Knootoss
09-09-2005, 09:57
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Southern Syskeyia
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A Reich sniper scope followed something green moving in the high grass. Pieces of uniform showed and the greenery parted and shook against the wind as if something crawled forward in the southern Syskeyian grasslands.
Moments after it had been spotted, the movement was gone, but to the shooter it reappeared two minutes later next to an abandoned farm. It was dark green and darted quickly behind a haystack. The Asiatic sun warmed the soft wind, causing the scope to drift.
The sniper scope zoomed in, the arm carrying the gun steadying itself for the kill.There was another movement from behind the haystack, the trigger relaxed and a bullet spurred itself to a target about two kilometres away, a shot resounded over the plains, followed by a scream of agony.
Reich soldiers rushed down the hillside towards the farm, the rushed prayers of a young man in uniform meeting them. The lad had pulled himself up, lying against the haystack on his back, sweat was dripping down his fuzzy blonde hair, his eyelids covering his hazel-brown eyes as he prayed.
"Please, Father, help me, save me a place by your side," he muttered to himself in Dutch before looking up into the foreign faces of the enemy…
***
The nearby forest of Saint Sebastian was dark, and the night was moonless. Small animals chirped in the evening air, the soft winds still blowing across the grassy plains around it.
The steel blue eyes of a tall man penetrated the darkness. He sat on the stump of a tree, smoking amidst a band of dirty young soldiers. He wore an old Colonels uniform, covered in patches of mud and had not shaved several days. Unnaturally clean patches had been stitched on his sleeves to signify a Syskeyian military rank, but everyone in the small team of Knootian volunteers had grown to call their quiet but enigmatic leader ‘the Colonel’ as they had journeyed separately from the main, organised Syskeyian and allied military forces.
“Tomorrow the attack begins”, he said as he tossed his cigarette on the forest floor and put it out with his mud-stained boot, “But tonight, we fight.”
“Finally friends! A chance to prove us against our satanic foe! What Reich abominations has God put in our way?”, one of the young enthusiasts sitting before him on the forest floor eagerly exclaimed.
“He forgot to tell us”, the Colonel said cynically, grabbing a small portable computer. As he tapped in a code, a projection of a tactical map flickered up in the darkness. His group gathered round him. “But here is our situation nonetheless. Reich forces along this line have been retreating to this series of small hills here directly west of us, fighting a fierce rear-guard battle and dealing some nasty damage to the Syskeyian division we met the day before yesterday. The damage they did was so extensive that the attack on the Reich line on this hill has been postponed one day as they bring in the reserves. This gives the Reich time to dig in. This is why our team has been ordered to disrupt their infantry strongpoint on Hill 305… here… and destroy the forward ammunitions depot located there. The area is heavily protected by anti-air guns so we will not have air support. Instead, private Brugmans will do our explosives, Dekkers and Gies povide cover. Meulmans is point man…”
“What’ve they got, Colonel?”, one of the older volunteers asked. “This Syskeyian map isn’t the very… uhm, informative, Sir.”
“That was what I sent Jeremy to find out last night,” the Colonel said with a grim expression. “He has not returned, and by now we can only assume that he is dead.”
“God rest his soul”, several people muttered as shocked faces formed on the small group. The Colonel waited, holding the projection steady as most in the group engaged in a silent prayer.
“Gentlemen, if we are all ready?”, the Colonel asked impatiently. “Here is the plan…”
***
“Colonel?”
“What is it Meulmans?”, was the gruff reply from the former officer as he put away the binoculars. He had obviously been spying at the small hill in front of them, outside the forest across the grassland. Anyone else would probably have been sent away, but the thirty-something year old man crawling towards him was an experienced fighter, unlike most under his command.
“I was wondering, Sir, about our chances for this mission?”, the man asked tentatively, “I’m no expert, but infiltrating an unknown camp with only a map to guide us is suicide. Surely the command would never have meant for us to throw away our lives”, he sighed, “Can we not message back to postpone the mission? If we continue this we will all be dead before the sun rises.”
“No Meulmans”, the Colonel replied coldly as he returned his stare to the hill ahead of them while speaking as if the case had been closed. “We have to do this tonight.”
“With all due respect, this is the worst possible team for the job, Sir. The young ones are too exited and inexperienced, and the experienced ones are too afraid… not with the most elite special forces of the Peace Corps could we do this”, Meulmans whispered insistently.
