Desert Force

Chapter 1: The most mundane of Chores

Dante Chambers lazily traced his M249 SAW along the horizon whilst tapping his foot to a tune which he hummed. He was strangely relaxed considering the circumstances – a small force of American marines deep into enemy territory. Rivulets of sweat fell casually down the young private’s face, only to evaporate as soon as they touched the torrid sand. The heat distorted his vision, and it seemed like silhouettes of the enemy stood watching him from the sandy dunes which constructed the landscape. Dante sighed impatiently – watch duty was one of the more mundane chores in the army.


A gruff, grating voice behind him sounded as the muscular Sergeant O’rein approached from behind him, his thick boots barely making a sound against the fair sand. The sergeant’s M16 was slung across his shoulder, but the veteran kept his hand near the weapon, as if it consoled him knowing that it was there. “Watch time is up private” the Sarge growled, then handed him a water bottle. “Drink up” The tall man ordered bluntly, before continuing. “We already lost Smith to dehydration so far, and if it keeps up at this rate, if those goddamn bastards don’t kill us, the heat will.” Dante nodded silently in agreement, and then took a long draught from the canteen. The cool liquid rushed passed the private’s parched lips, flowing down his throat and relieving some of the pain which the heat brought. After his drink, Dante handed the steel flask back to O’rein. Both of the soldiers were young, but they looked ten years older – war had taken its toll on the two. The sergeant patted Dante on the shoulder as he left – months of fighting together had brought the whole squad closer.


Dante turned back towards the encampment, looking forward to change out of his perspiration soaked clothes, and speaking to his girlfriend. He briskly marched as his replacement walked to his post, talking to the sergeant, then standing and watching. The encampment was little more than just a few tents, but it was home - for now. Dante walked towards his tent, pushing the canvas flaps aside. He reached across his back, and rubbed his sore shoulders – four hours of watch duty in the blistering heat took a lot out of a guy. He pulled his helmet off before ripping off the bandoliers of ammo that were wound around his torso, and scratched the stubble that was his hair – military regulations had become stricter recently. As Dante leant his gun against his makeshift bed, his radio blared to life in the unmistakable tones of one of... them. “We know where you are...”





Chapter 2: Ambush

Dante almost pissed himself as the voice spoke. He leapt towards his bed, and grabbed the SAW from where it was leant. He scanned left and right, looking for hostiles, and just becoming even more nervous when he couldn’t find any. Then there was a sound outside – a shadow could be seen through the thin fabric of the tent. Dante levelled his M249, readying to shoot. The figure moved closer to the entrance of the tent, the opened it...

In stepped Daniel Connors – the squad’s newest addition. “Chambers, sarge told me to come and get you – sorry about this, I know it was supposed to be your rest... but we got trouble. Rendezvous at point delta in five, O’rein and the rest are waiting” Connors whispered then sprinted out of the canvas structure, chased by the sound of machine gun fire. Dante grabbed his helmet, clipped it on, and then grabbed as many magazines as he could carry – they would most probably need it. He grimaced then prepared to make a run for it, taking a deep breath before running out of the tent. Bullets whizzed over his head, and the noise was deafening. The rattle of machine gun fire, with the occasional crack of a sniper rifle made a crescendo of war. As he ran, Dante noticed the opposition getting more and more accurate – if he didn’t get to Delta soon, he wouldn’t get there at all. Dante grabbed a grenade from his belt whilst pulling the pin, turned sideways, and threw the grenade. It was a good throw, and the explosive landed in the midst of them. Dante heard cries of surprise before the explosion drowned them out.

Dante slowed as he approached point Delta, taking deep breaths as he stopped. The rest of the squad were assembled there, except Smith. “Poor guy” Dante thought – Smith had been found half roasted during his watch duty. Dante surveyed the collection of grim faced marines – he had fought with them all before, and they were a great team. “Fall in Chambers” Sergeant O’rein growled, clutching his M16 tightly. “We got a problem. Somehow these bastards managed to find us, and now they got us, I don’t think they’re letting go.” All the marines swore, each one looking jumpy – they had obviously heard the message too. Then Dante almost swore aloud – he had forgotten his radio. Dante just hoped that he wouldn’t need it, although if he did, he probably wouldn’t be able to reprimand himself – he’d be dead.

Just as the sergeant opened his mouth to speak, there was the crack of a sniper rifle. One of the squad jerked backwards as the first shot hit, sending a light spray of blood everywhere. The first crack was followed by another, hitting the same man again – this time in the head. Chunks of flesh and bone flew everywhere as the soldier slumped to the ground. “Shit!” Connors cried, as the sergeant issued the order to take cover. The marines fell back, taking cover behind a nearby jeep. Bullets hit the steel shell of the vehicle, causing sparks to fly. Dante stood up, and fired into the direction of the bullets, spraying rounds everywhere. He heard a scream of pain as one of the enemies fell. To his right, he heard Connors throwing up violently – it was the poor kid’s first time in action. A rocket twirled above from an RPG, leaving a plume of exhaust, but missing the vehicle. Occasionally, one of the soldiers would stand to fire a short burst from their automatics, or a single shot from a rifle. O’rein swore, impatient, and grabbed a machine gun off one of the nearby privates. He stood up, and unloaded a clip into the air. The magazine clicked empty, and he grabbed his Desert Eagle from its holster. The seven round clip was emptied within seconds. Seeing the chance for an attack, the soldiers stood. Rifles and machineguns roared as the small squadron opened fire. There were multiple screams, then the shooting stopped – it was over... for now.

