Thel' Vadamee
Audio Log #10- Disaster
Ever since the fight, my flashbacks have gotten more intense, and more frequent. I was still able to function in combat, but my dreams and musings were filled with images from the past. Some were benign, such as images of my wife and children, others not so much. Some of the smarter soldiers, like Cryptid, could tell something was up. But I didn't let it bother me. Until today.
The Wolves arrived near the end of a major battle between USDF footsoldiers and an elite group of Urags. The battle had raged on, with the USDF losing ground, but with few casualties. However, someone high up in the chain of command, who had been observing the fight, panicked. The Urags were closing in, so he called in an air strike, using some of the precious planes that the USDF had left. It was a catastrophe. The Urags were mostly wiped out, but so were 2/3 of the remaining USDF boys. All to save one small man's ass. Anyway, we were here on cleanup, to help the footsoldiers clear out the last of the Urags. We were spread pretty thin, with snipers being spread thin. I heard a commotion, and rushed to investigate. As I cleared the ridge of a blast crater, I saw a horrible sight. A USDF grunt was grappling with an Urag Elite, some of the meanest boys on the battlefield. The USDF soldier had taken a bad slash to his gut, and was holding one blood-soaked hand over the wound. Upon seeing me, a new threat, the Urag grabbed the soldier across the neck, and began dragging him backwards, where the 'Rag could find some cover. I aimed down the sights, with both the kid's head and the Urag's in view. I made the mistake of looking into the kid's eyes, terrified and hopeful that I could save him...
My mind flashed back to the early days of the war. There was a little boy, who seemed familiar, but I couldn't place him. It was exactly as this was, an Urag, a Chieftain with one eye, dragging the child away into the darkness... I couldn't take the risk of hitting the kid! I wasn't that great of a shot, yet. I saw the boy's eyes, with the same look of hope as the soldier in peril. As he was carried off, he screamed to me, "Daddy!" The last scream of the child, my son, hung in the air. But it was mixed with the sound of another, older voice. Awoken out of my reverie, I saw the Urag making a run for it, and the soldier drowning in a pool of his own blood. I looked down, and saw my sniper rifle pointed harmlessly at the ground. Before he died, I saw the look of confusion, confusion and accusation, in the dying soldiers eyes. That look, I knew would haunt me for years to come. My gut churned with mixed feelings about these events. However, I still had a job to do. I drew a bead on the running Urag, and began to squeeze the trigger...
The Urag exploded, though not by my rifle. Through the smoke, Cryptid appeared, a look of confusion and accusation nearly mirroring that of the now-dead soldier. More soldiers began to show up, with similar expressions. Murmurs began to spread, whispers between groups. I slowly approached the dead soldier, and took his dog tags. Unbeknown to any other soldier, I silently added his tag to a chain I kept in my vest pocket; a chain with twenty three other tags already on it. With this, I slowly walked away, back to camp. Once there, I found a secluded area, sat down, and cried, silent sobs racking my body for hours.
Audio Log #10- Disaster
Ever since the fight, my flashbacks have gotten more intense, and more frequent. I was still able to function in combat, but my dreams and musings were filled with images from the past. Some were benign, such as images of my wife and children, others not so much. Some of the smarter soldiers, like Cryptid, could tell something was up. But I didn't let it bother me. Until today.
The Wolves arrived near the end of a major battle between USDF footsoldiers and an elite group of Urags. The battle had raged on, with the USDF losing ground, but with few casualties. However, someone high up in the chain of command, who had been observing the fight, panicked. The Urags were closing in, so he called in an air strike, using some of the precious planes that the USDF had left. It was a catastrophe. The Urags were mostly wiped out, but so were 2/3 of the remaining USDF boys. All to save one small man's ass. Anyway, we were here on cleanup, to help the footsoldiers clear out the last of the Urags. We were spread pretty thin, with snipers being spread thin. I heard a commotion, and rushed to investigate. As I cleared the ridge of a blast crater, I saw a horrible sight. A USDF grunt was grappling with an Urag Elite, some of the meanest boys on the battlefield. The USDF soldier had taken a bad slash to his gut, and was holding one blood-soaked hand over the wound. Upon seeing me, a new threat, the Urag grabbed the soldier across the neck, and began dragging him backwards, where the 'Rag could find some cover. I aimed down the sights, with both the kid's head and the Urag's in view. I made the mistake of looking into the kid's eyes, terrified and hopeful that I could save him...
My mind flashed back to the early days of the war. There was a little boy, who seemed familiar, but I couldn't place him. It was exactly as this was, an Urag, a Chieftain with one eye, dragging the child away into the darkness... I couldn't take the risk of hitting the kid! I wasn't that great of a shot, yet. I saw the boy's eyes, with the same look of hope as the soldier in peril. As he was carried off, he screamed to me, "Daddy!" The last scream of the child, my son, hung in the air. But it was mixed with the sound of another, older voice. Awoken out of my reverie, I saw the Urag making a run for it, and the soldier drowning in a pool of his own blood. I looked down, and saw my sniper rifle pointed harmlessly at the ground. Before he died, I saw the look of confusion, confusion and accusation, in the dying soldiers eyes. That look, I knew would haunt me for years to come. My gut churned with mixed feelings about these events. However, I still had a job to do. I drew a bead on the running Urag, and began to squeeze the trigger...
The Urag exploded, though not by my rifle. Through the smoke, Cryptid appeared, a look of confusion and accusation nearly mirroring that of the now-dead soldier. More soldiers began to show up, with similar expressions. Murmurs began to spread, whispers between groups. I slowly approached the dead soldier, and took his dog tags. Unbeknown to any other soldier, I silently added his tag to a chain I kept in my vest pocket; a chain with twenty three other tags already on it. With this, I slowly walked away, back to camp. Once there, I found a secluded area, sat down, and cried, silent sobs racking my body for hours.