2023-01-29 08:45:39“Name?”
Alvis, Michael G., sir.
“Date of Birth?”
May 31st, 1992.
“Look, kid. I gotta tell you. This isn’t gonna be fun,”
Yes, sir, I know..
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Grieland was once part of Marronia, our northern neighbor, before we decided to split up. Back in the 1980’s, we had a civil war which then had an impact on how we came to be. It was short, but effective. We disagreed with them about a few things and fought for it. With UN assistance, we established independence from Marronia in 1986.
Tension never ceased, however. Our respective diplomatic representatives even once got caught in a fistfight. Last I heard, we found oil reserves under our territory to the southeast, beneath the ocean floors of Bakers Island. The word is that Marronia will try to claim it as theirs. We took it as mere rumors. Until, on 31st of March, they invaded.
A portion of our population were of Marren origin; which would mean that they have immediate families in the regions that are still within Marronian Territory. This would prove to be a little hassle, as the military viewed them as potential guerillas aiding Marren Invaders. Speculations floated around whether or not this could happen, and it eventually showed.
There were quite a lot of people showing support for Marronia. Generally these people were either of Marren descent, claiming Grieland as an illegitimate country, or both. Some of them formed a group called the White Sword, whose members poured onto the streets in mid-April—barely two months before the invasion. Some people would speculate that they were actually plain-clothed Marren soldiers who infiltrated our borders.
Not long after we were invaded, the White Sword turned into insurgents—or Liberators, as they advertised themselves as. Armed with anything they could’ve found, they started opening fire at military outposts as early as May 15th. It was on a Monday morning that some news broke out; several soldiers were killed in skirmishes with these groups.
Chirping birds were made fleeing by loud bangs out of automatic weapons and machine guns just a few days later. Big, crowded cities well within our borders like Jacktown, Haier, Sauerchar, and Goodwill were under attack by armed fighters, and the Army responded. These skirmishes happened most frequently in Seedland Provinces, but were a bit bigger in Cleavess, where the opposition already took half the province by late August. As it turned out, some of our own armed forces personnel had switched sides, increasing their odds against us by providing technical support and sensitive information.
They basically pounded us up inside and out. ANM—Armee Nationale Marronia—invaded, while the White Sword Liberators—WSL or Weasels as we called them—wreaked havoc from the inside. If the Weasels were a professional army, we’d be dead by now. These two happened almost simultaneously, with the Weasels starting to open fire on civilians and law enforcement alike only two days after the start of the invasion. The Army got pretty busy that week.
But here in Crawford—a small town just south of the city of Haier—things were a little more interesting. Crawford had got the best defense anyone around here can offer—the Grier Navy Headquarters. These bases proved to be one tough nut to crack. Problem is, there is this big airport lying right in-between our city borders with Haier. The Navy has an air base operating in conjunction with that airport, and airports are usually a target of high value.
The Marines and the Navy ground personnel were sucked into the fight defending the airport, and the rest of our forces were spread thin on urban combat. Don’t get me wrong, these men fought hard. But, there were concerns about the Marine’s ability to defend the airport against the relentless Weasels and the ANM.
My parents moved out of town when things got sour, right around the middle of April. They moved out to Windfeld, my father’s birthplace. That town was relatively safe at that time. They told me they’d stay there until things get better—or worse. I was still in Melville at that time—I was just getting out of college, for God’s sake—and they wanted to take me with them. I didn’t want to come, telling them I stayed with some friends. I maintained contact with several folks I know, especially old friends outside Melville, to keep me fed about current events. Until one day somehow, I was moved to go home to that abandoned house—and there was a little surprise for me there.
In Crawford and other smaller cities, the Weasels have gone haywire. They were supposed to fight the army alongside the invading force, but they decided to mess around; looting, terrorizing, harassing locals, you have it. My neighborhood was no exception, and they had wanted to fight back.
As things got worse, the military had these ideas of arming the civilians by forming their own security wing. They wanted them to be able to protect themselves, repelling any harassment from the Weasels. They formed small, local pockets of militia called the Civil Defense (or CivDef in short), using the army’s outdated weapons at first, then looting any Weasel member they managed to eliminate.
My neighbors joined; I didn’t. But I did feel like I needed to be able to defend myself. I found a .38 and some ammo my dad had left at home and I started carrying it. A few days later, there was an ambush set up by the CivDefs, and I volunteered to help even when I wasn’t one of them.
Pulling the trigger was quite hard as I was shaking. Had to do it with both hands to make it steadier. My palms also got wet from being nervous. “BANG!” I let out a shot. He fell on his butt. I pulled the trigger again on double action. “BANG!”, and there he was, like having a little seizure that stops after just 2 seconds. That was it. I killed a man. I finally got to taste blood.
