09-03-2019, 10:06 PM
BATTLE OF POINT ALPHA - PART III
Massacre of Old Saybrook
Point Alpha
The Village of Old Saybrook
"What is this town called?" Commander Wilson shouted at one of the captive insurgents. The insurgent he was referring to, kneeling in the grass, looked up at the commander and scowled his mouth, remaining silent and dotting his eyes back and forth the the other captives on the clearing. Commander Wilson patted his hand to his thigh, and one of the soldiers flanking him stepped forward, grabbing the insurgent by the collar and pushing him to the ground. A second soldier smashed the butt of his rifle to the insurgents neck, knocking him face first with a crack to the dirt.
"Is this town Old Saybrook?" The commander yelled aggressively, voice cracking with anger now. Private Nicholas Henners stood behind the ring of soldiers, he and Perch keeping watch. He knew the commander knew that the village known as Point Alpha was Old Saybrook, and every soldier knew that too. He was curious as to why the commander was so assertive in confirming the name of the village, and likewise was stunned by the sudden show of force against a prisoner of war, especially amidst so many civilians who were camped on the ground with them.
At the moment the insurgent was knocked to the ground, a woman started crying. Through tears, she managed to stutter in her Bjeorgite accent.
"This is Old Saybrook."
Wilson sighed, the breath of anger seeping into the damp afternoon air. "Thank you," he said to the woman, "but I wasn't asking you." Wilson upholstered his side arm and pressed it to the insurgent's head. Nicholas jumped when the shattering crack of the pistol rang through the beach, causing shock and panic and screams to exude from the gathered crowd. The Zamastanian soldiers, many of them visibly shocked, remained still and at attention. Their commander had just killed an unarmed prisoner over a question he already knew the answer to. But, they remained silent. At least it was one of the bad guys.
Commander Wilson wiped specks of blood from his brow with his glove, cocked his side arm, and walked over to another insurgent, pointing the weapon at his head.
"Next question, and use that last one as an example," Wilson said, gesturing towards the dead body on the ground. "Where is your commander?"
"He ran off when you started landing. He left us to defend the beach front." The insurgent was shaking. He was a younger middle aged man, no younger than 30 but no older than 35. "Please, sir, we're conscripted. This is my village, we were just defending our families from the Maximusians. Most of us didn't even know the Zamastanians were helping the mainland. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been here-"
"I don't want to hear it." Wilson raised his hand and a soldier brought over a mobile comm device. "You know the channel your commander is on. You're going to give us his channel and we're going to talk to him. Convince him to come back to the beach."
"Yessir," the man responded, quivering. "Channel 6 point 7-3."
The soldier put the channel input into the device, and Commander Wilson began speaking.
"This is commander Wilson of the Zamastanian Armed Forces. We have captured Old Saybrook and have several of your men in our custody. If you do not surrender yourself to our forces, there will be consequences."
Several moments of silence followed before a voice came over the intercom. "This is Commander Bartholomew. Congratulations on taking the village, but I heard you lost some planes," Bartholomew chucked softly over the radio.
Wilson spoke into the speaker, "can you hear me, Bartholomew?"
"Yes, I can."
"Can you hear this?" Wilson gestured to the insurgent. "Speak."
The insurgent perked up, swallowed, and began speaking. "Commander, you should surren-"
Wilson squeezed his trigger once again, and the insurgent's body flattened to the grass. Screams once again came from the women and children in the group of huddled captives. Nicholas dropped his weapon in reaction, and upon realizing it, he quickly picked up his rifle and stood back at attention. Commander Wilson screamed into the air.
"This war has barely begun, Bartholomew. I swear, if you are not back on this beach in one hour, I will kill every single man on this beach."
"Commander Wilson," Bartholomew pleaded on the other end of the crackling intercom, "please, think straight. Your authorities will have your head for this."
"They'll never know. This is a war after all, and every single one of these people is an enemy combatant."
Nicholas took several steps back, prepping for what he feared would be a bloodbath. The intercom was quiet until a squeak signaled the voice press on the other end.
