Hello there guys, this is my new story called Spec Ops. If you didn’t read the discussion (which you should because it will help you understand this better) then this is an all war book. There will be times where there will be no fighting at all but they will be few and short. (I know how you guys like your blood ;)
Well then I am also going in every chapter to put in an overview. This is when the main characters captain speaks words of wisdom and it will give you an idea of where the mission is and the object of the mission.w
I found this song "Hero of War" very moving and suitable for this story so.... yeah.
I hope you enjoy!
"A Hero of war; Yeah that's what I’ll be. And when I come home they will be damn proud of me!"
-Hero of war.
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0600 hours,
June 13, 2018,
Camp Ford, Iraq,
Task Force 101,
CPT John Macmillan,
"Chapter 1: Memories."
Captain Macmillan sat quietly at the silver steal desk in front of him. His fingers tracing holes into its steel surface as he thought of what he had to do. He gave a bitter glare down at the portfolio in front of him, he would need to address it soon but every fibre in his body protested against the action. That was not him; inside that portfolio was a different man. An evil man who had no morals and didn’t care about life. Everything in that portfolio went against what he believed in; he was man for honour and valour, not for petty assassinations that only did more bad than good. He was a man for good and justice, not a man for evil and chaos. But since he was all of these things, why was he still here? Why did he not quit already?
He sighed and with weary eyes examined the portfolio again, what lay inside was too much for him to handle and with a loud growl he tossed it into the trash bin behind him. That was all it was too him now, trash. It had been a depressing day for him, filled with more downs than ups, than usual. He grimaced as he placed another bullet into the ammo cartridge of his M9 pistol creating a "click" sound that echoed off the walls of the small room that he called “home”. It wasn’t much, one window filtered in light from the back of the tiny room, it had a small bathroom, a full size mirror hang in the corner of the room, a mini-fridge for him and his partner and two neatly cleaned beds. Like he said it wasn’t much, it was actually little compared to the others but when you’re a guy like, him little is just enough.
With an audible groan he stood up from the desk he was seated at and walked over to a full size mirror that hung in the corner of the room. Every step feeling like hundreds he finally made it and smiled at himself. He looked himself up and down, his eyes meeting every inch of his body. He had dark brown hair and blue icy eyes; he wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans, strongly resembling Drake out of Uncharted. His clothes were dirty, his jeans had a hole at the right knee and his shirt was light brown in some areas. He smiled again, he looked like a mess. Well that was what he was going for; growing up as a young adult he always admired the young adventurer Drake. The way he would barrel head first into situations and in the end always come out on top. He’d wished for an action packed life lick his, he’d dreamed about it for years.
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Spec Ops
Action"The world is a dangerous place. From sticks and rocks to guns and bombs Man has always found new ways to kill each other, in wars and not. But like time itself everything must change, including warfare. Uniforms and front lines have become relics o...
