nine. Although the tight space didn't allow for much personal space, this turned out to be a positive, for as a result of the close quarters, we were closer than any family I knew.

In a vibrant city like ours, there was always something to do. Every free moment was spent enjoying its attractions in the company of the delightful locals. Although I was young, I can still vividly recall those days. I cannot remember a time I've been happier.

A single act tore a joyful family in two.

I never got the full story from my mom, but as I understand it, my father got a little too friendly with his secretary at an office party. Based on my mom's reaction, he didn't just ask her to dance.

My father begged her not to take his boys, so they reached a compromise: one each.

My mom flipped a coin, which twinkled as it spun in the air. As the simple, captivating silver coin's rotation finally ended, my new life began. My mom grabbed my hand without saying a word, packed some of our stuff, and we were out the door. Within weeks, my mom and I moved hundreds of miles away to a bigger city.

How different would my life be if that coin had landed the other way?

I visited my father and brother every other holiday, and despite the time apart, we were still as thick as thieves. Every time I walked through the faded green door of that little apartment, it was as if no time had passed. Their appearances aged, but their smiles never changed. Like the old days, we'd spend our time out and about in the city, visiting all the old faces as they caught me up on everything new in the place I once called home.

The place I once called home. What the people around me refer to as the target.

My family separating wasn't the only significant piece of my life to split when I was a child. Months after my mom and I moved away, a power grab by hardliners and a plethora of other issues drove the republic where I was born to secede from the crumbling ruling power, resulting in separate nations. This included the city I grew up in, which became a prominent city in the newly independent country. It felt odd to cross a border when travelling to visit my dad and brother, but honestly, the idea of imaginary lines drawn all over the world confused me then and confuses me now.

The two countries' relationship was rocky at times. Still, the cultural similarities, not to mention the shared language and lineage of many of the citizens, kept the two countries united.

Until recently, that is.

For years there's been an ongoing civil war in the new country. But, like anything, it soon became a fact of life, just something that was happening, nothing to worry about. Moreover, most of the fighting took place away from any major metropolis, leaving most citizens unaffected.

Until all hell broke loose.

Unbeknownst to us, our leader had been planning an assault on the independent nation, claiming it was our duty to save those persecuted by their sinister leaders. While not entirely convinced by the rhetoric, I followed my military training and observed the chain of command. Our orders were to simply cruise into the capital and establish new leadership, thus liberating the kindhearted citizens from their tyrannical government. That would be that. Two parts rejoined.

When I initially received our orders, I momentarily recalled a sense of yearning I had long since abandoned, a scar carved deep during my childhood, that of my family reuniting. Unfortunately, that loss of focus may have blinded me from any common sense that would have alerted me that the military operation wouldn't be smooth sailing.

The first red flag was when our leadership's strategy to capture their capital was absolutely shut down by a well-prepared defence. Instead of ending the fighting, our assault, which was supposed to decisively end the war, became a praise-worthy defence, enraging and emboldening the defenders.

Now we fight to what is likely the death.

Chapter 2

I attempt to retreat as explosions rock the surrounding structures. With the enemy at my back, I rush toward my city, a tiny shelter, hidden and resilient, catching my eye. I alter my course and sprint to cover the distance, but just before entering, I glance up at the city I risk everything to protect. Many of the still-standing buildings are stained black, their windows shattered. Some gave in to the constant onslaught and partially or fully collapsed, but many still stand defiantly.

While there's a city to protect, I'll fight.

In the small enclosure are four of my brothers-in-arms. The youngest of them violently shakes as blood drips from the side of his head. The one caring for the shaking young man I know well. He goes by Genya. We trained and fought by each other's sides for years. He tries to calm the shaken young man, pushing a cup of water into his trembling hands with one hand, with his other resting on the young man's shoulder.

His efforts are to no avail as the shaking causes water to spray everywhere, soaking the young man's face without his wide eyes once blinking.

I grab a new water bottle, crack the lid and gently lean the struggling soldier's head back. With Genya comforting him, we convince him to drink some water and take deep breaths.

His condition slightly improves, so I ask Genya, "Have you received any orders? Last I heard, we're meant to hold this position."

