Hotel California III

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis

It was near to dusk when I halt the platoon. We still on the ridge on the hillside and there were covers there with the under growths and tree low branches. The others stopped in their tracks and crouched down. It was the standard procedure in patrols. They will be in a triangle from behind me, I was doing point, and with the six of us, it was five in the formation and the one that guarded our flank was a distance behind. The flanker held no fixed formation but moved to cover our backs.

I took out the binoculars. It held a built-in thermal lens. I switched to that and watched the bunker. The place was our destination. Christ! The bunker was built into the hill with the exit at the rear. The front of it with the open slit facing the valley below which was our primary order; to observe and report. It was a recce task and we were the third platoon to undertake it. The other two had retreated in fear despite their training. They flee with the officer and reported ‘demons and blood’. I could not protest to the commanding officer. It was my responsibility to accept the task.

We moved down and soon was in the bunker. I went in first and saw the equipment there all damaged. The chairs and table were still intact and so were the sleeping cots although it was to one corner. There was the writing on the wall. It was sprayed on.

Welcome to the Hotel California with the smiley face at the end.

“Corporal Gareth, set up the observation equipment at the opening.” I knew my second in command; the lad was from the docks. He was a tough Welsh-born and bred before he joined the Army. Private Matthew joined the Corporal to set up the observation equipment. That included the thermal and infra sighting equipment.

“Ian, you and Brian set up the defenses. I don’t want to be surprised with the claw at my throat.” The two Londoners grabbed their kit and went outside. They are the demolition and tripwires attached to explosives specialists. They were raised in the area of bricks and mortars but their training in the Army made them better at the new environment.

“Marlon, you set up the communication lines. I want to hear the CO better than your mother’s ramblings.” Marlon’s mother called weekly and when she gets us, she won’t stop telling me of her son, Marlon and her old Sicilian ways. It was a laughing game for all of us for Marlon was from Bristol.

“Harris, your old dog. Do your recce. I need to know where we are.” Corporal Harry Blanchard, the Scots was my flanker. He disliked being in the close quarters. He was a free soul when he was young with long walks in the highlands. He also likes to eat oat pieces of bread which he got it to send from his homeland.

My platoon was the recce specialist with the rifles; we are also called snipers. We are short in the numbers with the Lieutenant on leave and one other specialist, Logan was interned for medical ailments. We were short in the company and when the task came up, we were volunteered. We are the toughest in the Army or claimed by ourselves. Heck! It did well for our motivation and the battles read to our favor.

Soon after at our supper break, we all sat down to have a rest. Harris was still outside, possibly in his dugout and covered with moss and leaves. He was the best in the platoon but was a loner. The last attribute worked well for a sniper.

“Sarge, permission to speak.” I looked at Brian. He just joined us two months ago there in the Balkans. I liked him; the youngest among us and the only redhead. We do call him Red which irate him so we stopped. Well, on occasions we still do.

“Yes, you can and out here without the LT, you can call me by my name.” I was informal with my mates. It was one way to bond and we knew our boundaries. We do drink and held our glasses high on those events but when it comes to duty, I trust them with my life. And their’ with me.

“Jimmy, what is this place? I heard the others retreated in fear. There were four casualties. Three were wounded and refused to talk. The others unhurt but were lie shell shocked. Or PSTD.” Brian raised a concern that I knew was a matter that needed to be addressed. The others were polite in my books, but they held their questions to the last. Or let the new one speaks first. I had seen the religious icons on their necks and chests. We may be killers or takers of lives, but we still have our beliefs in the faith. I was a free thinker. Ten years on the street and another ten in the Army had hardened my belief was my own doing. The last ten was more on my weapons from the Army issued blade to the handgun and the semi-automatic. I saw Marlon had his rifle etched with the Sicilian symbol of the  ‘omerta’. It meant the ‘code of silence’ and literally means “manhood”. It was the idea of a man dealing without the help of a law-body. I asked Marlon of his code but was stifled by the silent treatment.

“Brian, ignore those tales. We don’t have any confirmation. And the CO had sent the SAS to investigate and there was nothing. And now we are here. We will do our primary task.” I advised Brian. I looked to the others who looked away from my glare. They were not convinced but they have sworn allegiance to me, and it meant we are in it together.

“Hotel California? Was that the song…” Marlon then started humming the song. And everyone added in the lyrics to the best of their knowledge. It was an old song but stayed as the favorite to be played on the radio waves. We did not hear the communication call from Harris for a moment. It was Marlon who heard it and held up his hands. He then took the hearing unit and listened in.