"I'm not coming back to the beach," Bartholomew responded quietly. "Heaven help you, commander."
"I don't need heaven." Commander Wilson snapped his fingers and the intercom system was taken away. Aiming his pistol at another man in ragged clothes, marked by a yellow tape as an insurgent, Wilson fired. The bullet entered the man's chest, and he crumpled forward, dead. "Kill every man on this beach!" Wilson shouted at the soldiers. "If you don't, I will hold you in contempt of assisting enemy forces and refusing orders of battle!"
The people huddled on the beach began to panic, pure terror and horror overwhelming their expressions. It took most of the soldiers several moments, realizing what as happening. Some cocked their rifles and reloaded, some were unsure what to do.
"These are enemy combatants! They killed your friends and fellow soldiers." Wilson shot another man to the ground. Two soldiers looked at each other and in unison, raised their weapons and began spraying into the huddled mass of people. As bodies began to spread out across the grass, Nicholas and Perch looked on in horror.
This is wrong, this is evil, Nicholas thought. He began to instinctively raise his weapon in the direction of Commander Wilson, about to end the chaos by killing the source. Before he could squeeze his trigger, Wilson's head puffed in a red spray, and he crumpled to the beach ground. Perch stood behind him, rifle smoking. He then opened fire on the other two soldiers who were shooting the captives, killing them. The gunfire halted, and everyone, soldiers, and captives, sat unsure of what to do next. Should they run, or was there about to be more bloodshed?
Perch, red and shaking in realization of what he had just done, shouted loudly towards the civilians and captive insurgents alike. "Get out of here, go!"
Everyone who had been huddled in the clearing stood and started running back to the village and the hills. The insurgents were not carrying weapons now, and they would spend the rest of the war hiding away from the rebels and the invaders. For the soldiers left on the beach, they called in "commander down" over the radio. They moved bodies of the commander and the two soldiers who participated in the massacre to various locations on the beach and village so as to make it look like they were killed in battle. The citizens and insurgent bodies were also moved. 27 people, not including Commander Austin Wilson and his cohorts, were slain in Old Saybrook.
Massacre of Old Saybrook
Point Alpha
The Village of Old Saybrook
"What is this town called?" Commander Wilson shouted at one of the captive insurgents. The insurgent he was referring to, kneeling in the grass, looked up at the commander and scowled his mouth, remaining silent and dotting his eyes back and forth the the other captives on the clearing. Commander Wilson patted his hand to his thigh, and one of the soldiers flanking him stepped forward, grabbing the insurgent by the collar and pushing him to the ground. A second soldier smashed the butt of his rifle to the insurgents neck, knocking him face first with a crack to the dirt.
"Is this town Old Saybrook?" The commander yelled aggressively, voice cracking with anger now. Private Nicholas Henners stood behind the ring of soldiers, he and Perch keeping watch. He knew the commander knew that the village known as Point Alpha was Old Saybrook, and every soldier knew that too. He was curious as to why the commander was so assertive in confirming the name of the village, and likewise was stunned by the sudden show of force against a prisoner of war, especially amidst so many civilians who were camped on the ground with them.
At the moment the insurgent was knocked to the ground, a woman started crying. Through tears, she managed to stutter in her Bjeorgite accent.
"This is Old Saybrook."
Wilson sighed, the breath of anger seeping into the damp afternoon air. "Thank you," he said to the woman, "but I wasn't asking you." Wilson upholstered his side arm and pressed it to the insurgent's head. Nicholas jumped when the shattering crack of the pistol rang through the beach, causing shock and panic and screams to exude from the gathered crowd. The Zamastanian soldiers, many of them visibly shocked, remained still and at attention. Their commander had just killed an unarmed prisoner over a question he already knew the answer to. But, they remained silent. At least it was one of the bad guys.
Commander Wilson wiped specks of blood from his brow with his glove, cocked his side arm, and walked over to another insurgent, pointing the weapon at his head.
"Next question, and use that last one as an example," Wilson said, gesturing towards the dead body on the ground. "Where is your commander?"
