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*phoot*
A bullet whizzed past Akims right cheek. It was so close, for a split second he could have sworn he felt the air ripple around his skin. He dropped to the floor and lay there, still, not moving a muscle. He wondered if the sniper that was targeting him so vehemently was looking at him right now - or if he was moving to a position where he could. He didn’t move - he didn’t have the strength. He was cold and tired, and yesterday’s downpour had left his uniform damp and clingy. He wanted to go home.
Back to his wife, back to his four children, back to his farm. He’d never wanted to be a soldier. He loved his homeland as much as any man, but this wasn’t his war. He was in a foreign country, fighting for foreign land. He would defend his country to the last breath, but he wasn’t defending, he was attacking. Or, at least, he was meant to be. At this moment, though, he, and the rest of the squad, was pinned down. He wasn’t bothered, though; it gave him time to rest – to contemplate the predicament he was in, and how to get out of it.
“Sign up for this special operation” the general had said “and we’ll have you home as soon as you’re objective is complete.”
It seemed a good deal at the time. All of Akims friends had been drafted into regular service which meant a minimum of 4 years peeling potatoes and polishing boots. Because of years of toiling on the farm, Akim was bigger than most of his countrymen – his children called him Ox. It was this, Akim thought, which got him on this special operation. It was only when Akim got out of the transport that he realised how ‘special’ this operation really was. Before him, forest and marsh as far as the eye could see. His commander had gathered them round and explained that 19 miles North-West laid their objective - the enemy’s main supply dump. Blow that up and the enemy’s vehicles would grind to a halt. Akim wondered if it was worth it, he’d never seen an enemy tank rumble down his field. Come to think about it, he’d never actually see any enemy vehicles anywhere - just men with sniper rifles.
Just as he started to daydream about the resistance they had faced so far, he felt something pulling on his shirt. It was Yevgeni, the squad leader. Akim turned round, and mumbled “sir”, surprised that leader had made the effort to greet him personally. This wasn’t a social call, however.
“Akim, we have to get over that ridge” he croaked. “And you’re the biggest man we have”.
Akim didn’t like where this was going. “It’s a dilemma…” he retorted, trying to break up the captain’s foolish notion – whatever it was.
“Over that ridge is our objective, and our ticket home – we have to get over there before the enemy can pull forces from the East back here.”
“And… you want me to…” he puzzled, blankly staring at the veterans pocked face.
“Lead a charge” Yevgeni snapped, “You’re the most intimidating soldier we have – if the enemy see you running at them, they’ll brown themselves.”
“IF they see me?”, Akim thought. “They’re going to be aiming solely for me.”
“I’m not asking you, Akim…”
He sighed, and thought of his wife, Nadya, sitting alone by the kitchen table, thinking of what he was doing.
Akim knew that if he didn’t obey the order, Yevgeni would kill him himself. Akim clutched his rifle close to his chest, and leaned over the rocks that were providing cover. He knew there were a small unit of snipers in close proximity to one another. He thought back to which direction the bullet came from and picked a spot in the landscape. He could see a young tree swaying unnaturally. That was his target. He drew in a deep breath and filled his lungs. He shouted his plan to his fellow Russians, and ordered them to ready. The 20 or so soldiers still active shouted back in agreement. Akim stood up, raised his rifle and cried out “CHARGE.”
All of a sudden, his comrades jumped to there feet, a mass of power, united by Akim. He felt a strange sense of control. He also felt that stomach-churning sense of danger, three or so shots sailed past. Akim knew a sitting target was easier to hit than and moving one, and didn’t hang around. “RRRRAAAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH”, he screamed, as he ran full speed at the nearby woodland, followed by the rest of the squad. The rest of HIS squad.
