Okay, so this is the first story I have wrote that was not for school. Hope you like it and Honest feedback would be nice!

The year is 2015, four years since the worlds most wanted man has been killed, Osama Bin Laden. Yet America is still waging war with the Taliban. A young boy, age of 19 enlisted when the war heightened in 2013, he understood that this war was far from over. The boy’s name you may wonder? Johnston, Kingston, he enlisted and went to the air force rangers, the elite of the elite for the USAF.
He was immediately deployed to Afghanistan, when he got the notification his heart raced, all he could think about was what it would be like over in a war zone. He is shipped a week later; he arrived safely, once there sweat poured off of him like water coming off a water fall. The 2nd day he is there they got a mission, this mission was helping a seal team so the mission was very hush hush. He grabbed his load out he needed for the mission, Johnston carried his trusty old M-16 his father used on Vietnam, and a switchblade strapped on his leg. All the soldiers boarded the C-130 cargo plane headed to the drop zone.
The engines started up and roared like a strong wind on a summer’s day back in the states. Johnston took a seat near the middle of the aircraft, as he looked around he saw some soldiers reviewing battle plans, others praying, others just sitting there. He looks at the maps then takes a nap due to the drop zone being 2 hours away.
Suddenly he is awoken by the sound of multiple explosions and a burning piercing sensation on his forehead, like a knife cutting through his skin. A soldier beside Johnston screams, “Medic!”
As Johnston begins to lose conscious he hears another boom, then a soldier yelling, “Flak, were going down, brace for impact!”
Johnston’s eyes close slowly as he slips into unconscious, the deep red of the blood from his head covers his face as the medic tries to save him. As the medic works franticly the plane slowly descends, engine one and three are on fire. The plane hits the ground within 2 minutes of Johnston slipping to unconscious, the jolt of the impact and the sound of metal banging together like the sound of a junkyard crane, wakes him up. The medic says to Johnston, “You’re ok; you’re going to make it, just keep that bandage on your head and get your rifle, we need some covering fire!”
“What happened?” Johnston asks as he picks up his rifle.
The medic replies, “The Taliban have gotten ahold of some old flak guns, you took a piece of shrapnel to the head.”
Johnston quickly finds his M-16 and spots a few enemy soldiers charging the downed C-130, the sounds of gun fire is popping nonstop like fireworks on the fourth of July! One after one he sees a spent cartridge fly out of the bolt on his weapon. Then suddenly he hears, “Hold fire!”
He takes his finger off the trigger but keeps his weapon shouldered. The area the C-130 crashed in was just an open desert with a hill, on this other hill was a small enemy encampment, that is where the attacks came from, he looks, he can’t figure out where the hold fire order came from. None of the plane crash survivors said it. Then 4 U.S navy seals come out of the sand in ghillie suits. Johnston is in shocked; he couldn’t believe how well they were hidden in the sand of all terrains.
The seals and the survivors of the plane crash begin helping out the medic treating the wounded. One of the seals has been trained in field surgery. He grabs the medic bag, and searches franticly for a needle and some thread. Johnston asks, “What do you need thread and needle for?” As he loses conscious again.
The seal screams, “I need another needle and some… O negative blood!” as he checks Johnston’s dog tags. The medic quickly finds a needle and another seal steps up and says, “I have O negative blood.”
They quickly begin a transfusion and stitching up Johnston’s head, an hour later he comes too. He hears the sound of air whipping, the quickly realizes he is on a chopper headed back to base.
He finds a soldier he knew on the C-130 and asks, “What happened to them? Did they continue on the mission?!”
The soldier looks at him and just nods his head.
Two weeks after he arrived back at the base after the crash, he is returned to active duty. He is assigned a new mission immediately, he was told to report to the briefing room at 0300, three in the morning.
He walks in, the lights are dimmed very low, cold hard metal chairs for the soldiers to sit on, and the smell of cigarette smoke fills the air like a thick morning fog. A colonel, in a standard desert camouflage fatigues walks up to the oak wood podium at the front of the room.
