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Modern Trench Warfare
Posted By: Postman<fat_mammal@hotmail.com>
Date: 16 October 2003, 2:45 AM
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Postmans note: What can I say? World War I fascinates me.
The sky was stained a pale yellow. Overhead, covenant warships sent an array of chemical warheads screaming into what the marines would lovingly refer to as the modern day trenches. The ground shook vilolently, and all was unclear for a brief few moments. A deep thundering was all the shock from the blast could leave in my ears.
In the distance, I can see ONI warships landing the spec. ops troops.
Men around me fumbled around blindly, no doubt fallen prey to the covenants newest developments in chemical warfare.
The sirens wailed as marines poured out of their bunkers in responce to the unanticipated attack. Such was a day in the life of a trench monkey. But let's back up a second...
When the war first began, we were promised glory and respect. The media depicted our struggle as a walk in the park. That, and citizenship, was enough to coax gullible old me into joining up. Too late did I learn the absolute truth.
Myself, and some friends from my high school back home were all placed in a hole in some moon whose name I can't even pronounce. We live in bunkers connected via trenches in the wet mudland of covenant territory. The atmospheric conditions force us to wear oxygen masks and breathers when not indoors. The covenant use this place to test their new weapons. It's exactly why we're here, actually. To take their position and find out what we can.
Well, two months later I'm still dug deep into my own shit, and it's getting grim. Life expectancly is low, and so is morale. You'd think the generals who plan these attacks had never picked up a history text book.
Our mission is suicide. Our reward is death. Life sucks, and so does business.
When we're not on guard duty or organizing raids deep into the covenant territory, we march to keep in shape. The trenches now stretch a few miles in each direction, so combat is almost preferable.
Now I wake up, struggling to remember whats going on. I take a look around, and my worst fears are confirmed. Several Elites are now pushing their way into the trenches. A brutal melee battle takes place in front of me, leaving the marine who was my seargent dead in a bloody mess. I try to heave myself off the ground, but it's no use. I examine my leg, which I now realize is broken in at least two places.
The barking of a near by grunt draws my attention. I squeeze the trigger of my assault rifle and fire a few rounds in it's head. To my surprise, the body explodes. From beyond the smoke, I see a squad of hopeful marines coming my way. They help me to my feet, and I am able to pull myself together. The reality of the covenant being so close is almost unreal. I focus.
Now we move through the trenches. A medic has braced my leg, and I can limp at a fairly low pace. A flaw, only realized as we are ambushed by a team of elites and jackals. The men next to me screams, and is engulfed in a ball of flame and the covenant push toward us, plasma grenades flying here and there.
Cover is found within a near by communications bunker, and we seal the door. It's only likely to hold for another few minutes, but is should leave us enough time to call for reinforcement.
One of my saviors taps a string of the purple and blue buttons.
"Bravo outpost, this is whiskey. The trenches have been compromised. We are facing multiple covenant!"
A short burst followed by the screams of bravo is all that folows. A glance at the security monitors reveals little resistance on our side. Covenant are now moving through the trenches and killing the survivors. There are five of us left, and the door is not likely to hold up forever.
I let my mind drift, briefly. Thoughts of back home offer some comfort. My girl. My old room. Friday nights in the city.
Of course, the door bursting open is a grim reminder of... well, where I am. Caught in the middle of it all. The medic, who is nearest to the door, is sent flying in two pieces. An elite charges in, but is brought down by the firepower from our side.
We allow the smoke to clear, when three plasma grenades hurl through the arch. I dive for cover, and I can feel the shrapnel embed itself in my arms. I am now completely immobile. A grunt lowers his head and sniffs at my ass. So this must be what death is like. It could be worse, I suppose.
More gas seeps into the bunker from the skies above, but I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. I fact, I'm rather calm. The grunt raises his plasma pistol. I am optimistic. Bring it on, I think to myself.
But he never does. Instead, I feel nothing. Perplexed, I look up only to see my savior. A man clad in green armour, complete with a shield and combat mask. Covenant are nowhere to be found. A quick look around shows a room full of dead friends. But what happened? And just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone. Back into the night.
And then it all becomes clear. ONI's involvement, that man, the unsettling similarities between this and the first great war.
We're here to die for the sake of the spartans. So they can grow up with a harsher sense of reality in battle. Or maybe I'm dilirious with pain. Yes, that is far more likely than ONI orchestrated attacks on the UNSC.
...
Either way, I'm not sure what to make of all this.
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