"That's about all I know as well, but there's not much of a position left to defend," Genya responds, standing and crossing his arms.

I turn back to the young man, whose eyes are shut as he focuses on breathing. This is the result of the enemy's unprovoked assault. Young men, who should be studying, fighting for their lives.

"To think of what this boy could have been if not for this war," Genya mutters, clearly having a similar train of thought as me.

Unexpectedly, outrage materializes in my exhausted body, so I find a place to release it. I throw my weight against a surprised Genya, who falls to the ground.

"Could have been! Could have been! How about what he will be! We are not beaten. We have not surrendered. We will be victorious. We will ensure a safe and prosperous future for our people."

Everyone stares at me, but I pay them no mind. Ready for action, I lift my radio.

"Falcon 11, Hawk 1, over."

"Go ahead, Hawk 1, over."

"I'm on the southeast front, in front of the Chaoshi supermarket, four men with me, over."

Radio silence for a minute, then, "We have unmanned artillery six blocks east of your position. Its crew could not make it to the location. We could do some real damage if you can find a way there. If you have anyone needing evac, a unit is picking up spent soldiers. If you need out, I'll have them get close and radio you when they arrive, over."

Genya smirks at me, the same fury I felt moments ago radiating from his eyes. Knowing he's got my back even though I lost my temper moments ago, I nod at him, then glance over at the young soldier, who is obviously ready for evacuation, and then at the other two soldiers, who confirm they're still in this. I lift my radio and say, "I've got three going with me and one needing pickup. I'll switch his radio to your channel and—"

Choosing to take action despite his fear, the young man leaps to his feet and shouts, "You've got none for pickup. I'm going with."

Again I nod, staring at the unyielding young man, ready for another round, standing beside Genya.

"Correction," I say into the radio, "The five of us are moving to the position together. What target deserves our attention? Over."

A prompt response, "An overconfident general is pushing forward, possibly believing he's disabled all of our artillery. If you could drop a sack of shit on his location, that would be something. I'll update you with his location when you reach the target. You are to strike and then immediately retreat. Once they see that gun firing, they'll light it up. I say again, fire and run. Do not stick around. You've got one shot to wipe that shithead off the map, over."

"Wilco. Moving now, over."

Chapter 4

Our army presses forward, pushing our foe back into the city I spent my childhood and holidays. The initial sight of the city, which used to fill me with excitement as it meant I was near that cozy little apartment, now fills me with dread. While our leader claims the goal is peace and stability in the region, the lengths we've gone to in an attempt to attain so-called peace and stability have thus far been nothing short of despicable. Residential buildings, schools, and even a hospital have been the targets of our strikes, yet still, we press on.

Capturing this city would be a significant development in the war, provide a firm footing in the territory, and remove a vital piece of the enemy's infrastructure. Therefore, my higher-ups say it must be secured.

Recently, everything has been running smoothly. We countered two surprise attacks by the enemy and now press forward through a clear passage. We took care to destroy their artillery and carefully scoured the surroundings for the possibility of an ambush. The coast is clear.

Our general calls a halt to our advance and summons some of us.

Over the past months, repeated failures broke our once remarkably-stoic general down into an emotional mess. Understandably, there's a lot of pressure on him, and failure isn't taken well by his superiors, especially during what was supposed to be a simple operation.

As a result, he has become difficult to reason with. A destroy-anything-in-the-way attitude has replaced his once compassionate nature, and his policy about no civilian casualties has become a distant memory.

Once we arrive, our general barks, "Listen! We've got them against the wall, nowhere to run now. But just because we've got them pushed back does not make it acceptable to underestimate them. For all we know, those sneaky bastards are feigning retreat just to lure us into a trap. Well, they won't fool me again, no, not me.

We'll move in as our artillery gets into the range of most military targets. Then we will rain hell and flatten the city, guaranteeing our victory. There's no way to surprise us if there's nowhere to hide."

I'm appaled. Our order is to capture the city, so how he interpreted that to mean destroy the city is a testament to his current state of mind. His unkempt appearance tells of the inability to manage basic daily tasks, and the ways his eyes dart between each of us speak to his growing suspicion there's a traitor among our ranks.