“Hit it!” He yells, the lights shut off completely; the room is pitch black, like new roads asphalt. Then the whir of a computer can be heard from the back of the room. Then a projector displays a map on the wall behind the colonel and his podium.
“Gentlemen, this mission is of the highest level of secrecy. You 25 men have been chosen to do the op because of your high skills each and every single one of you have. Chances are on 10 of you will make it back alive, if you are not willing to take this chance, please exit now.”
No one leaves the room. The colonel gives them a stare, “alright then, looks like we may just succeed with this mission.”
Unknown to the whole platoon, there mission is to search a few small towns for weapons of mass destruction including, nuclear, biological, and pure high explosives.
The morning sun rises; the heat boils the desert base like an egg on a side walk. That evening Johnston prepares his kit which includes items such as, plenty of ammo, C-4, his switchblade and other items that he thinks he will need on his mission.
Night comes, 2300 hours; they load onto special stealth CH-47 chinhook helicopters. Johnston feels sick to his stomach, as if he was on a ship, at the thought of getting into the air again after what happened with the C-130. It takes 2 choppers to carry the whole 25 men platoon to the drop point near the first town they were to search. Midnight, the platoon lands, Johnston takes a look around and notices the houses are made of dried mud and wooden doors with a straw roof, he thinks to himself, “There is no way any weapons are going to be hidden in this small town.”
The platoon splits up and group A takes the west flank, and group B takes the east flank of the town. Johnston is put on point for group B as they search houses one by one. His colonel, takes point of group A. Suddenly group B’s headset come alive with the sounds of screams, it was the colonel, “Armor, T-90’s coming down the road, get the anti-tank weapons on this side of town ASAP!”
Because the main road into town was on the east where group B was, they took all the anti-tank weapons. Group B scrambles into action as they can hear the enemy tanks approaching; the squeak of the tank treads could be heard from a couple hundred yards.
The colonel gets on the radio to the base, “We got armor coming, and we need immediate air support over!”
Base command replies, “Negative we currently have no aircraft available to do strike, over.”
All of the bases aircraft were running ground attack missions 300 clicks to the south of the platoon’s current location. Suddenly Johnston hears a massive boom, and feels the shockwave off of it, he screams on the radio, “Colonel? What happened over there?”
There is a silence over the radio only to be broken by the sound of another loud explosion, this time though it was closer and the shock wave greater. Johnston looks up, a two story house about a block and a half down the road has come tumbling down and dust is filling the air. Then around the corner of the block in front of them, a massive, desert camouflage and dust covered T-90 appears, Johnston lobs a fragmentation grenade at the tank, it lands beside a track and blows the tread off.
“The tanks immobilized!” Johnston yells over the headset. A soldier nearby fires a javelin rocket launcher, the war head pierces right through the armor plate and blows the turret clean off the body of the tank! The explosion is massive and sends a fire ball along with the turret high into the air. The remainder of the platoon radios base and calls for medical evacuation for the casualties.
The remainder of the platoon continues the mission, they clear the first town, and then the second then they reach the third. They come across a plain looking house, mud walls, wooden door, and straw roof, Johnston is on point, he breaches the door, and no one is there. Several soldiers walk in behind Johnston, all that they see is a hatch in the floor, Johnston slowly bends down, and opens it, the old rusted hinges creak and squeak as it gets jammed half way open, it’s open enough so the rangers can look inside of it, they see a countdown timer that reads ten minutes in bright neon green numbers. To the left of the timer is a bright yellow and dark black radiation sign.
“It’s a nuclear bomb!” Johnston yells, all the soldiers start running, they know that due to the size of it, there is a possibility they can get far enough away to avoid he blast. The countdown keeps on beeping every second as the platoon is running for their lives.

