Chapter 4
#4 of Operation: Liberation (New)
"How'd you sleep, Warwing?" a female voice asked as I sat up, wiping my eyes with my paws.
The sunlight shined through the open windows of a hallway as I looked up, seeing a female jackal standing over me. The female wore the UCP camouflage, which was torn at the arms and legs, and had an M4A1 slung behind her back. Specialist Jana Freepaw was one of the psychologists assigned to my unit, the 2nd Air Assault.
"Well, I guess," I replied groggily, sitting up on a sleeping mat I was sleeping on and stretching. During the night, I ran into the rest of my platoon at the capitol building and we all proceeded to the CDC, where we met heavy Axis resistance. We liberated the place and the surviving doctors, turning it into the medical point for the wounded.
Now, I wore a pair of clean, UCP pants and a tan t-shirt, which I changed into before laying down to sleep last night. On my face, I had a huge bandage on my muzzle, which covered a large gash. On top of that, I had a few stitches on my right ear. My arms were covered in cuts and bruises, all treated with disinfectant and the large gashes covered with bandages. My paws also had bandages around them like a boxer's paw, the cuts underneath the bandages cleaned and disinfected. Overall, I was luckier than most of the anthros around here, who had broken bones, twisted ankles, concussions, or having a limb blown off.
"You guess?" Freepaw questioned me as I sat back down, still stretching. The female jackal sat down in front of me when I nodded.
"Yeah, I guess," I responded, grabbing my beaten up M4 carbine to the left of me and setting it in my lap, taking it apart.
The horrors from last night slowly crept up on me, the wave of survivor's guilt washing over me. I've seen death and saw others die in front of my eyes during the Florida campaign; however, I've never seen all my squad die in front of me. Every single one of them.... Died right in front of me. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't save any of them...
Specialist Freepaw must've sensed my sudden change in mood and she placed a paw on my shoulder. "Endrico?" Freepaw called me by my first name, which was rare in the military.
I flinched when she placed a paw on my shoulder. "WHAT?!" I snarled, my voice echoing throughout the empty, long hallway.
I looked at Freepaw, who looked as if she had done something wrong. The air smelled of the MRE I ate last night and of blood. What have I done? Why am I acting this way? I opened my mouth to apologize, but the Specialist spoke first.
"I'm sorry," the female anthro sounded concerned, "I heard about what happened to your squad, but you can't go on with all that guilt inside of you. Let it out, Endrico."
I cleaned my rifle as I spoke through gritted teeth, "you know what? I could have saved their lives. I should have been more vigilant and aware of my surroundings. I led them straight into a kill funnel. I LED THEM INTO A KILL FUNNEL FOR GOD'S SAKE!" I lowered my voice to stop yelling before I attracted attention from the rest of the military personnel downstairs, "it was all my fault that they died, Freepaw. I made all the wrong moves and it costed them their lives." I looked up at Specialist Freepaw, not realizing that I had tears falling from my eyes.
"You're only nineteen years old and your first real combat experience was in Florida," the anthro spoke to me after wiping my eyes with her paw, speaking to me in a soothing tone, "a few months ago, when I evaluated all of the division, you weren't so shaken up."
I put my weapon beside me and grabbed my UCP combat shirt, slipping it on. I then felt Freepaw's paw on my shoulder, preventing me from getting up. "Look at me, Warwing," the female spoke in a stern tone.
I looked her into her hazel colored eyes. "Don't let last night affect your mind, okay?" she told me in a calming tone, "you did your best to lead them. It's not your fault, it was just a sick turn of events. You can mourn later; for now, focus on your job." I wiped a tear from my eye with the clean sleeve of my UCP coat and nodded my head. Why am I so weak about this?
Just then, I heard footsteps walking toward us on the tiled floor of the hallway. Specialist Freepaw and I looked to our right, seeing Lieutenant Snowfall and the platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class James Franz, walking to us with a brisk pace.
"Specialist, how is Warwing?" the lieutenant asked the female jackal.
"He's fine, ma'am," Freepaw replied to her, "just a little shaken up from last night. He lost his entire squad during the attack. Someone from first squad brought him in after meeting up at the capitol building, I think it might have been Private Ester."
A little shaken up? I practically lost family last night!
"That's good to hear," Lieutenant Snowfall looked down at me with a calm face, "did you sleep well? How are your wounds?"
"They're okay, ma'am," I replied, "they sting a little, but they're okay."
"Good, because you are being reassigned to a Marine detachment that just arrived here," the lioness surprised me, offering her paw to help me up, "Sergeant, please escort Warwing down to the anthros waiting."
I had a shocked expression on my face and the female lion spoke again, "I know, I know, you're being thrown back into the fray. But they need an extra paw that has medical training AND trained as a chemical specialist, it just so happened you're the only one in this unit." Obediently, I packed up all my stuff that I had laid out, which was only my sleeping mat and sleeping bag, into my assault pack, leaving my bloody, tattered multicam uniform on the floor. I put on my helmet and combat vest and picked up my M4A1 carbine, following Staff Sergeant Franz down the long hallway.
"I'm sorry about your squad, Warwing," the male panther spoke as we walked towards a flight of stairs that lead down, "I know it's hard, but keep your head in the game. You're one of the best damned soldiers I've had the pleasure of meeting and I don't need you losing your mind."
I flinched, remembering how my squad members died before my eyes. Explosions, machine gun fire. Then I remembered the Russian tiger I left for dead. That bitch killed River... I could have saved River! Why wasn't it me?! Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I kept following the male panther.
"I'll keep that in mind, Sergeant," I said as we walked down the stairs side-by-side.
