Eugene Ng (21)

4S1
Winning

The sun hung low over the horizon. Dappled clouds draped tin pink-orange gold
highlighted the fuchsia velvet sky. Thin shafts of light penetrated the tropical rainforest’s
canopy as the Fifth-Special Operations commando team set up satchel charges on the
embassy wall.

Their mission was simple and deadly. Infiltrate the embassy, with orders to shoot
on sight, and extract the governor held hostage by radical ex-soviet and extreme socialist
terrorists.

“You’ve got the new equipment?” John whispered.

“Yeah. New NSU-Type 80 Silenced High Explosives, some C4, and a new SR99-
C sniper.” Andrew replied.

“Fire in the hole!” Smith whispered over the team radio.

The wall surprisingly crumbled without a flash or a sound, as the team stepped
into the compound. A tank rumbled in the center of the courtyard, snipers perched high
up in the building and a minigun was mounted beside the entrance gate into the embassy.
Some terrorists smoked and laughed around a fire, AK-47s, M16s and M4 machine guns
propped up against hipbones or slung around shoulders. Anything less than a precise,
quick entry would be short and deadly.

Burning tires, some disabled cameras, blood and carbon scoring on the walls were
reminiscent of the previous efforts to defend the embassy. The remaining cameras
swiveled in their brackets but the team melted into the shadows, moving as quietly as oil
over oil. A searchlight blared on.

“Okay. Move in as quietly as possible,” Ben, the ranking officer ordered.

Suddenly, there was a shout. The searchlight swiveled over to the hole in the wall.
A terrorist walked over, rifle at the ready. Their cover was about to be blown, and the
mission would turn into a firefight.

“Abandon previous orders. Go! Go! Go!”

Daniel sat in his couch, tied-up and gagged. Two terrorists operated in shifts to
guard him. What they did not notice was that he kept Swiss-army knife in his pocket and
was slowly cutting through the strong ropes that had bound him. Suddenly, the muffled
sound of an automatic weapon rang out. The terrorist rushed out of the room. Cutting the
remaining cords, Daniel rubbed his wrists, spit out the gag and rushed over to a panel in
the wall, grabbing his .33 bolt-action shotgun and Glock machine pistol before going out
by the back door. Help had finally come.

Andrew picked off six snipers and two RPG-hefting men on the roof. The tank
rolled over a damaged BMW and the car shot up in flames before being totally crushed.
The cannon tracked them, and fired. The team scattered as the concrete wall shattered.

“Get some under that bastard!” Andrew shouted.

John rolled over, tossed three grenades under the tank and the team sprinted for
the door, weapons in full automatic, gunning down seven men on the fly. They crashed
headfirst into the main door, knocking it down. A tremendous explosion rocked the
building as the tank in the courtyard exploded. A steady hum started as the minigun
opened up on them. They dived into another room, guns ablaze. Smith screamed, and
blood sprayed the wall. John and Andrew fired in the general direction of the enemy as
Ben whipped out the First-Aid and filled Smith’s would with medical foam. The enemy
fell into the shadows and his spasms took out the minigun, which was still firing away.

“We’ll make it. I promise.” Ben whispered.

The large caliber shotgun recoiled powerfully again and again, clearing the way
of fallen pillars, locked doors and terrorists. Daniel saw the four man rescue team running
towards him and lifted the gun to identify himself.

“No time for introductions, I think,” shouted the governor over the weapon fire.

“Yeah! We’ve got to get to the top most level of the building. Now!” John
shouted back.

Part of the building was crumbling and alarms blared out warnings. The group
rushed up six flights of stairs. In the corridor, two terrorists appeared. They went down
from Ben’s well placed shots, but not before hurling two grenades. Andrew and Smith
switched to their snipers and shot both, mid-toss. John and the governor jumped into a
room as the grenade exploded, sending bricks and concrete flying. The others followed.
Ben hollered into the radio for help as the rest of the team took potshots at the terrorists
below.

Two minutes later, a CH-53 Sea Stallion helicopter roared into view, guns ablaze.
7.62mm depleted uranium rounds smashed through lines of fuel tankers, cremating all
around them. The helicopter hovered near the window and the gun operators indicated
that they had to jump. “Go!” Ben shouted. Andrew and Smith jumped on, just managing
the death-defying leap. The governor and the others soon followed. Ben made sure he
was the last to jump, tossing a grenade as another group of terrorists tried to break into
the room, wiping all of them out.
 “Great timing, always, eh?” Ben hollered over the thunderous roar of engines and
the chain-guns firing into the embassy.

“Yeah. Splendid to have you back!” Peter shouted back, the commanding officer
on the helicopter.

Engines screaming in full protest, Peter panned helicopter around its axis. The
gun operators swiveled around to face the remaining groups of terrorists and let fly their
rounds, hundreds of spent shell casings falling on deck every second. The rockets
slammed into the building and part of the embassy exploded, shockwaves shaking the
helicopter. Then, all was still. The helicopter thundered off into the night, leaving the
burning remains of the embassy behind.

It was a lucky, narrow, and adrenaline-inducing escape from the terrorist-held,

fiery hell-hole. Great collateral damage had been meted out, totally gutting the embassy.
But as according to the Special Operations credit, they followed orders right to the letter.

They had won, as they always did.