Operation Recovery

Chapter 2: Tom Jackson

COMMANDER TOM JACKSON 

NEW YORK, U.S.A 

MARCH 27, 2025, 3:22PM

The Jets stadium used to be a great building to look at. It had once been a dazzling white building that sat atop Kimberly hill, with it's electronically opening roof and the great jets statue in front. It also had a full brick wall around it with four ticket booths, one on each side.

The wall was still intact but had abandoned machine gun nests along the top. But that great statue was completely bombed out. Pieces of it littered the main entrance. The electronic roof was stuck partway open and had holes from being hit by shells. The white walls were black with soot and dust kicked up by bombs and shells.

But the stadium was about to see it's final day. The Russians had set up a base there. The Americans were going to bomb it. The entrances were covered by heavily armed american troops. The back entrance was covered by Alpha squad led by a man named Tom Jackson. And things weren't going so well for him.

"Jackson, is the entrance secure?" his radio crackled to life.

"No, not yet working on holy shit, Jenkins get down!" Jackson screamed, half to the radio, the other half to the young private standing by the ticket booth, out in the open. But it was to late. The private's rifle jammed, and when he looked to unjam it he was blown off his feet by a shotgun blast that hit him full in the chest.

"Jenkins is dead!" cried another soldier, running out of cover, gunning down Jenkins killer. But the soldier should have been paying attention to other enemies, because right at that moment another shot was fired, this time from an SKS. The bullet ripped through the soldiers neck, hitting his jugular vein causing a geyser of blood to erupt from the exit wound.

Jackson was not going to lose another man to these Russian bastards. He yanked an M60 machine gun from it's mount and rounded the corner. He then pulled the trigger and gunned down the advancing Russians. Their bullet proof vests were no match for a this heavy machine gun. They dropped to the ground a lot heavier then when they were standing.

A final shell hit the ground with a jingle as Jackson released the trigger. He then picked up his radio and gave the command.

"This is Alpha one to Mortar Team. Let it rain."

The sound of artillery sounded like distant thunder on a spring evening. But after thunder you don't hear the whine of a shell as it flies through the air or the impact of it when it hits the ground. The stadium shuddered and shook, but managed to hold it's ground. That wasn't a good thing for it gave the Russians inside time to get through the exits before they collapsed.

Alpha squad was watching the stadium as it was hammered by shells. As it was getting destroyed a lone shell overshot the stadium and slammed into the ground by the back entrance. Bricks were thrown in all directions, one catching Jackson in the stomach.

Jackson was knocked to the ground, the wind knocked out him. As he lay on the ground he realized, with great fear, that he couldn't breath. The brick had dented in his flack jacket so that it was pressing against his chest so he couldn't breath. Desperately, he ripped off his jacket and filled his lungs. Air had never tasted so good. Now that that was over Jackson had another problem. The stadium had not fallen yet and enemies were streaming out of the exit. And they were armed to the teeth with grenades, rifles, rocket launchers, pistols and plenty of other deadly weapons.

"Time to bring out the heavy weaponry," Jackson thought, heading to a large crate.

Inside the crate was a M134 mini gun. The M134 mini gun is a 7.63mm, six barreled gun that has a fire rate of up to 6000 rounds per minute, employing gatling-style rotating barrel with an external power source. The M134 mini gun was probably the deadliest portable gun ever made, thus often called The Death Machine. It was usually only used on boat turrets and jeeps, so Alpha squad was lucky to have one.

Jackson handed the mini gun to Lt. Hooks who was standing by him.

"I've always wanted to use one of these," hooks said, loading a strip of bullets into it.

"Hurry up, the Russians are right around the corner!" Jackson cried picking up the M60. On three. One, two, three!"

Jackson and hooks burst out from behind the ticket booth, spraying round after round at the heavily armed Russians. The mini gun shot so fast all you could hear was a loud humming sound. Just as they thought they had terminated every soldier one that had been hiding in the crater from the mortar threw a grenade at them. Jackson picked up the grenade and threw it back. It killed the soldier but launched a piece of shrapnel that tore across Jackson's stomach. It would have been fine if he had his flack jacket on but he had removed that to help him breath. So now he had a huge cut across his stomach.

Jackson gasped in pain as the shrapnel tore open his stomach before he collapsed to the ground. He tore open his shirt and almost vomited. His intestines were hanging out of his body and the wound was oozing blood and other bodily fluids. He began to lose consciousness and had to fight against the white spots that were spreading across his vision.

Jackson was suddenly jerked forward, away from the stadium by Hooks. Jackson tried to keep his intestines from flopping out causing him more pain. But it was easier to keep his intestines in now that the artillery stopped and everything wasn't shaking. That was when he heard cracking sound. Even with his vision blurring Jackson still saw the stadium begin to fold, then give away and collapse in a cloud of dust. He also saw something else farther back behind the stadium. It was a military helicopter with Russian symbols on it.

He tried to alert Hooks but all he could manage was a low moan. He tried again and this time got out the word helicopter, but by then it was to late. The gunman on the helicopter rotated his seat and let out a barrage of bullets that took out his team mate.Even with his blurring sight he still saw the gunman turn and aim at him. Jackson closed his eyes and waited for it to end. But it didn't.

Instead off shooting him, the Russians must have decided that he would be more use to them if he were alive. Jackson couldn't fight them as the pulled him into the helicopter. He couldn't even stay conscious. He blacked out before he was even in the helicopter.

Authors note: 

I'd just like to say thanks for reading my story and I hope you like it. Please comment, vote and fan. If you don't like it let me know please.

Thanks, pizzaboy360