posted 01-26-2003 02:24 PM            

1948: The mountainous regions of Western China, Tibet (Xizang) West of Qinghai

It was a frigid day, the kind that could chill one to the bone, when wind would cut into the skin like a dagger, and billowing clouds of steam would escape the mouthes of men and animals alike. The sky was a deep gray funk that promised nothing but misery, and forthcomings fraught with adversity. Her eyes flickered nervously among the ranks of the soldiers. Unconsiously, she pulled her trenchcoat closer to her body as she caught the sound of the wind howling madly against the walls of the building. Every muscle in her body was taut and rigid, and she was ready to bolt at any given moment. She shuffled a stone beneath her booted foot, and cast her gaze over the high mountain ranges in the distance... they were safe here, at least for the moment.

A few days prior, her platoon had raided a monestary above a high mountain, they had driven the priests into submission, and held the building as their own. The group had had little choice, either the priests, or themselves, they could not risk being found out. Shortly after the Great War, the time when peace seemed, at last, an attainable goal, a powerful regime made itself known in China. It seemed... implausible, but during the War, a powerful few managed to rally together men and weapons, powerful weapons. No one knew just how they had managed to gain them, no one knew, how they could have. But one thing was certain, they were there, and they were monstrously powerful.

They crushed the communist regime easily, and taken over China, though, they did not kill off the emperor, or his family. Though that was irrelevent, the family had little more to do than boost the morale of its people. And now, with the world's great powers substancially weakened, the new party virtually had the Earth at its feet.

But nay, there were those who would once again stand and fight. Under uneasy circumstances, the world had formed an allience against them. But it seemed utterly futile, The United States, the great and proud country that had helped tear down the lieges under the banner of the swastika, the most powerful country in the world... even it had very little power against them. It was like a mouse trying to fight a tiger, or comparing gold to dirt. But under the current circumstances, the world was in turmoil, the Chinese had already crossed into United States Territory, had well taken over half of Europe, and had the whole of Asia, in chains. All the rest of the world could do, was sit, and watch.

They called themselves the Sheng Qi.

She was part of a last ditch effort to take the regime down from the inside, to kill the leaders, and political lackies that wove the army together. It was virtually hopeless, the leaders, were in Nanking, surrounded by the best of the best for protection. And they, had very little hope of doing anything more than perhaps destroying a few bases... But for now, their primary goal was making it to a hidden training base in Qinghai, but even that, seemed unattainable at the moment.

But she did not cry, she would stand and fight, like the rest of the men in her ranks, she refused, to just lie down and let the dragons feed upon her, she refused to die, like the rest of the world.

A nudge against her shoulder shook her out of her temporary dream state. "Wha?"

"You seem down." The voice, belonging to a very pretty, if bedraggled hokkaido ken, leaked of a smile.

"Oh... it's nothing... just pondering on just how I want to die." She muttered.

"Oh come on Faith, it isn't that bad, I mean, yeah we are freezing to death, but at least our innards aren't strewn about Tian'anmen Square." She winked, her smile slowly turning into one of her trademark grins.

"Oh... now that's very comforting Haruko. I swear I would kill you myself if my hands weren't frozen to my seat." She muttered, reaching over to grasp her helmet, pulling her raven, white streaked hair to the top of her head before smushing her helmet on top of it.

"Now that's no way to talk to a friend." She pouted.

"Friend my butt...." Faith grumbled. "How about those rations you took from me?"

"Um..." She blushed and shook her head. "Oh well."

She sighed in disgust, utterly envious of the fact that the hokkaido could stay so lighthearted.

"Anyway... I think we'll be moving out tomorrow... the chief wants to get to Qinghai as fast as possible... and Lord knows, we need to make it there." Haruko said quietly.

Faith unconsiouly fingered the crucifix that adourned her neck, and nodded in agreement.

A cold gust of wind blew through the window, wishing away what little warmth the room had to offer. Faith shivered and hung her head, an intense sense of nostalgia starting to overcome her as she thought of just who and what she had left behind to help fight the jackasses in Nanking.

"This is so stupid..." She said quietly, pulling her trenchcoat even closer to her body.

posted 01-28-2003 04:44 PM            

Captain Artemus Moore had served in two of the most harrowing combat jumps of the second world war with the American 101'st Airborne... jumping from perfectly good airplanes into the bocage of Normandy and the tows of Holland. Here he was, leading his company into their third combat jump in what was quickly shaping up to be yet another World War in a far off land.

This fleet of planes came from all over the newly allied world in a last ditch attempt to help the rebels in China overthrow the Sheng Qi. France, Germany, Britain, the U.S. and almost all other countries were now allied against them. It was odd, having Germans and Japanese integrated into British and American divisions... not to mention more than a few Soviets, but that was the price to be paid for freedom as well. The fox also held a weapon unheard of in the allied ranks previously, the STG 44, a liberated German design dubbed the "assault rifle". Bazookas had long ago been abandoned in favor of 90mm panzerfausts, the only thing capable of cracking the armor of the new enemy they were up against. It wasn't much, and it wasn't an incredibly large force going in... but it was all the allies had to offer at the moment.

The vulpine stood as a red light flashed near the plane door, the same as in the other planes in the fleet. He raised his hands, yelling above the din. "Stand up!!" With a crooked index finger, he gave the order for the paratroops to hook themselves to the static line. "Hook up!!" It was then that all hell broke loose...

Just as the troops were starting to yell out the status of their equipment, the ground fire started in all it's fury. Instantly, a few planes from France and Russia dissappeared in balls of flame along with all inside. Slugs peirced the fox's plane, causing a few troops to slump over. He threw open the door, letting the wind rush in as the fire increased, sending more and more planes careening into the ground below. After a few agonizing seconds, the light above the door flashed from red to green. "GO! GO! GO!!" His scream peirced the air as the troops jumped from the plane, followed finally by their leader. The fox wathced as many of the troops scattered the moment their chutes opened, sending them every direction. He could only hope they could somehow meet up on the ground.

