Occult Tactics in the Afghanistan War

by Private Johnathan C. Ricardo

Today was a rough day, the sun beat down us causing our flesh to burn. One guy in our platoon passed out from heat exhaustion and had to be rushed to back to the base to get treatment. We didn't have any luck finding any insurgents today, they must be regrouping so our commander called us back and wait until tomorrow night to go searching for them.

That night was odd indeed, the moon shone it's bluish light down in the cool night sand, various animals out hunting for food in the moonlight. We made our way to a local cemetery and to our surprize we found an old man sitting on a tomb stone. He addressed us in Arabic but for some reason our electronic translators weren't working. A big grin came across the old mans face as he pointed to the ground.

The earth infront of the old man sitting on the tombstone begain to bulge and shift, a moldy shriveled hand burst out of the dry ground and clawed around, the old man laughed and said something else in Arabic then begain to chant. Another hand burst out and felt around the surface ground then the creature pulled itself up out of the ground and begain to moan.

The rotten corpse got up on it's feet and limped towards my buddy and I, one of it's eyes were missing and the other hung out of it's socket, the stench from the creature was horrible.

I pointed my M16 at this ungodly creature and riddled it with bullets, it fell to the ground and tried to get back up, but my buddy ran over and stomped it's head to dust, this zombie lay motionless, dead again?

The old man slipped off the headstone and pulled out a book from under his robes and opened it and begain to read from it. The ground slightly trembled at his words and arms sprouted out of the dirt, one grabbed my leg but I kicked it free and cruched the grotesque hand under my boot.

The zombies rose out from the ground and had us surrounded we opened fire sending their dried out flesh flying, they fell to pieces, but they reassembled and stood back up, they were closing in on us, we were nearly out of ammo, bullets broke their bones and caused them to fall again.

DAMMIT! Out of ammo, I blew through the zombies that were getting back up, the others, had been grabbed and pushed to the ground by these horride demonic beings. Shouts of death and a few last rounds of fire went off, every one in my platoon was dead except for me, I had made it out alive. I heard the old man call out to me in Arabic, but I ran as fast as I could until I got back to the base.

Everyone there was dead, gutted, and some of their limbs missing, the old man was standing in my quarters, he laughed and said in English, "Go, tell others about what you saw. Allah is on our side, the dead shall rise and continue to fight American forces. The dead's souls demand victory for the Afghani people!"