A short firefight ensued. We managed to kill three more of them, fending off the low level Weasels from our neighborhood with just old rifles and a handgun. I figured those were low level fighters, as they were pretty disorganized—and there were only like seven of them. They’d been harrassing my neighborhood a few times before. Once we took up arms, they couldn’t stand a chance. The CivDefs then took their weapons and ammo, putting them for our own use against their previous owners.
I could hear pops and bangs every night, making sleep a little harder. Eerie, sometimes. It was kilometers away, but it felt like mere 50 yards. I’m telling you, though, when you started to get the hang of it, it began to sound like those podcasts that can bring you down to sleep. If that happens to you, then you start to not care. It’s actually kind of good to feel that way, as it leaves no burden. But not to be careless, still.
Within those days, I joined several anti-raid ambushes afterwards and scored a handful more kills myself. As it started growing on me, killing suddenly feels… not wrong. If a kill makes me uneasy about it, the distant battle sound calms me down every night. Sometimes, I wonder how Mom and Pop were doing just before falling asleep. I was out of their sight, but probably not out of their mind; at least hopefully.
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Two weeks later, I went back to Melville; and—along with several friends I contacted beforehand—volunteered to join a newly formed irregular force. They needed the manpower, so the military authorized it. In its wisdom, the military made the paramilitary to do rear duties, such as guards or drivers. All branches, land, sea, and air, opened recruitment for these new positions—and of all the service branches, we chose the Marines. They’d station us in Crawford after this, no doubt, as the battle for the air base was still raging.
They put all eleven of us in the same squad, a practice not unheard of in the military. They trained us, gave us weapons—older AG-1s, AG-2s and M16A1s, mostly—and old PASGT vests, made us attend classes, and everything. They didn’t give us uniforms aside from the vest and forest green patrol caps, however. We were just told to wear anything ranging between dark tan and olive green.
A month later, a Marine Major put out a request for a squad of the Irregular Reserves to be placed at his outpost back in Crawford. As luck would have it, we were the ones chosen. They gave us 6 hours to prepare, so we had time, though not much.
The officer who gave us the order to move out had told us the Major had left us a message: assign combat roles, something we’ve learned during training but never applied. It would make sense, since the Major’s compound is supposedly a little protruding beyond our own lines. However, the word was that opposing forces were quite far from where the Major’s compound is located, so we’re safe.
October 15th, 2014
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Thank You Note
Thank you for reading Recon: The Battle for Crawford! This was one of my many war story ideas, however only a few turned into a meaningful fruition, including this one. I usually draw instead of write, and this is my first ever completed writing. Like a lot of stories, it began with a “what if”. It did take inspiration behind an amalgamation of various historical wars involving irregular and paramilitary fighting and invading forces, such as the Vietnam War, Korean War, Russo-Georgian War of 2008, etc. The result was quite fun, with world-building (that had not yet been completed as of this publishing date) that takes ages to write and carefully spun-off historical events. I got to experiment with a lot of ideas for the storyline, and it turned out pretty good. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Cheers!
Glossary
2IC: Second in Command, i.e., assistant leader. AG-(number): Autorifle, Grieland (number of iteration). Locally developed service rifle.AK: Automatic Kalashnikov. Introduced in 1947, its design evolved into a wide variety of firearms. ALICE Gear: All-purpose Lightweight Individual Carrying Equipment. A setup of belts and pouches to carry ammunition and several other things an infantry might need.Bandolier: ammunition pouches sewn into belts or sling. Boobied: slang for booby-trapped Booby Trap: traps set up to maim or kill enemy soldiers. The term came from how it fools the enemy thinking it was safe, hence the term booby (=fool). C2: Command and Control center Cal.: slang/short for Caliber Carbine: short rifles.Company: a unit of soldiers consisting of roughly three to four platoons plus their commander Compound: a military encampment CP: Command Post det-cord: short for Detonation Cord. a type of explosive shaped like a cord to cut through various structuresDMR: Designa
Epilogue
I took Red to the casualty collection point near the temporary aid station. Blood was still dripping down her face. Q followed close behind, with Neil and Vic walking alongside her. That 50-meter trip felt like the longest walk I had ever walked my entire life. The fountain we passed by became crowded with wounded men as a temporary aid station was placed there. Bloomberg was reporting to Soko. Colonel Patterson was seen organizing the men, telling people where to go and stuff. I put Red down near the building on the east side of that fountain. A medic then approached us, asking whether or not he could’ve helped. After putting her down, I reached into one of her pockets to retrieve our gold pouch, figuring I would hold on to it, though I wasn’t sure what I’d do with it. Following her request, I also took Red’s leather-strapped watch off her wrist and pocketed it. I caressed her hair one last time before heading back to the rest of our squad. I’ll see you soon, I whispered.Near the f
The Last Push
