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I hate my combat rig. There, I fuckin said it. It's not that it doesn't fit, it does. It's not that it's not comfortable to wear, it most certainly is. It's not that it's heavy, it's by no definition heavy. But what it is, is claustrophobic, and you won't find a single man or woman who wears one in service of their country who doesn't agree with me. You can sleep 12 hours a night in a Rubbermaid box for all I care, but the Rigs will eventually start to feel a little tight. And since I hadn't been able to change or clean it for almost 4 days now, there wasn't a lot of rest on the way from one combat site to another. The Ranger at the wheel of the Humvee I was riding in told me it would be at least a 10 minute ride, which wasn't going to take long to pass. As it started to snow and get dark out, the temperature fell, which meant the heating elements came on, at least for most of my friends, I never rode the full trip any where with my helmet on.

“Feeling okay there Alex?”, Trent asked.

“I'm tired, hungry, thirsty and cold”, I said, “no, I'm not feeling okay. I don't know how you manage to stay so positive all the damn time brother.”

“Come on Alex”, Trent shrugged, “you saw how I lived growing up, you saw the constant shit my old man had to work through just to keep food on the table for my Mom and I.”

“Yeah no offense Trent, but your old man was a dumbass”, I told him, “he could have taken all of you all out of that nasty ass part of town, yet he stayed. Could have gone to work for my Grandfather, I know he offered five or six times.”

“It's an honor thing Alex”, Trent said, “it's more common in my family than you think.”

“Yeah, well don't pull that shit on me”, I said, “someone got something I can snack on? I'm fucking starving.”

“I've got some Cheetos Field Marshal”, a Younger ranger in the back seat said tapping me on the shoulder with a bag, “I was saving them till after the battle, but you can have them if you want.”

“Thanks kid”, I smiled reaching back and accepting them, “I'll pay you back when this shit's over.”

“It was only a dollar”, he shrugged, “I can get another bag easily enough.”

“I pay all of my debts kid”, I said.

“It's not a debt Marshal”, The kid shrugged.

“Don't argue brother”, Nitro laughed, “once Alex get's an idea in his head that's it.”

“Will all due respect Captain, you should address the Marshal by his rank and not his first name.”

“At ease Corporal”, I laughed, “the Captain is a good friend. I like the way you conduct yourself, what's you're name?”

“Danny”, the kid said, “Danny Creedmor.”

“Have you seen Combat yet?”, I asked.

“Yes Marshal”, Danny said, “several times.”

“Then for the foreseeable future, you'll be taking orders from me. When we disembark, find a guy named Morrow, should be in the Humvee right behind us, civilian clothes, he is your new best friend. He'll do what ya tell him, but make sure the two of you keep your heads down, I've seen enough dead kids these past few weeks to last more than a few lifetimes.”

“Yes sir”, Danny said.

“Don't call me sir”, I joked securing my helmet to my rig, “I work for a living.”

“That's what army people say”, Trent laughed nudging Danny, “Alex rips it apart every chance he gets.”

“AO in five!”, a Ranger announced over the radio as every channel lit up with all kinds of traffic, both friend and foe.

“Overlord this is Hunter 3-3, my unit is pinned down on the west side of the Arcadia bridge and my bridge layer is taking too much damage to continue work, requesting additional ground and air support be patched to my location, how copy?”

“Solid copy Hunter 3-3, additional ground forces are inbound with heavy and light armor plus 66 additional foot mobiles. Be advised, all air support is tied up at this time minus one asset, patching you through now.”

“Hunter 3-3, Punisher 1-1, flight of three Warthogs in bound, time to target in 6.2 mikes, full combat load, holding pattern Charlie Foxtrot, how copy?”

“Punisher 1-1, target is a shit brown 7 story apartment complex 75 yards on the right from my strobe marked position, we will be painting, repeat, we will be painting, I need you to level that building.”

“Punisher 1-1 copies your last”, the man flying the Hog answered, “6 mikes to target, stay alive Hunter 3.”

“Sounds like we're rolling into the AO hot”, Nitro commented over the radio as I checked the magazine in my Ar-15, “good, I could use a real fight.”

“And I could use a fresh, hand tossed pizza”, Trent said.

“Shut the hell up”, Nitro said, “that's an order.”

