Chapter’s one & two of: Battle of Iowa Short story.
CHAPTER 1 – The beginning.
It is nightime, the constant sound of turbines keep me awake, the vest I’m wearing puts a constant strain on my back, the helmet blurs my vision. My comrades beside me, are checking their weapons, cocking it back, unloading and reloading, pretending to fire at a paper target. Some are warming up, jogging in place, often falling when the AC-130 hits turbulance. Grenades are kept in a box to prevent “incidents,” in which happened many times due to idiots.
My name is Sergent Allan. I’ve been in the war for two years, the trauma of war takes the effect on a man, its happened to everyone. We are currently on route to Iowa, in which an gangwar of a epic scale is taking place. The town is full of two rival gangs, in which the leaders have been assinated by an unknown assilant. Without any leaders, a civil war began within, then traveled between the gangs. The local police were soon overrun, and the morale of the volunteer law force is lower then ever.
I am knocked back as an guided missle tried to knock out the airship. The AC-130’s laser defence system takes out the missle, but it isn’t as reliable as dodging. The plane takes a turn back to its normal route. I looked out the window, and found the source of the missle. I mounted the 55mm cannon and fired in that direction. I then stubled back down.
I decided to check my weapon, which was conviently placed in my woodland backpack. I drew the weapon, switched on the safety and examined it. My weapon was TAR-21. a bullip typed weapon, with an electronic holographic sight. It also mounted an under-barrel M203 grenade launchers for taking out small encampments. I grabbed a magazine the box next to me, and inserted into the butt of the weapon. I also grabbed an grenade shell and inserted it into the under-barrel. I put the weapon neatly into the backpack to prevent incidents.
After some time, I decided to gaze out the place. Dusk was taking place, and boy did the sun look beautiful. It was a shame that the beautiful look was about to be ruined. I looked out the window, and I saw a small skirmish of what seemed to be the national guard and another odd group. A soldier walked up to me, “Can I go help them, Sir?” My comrade, Private Mike asked.
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