Text by Platon Mamatov.
Yet another Russo-Ukrainian war yarn...
[ColonelCassad] On January 9, a group of our infantry fell into a deadly trap.
This is not a loud headline to attract attention, not a poetic exaggeration, but a factual situation.
First, an enemy infantry fighting vehicle drove the group into a small basement with dense fire from an automatic cannon.
Immediately after that, enemy stormtroopers rushed into the building, took control of the exit from the basement and began throwing grenades down.
In total, 17 regular grenades, one chemical and one incendiary flew into a room the size of your bathroom.
Each of the men defending the basement was shell-shocked and poisoned with chemicals several times. Nevertheless, the fighters fought back for several hours.
It is clear that they would inevitably be eaten. With grenades, explosives, thermobars or gas. And there was one magazine of ammunition left for each person. The "Hornet" crew of the "Irishmen" squad and our colleagues from the unit-that-must-not-be-named were busy rescuing the infantry from the mousetrap.
. The armored vehicles were destroyed.
. The drones burned out the enemy assault forces that had straddled the entrance to the basement. We did it carefully, so as not to collapse the building on our guys' heads.
. The fighters climbed out of the basement and got under a machine gun. There was a smart hohol sitting there, he almost tore them to pieces.
. The guys went back down. They called for help on the radio.
We killed the machine gunner and cleared out the infantry around. We tore the fire bag in several places.
As darkness fell, the group jumped out of the church and retreated in battle. We directed them with a drone with the backlight on.
. The group commander received a bunch of shrapnel wounds. Another fighter was seriously injured by the arrival of a Ukrainian kamikaze. He told his comrades to retreat without him and was left bleeding.
The group reached their own.
The drone wounded man died.
***
Nothing special, right? Now let's add a plot twist.
I once fought with a stormtrooper whose call sign was "Grandfather". This peculiar and very worthy gentleman and I went through a lot together. Then our paths diverged.
Some time ago, Grandfather signed a contract again.
He was the one who commanded the group defending the basement.
I only found out about this yesterday.
(c) Platon Mamatov
Video: ("Irish Strike Force")
Story: diomeddog (in the photo is Grandfather. This is what Grandfather looked like when we fought together)