Tải xuống ứng dụng
20% Pegasus Company / Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Easy Company
Pegasus Company Pegasus Company original

Pegasus Company

Tác giả: ladrad

© WebNovel

Chương 1: Chapter 1: Easy Company

The world lay shrouded in darkness. The sun had not yet hinted at its return, leaving the sky a canvas of deep, inky blackness. The stars twinkled like scattered diamonds, and the moon, in its luminous glory, cast a gentle glow, illuminating the night and its celestial companions. 

In a distant land, the darkness was thick and all-encompassing, broken only by the soft, eerie glow of the moon filtering through a veil of clouds. The vast expanse was dominated by towering walls, their silhouettes stark against the night sky. The base was a sprawling maze of shadows and muted lights, where the occasional flicker of movement hinted at a hidden world of intense activity.

The air was filled with the low hum of machinery and the distant, rhythmic thrum of engines. Massive structures loomed in the darkness, their shapes indiscernible but suggesting significant, unseen operations. High above, a solitary control tower stood, its windows illuminated by a persistent glow that hinted at a hive of controlled chaos within.

Runways stretched into the distance, their precise lighting marking them as crucial conduits of the base's operations. The distant roar of engines and the steady, purposeful movement of personnel created a symphony of organized activity. Occasionally, the silence was broken by the clatter of equipment or the murmur of hurried conversations over radios.

Hangars, vast and shadowy, held secrets behind their partially open doors, revealing only fleeting glimpses of the activity inside. The whole scene conveyed a sense of urgency and meticulous planning, the intricate ballet of preparation and readiness unfolding against the backdrop of the encroaching night.

As the hours passed and the veil of mystery began to lift, the true nature of the compound became clear. What had been an enigmatic and secretive hub of activity was, in fact, the Basa Air Base of the Philippine Air Force. Here, beneath the cover of darkness, the base buzzed with the preparations and operations crucial to national defense, its identity now revealed in the heart of the night.

Currently the base is buzzing with life, ignoring the quietness outside as it usually does. However, this time, the noises seem more unusual.

12/12/27

0300H

Basa Air Base, Floridablanca, Philippines

A man outfitted in a slick urban or i must say jungle-patterned camouflage, its design seemingly blending with environments of jungles and forest or even the grass, adorned with pockets in the chest space and might one call an insignia, that symbolizes where they are attached to. He walks with neither hurry nor relaxed pace to their barracks.

"Lieutenant!" a voice rang out, the single word stretching across the distance. It wasn't loud or forceful, but it had enough clarity to bridge the gap between them.

The man turned his head sharply, his eyes darting around to pinpoint the source of the sound. Amidst the shadows and dim lights, he spotted another figure clad in the same camouflage uniform, though with slight variations in the pattern and insignia. The other man's presence stood out as he moved deliberately through the haze of the early morning, his uniform catching the faint glimmer of the surrounding lights.

He halted mid-stride, his boots crunching softly on the gravel as he turned to face the approaching figure. The chill of the early morning air made his breath visible in small puffs. As he recognized the man's distinct silhouette against the muted light, he offered a nod of acknowledgment. "Oh, morning, Sergeant," he greeted, his voice carrying a blend of casual familiarity and professional respect. The dim light illuminated the Sergeant's face, revealing a tired yet alert expression.

The man who had called stepped forward and gave a sharp salute. "Sir Howard, all transport planes are cleared and ready. "Sir Howard, all transport planes are green, Command wants your platoon to be loaded immediately at 0325H" he conveyed, his tone steady and direct. The early morning light cast a serious expression on his face, reflecting the urgency of the orders.

Lt. Howard returned the salute with a sharp, deliberate motion, his face reflecting the early morning seriousness. "Alright, Sergeant, thanks for the update," he said, his voice steady and focused. Both men held their salutes for a brief moment, the crisp snap of their movements resonating in the quiet of the pre-dawn hours. As they lowered their arms simultaneously, the Lieutenant's gaze remained fixed on the Sergeant, acknowledging the importance of the message. The cool air seemed to amplify the sound of their boots shifting on the gravel as they resumed their positions, ready to proceed with their duties.

Both men went their separate ways, the Sergeant returning to his duties while Lt. Howard resumed his brisk pace. He made his way toward the armory with purpose, his footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. Once inside the armory, he navigated through the narrow hallways, each step measured and deliberate. The walls were lined with equipment and weaponry, dimly illuminated by the flickering overhead lights. Lt. Howard moved efficiently, heading straight for the area where his platoon was likely gathered. His focus was unwavering, each turn and corner bringing him closer to the heart of the action.

A man spotted the approaching higher NCO and immediately straightened up, his voice cutting through the murmur of the room. "Attennnhutt!" he barked. Instantly, the room fell into an abrupt and complete silence. The grunts and NCOs, caught mid-task, snapped to attention with disciplined precision. The rustling of gear and muted conversations ceased as every soldier assumed a rigid, upright stance, their eyes fixed forward in readiness.

The Lieutenant stood by the door, his gaze sweeping methodically from left to right as he assessed the room. With a commanding tone, he called out, "Alright, lads! Chop-chop! Get ready. The transports are green-lit. Assemble at the Assembly Area. We're heading out to tackle some uncontrolled fires, so make sure you're prepped for anything that comes our way!"

Lieutenant Howard's voice carried firmly across the room, cutting through the ambient noise of clanging gear and muffled conversations. The grunts and NCOs, momentarily paused in their tasks, responded with renewed focus. "As you were!" the Lieutenant added, signaling them to resume their preparations.

With a final nod and a smile, he turned on his heel and strode purposefully back through the hallway, heading outside to coordinate the next phase of their operation.

A man sat in a chair, methodically inspecting his camo uniform under the harsh fluorescent lights of the armory. His expression darkened as he noticed a tear in the fabric, revealing a patch of bare cloth underneath. "Ah, crap, there's a hole in my camo," Staff Sgt. Amaro muttered, his voice laced with frustration.

