Chapter 18:Second Ambush
I am leading half a unit of soldiers through the woods to try and find and destroy a rebel observation outpost. These are not my regular soldiers, they are probably men from the other legion.
We are just on a simple mission, so I expect nothing to go wrong. However, something feels wrong.
I hold up my hand for the other peacekeepers to stop.
I assumption is correct, and we are attacked on all sides by rebel gunfire.
I am able to get down, as are seven or eight other peacekeepers. However, the rest are murdered before my eyes.
I pull out a grenade, nod to the other peacekeepers, and we all throw grenades in all the different directions.
The explosions give us enough time to make a run for it, but not enough time to turn around. We run forward hoping to circle back to the encampment when we get the chance. In our panic we end up leaving behind our machine guns.
We run as fast as we can, though it becomes apparent that the ambushers were already killed by the grenades. However, it is not long before we are encountered by more rebels.
They immediately gun down three of my Peacekeepers before any of us can react, but we are able to take cover.
Whenever the Rebs run out if ammo and need to reload, one of us ducks out from behind a tree to fire at him or her with our pistols. Since the Rebs are sloppy and careless with their ammo, we have many chances to take shots at them.
A rebel is fumbling with a jammed machine gun magazine: I shoot him in the head.
A rebel is firing at one of my comrades: I shoot him in the throat.
A rebel who's organs were shot out is clutching at them: I shoot him in the forehead while remembering what happened the last time an injured Reb was unnoticed.
A rebel is cowering behind a rock: the first thing he sees upon sticking his head up is my bullet, which promptly splatters his head.
It is woefully clear that these Rebs are fresh recruits; this is probably their first combat experience. For many of them it is also their last, one example being the poor son of a bitch who tripped and fell on his gun while he was firing it.
Eventually, they must have ran out of bullets because they charge at us. We fire at the Rebs, killing eight of them.
When the rest come, I draw my sword. The first thing I do is separate the head of one rebel from his shoulders, courtesy of a sideward swing.
Using the backward momentum, I hack open the back of the next rebel. While my comrades are using their knives, I am hacking rebels left and right.
Soon there are no more left in this area.
We do not have enough time to collect guns from the dead bodies, as a detachment of even more Rebs are coming this way. I do what any good commander would do.
"Go without me, I'll hold them off."
I cut him off before he can finish that sentence, "yes I'm sure, now go."
Now I am all alone, alone to face he rebel horde.
I expect them to kill me, but that is not what happens. Instead, they surround me and threaten to shoot if I don't lower my weapon.
I am well aware of the fact that an attempt to charge them will result in my being killed and them living. Yet I remain prone.
Eventually, one Reb rips the sword from my hands (with the help of some of his friends), and after forcing my hands behind my back he keeps them there with a handcuff.
I am now a prisoner.