Ok so this is a story I've been working on for a loooong time now. This is my first story so be nice!
Enjoy, this is the first 3 chapters.(They're relatively short) BTW, I started this story when I was only about 10 years old.
Chapter 1
I was sleeping in my tent with my rifle against my shoulder. I didn’t know what it was at first, but a very bad hammering pain in my left knee awoke me abruptly.
I quickly opened my eyes and saw Captain Jackson kicking at my leg. “Stop that!” I barked at him. The kicking stopped, but he was still acting very annoying.
“I came into your tent to tell you to get your rifle and come out here now. Enemy troops are close by.” he said, somewhat panting. It took all of my strength to pull myself up to him and ask, “Sir, are the others up yet?”
“No,” he replied to me. “As Sergeant Major of this platoon, it’s your job to make sure the others are alert and ready, not mine.” He smiled a dirty smirk and walked out.
I gathered my rifle and the bullets that went in it, and slashed open my tent door with my hand. I searched the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. My eyes, playing as a pair of goggles that make your eyesight perfect, spotted Daniel Freemen walking out of his tent. I looked up to the vast, spacious, sky. I had no idea what the captain was talking about. It was so peaceful and quiet, with a couple of birds chirping here and there. Then, Freeman held his thigh as though he was in excruciating pain. I torpedoed over to him and interrogated, “What happened to your leg?”
“Oh, I just fell on it when I got up this morning. I must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed.” he said to us. He laughed for a minute and then kept walking around. I patrolled the area, looking for anything else that would wake me up.
“Captain, are you sure that what you saw were enemy troops?” I asked him tiredly, seeing that this morning could not have been more perfect. Without saying a word, he nodded. Then he cocked his head over to the side of the field and frowned.
“That’s strange,” he said disappointingly. “I don’t remember seeing a battalion of about 200 troops earlier this morning.” Unfortunately, since the sky was still slightly dark, I had no idea what he was talking about. He caught me looking and said, “Not that side, this side .” He called me a name (which I won’t repeat) and with his hands, he cocked my head into a position where I saw about 200 enemy soldiers 500 yards away.
“Tell everyone to wake up!” I commanded. “If they say no, tell them that they’re about to be killed by a marksman sniper if they don’t hurry which unfortunately, may actually happen.”
He, Freeman, and I all darted into everyone’s tent. After about one minute, everyone was out in the middle of the row of tents and ready to go. “Freeman!” I bellowed. “You take Captain Jackson and the other rookies out of here! I’ll take veterans and Lieutenant Anderson!”
All at one time, we rushed towards the ends of the fields and loaded our guns. As I was only at the age of 26, I could only carry so much weight, so I had a troublesome time getting over behind the dirt trench we had dug for protection. Suddenly, a bullet came raging through a tent, indicating that the battle of a lifetime had begun.
Chapter 2
I fired my rifle repeatedly until I ran out of ammo. I glanced over at Lieutenant Anderson and saw that he too was only cocking, not shooting. Even with all the gunfire piercing the air, I crawled over to him, thinking I’d be safe near a lieutenant.
“Lieutenant!” I hollered at the top of my lungs. “We need more firepower! Do you have any?” He glanced at me for a second and nodded his head, “no.” Suddenly, one of my men was shot and killed instantly. “Lieutenant!” I bellowed at him. “My men are going down! We’ve got to pull back before everyone’s dead!” A large boom shook the ground and rolled me over about 30 feet. I slowly crawled my way back to the dirt wall that we had been behind.
Another man was shot. This time, he wasn’t killed. Thankfully, the bullet had only skimmed his hair, and he didn’t feel a thing. (Except, he did get a really nice haircut).
I ordered my men to cease fire. The gunshots stopped, and my living men breathed a sigh of relief. Then, all at once as if someone had switched a peace sign from on to off, the shots pierced the air once again.
Two enemies, looking like they were very high in rank, were picking of all of my experienced soldiers. After about 20 minutes, everyone except for 5 veterans, Lieutenant Anderson and I were dead. (Or paralyzed and unconscious, making it extremely difficult to tell the difference). On the other divided platoon of men, they hadn’t lost any men. (It’s a wonder what rookies can do. Either those rookies were inexplicably good marksmen, or the enemies just didn’t like killing them.)
I, behind this “trench,” was having a wonderful time learning what dirt and blood look like together. (It ain’t a pretty sight, let me tell you).
Anyways, considering I hadn’t fired a shot for what seemed like an eternity, I found a full 7 magazines for my rifle off of an unconscious soldier and loaded them in. (1 of them, that is). A brisk, morning breeze filled the air, bringing relief to my men and I.
I attached my scope for the rifle and searched the area for enemy troops. (I was still behind the dirt trench, you see. MY scope was infrared and could sense heat through solid objects. Technology sure took a dramatic rise in 1942). I spotted one, and pulled the trigger. The bullet thrashed through the wall, striking the soldier and killing him instantly. I did the same for 19 others, and by the time my magazine had run out, half of the enemy battalion was dead. (My men had already killed a lot of enemies. There weren’t only 40 troops in the battalion).
I took a break of firing and dropped my rifle into the dirt. I looked over at my men and saw something that made my heart stop. Lieutenant Anderson was lying in the dirt unconscious. (Or dead)
Chapter 3
“Johnson! Help me take Lieutenant Anderson back to the base now!” I commanded over all the gunfire. Unfortunately, my speaking had drawn his attention over to me instead of the battle field. He died 2 minutes later.
“I have to stop distracting men from their work,” I thought to myself, “Or pretty soon I’ll be killed. I’ll just have to take him over myself.” Miraculously, all shots ceased as soon as I finished the thought. (Then, they started back up again, as always). I tried to radio in to the captain in the other half of the platoon, but all the gunfire and other radio chatter cut me off.
“Oh come on!” I complained , “There’s no way to get him back to the base before he dies!” Suddenly, a bullet struck my ankle.
“ Aaagggghhhhhhh!!!” I flared, with excruciating pain in my leg. My eyes flamed with fury, I wanted someone to take all the rage out on. Just then, I had an insane (and probably a suicidal- like) idea that popped into my mind: I would take my backup Thompson rifle and fire 3 magazines aimlessly into the field (not at my men, of course).
So I did just that. Unfortunately, war can really mess up your mind sometimes and make you decide very stupidly on important decisions. (So can smoking and drinking, but…)
The instant I ran out there, bullets and even grenades flew at me like a toddler throwing toys to the ground. Just inches away sometimes, the grenades exploded and the bullets skimmed me. Losing consciousness (thanks to the striking of my ankle), I hurled myself towards the base. That jump probably saved my life.
What do you guys think? I will take all constructive criticism and I will continue at your requests. Thanks!