I'll have the second part next week. Possibly;)
A bullet whizzed past Akims right cheek. It was so close, for a split second he could have sworn he felt the air ripple around his skin. He dropped to the floor and lay there, still, not moving a muscle. He wondered if the sniper that was targeting him so vehemently was looking at him right now - or if he was moving to a position where he could. He didn’t move - he didn’t have the strength. He was cold and tired, and yesterday’s downpour had left his uniform damp and clingy. He wanted to go home.
Back to his wife, back to his four children, back to his farm. He’d never wanted to be a soldier. He loved his homeland as much as any man, but this wasn’t his war. He was in a foreign country, fighting for foreign land. He would defend his country to the last breath, but he wasn’t defending, he was attacking. Or, at least, he was meant to be. At this moment, though, he, and the rest of the squad, was pinned down. He wasn’t bothered, though; it gave him time to rest – to contemplate the predicament he was in, and how to get out of it.
“Sign up for this special operation” the general had said “and we’ll have you home as soon as you’re objective is complete.”
It seemed a good deal at the time. All of Akims friends had been drafted into regular service which meant a minimum of 4 years peeling potatoes and polishing boots. Because of years of toiling on the farm, Akim was bigger than most of his countrymen – his children called him Ox. It was this, Akim thought, which got him on this special operation. It was only when Akim got out of the transport that he realised how ‘special’ this operation really was. Before him, forest and marsh as far as the eye could see. His commander had gathered them round and explained that 19 miles North-West laid their objective - the enemy’s main supply dump. Blow that up and the enemy’s vehicles would grind to a halt. Akim wondered if it was worth it, he’d never seen an enemy tank rumble down his field. Come to think about it, he’d never actually see any enemy vehicles anywhere - just men with sniper rifles.
Just as he started to daydream about the resistance they had faced so far, he felt something pulling on his shirt. It was Yevgeni, the squad leader. Akim turned round, and mumbled “sir”, surprised that leader had made the effort to greet him personally. This wasn’t a social call, however.
“Akim, we have to get over that ridge” he croaked. “And you’re the biggest man we have”.
Akim didn’t like where this was going. “It’s a dilemma…” he retorted, trying to break up the captain’s foolish notion – whatever it was.
“Over that ridge is our objective, and our ticket home – we have to get over there before the enemy can pull forces from the East back here.”
“And… you want me to…” he puzzled, blankly staring at the veterans pocked face.
“Lead a charge” Yevgeni snapped, “You’re the most intimidating soldier we have – if the enemy see you running at them, they’ll brown themselves.”
“IF they see me?”, Akim thought. “They’re going to be aiming solely for me.”
“I’m not asking you, Akim…”
He sighed, and thought of his wife, Nadya, sitting alone by the kitchen table, thinking of what he was doing.
Akim knew that if he didn’t obey the order, Yevgeni would kill him himself. Akim clutched his rifle close to his chest, and leaned over the rocks that were providing cover. He knew there were a small unit of snipers in close proximity to one another. He thought back to which direction the bullet came from and picked a spot in the landscape. He could see a young tree swaying unnaturally. That was his target. He drew in a deep breath and filled his lungs. He shouted his plan to his fellow Russians, and ordered them to ready. The 20 or so soldiers still active shouted back in agreement. Akim stood up, raised his rifle and cried out “CHARGE.”
All of a sudden, his comrades jumped to there feet, a mass of power, united by Akim. He felt a strange sense of control. He also felt that stomach-churning sense of danger, three or so shots sailed past. Akim knew a sitting target was easier to hit than and moving one, and didn’t hang around. “RRRRAAAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH”, he screamed, as he ran full speed at the nearby woodland, followed by the rest of the squad. The rest of HIS squad.
I'll have the second part next week. Possibly;)
and the point of this was?
Hey, man, this is a forum based around games, only geeks hang around here. The last girl I talked to was behind the till at Lidel, and she thumped me for staring.
That was at the spamming guy but his message was removed - makes this a bit redundent.
That was at the spamming guy but his message was removed - makes this a bit redundent.
