Lieutenant Wade, a pale looking officer, moved from the cockpit into the main passenger area. He thrust a map into Sergeant Black’s hands and shouted into the sergeant’s ear. He looked at it for a moment before nodding and passing the map back to him, saying a few words. The Lieutenant moved back to the front of the craft, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the marines.
Sergeant Black continued his explanation to the men.
“The plan has changed, we’re no longer on a logistical mission, this is now a combat operation and you will hit the ground running. Make sure your gear is ready, we hit the ground in sixty seconds!”
A chorus of ‘Ooh-rah’ echoed through the noisy interior. The marines grabbed their weapons, each checking their ammunition and equipment. The marines, as always were well equipped for most tasks. Between them they carried a significant amount of rifles and machineguns, as well as grenade launcher attachments and grenades. There was little they couldn’t handle. The First Sergeant continued.
“We’ll be landing half a click from the south of the town. Our mission is to secure the main access to the town from the south and then to hump down to the forward base and establish a foothold. Once we’ve taken it we’ll evacuate any wounded and reinforce the position prior to the arrival of additional ANA units,” said Sergeant Black.
The interior warning lights came on, indicating that the unit would be landing shortly. The massive engines on the short, stubby wings groaned as they changed position. The rotors were currently forward facing, just like the engines in an aircraft like a C130 Hercules. As the motors moved though they changed configuration until the V22 looked more like a conventional helicopter.
From the small window Torres could see the dusty ground as the aircraft swooped down in its standard landing pattern. This procedure was the most dangerous part of their trip as they were slower and most vulnerable as they lowered down to the ground. Unlike other aircraft such as helicopters the Osprey used a more automated landing procedure that made touchdown more predictable. On top of this the Osprey needed much more space than an equivalent helicopter to land, making potential landing zones more obvious to the enemy. The end result was that the marines wanted to get out as quickly as possible.
As the ground rushed upwards, Torres found his visibility was ruined by a huge cloud of dust. This was one problem that so far hadn’t been solved. Because of the two massive rotors and the immense downdraft the V-22 Osprey created a huge dust cloud that surrounded the craft upon landing. This was known as brownout and was the problem responsible for three out of four helicopter crashes and losses in Afghanistan. The downside was that the men could see almost nothing upon leaving, the upside was that it created a smokescreen for their arrival.
With a thud the Osprey hit the ground, sliding a few feet forwards, the undercarriage compressed, taking the impact on the hard, dry soil and cushioning the landing. In seconds the tail ramp dropped down, exposing the men to the elements. Lowering his goggles the Sergeant was the first out, signalling to the rest of the men to follow him. It didn’t take long, none of the marines wanted to stay a moment longer in a lightly armoured aircraft that was kicking up a cloud that could be seen for miles in every direction. As the men left the Osprey they moved back about thirty metres to take cover behind the rocks and cover nearby. The aircraft took off almost as soon as the last man left. The downdraft was massive and blew sand and dust over the men as they sheltered.
The second Osprey came in low, looking like a futuristic drop ship from a science fiction movie. It hit the ground and quickly disgorged its marines nearby giving a total of forty two men, a full, combat ready Marine rifle platoon. The platoon consisted of three rifle squads each led by a sergeant. With single hand signal the three NCO’s responded to First Lieutenant Wade and split up, the three squads moving out to secure the landing area. The unit was a short distance from the town, a slightly raised position within the remnants of a few low broken walls and barbed wire marking the perimeter. In the previous campaigns this had actually been a forward base, now it was simply a convenient resupply position that usually housed a handful of ANA soldiers. As the marines spread out it was clear that it was missing any sign of the soldiers. Near the northern perimeter was a small blockhouse that was used as a shelter for the guards. The 1st Squad was already in position and in sections stormed the room and the area around it to find the place deserted. Sergeant Weathers moved in first, followed by one of his riflemen. There was a sound of equipment being kicked around before he returned, moving up to the Lieutenant.
