| From: | Paul J. Adam ShadowTK@********.demon.co.uk |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Internecine Strife |
| Date: | Sat, 28 Oct 2000 17:17:25 +0100 |
footage is two weeks old. It came to me anonymously and I don't know if
it's real or not. Watch for yourself and see what you think.
+++++begin video
"Oh, God. It's the FRAGgedy-asses." the corporal groans.
The cameraman sits up. "Now be respectful of fellow soldiers, Brown."
"Sorry, L-T, but these guys are real jerks. I mean you Rangers are kinda
cocky, but get past it and you're okay, y'know? But these bozos are,
well, bozos." The corporal shakes his head, as the sleek black minibus
(windows tinted almost opaque) comes to a halt.
"They drive about in *that*?" the lieutenant asks.
"Like I said, sir, bozos. Here for some pistol work."
"They're here for the whole day!"
Corporal Brown groans. "I know, sir, but these guys read in some book
that real special-forces types shoot seven hundred rounds a week on
pistols, so there you go..."
The Ranger lieutenant limps towards the door. "I shoot maybe seven
hundred rounds a *year* with pistol. Who *are* these assholes?"
"Some elite mob of simsense commandos." Brown grouses. From his
insignia, he's a rear-echelon trooper who runs this shooting range:
Lieutenant Mallory seems to be a convalescing Ranger recovering from a
knee injury, acting as Range Officer.
Mallory's also watching the black-clad, black-visored soldiers as they
disembark from the minibus. "They're kidding, aren't they?"
"Nossir. They mean it. They really do. Last time I had these jerks here,
they shot up the backstops with L7 rocket launchers. Leastways this time
they're just using pistols. Less cleanup work."
Mallory can't help asking, "They any good?"
"Well, they put holes in targets pretty good, sir. But that ain't
fighting. I cain't shoot for drek on a range, but I killed me a bug. You
shoot pretty good when you got a ten-foot-tall cockroach comin' at ya,
least you do if you don't want it to bite your head off like it was a
Tootise Pop."
"Chicago?"
"No, L-T, Buffalo. Brotherhood chapterhouse. We was cordoning it off, I
was just unloading trucks when the bugs broke out and it was kinda crazy
for a while... Anyway, *you* gotta check these guys in. I just get to
work the targets." It explains why a range clerk has a Bronze Star,
anyway.
"Who's in charge here?" the FRAG officer asks, her oversize captain's
bars flashing silver. At least she's taken off the full-face helmet with
its black-tinted visor.
"I am. Lieutenant Mallory, acting range officer-"
"Lieutenant, you'll do three things for me. Hand over the range, let me
and my men shoot, and clean it up when we're done."
"Yes... sir." Mallory says, with just the right insolent pause.
"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?"
"Not at all, sir. The range is yours, Captain, Brief your men on safety
and give your range plan to Corporal Brown."
The captain pauses. "Range plan?"
"What targets, what sequences, timings... you *do* have a range plan?"
"Of course!" The black-clad captain barely hesitates. as Mallory limps
back into the control hut.
"What do you think, sir?" Brown asks, entering codes into the computer.
"Losers. Let me guess, you're punching up 'same as they did the last
time'?"
"You got it, sir. You ever see a *captain* leading a platoon?
"Nope. They got lieutenant squad leaders, staff-sergeants running
fireteams, seems every rifleman's got three stripes. Weird."
Brown shrugs. "They're like that, sir. Bunch of wannabee losers
overdosed on attitude.
The nineteen FRAG troops stand in parade formation, at rigid attention,
as Captain Wells rants at them.
"...were shooting like a bunch of little old *ladies*! We don't leave
this range until every single one of you gets his Expert medal! You get
me?"
"SIR! YES, SIR!" the three ranks cry in unison.
"Good! Then we're going to-"
Half of Captain Wells' face explodes away from its moorings. as the
sharp *crack* of a supersonic bullet's N-wave is loudly heard.
One of the FRAG troops drops, shot through the chest (another N-wave
crack) A third falls clutching a shattered thigh. Only then (a full two
sconds after the first bullet hit home) does the distant thump of the
first muzzle blast wash over the range hut.
Meanwhile bullets are still slamming into FRAG troopers; big, powerful
bullets that smash through their armour, and put men down hard.
A sniper, six hundred yards away. A *good* sniper.
Lieutenant Mallory shoulders his rifle and scans the horizon, picks out
a wisp of bluish smoke, and opens fire; fast aimed single shots,
adjusted for the long range, not much chance of a hit but it might spoil
the sniper's aim.
Six of the FRAG are down. Others are scrambling for cover... a few
bravely foolish types are ting to return fire with pistols, and one of
them dies for his misguided courage, shot through the head by something
potent enough to shatter his helmet from six hundred yards.
Mallory increases his rate of fire, riddling the hillside from where
those tantalisingly elusive smoke puffs come. The sniper seems wholly
indifferent, continuing to pick off FRAG troops with single, lethal
shots.
And Mallory isn't drawing fire.
That realisation makes rhe Ranger pause a moment, as the last three or
four FRAG troops crawl for cover (one, shot through the pelvis, flops
and writhes in awful pain, his comrades ignoring him)
Mallory walks out into the open, changing magazines, and fires a dozen
rounds at the distant sniper. The only reply is a single shot, wounding
a FRAG trooper through the cinderblock he'd tried and failed to hide
behind.
The Ranger looks around. A dozen FRAG commandoes are down, dead or
sorely wounded, and the others are all well out of sight. Still, the
sniper chooses not to gun down the temptingly-exposed lieutenant.
"Who the hell *are* you?" Mallory asks, still looking for a target.
There's no answer and no more fire. "Brown! Get a security detail and
medevac out here!"
"Already on it, sir!"
+++++end video
About two weeks ago the FRAG lost eight killed and eleven wounded in a
"vehicle accident", including a Captain Josie Wells. Could be
coincidence, could be disinformation, could be literal truth, I don't
know.
Go figure.]<<<<<
-- Jumbo <17:17:43/10-28-61>