I try to resist the urge to speak up, but every memory from that city overpowers me, and I cannot stop myself from blurting out, "Are you mad? We have one order, capture the city. How will you excuse yourself when all you have captured is rubble?"

The general's squinting eyes grow wide as he approaches me, bringing his nose inches from mine. "I make the orders! First, we must weaken these bastards. The city will be sacrificed to eliminate the elite troops within. Some will clear the city out from within, while others surround the city, and as our artillery rains fire, we'll kill anyone who tries to run. This isn't a debate!"

I immediately respond, "But the city hasn't been evacuated. There are civilians in there. We need to at least negotiate a corridor for the civilians to escape."

"And give those rats time to scurry away and attack us with our backs turned, I don't think so. We'll demolish the city and build anew. Our people can reconstruct and repopulate the city. Within decades, it will be as if nothing happened. Now you've heard your orders. Move!"

A scene flickers across my mind's eye. I'm sitting in my childhood home. My family sits around a board game. My parents smile as my brother, with his brow furrowed, comes up with a strategy. The game is Risk, a family favourite. My brother tried and tried to beat me, but I always won when it came to war games. Sometimes I had to be a little creative, what some may call cheating, but a win is a win. In this memory, I'm smiling. In this memory, I'm happy.

A certain peace comes over me, and I slam my fist against my general's chin. For a moment, the pain in my body and the nagging guilt I recently seem to always carry are gone. I advance as he stumbles backward, but unfortunately, I only get one shot as three of my comrades restrain me.

Although the general was once someone I respected greatly, the man in front of me only physically resembles the man I remember, and just barely. His character is that of another.

I'm grinning, but he has retaliation in mind and works my head and body over. For an older guy, he still has power behind his fists. Despite the pain that explodes all over my body, I keep a straight face. No point in showing my discomfort and giving him more satisfaction than he's already enjoying.

"You ready to do what you're told?" He asks as I'm dropped to the ground. "You will accompany one of the platoons that enter the city. There are some artifacts I've been asked to retrieve for a wealthy friend, and they can disappear without question if the world believes they were destroyed in the attack." He throws one last kick at my ribs, rubs the side of his chin and returns to his truck.

The meeting disperses as I get to my feet, stagger to my vehicle and pull myself into the passenger seat. The guy in the driver's seat examines my bloody nose and battered face but says nothing. Instead, he produces a towel from the back seat and hands it to me. I grunt in thanks, grab the towel, and hold it under my nose.

Our vehicles cruise forward.

Troops surround the city, and our artillery rolls into position. The convoy, my vehicle included, drives slightly to the left of the approaching artillery. The guns are already firing as our convey reaches the city's edge, but they seem to know only where not to aim. The random barrage of shells ravages everything within reach.

The front of the convoy penetrates the city, and soon we've all entered. We proceed carefully, scanning for any sign of an ambush. Our general orders us to wait far from an intersection with a barricade around a makeshift enclosure at its center. He gives another order, and we wait. Only the blasts from deeper within the city interrupt the silence.

The intersection explodes, and screams echo from the location. A second shell lands moments later, muting the cries. Our path is clear.

For ten minutes, we cautiously press forward until we reach a museum. Our orders are to guard the entrance while a few men enter.

It seems foolish to wait out in the open, but as I take a deep breath, my sore ribs remind me orders are orders.

Every shadow might be someone approaching to slaughter us. Every blast reminds me friendly fire could instantly wipe us out.

I'm nervous, eyes darting around, trying to spot any incoming hostiles before it's too late. My breathing is fast and unsteady, but calm comes over me again when I realize where I am. Across the street is a quaint park, untouched by the fighting, unchanged from when I was a boy. My brother and I spent warm summer days there, and after hours of cheery play, the now boarded-up ice cream shop next to the park was a frequent retreat of those two exhausted boys. For the hundredth time, I wonder why we're doing this.

Chapter 5

"Go! Go! Go!"

We sprint forward as artillery decimates our surroundings. Not even glancing up, the five of us press on. Nothing matters but unleashing hell upon the general who is ordering the destruction of civilian locations.

Ahead, a rocket strikes an apartment, throwing me off balance and littering the road with rubble. We run tight against the building on the opposite side of the street as a roaring fire reaches its long fingers up from the newly opened hole in the battered structure.

