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APOJ 16-2F

Glitch Immersion

The Great Assault

As I sat at the Stogies 

Bar and Grill, I sipped my glass 

of bourbon reminiscing with 

myself about times passed. I 

have always particularly loved 

this location. The decrepit oak 

bar top lends itself perfectly to 

the stale smell of cigarettes and 

perfume, tranquility to a weary 

soul. I come here to slip away 

from reality, against the majority 

of guidance I’ve received from 

my psychologist. I didn’t come to 

Stogies for any company other 

than my own, even if his candor 

and haircut implied he was miliFORT LEAVENWORTH, KANSAS

T H E AR M Y PRES S

Staff Sgt. Wachtendorf, U.S. Army, UAS operator, nine years of 

military service, is currently attending Senior Leader Course for 15W 

Leader Training

tary himself. I kept my gaze on my bourbon. To my dismay he dismounted his bar stool and headed towards mine. 

“Sir, I don’t mean to intrude but,” he said, not caring that I didn’t look up as he sat down, “But I just noticed you sitting here and wanted to thank you for the service you provided our country, can I buy you a drink?” 

My apprehensive attitude faded almost instantly. I forgot I had worn my campaign ball cap today. Normally I only 

wear it when I’m going to visit with some of my prior service buddies, but today I looked in the mirror and noticed 

the baldness was spreading like a California wildfire. My wife always reminds me I’m still handsome, but I let 

embarrassment take the wheel this time. I told the young man I’d love a drink as long as he’d have one with me, he 

graciously agreed.

Sir, my dad told me some stories about the war. Your platoon is renowned for being the first military force 

to combat a never before seen enemy. How’d you do it?” I was surprised he knew who I was, but maybe some lucky 

reporter snapped a picture of me before I went into solitude. “Son in my adventures so far as an old man I have 

lived through what seems to be thirty lifetimes and seen more than most could fathom.” Bourbon always could get 

me talking. Kid wanted to know? He’d get more than he bargained for, but still wouldn’t have a clue what it was 

like to live it. On July 8th 2016 my life came to a screeching halt and then catapulted into a future of mass confusion and hysteria....”

Standing the in line at Carver’s Shoppette on post, I was playing on my smartphone, Boom Beach to be 

exact, when it started populating multiple headlines flashing from the Fox News App and BBC News App. 

“United States President Declares War on Russia” 

“All Non-Muslims in the U.S. Receive Death Sentence.”

I thought ha! One of my crackpot buddies had hacked my phone. When I began to look around Carver’s, 

everyone else was looking at their phones and tablets in disbelief. One lady, who resembled a not so funny Melissa

The Army Press created the Future Warfare Writing Program to generate ideas about possible complexities of future warfare, as 

presented in the Army Operating Concept. The views expressed belong to their authors, and do not necessarily represent the official 

view of The Army Press or any other government institutions or agencies.
McCarthy, began yelling, “see ev’one I told ya this president was gonna get blown up by that Putin guy, y’all better 

stock up on all your liquor the end of the world is going to start right here in ‘merica.” As crazy as she sounded the 

way my phone continued to display headlines too ludicrous to continue reading, I began to actually be a little more 

than unnerved. I bought my Red Bull and Copenhagen and headed back to the company to see if my phone was an 

isolated incident or if this was really happening. 

I tried to text my wife to see if she had received anything of similar nature, but to no avail my phone was 

not letting me send texts and the call function was disabled; even though I my connection had full bars? What in 

the samhell was going on? I arrived to the company to find everyone standing in formation. The 1SG and Commander were talking feverishly to one another. I ran to 5th Platoon and took my spot in the ranks. Immediately all 

of the Soldiers in my section began to bombard me with questions of what was going on and when we were deploying to Russia. I told them I was unsure of what was going on but to lock it in formation while we await guidance from the Commander. 1SG called everyone to attention and passed the formation to the Commander. CPT 

Salamander had definitely been one of the best commanders I had served with. He knew one of the best tools in his 

“kit” were his NCO’s.

“Troops today is a monumental day, as it appears we are faced with an old enemy and new mission. The 

1SG and I have not received word from higher echelons of where, when, and if we will be deploying. At this time 

you will go to your quarters and prepare a 72 hour bag. You will return with that bag at 1200 hours and we will be 

on standby here at Company HQ until the FRAGO has been published. 1SG post.” 1SG turned to the formation 

and told us to make haste and to try and make what arrangement’s we could to ensure our family was safe before 

returning at 1200. 

I went home to find my wife slumped on the couch, staring at the television. I heard the emergency television prompt say, “stay in your homes this is an emergency broadcast.” She looked up at me with her deep blue eyes 

and asked why I was home and if this was real. I told her my orders and she punched me right in the gut. “Why did 

you do that?” I coughed. “Because the girls and I need you the Army has plenty of other Soldiers why it is always 

you,” she cried. I stood looking her in the eyes before I reached over and put my arms around her. Having only 

returned from my last deployment 90 days ago, I knew how she was hurting to watch me abruptly disappear from 

being husband and father yet again. That’s when I heard the sound that I’m sure none of us ever want to hear while 

we anywhere near our loved ones, the Air Raid Siren.

