7 Dead men

The intense wait

Roaring winds whooshes past my face. I watched as planes move across the tarmac prepping to take off or finally taking off. My company stayed near our rucks, far away from the whirling propellers. Some laid behind them and slept on there bags while some sit on them. I went to the USO to utilize the Wi-Fi so I can get a hold of my girlfriend. I knew she must've been worried sick about me. I put the phone to my ear, hearing it ringing I thought to myself..."What do I say to her?..." I puzzled as I hesitantly find the words to say but I couldn't. I was so scared. The phone finally stopped ringing and now endless questions consumed my hearing. "Where are you? Are you ok? Did you hear about what's happening? Oh my god, are they gonna send you in?" Constant clamoring of words echoes in my words. Some I couldn't recognize until... "Come on, let's go!!" I turned around and seeing soldiers rushing out of the building. I had seconds to speak. I better say my piece now. "Um...Hannah...?" I softly spoke. Silence appeared on her end as she waits for my words. "I know you are scared...and so am I. But I  gotta go. I'm being deployed and...I can't talk right now...please...don't forget about me..." I waited for response as I hear  a stray voice telling to get into formation. I didn't move until I heard her say something. I needed to hear something otherwise I would have lost my mind. I need some motivation. Another second pass by, I heard something I knew I'll never forget. "Ok...you better get your ass back here...to me...I swear I'll kick your ass so bad you'll be Michael Jackson. Heh..." she responded with a soft broken voice. I shed a tear as I felt lip quiver. Nodded my head in agreement and replied with "I love you." And I hung up. I put my phone in my pocket and rush out to the tarmac. I entered the formation, dodging rounds being thrown over my head. I saw my ACH filled with rounds. I picked it up and took off my speed loader from the band around it. I couldn't help up to stare at my name, last 4 of my social, blood type written on it. "Winston, BW2629 read on the left." "0 pos" read on the right. I loaded my next 30 round magazine. When you have practice loading your weapon, you tend to get a little faster every time. I was down to my last to mags until my team leader gave me four more clips of 5.56 loose that was in a brown cardboard box. I grabbed them and wondered what can I do with these I until I remembered about my spare mag. Though the average box carries 20 rounds on a clip that has 10 rounds each on them, I could create another 30 round magazine and I'll just have 10 more rounds to spare. I put the 10 rounds in my combat top shoulder pocket and put my mags back in my kit. 7 30 round magazines and 1 mag extra in my battle belt dump pouch. "That's about 240 rounds." I thought. I also knew that I hated carrying extra shit. I always felt like a mule. Extra batteries, medical equipment, now extra rounds. "Great." I sarcastic said to myself as I put my gear on. I clip my battle belt onto my waist, then put on my plate carrier then my ACH helmet. I think the only thing I had going for me was the fact that I was small. Small, waist, small body armor, my vest. I moved quicker than most. But was deemed weak so I had carry a lot more. "Helps build character." They said. I say "Bullshit. Just want me to be slower so you can pass me." I knew it wasn't true...but the fact of fear in me and the fact I could die...it's life changing. And I'm staring at the plane that's going to take me to my potential death....Hooah.