One reply... still got it!
Wow, had me clinched. great story, welcome back :-D
stoopid... don't read the story... what's the ******' point...
mumble
mumble
If a tree falls down in a forest and no-one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
...
What do you people think?! About my story, not the 'riddle.'
...
What do you people think?! About my story, not the 'riddle.'
*phoot*
A bullet whizzed past Akims right cheek. It was so close, for a split second he could have sworn he felt the air ripple around his skin. He dropped to the floor and lay there, still, not moving a muscle. He wondered if the sniper that was targeting him so vehemently was looking at him right now - or if he was moving to a position where he could. He didn’t move - he didn’t have the strength. He was cold and tired, and yesterday’s downpour had left his uniform damp and clingy. He wanted to go home.
Back to his wife, back to his four children, back to his farm. He’d never wanted to be a soldier. He loved his homeland as much as any man, but this wasn’t his war. He was in a foreign country, fighting for foreign land. He would defend his country to the last breath, but he wasn’t defending, he was attacking. Or, at least, he was meant to be. At this moment, though, he, and the rest of the squad, was pinned down. He wasn’t bothered, though; it gave him time to rest – to contemplate the predicament he was in, and how to get out of it.
“Sign up for this special operation” the general had said “and we’ll have you home as soon as you’re objective is complete.”
It seemed a good deal at the time. All of Akims friends had been drafted into regular service which meant a minimum of 4 years peeling potatoes and polishing boots. Because of years of toiling on the farm, Akim was bigger than most of his countrymen – his children called him Ox. It was this, Akim thought, which got him on this special operation. It was only when Akim got out of the transport that he realised how ‘special’ this operation really was. Before him, forest and marsh as far as the eye could see. His commander had gathered them round and explained that 19 miles North-West laid their objective - the enemy’s main supply dump. Blow that up and the enemy’s vehicles would grind to a halt. Akim wondered if it was worth it, he’d never seen an enemy tank rumble down his field. Come to think about it, he’d never actually see any enemy vehicles anywhere - just men with sniper rifles.
Just as he started to daydream about the resistance they had faced so far, he felt something pulling on his shirt. It was Yevgeni, the squad leader. Akim turned round, and mumbled “sir”, surprised that leader had made the effort to greet him personally. This wasn’t a social call, however.
“Akim, we have to get over that ridge” he croaked. “And you’re the biggest man we have”.
Akim didn’t like where this was going. “It’s a dilemma…” he retorted, trying to break up the captain’s foolish notion – whatever it was.
“Over that ridge is our objective, and our ticket home – we have to get over there before the enemy can pull forces from the East back here.”
“And… you want me to…” he puzzled, blankly staring at the veterans pocked face.
“Lead a charge” Yevgeni snapped, “You’re the most intimidating soldier we have – if the enemy see you running at them, they’ll brown themselves.”
“IF they see me?”, Akim thought. “They’re going to be aiming solely for me.”
“I’m not asking you, Akim…”
He sighed, and thought of his wife, Nadya, sitting alone by the kitchen table, thinking of what he was doing.
Akim knew that if he didn’t obey the order, Yevgeni would kill him himself. Akim clutched his rifle close to his chest, and leaned over the rocks that were providing cover. He knew there were a small unit of snipers in close proximity to one another. He thought back to which direction the bullet came from and picked a spot in the landscape. He could see a young tree swaying unnaturally. That was his target. He drew in a deep breath and filled his lungs. He shouted his plan to his fellow Russians, and ordered them to ready. The 20 or so soldiers still active shouted back in agreement. Akim stood up, raised his rifle and cried out “CHARGE.”
All of a sudden, his comrades jumped to there feet, a mass of power, united by Akim. He felt a strange sense of control. He also felt that stomach-churning sense of danger, three or so shots sailed past. Akim knew a sitting target was easier to hit than and moving one, and didn’t hang around. “RRRRAAAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH”, he screamed, as he ran full speed at the nearby woodland, followed by the rest of the squad. The rest of HIS squad.
