deepundergroundpoetry.com
Militia
"Sure this is genuine? "
The words betrayed his gaze. The former and the latter took choiced turns as the disguisers kept murdering the pace between the geographic setting that held the northern alliance from Shamar's militia.
Their hands were up, bellicose of veiled implications on the part of the northern alliance. That was not as expected. That wouldn't have happened at the sanity of the mental horizon. Something must be wrong. But, what turn the wrong took, none could trace, not even Lambz,the leader of the ODA 596.
He needed no soothsayer to relate to him the implication of the nuances exhibited by Gafar's militia : sudden metamorphoses in choice of action towards his men. He knew they were up to something, but enthroning doubt over gigantesque other opinions at battle front ain't the right lips to kiss. But for sure, he knew that a flute is playing under the ocean crazed in torrent 23°c.
Intervals of two hours had birthed exchange of bullets between the northern alliance and the militia of Gafar, the warlord and tyrant over the suburb of Afghanistan. Bullets flying in the air, making a whistle of heart cutting jives as it pricked courage, ushering the darings into the tunnel of cowardice. Twenty five men amongst the northern alliance had changed their address to heaven, as the bullets had bore them on their wings to the celestial home.
Razaq, the captain over Gafar's militia had ordered a stationed folk to keep the rocket bomb going nonstop till the trained trackers took their turn. The only moment they were allowed to stop was the 90 seconds they were to use in reloading the armor tank. Without that, none would be so gutsy to stay his peace.
As the rockets kept coming to their end, instead of retreat, Lambz, the cap of ODA 596 charged, alongside with his men, forward, towards the ruthless Razaq, dodging the rockets as one kicked his cap off his head.
"Holy Shit "
He mumbled. He kept riding on the horse with his subjects till the air support released bombs in a division of Razaq's men.
As the smoke that commemorated the explosion subsided, then were these men of Razaq seen tottering towards Lambz and his men, with hands held up. Which had prompted the question that had betrayed his intention.
"Cap, not sure these dudes mean this".
He wasn't isolated in the thought. Greene could also see from his frame of reference.
As the doubt kept permeating his thoughts, Razaq men that were tottering kept moving closer until Lambz chewed an order under a spell of breath:
"Greene, check those guys out... "
Those words were hardly out before one of Razaq's men holding up his hand yelled...
"Allahu Arkba".
The death of that cry gave life to explosions of bombs strapped to the paraphernalia of Razaq's men.
You can't psych out the Afghanistans.
18:07:16:21:40
Note: Inspired by "12 Strong ", a ©2018 American movie.
The words betrayed his gaze. The former and the latter took choiced turns as the disguisers kept murdering the pace between the geographic setting that held the northern alliance from Shamar's militia.
Their hands were up, bellicose of veiled implications on the part of the northern alliance. That was not as expected. That wouldn't have happened at the sanity of the mental horizon. Something must be wrong. But, what turn the wrong took, none could trace, not even Lambz,the leader of the ODA 596.
He needed no soothsayer to relate to him the implication of the nuances exhibited by Gafar's militia : sudden metamorphoses in choice of action towards his men. He knew they were up to something, but enthroning doubt over gigantesque other opinions at battle front ain't the right lips to kiss. But for sure, he knew that a flute is playing under the ocean crazed in torrent 23°c.
Intervals of two hours had birthed exchange of bullets between the northern alliance and the militia of Gafar, the warlord and tyrant over the suburb of Afghanistan. Bullets flying in the air, making a whistle of heart cutting jives as it pricked courage, ushering the darings into the tunnel of cowardice. Twenty five men amongst the northern alliance had changed their address to heaven, as the bullets had bore them on their wings to the celestial home.
Razaq, the captain over Gafar's militia had ordered a stationed folk to keep the rocket bomb going nonstop till the trained trackers took their turn. The only moment they were allowed to stop was the 90 seconds they were to use in reloading the armor tank. Without that, none would be so gutsy to stay his peace.
As the rockets kept coming to their end, instead of retreat, Lambz, the cap of ODA 596 charged, alongside with his men, forward, towards the ruthless Razaq, dodging the rockets as one kicked his cap off his head.
"Holy Shit "
He mumbled. He kept riding on the horse with his subjects till the air support released bombs in a division of Razaq's men.
As the smoke that commemorated the explosion subsided, then were these men of Razaq seen tottering towards Lambz and his men, with hands held up. Which had prompted the question that had betrayed his intention.
"Cap, not sure these dudes mean this".
He wasn't isolated in the thought. Greene could also see from his frame of reference.
As the doubt kept permeating his thoughts, Razaq men that were tottering kept moving closer until Lambz chewed an order under a spell of breath:
"Greene, check those guys out... "
Those words were hardly out before one of Razaq's men holding up his hand yelled...
"Allahu Arkba".
The death of that cry gave life to explosions of bombs strapped to the paraphernalia of Razaq's men.
You can't psych out the Afghanistans.
18:07:16:21:40
Note: Inspired by "12 Strong ", a ©2018 American movie.
Published 16th Jul 2019
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