“You can't give me an order we're the same rank”, Trent answered.

“Got me there Captain”, Nitro shrugged.

“Hunter 3-3, King one, relay from Titan 1, you've got an enemy helicopter loaded for bear approaching your area along with two Viper Tanks and 100+ UWR foot mobiles.”

“These guys gotta be comin from the School”, the Ranger on Hunter 3's end of the radio said, “Overlord, request permission to move on the Arcadia School once vicinity is clear.”

“Uhh, run that up to Marshal West when he arrives at the scene.”

“Marshal West is en route to the AO?”, the ranger asked.

“Rodger that Hunter 2-3”, I said, “leading the charge, arrival in 1.2 mikes.”

“Awesome”, the ranger said, “your help is greatly appreciated Marshal.”

“Thank me once we have the town”, I told him, “king one out.”

A minute later, the Humvee pulled to a stop behind a side ways tank that was facing the other side of the river. The UWR was dug in hard in an apartment building across the street with rifles in every window and Mg-42's scattered around. The helicopter was already here, and I could see the outlines of the viper tanks on my radar, the predator painting a clear picture of the situation, two evenly matched armies at each other's throats like a bunch of angry kids, same shit, different day.

“Seems like that's my catch phrase nowadays”, I said over my team's private channel, “Tier X, these puppets don't know we've shown our faces, let's do what we do best.”

“Ghost some fuckers”, Jack answered, “usual teams?”

“Rog”, I said, “Time to work Tier X. Danny, Morrow, you boys join your fellow rangers and protect that bridge layer till our Hogs arrive, keep your heads down. Morrow, you take order's from Danny, do what he tells you.”

“Yes sir”, Morrow replied as they exited the Humvee. My friends and I dismounted. Me, Trent and Shelby went towards a thick bunch of trees on the left side of the bridge, while Jack, James and Nitro went to the right near a burned out UWR S-40 Tank. We crept into the grass and I pulled my M2 Garand off my back and loaded a round into the chamber while Trent took out this wicked pair of binos that was essentially a glorified heartbeat sensor and Shelby flipped up the scope on her M4.

“What do you see Trent?”, I asked changing the pattern on my Rig from Mojave to Jungle.

“Count 52 tangos in the apartment building with rifles and another 5 on 42's”, Trent said, “Take out the 42's first.”

“I got the one in the furthest left hand side on the first story”, Shelby said.

“Third story window, second one on the right after the split in the complex”, Nitro said.

“Fifth floor, right most window is mine”, Jack said.

“Jack and I will take the two adjacent gunners on the fourth floor”, James said.

“Then the fucker on the roof is mine”, I said, slowly exhaling to steady my aim, “fire in 3, 2, 1.”

You couldn't hear the sounds of our weapons over the song of the battlefield, but the rip of the 42's suddenly falling silent couldn't go un noticed. I could see a robot on the UWR's side of things drop behind sandbags as soon as the 42's fell silent, and through the sight on my M2, I saw him survey his surroundings. It didn't take me long to figure out what he was up to.

“Give me a reason you pile of junk”, I thought to myself as my finger slowly began to depress the trigger, “come on, just look this way.”

It didn't take long for the piece of scrap to do just that. He traced the flight path of my round and pulled a grenade out of his vest to chuck it and the second I saw the top of the frag I sent the round, nailing him right through the face. The bot dropped to the ground and I half expected him to get back up, as I was certain I'd missed the CPU, but I either hadn't, and he was playing dead to avoid being shot again, or I'd hit my mark.

“Check one blue anodized combat robot near the furthest left hand side first story window”, I said on the radio, “Jack, he looks like he's playing dead, can you confirm?”

“He's toast”, Jack said as the unmistakable chopping of rotor blades filled the air, “chopper's here, Alex, get on the Predator and junk it.”

“Rog”, I said swiping open the UI on the drone. From the elevation, the chopper was a bit more than a white spec, but still large enough to put a missile on. I dropped the AGM from the drone and manually flew it towards the Jackal that was positioning for a strafe on the Bridge layer and the Rangers at our end of the bridge. My flying was spot on, but a holographic touch pad on your visor and arm isn't exactly as good as the joystick in the best helicopter to ever fly, and the missile missed by barely six inches, slamming itself into the ground directly in front of the UWR strong hold. The Jackal then went on it's strafe, junking our Humvee's and one of the LAV's and killing about 12 rangers, but my second missile didn't miss. I connected with the top of the Jackal's fuselage and broke the chopper into about a million pieces, and at the same time UWR radio chat went absolutely ballistic.

