Sign on the Dotted Line

Private First Class Adrian Harvey lands in the rolling hills of Eastern Poland to fight off the Russian invaders. Due to certain circumstances, he is asked to take on a "special" job....

The light blinded me as the doors swung open. The stench of death hit my nose; I reacted with a jolt backwards. The smell now filled my nostrils as the light faded away and my vision returned. In the distance, we could see the troopers fighting on the hillsides as the planes flew overhead across the morning sky. I ran down the ramp as I pulled my goggles down over my eyes and adjusted my earpiece. My rifle in hand, I followed the rest of my squad as we jogged down the hill from the cramped APC. Three howitzer rounds hit the hill a few feet ahead, sending the ones closest into the sky, aflame, and us farther back flying onto the ground from the shock. A boot landed next to me, with the man’s socked foot still inside. I rolled off my back and onto my feet. I looked to my left to see an overturned Humvee. I began to sprint towards it as men crossed my path, most of them being shot. I slid on the ground and into the side of the jeep, machine gun rounds bouncing off the bumper and splattering against the dirt.

  An enemy helicopter came flying towards us, guns and missiles blazing. A soldier slid next to me and set up his rocket launcher. He flipped up the crosshair and pulled the trigger. A line of smoke erupted from the back and front of the launcher. The rocket flew and hit the underbelly of the chopper. With a loud explosion, debris came flying all around the fields. A propeller slammed into the hood of an APC, stopping it dead in its tracks. The main part of the chopper came sliding across the ground towards my position. I ducked in the nick of time, an open door barely missing my head as I rolled from behind the Humvee. My friend’s body splattered against the helicopter’s windshield. My sight was cloudy due to the dust flying around from the crash. I looked around frantically for cover as the hiss of bullets echoed around me. I tripped over something and I dropped my gun. I looked at my foot.

   I had tripped over my brothers head, as it lay covered in blood and muddy sand. I nearly threw up but the tears came first. The dust cleared in time for me to move out of the way of a Humvee as it drove by, the canvas hood ablaze. I looked back towards the hills to see a wave of troops running towards us, men with riot shields leading the charge. Rows and rows of debris provided cover for us as we took defensive positions. I aimed down my gun sights.  Through my ACOG scope, the enemies were clearer. They became dark shapes running through the dust as blades of grass twisted around in the flow of the air.

  A man ran into my crosshairs and I opened fire. I used a three round burst on him. Three M4 rounds plowed into his chest. He fell to the ground as another man replaced him in my sights. I fired at his head, missing. The soldier dropped to the ground in a prone position, his AK aimed towards me. He fired at me. His bullet shot through my scope and ricocheted out the top. I winced at the shards of glass and plastic hitting my cheeks. I fell back onto my a*s. A voice through my earpiece spoke into my ear.

  “Bravo, this is Wolf Den. Change in plans. Hold the line till the Iron Sides arrive. I repeat, hold points Alfa, Bravo, and Foxtrot. Keep the Ruskies at bay, Wolf Den out.”

  The order was clear and simple, a soldier’s favorite kind of order. I stood up and fired towards the advancing troops. My clip went dry and I reached for another one. When I brought my head up to fire again, a Russian trooper was lunging at me with his bayoneted AK. I reacted just in time to move out the direct path of the blade. The knife cut through my sleeve and dug into the flesh of my left arm. In the same motion of me moving, I brought the stock of my rifle up and into his forehead, knocking him the ground. I leaned over the jeep and fired into his downed body.