Another explosion behind us, but none of us slow down. There is but one mission.

Finally, we reach our destination, a hulking figure covered in a green tarp. Genya and the others prepare the weapon as I radio in, asking for a target. Explosions echo from where we came from, but this area remains undisturbed. Evidently, the enemy doesn't know about our little surprise.

"Oh shit, we have a triple seven!" Genya hollers. Of the two of us, he's definitely the more knowledgeable when it comes to weapons, but I know enough to understand we've hit the jackpot.

"Falcon 11, Hawk 1, over."

"Go ahead, Hawk 1, over."

"Falcon 11, we've reached the gun. Need a target, over." I say as clearly as possible, trying not to chuckle as Genya excitedly describes, in great detail, the weapon to the young soldier. The young soldier responds enthusiastically, clearly a fan of our find as well.

I'm given a target, which I relay to the others.

"Make it count, then get the hell out of there. Retreat south until you reach base three, then hunker down and wait for further orders, over."

"Wilco, over."

I turn back to Genya, who sees I'm done talking and yells, "We've got an Excalibur!"

I help finish preparing and programming the weapon. Finally, when all is said and done, as Genya gives everything a final once over, I grab the Howitzer's lanyard and offer it to the young soldier.

"Want to do the honours?"

He stares at me before snatching it from my hands.

"Yes, sir!" He replies.

"What's your name, kid?" I ask, realizing there are better times for chit-chat.

"James, sir," he says with a smile.

"It's good to have you here. You married?"

"Yes, sir, two years now."

"Good. You have someone to fight for. It's good to have somewhere to draw strength from when you need to dig yourself out of a pile of shit like this."

I turn to Genya. "All set?"

Genya nods at me and continues giving the weapon a lookover.

"Ready?" I ask James, who stares at me with the look of excitement a kid with a new toy would sport. No longer the shaken young man I met earlier, a warrior's spirit occupies the soldier standing before me. He stands tall, gripping the lanyard in both hands, eagerly waiting to unleash the beast.

"Give 'er!"

The weapon roars.

We run, and I hear a satisfying explosion in the distance, followed by several strikes against our previous location.

Our artillery was likely obliterated, but hopefully, so was the enemy general.

Chapter 6

Over the radio, I hear the news: a shell hit our general's vehicle. No survivors.

We hold our position for the next several minutes as voices over the radio scramble to establish new leadership.

Finally, orders arrive. The sporadic shelling will cease, to be replaced by a focused assault on all known military targets. Once the shelling of a specific target has concluded, we will move in and secure the area. This will continue with each consecutive target until they deem the city safe for occupation. More troops are on their way who will help hold the city once occupied.

Despite having mixed feelings about the death of my general, my once mentor, and my recent assailant, I let out a sigh of relief. At least the new leadership is concerned with sparing the civilian population, abandoning the departed's maniacal strategy of flattening the city.

Chapter 7

Breathing heavily, the five of us enter a boarded-up supermarket through the back door. The man who let us in pokes his head out the door before shutting it, looking disappointed when he learns there are only five of us. I understand his uneasy expression when I see the haven's occupants. The grocery store turned military shelter has become a humanitarian hideout, with considerable elders and children but less than two dozen soldiers.

Asking what the plan is, I'm told, "There's a transport vehicle on its way, but it's relatively small. It'll take a few trips to completely evacuate those sheltering here. The carrier will take them to the city's edge, where humanitarian workers are waiting to escort them to safety."

A young woman in red, introducing herself as Sveta, offers us water and granola bars, which we gratefully accept. I inhale the snack, feeling my adrenaline-loaded body relax ever so slightly, then swish warm water around my mouth, tasting blood on my tongue before swallowing.

"What do you know about a counteroffensive?" I ask a senior member of the group.

"Not much. Higher-ups are using a separate channel. All I know is that once these people are on their way to safety, we are to report to outpost four to help secure the northeast of the city. But it's going to be a long wait given the size of this group and the lack of vehicles."