I ran outside to be confronted with one of the scariest things I had ever seen..., until later that day. A 

formation of at least 100 sixteen foot quadcopters, were moving in synchronized concert. These airframes were 

unmanned loaded with cameras, some type antenna with a globe, and what appeared to be a 30mm mini-gun. I 

pivoted around and dragged my wife and kids back inside. I told them to pack their bags and that they were coming with me to HQ to ensure that these UAV’s were friendly not enemy. Everyone packed and my family and I 

cautiously headed to the company area.

Everyone else in the company appeared to have the same idea of bringing family. 1SG came to the day 

room carrying his M9 pistol holstered and M4 Carbine slung. I felt like I had to be deeply immersed in a vivid 

nightmare. And if not that, then my 1SG, emulating Rambo was a joke. 

He was not joking. “Troops draw your weapons I don’t know who those big ass remote control toys belong to but 

if it’s not us then we need to be ready to shoot them down.” I had my weapon and my family, and that should have 

been enough to feel a little bit of security, but I had to accept 100 rounds that we had on hand in the Arms room 

was going to our Supply Sergeant and his driver so they could drive to the ammo yard and draw more. I didn’t 

know whether to feel confident or crushed, watching that ammo drive away from my family and the families of my 

company. 

From our company area the Airfield was only about a half a mile away and I could hear the “birds” begin to 

start their engines. The hair stood up on the back of my neck when I had the crackling of energy that was coming 

from the “globes” massed on top of the quadcopters. Everyone one of those UAVs begin making the same sound

The Army Press

Future Warfare Writing Program

Wachtendorf The Great Assault

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and then-VA-BOOM! 

With the bright emission of blue light and a rush of wind the engines on all the helicopters from our base 

died. Having always been a big fan of Call of Duty I was 99.9% sure that some new form of EMP had just killed the 

chance of us having any of our Rotary Winged Calvary to come to our rescue. I ordered everyone back inside until 

our ammo arrived. 

Throughout the following 30 minutes I huddled together with the rest of company leadership, scratching 

our heads to try to stage a plan on how we exactly were going to combat the drones that were hovering over our 

heads. How in the world did they even make it into the Continental U.S.? The only semi-conclusion I could deduce was that they were delivered in small unmanned submersibles able to the surface and release the quadcopters 

near their destination. We didn’t want to just take aim from the company, the risk to our families was to high. We 

settled on leaving a ten Soldier detail to guard and defend the families in the company area. 2nd platoon and 3rd 

platoon would begin movement in an easterly direction and take cover and dig in good fortified fighting position’s 

to the East of the Shoppette. 4th and 5th Platoon to flank westward from the company and Shoppette to do the 

exact same thing once the other platoon sergeants and I had our troops in position we would open fire. After the 

UAVs were shot down we would be able to establish communication with our echelons of command. 

We stood there, backwards planning the upcoming operations advantages and disadvantages to make sure 

we’d thought of every contingency. The door to company flies open, instinctively weapons with no ammo we at the 

ready all around the room. A bloody faced SPC Hashim, the Supply Sergeants driver, out of breathe and scared 

stumbled into the room, “says SGT Adams is gone the mirrors killed him.” 

With bewilderment on all of our faces I asked SPC Hashim to take a seat at the table. “SPC Hashim could you 

please recall with as many details as you can how the sam hell mirrors killed SGT Adams and did you retrieve the 

ammo.”

Hashim told us that he and SGT Adams had a smooth ride to the ammo supply point, but the line outside 

the gate was backed up about ten or so trucks deep. We inched forward a little at a time. We kept inching forward 

for about thirty minutes until SGT Adams became impatient and wanted to walk up to the gate and see what was 

going on. As soon as SGT Adams hopped out of the Humvee he looked at me and said I needed to go back to drivers training because even waiting in line he couldn’t stay on the road. I didn’t have the faintest idea what he was 

talking about, but I didn’t have time to reply before SGT Adams walked forward and disappeared momentarily as 

if he had just walked through a trans-dimensional wall. At that, a couple of men burst out laughing in disbelief. I 

shot them a look before motioning Hashim to continue. 

“A minute later he came back into my view looking scared. He kept looking around and went to look under 

the truck for whatever was creating the illusion. He said it had to be close, since the radius of the illusion was so 

small. He found about six silver dollar ized drones with a small rotary wing feature had clasped themselves to our 

vehicle. 

SPC Hashim eyes began to water, and he said, “SGT Adams hopped back in the vehicle and said that he 

believed the drones were leading the two of them to drive right off the small cliff just ten feet in front of us as there 

were three Humvees at the bottom when he walked through the projection..” 

To be continued...

Photo Credit: composite of Call of Duty Black Ops 2 Backgrounds by Call of Duty Black Ops 2 Backgrounds by fastcocreate.com and M1A2 

Abrams Muzzle Blast - U.S. Army photo by 1st Lt. Austin McGuin and Resupply by UH-60 Black Hawk by Sgt. Juan F. Jimenez, 1BCT, 82nd ABN DIV 

PAO

The Army Press

Future Warfare Writing Program

Wachtendorf The Great Assaultt

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