Sheer Nonsense--- the first treasury of short stories by KingNatan1

Clouds of Smoke

           This one's more of an action story (less humor)

                                            It was a time of war. Chaos ruled the dark, death-filled streets of our once beautiful capital city. Once upon a time, our city was a beautiful place. It was a center of trade and commerce, with huge glass and steel skyscrapers towering above luscious tree-lined avenues. Head South and you would find our busy industrial port, where ginormous freighters from all countries sailed in and out among the sapphire colored water. Spacious apartment complexes and hotels dominated the western portion of the city. Head into the northern hills above our beloved metropolis you would find a numerous amount of small businesses and homes.

                                    Head to our famous tourist district, in the northwest portion of the city, and you could enjoy eating our wonderfully delicious homemade scruffles, a delightful pastry with a warm, sweet, chewy bread crust, a scrumptious filling with a light, fluffy, rich, and flowing crème, wrapped in a soft sugary chocolate coat and sprinkled with the finest cinnamon, in one of our cheerful, lively cafes. One could also enjoy our own style of spa treatments and massages. But now no one can enjoy the scruffles or the spas.

                                 For our beloved city, our country, our home, has been invaded and our capital city destroyed by malicious bombs dropped on innocent civilians and tourists and disintegrating them into nothing but heaps of fire and ash and spewing our beloved home in bright orange flames! Then their vile desert tan tanks and infantry marched into the city and seized the royal family from their ornate limestone palace, took them to a local arena, and cruelly executed them by tying them to wooden stakes and setting them on fire! While forcing any survivors they found to watch!

                              Who are the malicious, wretched beasts that are doing these vile, devilish acts of cruelty and despicableness? "They" are an army devoted to destroying monarchies everywhere and replacing them with democracies.

                     "They" are masters of trickery and deception, for "They" actually have the U.N. believing that this is a "just war", and that "they" are destroying "injustice and tyranny" and "are bringing about a better nation for the common good of the people."

                           To tell the truth, we actually liked our king, Sebastian III, and were okay without a democracy. However, when we told "them" that, "They" decided to use force and invade our country, with the U.N. doing nothing! Now, there's only one of our bases still in our control.

                 That is where I'm writing this from. I am a soldier in our beloved nation's army, a private, called up when the invasion began. Right now I am in Barrack #6H, a rusty brown brick barrack building. The barrack sits near the middle of a row of brick buildings just like it. A dusty dirt road ran in the middle of the row, with grassy areas in between. My barrack was in section H, about half a mile to base center and two miles to the edge.

                  The rest of my unit (my barrack 6H mates) consisted of Sergio, a 25 year old private with muddy brown hair, a positive attitude, and a deep, roaring laugh, Mack, a 32 year old private with a crew cut and a grudge, Philippe, a 21 year old private who was pretty shy and nervous about a lot of things, Barrett, a 18 year old private with a shady past, Jose, a 19 year old private and a pro at soccer, and the unit commander, "One eye" Leon, a 31 year old sergeant with blond, messy hair, a stubble, one eye, and a way with a machine gun. Barrett, Mack, Philippe, Leon, and I were sitting in our bunks doing whatever when we heard the camp intercom say, "Attention! All troops to action stations! This is not a drill! Repeat! All troops to action stations!"

                            "Alright, alright, I heard you," muttered Mack. "Come on, men, to your stations, you heard the commandant," said Leon. "Let's go, let's go." The base had air raids frequently, so we knew what to do. We ran outside and Leon called the others in our unit, telling them to meet us at our defense station. We ran to the end of the barrack row and turned left on the dusty road. Our action station was a checkpoint into sector H, with machine guns and an anti-aircraft gun. We went along the dusty road past more brown brick barrack rows, through the sector H backup farm(each sector had one, so we'd have a food supply if we were besieged), past the sector H square, the main part of sector H, a dusty road with buildings on both sides.

             There was the Horse's Mouth Restaurant and Tavern, a red brick two story building. I smiled at the smell of the hot tomato soup, the frying meat sizzling on the grill, the fresh spices tickling my nose and making my mouth water, all of those leaking out the open door. Adjourning it was Clean Cuts Barbershop, where we got our haircuts. After that were the cleaners, a clothes store and several other shops that served everything we needed. A little bit later I saw our station. We all went inside. Mack grabbed his mini-gun and strapped ammo onto his belt. Barrett and Philippe manned the Ack-Ack, a type of anti-aircraft gun. I grabbed an ak-47 and went to the checkpoint window.

              Off in the distance, towards sector B, I heard an explosion and Ack-Ack fire. "They must be attacking sector B or sector F!" I shouted to the sergeant. "That would be either the tank and truck storage or uniform supply!" He replied. "I hope its uniform supply!" I exclaimed. Suddenly I saw a tan truck approach the checkpoint. "Halt!" I shouted. "State your business!" The driver, a thin soldier with dark glasses, showed me his identification. "All is in order." I said. "Proceed." The car strolled through the checkpoint and then stopped. The passenger door opened and a man stepped out. He was tall and bore the markings of a general. He had a light brown mustache and a kepi. He was the commander of sector H!

             Unfortunately, he brought bad news. "Tank and infantry forces have breached sector J." "That's about 3 miles from here." I said. "But they got a big task if they want to get here." "They don't care as much about here. We're the sector in charge of food. "They" have food. What they want are the ammunition, the trucks and tanks, the planes, the guns, and the base control," the commander said. "That would be sectors A, C, B, I, and G." Leon said. "I heard Ack-Ack fire in the direction of B and F." I said, worried about what it meant. Suddenly, the intercoms blared, "Breach in sector D!" "The electronics center!" Leon cried. Off in the distance dark clouds of smoke were appearing. "I got a bad, bad feeling about this!" Philippe said nervously. Then two tan trucks appeared. They made it through the checkpoint. One of the trucks continued on but the other one stopped. "What's going on?" inquired Leon of the driver. "We're from sector J." He replied.

               "We were in the sector village when the call to arms came. We were to defend the sector village, well, what remained of it, for it had been hit by bombs in the earlier raids. We were waiting tensely and soon we saw a number of fleeing soldiers running towards us. Five seconds after the last one got past us showers of bullets came from the cloud of smoke. Our unit started firing at them, but there were too many. About three others and I retreated to one of the truck lots and jumped in the nearest one. We sped away and decided to go here. And the rest you know." "Wow, what a story." Leon said. "I am Sergeant "One-eye" Leon, and these are Philippe, Barrett, Mack, and Steve." I'm Hank," said the driver, a burly man with a tattered uniform, a buzz cut and a black goatee. "These guys are Speedo, Tony, and Louie," he said, motioning towards the other soldiers. "Should we expect any more refugees?" "Probably," the soldier said.

             At that moment, some troops came jogging towards us. I recognized one of them. "Hey, Hans!" I yelled at one of the soldiers. "What's up? Say, where's the rest of your unit? Why are you so beat-up?" Hans looked indeed messed up, dirt stains on his crimson uniform, and his blond hair soaked in dirt, purple and blue bruises dotting his face and legs. "B-B-Breach in s-s-sector, sector-," he muttered before he fell unconscious. "Hans, what do you mean? What sector? Hans!" I cried, heart pounding in my throat. "Look!" Leon cried, pointing towards our sector village. "More troops are coming!" I saw them coming. Suddenly, my heart stopped as I realized something. "Those aren't our uniforms!" I yelled. Bullets began spraying the checkpoint.

To Be Continued....