Don't you fear me? – a The Unit Fan fiction

PRESENT

%%% TO DOG PATCH AT 1310C

%%% DOC REPORTS %%% BOMB MATERIAL %%% %%% %%% PACKAGE PROBABLY AT %%% %%% %%% THREAT %%% %%% OPFOR %%%% %%%% CALLED %%%% %%% %%% %%% LOCALS %%%% %%% %%% %%% %%% LOST %%%% %%% FOLLOWING A LEAD %%%

…"Damn it…" Sergeant Major Jonas Blane, the leader of this operation, spilled out. Not this way, not here and not again. He was too young. But asking the why was a hopeless task as only the cold wind would answer him right now. 'Stopped asking that question many years ago. You can't change what's done.

"Hey, watch that rear, we're moving out in one. " Jonas alerted the other men while kneeling down to get closer to the body before him. He carefully slid down the eyelids of the young man. I'm sorry, my friend. Jonas took a last glance at the pale face, and then grabbed the Scorpion Full-Automatic that had been hidden behind the brown coat of the man, dropping it into his bag.

You were one of the good guys and only reached half of my age. Good people keep dying, and the bad ones keep coming. We'll get them, and pay them back in kind…

Just when he stood up and was about to take his modified Czech VZ-58 back from his shoulder, he slipped for a moment. "Hold on for another, let me have a look this".

"You got it top, no movement here" Sergeant Charles Grey let Jonas know.

Jonas took a closer look at what had caught his attention. No papers, no notes and probably no microchip planted sub dermal beneath the hand. Could it be that lighter?

Jonas took out the lighter of the young man's coats lower right pocket. Its metal was glancing even with the few spots of the sun that were still watching this side of the Earth. With its last strength the sun touched the wooden fence by the path, creating shadowy illusions that were trying to fight the few sunrays that made it through. Grey couldn't help it: "You know, if I look at that, I can't describe it… Boss, I need to write it down, while the memory is still fresh."

"I can cover little Romeo's sector, Boss." Bob Brown suggested. "Ok, get it written, Betty Blue. If you don't speed up I'll think about that new call sign that though." Grey got down to a crouching position and reached out for a small piece of paper and a pencil. After a small time of reconciliation he wrote down several lines, still scanning the north-eastern direction at regular intervals.

Meanwhile, Jonas finally found what he was looking for: "I got it, move up. We're done here".

Jonas opened a channel: "Snake Doc to Dog Patch, the Christmas presents are secure. Santa didn't make it."

6 HOURS EARLIER TO PRESENT

SNAKE DOC TO DOG PATCH AT 0610C

SNAKE DOC REPORTS THAT TEAM ALPHA SUCCESFULLY TRANSPORTED TO %%% %%% AND HAS ARRIVED AT %%% (SOUTH OF %%%) AT 0600C. INITIAL CONTACT HAS BEEN MADE AS PER MISSION PARAMETERS. COVER AS MILITARY ADIVSORS TO THE LOCAL FORCES HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED. ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT WAS DROPPED AT 0620 BY FLIGHT VALKYRIE AND HAS BEEN SECURED BY DIRT DIVER AT COORDINATES %%%.

"…so if you take that rifle butt and kick it right here, you don't have to worry about using a knife. Don't bother grabbing a knife because a knife may end the story with you killing yourself if you don't know what'ya doing. I know these M16 rifles don't allow freely adjusting the butt for the slim corners, but if you take them a little to your side…"

"Sergeant Ron Daniels!" a young recruit reported to the bearded instructor, Charles Grey. "I was handed this message to send to you." "Thank you, corporal. Dismissed!" The young soldier saluted and turned away in a not so perfect 180°-turn.

Now, if he'd done that a little quicker he might as well have hit the dirt. Hurray for a proper formal service. But, to be fair, these guys sure do it better than in A-Stan. One out of 20 guys can do jumping jack over there. No, these recruits are good of heart and willing to learn. And you would have to worry less if they would turn on you the minute you offered them your back.

Ron Daniels. Couldn't they've gone for Jack Daniels? Charlie shook his head off.

Sometime Later…

In a small room that probably had seen better days, Jonas Blane, Charles Grey and Bob Brown were sitting and waiting for the last member of the team to arrive.

Mack Gerhardt came in through the door. After getting the door shut with his right foot, he looked the man infront of him in the eye: "All right, 'Lieutenant Fields', so what's the weather saying? I hear a storm is coming?"

Jonas flexed his hands behind his head. At the far side of the room Charlie was sitting, cleaning his shoes. As for Bob Brown, he seemed like to have something on his mind, thinking heavily. "Dog Patch just called. We have new INTEL on one of the bomb suppliers." Jonas said while leaning forward again and clasping his hands together.

"How good is the intel, top?" Mack let out with a sigh.