He frowned as he examined the damaged area more closely. The hole was situated near the knee of his uniform, frayed edges poking through the worn fabric. Amaro tugged at the material with a mix of irritation and disappointment, his hands deftly smoothing out the creases around the tear. The sight of the damage, combined with the stress of the upcoming operation, only added to his unease.

A man adjusted the top of his uniform with quick, practiced movements, smoothing out creases and ensuring everything was in place. He glanced over at Staff Sgt. Amaro, a grin spreading across his face as he shook his head. "It's the third damn time, Sarge," Cpl. Romolo said with a teasing tone. "Maybe you should check your locker. There might be holes in there big enough for a mouse to set up camp."

Romolo gestured toward Amaro's locker with a playful nudge. "You've got to stop leaving snacks in there. At this rate, you're going to have an entire rodent family living with you." His grin widened, adding a touch of levity to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

Staff Sgt. Amaro shot Romolo a sharp look, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, yeah, Romolo. Save the jokes for later. I've got a uniform to fix and no time for your stand-up routine. Just get ready for the mission."

He waved dismissively as he turned his attention back to his gear, effectively cutting off any further commentary from Romolo.

Sergeant Ricko, clad only in his lower half, let out a hearty chuckle as he watched the scene unfold. "Looks like he'll probably forget about it again," he said with a grin, shaking his head at Amaro's habitual clumsiness with his gear. "Classic Staff Sgt. Amaro—always something to laugh about when it comes to personal stuff."

Amaro, adjusting his uniform with a resigned sigh, shot back with a smirk, "Yeah, yeah, just keep laughing. I've heard enough from you already." He then turned away.

Specialist Raggy, meticulously adjusting the straps of his bulletproof vest, looked up from his task with a focused expression. His fingers deftly tightened the straps, ensuring a secure fit. The dim light of the armory cast shadows on his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes. 

"Hey, I heard there's a pretty strong chance we're going to switch to Plan B," Raggy remarked, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of anticipation. He glanced around, catching the eyes of a few nearby comrades who were also busy preparing their gear. The air in the armory was thick with the smell of leather and gun oil, mingling with the low hum of murmured conversations and the occasional clink of metal. 

Raggy's statement was met with various reactions—some with raised eyebrows, others with knowing nods, as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

Private First Class Raf, leaning casually against a stack of crates with a playful grin, commented, "Plan B doesn't sound bad at all." He chuckled lightly as he adjusted his helmet at a rakish angle and winked at his comrades. Raf's easygoing demeanor was a familiar sight, and he often used humor to lighten the mood.

His relaxed stance and playful attitude, while comforting to some, also made him a frequent target for friendly ribbing among his peers. He seemed almost too laid-back for the serious circumstances, and his habit of finding levity in tense situations was both endearing and amusing to those around him. His lighthearted comments and antics were a well-known part of his personality, often providing a brief respite from the otherwise intense and focused atmosphere..

Amaro stood in front of a large mirror, his reflection showing him striking various formal poses as he meticulously adjusted his uniform. With a critical eye, he smoothed out creases and ensured every detail was in place. The reflection revealed the seriousness in his face, tempered by a hint of camaraderie as he interacted with his fellow soldiers.

"Looks like we're gonna find out later," Staff Sgt. Amaro remarked with a hint of anticipation in his voice. He then turned to address Sergeant Ricko, who was still half-dressed and leisurely lounging. "And Ricko, for crying out loud, get your goddamn uniform on and be ready," he snapped with a mix of exasperation and humor. His tone was sharp but not unkind, indicating both urgency and a level of familiarity with Ricko's typical habits.

Inside the dimly lit barracks, the light bulbs above flickered intermittently, casting uneven patches of illumination across the room. The once-white walls were now scuffed and discolored, and the worn-out floor tiles creaked with every step. One of the overhead lights blinked erratically before finally going out, plunging part of the room into deeper shadow.

Staff Sergeant Amaro stood in the middle of the room, his frustration palpable. He glared up at the flickering bulb and muttered, "What the?! I swear to God they need to renovate these buildings! This place is falling apart."

Beside him, Sergeant Ricko adjusted his gear and glanced at the faulty light. "You're not wrong, Amaro. This place has seen better days. We're always fixing something."

Private First Class Raf, who was in the middle of organizing his gear, looked up and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, the last time we had a solid repair was, what, a couple of years ago? And even then, it was just a quick fix."

Specialist Raggy, standing near the window, peered outside as if hoping for a better view. "I wouldn't be surprised if the plumbing started acting up next. It's like they've been waiting for everything to break before doing anything about it."

Corporal Romolo, adjusting the straps of his bulletproof vest, shook his head. "It's always something with these old buildings. You'd think with the amount of money we spend on military equipment and upgrades, they'd at least keep the basics in decent shape."

Amaro threw his hands up in exasperation. "Exactly! For a country that spends a ton of money on military hardware and new technologies, you'd think they'd invest a bit more in maintaining our living quarters. I mean, come on, we're out here doing high-stakes missions, and the place where we sleep is a mess."

The room's atmosphere lightened slightly as everyone shared a knowing chuckle. Despite the grim situation, the camaraderie and shared frustrations provided a brief moment of relief from the tension.

As they continued their preparations, the flickering light served as a constant reminder of the less glamorous side of military life, yet their shared humor and solidarity kept their spirits high.

0325H

Basa Air Base, Floridablanca, Philippines

Assembly Area

A man in a high-ranking green military uniform ascended the stage, his face set in a stern expression. Standing before the speech podium, he faced a company of men clad in green camo and tactical gear, their appearance both imposing and intimidating.

He cleared his throat to garner attention, "Good morning ladies and gentlemen, Today, we face a critical mission. Our objective is clear, and every one of you has a crucial role to play. We've trained hard for this moment, and I have full confidence in each of your abilities. Remember your training, trust in your teammates, and stay focused.