Chapter 3: Deserts of Blood

Dante shivered – he never thought he would be cold out here. The moon hung low in the sky, the only source of light in the dark night. It illuminated the sands, casting eerie shadows everywhere. O’rein signalled for the troop to stop. They stood, scanning the dunes which formed a valley around them. If they were attacked now, the squad wouldn’t stand a chance. The past week had been one of blood and gore – the remaining marines had taken the two vehicles the camp owned and made a run for it, closely pursued by hostiles. Two days ago, an enemy ambush had wiped out the two transports, and over a quarter of the remaining soldiers. Dante squinted, trying to penetrate the darkness. Then O’rein gave them the clear. The weary troops trudged onwards, barely lifting their feet from the ground.

The sun managed to pull itself up over the horizon, bringing the troops out of the freezing cold, and into the boiling heat. The heavy equipment which they carried did little to help, and Dante had heard some of the weaker squad members muttering about how they should ‘just ditch the junk.’ Still, the said marines didn’t voice their opinions to the Sergeant - he had a reputation of being rather harsh with punishments. Thick black rings circled the men’s faces, showing how tired the marines were – three days of solid marching had certainly taken its toll on the whole group. They continued to walk, pushing onwards.

The patrol slowed, and then came to a stop. The marines quickly spun, looking for hostiles – for the reason. Then the O’rein yelled “We got a problem – Kowalski’s fainted. Get Johnson over here now!” Johnson, the squad’s only medic sprinted up to the senior marine, and examined him. “Goddamn heatstroke,” the medic grimaced then looked up at the sun, squinting. It looked back down, glaring harshly at the weary soldiers. “That goddamn heat is gonna’ kill us,” Connors muttered, shaking his head. O’rein cut off the trail of thought, in an attempt to stop morale dropping even lower. “Don’t speak shit like that marine. We’re here for a reason, and we all know goddamn well that we’ve been through worse.” The squad looked up, some nodding in agreement, some continuing to look at their feet, muttering mutinously.

By midday, two more soldiers had fallen to the heat. Dante felt his thin uniform cling to his slim body with the sweat. He raised his hand again to wipe off a drop of sweat which slowly abseiled down his face. As soon as he lowered his arm, Dante found himself raising it again to catch another drop which was followed by another and another. Dots swam before his eyes as the heat hammered into him, and Dante found himself pitching forwards, his head colliding with the soft sand. “So... so soft,” He murmured to himself. “A nice place to sleep...” and the private closed his eyes...

A cold splash of water hit Dante in the face, washing away the grime, and soothing the burns. His eyes snapped open. “Goddamn it Chambers” the Sergeant growled, his face painted with worry. “Don’t freakin’ do that – we thought we’d lost you.” He offered Dante his hand. Chambers accepted it graciously, and pulled himself up, dizzy. He surveyed his surroundings – he was in some sort of house, with all the furniture piled into one corner. It was still hot, but certainly cooler than outside. Dante took the offered water bottle from O’rein and took a short draught – conservation was everything now. He walked up some rough stairs after his drink, into what seemed to be a bedroom. Littered around the floor were the other members of the squad, each wearing an assortment of sun burns. Chambers shrugged and joined them.

The force had been ready this time, but not ready for this. It was about four in the afternoon, and then they had come, armed with more than the troops had expected. Infact, they even had a M1A2 tank! Dante slapped another magazine into his SAW, then stood from his cover, firing. He heard multiple cries of pain – the marines didn’t even have to aim in a target rich territory such as this. The soldiers had taken a defensive position in the village which they had stopped at. There were more agonized screams as the soldiers fired. A shell flew overhead as the armoured giant fired. Behind, a stone building was reduced to rubble, sending thousands of stone chips into the troops. The majority of the chips pinged harmlessly off the armoured helmets, but some hit. Screams were heard as stone collided with flesh, killing some, but Dante remained unscathed. He scanned the area, searching for something that could help their dire situation.

An RPG lay on the golden sand, just metres away. “Give me some cover fire!” Dante yelled, and then leapt out into the open, heading for the launcher. He heard yells of surprise as the hostiles saw him appear, and began to track him. Then they were hammered by automatic fire, pushing them backwards in a spray of lead and gore. One however, seemed adamant on killing Dante. He sustained multiple hits, yet he his kept arm steady, a pistol in hand. A single gunshot rang clear, but Dante heard it just in time. He tucked into a tight roll, moving quickly – but not quickly enough...

The lead tore through Dante’s flesh, and it seemed like an eternity that it was in his body. Blood dripped from the wound to the floor, where it was instantly swallowed by the starving ground, and he opened his mouth in both disbelief and pain. He looked down to see the wound. The bullet had pierced his calf, hitting the hardened muscle and ripping through it like paper. He almost howled in pain as he tentatively prodded it, but then remembered his task. Despite the pain, the burning, never-ending pain, Dante continued to walk, determined, until his bad leg gave way. He groaned as his body collided with the sand, scorching his already tortured skin, but pulled himself forward with his arms, and grabbed the RPG off the floor.

Thunder sounded as the tank fired again, this time closer to the marines. Dante shakily stood, and levelled the heavy weapon. He grimaced, trying to aim as his calf exploded in pain below. Deep inside, although he was loath to admit it Dante knew there wouldn’t be a perfect shot. So, he reasoned, Now was as good a time as any. He pulled the trigger, and let the recoil knock him to the ground as he watched the missile fly towards the tank, twirling and sending plumes of exhaust everywhere. Luck must have guided his shot, for the missile flew inside the turret. For a split second it seemed nothing had happened... then the tank exploded from the inside out. Dante felt a wave of heat and sound wash over him as the machine went up in flames, and he felt sorry for those closer to the explosion – even the enemy. As the smoke cleared, the Sergeant stepped out. “We lost a lot of good marines today” He growled, then gestured out to the blood red sands. “But we still gave them a damn good hiding.”