Land Of Fire By Chris Ryan Essay

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Land of Fire by Chris RyanThe alarm sent a shiver through the British fleet in San Carlos water. I went below deck to locate a missing crate for the squadron. A fist smashed into my face, but my regiment training soon had my assailant under control. I turned to face him. Just as I had clocked that the Argentine spy was in fact a woman, all hell broke loose as a bomb hit us.Back on dry land we received our briefing from Andy, my brother and superior officer. We were to be choppered to the Argentine mainland to destroy their airfield. The first chopper crashed into the South Atlantic, but I had been trained to survive ice-cold waters.On board another chopper, the butt of my L42 sniper rifle that had been converted to 7.62 calibre felt as reassuringly clunky as my prose.”We’re blown,” yelled Andy. “Make for the Chilean border.” We tabbed 50 miles with full bergens in 20 minutes.”This way,” whispered Seb, our mainland contact. We were two miles across the border when heavy gunfire raked our squad.Andy fell dead, but he took at least 5,671 Argies with him.Twenty years later I was back in the Falklands on a training mission. “Change of plan,” said the Rupert. “There’s been a coup. The military are up to something.”"You again?” I said to Seb, who briefed us on the mainland. We tabbed 321 miles to the airbase. I slid past the sentries to the top of the hangar.”Fuck,” I whispered. “They’re planning to reinvade the Falklands.”My eyes spotted a woman. It was the same person I had found on the Northland. “What are you doing here?”"I am Concha and I hate the new junta almost as much as I hate you.”Shots rang out. We killed 200,000 Argies and tabbed out to our RV. More than 10 million Argies surrounded us. We were all taken prisoner and Concha and I were handcuffed together.

I forced the jeep off the road. Still tied together, we swam an icy river, blew up the aircraft and rescued my men. “I hate you,” she sneered. I planted my mouth on hers and she forced her pubis up at me.”We’re nearly at the border,” said Seb. “That’s far enough, you traitor,” I yelled. I had no regrets when the bullets cut him in half.”The junta has fallen,” smiled Concha. “Let’s make love.”The digested read _ digested: SAS man goes back to Argentina and meets all the same people he met 20 years previously. Except this time he kills some of them.