Bloodshed: Afganistan Part One

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
Corporal James Swansea, Lieutenant Warren Smith, voluntary Marine Chris Schulz, and Corporal Dean Sanders enter a world of war and bloodshed where their prime target are Afghan villages that have sided with the Taliban, whether by force or will. Their job is to wipe all of them out, but will they be able to survive?
***This book contains graphic material.***

Submitted: August 22, 2014

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Submitted: August 22, 2014

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Cpl. James E. Swansea ran across the battlefield and dove into the cover of a sea of bushes. His fellow soldier and buddy Lt. Warren F. Smith dove beside him. Seeing the tan color of the enemy uniform, Chris hefted his M-16 and gunned down the two Taliban with his sight.
"Nice shot." Lt. Smith commented on the kills.
"Eh, they were less than a hundred yards out. I've gotta get back on the training grounds to sharpen up or else I'll be demoted."
Lt. Smith laughed as he aimed his sniper rifle and fired, the bullet tearing through a Taliban's eyeball.
A message came through on Chris' walkie talkie. "Corporal Swansea, set device volume to four, I'm detecting at least twenty Taliban closing in on your position. Is Lieutenant Smith beside you?"
"Roger that on the order, and yes to the question." Swansea replied.
"All right. I'm sending a band of Marines to help you, but you've gotta name your position for them to find you."
James looked at his GPS attached to his combat belt. "Position is-"
A loud boom from a grenade interrupted the corporal. The Taliban were here, and they weren't happy.
"You ok, Corporal?" the voice on the other end asked.
"I'm all right, apart from twenty pissed-off Taliban members. I don't think I need the marines." James lowered his voice to a whisper as the Taliban moved closer. Switching walkie-talkie to off. Over and out."
Warren drew his 9mm Beretta and tossed James his Glock pistol. Chris nodded in thanks and switched the safety off, preparing to fire.
Warren mouthed the words, "On three." James nodded. "One," Warren mouthed. "Two." James aimed for the ass of a Taliban. "Three!"
James fired, and the wounded Taliban screamed in pain as the nineteen remaining Taliban jumped in surprise.
One Taliban with a thick mustache cried out. Warren sniped another member, the bullet cracking open his skull like a melon.
Another Taliban yelled in broken English, "Damm, I swear to God, American out to geet us! We haf to geet them before they geet us!" The rest of the group nodded in agreement. James switched the safety of the Glock pistol on, then hefted his M-16 and tapped Warren on the shoulder as he took out another Taliban, the one with the thick mustache, with the Beretta.

"Switch to standard weapons." James whispered to Warren over the fearful cries of the Taliban. Warren nodded, locked and loaded his sniper rifle, and waited for the signal from James. James gave a thumbs-up to Warren, and he fired a round that cleanly passed through the inner workings of two Taliban. 
"Five or six Taliban down?" Warren mouthed.
James held up four fingers.
"Damn! Ok, we have to do this fast or else we're screwed." Warren whispered. James nodded, hefting his M-16.
Just then, a Marine and a friend of Warren and James dove through the bush, capturing the attention of the Taliban. Chris Schulz the marine mouthed an apology. Thankfully, the Taliban took it as the movement of a wild animal and kept discussing tactics. 
Chris whispered with a tone for urgency. "We've gotta get back to Tampa-22 (referring to the base they were stationed on). It's being stormed by a horde of Taliban. There's a couple of Humvees with machine guns mounted on top, as well as a tank, not to mention about two hundred foot soldiers."
"Holy Jesus." James whispered. "Ok, let's make this quick."
The trio jumped up from the bush and opened fire, Chris being the first one to wipe out a Taliban member. Warren took cover, poking the barrel of his gun through the brush and took down another. James blasted through five Taliban in a row, shouting, "Five person kill streak!"
Chris shook his head, chuckling, as he drew his Beretta and killed the last Taliban.
"All right. Let's get back to Tampa-22." Chris threw his arm to James' left. 
James bent down and picked up a flamethrower. "Could use this." He said to Warren. James grinned.
"Shit, where'd you get that?!" Chris asked, jaw wide open.
"Poking through the corpses. Also picked up a Molotov cocktail."
"Whaddya know?" Chris said with glee. "Let's stock up!"

