Thorn 7- Man O' Mist
The three of them stood next to a small stone table. Eli was fidgeting with a small, hand-held radio, and Ethan was staring intently at a set of plans laid out in dark ink, silently guiding Eli along on whatever he was doing.
"Alan, about time," Seller called out, passing me an aluminum rod about the size of a beef jerky stick with a smooth, metal ball at the top. "Hold this for me."
I opened my mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. She was staring intently at the wires on the radio as Eli messed around with it.
What the hell are they doing? I thought, holding the metal rod forward.
"Okay, rod," Eli said, stretching his hand out for it while putting the wires back inside. I quickly passed it to him and watched as he slammed it into a small hole at the top of the black box.
A slight buzz came from the radio, before a loud screech came through, and then finally, a woman's voice came over it. He fixed the radio, in the middle of an almost thousand-year-old castle, with nothing more than his hands and a tiny screwdriver. Natural talents have it easy.
I was about to ask why they needed it fixed when Eli turned up the volume, and everyone in the courtyard froze.
"Reporting live from the White House, the President has officially issued a statement regarding the war that has broken out in Europe. At three twenty-seven pm, Eastern Standard Time, World War 3 has been announced."
Ethan leaned forward, stretching closer to the radio, his face covered in a sheet of white. Seller stirred a bit, moving her arms back and forth as the reporter kept speaking.
"Most of Europe has been conquered, along with the Northeast corner of Africa. Russia has issued a statement suggesting countries fall in line and allow them to continue."
"In further news, Canada, the United States, and the Dominican Republic have joined forces to resist the oncoming attempts for Russia's control over the world."
The radio buzzed out after the announcement, and Eli sank to the ground, landing in a puddle of mud. He laughed slightly, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his glove, and spoke before anyone else could. "We're fucked, aren't we?"
Nobody spoke, we just stood in silence, minus Eli who was freaking out on the ground.
Clouds passed overhead, sending a shadow over the lot of us. The wind blew hard, scattering the leaves and sending the scent of flowers through the air.
Finally, Seller broke the silence.
"So? World War three, big fucking deal. Let's focus on completing this mission, then we can complain later."
I looked up at her, although I was tall for guy standards, she was still maybe half a head taller. "Yeah, well," I sighed, scratching my black hair. "Fuck it, yeah, let's just do our jobs for now."
In a way, it was odd. I was the newest among everyone, yet they listened to me as well. Was it a leadership quality? No. I was just the only one who spoke up the most often. Not very heroic.
I walked from the stone table and walked along the shadows cast on the ground from the castle walls. Reinforcements would come in the morning, maybe ten hours away, but there was still this odd feeling in my heart. Like a sharp, staggering pain.
I walked to the big, brown Humvees in the front of the castle and took a seat, watching soldiers carry crates filled to the brim with ammo around.
Without waiting much longer, I started to help, sending the chain along faster and taking some of the weight off their shoulders. Everyone was quiet; normally, there would be a joke here and there, but nobody spoke.
Not a word of thanks, not a grumble from the marines with their everlasting annoyance directed toward SEALs, not even the Irish forces were talking anymore.
Wait a fucking second, Europe? Northeast Africa? I know what they're doing!
I took a look around, scanning the perimeter for Ethan or Seller, and I found her much quicker.
"Seller!" I shouted, running over to join her.
"Alan?" She sounded sort of surprised, her voice faltering slightly as I rushed forward.
"Heartland! It's the fucking Heartland!" I pulled the map off the table and slammed it down on the empty side, grabbing a pen hanging loosely on the rock.
Slowly, I scribbled words down, names, and a few countries.
I looked up at her, smiling, but she looked more confused than ever. "What are you talking about?"
Did none of you pass Geography? I didn't say it out loud, but my face drooped at her question.
"Heartland Theory, it was made by Halford Mackinder," I explained, circling his name on the paper.
She looked at me, just as confused as before, but she started to nod and let me continue.
