The skies were filled with low hanging clouds. That was good, overall. There were some who didn’t like to jump when they couldn’t see the ground but any cover was better than none, especially with where they were jumping.

“We’re getting close,” a voice spoke over the radio. Everyone had their own headset so they’d be able to maintain communication throughout the operation.

As one, they stood and lined up as the door to the airplane was opened. Cold air blasted through the cabin but it was nothing unusual for the paratroopers. They’d done this dozens of times and they knew what to expect. At the signal, they began to rush out the plane, dropping through the cloud and towards the ground.

“This’ll be just like last time,” the voice said over the radio. “Flood their streets, sow chaos, and take the city.”

All too soon, the cloud peeled away, revealing the city below, and that was when everything went wrong. As soon as the paratroopers were visible, gunfire erupted upwards to meet them. Those below ignored the obvious problem of firing up into the air as they shot down the paratroopers one after another. There were dozens of shooters on the ground at first, then hundreds. Some paratroopers never got to deploy their chutes, others hung limp in their harness’ as they drifted downward. Some avoided being hit directly but their chutes were torn to pieces by the gun fire and they fell, screaming and cursing.

The radio was filled with shouting. It was chaos, but not the kind they’d intended to create. Some voices called for help, others shouted accusations, a few simply prayed. It was a massacre. A dozen planes had dropped their paratroopers before it became obvious this was a trap. The lucky few who hadn’t dropped yet were already flying away, calling for backup.

On the ground, the few who’d made it there alive, the situation was not much better. Squads roamed the streets hunting down anyone they found. Spotters from above guided them to where any survivors may have landed and they were terribly efficient at their bloody work. This wasn’t supposed to be a defended city. It was supposed to be predominantly civilians. Either the intel was wrong or someone had leaked the information and allowed the enemy time to prepare. Whatever the truth of the situation was, it was too late now.

“We need an extraction!” someone shouted over the radio. “I have a group of six, headed east out of the city in a–

The explosion of an RPG sounded as the voice cut off.

“Headed north,” another voice panted over the radio as they ran. “Under pursuit. Need air support.”

If a response came, it was lost in the noise of several other soldiers speaking at once over the radio and the original speaker never gave another update on his situation. The crack of gun fire, which had been an almost constant staccato ever since the first paratrooper passed below the clouds, was beginning to slow. It was both a relief and a terrible realization to the few who were left.

Another explosion sounded, this time on the west side of the city. A plume of smoke began to rise up shortly afterward marking a fire that had started.

The radio was less cluttered with voices now. There were a few who still called for help, one that was only sobs, and another that only swore over and over again as they sought to blame anyone and everyone for this catastrophe. It didn’t matter. No one was responding and no rescue would come. They knew it. It was too late for any of them. They were dead men walking. The enemy had been too prepared and there was nothing to be done now than to notify their families.

It was probably the worst loss of life in a single action in decades. Those in charge were not looking forward to the investigations that were now looming over them. This was the sort of thing that ended careers. A few felt guilty for worrying about such things at a time like this but most of them were already doing damage control on their own situations. It was the only thing they could really do and they needed something they could exert some control over to get their minds off of those they’d just sent to die.

In the handful of planes that hadn’t dropped their paratroopers, soldiers were silent. They knew how close they’d come to dying and only luck had preserved them. Their radios had been switched off so they wouldn’t have to listen to their comrades die but that was almost worse, like they were turning their backs on them. They’d already left them to die, the least they could have done was talk to them. Though what would they say? Would it really have helped? Would they have wanted to hear from them if their roles had been reversed?

The answer was no. It wouldn’t have helped, and in some cases it likely would have made things worse. They, the survivors, were better off in this silence with their guilt than they would have been listening to dying men. It was a harsh reality but that was how it was. Those who lived would need to be able to carry on for the next mission and having their heads filled with those voices wouldn’t do. They needed to focus and people would forget silence. It was so much harder to forget screams.