Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Army of The Damned ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter 1

The truck snaked its way across the poorly made Russian roads. The rain had turned the road into a very muddy and uncomfortable ride. To make the ride worse the squad was in an old Soviet cargo truck which had wooden benches. The ride was anything but appealing Gunter looked at his squad. Most were readying their equipment, loading clips, checking medical supplies etc. A few listened to music on CD players. One man slept. His squad was definitely an interesting bunch. Made of mostly men from European country's military's. three of them were Russian ex spetznaz, about as tough as they come. One former U.S. Army Ranger. Five were British special forces. A random rebel soldier from South Africa. Second to last was a heavy drinking Irishmen. And rounding out the squad was Gunter who was an ex tank commander for West Germany. All of these men were combat experienced with usually shady backgrounds. But still they were excellent soldiers. As the oldest at age 45 Gunter had the most experience in leading men. But had never gone to war with the German army. He had led the men in mercenary combat missions but this mission was an escort. Gunter personally hated escort missions, it meant one more person he had to watch. And usually meant if said person gets shot in the head and dies he and his squad wouldn't be paid. To make matters worse he had no idea what this mission was about. So Gunter was going in with no knowledge of the mission except a map of the area. Gunter hoped he wouldn't fuck up this mission considering the amount they were being paid. 20 grand each but unknown to the squad Gunter was being paid double. Well after this I can finally retire to some nice island somewhere. He thought. After five years in the service and fifteen doing this shit retirement was like an answered prayer. He got a sudden mental image of the island, him laying in a hammock drinking an ice cold beer. Gunter smiled but was interrupted by a large bump. Nicholai Stoyakovich who was loading one of his AK-74 magazines dropped a round. It clattered to the bed of the truck. Gunter scooped up the round and handed it to Nicholai. “Fucking ride eh? This big fancy company can't pay for a bird?”

Mac the Irishmen from Dublin answered back. “I'm sure they did it for a reason.”

“And what is that?”

Mac looked at Nicholai for a second. “You're fucking stupid you know that?”

Nicholai laughed, a harsh barking sound. “No really.”

Without hesitation Mac answered. “It's so your fucking Russian made RPG's don't blow us out of the sky.”

Nicholai's smile faded, “Don't mock my country, if I'm not mistaken part of your country still occupied.”

Mac shot back. “Well at least my country's not at war!”

Gunter intervened. “shut the hell up, both of you! We need to watch each others back! If you don't you won't ever see your country again! Now shut you fucking mouths and start acting like professional soldiers!”

Mac and Nicholai stared at each other but then their gazes dropped. And each nodded toward the other. Gunter found these two annoying, they fought constantly with one another. They usually cooperated in the field. But off duty was another story. But this shit he could do without. Because if people hesitated in the field people died. He had seen it happen that's why he only picked the most battle hardened soldiers. Men who had no problem killing other men. Gunter knew for a fact that Cou, the African had been apart of a massacre of an entire village. The entire squad knew about, mainly because Cou often bragged about it. Mentioning how he manned the machine gun that killed them all. Just a little bit odd and insane. Gunter thought. Well, psychopath was the word that best described him. The thing Gunter liked about him was that he always followed orders. Plus he was the best shot with an AK-47 he had ever seen. Gunter had seen Cou hit and kill targets 250 yards away where the effective range of an AK was 300 yards tops. So that was damn impressive. Cou often said Gunter cheated because his Steyr Aug came with a scope. But Gunter loved his Steyr Aug. He did not approve of the M-16. Mainly because the damn thing had too many pieces and the sights were a little strange. And it had to be the least effective .223 caliber rifle he had ever used. It just didn't have the stopping power. Even though his Steyr Aug was also a .223 he used the .226 which was a step up from fail. Gunter carried two other weapons. One was a world war 2 era Walther p-38 9mm pistol that had belonged to his grandpa. Who had fought on the Eastern front from 1943 all the way to the fall of Berlin. His other weapon was an officer addition Luger that had been passed down by his great grandpa who had fought in WW1. All the men in Gunter's family had served in some form of the German army. His family had been Junkers, a very well respected and very wealthy part of the community. Until the end of the First World War the family's wealth fell apart. At the start of World War 2 Gunter's grandpa was too young to enlist. But in 1943 he had been drafted into the Waffen SS. As a Prussian his grandpa was honored to fight for the fatherland. His father had been apart of the community Militia at age 6 when the Russians entered Berlin. Brain washed by the insane Nazi propaganda he aided a machinegun squad. Fetching ammo and helping to carry equipment. Gunter was the only member of his family that never saw combat with the German Army, his father often taunted him about it. Saying that he would never be a true soldier until he saw actual combat. That troubled Gunter so much he became a mercenary. So now here he was where his grandpa and his comrades had fought to hold back the Russian onslaught. Oddly Gunter wore some of his grandpa's uniform, his fatigue hat rank insignia. And something he hoped nobody would ever recognize in the thick of combat, the skull and crossbones pin and the lightning bolt SS collar patch. Gunter wasn't a Nazi but the Waffen SS combat reputation was impressive. Their bravery and fighting spirit was unmatched. Although the atrocities disappointed Gunter. He knew for a fact his grandpa had taken part in one open air shooting. He had only confessed it to Gunter. Gunter had an extremely close bond with his Grandpa. Because he was the one who raised Gunter. Gunter's father was often out from morning till sunset at the local bar. Spending what little money they made on gambling and beer. His grandpa had told Gunter about the atrocity as he was dying. He had been broken up and barely able to speak, but some how managed to explain the details. That was the only time Gunter ever saw him weep. Just before he died he had given Gunter two iron crosses. He explained why he had received them. One was for bravery under fire. The second was issued for his part in the massacre. He had received it from Himmler himself. His last wish was for Gunter to return to the border and bury it in Russian soil. Gunter didn't understand why, when he opened his mouth to ask, his grandpa was gone. Gunter felt he had lost his best friend. The only person who understood him was gone. Somebody smacked him on the shoulder snapping him out of the memory. “You okay?”

It was the Ranger Tucker. A muscular fellow but had a caring attitude towards the entire squad. “Es ist nichts.”

Tucker was the only member of the squad that spoke German besides Gunter. Tucker nodded. The truck suddenly stopped. Figuring they had arrived Gunter poked his head out, at that instant something whistled past his ear. “Ambush!”

At Gunter's yell every body reacted grabbing equipment and moving to the road side ditch. Gunter looked to make sure everybody was there. “Where the Fuck is Muller?”

“Who”

“The fucking subject!”

Gunter climbed out and headed towards the truck. -BAM- something exploded near by shrapnel pinged off the side of the truck. Of course. Muller was taking cover on the wrong side of the truck. “Get to the ditch!”

Another explosion off to the right was even closer then the last. Gunter grabbed Muller and herded him towards the ditch. With a final explosion the firing stopped as suddenly as it started. Gunter looked at the road sign. Then ducked back down. “Well that was a friendly welcoming.”

“Nicholai shut up.”

Gunter turned to Muller. “Is this it?”

Still a little bit shaken up he nodded. “Okay listen up!”

He waited for the chatting to stop. “Alright now that I have your attention, here's the situation. The regular army has positions to South insurgents to the west. U.S. and coalition forces to the East. Were heading North into the woods. “Mac you're on point.”

Mac let out a frustrated moan, Nicholai laughed. “Okay scratch that Nicholai your on point.”

“Fucking asshole.” He grumbled and moved to the front of the line. “Maintain your distance apart, right boy's places to be.