PASSED TIME (No.12)

Doldrums

April 29th, 2010. Back from a disastrous road campaign, the down-spiraling, disordered Darger army took up a stark line of defense during a night of swirling consequences in the piercing, un-prevailing winds of Chavez Ravine.
With the molten-hot guns from Steel City circling like vultures, and casualties mounting, General Glory huddled the bandaged, battle-bloodied troops, and stratergized to steady the ship. He gave the command to No.22. The struggling, young bulwark was initially maligned by the meandering misalignment of his missile guidance counsel, and the errant, ill-timed ticks by the central anti-aircraft guns in the opening exchange cost the maturing marksman- and the down and out Dargers- a shot at victory.
    As the battle slew into the cold, exposed hours of the night, the lead rifler and his sniper team were able to keep the invaders at bay, but with little fanfare. For the 5th consecutive outing, the Darger guns were silenced. Without the presence of No.99 on the battlefield, the Darger's mobilized heavy artillery operations have been ground to a halt. L is for Last place.

Doubled Over

April 27th, 2010. After surrendering a second straight city in as many outings, the humbled Darger army spent all of Monday climbing out of the ashes in Warville, then grumbling north up the main supply road for 240 miles, chasing counter-revolutionary traffic into $tock Citi(sic)for yet another debacle. Once inside the corrupt megalopolis, however, the forces were met with a 24-hour cease-fire.
    So, today, with a little more than 2 extra days removed from combat, an exasperated General Glory ordered his attack hands to throw two successive, head-on investments at the well fortified, state-of-the-art, Citidel(sic). The first assault was led by No.18, and although his charge was struck hard at the outset, he fought a determined fight, but eventually had his horse shot out from him. His fresh-faced replacement was simply overwhelmed in his first call to duty and was forced to lay down his arms. Meanwhile, the Darger artillery units were again held in check. L is for "in like a lamb"
    In the 2nd wave of attack, the oddball dragoon, No.49, was sent in to breach the nouveau riche walls of the Citidel(sic). However, the defenses were wise to the battlefield tricks of the flat-footed musketeer, and they took complete control from the start. Finally, the Darger cannons were able to get back on track and staged a rally that brought the battle to a stalemate until the all too familiar meltdown of the never-ready reserves. Once again, the arms support failed to turn back the counter-attack, and the night ended in a sound defeat for the Darger forces. The down-trodden troops will have to find some way to find the will and firepower to get out of the Citi(sic)alive. L is for "out like a light"

Bombs Away!

April 13th, 2010. Echo Park Base. Home at last from 
a long road trip of fighting across the Eastern Divide, the Darger army had regrouped and were now basking in the sun, solace, and familiar spices of their concrete confines deep within the sold-out overgrowth of Chavez Ravine. They'd had a day's rest, and were fortifying positions for the celebratory arrival of the inaugural home battle. News of a Serpent attack from the Arizona desert is certain, so I merged into a languid convoy of Darger followers traveling southbound along the river hedged in by a dry bank of traffic making the stiff climb of Mt. Elysian- milling the opening rumors of an attack.

    Atop a mountain of parked cars, I could see the outlines of excitement below so I tagged along with a band of freedom fans who had just broken camp beneath the behemoth, sky-blue, "T" of Traffic Town's historic landmark, and we were half-way down the trail when the first wave of explosions ripped through the air.

    "They're shooting at us!" I yelled. Another barrage of thunder-booming detonations shook the hillside and like a wind-aided flag whipping me in the face, a hissing squadron of sonic bombers suddenly shot through the sky sending the battlefield below into a bombastic fit of rockets, glory, and smoke. A heavy, blue woman lost her footing and rolled headfirst past an old-hatted man traveling all the way from New Mexico. With an old Texas accent he screamed, "My God, they're going to kill us all!" The woman would have been lost for  good had not the brave Texas talker thrown his hat on top of her so as to levy her fall. "Hat's off!", I laughed, and made off onwards and downwards to the volcanic battle that had just erupted!

     By the time I had reached the creature comforts and close proximity of my bunker, the young Darger sharpshooter ,Number 22, had taken control of the Battery defenses and was holding the invading regiment of Rattlesnakes at a left arms length. Eventually, the concentrated infield fighting fell off and his aim quelled the mighty crowd that had gathered with restless affiliations of sameness.
     And then General Glory sent in the Bomb Squad. KA-KOOM!! Number 99 unleashed what was to be a cannonading overture of LA muscle and manpower. BOOM! WHAM! BLAM! Non-numerically , but respectfully in order of heroics, No.23, No.27, and No.16 all followed with manly displays of bang.

     To the thrill of everyone, the gravity of those Bazooka shots echoed long enough to ensure a decisive victory despite another sloppy humanitarian relief effort by the shell-shocked gang of Darger mid-range riflers. At the close of this glorious opening battle 56,000 satisfied, sun-shiny, day-trippers will collide right back into the waiting commute of the 9-5 crowd. The day was perfect. To the Letter "T"!  W is for Open Home.

Fish or Go Home!

April 11th,2010.  The LA Dargers were run out of the Nation's southern panhandle Sunday after a second straight day of allowing the grip of victory slip away and slap them in their face. On a typically unpredictable afternoon fighting the local weather and sea-life, the Darger Battery of Number 49, combined with a mis-matched hit squad of Reservists, pushed the action to every corner of the battlefield, before finally being overtaken by the rains and Fishermen in the ebbing tides of the 3 day engagement. Number 49, the young ,affluent lieutenant and  odd-baller, elevated his knack for furious hand-to-hand combat by striking down a dozen or so would be kill-or-be-killed killers with his antique, brass-knuckled mitts!
    The first week of the 2010 War was brutal. The horrifying battlefield replays etched in the eyes of those fighting men must offer a reminder of the challenges that lie in wait for the Dargers in the coming weeks, if not months, of this year's crusade. It's two-thousand, seven hundred and twenty-two miles of unseasonal open road for the battered, tattered, but homeward bound army. L is for Road Tripped.