The Major's speech was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, loud ring that sliced through the room's tense silence. Heads turned in unison as everyone, including the Major, searched for the source of the intrusive sound.

The Executive Officer, caught off guard, hastily fumbled through his pockets and pulled out his ringing phone. With an apologetic expression, he held it up and said, "I'm sorry, Major. It's an urgent call." He quickly gestured toward the phone's screen, which displayed an incoming call. The Major, his expression shifting to one of annoyance and concern.

The Major sighed and nodded and continued his speech "This operation is vital not just for our success, but for the safety and security of others. We're a team, and we succeed together. If you have any doubts or questions, now is the time to speak up.

Let's stay sharp, stay together, and execute our plan with precision. You've got this." As the Major wrapped up his speech, the Executive Officer quickly approached him, his face etched with urgency. Leaning in close, he whispered urgently into the Major's ear, "Sir, Command has just informed us that we're switching to Plan B."

The Major's face tightened in a mixture of frustration and resolve. He sighed deeply, nodding in acknowledgment of the new orders. With a quick adjustment of his stance, he turned back to address the assembled troops.

The Major returned his head to face the men again, "Alright everyone, we are switching to Plan B. I know we trained and practiced a lot for both of the plans, so we expect at least the same expected results. DISMISSED!" As the Major concluded his speech, the soldiers in front of him snapped to attention, their movements synchronized and precise. They rendered a sharp salute, their eyes locked on their superior with disciplined focus. The Major returned the salute with equal precision, his expression a blend of authority and reassurance.

As the Major stepped off the stage, the room erupted in a flurry of activity. Orders rang out with urgent clarity, cutting through the organized chaos. "Alright, final gear checks!" bellowed one officer, his voice commanding attention. "First Platoon, on me!" he continued, rallying his men. "Second Platoon, on me!" echoed another officer, while the call for the "Third Platoon, gather up!" followed closely behind. Platoon leaders quickly assembled their respective units, meticulously conducting final inspections. Soldiers adjusted their gear, double-checked their weapons, and ensured their equipment was secure, all while preparing to move out. The intensity and urgency of the moment were palpable, setting the tone for the operations ahead.

On the airstrip, the rumble of jet engines grew louder as multiple fighter jets, including the formidable F-15E Strike Eagle and the versatile F-16 Block 70/72, were lined up along the taxiway. Their sleek forms glinted under the floodlights as they prepared for takeoff. Behind them, an array of drones—Hermes 900 and RQ-7 Shadows—awaited their turn, poised for reconnaissance missions.

Simultaneously, on the ramp, six C-130J Super Hercules stood ready, their engines idling in anticipation. The massive cargo planes were fully prepped, their engines throbbing with power as they awaited the arrival of their loads. The scene was a blend of precision and urgency, 

Inside one of the C-130J Super Hercules, the interior was bathed in the soft glow of dim lighting, which flickered intermittently as the aircraft was being prepared for takeoff. The air was filled with the low hum of engines and the shuffling of personnel as they completed their pre-flight checks.

Lt. Howard, seated near the center of the cabin, moved with a practiced ease as he checked his equipment. His presence was calming, his demeanor one of focused authority mixed with a touch of camaraderie. He leaned slightly to his right to address his platoon, his voice firm but friendly.

"Make sure everything's secured and ready to go before we land. We don't need any last-minute surprises," he said, his gaze sweeping across the seated soldiers.

Staff Sgt. Amaro, the 1st Squad Leader, sat with his back straight, methodically checking and rechecking his gear. His attention to detail was evident as he adjusted straps and buckles with practiced precision. "Everyone, make sure your equipment is properly stowed. We don't want anything bouncing around during the drop," he instructed, his voice carrying a note of authority.

Private First Class Jacky, a rifleman, was seated cross-legged, adjusting his weapon. He glanced around with a smirk. "Got it, Sergeant. Everything's locked and loaded. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to a bit of downtime back at base." His tone was light, but his eyes remained sharp.

Nearby, Sergeant Ricko, the 1st Fireteam Leader, relaxed against the side of the cabin, his gear neatly arranged beside him. "Yeah, this beats the hell out of office duty. At least we're out here doing what we're trained for," he said, his voice laced with a hint of humor as he chuckled.

Private First Class Homer, the automatic rifleman, was seated with his legs stretched out, adjusting his weapon with focused attention. "True that. Let's just make sure we keep the enemy's head down while we're at it," he replied, his voice steady but carrying a note of determination.

Private Paddy, the grenadier, checked his gear with a focused demeanor. He adjusted his grenade pouches and tightened his harness. "We've faced tough situations before. This is just another mission. I'm more concerned about what's waiting for us," he said, his tone serious.

Cpl. Romolo, the 2nd Fireteam Leader, leaned back in his seat, his gear meticulously arranged around him. He offered a reassuring nod. "We've got this. We're prepared for anything. Besides, it's not our first rodeo," he said, his voice calm and steady.

Specialist Raggy, the combat medic for the 1st Squad's 1st Team, was seated with his medical kit open, checking supplies with practiced efficiency. "Just hope we won't need too much of this stuff, but it's better to be overprepared," he said, his tone practical.

Private First Class Raf, the automatic rifleman from the 1st Squad's 1st Team, leaned forward slightly, his gear neatly arranged. He added with a chuckle, "If the enemy's got any sense, they'll be making a run for it. We're ready for whatever."

Private First Class Robert, the grenadier, and Private Isaac, another rifleman, exchanged a few words while seated next to each other. Robert adjusted his gear, saying, "Let's hope we can wrap this up quickly." Isaac, seated with his rifle across his lap, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'm ready to get this done."

A soldier from another squad, known for his humor, stretched his legs and grinned. "I'm just hoping we don't run into anything too crazy. We're all set to handle whatever comes our way," he said, his tone light-hearted.

