Buried deep

Chapter 3

A horrid banshee scream, as another 120mm mortar round zeroes in on us. Men scamper like mice looking for shelter, hoping it will be safe. Bullets wizz and ping around us, ricocheting off walls, seeking soft warm blooded hosts. Shells tear into the earth, sending earth and other debris heavenwards in mocking shows of supplication. Men scream in pain and fear, as guns bark response.

All I can do is watch. Wait. Silently I lay here in this cacophony of chaos, sighting down my rifle, waiting for that one mouse to poke his head out of his hole. Breathing steadily with the maelstrom raging around me takes a lot of effort. The raining shells with their eventual explosions, jaunt my nerves, making me wish I could flee. I know deep down were I to do that, I would take a bullet to the back.

My eyes water and burn from the gun powder floating on the air, I dare blink only when required, I might miss my prey. Today I have hit twelve men, ten definite kills. I am not proud of this, but it is ten men less who will try to kill us.

A man pops his head up cautiously in the distance, I estimate about two hundred meters away, easy kill. I wait, letting him get comfortable. He will come out his hole, maybe he will bring some friends with, Slash will help take care of them. A shell explodes near him, sending him to ground once more. I know he is there, I can wait.

A few minutes pass before he emerges once more onto the scene. I relax, getting him into my cross hairs. The first is always mine, the second Slash's and a third will always be Rogers, that is how we worked it out. Five seconds after the third appears we end their lives. Then if there are more it is free for all. Today there are only two that come out.

Quitely I  count to five as I measure my breathing, slowing everything down. Gently like a mothers first touch on her new born baby, I press the trigger. Simultaneously to within a hundredth of a second our guns roar, spitting lead at our two targets. My victim stops in his tracks, looks down at his chest, drops his AK47, as his hand reaches slowly to his chest. He places his hand on the wound as blood begins to soak his uniform. In horror he looks at his hand stained with his life blood. I look, as he looks in my general direction, and read the shock on his face, as he slowly drops to the ground in a heap, never to move again. Not once did he scream.

The second assailant, was less lucky, he never knew he was dead, until he was dead. It was to late for him. His head rocked back from the impact, sending his helmet flying backwards to bounce three times before coming to a stop. He toppled backwards and was on the ground before his helmet stopped bouncing. Slash loved his headshots, blame it on Unreal Tournament.

In a heart beat we were cocked and ready to fire again...and that is when all hell broke out.

We were seven men stationed in this part of town, one being a medic, of no use for killing,  but sure as hell a godsend when we needed him. We were being slowly pulled back as the town had lost its strategic importance. The enemy wanted it and they could have it. The engineers had turned it into one big booby trap. No one knew how bad they wanted this town, till we started pulling out.

If I had known, killing those two men would have unleashed a hornets nest on us, I would have slunk off with the rest of the lads. Hindsight is a wonderful thing! About a hundred screaming fanatics reared up like a wave and came rushing at us, screaming and firing haphazardly, they were not sure where we were. I felled three more before being forced to resort to my R4. We sowed death amongst them that day, yet they kept coming.

At first, most of the assailants did not know our positions, however with us shooting at them they started zeroing in on us. More and more bullets sped our way, each seeking to embed within our warm flesh, to burow in and make a nest. More and more we found ourselves ducking for cover as they approached. Even though they were ill trained, numbers were on their side and eventually luck would pay out a hit for them.

A scream echoed from behind me, instinct kicked in and I shouted, "Medic, man down, get over here!"

Normally he reacts immediately to a call, best damn medic we ever worked with. Today he never shouted back, just silence. In the heat of the moment, I thought he was just under pressure like the rest of us and put it from my mind. Only to be rudely awakened.

Chaplain, not his real name, answered my call. He was the resident satanist, when in war you do not give a shit who they worship, as long as they have your back. Which he always did.

"It is the medic who's down!" He screamed from my left, Slash cursed from my right. The shit was leaking from the bag and would soon cover us. I looked at where Roger was and in bursts of three from his assualt rifle, was culling a few unwanted visitors to our little encampment. It was as if he could feel my eyes on him for those few seconds and he glanced at me.

"Get over to Grant! You are now the medic!" I shouted, returning to my task of eradicating the enemy. If we could save our medic, I would feel better, if I got hit, I wanted him to work on me, not one of the others, all respect to Roger but he was a bit of a butcher and just learnt as he went with our current medic. He was better than nothing at this moment.

"I am not a bloody medic!" He screamed back continuing to lay down fire. Nonetheless he made his way to where our medic lay. For all his bluster Roger was and will always be a person who will help someone else. I thank my stars for that everyday and so do a lot of other people.

I listened to his curses as he zigged, zagged and dove his way to the prone medic, all the while racking up the hits. On the other side we could see and hear the wounded, as some of the enemy soldiers tried to drag their comrades to safety. I am proud to admit we did not shoot those men or the wounded they carried away. I cannot say the same for all of them or some of my fellow soldiers.

"Oh, shit!" Cursed Roger, "Buggers, guts is all out!"

"Well then stuff it back and stitch him up!" I shout back, a little irritated, I had just missed my mark and his return fire had come a little to close for comfort, sending plumes of brick dust into the air in front of me.

"No use, he is more dead than a clubbed baby seal!" God, you just had to love how he put some things into perspective and reminded us of the causes he supported or believed in. Racing through my mind like the bullets around us was our options. We were going to pull out eventually anyway, so I made a snap decision. I gave the order to withdraw.

I watched Slash, dispassionately arm the last of the booby traps. We started our withdrawel, under heavy enemy fire, with precision, as our months of training had taught us. None of us liked to retreat, but we had known it was coming anyway. We all knew the new recruits would be coming soon and we would just retake everything, till we reached a stalemate again.

A roar of celebration reached our ears, as the enemy took our positions. I hated the feeling of loosing. A wry smile crossed my tired face as the first of the booby traps was triggered, the screams wafted back tantalisingly upon the wind. Soon we would be safe.

Roger quitely came up to me and proffered his hand to me. I reached out in silence and accepted his gift. Slowly he let the dog tags fall into my open palm. I could feel everyones eyes upon me as I closed my hand upon the cold metal.

As one we turned, snapped to attention and saluted in the direction of our fallen brother. Our final honour to him. His body would not be going home to rest in a beautiful coffin, where his family could mourn him. Only this ice cold impersonal dog tag would make it home.

I offered up a prayer to God that they buried his body. Sadly we left, with our memories and pains, knowing tomorrow would bring more of the same. War is a cruel master, making men of boys by baptising them in others blood.

I hate war, but what do you do when they put a gun in your hand and send you off to kill or be killed? You kill to survive. Maybe a little later I can continue writing my story, first we need to get moving, I have to survive this day.