“Strat com, enemy predator drone has taken out Granite 1, I need air support now.”

“Negative”, a man with a thick Austrian accent said over the UWR's radio, “all available air assets are tied up at this time, however, additional ground units are en route to your position at this time.”

“Spider 1 this is Obsidian 5, guns up and ready for targets”, a Russian man said over the radio, likely one of the UWR Viper tanks that had arrived with the choppers.

“Drop some rounds on the American bridge layer across the river”, the commando ordered.

“Rodger, Obsidian 4 this is Obsidian 5, Target is a Mk-331 bridge layer across the river, vector sierra alpha foxtrot, bearing 223, 3 levels volley fire.”

“Okay Obsidian 5, Rodger”, another Russian guy answered.

I saw the Viper tanks move to target the bridge layer, as I opened the radio to alert the crew, I heard the warthog pilot make a call as the planes came into ear shot.

“Hunter 3, Scar 2-3, flight of three warthogs, BDA to follow.”

“Scar 2-3, new targets new targets!”, the Ranger said, “take out the Viper tanks! If they destroy that bridge layer my men and I are swimming Hooah!?”

“Hooah”, the Pilot said as the Warthogs changed course and did a run against the Viper tanks, which wasted no time in fighting back.

“Spider 1 we're taking heat, can ya keep the hogs off us?”

“Ahh”, the commando stuttered, “does anyone have a C-TAC's launcher?!?”

“Nitro drop some frags on these guys across the river!”, I ordered as I pulled back the bolt on my M2 and pressed a button on the side. Thanks to the genuineness of someone over at Flashpoint Firearms, the M1 Garand had been returned to service by the US Army at the start of WW3. While it was still slinging those big ass .30-06 rounds, and the mechanics hadn't changed, a ten round clip and an updated design allowed the clip and unspent ammo to be ejected early, though the unspent bullets would fly everywhere. I rolled onto my side and pulled a fresh clip out of my vest, loaded it into my rifle and clicked the chamber closed, turning to look at Shelby as she tapped me on my shoulder.

“They see us?”, I asked as a bullet hit just barely an inch in front of my face.

“Yeah they're shootin back now”, Shelby said putting three rounds downrange, “we need to move.”

Shelby stood up and started to move back as I tapped Trent's shoulder, “compromised, we gotta move.”

Trent quickly tucked away his binos and stood up. The three of us exited the bush as the Warthogs came back around, “All units, all units, Strike on original target in bound, time to strike in 20 seconds.”

“Hey isn't this danger close for the task force?”, Trent asked as we climbed up on a tank.

“Come on, since when does my old man give two shits about danger close?”, I asked.

“Hey Captain”, one of the rangers asked Trent, “I was keeping my head down when the strike was called in, which building is it?”

“That shit brown one across the river.”

The ranger took a cell phone out of his rig and started recording while Morrow and Danny limped over to the tank. They both had a few holes in their Rigs, but otherwise looked okay. They joined us on the tank and sat down, sounding rather winded.

“You boys okay?”, Trent asked.

“I took a few hits”, Morrow said, “none of them made it through my armor, which building is it?”

“The shit brown one”, Trent said as the Warthogs flew in, decimating the apartment buildings in a cloud of nasty looking brown dust. The Rangers started to cheer as the leader of Hunter 3 got on the radio once again.

“Overlord this is Hunter 3, relay from Titan One, enemy's have established a field HQ in the Arcadia school and the artillery is stationed out of the back, Marshal West has granted permission to move on the school, We're rollin' out now.”

“Rodger that Hunter 3”, Overlord said, “King One be advised, the Predator's getting low on fuel and has to return to base, chopping an AH-87 Apache Longbow to provide close air support, ETA in 15 minutes.”

“Rodger that, King One copies your last, out. RANGERS! Let's move out!!”

“HOOAH!”, the rangers shouted as the convoy crossed the bridge, diving straight into a cloud of dust left behind from the building, providing perfect cover for the UWR to launch a counter attack.