"Okay, basically, those who control Central and Eastern Europe can control the world. Asia, Africa, and Europe, it's explained in his essay from-"
She put her hand on my mouth, her eye twitching. "You are such a nerd, Casper. But... Ugh, you keep giving me more and more work." She walked off, carrying the map and making way to one of the tents set up. The command tent.
I smiled, my lips stretching despite being drier than the damn desert. We had an idea of their plan, which was more than probably anyone else. She called me a nerd, but I'd rather be a nerd than a fool.
Ethan ran up to me, grabbing my shoulder, and whirled me around to face him.
"Finally, Casper," He mumbled, squeezing my shoulder.
"First question, why are you all calling me Casper? Second question, what's up?"
"You move around like a damn ghost man. You can't be found for cleaning duty, but if a squad goes out, you're the first in line. Fucking Casper dude," He explained, patting my shoulder roughly before continuing.
"Second, we have a very fun mission taking volunteers. Are you up for some target practice?"
I nodded, not having time to think about the codename. I mean, sure, I finally got one. But the friendly ghost, seriously?
"Oh, wait! Ethan!" I called before he walked off to explain the details.
"Yeah?" He asked, walking back to look into my eyes. Which was considerably hard considering he was maybe five feet and six inches tall.
I was still phrasing my question in my head since he was one of the very few people who would know the answer. Seller probably wouldn't, since it was pretty clear she preferred working amongst the SEALs more than any Marines.
I mean, how do you ask someone if they knew somebody from another branch and whether they had connections within the battalion? Not the easiest thing to phrase.
"Listen, uh, would you happen to know if Alpha Company, First Battalion, is here?" I asked, sweat rolling down my face, while he looked slightly confused.
His eyebrow raised as he stared intently at me, but then he finally answered. "Yeah, no, they're here. They should be near Eli, probably somewhere to the West. Why?"
I felt kind of bad not answering his question, but I yelled my thanks and took off to the West of the castle. If they were here, they knew who showed up when Seller and I were pinned back on my first mission. Which also went south and caused the death of my first friend in BUD/S, Dan.
I ran past the stone wall, spotting Eli maybe one hundred meters in the distance, joined by around forty or so Marines. Perfect, higher chance of me figuring it out.
It wasn't long until I reached them, most were busy setting up tents and a larger temporary checkpoint. Along with a flatter ground for the plane, with reinforcements to land in around nine hours.
I just knew they would get there before the sun rose, but after the sun would set. So really, there were a few hours of wiggle room in my estimation, but it was probably better than having no idea and being freaked out half to death when a plane goes overhead.
"Alan? Perfect timing, could you-"
I cut him off instantly, making him look slightly taken aback as I spoke. "Alpha Company, First Battalion, where's their Captain?"
"Uh, he should be further ahead setting up a few boxes of ammo. Just take a right past the large tent in the middle. Is something wrong? It seems like you're in a hurry."
"I'll help later, I promise you. I just got to find something out!" I called back.
I rushed ahead while he let his clipboard rest against his chest and muttered a very quick 'what the fuck?' But I didn't let that worry me, sure, they'd be confused. They could stay confused until I got what I needed; there's no telling when someone'll die in war. This could be my only true opportunity.
A man turned to me up ahead, loading bullets one by one into a larger magazine. It looked like they were .50 BMGs, although those usually went with the bigger snipers like the Barrett M82.
"Hey, could I get a moment?" I asked, catching his eyes as he lowered the magazine.
"Can it wait? I'm busy," He answered, setting the magazine down in the bucket to his left and grabbing another from the bucket to his right.
"It'll be a few minutes, tops," I quickly promised, checking my vest to make sure nothing fell while I was running. For once, lady luck shined down on me and nothing fell, always a plus.
"Fine, be quick," He mumbled, finishing up another mag and grabbing another, along with a good fistful of bullets.
"Maine, a few weeks ago, was there anyone in your battalion who showed up?"
He stopped, dropping one of the bullets and looking back up at me. Slowly, he set a few bullets back in the bucket in front of him and glared into my eyes.