I'll have the second part next week. Possibly;)
A bullet whizzed past Akims right cheek. It was so close, for a split second he could have sworn he felt the air ripple around his skin. He dropped to the floor and lay there, still, not moving a muscle. He wondered if the sniper that was targeting him so vehemently was looking at him right now - or if he was moving to a position where he could. He didn’t move - he didn’t have the strength. He was cold and tired, and yesterday’s downpour had left his uniform damp and clingy. He wanted to go home.
Back to his wife, back to his four children, back to his farm. He’d never wanted to be a soldier. He loved his homeland as much as any man, but this wasn’t his war. He was in a foreign country, fighting for foreign land. He would defend his country to the last breath, but he wasn’t defending, he was attacking. Or, at least, he was meant to be. At this moment, though, he, and the rest of the squad, was pinned down. He wasn’t bothered, though; it gave him time to rest – to contemplate the predicament he was in, and how to get out of it.
“Sign up for this special operation” the general had said “and we’ll have you home as soon as you’re objective is complete.”
It seemed a good deal at the time. All of Akims friends had been drafted into regular service which meant a minimum of 4 years peeling potatoes and polishing boots. Because of years of toiling on the farm, Akim was bigger than most of his countrymen – his children called him Ox. It was this, Akim thought, which got him on this special operation. It was only when Akim got out of the transport that he realised how ‘special’ this operation really was. Before him, forest and marsh as far as the eye could see. His commander had gathered them round and explained that 19 miles North-West laid their objective - the enemy’s main supply dump. Blow that up and the enemy’s vehicles would grind to a halt. Akim wondered if it was worth it, he’d never seen an enemy tank rumble down his field. Come to think about it, he’d never actually see any enemy vehicles anywhere - just men with sniper rifles.
Just as he started to daydream about the resistance they had faced so far, he felt something pulling on his shirt. It was Yevgeni, the squad leader. Akim turned round, and mumbled “sir”, surprised that leader had made the effort to greet him personally. This wasn’t a social call, however.
“Akim, we have to get over that ridge” he croaked. “And you’re the biggest man we have”.
Akim didn’t like where this was going. “It’s a dilemma…” he retorted, trying to break up the captain’s foolish notion – whatever it was.
“Over that ridge is our objective, and our ticket home – we have to get over there before the enemy can pull forces from the East back here.”
“And… you want me to…” he puzzled, blankly staring at the veterans pocked face.
“Lead a charge” Yevgeni snapped, “You’re the most intimidating soldier we have – if the enemy see you running at them, they’ll brown themselves.”
“IF they see me?”, Akim thought. “They’re going to be aiming solely for me.”
“I’m not asking you, Akim…”
He sighed, and thought of his wife, Nadya, sitting alone by the kitchen table, thinking of what he was doing.
Akim knew that if he didn’t obey the order, Yevgeni would kill him himself. Akim clutched his rifle close to his chest, and leaned over the rocks that were providing cover. He knew there were a small unit of snipers in close proximity to one another. He thought back to which direction the bullet came from and picked a spot in the landscape. He could see a young tree swaying unnaturally. That was his target. He drew in a deep breath and filled his lungs. He shouted his plan to his fellow Russians, and ordered them to ready. The 20 or so soldiers still active shouted back in agreement. Akim stood up, raised his rifle and cried out “CHARGE.”
All of a sudden, his comrades jumped to there feet, a mass of power, united by Akim. He felt a strange sense of control. He also felt that stomach-churning sense of danger, three or so shots sailed past. Akim knew a sitting target was easier to hit than and moving one, and didn’t hang around. “RRRRAAAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH”, he screamed, as he ran full speed at the nearby woodland, followed by the rest of the squad. The rest of HIS squad.
I'll have the second part next week. Possibly;)