The Drone Wars

Killing Field

In the jungle on the side of the trail Pig stood idly looking at a colorful bird that perchanced to perch on a nearby tree branch.  These African birds were so much more beautiful than those back home.  He'd only been waiting for a few minutes when Clairvaux made the announcement: "We're moving on.  The mission comes first, we'll send for the bodies to be collected later."

Pig couldn't help but think of the poor families those men belonged to.  They were undoubtedly still waiting for them to return.  Now the families would be denied even the certainty of their loss.

Clairvaux had given the orders and Pig went back to his machete work.  The party continued plowing forward.  Not five minutes more and they came across a clearing.

"Get the Lieutenant!" the cry went up.  "Get the Lieutenant! We found them!"

The troops went into the clearing, including Pig.  There were about a dozen men strewn throughout the clearing, at least from the nearby bodies, a gunshot to each of their eyes.  The bodies had clearly been there for days, rotting and stinking.  The smell of rotting flesh was unbearable when the breeze blew it towards you.

Again, it took a few minutes but the whole platoon gathered in the clearing.  "We're bringing our men home," said Clairvaux.

"What about the Nigerians?" objected one.

"No room on the Mules," said Clairvaux.

It was true of course, there wasn't enough room on the pack drones now, but that didn't mean that some supplies couldn't be left behind.  Pig looked over at Azikwe who stood silently restrained, but if looks certainly Clairvaux would be long dead.  It wasn't right leaving the Nigerians to rot while their own men went home for a proper burial.

It was then that Pig heard the humming sound coming from the jungle.  This time, though, it wasn't just coming from one place, it came from all around them.  The men stopped and began looking around bewildered.  That included Clairvaux who was apparently surprised that his inferiors had been right after all.

Nearly twenty flying drones, each twice the size of a mocking bird came out of the trees together.  Way smaller than traditional military drones.  No way were there twenty operators around living in this jungle.  The drones darted erratically faster than a human could control them.  Then, all at once, they charged the group of men.  Shots rang out like fire crackers and the men began to fall.  The men began shooting at them, but the targets were small, hard to hit, even with automatic fire and once each drone had fired, it retreated into the jungle.

Pig knew that he was about as bright as Alaska in December but something in the back of his brain gave him a suggestion: drop to the ground, face down, and don't get up.  He followed the suggestion instantly, not that he thought he had any chance of survival, his brain had steered him wrong in the past.  Not one of the men who was hit screamed.  A shot in the eye would do that, bring the brain down before a scream could be uttered.  The body would slump uselessly to the ground.  It seemed that the drones were following the rule consistently: one shot per person, right in the eye.  At least now they knew what happened to the squad.

It took all of fifteen seconds before the drones finished their work and the gunfire stopped.  The buzzing disappeared into the forest and as quickly as the drones had appeared, the disappeared.  He was shocked.  He'd survived the attack.