“Sir, no sign of them. Their weapons are still here and the communication equipment is on, but not transmitting,” he said.
Lieutenant Wade signalled to the leaders of the other two squads, calling them over.
“Ok, uh, I want 1st Squad to stay here with me,” he looked around at what was left of the compound, “we need to make this defensible in case of any attempt to re-take it.”
Sergeants Black and Weathers exchanged knowing looks. Their confidence in the officer was at an all time low. Luckily the Marine Corps placed great emphasis on its NCO’s and their ability to command. This was something that had been a tradition right back to the island hopping campaigns in the Pacific back in World War II.
The Lieutenant, looking nervous continued with his orders, looking first at Sergeant Black.
“We need to secure this point and co-ordinate the relief of the town.”
He waved his arm, pointing at the abandoned base.
“Weathers, I want 1st Squad to setup a defensive perimeter around this LZ. Get the heavy weapons set up and establish a command post in there,” he pointed to the small blockhouse.
The sergeant saluted and then moved back, shouting out to his men. In just seconds the men from 1st Squad were busy preparing the position. Lieutenant Wade seemed to forget what he was doing for a moment, looking around the old site. Whatever he was thinking, it certainly wasn’t inspiring confidence in the men. Sergeant Black stepped closer, drawing attention to himself.
“Sir!” he called.
The Lieutenant turned back to face the NCO, the realisation that he needed to do more than just dig a hole and hide possibly kicking in. Wade paused and then seemed to regain his composure.
“Sergeant Black, I want you take 2nd Squad and advance to the bazaar. I need to know what has happened in the town,” he said.
Sergeant Black looked confused.
“What about 3rd Squad, Sir? I could do with the manpower. We’ve got no intel on the area and no idea what might be there,” he said.
He tried to make it sound like a suggestion rather than the obvious way it should be done, but it was difficult for him to hide the derision he had for the officer. It was his job to keep his marines alive and combat ready.
“I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle, Sergeant. Get to it! I’ve got other things to do.”
Mathews, an experienced NCO in his own right interrupted.
“I agree with Sergeant Black, Sir. Sending just one squad into the bazaar could be risky. If we send in...”
He was stopped by Wade raising his hand.
“Look, I have a job for 3rd Squad. Just get your men ready and tell me when you’ve secured the bazaar.”
He turned away, an obvious signal that he’d finished his discussion with the men. Sergeant Black saluted and then turned to his men to get them ready.
“I have a special mission for you Mathews. Apparently the last reports said something about fighting near the supply compound here,” said Wade.
He pointed to his map, showing him the location of the site that appeared about half way into the town and probably five hundred metres from the bazaar.
The sergeant scratched his chin in confusion.
“I don’t understand, Sir. The bazaar is not far away, wouldn’t it be more efficient to secure the compound first with 2nd Squad and then sweep into the bazaar once we have a central position to operate from,” he said, almost pleading.
“No, Sergeant, that is not helpful. We’re marines and I want both objectives taken before the rest of the unit arrives. This is our mission and we deserve the credit for securing the town.”
“But Sir, it’s not a race, my men...” he said.
“Sergeant! You will secure the compound and keep me informed, that is all!” he shouted.
Sergeant Mathews saluted, knowing full well that the discussion was over and that this mission had just taken a deadly turn for the worse. He spotted Sergeant Black about to leave and made his way discretely over to the man. Black spotted him and paused for a moment, so they could speak.
“This is shit,” said Black, “I’m not sending my men into an ambush. Wade is an assfuck!”
Mathews smiled, “I agree. He wants me to take the compound first.”
Sergeant Black examined his map. He traced two lines with hands, leading from their landing zone and out to the two objectives.
“I don’t understand this, we could easily support each other and take both locations, one after the other,” he said.
Sergeant Mathews considered the situation. He looked around, noticing the Lieutenant was already chasing the men of 1st Squad to set up his base of operations. He’d come up with a simple solution.