He dangled helplessly, the air suddenly eerily silent after his own parachute opened. Luckily, all of his equipment was intact as he drifted toward what appeared to be a monastery or shrine, the cold, gusting wind that Faith had felt earlier holding both himself and the other allied troops at both the mercy of it's direction and enemy guns.

The ground, or moreover, a tree within the monastery courtyard rushed up to greet him, and soon he found his vulpine frame all too conspicuous as he dangled from the tree. His bright star-and-striped patch that denoted him as an American shone brightly against the pale moonlight. "Well... looks like I start the war from right here..." He said gruffly. Just as he reached for his knife to cut his chute away and free himself, he heard figures approaching...

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I venture to suggest that patriotism is not a short and frenzied outburst of emotion but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime.

- Adlai Stevnson

The pen is the tongue of the mind.

posted 02-21-2003 10:57 AM            

In the air far above China, the glider coasted silently. The tow plane had disengaged and turned back nearly thirty minutes ago. Inside the glider, a squad of American troops waited more-or-less patiently for the time when they would land.
The only sound was of the wind rushing past the fueselage and over the wings.

Cramped and nervous, the troops fidgeted slightly with fear and anticipation. Some fingered religious items, some hummed tunes, and others had their heads bowed in prayer. They were going in with the paratroops.

While the gliders were able to land a full squad together in one place, they were also finicky and wrought with uncertainty. Sudden wind sheers could throw a glider into a dive, and without an engine it wasn't likely to pull out.

Sitting in the back row, second to the right was Jake, the dark-green pot of the military helmet pushing his ears down onto his head. He wore the standard dark-green uniform that most of the allies had addopted. In his pack he carried rations, ammo, a bed roll, a trenching tool, and a small med kit, among other things. Jake's right hand gripped the muzzle of his M1-Garand, a fine rifle used mostly by the British. He had found it on one of the dead British soldiers on his last mission and had added a scope. He liked the model better than his standard issue. Six grenades were strapped to his belt, as well as his grandfather's knife. An old relic from the first World War, it had been passed down to him. Symbols and patterns had been etched in its silvery blade. The edge was curved elegantly and was notched at the base in the way of a saw.

"Hey Jake! Why don't you get your head out of the clouds and say something?" the voice of his friend startled him. Gerald "Gumby" Gobreski was in front and to the right of Jake. A stripe of black ran down the front of Gumby's brown snout. In the dim light given off by the pre-dawn, and someone's flashlight, Jake could see that Gumby was grinning. Apparently, he'd been calling to him for a couple of minutes.

"What is it?" Jake asked quietly.

"It's the silence before the storm. Can't you sense it?" Gumby motioned around the glider. Jake looked and saw many scared expressions. For some of them, it was their first drop.

Indeed it was silent, nothing could be heard from the outside world. The darkness out of the windshield was unyielding.

"I see what you mean," Jake answered. The pilot looked tense, but everyone else looked just as they had for the past hour.

"Are you loaded?" Gumby's question threw Jake off for a second. Realizing that he meant his rifle, Jake nodded.

A crackle from the radio up front seemed loud in the near silence of the glider. Jake turned to look at the officer who was opperating the radio.

"...Drop in progress, troops in the air. Good luck guys, and may God watch out for you..." the radio crackled and went silent again.

"Alright men," the commander stood carefully at the front of the glider, his gray muzzle and white fur distinguished him from the others. "That was 'A' Squadren reporting that their paratroopers had started to jump. That means that we're next. Get ready!"

Almost immediately after the commander had sat down, the distant crackle ground fire could be heard. Streams of dashed light began to burn into existence outside of the windshield. They could only hope that they hadn't been spotted yet.

Jake tried to remember back to the short briefing that his commander had given them. Something about fighting their way from the LZ (Landing Zone) to a recently liberated monestary and reinforcing the troops already there. His commander had said that it wasn't very likely that they would see a lot of action. Jake began to wonder if he would be right or not.

The glider dipped with a sudden buffet of wind, causing the pilot to break out in a sweat. Jake could see the man straining to maintain control of their plane. The pilot eased the glider's nose down, and Jake could begin to discern the lines of roads and rivers on the ground far below.

The rushing air outside seemed just as loud as it had always been, but the ground was approaching startlingly fast.

"Everybody brace for impact!" the commander yelled. The troops all grabbed straps hanging from the cieling and lifted themselves away from the floor.

Gliders were only equiped with skids for landing, and they sometimes had their bellies ripped open from the landing.

Jake prayed for the safety of his friends and himself as the glider careened towards a bluff. For an instant, everything was quiet. Then, the nose made first contact with the native foliage.

An explosion of constant noise hurt Jake's ears as the glider more-or-less crashed into the bluff. A terrible screaming sound emanated from where the belly of the craft was scraping along the ground.

The windshield was suddenly full of rocks and plants, passing by them by bare inches. Suddenly, a boulder appeared out of nowhere directly in front of them. The pilot yelled something indicernable and tried to yank the stick to the right, but it was no use. The glider smashed into the rock with nearly full force.

The pilot was killed instantly, two men lost their grip and slammed into the bulkhead. Everyone else released their straps and sat back into their seats, preparing anything they had forgotten.

Jake retrieved his rifle from the floor and went to join Gumby near the door.

"Next time, let's take the train," Gumby suggested as they exited the glider. Jake could only nod in agreement as the squad fled from the crash site.

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Timberwolf-
"Remind me of this with every decision: Generations will reap what I sow. I can pass on a curse or a blessing to those I will never know," Sara Groves.