Mission Debriefs

I can’t help it; this game is so cool. 😆

So, how did it go? Send in your ArmA stories and don’t win a prize.

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Word came to us of an armed uprising in Southern Sahrani. Intelligence indicated the rebels’ base was in wooded and hilly countryside, and that they’d setup illegal road-blocks in the same area.

The weather was miserable; frequent heavy rain squalls lashed us and thunder cracked the sky. This didn’t dent our morale one bit! We deployed in a truck and jeep to well within a mile of the road-blocks before disembarking and proceeding cross-country towards the target zone. Our pointman cautiously led us to a position on a wooded ridge overlooking the Eastern road-block. The road was East-West and we looked down to the South from our ridge in the North.
The rebels were down below, milling about in the vicinity of the red and white barrier gate they’d erected across the road. There was already an air of semi-permanence about the huts beside the road. The rebels brandished their weapons openly and appeared mostly unconcerned.

The forest of tall, coniferous trees gently swaying gave us good visual cover and deadened the sound of the persistent rain falling through the canopy above. After some time spent observing the enemy, the squad-leader lined us up along the ridge and ensured we all had good fields of fire. On his command, we poured rifle and machine-gun fire into the rebels, killing most of them in just a few seconds. Firing became sporadic as individual squaddies made the most of ‘weapons free’ to fire upon any movement below. Several times, incoming fire was overwhelmingly returned by mg’s and HE grenades.

Whilst our medic tended to the few minor wounds inflicted by the enemy on a couple of the men, rebel counter-attacks from the road East were mercilessly defeated, their flanking no match for our all-seeing position on the ridge.

Soon it was time to mop up and move on. Another road-block several hundred metres to the West had been similarly overrun by our buddies in Bravo, who were even now pushing deeper into the forest towards the putative location of the rebel base.

I was elected pointman for the descent to the roadblock. Needless to say, I proceeded with utmost caution, the others taking my lead, hanging back, all with weapons raised. I’d move a step or three, and pause to check half the compass ahead. Ducking under low, obscuring branches provided constant excitement.

At about fifteen metres from the barrier (it was the type which consists of a long bar and a counter-weight allowing it to be swung up and down with ease), I happened to catch sight of a civilian’s shoulder and arm through a narrow angle of windows in adjacent walls of the nearest hut. I could see the stock of a Russian automatic-rifle pressed into the shoulder. Reporting this, I moved forward slightly to check another angle – which was clear – and the guy at my six dropped the semi-concealed enemy with some fancy shooting of which he was particularly proud.

Continuing, I reached the road. There were bodies everywhere, most concentrated to my right just inside the barrier (which was raised for some reason). Beyond the corpses lying in grotesquery, I caught movement: a flash of yellow diving behind a white saloon car abandoned 50 metres away within the blocked section of road to the West.

I was a little too exposed, halfway across the road and hit the deck yelling out: “CONTACT! Road West! Suppressing fire!”, in a fit of controlled terror mixed with prayer. The squad reacted fast and fire was pouring down the road even as I took aim myself. Some of the shooting was even going to the right area. Another of the squad, not knowing where the enemy was, sprinted for cover against the wall of the nearby hut – a good choice but one that nevertheless proved fatal.

The squad-leader ordered us to get some grenades into the target. Though everyone now knew the rebel was taking cover behind the car, I was remained the only person in a position to effectively engage him. I readied a nade and announced my throw. I could tell that it was a good throw the moment it left my hand, and a feeling of self-congratulation stirred at the base of my spine and coiled ready to spring up into my head.

And then, disaster!

Tragedy. Against all probability, my grenade hit the tapering top of the raised barrier and ricocheted almost directly down onto the road. I gagged in horror, speechless. Two men to my right saw it happen and they sprang away shouting: “Dive!” and “Cover!”. The guy by the hut didn’t even know about it; the grenade had stopped three metres from his side and I knew there was nothing I could do. Helplessly, I watched the explosion, saw him lifted away from the wall and for a moment I fooled myself into thinking he’d be okay because he came down on his feet. But nobody haemorrhaging blood on such a scale could ever be okay, and the illusion left me as he crumpled awkwardly into the leaf litter.

In a moment, the medic was at his side but could do nothing except pronounce him dead. It was then that I realised my own predicament: there was blood in my eyes and running down my left arm. I also became vaguely aware that someone had called out: “Enemy down”. The medic fixed me up but all I could think about was poor Carly stood near that grenade, unaware and the empty silent time stretching out like an agonising eternity before releasing in the blast of HE.

To be continued…

…if I can be arsed! 🙄 😳