“Fuck ye laddies. We are on a task here. Not a Sunday choir. So, stop the merriment.” Corporal Harris did the harsh reminder on all of us on the main communication unit. We all have personal communication units but we were too loud to hear it. I canceled the singing and then told them to rest. I was to take the first watch. Matthew next and then just before dawn, Ian.

When I was on duty, I played the reports I read on the last two platoons. It was not much with the platoon members keeping quiet except for some ramblings.

“Demons.”

“Wolves.”

“Blood drinkers.”

Three key words recorded. The doctors’ diagnosis was ‘fear’ was eating them from the inside. I have seen soldiers with such disorders. They were the sufferers of losses of friends’ holding or seeing their friends die in battles. Or the massacre scene; it can be unnerving for the new recruits. They have never seen a mass grave before. It took time to absorb the fear. The Army has two approaches to the issue; hardened them or shipped them back. The last was the discharge order.

I may have snoozed off and then I heard the sound. It was not a noise but some sort of sound. I woke up and reached for my semi-automatic. Army issued rifle; the SA80 which fires the 5.56x45mm NATO, with an effective range of three hundred meters, 30 rounds detachable clip, and at over six hundred rounds per minute. That was for close combat. Harris, Corporal Gareth, and Ian also have the L115A3. Each of us carried a pouch with the .338 Lapua Magnum and the loaded five rounds in the clip. The rifle was the sniper weapon with a range of over 1,500 meters. We can drop the enemy with one shot in the head.

“Harris. Give me a rep.” I communicated to Corporal Harris.

No reply. I tried a few more times. No answers. It was time to wake the others.

“Gareth, I am going out. I want the place watched.” I unlatched the rear door. It was wooden and with a thickness of two fingers gap. I opened the door and went out. Someone closed the door behind me. I heard the latch was placed in again. I was alone out there in the darkness. I had to wait for a while for the eyes to adjust. The darkness soon became clearer but I strapped on my night goggles. I looked around to see any abnormalities. Funny, how I used that term. I should say heat traces. They were a few but too small to be a human.

“Harris. I am coming out. Rear entrance.” I was not keen to be shot by that mad Scots. I half crouched and took a short dash towards the tree trunk. I had marked it as T1. It was our mapping guidance. I moved onto the next tree designated T2. I knew Harris mode of camouflage. He maintained a distance of about two hundred feet away but which direction. I deduced that Harris will be on the higher level to hold a wider view of the bunker and the valley. I have my area triangulated into a narrow beam of forty degrees view. I focussed there and looked for any abnormalities. Again, I used that word.

I could not find Harris and his enclosure. He was either getting better or dead. The later was our last conclusion but a possibility. I switched my angle of search and found him next to the tree designated T13.

“Damn you, Harris. You could have found a better tree.” I mumbled to myself. I knew Harris was a ‘bad omen’ chap despite his wilderness skills. Harris confessed to me he visits the ‘big toe of David Hume’ in Edinburgh when he was in the city. He was secretive about it.

I dashed over and then reached the hidden spot. There was no Harris but he left his poncho there. And his L115A3. Loaded and armed. It was not Harris or any of my mates careless doing. They knew my rules. Your weapons with you even if you go to the bathroom. I moved his poncho to check on his other kits. It was all there, except his SA80. I looked out and tried to figure out where he could have gone missing.

“Sarge ...” The communication buzzed. It was from Harris. “There are some …. Thing out there.”

“Be clear, Corporal.” I disliked understood messages. “Over.”

“Sarge, I am not sure but something is out there. I doubt its human.” Harris was not the one to be spooked. I was not that too. Not anymore since then. I was getting spooked. I don’t know why but the words from the reports played into my mind.

“Oh, fuck it.” I tried to reinforce my strength. I tried to remember the prayers which I used to recite. I hoped it works for I heard from Harris next.

“Sarge, three o’clock. Down the hill. The second line of defense. Number five.” Ian had a style for his trips. He sets them in a semi-circular pattern with three lines, it was eight, five and three deployments. The second line of five trips was inside the designated perimeter. Ian placed a broken branch with leave at the first and last trip fifteen feet apart. Then after it was thirty feet between the lines. I paced out the lines and the trips. I looked at number five. It was in-between the trees there.

There was something there. It was not moving.

“Harris, I am going there.” I made my way down. It was almost to the valley bed. I saw the small creek there. The water was flowing there.

