Wayne World
Smoke on the water
I can see the great cliffs from all the way out here. They seem to stretch for thousands of miles. From where I am, they stand about 3 inches tall & are leering at our ship. Their granite eyes pierce the hull & those that tried to climb them last time. Our glorious general assured us that it won’t be like last time though.
“You won’t even have to climb!” He says, but I doubt many of us believe him. The path they carved through constant artillery fire certainly looks easier to maneuver but the rock face was never the issue. Like lice on a child’s head, you can men scrambling around, carrying ammo & guns to & fro. Our destroyers could easily wipe them out but according to the general, “it would be a waste of resources. Those cockroaches aren’t worth it.”
The last man to try & argue with him got sent as part of the previous wave without a weapon. I’m not too better off than him but at least I have a big stick with the best moral support around. I’ll admit that the Republic of Galtrot doesn’t pick the best military leaders, no matter what their medallion body armor might say, but I’m proud to be from a land that’s fighting for what’s right.
This war has taken thousands of lives already. The cliffs of Kaliv are just another step towards freeing the people of Artom. Tomorrow at the break of dawn, landing craft will be on their way to the base of those granite walls. Our prison break is just starting.
Gravel Beach
The day has come for us to hit the land. Some are ready & willing while some are struggling to leave their cabins. The morning briefing told us that the waters are supposed to be calm & the sky bright & sunny although I’m not sure how much that really matters. Lead or water, either way we’re gonna get rained on.
The virtual cafeteria porthole made the task of taking the cliffs seem a lot less daunting; now that I’m actually boarding the landing ship, I couldn’t be more scared. It doesn’t really matter though because the loading ladder is raised & the cables are being unhooked. The salty sea air fills my lungs. For most, it has a calming sensation but for me, it smells of death. The small ship rocks back & forth as miniature waves slap the side.
The guy standing behind me actually falls & smacks against the floor of the boat. Everyone laughs, trying to ignore the growing height of those granite cliffs. The chances of anyone on this landing craft getting home alive are slim to none. We’ve all given up everything we love to get here. All that’s left for us to do is pray that we won’t die in vain.
Crash Landing
About 1 mile out from the shore, a few have gotten sea sick & covered the floor in a thin layer of stomach acid. As much as I like these guys, I can’t wait to get out.
Suddenly, a landing craft 100 feet away from us gets launched into the air. Its hull splits into three & what were once strong men, are turned into red fish food. The explosion’s shockwave rattles our boat. Getting back to our feet, we can see rapid flashes of orange light coming from the cliff tops. Whizzing cracks fly by our heads but somehow, no one gets hit. Some would say it’s a miracle but those don’t happen when you're riding into hell.
Just 50 feet from shore, an enemy artillery shell landed at our 8 o’clock. The force of it slides the back half of the boat forward & makes us land sideways. The gravel rocks scratch up the side of our ship, making an evil hiss. Bullets ricochet off while other landing craft hit ground.
A loud battle cry rings out from both ends of the beach. I can hear screaming slowly advancing up the beach. When the machine gun stops peppering our only piece of cover, we try to make a run for it. As I turn the corner, I can see the carved path. The cliffs tower like falling skyscrapers and the pathway shows its fangs. Boulders intimidate anyone who approaches but the barbed wire makes them easy pickings. I can see the bodies of a few lucky souls who just managed to get halfway up but the bullet holes fill in the rest of their story.
Holding my head high & hardening my hands onto the flagpole, I harmonize my voice & soul with the battlefield. My feet begin to feel like they’re on air as the cracks of machine guns start closing in on my position. The flag feels like it’s trying to rip itself out of my hands as I see holes appearing in it.
I make it through the cliff’s teeth & begin my ascent through its throat. I can feel barbed wire digging into my legs. The pants try to soak up as much blood as they can but it still lands on the dirt. My foot lands on a soldier’s helmet & forces me face first into the dirt. I try & try & try to get up but I barely can. A string of barbed wire falls in front of me. I can barely see who but someone has made it in front of me. I wrap the wire around my hands & my arm so I can climb further.
It digs further into my flesh each time I pull myself. With the flag by my side, I still feel like I can make it. Eventually, the pathway flattens out & I can once again stand up. I’ve made it. I did the impossible. Now, I just have to find the person who also made it up. I unwind the barbed wire & wipe the dirt from my eyes. The silence of my deaf ears gives me the confidence to slowly stand up. And with my patriotic smile, I take a look in front of me.
The dead body of the man who made it first lies ahead along with a firing squad of Artom machine guns. I’m only given a second to think of what to do. I drop the flag and close my eyes.
It doesn’t take long for these men to turn me to swiss cheese. For them, I’m just another invader that climbed their hill. My body rolls down the hill & becomes a snowball of blood, wire, & dirt. The End.