“Wade is too busy building his little empire here, I suggest we split up as ordered, but I’ll radio in that the route is blocked,” he suggested.
Black knew exactly what he was getting at, “Yeah, then you can move through these alleys and will be forced to take the same route as us.”
“Exactly,” answered Mathews, “we’ll still be following orders and the mission is still the same.”
“Same, apart from it not being a shit plan!” said Black grinning.
“Let’s do this!”
The two squads moved out from the compound and down the hill. They made a special effort to maintain two separate columns, one for each of the squads as they entered the outer suburbs of the town.
Nawzad was a small town of probably ten thousand inhabitants. Most had fled after the fighting between the Taliban and the British sometime before. Since the marines had provided extra manpower they had forced the enemy out and life was slowly returning to the place. It was still much more sparsely populated than before, intelligence suggested that no more than four thousand people remained. The town itself consisted of a well known bazaar that was used by many of the outlying towns and villages. Through the centre ran the main road, and a maze of mud-brick houses and compounds, interspersed with narrow alleys. It was hardly a thriving metropolis, but in the new Afghanistan it was a start, and it was their job to make it stay that way.
Through this main street moved 2nd Squad. Sergeant Black had split the three fire teams across the street with half of the men moving down what he would consider the sidewalks, keeping close to the low buildings and looking for any potential threats. Experience had shown him that moving out in the open in this country made you both easy to spot and also easy to shoot at.
Overhead the sound of the two Ospreys could be heard. They were heading away and with them gone they had no immediate way to leave the place or to move quickly. Black thought to himself that Wade had better not have fucked them over.
“We’re on the main highway, so far no hostiles spotted. Route is clear, over,” he whispered into the headset.
The Ospreys were now both clear of the men and started their return trip to collect more men and supplies for the operation. With the craft moving away the visibility down the main street improved.
As the squad moved into the outskirts of the town they were surprised to see it looking very different to the reconnaissance photographs they’d studied the night before. Rather than being the bustling small town in the images it looked instead as though there had been a small war fought in the last few hours. The main street was littered with vehicles, some of them crashed, others abandoned and some still burning. What was even worse though was the amount of bodies.
“The situation is not good. There are bodies everywhere, looks like there’s been major action. Over,” he said, listening for a response.
“Sir, I advise we get aerial reconnaissance ASAP. We need to know what’s ahead. Based on the number of bodies something big happened here,” he said.
There was a pause before the voice of a frustrated Wade appeared in his ear.
“Sergeant, I’m not interested in a few bodies. This is Afghanistan, it’s always the same. Stop dawdling and get to the bazaar!” said the annoying voice on the radio.
“Understood,” replied Black.
He threw down his hand in resignation and then continued down the road. He swore to himself, his indignation at being spoken to like a child was bad enough, but in this country these kinds of petty arguments costs his squad lives. After moving a few more blocks ahead he stopped at the worst scene of carnage so far. A small truck had been abandoned in the middle of a crossroads and around it were crashed cars and bodies. It looked as though there had been some kind of battle in this part of the town, especially where the vehicles were, groups of bodies were formed up almost like a large circle.
Torres spoke quietly to the Sergeant, “You know what this reminds me of?”
Sergeant Black moved around one of the cars, examining the bodies thrown up against it.
“What’s that Torres?” he asked.
“It looks like one of those fifties films, you know the ones where the Ancients were fighting with swords. Look at the bodies, it’s like a last stand or something,” said Torres.
Sergeant Black scanned the area, it was weird, but Torres might be onto something. The bodies were strange, it did look like they’d been killed trying to defend a position in the street. Then it dawned on him.
“Fuck. It’s a barricade!” he called.
Torres thought he heard something and moved off to the right, checking under the truck whilst Fernanda climbed up the side and looked inside, spotting bodies.
“Sir!” she called.
Sergeant Black moved up and called over, “What is it, Corporal?”