The platoon is nearly two miles away in twenty minutes. They stop, Johnston looks back at the town with a puzzled look, “Why didn’t it go off he asks?”
“Maybe it was a dud.” A private replies.
Then suddenly, the largest and brightest explosion Johnston has ever seen, the wind off the explosion throws him back about 100 feet, he hits his head on a rock and passes out. When he comes too he is in a hospital, he looks around, the walls are white, and there is a TV, he then looks to the left, there is a window with a navy blue chair beside it with his girlfriend sitting there, she is sleeping. Johnston then turns his head to look out the window; he sees the bright blue sky with a couple white puffy clouds. He quickly realizes he is back in the states! He raises his hand up to make sure he didn’t lose them in whatever event that put him in the hospital, they are there, but his legs from his knees down are gone.
“Jenny!” He shouts in an attempt to wake her from her slumber.
She opens her eyes and runs her fingers through her thick dark dirty blonde long hair. Jenny turns her attention to the bed and she becomes ecstatic!
“John! I can’t believe you’re alive!” She exclaims, Jenny runs over to Johnston and hugs him, being careful not to unplug any monitors or IV’s.
“What happened?” Johnston asks.
Jenny looks at him, “You were in a nuclear bomb blast, and the explosion threw you back almost 100 feet!”
“Did… did any of the rest of the platoon survive?” He asks.
“No…” she pauses, “You are the only one who made it.” She replies.
He breaks down crying; Jenny goes out and gets the Dr. to let him know that Johnston finally awoke.
When the Dr. and Jenny come back in he says, “How… how am I the only one left? How did the radiation and shock wave not kill me?”
“The blast that threw you back must have thrown you over something that protected you, that’s all the field medics and I could figure out as to how you survived.” The doctor replies.
“What happened to my legs?” Johnston manages to mumble out in-between sobs.
“The heat from the blast caught some papers you had in your pants pocket on fire, which caught your pants on fire, and then your legs, I’m sorry there was nothing we could do to save them.” The doctor replies with a low, soft voice.
A few months later pass; he has recovered enough to be released from the hospital. Johnston now dedicates his life to supporting the military anyway he can. Jenny and him make comfort boxes for the troops; send money to the U.S.O so they can do a tour over in the warzone.
Johnston gets prosthetic legs a few months after he was released from the hospital, he learns to use them and begins taking long walks, and he tells Jenny it gets his mind off bad memories.
One day Johnston is at home, his phone rings, he is getting ready to go for a walk, but the piercing annoying sound of the phone ringing drives him to answer it, “Hello?” He asks shrewdly.
“Is this Johnston Kingston?” An older man’s voice asks.
“Yes, who are you?”
“Well, to you I’m colonel.” The voice replies.
“The T-90...” Johnston mutters out.
“No kid, it didn’t kill me.” The colonel’s voice softens and becomes kinder.
“But the whole building came down, how did you make it?” Johnston asks franticly.
“Look, don’t keep asking questions, the important thing is, we are both still alive, even though I don’t know how you are after that nuke blast…” The colonel pauses, his voice gets even softer, “I’m retired from the military now, do you want to meet somewhere and catch up?”
“Yeah, I’d like that” Johnston says.
Later Johnston and the Colonel buy their own fishing boat and Johnston proposes to Jenny. They get married and years later have their first child, Johnny.

