Creative Writing: The End Of War

Frost paused to look at Wolf and Leopard, then turned back to the remaining Iraqis, firing his weapon in three-round controlled bursts. More Republican Guard appeared, surrounding the lone Wolf-Pack soldier. Frost's rifle clacked, empty. He pulled out his Sig P228 pistol and continued to fire. A grenade exploded one meter away; Frost tumbled through the air, and landed unmoving. The video paused on his body, the frames unmoving. "And that's all we have," Brigadier Richardson stated. Alexander continued to stare at the screen, his heart racing, half-expecting the video to come to life and show Frost and Wolf picking up Leopard to limp off the battlefield together. For four years Alexander had trained and led them, growing to respect them.

He had failed them, hadn't prepared them enough. He should have been a part of their mission briefing, rectified any flaws in their plans and fixed them faster. Oliver reached over and tapped the Brigadier's keyboard. The video blanked and faded away. Richardson shot the Staff Corporal a glare, but Oliver ignored him. "Drone surveillance by the 1st Ranger Battalion shows that Tikrit has been abandoned, the General said. "The Iraqi forces withdrew due to concentrated fire from the United States 3rd Infantry Division and casualties sustained in fighting Wolf-Pack." "Just to clarify," Alexander whispered, and then he paused to clear his throat. "There were no survivors of Operation SUNFIRE?" "It is regrettable." The Lieutenant General said with the slightest regret noticeable in his voice. "But we would do it again if presented with a similar opportunity, Major. Such a high-level meeting within striking distance of our forces would have ended this war with a few days. And while they failed to achieve the objectives of their mission, your men and women are heroes." Ashes. That was all Alexander felt. He glanced at Oliver. There was no emotion on his face. The man held his pain well. "I understand, sir." Alexander