"You’ve seen battle, Sergeant. You should know. Facing this danger is like meeting an old friend to me. And you…" he turned his head to look at the soldier behind him, his steel blue eyes piercing him. “Jeremy was your friend, wasn’t he? They killed your friend - even if the bell tolls for us tonight you will get your revenge…”
“We are not here for revenge, Sir”, the private said softly as he crouched to take up a position next to the colonel. “We are here to help our fellow man”, he looked compassionately at the man beside him. “If I may speak freely, why are you here, Sir?”
The cold in the steel-blue eyes weakened for a moment.
“I have my reasons to fight the Reich”, he said slowly. “We all do. Some wounds never heal and they have done things I cannot forgive. Things worse then any of those young soldiers behind us can ever imagine.” He moved his head in the direction of the young Knootian Catholics who were polishing their guns deeper in the forest while talking quietly amongst themselves, observing them in contemplation.
“There are some things no one can forgive” he said after a while. “You don’t need to understand. I’m on your side, and I am your superior officer.”
“Sir…”, Meulmans began slowly, “the Bible teaches us that we are all sinners in need of God's forgiveness. Reich or Knootian or Syskeyian, it does not matter. Jesus was wounded for our transgressions; only with his stripes we are healed."
"Stop your Bible-thumping and start preparing for combat.”, the Colonel replied angrily. “Run away if you’re afraid, go back with your young friends away from the war and I will do this mission alone.”
“I will stay with you Sir…”
“Don’t worry, Meulmans”, the steel-blue eyes had turned soft. “I will not be a hero unless I die here, somewhere, but you have something to go back to. There will be no unnecessary risks.”
***
Hill 305 looked imposing from down below, a dark edge in the landscape with blocky structures atop which were surely unnatural. Even though Syskeyians would only think of the hill as a slight slope in the landscape, a hill like that in Knootoss would be referred to as a ‘mountain’. Then again, Knootian standards were not all that high.
Following the small patches of greenery, the Knootian team crawled closer to their destination, following a path the Colonel had plotted out for them which provided reasonable cover and which allowed the team to remain unseen for as long as possible. Little did they know that a Reich sniper scope followed something green moving in the high grass…
Southern Syskeyia
----------------------
A Reich sniper scope followed something green moving in the high grass. Pieces of uniform showed and the greenery parted and shook against the wind as if something crawled forward in the southern Syskeyian grasslands.
Moments after it had been spotted, the movement was gone, but to the shooter it reappeared two minutes later next to an abandoned farm. It was dark green and darted quickly behind a haystack. The Asiatic sun warmed the soft wind, causing the scope to drift.
The sniper scope zoomed in, the arm carrying the gun steadying itself for the kill.There was another movement from behind the haystack, the trigger relaxed and a bullet spurred itself to a target about two kilometres away, a shot resounded over the plains, followed by a scream of agony.
Reich soldiers rushed down the hillside towards the farm, the rushed prayers of a young man in uniform meeting them. The lad had pulled himself up, lying against the haystack on his back, sweat was dripping down his fuzzy blonde hair, his eyelids covering his hazel-brown eyes as he prayed.
"Please, Father, help me, save me a place by your side," he muttered to himself in Dutch before looking up into the foreign faces of the enemy…
***
The nearby forest of Saint Sebastian was dark, and the night was moonless. Small animals chirped in the evening air, the soft winds still blowing across the grassy plains around it.
The steel blue eyes of a tall man penetrated the darkness. He sat on the stump of a tree, smoking amidst a band of dirty young soldiers. He wore an old Colonels uniform, covered in patches of mud and had not shaved several days. Unnaturally clean patches had been stitched on his sleeves to signify a Syskeyian military rank, but everyone in the small team of Knootian volunteers had grown to call their quiet but enigmatic leader ‘the Colonel’ as they had journeyed separately from the main, organised Syskeyian and allied military forces.
“Tomorrow the attack begins”, he said as he tossed his cigarette on the forest floor and put it out with his mud-stained boot, “But tonight, we fight.”
“Finally friends! A chance to prove us against our satanic foe! What Reich abominations has God put in our way?”, one of the young enthusiasts sitting before him on the forest floor eagerly exclaimed.