“Vic, you got a couple of frags?” I asked, to which he responded by giving me two pineapple grenades. I pulled the pin on the grenades and let the spoon fly off before tossing it consecutively inside the house. I closed the door right after, containing the blast inside the room. Two loud thumps and a few screams later, I kicked the door down. We then opened fire towards the inside of the building, which turned out to be a bakery.“CLEAR!” I shouted after looking left, to which everyone responded by coming inside, with Bloomberg and Vic clearing the other rooms. I instructed Q to stay away from the windows and Neil to guard the entrance to the rear. I then took a good look at the enemies laying around and popped off a few rounds to make sure they’re dead. They were in uniform, and it’s the ANM. “Red,” I called out, “Marren troops,” “No, shit,” she exclaimed. “Where the hell are the rest of the Marines?” Yeah. Where the hell are the Marines? We’re sitting ducks here waiting for them
Surrounded
“GET THE HELL OUT OF THE STREETS! GO!” Soko commanded the rest of his men. “Get away from the windows! Mark!” Red instructed. The explosion then rang all around us, rattling windows and kicking dust. A few rounds landed really close to the building we were in—thankfully, none of those landed on top of us. The shelling lasted for only a couple minutes, but it surely scared the hell out of us. When it fell silent, we poked our heads out and looked out the windows. Most of the platoon seemed to be okay, and we got out to the streets again. Soko then told us to move across the intersection, then take the now empty machine gun nest and settle there.“We’ll stay here for the moment,” he said. Feeling too bunched up, he spread his men to cover more area. “Konan, take 1st squad and cover the intersection to the south. Hal, take the 2nd squad and face east. 3rd squad will cover our rear. They might be coming down on us really soon,” The platoon then took a little break from the fights, howe
Going out
“I thought you said we’re walking,” I said to Soko, who was getting the drivers ready. By 10.05, we were already out front, lining up for the vehicles we were boarding to head closer towards our objective. “I thought so, too,” he answered, “But the Colonel said we could use the vehicles halfway through. Didn’t want to tire this little lady over here,” he added, looking at Q. She grinned. Now, these trucks are big, and it could be a bullet magnet if we drive all the way up to the front. Besides, we’re supposed to be a surprise element. It makes sense if we were to be dropped halfway. “Oh, yeah. Tell your radio guy to leave his pack. I got one with me,” “Alright,” I said, “Neil!” I called him. “This is it, fellas,” Red announced up front, carrying a map of the area we were going to attack. “Everyone, check your equipment. Put your helmets on. Team leaders, gather around,” she waved at us.“Here we are, Red,”“Okay, here’s the deal. I want you guys to split into two sections at our en
The Father
8.00 am. Mufudzi was kneeling head slumped, mourning his deceased friend. Victor and Neil knelt beside him, as they had served together. With Benson gone, we’re down to only 12 men. That effectively makes Harrison’s team the only one with four men—a proper fire team. I mean, a team of three had sufficed so far, but four was the actual infantry standard. About an hour later, Soko gathered his sergeants—including us. Looks like a briefing, as we had just been under attack. I figured it’s about the plan to reconstruct the defense in case another attack comes, but I figured wrong.“Looks like we’re heading out. Not now, though. Word is we’ll take three blocks of housing complex about two kilometers towards the northwest of the Airport. Enemy activity in that area is still perceivably high, so take caution,” Soko briefed us. “Wait, just us?” Red frowned.“No, word is I’m going with you,” Soko explained, “but I’m not sure so don’t tell anyone yet,”“Are we gonna be on foot?” I asked. “I’
Rage
Out of anger, a few of the officers and NCOs took off to catch those three men, carrying only rifles. They had already gone into the tall grass towards the South at this point, and a few gunshots can be heard. An eager officer later, a handful of men had already run outside, carrying their rifles and what little ammunition they could immediately take with them. It soon erupted into a firefight, as they had been walking—or running, rather—straight into an ambush. They soon pull back, with the rest of them standing by near the outer fence providing cover. I turned my attention back to Red and Harrison. Red was kneeling beside the Major, putting her hand on the Major’s wound. Soko was both furious and panicking. “Fuck,” Soko exclaimed. “You guys get back to your men. I’ll handle the Major,” he said to crowding Marines.“What happened? I heard gunfire,” Kris asked while coming over towards us with the rest of the crew as we came near our quarters.“The Major was shot,” Red answered. “Wha
Guests
We then saw rolling dust moving in towards the gate. I hope it’s the rescue team returning, as I had left my rifle inside. As it closed in, the gate swung open and three intact vehicles came in. Well, that was quick. But hey, at least they’ve made it. We stood up and walked towards them, and saw the three survivors of the crash—or so I thought. They were all in uniform, although I don’t necessarily recognize them. They were armed as well, only minus armor vests. Look out, we got some hotshots over here. Soko and the Major welcomed them and had them debriefed. It turned out they were not survivors of the crash—they were Long Range Patrols, one of the branches of Army Special Forces. They might have run into the jeeps on their way back here. One of those spec-ops guys was taller than the others, and had strikingly messy hair—something unusual for soldiers, but I guess it’s fine since they’re SF. “Well shit, this base even has a hooker on board,” one of the three exclaimed, looking up