I Will Fear No Evil

5th of August 2017
Outskirts of Kyiv, Ukraine
2230
SFC John Baxton, Delta Squad

Chapter 1: The Assault of Kyiv

There were thirteen of us. We were a seven man squad, and we joined up with alpha squad two clicks off CP. They had one KIA. Had no choice but to leave him. There were only two of them chasing us, but they had dogs. At least nine. Three of us were wounded, but not badly. I had one clip my right shoulder, Jackson had some shrapnel from a frag in his upper left arm, Sampson took a hit in his side. We managed though. We got to the CP around 2217.

The CP was a three story building. There were twelve windows, three rows of four. Sampson, being the most badly injured went to the top floor with our medic Cypes, Jackson, and two other privates from alpha squad. the rest of us set up the remaining two claymores by the door and moved to the second floor. The two tangos must have sent the dogs away. They got to the door about 15 mikes after we finished. As soon as the doors opened I saw Jasinski pull the wire and the claymores went off. The taller tango went down. The other spun around and clutched his face. I dropped him with my M4.

We decided we needed to stay put for the night. Sampson wasn't in any condition to be combat effective. He lost too much blood. I got on the radio and requested MedEvac. We got denied because the DZ would be too hot come morning. We'd have to wait till the next night. "I guess we're stuck here for now soldiers," I told the others. Cypes used up the last of her morphine. A few hours later Sampson began to feel the stitching. He's one tough S.O.B. Not once did he complain. He laid there on the floor of an old bathroom and played cards with Cypes to keep himself sane. That was the last time I saw him smile. I still have a drink for him every now and again.

The next day we saw the hostile convoy about fifty meters from the CP. They were searching buildings in the town. When they got to ours we decided it best to keep silent. We hid on the top floor. I had the only suppressor between the thirteen of us. For my M9. I stood at the door way with my knife and pistol drawn. One tango came through the threshold and I sunk the knife directly into his jugular and held his mouth. We dragged his body into the adjacent corner. When two more came to look for him, they saw his body and ran to him. We dropped them before they could reach for a radio. There were five others. They heard the last two's muffled screams and threw some smoke grenades into the windows. Sampson had thermals. I used them to watch the tangos come up the stairs and through the door. I dropped a frag on the top stair and let it roll all the way down. They tried to run. Tried being the key term.

The last three fired randomly into the walls hoping to get a lucky hit. They did. Sampson took a ricochet to the side of the head. He was KIA in a few seconds. Cypes took his weapon and guarded his body. We already lost one, we weren't going to lose Sampson without a fight. I threw my last frag out the window and ran down the stairs while they were distracted. I got to the bottom floor and headed for the door. I saw one of them running toward me. He had shrapnel in his left thigh. I put two in his chest and he fell to the ground about ten meters outside the door. I stepped towards the door and looked outside. The others had taken care of the other two.

When the sun came up, the MedEvac finally arrived. We loaded Sampson's body. The pilot must have felt the piece of shit he was. He left without saying so much as a word to us. If he'd have shown up when we asked, Sampson would still be alive. I never felt so cheated in all of my life. I wanted to put a hole in that son-of-a-bitch's head right then and there. But that's not the Army way. That's not how a soldier would handle this situation.

Three weeks later Cypes, Jackson, and I were on weekend leave. We went to Kyiv and got some drinks. Cypes toasted to Sampson and we all sat at our booth drinking in silence. "Sampson was a good man," I said. "He deserved better than what Ukraine gave him, but I'm gonna spend the rest of our time here avenging his death. I say we put a hole in the head of every Ukraine soldier we find." Jackson smiled and agreed. Cypes said "Agreed" but didn't look up. I didn't know then, but Cypes and Sampson were close. Really close. I always felt like there was a connection between us, but not like there was between her and Sampson. The look on her face when we all turned and saw the hole in his head, blood leaking out in a rapid spurt, it was enough to bring a man to tears. She was so heart broken, I never thought I'd see her smile again. Well, I was right. Because later that night, I found her in mess hall latrines with her throat and wrists cut. She looked me in the eye and mouthed "I'm sorry" just before she slipped away. I knelt down beside her, in the pool of blood she had started, and kissed her forehead. I closed her cold, staring eyes and whispered "I forgive you."

Chapter 2: Operation Night Owl

We were without a medic or a CQB specialist. I cried that night, when Cypes committed suicide. I blamed myself at the time, we had so many suicide prevention classes. I should have seen it coming. I guess she would have been combat ineffective anyway. That's kinda cold, but that's just how it is. I miss her, but I think I miss Sampson more. Anyway, enough of my pussy shit. We lost two soldiers, nothing more needs to be said. They sent us a couple of freshies from the states to replace Sampson and Cypes. The medic was PFC David Herman. The CQB specialist was PV2 John Juarez. They were okay soldiers. They weren't anywhere near the skills Cypes or Sampson had, but they'd do. The next few weeks were what our CO called "the transitioning phase". We had to get used to and familiar with each other. This basically meant spending every f****** waking moment with the newbies, training, going to the range, everything down to pissing was done side by side.