“Cover me,” I called Harris. I was about twenty feet away. I looked hard. It was covered with leaves and unmoving. I crawled on and then saw my item of interest. It was a fox. Most unusual to find one. It was still alive. I could see the exhaling in its snort. I reached it and the creature snarled at me. I swept the leaves away and saw the wound. It was not a gunshot wound but a tear in the belly. The blood was still seeping out. It was coloring the ground beneath the fox. The wound was recent and the covered leaves were also recent. I reached out to the fox head and noticed it had stopped breathing.

I knew about foxes. My ex-wife was doing research on it when she was doing her papers on Myths of the Forest. She will tell me these tales when all I wanted to do was sleep or fuck. Heck! I was in my early thirties and I only get to see her on my furlough.

“Jimmy, the fox is a trickster.” I thought she was one too. She tricked me to marry her saying she was with my child It was a hoax. “In Europe to the U.K., they are considered the same. The Scots called them tod in “traditional term” and was represented as Lowrence. In Finland, the fox thought weaker and smaller could outfox the bear. It was in the Middle Ages the fox was associated with wiliness and fraudulent behavior. They were also sacrificed in rituals as the symbols of the Devil.”

I called her the Tasmanian Devil. We went out ways after three years. She cleaned out my bank accounts before she left. Bitch!

“Harris. It was a fox. I am bringing it in.” I learned to carry the carcass and it was then I heard the other sound. It was an eerie note. It brought me the coldness over my body.

“Banshee?” The word came to my lips.

“Yes, Sarge. They are here.” Harris spoke into my communications. “They are wailing the death is coming.”

“I am going back in.” I communicated to Harris. “Watch me back.”

It was then I heard the shot. I don’t who and where it came from but I ducked deep into the ground. I waited and there were no more shots. I press the comms to Harris.

“Who did that?” There was no reply. I communicated to the Gareth.

“No idea, Sarge. We are looking.” Gareth replied. “Ian said he saw something but could not make it out.”

“Stay alert. I am coming in. Nine o’clock. Don’t hump my back.” I crawled forward. It was slower to ascent the hillside. I made a short dash between the trees and bushes. I made ten paces when I heard the explosion. It was Ian’s handiwork to my far left. I saw the leaves billowed in the winds but no screams. I expected something alive to scream. There was none. The second trip went off and it was nearer to me. I ducked down and waited.

No screams.

Then the shots went out. It was from the bunker to the opposite hillside and the valley. There were reciprocated with return fire. There were some screams.

Human ones.

Wounded by the sound of it.

Was it fatal?

Then I saw the muzzle flash and then the missile was seen by me impacting the bunker. Damn, I was not expecting such resistance. We had no intel on the enemies having RPG or launchers in the area. It was either madness or lack of intel. I had to get back to my mates.

“Gareth, I am coming in hard.” I stood up and ran. I picked my legs over the roots and stepped on the dead leaves. Another trip went off and it was to my right. There were no trips there. I stopped and leaned on the tree trunk. I was about fifty feet to the bunker but I needed to know who planted the trip there. The one which exploded.

It then dawned on me I have moved position. I was no more on the nine o’clock approach but the two o’clock. I was baffled how I could have run across instead of upwards. I turned to look at the bunker. It was to my right. How could it have moved? Maybe it was me. I press the communication to Harris.

Harris did not reply.

The bullet barely missed me. It went in deep into the trunk just above my head. If I had not crouched down, I would have been part of the tree.

“Gareth.” I change the channel. And it was then I saw the firing inside the bunker and then another missile impacted on the bunker below the observation opening. I think part of the fragments of the missile could have penetrated the wall there. My mates were inside. I charged out and with the SA80 emptying the clip to my rear, I ran rashly towards the bunker. I was shot at but the bullets missed me. I reached the bunker wall and then I made my way to the rear. I stopped at the doorway.

“It's me. I am coming in.” I pushed the door, and it was unlatched. I had to push harder to open the door. The smell of cordite and blood impacted on my nose. I shook my head before I stepped in. I saw my mates there.

Gareth was lifeless. He was hit on the face, chest, and legs. With the flak jacket, the protection was not much to rave about. It cannot cover everywhere. We were not issued bulletproof visors.

Ian was with a huge hole in the chest. I suspected the fragment from the missile did that mess.

Marlon was curled on the ground, and his wound was in his buttocks. He could have run for safety and was hit.

