|BF3 Life in War
Author: Unguided PM
Follow David Gortchavez throughout the Russo-American war. Through ups and downs, good health and dire injury everything will be documented.Rated: Fiction T - English - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,219 - Updated: 05-09-12 - Published: 04-19-12 - id: 8040556
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N Long time since I posted the first chapter so it's about time I updated. So here it is chapter 2 and a shout out to Bloodmark Mentor for his help in my dilemma between 3rd and 1st person. I realise that there may be a few transferrals between 3rd and 1st person in the first chapter I apologise but I want this book to be about me succeeding in becoming a better writer so I will leave all mistakes in on purpose and if you point them out to me it helps me realise what I can build on. In the first chapter a short sentence was missing see if you find where it should have gone. "" that's the quote you get the right place then you get a cookie.(::) Also David is a lieutenant not a sergeant you'll see why later on. Many thanks Unguided.
Chapter 2: Ivran
Ivran wasn't having a good day he had lost a member of his squad and the other two were injured. Instead of falling back to be extracted with the rest of his squad he tagged along to replace Charlie squad's sniper who had unfortunately ran into some angry civilians and had been held up. Ivran himself didn't believe the Americans and Brits had the manpower and ability to respond so quickly. "Trust GRU and all other Russian intelligence services to feed us shit intel," Ivran said to himself. Ivran cursed his luck and continued his train of thought. The RAF was doing carrier training with the French and the British regiment transferring into Germany, then the airborne unit and air wing stationed at Ramstein was the cherry on top. Concentrating on the hallway which had funnelled so many hapless Americans into his sight as opposed to 10 minutes ago the hallway was dead and ghostly stained with the blood of many Americans and Russians alike. "Give it two years and all this will be forgotten and their resting places will be trampled like so many before them," murmured Ivran so everyone on the open channel could here. Even the Americans.
"A little philosophical for my liking or was it just to indicate were no longer the red menace we used to be," laughed Ramkov Charlie's squad leader. "Just keep focused, the transports will be here in five."
"Copy," was simply Ivran's reply. To him this amount of death could have been averted if the GRU had sent their team of men. Well if they had planned to send any it was still rumours and probably would be forever. But no 2000 airborne would get it done. We did it we got the nuke back and it had already been sent back to Russia but all calls for a cease fire had been ignored. By us of course. Now we were using civilian jets to get us out of Paris which we had entered scarcely 5 hours ago. He couldn't go on the first convoy which would drive him 28 km to Charles de Gualle airport. So he was stuck with the second one to pass through this area. Charlie brigade along with Charlie squad was next to be picked up, or so he hoped. Walking would have been suicide so he was playing the waiting game. Ivran again scanned his QBU-88 and its 4 x magnifier site on the stained and rubble covered hallway for his nemesis. He found them the boonie wearing figure that had pulled his last victim to safety. But as opposed to the normal trace and shoot which had forced Ivran to duck and dodged so many times, they ran to the centre dodging the 3 bullets he put down range and reaching the centre pillar. Ivran cursed himself for not being prepared and taking down his prey when it was exposed this would haunt him later on surely. Shrugging off the recoil of his gun he placed his magnified sight dead centre of the pillar distorting the very edges of his vision. Another bad decision among his others, suddenly two tanks of a human if they could be called human burst from the edge of where the boonie wearing figure had emerged seconds earlier. Before he had a chance to shift his gun they started opening fire. The sound pierced the silence a knife would the skin, skittish form the sudden thunder of bullets, he dodged left behind the wall next to the window, realising the tanks would guess where he was hiding and trap him with bursts of fire or simply riddle his back with steaming hot copper, he dropped to the floor. The ammo vest he was wearing didn't favour any of those forced to drop to the ground winding him and a sudden crack. "Fuck," growled Ivran, turning his head to check if any of his mags were broken but was met with a different sight. The fabric of his urban camouflaged was torn and about an inch down from his shoulder blood slowly bubbled out of the wound. Instead of being instilled with the panic which he had faced when he gained his first battle scar his body simply relayed the need for adrenalin and fast. Almost simultaneously he regained a response from his right arm with very little pain.
Turning to face the opposite side of his face was immediately peppered with splintered wood. He pulled his goggles down, then immediately set off crawling to the other side of the room while 7.62mm bullets whizzed overhead impacting and pelting him with shavings and debris. The hounding wave of death stopped and Ivran picked his chance and stood up to run around the almost semi-circle apartment. Simultaneously with his first step he heard two putffs and the sour feeling of being chased down by grenades, halfway into the second half of the semi-circle apartment the first m320 round impacted where he had once been sniping the second passed behind him impacting on the wall three metres away from him it propelled him into the hall way. The smell of feet, alcohol and what was most likely sick insulted his nose and he instantly scrunched it up in disgust. Ivran now feeling tired and oddly comfy where he lay after the explosion he strained himself to plod down the stairs allowing his boots to hit the concrete steps with all his weight. Reaching for his radio he let out a sigh with all of the fight knocked out of him he considered whether the Americans would take prisoners, but that thought could wait until he checked if Ramkov was alive.
"Charlie 3-1 this is Charlie 3-4, respond over," stated Ivran into his radio allowing his thick Russian accented voice bounce around the stairs to the landing. He took three more steps, no return, two more steps then he heard clicking.
"Drop the weapon, walk outside, stand face against the wall, arms on your head," demanded a voice. Ivran was happy to oblige it was better than 'get ready to die mother fucker'.
In response in his best English he shouted back "I'm coming out just don't shoot me," he was greeted with what was a more pleasing sight, if it could be said in that context. Rather than being Americans it was labelled so plainly to see on their shoulder. The 5th Rifles, atleast it was the Brits he wouldn't deal with the shit that the Americans would give him. Just before being forced into a wall he caught sight of Ramkov and the rest of Charlie squad faces against the side of a Scimitar AFV which was accompanied with a single warrior, 2 vectors and a single Spartan. Inside of the semicircle of the vehicles were those of the extraction team. Then he was faced with brick which was radiating a days heat back into his face.