The end.

Nice story

Wow nice

D: wars

Very well written story !
It was excellent on description.
Made the reader feel as though they were there experiencing
everything , which is the mark of any good story.

It also had excellent suspense elements and keeps the reader on
the edge of there seat. It also brought home very well all the
'realities" of war. I think that was the best quality it had.
Also seems like if you just changed a bit maybe near the end you
could write a continuation if you wanted to rocky.

In any event its a well done story to be sure,
thanks for sharing !

Brian

That was a great story!!!

I really enjoyed it, fabulous job on it, looking forward to more.

I really like it! It's a very cool idea and story. There are some grammar discrepancies, a few places where you could use different structure, but overall, a really nice story. You've inspired me to post some of mine

So other then just some grammatical errors and maybe a few other places where I could have used better vocabulary its pretty good? That's great!
Thanks for all the comments guys, I'm working on the sequel to this now!

A soldier never forgotten 2

A sequel to the first one as posted above.
This short story is not to be posted anywhere else except where I give written permission to, nor can you use this story as your own for any purposes with out again written permission from myself.

Hope you guys enjoy....

Johnny, Johnny Kingston, the only son of Johnston Kingston a war vet that survived the first ever tac nuke blast in Afghanistan. He’s 30 years old now, his father Johnston being 49. Johnny has grown up to be a very tall, dark haired blue eye man. His eyes are as blue as the Atlantic Ocean, his hair as dark as tree bark. The ladies were all over him, he was a very lucky guy even at a very young age. For example, one day when he was 16, Johnny was on his way to work when he saw a homeless man on the sidewalk, the homeless man had on fingerless gloves, a torn up vest and a rugged red polo shirt on.
The homeless man looks at Johnny, “Spare a few dollars mister?”
Johnny pauses from continuing on walking down the road, “Sir, I only have 10 dollars to my name, I’m on my way to work right now. I’m sorry.”
The homeless man bows his head, “It’s fine, I understand, it just seems no one has enough money to spare for a vet hard on his luck.”
Guilt begins filling Johnny, he slowly reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 10 dollar bill and hands it to the homeless man. “Thank you! God bless you!” The homeless man replies after receiving the money.
Johnny nods his head and continues walking to work, when he is a block away from his work he looks down and sees a 20 dollar bill laying on the ground. This is just one example of Johnny’s luck from the past, and it has never failed!
Johnny had thought about going into the military to follow in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps, with his luck his figured nothing bad would really happen, but in the end Jenny talked him out of it. Being 30 years old all he has done is work here and there, never really decided what he wanted to do with his life, for a couple months he even worked on his father’s fishing boat and thought about being captain when his old man retired. Right now, just working at the local bar being a bartender he basically survives off tips he receives.
One night he is working at the bar, “Paradise” was the name of the joint. Johnny enjoyed working here as he has for a month now, but is beginning to grow board of the same thing day after day. The bar spelled of old oak wood and liquor, some people even the most avid drinkers were turned away at the smell some of the locals and Johnny loved the smell. Anyway, one night as he was working a man came busting through the door, arms full of raunchy tattoos and a leather vest on. He had a real mean look to his eye, his dark green beady eyes shifted left, then shifted right looking over the place. The tattooed man sees a empty bar stool and slowly walks over as he continues looking the place over.
“What can I get you?” Johnny asked politely.
“Germanic black brew.” The man replies with a deep thunderous voice.
“I’m sorry sir, black brew is banned throughout the city. Anything else I could get you?” Johnny quickly replies.
“Yeah…” He pauses and looks to the kegs on the wall behind the bar, “Rot gut whiskey”
As Johnny turns around to grab a shot glass and some of the worst, cheapest whiskey the bar had in stock the man jumps up and grabs the bar stool and slams it against Johnny’s head. As soon as Johnny’s unconscious body hits the ground 3 guys, 2 with pistols one with a shotgun enter the bar, “No body move, no body dies.” One of the gunmen exclaim.
The tattooed man jumps over the bar and runs to the register and opens it up, grabs and the money and takes off running out with the gunmen covering his escape. One of the locals quickly run behind the old wooden bar with parts of a broken bar stool strung across it.
“Johnny? Johnny, can you hear me?” The local asks whilst gentle shaking Johnny.
There is no response from Johnny. Suddenly from outside gun shots erupt the gunshots echo throughout Johnny and he jumps up hitting his head on the bar. Luckily the hit doesn’t knock him back out, “Ouch!” He complains as he rubs the back of his head, “What was that? A gunshot?”
The local replies frantically, “Yeah, it came from outside, didn’t your dad say he was coming over for a drink tonight?”
