The Battle of Radiant Ridge. The Snow Brigade Takes on the Heated Driveway Fortress

A thick cloud of white specs began falling from the grey sky. “Alright, you snowflakes!” the gruff sergeant bellowed. “Listen up! We’ve got a job to do and we’re gonna do it!” Sergeant Burr studied the troops as they drifted down in the cold breeze.

“Our mission is to harass those two-legged monstrosities down there and bring their travel plans to a halt. Got that? We are to secure the driveway and keep them confined to their house. Make all exit points dangerous and impassible. We will impede all manner of travel, whether it’s by foot or vehicle. Do you understand?”

“Sir, yes sir!” the group yelled in unison.

“Alright then, when you land on that driveway tighten up your ranks and hold your ground. I’ll be taking the high ground by the wintergreen pansies to supervise the operation. I’ll be there with you guys, fighting alongside you.”

 

“Um Sergeant Burr, sir?” one timid private stepped forward.

“What’s on your mind, son?”

“Uh, yes sir, I uh, I heard that some of these places are installing heated driveways that pretty much vaporize entire battalions of snowflakes like us. How do we know they don’t have any weapons of mass melting down there?”

“Because our intelligence reports didn’t say anything about radiant heat!” the sergeant yelled. “Look down there! That driveway and sidewalk look the same as all the others, right? Now, enough with those crazy thoughts.”

“Um, yes sir.”

“Alright! So stop worrying. We’re going to use the element of surprise and bury ‘em before they can yell ‘Grandma busted her hip’. Got that?”

“Yeh-yes sir,” the snowflake sheepishly resigned and slipped back into rank.

“Dude,” a soldier next to him nudged. “Ya just gotta think positive man. Like, picture in your mind that the driveway down there is totally chill, man. It’s just a frigid slab of cement waiting for us ice-cool dudes to drift on down and cover up. Positive thinking man; just use the power of positive thinking. Believe it will be ice cold and it will be ice cold.”

“Well okay, sure,” the wary private said with a raised eyebrow, while distancing himself from the soldier.

“The rest of you snowflakes,” Sergeant Burr continued, “stop worrying about the radiant heat bogeyman and focus on your assignments. The first wave is to cover the surface. Link up and provide a thin sheet of ice so the next waves can pile on top to pack you down and hide you. You’ll be the tip of the spear; the secret slick surface that will bring down any of those two-legged mammals who dare to step outside.”

“What about the four-legged ones?” a soldier asked.

“We don’t care about them. They don’t have as far to go when they drop. It’s those bipedal ones that are a lot more fun to watch when they go down,” the sergeant said with a devilish grin. “Now let’s go down there and have some fun.”

The group descended closer and closer to the ground. The brown lawns and leafless trees were beginning to be overcome by the white army. In fact, the entire landscape was sinking slowly under a blanket of snow, but the driveway remained defiant. It stood alone in the drowning neighborhood.

“Man, I don’t like the looks of this,” the timid private said to a fellow paratrooper.

“Yeah,” came the reply. “That doesn’t look right.”

“No talking in the ranks!” the sergeant howled. He raised his hand slowly and then threw it down to his side. “First wave, hit the ground! Go, go, go!”

The blanket of snowflakes fell onto the concrete, but shrieks and screams filled the air. The snowflakes were gone. They disappeared. One after another the snowflakes hit the pavement before letting out a yelp and trickling away. The snow was disarmed, turning into little droplets that drained down the driveway and into the gutter.

The young private was now nothing more than a small drop of water. He recognized the droplet next to him and gave him a shove. “Positive thinking, aye? Just think it will be ice cold and it will be ice cold, aye? Rrright. Positive thinking, my lily white icicle!”

“Yeah man. Like, total bummer,” came the sheepish reply.

But some of the first snowflakes to hit the driveway didn’t even make it to the water stage. Like the private said, the snowflakes were vaporized, where they drifted slowly back up to the sky.

“C’mon!” the stubborn sergeant hollered. “Waves two and three. Hit ‘em hard!”

But with each company of snowflakes the results were the same. The icy soldiers were nullified the second they hit the ground.

“Sarge!” a platoon leader yelled. “We can’t break through. It’s too hot down there. The driveway is fortified with radiant heat! We don’t stand a chance.”

The stubborn Sergeant only grew more desperate. “We . . . we gotta. Um,” he stammered and thought for a moment. Maybe it’s not a Warmzone heated driveway. Maybe we can overwhelm it.

“Everybody! he yelled. “We need a full frontal assault. We’ll overwhelm the driveway with sheer numbers!”

“But Sarge!”

“That’s an order,” the sergeant screamed. “Everyone to the driveway! It’s our only chance.” He called for reinforcements.

The sky grew white and thick sheets of snow descended. Snowflake after snowflake hit the ground, but no one could establish a foothold. It was impossible. Even when reinforcements that doubled the size of the assault force arrived, they could make no headway. Snow piled up on the ground next to the driveway, but the troops on the lawn could only watch in horror as their comrades fell to their doom.

“It’s a massacre,” one resigned.

Still the sergeant continued to bark his attack orders.

“That dude’s a lunatic,” a snowflake on the edge of the driveway remarked as he watched the sergeant scream his orders.

“He’s a cold-hearted dude,” a soldier observed.

“Yeah, got ice in his veins,” came a reply. 

“He’s got ice in his brain!” another injected, shaking his head. “There’s nothing you can do against a heated driveway. It’s hopeless!”

“For sure,” the soldiers agreed. “I reckon Sarge’s brain is melting. Poor guy has gone bananas.”

“Yeah, old ‘blood and guts’ is just ‘old drooling sludge,’.”

“Well, I’m just glad we landed here on the grass. Those heated driveways are murder on snow.”

The battle raged for over two hours, but when the final troops descended from the sky, the driveway and front sidewalk were completely dry. There was no trace of a battle. The army of snow successfully buried the surrounding yards, roads and roofs, but the pavement remained clear.

Sergeant Burr hugged his knees and rocked back and forth. His eyes stared blankly ahead as he repeated, “It’s a heated driveway. How could I know? It’s a heated driveway . . . ”

His soldiers tried to console him, but it was hopeless.

“C’mon Sarge,” the medics lifted him onto a stretcher. “It’s all over now.”