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later, the trio found themselves crouching near Tampa-22. It was in flames, but still salvageable. Chris cursed. "Damn, look at the shit the Taliban are causing us! Let's pay them back, shall we?" he grinned his evil grin.
"James, let me see your Molotov." Chris outstretched his arm towards James.
"Here, but what are you going to do with it? I was saving it for the tank." James said with a bit of wist. 
"Same purpose, my fellow comrade." Chris gripped the mouthof the Molotov. "You know I've got the best arm out of allthree. Would be a shame if you happened to miss." 
"All right, then." James reluctantly turned away.
"Let's move. Tampa-22 is waiting." Warren motioned.
The trio snuck up into a position where they could see the tank. Chris cocked his arm and threw the Molotov at the tank. It landed right underneath it. "Perfect." James heard Chris mutter.
A huge explosion charred the tank and overturned it onto its side, crushing and killing five Taliban that had been standing next to it.
James drew his Glock and took out the remainder of the forces next to the overturned tank.
Meanwhile, Chris and Warren had sprinted ahead and into Tampa-22. Cpl. Dean Sanders ran up to Warren and said, "Taliban forces have killed more than half of the soldiers stationed here! They're everywhere! So I brought you these!"
He then produced two Kevlar jackets.
"Wow, thanks a bunch, Dean." Warren shook Dean's hand. "Say, why not join our group? We've also got Corporal Swansea!" Warren offered.
"The more numerous we are, the better chance we have of winning this battle!" Dean smiled giddily and tossed a Kevlar jacket to James as he ran up. He did not look happy.
"There are Taliban forces chasing me and my scrambling ass, and you two abandon me?!" James cried out in indignation.
"Sorry, mate. We just wanted to get an early start on rescuing Tampa-22." Chris apologized.
"Say, Corporal Swansea, put on that Kevlar jacket before you become a voodoo doll for the Taliban to riddle with bullets!" Dean warned James.
"You're right." James agreed and put it on. Dean pulled his on as well.
The group of four sprinted down the corridor where the soldiers' bunks were. Anxiously, James poked his head through  the bunk of his combat buddy, Sam Yeats. Yeats' body was rotting in a pool of blood, his head split open by an axe. 
James' eyes welled up with tears. He knew the axe belonged to a local Afghan village that was a few miles away. That village was a threat to Tampa-22, since they assisted the Taliban in terms of melee weapons. They made axes, spears, and stone knives for the Taliban. Many of those weapons had killed countless numbers of American soldiers. James had found a new desire to burn down the village and kill every single person that lived in it.James, Warren, Chris, and Dean trudged across the thick brush of a mountain. They had just barely managed to save Tampa-22, and rid it of all Taliban. James had taken the axe that killed Sam and split open the heads of three Taliban like coconuts, shouting, "How does it feel, bitch?!"
Chris was the first to break the silence. "Dean, you've got the Molotov cocktails?"
"Hell yeah, I do. I'm ready to kick some wimpy villager ass." Dean pumped his fist in enthusiasm.
"Same here, I'm ready to avenge the blacksmith for forging the weapon that killed my friend." James seethed.
After ten minutes of marching in silence, they reached their target: a fairly industrialized village that had a few stone buildings, and even a bakery. They quickly dove into some bushes to avoid being spotted.
"Well I'll be damned. This place looks far harder to trash than I thought. Look over there." Warren pointed to the right. "Some of 'em got friggin' guns!" he exclaimed in terror.
And so it was. A couple of villagers guarded the biggest stone building.
"That big stone building must be the arsenal." Dean guessed.
"Then that'll be the first target." James pulled the pin off of a grenade and threw it.
"What the hell, man?! You're gonna blow our cover! That grenade says U.S. Army on it!!" Warren hissed. Chris nodded gravely just as a huge explosion rocked the ground.
"Too late, now. Let's get this party started." Dean grinned. He drew a 9mm Beretta and sniped a villager in the head. 
