THE RECONNAISSANCE MARINE
Courage, Strength and the completion of the mission at all costs, even to the last man. Honor came last. If you where standing after the OP was completed, and the men in your team were alive, the OP was successful. Everybody comes home, everybody.
Kind of hard to say this, but I am expendable. My soul purpose in this world is to make sure every mission is completed. And with a high hostile body count.
There’s nothing like a mission that goes sour.
We were called in, Bravo two-two, my old unit. Our Mission objective was to take out an ex-CIA spook that was now in bed with the cocaine cowboys. Our orders where simple, get in, take out the objective, and slip out to the extraction site. Boy were we in for some real serious shit.
We completed our insertion, five clicks, south-by-south-east. The eight of us made our way to the villa. It was dark, but the moon was full. Our Night specs highlighted everything in a green hue, which made humping the jungle a walk in the park.
Our point man moved the team closer to the villa. We came across a couple patrols, but our ghillie suits helped us blend in to the jungle like chameleons. They didn’t even know we where there. It would have been so easy to cut their throats. The thought of blood, rolling down my hands, as I brought the knife from ear to ear and the blood-curling gurgle, made my thirst for the hunt more compelling.
We finally reached the villa. We moved in to setup our security teams so the primary team could take out the objective. Then, we were compromised, and all hell broke loose. Our team leader gave us orders over the TACcoms — beat feet to Rally point alpha. I was moving around a corner and ran eye to eye with a hostile, I stuck my suppressed M4 into his chest and squeezed off a burst. He went down, I smirked behind my camouflaged mask of face paint. Sweat trickled from my brow and then into my eyes, my partner tapped me on the shoulder and signaled with his hands to move forward.
As I moved forward, a man came out of one of the rooms ahead. From his facial features, I knew this was the objective. I brought my weapon up and squeezed the trigger. The objective went down as I riddled the spook with lead. I turned on my heel and reloaded. My partner took my place and emptied his weapon into the objective and followed suit. I slammed another magazine into my weapon and jacked a fresh round.
What was odd was that, after I reloaded, the hostile I dropped not more than a minute ago was rising. I depressed my trigger and sent a burst into his chest, but the bastard didn’t go down. My partner got into it as well. We both looked at each other in confusion because we haven’t seen shit like this since Fallujah, where there were no shortage of hajjis hopped up on amphetamines. I set my eotech on the crook of his nose and busted his grape. Finally, the bastard went down. From behind me, my partner screamed. I looked back and what I saw struck terror in me. The spook we riddled with lead had ripped his throat out and was eating it. I stood there and watched — for how long, I have no idea. I stepped back and the thing looked up at me. From what I could see through my night specs, its eyes where clear white. At that point, I knew this bastard was dead. I turned and ran. I ran for a long time. All I knew was, I had to get as far away from that thing as possible.
Heh, I wish I could forget all that has happened, but I know I will never forget those eyes. Those lifeless eyes . . .
“Get some, get some! I got some lead for you and all your hommies, come and get it mother fuckers!”