At 0430 the next morning, we were finally called for an assignment. We filed into the debriefing room, which was a tent just like everything else the Army wanted to provide us with, and sat there waiting for what seemed like hours. In reality, it was more like twenty minutes. 1st Lieutenant Brower finally walked into the room and we snapped to parade rest. "As you were" she said. We sat back down. "You four are being assigned to Operation Night Owl. At 2330 this evening, you will be dropped on top of the CP, a four story building, via Blackhawk." Suddenly the projector behind us threw up an image of a building diagram of what the Lieutenant was describing. "From there," she continued, "you will enter through the roof access here and pass down the stairs to the third floor. You are to then breach and clear each room until you find the HVT, 24-year-old Анна Анушка. She is not to be harmed. She has valuable information that we need to recover. Any questions? Good. Dismissed."

At around 2320 we piled into the back of a Blackhawk loaded and prepared. About half an hour later we were at the CP. There wasn't room to land, so we roped down onto the gravel covered roof top. I brought along my brand new 500 Chainsaw. Beautiful little shotgun. I breached the door leading to the access stairs and we all rushed in the door. We could hear faint, panicked voices. We rushed down the first flight of stair and stacked up by the door. I opened it slightly and tossed a concussion grenade inside. About three seconds later, it detonated and we ran inside. Two hostiles stood within three meters of the door. I dropped one and one of the soldiers behind me took out the other. Another tango wielding a Kalashnikov strafed through the hallway between doors and fired a few rounds. I knew not even a second after he stopped firing, I was hit. My vest caught it, but boy did it sting! I ran into the room and ducked behind the wall. He poked his head out to shoot again and was met by the barrel of my Mossberg.

We searched room to room and found nothing. Just empty rooms. Then Herman checked the bathroom. They found her in the tub. We knew by the look of her she was dead or close to it. Herman checked her pulse. It was faint but there. She was obviously raped and beaten. Her face wasn't recognizable. She had scratches and bruises covering her body from head to toe. This poor women was put through hell. We were too late to prevent that. I put a blanket around her, and we rushed her upstairs to the roof. Juarez called for MedEvac while Herman did what he could for her. She began to utter something in Russian. "Jackson. What's she saying?" I yelled. He put his ear close to her mouth and she tried to speak louder. Suddenly his face turned pale and he looked up at me. "We need to get off this building. Now." "Why," I asked. "It's rigged to blow. She said detonation is timed for 1am." I looked at my watch. "S***! That's in two minutes! MOVE!!!! MOVE!!!! WE NEED TO GET OFF THE ROOF!!!!" Herman picked up the girl and we began running down the stairs. I didn't care if there were tangos, which there weren't. I just wanted to keep the rest of my men and this girl alive. I couldn't bare another fatality on my watch. I busted through door after door, jumped down flights of stairs to make sure they Herman wouldn't have to stop. I broke my right ankle in the process. I just kept moving though. I checked my watch again. "15 seconds!!!!! Everybody out!" I yelled as I held the door open. Once everyone was MSD from the building, we went down in the sewer. My ankle was completely shattered by the jump. As I laid there covered in s*** water, listening to that building come apart and rain little pieces of construction materials in through the open manhole, I didn't know if I'd make it. I know it was just a broken ankle, but what if we got chased? What if we were going to need to run and I'd just slow us down? That was the last thing I remember before waking up a few hours later in the infirmary at HQ.

I awoke feeling dizzy, disoriented and kind of nauseated. I was laying in a bed with my right foot suspended above the bed in a sling. I looked to my left and noticed they had me on an I.V. of morphine. The nurse, noticing I had awoken, walked to my side. "Good morning Sergent. How are you feeling?" she asked in a sickeningly sweet tone. "Like hammered s***." I said in as polite of a tone as I could muster. She giggled in that same Barbie-doll voice and adjusted my pillow for me. "Some discomfort is to be expected. Can I get you anything?" she asked. I thought for a moment. "Can you get me a cup of coffee?" I asked politely. The nurse nodded and walked away. As I sat there waiting for what seemed like an eternity, I suddenly felt colder. It must have dropped twenty degrees or more. I swear I heard Cypes whisper my name in that moment, and felt her soft hand on my shoulder. I reached up to touch the hand, but it was gone. The nurse finally came back and it became warm again. "Here's your coffee sir! Sir?" I reached out and took the Styrofoam cup from her and placed it on the tray by my bed. I felt my eyes begin to burn as I lay there trying to process what I just experienced. I felt one solitary tear roll down my face. For the first time since I was 14, I let it. I didn't fight back the pain.

Chapter 3: Fourty-Five Caliber Aspirin

And now here I am. I've been lying in my bed for hours. I'm impressed with myself for not being overtaken by the alcohol yet. I'm so very numb right now, I don't know how long it will be until the contents of the suicide pill I swallowed reaches my heart. Until then, if you are reading this you know my story. It's yours to tell or destroy as you please. I think there may be something wrong. My chest has begun to have acute pains. I'm going to end it all now. I'm so glad I keep my .45 on the nightstand. Goodbye one final time. I'm going to see my friends soon.