Another soldier, quick with a quip, leaned against the cabin wall and added, "Yeah, and if anyone's looking for a memorable experience, this mission will definitely provide it." His voice carried a mix of humor and anticipation.

The cabin filled with laughter as the squads shared a moment of levity. Lt. Howard, taking note of the camaraderie, leaned in to address the entire group. He stood up, moving smoothly despite the cramped space, and spoke with an encouraging tone.

"Seriously, this is why we train. We're prepared for this mission, and we'll face it with the same dedication and spirit we always do," he said, his gaze steady and reassuring.

Private Jacky, sitting with his back against the cabin wall, nodded in agreement. "We're ready, sir. We've got this," he said, his tone confident.

Howard's smile grew wider as he looked around at his platoon. "That's what I like to hear. We'll tackle this mission head-on, together."

As the C-130J continued its flight, the shared jokes and Lt. Howard's encouraging words fostered a sense of unity and resolve among the soldiers. Their collective spirit and readiness transformed the tension of the impending mission into a moment of camaraderie and mutual support.

A man seated near the center of the aircraft, clad in a standard airborne uniform and gear, leaned back in his seat. His face was partially illuminated by a small overhead light, casting a focused expression as he reviewed the mission details. He spoke aloud, his voice reverberating gently in the confined space of the aircraft.

"For Plan B," he began, his tone measured and deliberate, "our primary objective is to secure all exit routes of hostile elements within the eastern sector of San Lorenzo Forest. Easy Company will deploy as the advance party to establish defensive positions, ensuring initial coverage until the Armored and Infantry divisions arrive to consolidate our defense perimeter."

He continued, his gaze fixed on a set of operational maps spread out before him, "Able and Baker Companies will secure the West and North sectors, while Dog and Charlie Companies handle the southern sector. Once our defensive groundwork is laid, the Air Force will execute precision airstrikes against enemy encampments."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly as he went over the details. "Following these strikes, we'll have a 15-minute window to intercept any enemy forces attempting to escape. Afterward, we'll initiate clearing operations with Air Force support, utilizing assets such as the A-10 Thunderbolt II 'Warthog,' T-129 ATAK, and AH-64 Apache, supported by reconnaissance from RQ-7 Shadows and Hermes 900 drones."

He leaned back in his seat, allowing himself a moment to absorb the magnitude of the operation. "This plan is designed to ensure comprehensive control over the operational area, neutralize enemy threats effectively, and secure our objectives with minimal risk to our forces."

With a final nod to himself, he closed the operational map and prepared for the imminent mission, his mind sharp and focused on the tasks ahead.

The man beside him, leaning casually against a nearby seat, looked over with a teasing grin. "Why'd you lay out the whole plan like that?" Sgt. Ricko asked, his voice laced with amusement. "You nervous or something?" He chuckled, the playful tone contrasting with the seriousness of their mission.

He turned his head to Ricko, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just a little bit," Staff Sgt. Amaro replied, his voice steady despite the hint of nerves.

Both men shared a look, with Ricko chuckling warmly. "Well, it's normal to be a bit nervous, especially considering you've been doing this for six years now. HAHAHA, you'd think you'd be used to it by now. But look at you, still as jittery as ever!" Ricko laughed, shaking his head as he glanced down at the floor. Amaro smirked, the camaraderie easing his tension.

Everyone nearby couldn't help but smile and chuckle, the lighthearted moment bringing a brief respite from the tension. The shared laughter and camaraderie among the troops helped to lift their spirits, creating a sense of unity and easing the nervous energy before the mission..

"Up, up, and away we go!" the pilot of the C-130J announced with a confident grin. The aircraft's engines roared to life, and the plane began to taxi toward the runway, ready to embark on its mission.

To be continued…


SUY NGHĨ CỦA NGƯỜI SÁNG TẠO
ladrad ladrad

Please don't hesitate to critic and comments about any mistakes i did(grammar,military stuff, etc.)

next chapter

Chương 2: Chapter 2: Bombs away

0410H

Approaching San Lorenzo Forest, Philippines

Six C-130J Super Hercules aircraft flew in formation through the night, their silhouettes barely discernible in the darkness. The moon provided the only light, but thick clouds shrouded the planes, rendering them invisible from the ground. The hum of the engines was a constant backdrop, creating a steady rhythm that mirrored the soldiers' racing hearts.

Inside the aircraft, the dim red lights cast eerie shadows across the interior. Soldiers sat shoulder to shoulder on the metal benches, their gear securely strapped to their bodies. The air was thick with the scent of oil, sweat, and anticipation. Conversations were low and serious, occasionally punctuated by nervous laughter as they prepared for the operation.

"Three mikes out from LZ!" the Jumpmaster yelled, his voice slicing through the drone of the engines. The announcement spurred a burst of activity within the aircraft, the soldiers checking and rechecking their gear.

Lieutenant Howard stood, gripping a handhold to steady himself as the aircraft hit a pocket of turbulence. "Alright, everyone, final checks!" he barked, his tone firm yet encouraging. Moving down the line, he ensured each soldier was ready.

Staff Sergeant Amaro tightened the straps on his gear, his eyes locked on the task at hand. "You heard the Lieutenant! Get your heads in the game!"

Sergeant Ricko, seated next to Private First Class Homer, gave him a rough pat on the shoulder. "Stay sharp, Homer. We're gonna need you to lay down some serious firepower."

Private Homer nodded, a grin forming. "Don't worry, sarge. I got your back."

Private Paddy, checking his grenades, glanced at Private First Class Jacky, who was securing his rifle. "Let's not screw this up, Jacky. I don't want to be picking up your slack out there."

Jacky laughed, though his focus remained on his weapon. "No chance, Paddy. I'll cover your ass."

Specialist Raggy did a final check of his medical supplies, his fingers moving quickly over each item. "Raf, stick close. If you get hit, I'm not dragging you back."