“Dad!” Johnny yells, without hesitation he jumps up and runs around the bar and out the door as fast as he can. As soon as he bursts outside the bar door he sees an old 67 mustang zooming down the street and his father’s car sitting in the parking lot getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Johnston slumped over on the steering wheel. The air is cold, but Johnny feels hot tears running down his cheeks dim street lights around light up the parking lot with an eerie glow as Johnny runs over to his father’s car. He reaches the car and grabs the door handle and throws it open violently and sees his dad has been shot in the neck, Johnny rips off his shirt and outs pressure on the wound.
“Somebody call 911!” He pleads as the people in the bar begin running outside.
“Johnny…” His father coughs and wheezes, “This is it for me buddy…” Hot blood begins running through the shirt and over Johnny’s hand. “Go home, grab my M-16, its yours now, get the guys that did this… For your old man,” His voice begins getting weaker and weaker by every word he speaks; cherry red blood runs down into his lap, “Remember I will always love you and your mot…” Half way through his word there is a sigh, and his body goes limp.
Johnny’s eyes begin pouring out tears as he drops to his knees beside the car door, his hand soaked in blood, he begins to sweat even though it is a chilly 45 outside and him with no shirt. In the distance the wail of ambulance sirens approaching.
“He can’t be.” Johnny struggles to get out. He looks up from the ground into the car. A voice from behind gets his attention, “Sir? Can you please move back?” As a frantic paramedic voice demands. Johnny goes home and gets drunk and passes out in the chair hoping to not remember what happened.
As Johnny awakens in the chair with a bottle of jack beside him he puts his hand over his eyes as the morning sun through the window does not feel too good with a hangover. Suddenly a wave of emotions strikes Johnny as he realizes what he had thought was a dream was reality of the night before. Johnny’s eyes tear up at just the thought of the gunshots again. His fingers begin to grip the brown leather arm rests on the chair violently with anger and grief. He wipes the tears from his eyes and slowly gets up with a stumble here and there walks to his car and drives to his father’s house a few blocks over.
“Mom?” He shouts as he walks through the front door, there is no reply, he walks back to the bedroom to find her still sleeping as if she has no idea what happened, of course for how late Johnston was shot, she probably has no idea. He slowly walks over to the brown closet door on the pristine white carpet softly trying not to make noise. As he opens the door, “Hello Johnny, what are you doing here this early? And do you have any idea where your father is?” Johnny’s mother asks him.
“I came over to pick up Dad’s rifle from the war, sorry I woke you.” His voice softly replies trying to act as if nothing is wrong.
“What on earth do you need that for?”
“Something happened last night…” Johnny pauses as he begins to pick up the rifle, “Where are the ammo cases?”
“Underneath that pile of old papers. Now, what happened, what do you need that gun for?” She replies.
“Mom, last night a guy came into the bar, slammed a bar stool across the back of my head…” As he paused his mother buts in
“Well that isn’t any reason to go kill a man!”
“Three gunmen that were with him came in… Robbed the bar and Dad was pulling up as they left, they shot him.” Johnny’s voice begins to break as he sits down on the edge of the bed.
“What? This must be some sick cruel prank!” She pleads.
“No… I saw it, he was shot in the neck and died telling me he loved us both, but he also told me to get his M-16 and get the men that shot him.”
Without looking back at his mother he grabs the cases of ammo and the rifle and walks out the door back to his car, he starts the engine and drives back home. Without showing a bit of emotion he walks in the door, sits back down in his leather chair with the bottle of whiskey still sitting beside it, he puts the rifle on his lap slowly and gingerly. As the black rifle lay on Johnny’s lap he studies the gun, every piece of it. He begins reaching to pull the clip out, picks up a case of 7.62mm ammo, the brass shines in the sun coming through the window like a search light. Bullet by bullet Johnny loads the clip and puts it back into the rifle, “No one messes with Kingstons.” He manages to get out in a low angry monotone voice.
Johnny sits there quietly thinking to himself, why they had to shoot Johnston, what was the motive, and where they were. As Johnny begins thinking back to last night harder and harder he can’t stand the thought of what happened, he becomes extremely angry like a snake being poked with a stick. As he picks up the rifle he sees out the window a mustang pulling up outside his house. Johnny jumps up and cocks the rifle, jumps behind the couch with the rifle pointing over it at the door.
“Knock, knock!” A voice from outside calls out.
“Come on in! It’s open!” Johnston yells in reply loud enough for them to hear clearly.