Too many guys are dead because of 'intel', the damn intel that's done by some lazy government desk jobs working half shifts and putting feet high table for the most time. We should send these guys down sometime; let them experience war first-hand… maybe they'll learn. More likely not…

"It's close, Mack. One of the locals of the nearby village called it in. His father is one of the LTs-soon-to-be we're training in here."

Mack wasn't giving up easily: "Family didn't count much on the places we visited so far"

"Trust has to start somewhere, bro." Grey offered diplomatically. "These guys are all right. We just have to point them in the proper direction."

5 HOURS EARLIER TO PRESENT

SNAKE DOC TO DOG PATCH AT 0712C

SNAKE DOC REPORTS THAT NEW INTEL HAS BEEN RECEIVED AT %%%. TEAM ALPHA ON ROUTE TO VILLAGE OF VSHONJE TO INSPECT INTEL. WILL ARRIVE IN APPROX 30 MINUTES. MOVING ON FOOT.

"So, why we didn't take the car?" Grey asked while stepping over another root. Mack answered challenging: "Cause we got to work on your fitness, Betty Blue. When was the last time you outran me in the hills back in the grounds?"

"What?", Charlie shot back, "The time that you shortcut the second round by jumping over the stream? Yeah, I remember that." Mack answered as smug as he could get: "Does it really matter? Guess who was the winner that day."

Only several seconds later Jonas raised a hand. Instantly everyone got down to crouch. "Movement, up ahead. Directly infront of us, 300 yards." Jonas gave out whispering. "Dirt Diver, take the right by 80', Betty Blue on the left. Cool Breeze, you got our back by 30."

The other members hand-signaled that they understood their orders. Jonas would advance on the target while Mack and Charlie would flank it from right and left. Bob would have to cover all their backs.

AT THE SAME TIME, AT THE 303rd LOGISTICAL STUDIES UNIT

"Careful, watch that bowl up there, it's about to fall off!" Tiffy Gerhardt said in a hysterical tone. It was the tone a mother would use when her child were to reach out with stretched arms for a glass in a cupboard - while standing at a chair on her tiptoe - .

But this time, Tiffy wasn't talking to her girls. She was addressing Hector Williams or Hammerhead as he was called on the missions, missions that never existed. 'In Reality' Hector and the other members were working 40 hours a week in the offices of the 303rd Logistical Studies Unit. That would probably be a pretty boring job.

"There's no problem, ma'am. I got it under control. The moment it'll fall down it'll gently slip into my hands. We'll have that piece of a wardrobe moved in no time, safe and secure."

"If you say so, soldier." Tiffy said in an amused way. "But I'll better leave, I can't see this, not without worrying further."

Collecting his strength, Hector prepared to move the furniture further. Well, Tiffy wasn't kidding. This thing really packs a punch. I remember carrying and running around with the tree trunks during last training and that was definitely easier! Mack surely owed him a beer for this one.

After some more hard work the wardrobe was finally in its place. Hector went into the living room and stretched over his head with his hand. "Okay, all done. And there wasn't even any damage to that bowl" Hector stated while grinning. "It was pretty close though".

Tiffy answered in return "Ah, thank you, Hector. Mack was evading this for some weeks, and now it's finally done!"

"No problem, ma'am. We all stand together. I'll go to the HQ now; the Colonel had something to talk about. See you" Hector said.

"Ah, all right. Thanks again, Hector. I'll pick up Lizzy from school." Ah, my Colonel. Which reminds me I want to speak with you, too. The usual place? Or should we go for something different? Mack won't be back for long, right? There's plenty of time…

BACK IN %%%, NEAR THE VILLAGE OF VSHONJE

Crrk. Crssht. As much as Mack Gerhardt tried to muffle his steps, with the small branches hidden below all the autumn leaves, it always gave a small sound away. Small enough to be heard by some wild animal, but not by a man. Mack advanced further, ducking behind trees and bushes. He wouldn't have to wait for long to see his target.

Jonas moved up some yards again. It was only a small distance – he'd ran distances way larger than this for sure – but with a possible contact, maybe even a sniper, waiting for them, he couldn't take any chances. One too hasty movement or loud sound and it would have been over for him in an instant. Jonas was now only one third of the distance left where he saw the movement. He looked through the Russian scope that had been mounted at his weapon, but didn't spot anything other than leaves and trunks.

The team was dressed up in woodlander clothes and eastern bloc weapons to blend in more with the enviroment, but everyone had a silenced MK23 pistol hidden as backup.

Crsssht. There it was, only a stone's throw away. But Jonas didn't see anything. Damn, must have slipped into those trees. He looked to his right and left, trying to spot Mack or Charlie. They're hidden well, just as they were trained to. Too close to the possible contact for using the radio, Jonas chose to switch to his pistol. Another Crkssht, close by.

Marching soldier, patrolling his perimeter? Jonas leaned in and looked the contact directly into the eye. He froze in the movement, and so did the target.