Private Raf chuckled, adjusting his gear. "You just make sure you're close enough to patch me up, Raggy."

Corporal Romolo yelled at his fire team, a grin splitting his face. "Keep your eyes open and your sectors covered!"

Private Isaac nodded sharply. "Got it, Corporal. No one's screwing up on my watch."

The hum of the engines grew louder as the aircraft began its descent, and the vibrations intensified.

Lieutenant Howard took his place near the door, his eyes scanning his platoon. "This is it, team. Let's get in there and show them what we're made of."

The aircraft shuddered slightly as it neared the landing zone, and the Jumpmaster moved to the door, ready to open it. "Two mikes!" he shouted.

The soldiers, now standing, adjusted their gear and tightened their grips on their weapons. The tension was thick, but so was their resolve. Each one was ready, mentally and physically prepared for what lay ahead.

The Jumpmaster's hand hovered over the door release. "One mike! Get ready!"

As the countdown reached its final moments, the soldiers braced themselves, their faces set in determined grimaces. The C-130J Super Hercules continued its descent, bringing them closer to their objective, and the next crucial phase of their mission.

"30 SECONDS!" as the jumpmaster exclaimed, all units stood up and faced the direction of the jump door.

Howard nodded at his men, a small smile playing on his lips. "Let's get this done. And remember, stay sharp."

Private Paddy smirked, nudging Jacky. "Ready to show these guys what we're made of?"

Jacky grinned back. "You know it, Paddy. Let's give 'em hell."

Sergeant Ricko glanced at Homer again. "You better not jam up on me out there."

Homer chuckled, slapping his rifle. "This baby's good to go."

Staff Sergeant Amaro looked over his squad, satisfaction evident in his eyes. "Let's do this, boys. No one gets left behind."

"STAND BY!"

"GREEN LIGHT! GO! GO! GO!" The red light inside the plane switched to green, casting a brief, eerie glow over the cabin. The roar of the engines and the cold rush of wind greeted each soldier as they approached the open door, their faces set with determination. One by one, they leaped into the night sky, vanishing into the darkness below. The jumpmaster, a seasoned veteran, watched each unit depart with a steely gaze, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. As the last soldier disappeared into the void, the jumpmaster took a final breath and stepped into the rushing air, melding into the night with the mission ahead.

"Here I goooo" The jumpmaster followed suit.

Upon landing in the LZ, soldiers swiftly secured their parachutes to prevent dragging, gathered and stowed them in designated bags. They promptly retrieved and secured their weapons and equipment. The platoon, having secured their gear, they immediately established perimeter security around the LZ to deter hostile threats by spreading to provide overwatch. Subsequently, they moved to the pre-designated rally point near the forest entrance, forming up by squads and platoons for accountability and awaiting further orders. During this phase, they conducted final gear checks to ensure readiness for the next phase of operations.

Upon landing in the LZ, soldiers quickly detached their parachutes, ensuring they were not dragged by the gusting wind. They expertly folded and stowed them in designated bags, each movement precise and practiced. Weapons were retrieved from their harnesses and checked for readiness, while equipment was secured and adjusted. With their gear in order, the platoon swiftly moved into position, establishing a defensive perimeter around the LZ. Teams spread out in a coordinated fashion, with fire teams covering sectors to provide overlapping fields of fire and comprehensive overwatch.

Lt. Howard conducted a brief radio check to ensure communication lines were clear and that every unit was accounted for. With perimeter security firmly in place, Staff Sgt. Amaro, the 1st Squad Leader, directed his squad to advance to the pre-designated rally point near the forest entrance. Movement was precise and deliberate, with Sergeant Ricko, the 1st Fire Team Leader, keeping his team in line, including Private First Class Jacky, the rifleman, Private First Class Homer, the automatic rifleman, and Private Paddy, the grenadier.

Cpl. Romolo, the 2nd Fire Team Leader, led his team through the terrain with equal care, accompanied by Specialist Raggy, the combat medic, Private First Class Raf, the automatic rifleman, Private First Class Robert, the grenadier, and Private Isaac, the rifleman. Upon reaching the rally point, the platoon formed up by squads and platoons. Lt. Howard oversaw the assembly while squad leaders conducted headcounts and checked for any missing or injured personnel. Final gear checks were thorough, with each soldier ensuring that their equipment was functional and secured.

"Alright, Platoons! To your designated sectors NOW!" the Company Commander yelled, cutting through the focused silence.

"1st Platoon to Middle Sector Bravo!" Lt. Howard announced, directing his unit with authority.

"2nd Platoon to Upper Sector Bravo!" an unnamed platoon leader called out.

"3rd Platoon to Lower Sector Bravo!" another unnamed platoon leader commanded.

The soldiers snapped into action, moving swiftly and purposefully to their assigned sectors.

Each platoon swiftly established a defensive perimeter, focusing their efforts on fortifying positions against the dense forest that bordered their location. Heavy machine guns were strategically emplaced to cover the treeline, providing a broad and overlapping field of fire to guard against any potential enemy advances from the shadows of the forest. Sniper teams took up positions in elevated areas, their scopes trained on the treeline to detect any movement among the trees.

Soldiers worked diligently to construct sandbag fortifications, creating protective cover oriented towards the forest. They utilized the natural terrain, stacking sandbags around large, sturdy stones and fallen logs for additional cover. The dense woods were also exploited, with soldiers positioning themselves behind trees and using the forest's natural cover to obscure their positions and improve concealment.

Anti-tank positions were established with precision, focusing on defending against armored vehicles used by enemy insurgents. Anti-tank weapons were strategically positioned at key points to cover potential routes through the forest. These positions were set up quickly but effectively, aimed at ensuring any enemy vehicles that approached from the forest would face significant resistance.

Robust communication networks were set up using radios, enabling constant coordination with the incoming armor and infantry reinforcements. Squad leaders and platoon commanders relayed critical updates, ensuring that all soldiers were informed of their roles and the evolving situation.