The door slams open and the tattooed man takes a foot in the door, Johnny quickly fires a 3 round burst into the man’s chest. He drops to the ground face first, as a pool of blood starts encircling him another man, carrying a pistol walks in over the body and takes a shot at Johnny, the gun fires, it sounds like Thunder in the small enclosed space of the living room, the shot misses though and hits the wall behind Johnny, after realizing he wasn’t hit Johnny fires another 3 round burst into this man.
“They got boss man and Gunner!” A voice from outside yells franticly.
The mustang fires up and quickly speeds away down the street, Johnny immediately calls 911 and within minutes cops arrived at the scene.
“What happened here son?” A cop questions Johnny.
“Well sir, my dad was shot last night at the bar, he told me to grab his M-16 from the war and avenge him, I just got done loading it when a mustang looking similar if not identical to the one that shot my father pulled up. A tattooed man busted in the door and behind him a man with a gun, so I took appropriate action as to defend myself.”
“Alright, he is holding a gun and the door does looked forced, I think we can call it self-defense. “ The cop replies after studying Johnny for any signs that tells he is lying.
Well he got vengeance on 2 of the 4 men that killed his father, and now he can no longer stay at house, one being they know where he lives and two, his house is now a closed off crime scene. He packs up a few sets of clothes and manages to sneak the M-16 with a single extra case of ammo out without the police getting there grubby hands on it.
The hotel Johnny checks into is two stories tall, with old coal fired brick. The room he checks into has mucus green mold growing on the walls and water damage on the ceiling right over the bed.
“This is going to be a fun stay…” Johnny speaks to himself, thinking how this could get any worse. It is evening Johnny hasn’t even had the urge to eat all day long, picturing the night before makes him sick to his stomach. Lying down he quickly falls asleep not to wake till morning.
Birds chip, the sun slowly rises, dew begins to evaporate off the grass, and it was almost peaceful except for the pounding at the door. “Police! Open up Kingston!” A voice from outside demands.
Johnny, still groggy from a bad night’s sleep due to the springs in the mattress poking him in the back all night long like needles, walks over to the door and unlocks it and lets the police come in, tackling him as another grabs the gun and quickly confiscate it.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Mike ‘Boss’ Jones and Gunner Jones, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” The cop lectures to Johnny while he is hand cuffing him.
Johnny is thrown in the city jail for a week until his trial. Once a week had passed and his trial came up he was escorted out to a police cruiser in a classic orange jumpsuit and cuffs. Finally after a little drive they reach the courthouse they walk in, the smell of wood and tension fills the air. The trial begins with overwhelming evidence that the killing of “Boss” and Gunner was not self-defense and no evidence against them for killing Johnston; of course Johnny knew there would be no evidence against them for the murder of his father.
At the end of the trial Johnny is convicted for murder, because he did not follow self-defense policy which is going to the farthest room in the house and looking the door. Once the verdict is announced a wave of emotion comes over Johnny, he knows that he did the right thing, for his father even though the law might not see it that way. Ten years in the state jail for murder of two men.
In prison Johnny has to share his cell with another inmate convicted for murder as well, the small brick wall and concrete floor cell could barely hold the too! But over time they became friends, discussed everything from what they had done to get thrown in prison to their favorite food. Tom, he was a tall well-built muscular guy, light brown almost dirty blonde hair and baby blue eyes, he looked nice but inside he was a killer, he even vowed to help Johnny find the last two gunmen that shot his father.
As Johnny kept getting letters from his mother he could tell she was getting along okay for the circumstances! Johnny kept counting the days until he got out, day after day; as his anger grew he became bitterer even to Tom.
Finally! Johnny is free after serving his debt to society. He cancels the plan for him and Tom to go after the other two, the way Johnny sees it now is it is not worth it. It’s not worth having another prison sentence and a bigger police record. When he gets home, he jumps off the bus and runs to the front door, goes in and immediately takes a hot shower, the mirror fogs up as if it were on a high peak of a mountain. Johnny feels refreshed, as if the past had been washed away. As he gets out he takes his towel and wipes the hot mist off the mirror and shaves the stubble off of his face that he had achieved in prison.
“Ah, much better!” As Johnny rubs his smooth shaven face and combs his hair.
The next day he goes over to visit his mother and learns she is doing well, has a nice job, and is generally happy. After a visit he goes to the bar to see if he can get his job back, the owner looks at him, smiles, and says, “Get back behind the bar pulling taps!”
Johnny replies with a smile, a nod and a, “Yes Sir!”
In the end everything works out fine, Tom and Johnny remain good friends, Johnny’s mother moves in with Johnny because your job did not pay enough to cover the rent and Johnny kept his job at the bar!