"Maybe I can speed things up so we can join the fight faster," I say and raise my radio. After learning our strike was a success and some negotiating, I'm granted two more transport vehicles, which should be enough to empty this building. Another four armoured vehicles are being delivered to haul us to the front. The newly assigned transport vehicles will drop off their current occupants at the city's edge and arrive within fifteen minutes.

I get to work readying the civilians.

"Straight lines, straight lines! You'll walk quickly but carefully toward the vehicles when I give the order. Those of you helping people with mobility issues, line up at door number two and stand next to the person you will be helping. Vehicles will be here soon. I need you ready to move."

I look through a tiny opening in a boarded-up window. After completing a scan of the surrounding area, I grant myself a moment to reminisce on memories in the store's parking lot. It was a spot where locals would meet up and where I spent one too many nights as a teen. It was the one place I could always go and find someone to talk to. I spent many a long night out there, drinking and laughing.

A bus turns onto the main street, heading toward us. Then another, and another. I announce their arrival and resume scanning the surroundings. Unfortunately, debris lies sporadically around the entrance, so after exiting, we will need to walk for a short time before reaching the buses. The only positive is that it will serve as cover, a makeshift corridor between where a bus will park and where we will exit.

I shout, "If I yell retreat, I need you all to get back in here and go straight to the basement. Keep your heads low when you make it onto a bus, and wait for further orders."

The first bus turns into the parking lot. I take one last peek through my limited-field-of-vision peephole, then open the door.

"Go!"

The other door opens, and people pile out into the sunlight. Some shield their eyes, others look around frantically, but all are quiet.

The armoured vehicles arrive shortly after and park behind the buses.

Besides the shuffling feet and the idling engines, there's a certain unsettling silence.

The first bus leaves, and the second bus takes its place.

I continue scanning the area.

My heart sinks when I notice enemy vehicles approaching, but before I can even alert the group, they pull to the side of the road, out of sight and still a considerable distance away. They assume they have yet to be spotted, but why not engage us? Based on how many vehicles I saw, I reckon they have far more soldiers than we do, but do they know how many we have?

I take command, leaving a few soldiers to oversee the loading of the buses and summoning the rest of the soldiers into our vehicles. I know these streets well and intend to surprise the lurking enemy. I tell everyone to follow me as the second bus rolls away.

As the third bus takes the place of the second, we drive down the same road the first two buses are departing on, which runs perpendicular to the one the approaching enemies are on. My hope is that they take us for an armed escort to a humanitarian convoy. Instead of driving to the city's edge with the buses, I take my first left at a park with a few trees and a jungle gym, slowly manoeuvring around abandoned cars at the start of a road parallel to the targets. I know exactly where to go to catch them off guard.

I chuckle, considering how fortunate I am to have seen the enemy before they hid.

There's an explosion. I slam on the brakes and spin in my seat to see the building beside the grocery store with smoke billowing from a massive hole in its side. The civilians who are still outside panic and run back inside, while some of the third bus's passengers abandon the vehicle for what seems to them the safer option. As the third bus starts to leave, the soldiers finally enter and slam the door behind them. But moments after the door to the store closes, a shell hits it dead center, creating a massive crater where the door stood.

Another. Another. Another.

There's only rage now. I stomp the accelerator, the tires screech, and we shoot forward. Again, I require an outlet for my anger. I see only those spineless skulking invaders.

I picture the faces of the civilians who were last in line. I remember Sveta, who offered to board the buses last to help a woman in a wheelchair onto the bus.

She stayed back to help.

Now she is no more.

That shrieking in my head, which lately isn't entirely uncommon, reaches a new decibel, so I howl in hopes of releasing the racket in my cranium. But, of course, it's no use. Nothing but ending this war will bring me peace now. Maybe even that won't be enough after what I've seen. But, regardless of what my future holds, I will avenge the fallen.

The men in my vehicle, hearing my anguished cry, scream along with me, and despite the roaring engines, I hear those in the other vehicles doing the same.

I shut up and, a few blocks from the ideal vantage point, exit my vehicle. Finally, we reach an alley with an old, thin, rusty ladder climbing a tall apartment building. My ex-girlfriend and I used to watch the sunset from atop this building. While the roof offers a lovely view at dusk, a sunset's beauty pales in comparison to the sight of our unsuspecting adversaries.