“Can you see anything sir?”, Morrow asked.

“I got nothing dude”, I said quietly, the only thing I could hear were diesel engines and the chattering of tank tracks, “this place is dead.”

“Field Marshal, are we cleared to engage contacts?”, Hunter 3's commander asked.

“If they're wearing UWR uniforms then kill at discretion, otherwise don't fire unless fired upon, I don't want the people we're trying to save getting caught up in this mess.”

“Rodger”, the commander said.

I switched out my M2 for my AR. The tank rolled through town with no resistance, which scared the hell outta me, the UWR would never let us take this much ground unless they were leading us into a trap. I surveyed my surroundings carefully, looking for anything that would tell me where the ambush was going to start. A pot hole in the street with dirt sitting slightly flat in the bottom of it, a dead body that was laying just a little awkwardly, both indicators of landmines or maybe a small piece of metal pipe sticking out of a hole in a wall that could indicate a grenade launcher. The convoy rolled down main street and turned down Wilson Avenue, the road that led to the school with several houses on each side. As soon as the tank turned the corner, I spotted the two Viper's sitting at the end of the street waiting for us.

“AMBUSH!”, I shouted, 'Back it up back it up!!”

The windows of a bunch of the houses on each side of the road pulled away to reveal Mg-42 machine guns and soldiers converged on our position as the Vipers took shots at the tank I was riding on. The rounds smashed into the front end of my tank with the same effect as hitting a solid, immovable wall at 60 miles an hour. The force of the shock wave threw me and all of my friends from the tank. When I hit the ground, all I could hear was ringing and I couldn't move much at all, my vision was slightly grey and everything had a really distinct echo to it. Given a few seconds of laying on my back, one of the Rangers pulled me up and another one helped him carry me into a house. My senses had all returned by this point, and I could see I was still in one piece, as well as hear Trent cursing in Japanese, something he only did when he was royally pissed.

“Casualties?”, I asked rubbing the top of my helmet, I knew I'd have a headache like none other in the morning.

“One tank and six men”, the ranger said.

“Did Privates Creedmor and Morrow make it off the tank?”, I asked.

“Yes Marshal”, the Ranger said, “hunter 4 picked them up.”

“Try and get Overlord on the line”, I said, “My crew, let's deal with these 42's before they can tear up our guys, Nitro, your on point.”

“Rog”, Nitro said hefting up the Mini gun. We moved out of the house through the back door and through the yard of the house, over a short fence and to a sliding glass door of the first house with a 42.

“Jack, you and Nitro deal with this one, James, you and Trent have the next one, Shelby, you're with me, let's get the third house and turn these guns on their owners.”

“Understood”, Trent said.

“Rog”, Nitro nodded.

On that note, we split up. Shelby and I high tailed it towards the third house on the block. I could hear the 42 from inside very easily. Peering inside the window, I could count six guys, four on guard duty and two on the gun.

“They sure do hand these things out like candy don't they?”, my wife asked.

“Yeah, wish we could be as liberal with our equipment as these guys are with 42's”, I commented.

“Should we shoot them?”, Shelby asked. Shelby, the love of my life, is a stupidly attractive blonde haired, green eyed woman in her late 20's. Her favorite way to fight was quietly, which meant suppressors, razor sharp throwing knifes and subsonic ammo paired with a sniper class Rig with all of the ghille suit pieces pulled off of it to make it slim and not stick out too much in the dark. Her favorite toy is a 20 inch integrally suppressed AAC Honey Badger with a 32x Schmidt and Bender scope bolted into a custom built single piece mount with integrated iron sights that flip up automatically with a battle zero once that scope goes down. Her secondary weapon, and her true pride and joy is a bone stock Barrett M82A1, or what most people simply know as “The Fifty Cal.” Shelby could nail you from four miles away with that rifle and she'd even out shot the UWR”s most feared sniper, known only as “The Ghost” and recovered his rifle, an Anzio Ironwork's 20mm, but his body was never found, all we could find upon arriving on scene was a set of bloody foot prints that went into the mountains.

“I thought you'd never ask”, I said as I kicked in the door. Shelby and I funneled into the house side by side, our weapons aimed before the commando's realized what was happening. We got two of the four on guard duty, but couldn't get the other two before they spun around and alerted the two guys on the gun. Shelby shot the other two guys through the wall while I knocked out the 42 gunners.