The end!

Great story. What a tradgedy dont blame him for wanting to kill them.
Nice ending though

Well written story, Great work

Thank you master, I didn't think it was good at all

Well I enjoyed reading it....

New one, been working on it a while, this is the beginning but has a total of 12k words.



Gunny, Sarge, Jackson, and me, William Buck, or as many
people call me “Bucky”. Were All members
of a special black ops team, “Red 1” Being as I just joined the veteran members
are showing me the ropes to the very unorthodox unit. I’ve been hearing were going to be sent to the
dangerous area of the western Russian border. An area known for its high
amounts of violence! Being as all the members of Red 1 are tall well-built
soldiers the U.S Government think were the right guys for the job.


Thanks to the brilliant men up in the Government of several
countries, Russia wants more oil for itself and less threats from its neighbors
the Russian Government proposed a treaty to limit German, French, Polish, and
Japanese military size to less than 500 thousand men. Needless to say the other
nations didn’t take to kindly to that idea and began massing troops on the
Red’s borders. Here is where we come in… A simple recon mission, well, it’s
supposed to be a simple mission to see if the Russians are massing troops on
the borders of its neighbors. Sarge, being the cocky leader he is thinks we
need to inflict some casualties on the Red’s while we are there.


The day is finally here! We are to be dropped in Poland 10
miles away from the border at 11pm by stealth black hawk choppers. As we ride
in the chopper Gunny looks at me, then looks at his M249 saw machine gun, “Kid,
follow us and do exactly as we say if it hits the fan. We don’t need you
getting killed doing recon…” He says with a raspy voice. The soft wisp of
helicopter blades through the air and the cold wind on my face as it came
through the open side door was helping keep my nerves cool. Alas, being my
first mission with black ops I am still nervous as could be. Holding my rifle
is difficult due to shaking, and my erratic breathing needs to be under control
by the time we land or I could give our position away to the enemy. As I look
out the open side door, I see the stars shining bright as if nothing was wrong,
as if they had no perception of what could happen. As I shift my gaze lower I
see city lights far in the distance and think about being home in bed and
asleep.


“Jackson! You better keep that grenade securely
in your hand or it’s gonna be somewhere you don’t want it to be!” Sarge bellows
out in a harsh ignorant tone. I quickly get out of my day dreaming and look
over at the two, because Jackson is a demolition expert he thinks he can do
whatever he wants. As I see him bending down to pick up a dropped grenade he
looks at Sarge and just grins.

Rocky, you showed good realism in this story.
But especially i noticed much improvement in your descriptive narrations.

Hope you will continue the story soon
you have a nice start to this i feel.

Thanks, Brian

We need more threads like this on Simmania
nice work

Hoowah!!!!!

Its good

Thanks, but guys... Get Real here, my writing isn't all that great. In fact, it sucks.

Well, it's intriguing. That's what I like about it.

Thanks Cheese, the entire story line to the one above:

WWIII has begun and a small team of black ops have been sent out to try and stop it, but quickly after their deployment they realize some things are very strange and will have to fight for survival in the Russian wilderness against many different things.

So far it has 12k words in total so too many to post here haha

Here is another little bit



“HQ, we have reached the border, Reds are 10 miles in Poland
and are massing for an assault, over.” Sarge says over the radio in a calm cool
voice, as if nothing in the world were to be bothering him. Me on the other
hand, well I was shaking like a leaf on
a tree, between the wet uniform from due and crossing the creek and so scared
if the Reds found us in the woods, just what would they do with us?


“Red 1, we are aware of the situation, they declared war on
Poland, Germany, France, and Finland as you touched down. Inflict as many
casualties as possible and make it to the extract zone at 0500 hours. Over.”
Command replies over the radio as it buzzes in all of our headsets.


“You heard him boys, move out, back to the top
of the ridge!” Sarge commands as we begin moving out towards the creek.

Nice continuation, rocky ,

brian