"He ran off when you started landing. He left us to defend the beach front." The insurgent was shaking. He was a younger middle aged man, no younger than 30 but no older than 35. "Please, sir, we're conscripted. This is my village, we were just defending our families from the Maximusians. Most of us didn't even know the Zamastanians were helping the mainland. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been here-"
"I don't want to hear it." Wilson raised his hand and a soldier brought over a mobile comm device. "You know the channel your commander is on. You're going to give us his channel and we're going to talk to him. Convince him to come back to the beach."
"Yessir," the man responded, quivering. "Channel 6 point 7-3."
The soldier put the channel input into the device, and Commander Wilson began speaking.
"This is commander Wilson of the Zamastanian Armed Forces. We have captured Old Saybrook and have several of your men in our custody. If you do not surrender yourself to our forces, there will be consequences."
Several moments of silence followed before a voice came over the intercom. "This is Commander Bartholomew. Congratulations on taking the village, but I heard you lost some planes," Bartholomew chucked softly over the radio.
Wilson spoke into the speaker, "can you hear me, Bartholomew?"
"Yes, I can."
"Can you hear this?" Wilson gestured to the insurgent. "Speak."
The insurgent perked up, swallowed, and began speaking. "Commander, you should surren-"
Wilson squeezed his trigger once again, and the insurgent's body flattened to the grass. Screams once again came from the women and children in the group of huddled captives. Nicholas dropped his weapon in reaction, and upon realizing it, he quickly picked up his rifle and stood back at attention. Commander Wilson screamed into the air.
"This war has barely begun, Bartholomew. I swear, if you are not back on this beach in one hour, I will kill every single man on this beach."
"Commander Wilson," Bartholomew pleaded on the other end of the crackling intercom, "please, think straight. Your authorities will have your head for this."
"They'll never know. This is a war after all, and every single one of these people is an enemy combatant."
Nicholas took several steps back, prepping for what he feared would be a bloodbath. The intercom was quiet until a squeak signaled the voice press on the other end.
"I'm not coming back to the beach," Bartholomew responded quietly. "Heaven help you, commander."
"I don't need heaven." Commander Wilson snapped his fingers and the intercom system was taken away. Aiming his pistol at another man in ragged clothes, marked by a yellow tape as an insurgent, Wilson fired. The bullet entered the man's chest, and he crumpled forward, dead. "Kill every man on this beach!" Wilson shouted at the soldiers. "If you don't, I will hold you in contempt of assisting enemy forces and refusing orders of battle!"
The people huddled on the beach began to panic, pure terror and horror overwhelming their expressions. It took most of the soldiers several moments, realizing what as happening. Some cocked their rifles and reloaded, some were unsure what to do.
"These are enemy combatants! They killed your friends and fellow soldiers." Wilson shot another man to the ground. Two soldiers looked at each other and in unison, raised their weapons and began spraying into the huddled mass of people. As bodies began to spread out across the grass, Nicholas and Perch looked on in horror.
This is wrong, this is evil, Nicholas thought. He began to instinctively raise his weapon in the direction of Commander Wilson, about to end the chaos by killing the source. Before he could squeeze his trigger, Wilson's head puffed in a red spray, and he crumpled to the beach ground. Perch stood behind him, rifle smoking. He then opened fire on the other two soldiers who were shooting the captives, killing them. The gunfire halted, and everyone, soldiers, and captives, sat unsure of what to do next. Should they run, or was there about to be more bloodshed?
Perch, red and shaking in realization of what he had just done, shouted loudly towards the civilians and captive insurgents alike. "Get out of here, go!"
Everyone who had been huddled in the clearing stood and started running back to the village and the hills. The insurgents were not carrying weapons now, and they would spend the rest of the war hiding away from the rebels and the invaders. For the soldiers left on the beach, they called in "commander down" over the radio. They moved bodies of the commander and the two soldiers who participated in the massacre to various locations on the beach and village so as to make it look like they were killed in battle. The citizens and insurgent bodies were also moved. 27 people, not including Commander Austin Wilson and his cohorts, were slain in Old Saybrook.