Brian was unhurt, but he huddled below the torn wall. He was holding his knees with his arms. He was sobbing in fear.

The weird eerie sound resonated in the valley then. Then I saw Harris stepped in. He looked like a wreck. Maybe it was the camouflage but he had a wounded left shoulder.

“It was the demons. The Banshee warned us. It was too late.” Harris moaned out. “I tried to hunt the Banshee. I wanted to silence it. It was too fast. It moved so fast that I cannot get my aim on it. I return here.”

I heard Harris and then checked the equipment. All of it was disabled or damaged by the explosion. I told Harris to get Ian, and Marlon.

“We are retreating.” I looked at the wordings on the wall.

Welcome to the Hotel California with the smiley face at the end.

I took out my red marker pen. I strike out the words California. I wrote Osnabruck. It was the ancient stone structure that was assumed to be part of a pagan temple and graveyard. It was also the site of a bloody massacre of priests during Charlemagne's reign.

“Are you bloody mad?” Harris hit me. “You are doing graffiti when we are to save our asses.”

Across the hillside, another pair of soldiers were stationed there. One of the pair was wounded.

“Dummkopt, Edwin. I told you to keep your head down.” Corporal Ernest held the younger recruit in his arms. They were assigned to watch the valley by the High Command. The pair were part of the KSK Kommando Spezialkrafte ( KSK ) and had camped there for three nights. They ignored the bunker for there were rumors of it being haunted.

“We camped in the rough. We are KSK.” Corporal Ernest took pride in the unit. “We are not weiners.”

The task was to observe and they saw the men descend into the bunker. They saw them set up tripwires.

“Verboten works in the forest. The inhabitants could be hurt.” Edwin was an advocate for wild animal safety.

It was Edwin’s fault when he tilted the binoculars into the direction of the sun. The sunlight could have deflected off it. The shot came then. Edwin was hit on the left side of the face. He was barely alive when the Corporal returned fire. The HK MP5 fires 800 rounds per minute of its 19mm Parabellum to a maximum of two hundred meters. He emptied both the rifles and then reached for the heavier gun. The HK 21 Light machine gun carries the NATO issued 5.56 with nine hundred rounds per minute and further distance of over two thousand meters. It was an effective cover fire gun but against the bunker thick wall, it was just redecorating the wall surface.

“I will get you.” The Corporal picked up the MBT LAW ( Main Battle Tank Light Anti Tank Weapon ) loaned to them by the British Army to counter the heavily armored tanks. The gun fires the 150mm Warhead to an effective maximum range of six hundred meters.

“Arschloch!” The Corporal cursed in German when he released the missile. It impacted on the bunker wall. He tossed that aside to use the machine gun. He emptied the clip and tossed that aside. He saw the second MBT LAW and grabbed it. He leveled it and braced for the recoil. He pressed the trigger and watched the impact just below the observation opening. The wall was partially brought down. He was exalted with the shot.

“Now we go home, Edwin.” The Corporal grabbed the later over and made his way up the hillside.

Two days later, I made my report to the Commanding Officer. I was sent to the rear of the line and rested. A week later, I appeared in front of the Martial Court. I was told of the new findings.

“We sent a bigger patrol out. We recovered the other bodies and some equipment. The rest we destroyed.” The Major handling the proceedings reported to the Panel of Senior Officers. “We found only a 5.56 mm caliber. No 7.62 mm at all. We can’t pin that on assumed enemies. We found another dugout on the opposite hillside and it was cleared of any evidence. It was unusual but we have no more evidence. We also did not find anything out of the normal. No demons or signs of it.”

I gave my testimony that I was outside. I did not see any demons. I did not report on the weird sound. No one will believe me of the Banshee.

Harris decided to remain silent and was discharged with a need to undergo medical checks. Marlon and Brian were sent back and given desk duty. Marlon left six months later and became a priest. I was retained in the Army. I was transferred to Logistics. I was logging in deliveries schedules

Hauptmann Brandt has sent a clean-up team to clear the dugout. “Leave no trace of our people.” In their report, they did not see any bunker as reported by the previous do. It was dismissed as battle fatigue. Corporal Ernest was promoted and given a commendation. Edwin died from his wound and given a posthumous award and his family the pension.

“It all ends well. Like before, they won’t know.” The elderly man placed his left hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “The valley has its own way to protect itself. Do you understand.”

“Yes, grandfather.” The kid replied and then adjusted the volume on this headphone. It was playing an old song.

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis

Song Lyrics from the song Hotel California