Chaos erupted in the village. The apparent family of the now dead villager screamed and wailed over his body. 
Warren, not so eager for sweet revenge, reluctantly threw a molotov cocktail that a circular hole about nine meters in diameter into the bakery, killing the baker and guards.
"Eat lead, motherfuckers!" Chris screamed, unleashing a hail of fury with his M-16. The gun rattled and its barrel started smoking as each bullet exited the magazine.
"Chris!" Dean yelled, sniping a female villager in the head.
"What?!" Chris yelled back,
"Your gun!" 
Chris looked down. "Oh, shit."
His M-16 was spitting sparks. 
"It's gonna blow!" James yelled. "Throw it at the villagers!"
Chris obliged, and soon enough, there was an explosion that contained enough force to blow a hole in a child's foot. He screamed in pain and went down as the hole started to bleed.
James and Dean ran into the fray, while Dean and Warren kept them covered by shooting any warriors that were threat to the duo. James hefted an axe and threw it like a tomahawk, landing between a warrior's legs.
"Daammn, that's gotta hurt!" Dean laughed as he shot three warriors. Just then, Taliban came storming out of the bushes, firing AR-15s. The duo was in trouble.
Calmly, James picked up a spear from a fallen warrior and threw it expertly, making a "fft" noise once it lodged inside the ribcage of a Taliban.
Back in the brush, Warren and Chris watched in horror as James and Dean were surrounded. Infuriated, Chris sprang up and sprayed lead bullets into the eyes of a Taliban, blinding him. 
"Nobody dares harm my comrades, bitches!" Chris screamed in utter fury, unleashing another spray of bullets.
Warren stayed in the brush, brandishing his sniper rifle and poking the barrel slightly outside the bush. He used his scope to take down a lanky villager that had been beating Dean with a wooden club.
Chris hefted a grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it onto a house. The explosion tore it to shreds and started a fire that quickly spread to the nearby houses. 
James and Dean, understanding that Chris wanted to blow the enemy apart with grenades, punched their captors with their free hands, and sprinted towards some nearby brush.
Livid, the Taliban leader sprinted towards the brush, but fell after Warren sniped him in the head.
Their forces significantly reduced, Warren drew his Glock pistol and blasted the remaining defenses apart.
James grinned and high-fived Chris and Warren. "Thanks, guys." he said sheepishly.
"No prob, now let's get the rest!" Chris let out a battle cry and blasted the head off a stranded female villager with an AR-15 he'd picked up from a fallen Taliban soldier.
"Better stock up. Use the dead Taliban people and the few villagers that had guns." James suggested.
"Good idea, Corporal Swansea." Warren said, then replaced his empty Glock cartridge with a new one. 
They all replaced their magazines and cartridges. James replaced his M-16 with dual 9mm Beretta pistols equipped with sight.
"This must've been forged. The frame is unusually long." James muttered. "Ah well, too late now."
"James, I don't think you should rely on dual Berettas. They're not even machine pistols like Glocks are!" Chris warned.
"You're right." James admitted, then replaced the pistols with an AR-15. 
"All right, scout the area and watch out for hostiles. Cpl.  Swansea and Cpl. Sanders will be a group, and Lt. Smith and I will be another group. Rendezvous point is at the gates of 

the village. We'll meet there in twenty minutes. Stay safe." Chris concluded.
James and Dean sprinted off towards the nearest untouched house. Dean kicked down the door while James covered him. They barged in and found a seven-year-old boy sitting in the middle of the floor sharpening an axe. When the boy saw the soldiers, he sprang up brandishing the axe and shouted in gibberish.
But Dean understood. "He's saying that if we don't get out of his house, he'll split our heads open!" Dean exclaimed.
"Ain't nobody got time for dat!" James yelled, drawing his Glock and shooting the boy three times in the head. "Sorry, guys." James apologized. "He was too much of a threat."

* * * * *
TO BE CONTINUED

 


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