“He forgot to tell us”, the Colonel said cynically, grabbing a small portable computer. As he tapped in a code, a projection of a tactical map flickered up in the darkness. His group gathered round him. “But here is our situation nonetheless. Reich forces along this line have been retreating to this series of small hills here directly west of us, fighting a fierce rear-guard battle and dealing some nasty damage to the Syskeyian division we met the day before yesterday. The damage they did was so extensive that the attack on the Reich line on this hill has been postponed one day as they bring in the reserves. This gives the Reich time to dig in. This is why our team has been ordered to disrupt their infantry strongpoint on Hill 305… here… and destroy the forward ammunitions depot located there. The area is heavily protected by anti-air guns so we will not have air support. Instead, private Brugmans will do our explosives, Dekkers and Gies povide cover. Meulmans is point man…”
“What’ve they got, Colonel?”, one of the older volunteers asked. “This Syskeyian map isn’t the very… uhm, informative, Sir.”
“That was what I sent Jeremy to find out last night,” the Colonel said with a grim expression. “He has not returned, and by now we can only assume that he is dead.”
“God rest his soul”, several people muttered as shocked faces formed on the small group. The Colonel waited, holding the projection steady as most in the group engaged in a silent prayer.
“Gentlemen, if we are all ready?”, the Colonel asked impatiently. “Here is the plan…”
***
“Colonel?”
“What is it Meulmans?”, was the gruff reply from the former officer as he put away the binoculars. He had obviously been spying at the small hill in front of them, outside the forest across the grassland. Anyone else would probably have been sent away, but the thirty-something year old man crawling towards him was an experienced fighter, unlike most under his command.
“I was wondering, Sir, about our chances for this mission?”, the man asked tentatively, “I’m no expert, but infiltrating an unknown camp with only a map to guide us is suicide. Surely the command would never have meant for us to throw away our lives”, he sighed, “Can we not message back to postpone the mission? If we continue this we will all be dead before the sun rises.”
“No Meulmans”, the Colonel replied coldly as he returned his stare to the hill ahead of them while speaking as if the case had been closed. “We have to do this tonight.”
“With all due respect, this is the worst possible team for the job, Sir. The young ones are too exited and inexperienced, and the experienced ones are too afraid… not with the most elite special forces of the Peace Corps could we do this”, Meulmans whispered insistently.
"You’ve seen battle, Sergeant. You should know. Facing this danger is like meeting an old friend to me. And you…" he turned his head to look at the soldier behind him, his steel blue eyes piercing him. “Jeremy was your friend, wasn’t he? They killed your friend - even if the bell tolls for us tonight you will get your revenge…”
“We are not here for revenge, Sir”, the private said softly as he crouched to take up a position next to the colonel. “We are here to help our fellow man”, he looked compassionately at the man beside him. “If I may speak freely, why are you here, Sir?”
The cold in the steel-blue eyes weakened for a moment.
“I have my reasons to fight the Reich”, he said slowly. “We all do. Some wounds never heal and they have done things I cannot forgive. Things worse then any of those young soldiers behind us can ever imagine.” He moved his head in the direction of the young Knootian Catholics who were polishing their guns deeper in the forest while talking quietly amongst themselves, observing them in contemplation.
“There are some things no one can forgive” he said after a while. “You don’t need to understand. I’m on your side, and I am your superior officer.”
“Sir…”, Meulmans began slowly, “the Bible teaches us that we are all sinners in need of God's forgiveness. Reich or Knootian or Syskeyian, it does not matter. Jesus was wounded for our transgressions; only with his stripes we are healed."
"Stop your Bible-thumping and start preparing for combat.”, the Colonel replied angrily. “Run away if you’re afraid, go back with your young friends away from the war and I will do this mission alone.”
“I will stay with you Sir…”
“Don’t worry, Meulmans”, the steel-blue eyes had turned soft. “I will not be a hero unless I die here, somewhere, but you have something to go back to. There will be no unnecessary risks.”
***
Hill 305 looked imposing from down below, a dark edge in the landscape with blocky structures atop which were surely unnatural. Even though Syskeyians would only think of the hill as a slight slope in the landscape, a hill like that in Knootoss would be referred to as a ‘mountain’. Then again, Knootian standards were not all that high.
Following the small patches of greenery, the Knootian team crawled closer to their destination, following a path the Colonel had plotted out for them which provided reasonable cover and which allowed the team to remain unseen for as long as possible. Little did they know that a Reich sniper scope followed something green moving in the high grass…