Jackson peeked his head over the edge of the low wall, scanning the tree line 50 meters away.
"You see anything, sir?"
"No... they must be hiding further in," Jackson replied before crouching back down and leaning his back up against the wall.
He and his men had been tasked with guarding an old farmhouse, which had been fortified and turned into a radio station. At first, they had been lucky, their position was a few miles away from the front and was relatively safe from U.A.R artillery fire. That was until the day before, when the word came in that the U.A.R had managed to break through a section of the line. Jackson and his men had been preoccupied all night, fighting off assaults and trying desperately to keep the radio station operational. They were low on ammo and men, but luckily, they only had to hold on a bit more.
Jackson checked his watch.
"It's 5:34, only 26 more minutes guys."
Jackson holstered his .45 caliber handgun before gesturing to the militiaman next to him for his canteen.
"Thanks," Jackson said, taking the canteen and unscrewing the top before taking a sip of the lukewarm water within, gagging at the putrid flavor. Jackson quickly screwed the top back on before passing it back over to the soldier. Jackson watched as a militiaman wearing a white armband exited the farmhouse with a bucket in his hands. The militiaman quickly crouched and ran over to the wall before sitting down next to Jackson.
"Wade, how's Jamal doing?" Jackson asked, looking over at the militiaman, whose hands were stained with blood.
"He'll be fine sir, it wasn't that serious, just a ricochet. I got him doped up... have you seen anything?"
Jackson shook his head. "Nothing..."
"Maybe we scared them off... why are they even still fighting? It'll be over in 20 minutes... maybe they don't know?"
"Or maybe they just really hate us..." Jackson replied before looking into the bucket which had a few spare stripper clips of ammunition and a couple of grenades.
"I took them off Jamal and the other wounded, I think you guys will have more use in them..." Wade explained before passing the bucket to another militiaman, who took out two clips before passing it down to the next man.
Jackson turned around, and peeked over the wall again, before quickly ducking as a bullet hit the stone wall.
"INCOMING!" A militiaman yelled.
Gunfire broke out from the tree line, bullets whizzing over the wall. Jackson quickly drew his handgun as he peeked over the wall once more to see what was happening. He could see movement in the tree line along with muzzle flashes, his men returning fire almost immediately. The gunfire was deafening, every shot causing a sharp pang in his ears, however, he ignored it and began shouting orders.
"HOLD YOUR FIRE UNLESS YOU HAVE A CLEAR SHOT! WE DON'T HAVE THE AMMO TO SPARE!" Jackson repeatedly yelled, running down the length of the wall.
Jackson stopped and peeked over the wall again, before crouching back down. Jackson took out his watch, checking the time.
"Only 15 more minutes..." He thought to himself, gritting his teeth as bullets whizzed by overhead. Jackson took a deep breath before running back down the line, making sure no one was wasting ammo.
"LESS THAN 15 MINUTES LEFT BOYS, JUST SIT TIGHT!" Jackson yelled repeatedly as he ran down the line once more.
Suddenly, the gunfire ceased, the noise replaced by a thunderous cry as dozens of U.A.R Soldiers began charging forward from the tree line.
YOU ARE READING
Black Flame
FanfictionAfter decades of isolation, a young human is forced into attending Cherryton Academy by his optimistic father who hopes to reopen diplomatic ties with the United Animal Republic. Meanwhile, the young man's Uncle attempts to establish his gang's pres...