Despite the thorough defensive setup, there was growing concern about the delay of the armored and infantry reinforcements. The anticipated support had yet to arrive, and the soldiers remained on high alert, maintaining their defensive positions against the forest as they awaited the crucial reinforcements that were running late.

Staff Sgt. Amaro remained at his designated position along the defensive perimeter, his irritation barely concealed. He stood with a rigid posture, eyes constantly darting towards the dense forest as if willing the reinforcements to emerge. The weight of his gear and the stifling heat did little to lessen his mounting frustration.

He adjusted his helmet with a swift motion, trying to keep his focus sharp. Every few moments, he glanced over at the radio operator stationed nearby, hoping for any sign of communication from the delayed armor and infantry. When no new messages came through, his frustration grew more evident. His jaw tightened, and his fingers drummed impatiently on the stock of his rifle.

"Where the hell is the Armor and Infantry?!" Staff Sgt. Amaro muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl of exasperation. He turned abruptly to the radio operator, his irritation unmistakable.

"Hey, any chance you could check in and ask for an ETA on those reinforcements?" Staff Sgt. Amaro asked, his tone friendly but laced with a hint of impatience. "We could really use an update right about now."

The operator nodded quickly, shifting to adjust the radio's frequency and initiate contact. Staff Sgt. Amaro resumed his watch, eyes scanning the forest edge with renewed urgency. Despite his frustration, he knew that maintaining his position and readiness was crucial, even as the delay of the reinforcements gnawed at him.

Staff Sgt. Amaro stood at his position along the defensive perimeter, his gaze constantly scanning the forest. Despite his frustration, he tried to keep his tone calm as he addressed Cpl. Romolo and Sgt. Ricko, who approached him in turn.

Cpl. Romolo, maintaining his own defensive stance, looked over with a reassuring nod. "Well relax, don't worry they will show up anytime now" he said, his voice steady but empathetic. He continued to scan the treeline, his eyes reflecting the same vigilance he encouraged in Amaro.

Sgt. Ricko, nearby and still keeping an eye on his own sector, furrowed his brow in curiosity. "Yeah, anyway, why are you always irritable these days?" he asked, his tone more conversational than confrontational. His gaze flickered briefly from the forest to Amaro, searching for some insight into his squad leader's changed demeanor.

the conversation was abruptly interrupted by the sharp crackle of a modern walkie-talkie. The radio operator, holding a sleek, compact walkie-talkie, quickly adjusted the channel and pressed the transmit button with a firm click.

The operator's voice burst through the radio's speaker, clear and authoritative. "Attention all units! Reinforcements' ETA is four mikes out. I repeat, four mikes out

Amaro looked at the radio operator with a brief, appreciative nod. "Four mikes, got it," he said, his tone now tinged with renewed patience."

Amaro let out a sigh and looked back, his frustration back evident but his response tempered with a trace of understanding. "Well, who wouldn't? It's just been one of those days, you know? Things aren't lining up like we planned, When their own paycheck is delayed till next month, things don't go in my way these days, in addition, this situation right now, this delay" His voice held a mixture of weariness and acceptance, reflecting the strain of the situation

At that moment, Specialist Raggy, stationed nearby and overhearing the exchange, chimed in with a knowing look. "Oh, that's rough, but at least you didn't have to wait for three months like I did," he said, his tone laced with a hint of shared experience. Raggy's face showed a face of sympathy, reflecting his understanding of the frustrations involved.

"Three months???" Amaro uttered in shock, his voice rising slightly. "Wait, you waited three months for your paycheck??? Must've been a good feeling," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcastic astonishment. His eyes were wide with disbelief, and his brows were raised high. The sardonic smile on his face accentuated the incredulity in his voice, highlighting the contrast between his current frustration and the seemingly excessive length of time Raggy described.

"What?!" Raggy shot back, his voice carrying an edge of exasperated amusement. His eyes widened in mock disbelief, and he threw his hands up in a dramatic gesture, as if to say, *Seriously?* His expression was a mix of irritation and begrudging humor, the annoyance punctuated by a smirk that suggested he found Amaro's sarcastic comment more irritatingly funny than anything else.

As PFC Raf's voice rang out, "Ah, here they are," the entire crew instinctively turned their heads. Their eyes quickly settled on the open field behind them, where the approaching shadows of vehicles began to materialize. The silhouettes of the armored vehicles emerged from the horizon, moving steadily across the expansive field.

The low, throaty rumble of the engines reverberated through the open terrain, gradually growing louder. The vehicles' headlights cut through the twilight, casting sweeping beams of light across the field and illuminating the dust that kicked up from the churned earth. The convoy's movement was deliberate, the mechanical clanking and occasional bursts of engine noise punctuating the stillness of the area.

As the vehicles closed in, the sight of their approaching forms brought a palpable sense of relief and renewed energy to the soldiers. The massive shadows of the armored units loomed larger, signaling the arrival of much-needed reinforcements and sparking a wave of focused anticipation among the crew.

As PFC Raf's voice rang out, "Ah, here they are," the entire crew turned their attention to the open field behind them. The shadows of vehicles advanced purposefully toward their positions, a testament to the urgency of the situation. Clouds of smoke and dust billowed up from the churned earth, trailing behind the convoy and signaling the intense pace of their arrival.

The convoy was a formidable sight. Main battle tanks led the charge, their silhouettes unmistakable against the horizon: the M1A2 Abrams SEPv3, its angular form exuding raw power; the M1A2 P Heavy Abrams, bristling with formidable armor; the Leopard 2A7, known for its sleek design and formidable weaponry; and the Leopard 2AP, its advanced armor catching the fading light. Light battle tanks followed, including the Sabrah ASCOD II and Pandur II, their more nimble designs contrasting with the heavier tanks.