“One gun down”, I called into the radio.

“Gun down”, Trent said.

“Gun's toast”, Jack said.

“Get some of the rangers to turn 'em on the other 42's, Imma try and get my old man on the line”, I said, “Overlord this is King 1, Dad, where the hell is my Apache? The UWR's got two Vipers in support and we're down a tank and six guys.”

“Apache's 5 minutes out son”, my Dad said, “hang in there Alex.”

“Grip is starting to give out Dad”, I said, “We need that air support now!”

“I can't make the chopper fly faster son”, my Dad told me, “Scar 2-3, Overlord, Relay from King One, the UWR has two viper tanks in support, I need you and your crew to make another pass and get the heat off my kid and his boys.”

“Rodger that Overlord”, the Warthog Pilot said, “King One, Scar 2-3, flight of Three, inbound from the North, tell your tanks to pull back, we gotta take a wide angle to get enough shots on target.”

“Rog”, I said, “All units, all units, be advised, the Hogs are making another pass. High Angle Strafe coming in, pull back pull back!”

“Rodger that Field Marshal”, Hunter 3's commander said, “pulling back to make room for the Force.”

It didn't take long for the Hogs to swing around and make the kills. From there, we pushed towards the Arcadia school inch by inch and shell by shell. We fought for hours against the seemingly endless UWR foot mobiles, with air and armored support coming into and out of the equation and despite it's firepower, the Apache wasn't that much help once we were actually inside the damn building, where the commando's were running around like fucking little mice trying to get away from cats.

“I just saw two duck into that class room!”, Nitro shouted over the gun fire as he hosed a 42 emplacement with the Minigun.

“Rog!”, Trent said as he and I moved into the room. The two commandos were hiding behind a sandbag wall that had been built around a teacher's desk with an M27 IAR resting on it's magazine sitting on the desk itself. I jerked my rifle up to my eye and put the shots on target faster than I probably should have, but I was tired of seeing machine guns.

“Yeah the boss and I are cuttin' through history class now”, Trent joked as we rejoined the rest of the Rangers and the crew in the hallway, “teacher wasn't even that hot.”

“Rodger that”, Shelby laughed.

Trent and I rejoined the rest of the squad in the hallways. We met heavy resistance from the UWR commandos and bots the further into the school we pushed. Close to the rear, a Robot came over the radio.

“Obsidian One this is Spider 3, American Infantry and air support is pushing dangerously close to the artillery emplacement, I'm requesting additional ground forces to my location, how copy?”

“Negative Spider 3”, the voice on the other end of the radio replied in a heavy Brazilian accent. “all ground forces are tied up at this moment.”

“We'll lose the artillery for DC if we don't get reinforced commander!”, the bot said, “we need ground support NOW!”

“There's nothing we can do Staff Sargent, your sacrifices will be honored.”

“You can't just leave us like this!”, the bot shouted.

Their commander didn't reply. The few remaining commandos and bot started fighting like rabid animals as the artillery crew came inside to reinforce them. The bot made several calls to the Viper's outside, but the only answer they received was that of static. For five minutes, it was nothing but trading grenades and machine gun fire, until eventually, the gunfire stopped as Nitro picked off the last commando with his sidearm.

“Clear”, he shouted as we moved outback. In the playground of the school, we found sandbag and wooden bunkers carved into the ground to house six German 155mm Flak Cannons. The pile of spent shells was large and the crates of fresh ammo were even larger.

“Ammo for days”, Nitro said pulling a flare out of his gear, “Scar 2-3, Disciple 2, I need you to make a pass on the enemy artillery emplacement, marking the location with a red road flare.”

Nitro lit the flare as the Warthog Pilot replied, “Disciple 2, Scar 2-3, Flight of three Warthogs in bound, danger close.”

“Everyone get back!”, Nitro shouted, “Hogs comin in!”

“All units, all units, this is Overlord, divert to 8619 Mahogany drive and from there proceed to Washington DC to assist ground forces and Civilian CASEVAC in the area, we have a principle level hostage rescue.”

“Whose' the hostage sir?”, Nitro asked as we moved back towards the convoy.

“The President”, my Dad said.