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The weather was just miserable, the wind howled and half frozen rain rained down on a tormented marine platoon in the area surrounding Dublin. These soldiers weren’t the only ones willing to put up with the conditions though, the rest of the Marine Corps was there as well putting up with the same misery they were.



“When do we finally get to get on with this shit anyway?” Daniels yelled above the weather, it had been several hours and the lack of action was starting to get to him. Daniels’ words were on everyone’s mind but as the new guy in the unit he was the only one to bother asking. The rest of the platoon was hardened to these sort of conditions and had waited far longer in far worse for orders to come through.

“We’ll go when we’re told to, Jarhead, now shut up and enjoy the scenery!” The platoon officer barked back at Daniels. His reply was predictable and the half the platoon gave a slight chuckle when they heard it.

A few shells dropped around the soldiers, throwing up water, dirt, and deadly metal into the air. The British inside the city were trying to excite them into a poorly coordinated attack but they seemed confused about who they were fighting, a few shells here and there were no more than fire crackers for these soldiers.

Ten minutes, half an hour, the wait dragged on but when it was broken it was utterly spectacular. The instant the rain subdued just a tad the troops heard scores of aircraft buzzing over their heads, they seemed to barely miss the heads of the marines and their sudden and coordinated missile fire was deafening but they still managed to hear the screams of their Lieutenant, who had just received orders.



“RUN LIKE HELL FOR THE NEAREST LIMEY!”

Run like hell they did, straight towards the explosions lighting up their section of buildings they were assigned to take. British gun fire greeted their advance but it was sporadic and couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, they were completely unorganized from the harsh bombardment they were under and were poor troops to begin with.

Running and gunning the marines reached the first buildings, and received their tactical orders, move forward in fire teams and clear the streets. Their work was methodical and precise, and the British offered only light resistance.

The marines could barely move fast enough it seemed, short bursts of British rifle fire would be greeted by a hailstorm of American Lead as the marines ran hard and fast, building after building in close coordination with one another. These ground pounders had become Hellbringers and the enemy before them could only hope to run as fast as they were pursued.

They hadn’t even begun to slow when their lieutenant had to shout out “Friendlies” to control their mad rush, they had made it to their checkpoint and had met up with another platoon just finishing up the same job. The British ran off and the Marines had another victory to mark down. Long waits can mean Fast Action, and Daniels was learning that these soldiers met combat like no other unit. Dublin was theirs, the British were embarrassed, and the Marines were having a pretty decent day after all.



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