Armored Personnel Carriers (APCs) joined the ranks, such as the IVECO Guarani, with its rugged build; the different variants of the Stryker, adaptable and reliable; the M113 FSV, with its classic form; the AIFV, versatile and well-armored; the FMC M113 IFV, and the GKN FS100 Simba 4x4, known for its durability. The Bradley IFVs, with their distinctive profile, added to the robust lineup.

Trailing behind were the Light Tactical Vehicles: the AM General HMMWV, the Liberato 4x4, and the Heavy Armored Liberato 4x4, providing essential support and mobility.

All these vehicles were part of the Armored "Pambato" Division and Infantry "Cobra" Division, strategically positioned to cover both the eastern and southern sectors of the red zone.

The tanks began to maneuver into their designated defensive positions, meticulously prepared and reserved by the advancing party earlier. The ground, heavily scarred from their approach, settled as the massive vehicles aligned themselves with precision. Their engines idled softly, the rumbling vibrations adding a low-frequency hum to the ambient noise of the field.

The main battle tanks, such as the M1A2 Abrams SEPv3 and Leopard 2A7, took their places behind the fortifications of sandbags and natural cover, their massive frames partially obscured by the defensive barriers. The tanks' powerful turrets slowly swiveled to face potential threats, their cannons trained on the treeline and open fields.

Simultaneously, the other vehicles began to dismount their infantry. Soldiers spilled out from the APCs and IFVs, including the Bradley IFVs and IVECO Guarani, moving with practiced efficiency. They spread out to take up positions behind the newly constructed defenses, using every available piece of cover. Some found shelter behind the vehicles themselves, while others took advantage of natural terrain features like rocks and trees, as well as the sandbag fortifications.

The infantry established their defensive lines with deliberate precision, setting up machine guns and sniper positions for overwatch. They quickly fortified their positions with additional sandbags and utilized the natural terrain to enhance their cover. The soldiers worked seamlessly, their movements coordinated and focused, ensuring that every avenue of approach was covered.

As the last of the vehicles completed their positioning, the field was transformed into a well-organized defensive stronghold. The combination of armored vehicles and dismounted infantry created a layered defense.

Lt. Howard greeted the arriving division commanders with a wry smile. "Nice of you to have finally joined us," he said jokingly, his tone light but carrying a hint of genuine relief. He stood with his hands on his hips, his posture relaxed yet authoritative.

The Armor Division Commander, Allen, responded with a chuckle. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever," he said with a smile, brushing off the jest with good-natured humor. He adjusted his gear and glanced around at the defensive setup, then began moving towards his vehicle.

Scott, the Infantry Division Commander, shook his head with a hint of exasperation. "Well, turns out there were still a lot of civvies awake at this time," he said, referring to the traffic jam they had encountered. He gestured towards the field where the traffic jam had occurred, his hands expressing a mix of frustration and amusement.

"Well, we have to go now," Allen said, shifting to a more businesslike tone. "Gotta meet up with someone." He nodded towards the upper Sector Bravo, just to the right of where Howard's platoon had established their defensive position. He turned and began to walk purposefully in that direction, heading towards the meeting point with the company commander.

"Sure, sure, go ahead now," Howard responded with a teasing edge. "He's waiting for you—you might get an earful though, Hahahaha." He chuckled and waved them off, his friendly grin reflecting the light-heartedness of the moment.

Both Allen and Scott smiled at Howard's comment. "Whatever," they replied in unison, their expressions a mix of amusement and readiness. Allen and Scott quickened their pace, heading towards their vehicles with determined strides. They climbed in and started moving towards Sector Bravo, their vehicles kicking up dust as they made their way to the upper sector. With a final wave, they set off.

As the final orders were given and the last adjustments were made, the soldiers settled into their positions, their movements methodical and deliberate. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as they remained vigilant, their eyes scanning the distant treelines and open fields for any sign of movement, particularly enemy patrols.

The defensive positions were meticulously camouflaged, blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. Sandbags were covered with dirt and foliage, and any exposed equipment was draped with camouflage netting to reduce visibility. Soldiers carefully arranged rocks and branches to mask their positions further, creating a natural look that melded with the terrain.

The faint rustling of leaves and the distant calls of wildlife provided a deceptive calm, but the soldiers remained alert, their senses finely tuned to detect any subtle disturbances. Every now and then, a soldier would adjust a piece of cover or shift slightly to ensure that their position remained as hidden as possible.

As they waited, the occasional whisper of a wind and the distant hum of engines from the arriving reinforcements were the only sounds that punctuated the stillness. Each soldier maintained a focused, almost breathless watchfulness, their attention fixed on the horizon and the dense forest ahead.

PFC Raf, his voice barely above a whisper, turned to his squad. "When will they be here?" he asked, his eyes scanning the darkened horizon and the darkened skies, straining to pierce through the encroaching night.

"Two mikes out," Staff Sgt. Amaro replied in a low, measured tone, his voice carrying the assurance of someone well-acquainted with the precise timing of operations or so he previously thought. He glanced at his watch, then at the faint glow of the distant horizon, indicating that the arrival was imminent.

"Make sure your NVGs are on now," Amaro instructed, his tone leaving no room for error. His hand gestured to the night vision goggles hanging around his helmet, the green glow of his own NVGs casting a soft, eerie light on his eyes.

"Aye, Sir," came the uniform reply from his squad, their voices subdued but resolute. One by one, they adjusted their NVGs, the lenses clicking into place with a soft snap. The night vision goggles cast a greenish tint over their eyes, transforming the darkened landscape into a spectrum of shades and shadows.

0435H

Malacañang Palace, Manila, Philippines

Situation Room

The room was shrouded in darkness, with only one side illuminated by the faint glow of a large rectangular screen. The screen displayed a live feed from a drone hovering over the operation zone, its high-resolution imagery revealing the exact locations of enemy camps with striking clarity. The stark contrast of the screen's light cast long shadows across the room.