"No, we were around ten miles away. However, one of my soldiers requested a quick leave from training for around two and a half hours. We found out about what happened about an hour after he got back."
"Can I get his name?"
He glared harder at me, sighed, and then continued loading the bullets into the mags again. "He asked that I not tell anyone his name if they come looking. I'm sure you'll understand, I like to respect my soldiers and their choices."
I let out a loud sigh, picking up a magazine and helping load it up with him. "Is there anything I could get? I need to know who helped us, his skills were beyond anything I've ever seen."
"We call him Casing. The story is a bit long, but since you're helping, I could summarize it some." He paused, setting the completed mag in the bucket and grabbing another.
"First week here, maybe fifteen, sixteen years ago, he lost a bullet casing. He never found it, naturally, but since then, we have always left a casing near him. I will tell you now, do not cause trouble with my rangers, or you will not like the outcome. SEAL or not."
I knew I wasn't getting anything else from him, it was getting more and more apparent that I ticked him off by talking to him. Instead, I focused on helping him refill more magazines, at least until it turned pitch black.
I didn't bother saying goodbye to him, he made it clear after my questions that I was not welcome. But, no big deal, I could just ask Eli or Ethan for the 'Casing' guys' real name.
Except Ethan refused, and Eli backed up his answer after I explained everything. Forgot soldiers back each other up no matter what, including with information.
Seller came out Castell Dinefwr right after I finished my question, and not that I could have seen her face anyway because it was pitch black, she walked like she was pissed. Practically marching toward Eli, Ethan, and me, before stopping right in front of Ethan.
"I asked for a list of soldiers willing to go almost four hours ago. Where is it?" She demanded, stepping close enough that I had to move back so she wouldn't stomp on my boot.
"It's almost ready, but I thought it'd be better if we could get another group when the reinforcements move in. It'll be difficult with only three or so people," He explained, shifting his FN SCAR-L. (Pretty much just a lighter assault rifle.)
"Look, I get you're another team, but we have orders. Let's follow them, take the Third Battalion, and get going before the planes roll in. Got it?" She asked, taking a spare frag grenade from her vest and passing it over to him to keep hold of. "Take this too, just in case."
"Ten-Four, ma'am," He answered, clipping the grenade onto his vest.
"I can go too," I cut in before she left, except she shook her head.
"You're needed here, you'll be communicating with some of the troops rolling in. We're stretched pretty thin already."
At that, she left back to the command tent inside the Castell. Not that I had a problem with her, but some of her decisions weren't anything to approve of. Example prime.
Fucking hell. I thought, giving Ethan a thumbs up, and moving toward where SEAL Team Three was holed up. Inside a tent, but it wasn't deserving of the title 'tent.' Because it was smaller than some teenagers' will to live.
"Yo, Casper!"
"Fuckin' friendly ghost just came in!"
"Boo!"
"Oh no, don't haunt me with your ghostlyness!"
"Casper the slow soldier!"
A few more things were yelled, truth be told, I heard only a few because they were holding a massive cutout of fucking Casper the Friendly Ghost. A few moved closer with the cutout, their guns lying against the side of the tent. At least I wouldn't be turned into an actual ghost, for now anyway.
One of them tossed a handful of slime at me, which promptly slapped into my helmet. I wouldn't become a ghost just yet, but them? I was debating it.
A few hours went by, maybe an hour and a half minimum, before the reinforcements were supposed to roll in. But the livelyness, that brief happiness that can be found in war, was cut in half.
"THIS IS ETHAN, I AM REQUESTING-" The comms cut off inside the command tent, echoing around the courtyard. Everyone went silent, including me. My smile vanished as I ran through the entrance to get closer.
"IMMEDIATE BACKUP, WE'RE FUCKING-" It cut off again, replaced by a loud, metallic 'e' sound.
"5.4 KLICKS SOUTH- HELP!" That was the last line to go through before it went dead silent and we were forced to embrace the chilly night air.