"This detachment you're being assigned to is part of the Marine unit that assaulted the beaches of North and South Carolina. They lost a lot of guys and over half of their medics," he told me, "they also needed a chemical specialist because one of their squads has an EOD tech that needs a CBRN anthro. It just so happened you are the only one in the unit that's CBRN but don't worry, we won't be leaving anytime in the future because of our losses." We entered the huge lobby of the CDC, seeing a group of three anthros standing there, all dressed in the woodland digital MARPAT camouflage that the Marine Corps usually wear. We approached the one that had a Master Sergeant rank on the front of his vest.
"Private Endrico Warwing?" he said in a questioning voice. I nodded my head and held out a paw.
"I'm Master Sergeant Jack Tucker," the male anthro wolf greeted me, shaking my paw. Master Sergeant Tucker stood at around six foot tall, looking muscular and young. He had darkish brown fur, but then again, I couldn't tell because his face, paws, and feet were muddy. He also was holding an HK416 in his other paw. On his head, he wore a Kevlar helmet with a tan cover and on his chest, tan body armor that had his rank and a US Marine Corps insignia on the chest. He had a thick, New Yorker accent.
The female anthro panther to his left stepped forward, holding out her paw, "I'm Sergeant First Class Ebony Woods and yes, I am the EOD assigned to this squad." I quickly shook her paw. Sergeant Woods is a black furred, anthro panther with mud and dirt all over her face, paws, and feet. She carried an M4A1 and wore the same helmet and body armor as Master Sergeant Tucker, the only difference being her rank. She had a Western accent, assuming she's from California.
The female anthro to the Master Sergeant's right stepped forward, holding out her paw as well, "and I'm Staff Sergeant Helena Bates, the squad's RTO and tech geek." I also shook her paw. The female anthro fox, from what I could tell, has snow white fur; however, the mud and dirt made her fur look a darkish brown. She carried an HK416 as well as a walkie-talkie attached to the side of her vest. Staff Sergeant Bates wore the same equipment as the rest of the anthros, having her rank and the Marine Corps insignia on the chest of her body armor. The fox also had a soft southern accent.
I shook both their paws and looked around, seeing that my platoon sergeant disappeared. Well, my old platoon sergeant. "Nice to meet you all," I said to all of them, smiling a little bit. Master Sergeant Tucker then motioned me and the rest of the squad outside the building.
"Tell us a little about yourself, Warwing," Sergeant Woods said to me as we walked around to the back of a beaten up, dirty Humvee, "I mean, you are permanently being assigned to us." Permanently?! I gave the female a crazy look as Master Sergeant Tucker and Staff Sergeant Bates climbed into the vehicle, leaving me with Sergeant Woods outside.
The panther chuckled, "hey, we don't bite. Well, I do, but trust me, we all don't bite. Just answer my question when we get inside the Humvee." She opened the trunk of the Humvee, which had three tan assault packs lying in it. I placed my black assault pack in the trunk and she closed it. Walking around to the passenger side, I got in and closed my door. Master Sergeant Tucker sat at the wheel, while Sergeant First Class Woods and Staff Sergeant Bates sat in the back, their weapons unloaded and in their laps. The sergeant started the vehicle and the Humvee lurched forward.
The inside of the Humvee smelled of sweat, blood, and gunpowder, something that I was used to smelling by now. The windshield had bullet holes, which appeared to have not penetrated the front. Probably bulletproof. The sides of the Humvee were peppered with bullet holes, being no larger than 7.62-millimeter rounds. This puppy has been through a lot. Remembering Sergeant Woods' question, I answered it.
"Well, for starters, I was born and raised in Newnan, Georgia," I said aloud, breaking the silence. We were driving down a road now, following another tan, beaten up Humvee.
"Really?" I heard the New Yorker say beside me, "you sure don't sound like you were born in Georgia, let alone someone that has lived here their whole life."
"Yeah, I don't hear the accent," Staff Sergeant Bates spoke, "I was born in Alabama and I have a thick accent."
"An annoying one at that," Sergeant Woods sneered.
"Coming from someone that was born in California," Staff Sergeant Bates snapped, "so damn laid back and lazy."
"Excuse me?" the panther's voice sounded angry, "at least I'm not some backwards...."
"Ladies, cut it out!" Master Sergeant Tucker raised his voice, "seriously, you both need to get along a little bit better than this. You're both sergeants, act like it!" I kept facing forward, not really paying attention to the females in the back.
I noticed that now we were following a convoy of about three other Humvees and about five LMTVs. "Where are we headed now, Master Sergeant?" I asked the wolf, curious about where we were headed.
"To meet up with the armored division near the border of Tennessee," the wolf replied, "we are advancing into that state while our British and German counterparts are moving up through North Carolina." That makes sense.
"How come you all are above E-5?" I asked another question that was burning in my head. It wasn't typical to see a squad full of sergeants.
"Battlefield commissions and filling in personnel," he answered quickly, "it just so happened we are a squad full of sergeants." That made sense, but I felt like he was hiding something.... But whatever.
"Why are you asking so many questions?" I heard Staff Sergeant Bates ask.
"Because I like to know what I'm getting into, Staff Sergeant," I replied, "from experience, I don't like going into something blind."
The vehicle then fell silent again as we drove down the bumpy road, passing by burning cars and dead anthros. The sight was supposed to make me sick, but I've become so numb to the sights that it looks like the norm to me. Whatever happened to my family?
I haven't heard from my parents and sister for months while in Australia, but my dad probably got them to a safe place. I haven't heard anything from them, so all I could do is assume they were dead or captured by the Russians.
I focused on my M4A1, field stripping the rifle and started cleaning it. I needed to prepare for the journey ahead.