Sitting in the center of the room, positioned prominently at the head of a large table, was a man in his 40s. His expression was stern, eyes fixed intently on the screen as he absorbed the detailed visuals of the operation zone.

Flanking him were two men in their 30s and 40s. Both wore expressions of concern, their brows furrowed in concentration. They exchanged occasional glances, their worry evident as they followed the drone feed with keen interest. Their similar, stern looks suggested they were deeply invested in the operation's outcome, sharing the weight of responsibility for the mission's success.

The dim light from the screen painted their faces in shades of blue and green, adding to the overall tension of the scene. The quiet hum of the drone's feed was the only sound, punctuating the charged silence as they continued to monitor the enemy positions closely.

"When will the first strike start?" the man in the center inquired, his voice steady. His gaze remained fixed on the drone feed, the stern set of his jaw reflecting his focus.

"In exactly 2 minutes, Mr. President," the man in the green military uniform responded, his voice clipped and precise. He sat beside the table, his uniform impeccably neat, with insignia and medals reflecting the dim light from the screen.

"I see," Mr. President said, blinking as he turned his attention back to the big screen. The light from the screen illuminated his face, casting a sharp contrast against the darkness of the room. His gaze remained fixed on the drone feed.

0437H

San Lorenzo Forest Airspace, Philippines

High above the dense canopy of San Lorenzo Forest, a fleet of sleek, grey drones patrolled the skies with ghostly precision. Their streamlined, angular bodies, painted in muted shades of grey, moved with near-silent efficiency. These drones, designed for maximum stealth, hovered inconspicuously as they relayed real-time data, their presence unnoticed by enemy forces below.

The distant rumble of jet engines grew louder as the powerful F-15 E Strike Eagles approached. Their imposing grey frames cut through the sky, still closing in on the target area. The jets, equipped with advanced weaponry and optimized for high-speed engagements, made their way steadily toward their objective.

The tension was palpable as the drone operator's voice broke through the comms. "Agila 1-2, Owl 3 is airborne and positioning over the target area. Standing by for target data," he announced. "Owl 3" codenamed one of the stealthy drones now providing crucial surveillance, while the F-15 E Strike Eagles, designated "Agila 1-2," continued their approach, preparing to strike with pinpoint accuracy once they received the necessary information.

Multiple F-15 E Strike Eagles cruised steadily toward the targeted area, their grey silhouettes cutting through the sky. The engines' deep rumble underscored their approach, a reminder of the overwhelming firepower they carried.

"Copy, Owl 3. We're en route," came the response over the radio. The Weapon Systems Officer, codenamed Agila 2, spoke with calm authority. "Please provide initial visual on the target." His request, transmitted clearly over the comms, was a crucial step in confirming the exact location and layout of the target area as the jets continued their approach.

"Owl 3, we're receiving your video feed," Agila 2, the Weapon Systems Officer of an F-15 E Strike Eagle, stated as the drone's imagery appeared on his display. "Can you confirm target coordinates?" His voice, steady and focused, sought confirmation as the jet continued its approach.

.

"Affirmative, Agila 2. Target is confirmed at Grid 12-34-56. No changes in target status," the Drone Operator responded, his voice calm. The coordinates were relayed with precision, ensuring that the F-15 E Strike Eagles would have the accurate information needed.

1 mike out

"Owl 3, we're seeing the target. Can you mark it with a laser for precise guidance?" Agila 2 requested, his tone focused. The request was crucial for ensuring the accuracy of the impending strike, as the laser mark would provide the exact location needed for the F-15 E Strike Eagles to engage effectively.

"Roger that, marking target now," the Drone Operator, codenamed Owl 3, responded promptly. The drone's laser targeting system activated, projecting an accurate beam onto the designated target area to ensure that the F-1 E Strike Eagles would have accurate guidance for their strike.

"Agila 1, Owl 3 has confirmed the target and is marking it. Setting up for laser-guided bombs." conveyed to the pilot codenamed Agila 1 by Agila 2 the WSO.

"Agila 2, ensure we're configured for LGBs and check the target lock," Agila 1 directed.

"Agila 1, we're good to go. LGB Paveway II are armed and the targeting system is locked onto the laser mark," Agila 2 replied, his voice confident and steady.

"Agila 1, we're approaching the target. Adjust heading 10 degrees right for optimal lock." Agila 2 ordered.

"Adjusting now. Locking on target." Agila 1 followed.

Agila 2 announced "Bombs away in 3, 2, 1... releasing."

To be continued...

----------------------------

If you are wondering why there are non-existent vehicles it's because it's made by non-existent companies called Pathfinder Heavy Industries, Pathfinder Systems, and there are more, they will be introduced later on. 

Thank you for reading, don't hesitate to comment on what you think about this chapter and if there are any mistakes i did about military stuff.


Load failed, please RETRY

Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần

Đặt mua hàng loạt

Mục lục

Cài đặt hiển thị

Nền

Phông

Kích thước

Việc quản lý bình luận chương

Viết đánh giá Trạng thái đọc: C1
Không đăng được. Vui lòng thử lại
  • Chất lượng bài viết
  • Tính ổn định của các bản cập nhật
  • Phát triển câu chuyện
  • Thiết kế nhân vật
  • Bối cảnh thế giới

Tổng điểm 0.0

Đánh giá được đăng thành công! Đọc thêm đánh giá
Bình chọn với Đá sức mạnh
Rank 200+ Bảng xếp hạng PS
Stone 0 Power Stone
Báo cáo nội dung không phù hợp
lỗi Mẹo

Báo cáo hành động bất lương

Chú thích đoạn văn

Đăng nhập

tip bình luận đoạn văn

Tính năng bình luận đoạn văn hiện đã có trên Web! Di chuyển chuột qua bất kỳ đoạn nào và nhấp vào biểu tượng để thêm nhận xét của bạn.

Ngoài ra, bạn luôn có thể tắt / bật nó trong Cài đặt.

ĐÃ NHẬN ĐƯỢC