Blind Eyes, Black Hearts - A GWOT Story (On Hold)

Chapter 4, Part 2 - Rangers Lead the Way

DAGGER TWO

After knowing that his right flank had been cleared, Salvade realized that any attempt to reply the fire from the machinegun without ANY assisting manuever orders from Captain Killbride would simply be a waste of ammunition. Salvade could see from his ACOG that there are more than 10 Taliban stacking up behind the arrangement of dunes and sandy dirt they were taking fire from. It was too high a risk to let LaHoye flank them without close fire support from the rest of Dagger 2, who were pretty much pinned down themselves.

Rick put his back onto cover, and looked at his men.

Most of them were new, and when he first came back here he knew little of the new kids who came in to replace the good thirty who acted as QRF during the WP attacks near Jalalabad. He missed most of his friends, and his old platoon leader Lieutenant Jackson, who was undoubtedly a good leader and a man loved by his men. There were a few whom he recognized before being a platoon leader; among them were SGT LaHoye, CPL Stark, and SSG Henderson, who was right next of him. He looked at these men and they reminded him of his time as an enlisted. These young men were chosen from a large pool of candidates, and that meant that they were the best of the best the new recruits of the army had to offer.

The RPK was pinning them down to the ground; the large and powerful bullets were tearing the small bump of dirt and mud apart. If he let Dagger 21 retreat to switch for more viable cover, which was either to Dagger 22 or LaHoye’s team, Dagger 22 and Dagger 23 would be the ones who would be the ones taking the damage. If he left this position the enemy could come and take it from him, and therefore isolating both Dagger 21, and dividing the platoon as a whole, which would cause Dagger 22 and 23’s right flank to be empty, therefore making Dagger 21 fail its task.

Rick knew that he had to move, but he did not how other than forward with the humvees or retreat. Rangers were supposed to be aggressive in attack and maneuver, dictating and dominating the enemy in every move, the pinnacle of the US Army War Machine, not to be pinned down and frozen in movement after encountering a group of gunmen and two snipers who were literally dictating the battle.

One of his men, a private, lifted his head a bit too high to open fire on the Taliban machinegun nest, and suddenly the echoing sound of a sniper rifle from the faraway tree line could be heard. It was like an eagle releasing its supreme and imperative voice; and the beak went through flesh as the bullet went clean through the unaware private. The shot flew fast and true onto the private’s torso and all of a sudden, he was down.

And bleeding heavily.

Specialist Heck Gunderson from Arizona, the platoon’s medic, scrambled to take care of the private but the private was already giving out too much blood. Blood was coming out of his mouth and the bullet seemed to penetrate right through the heart. Doc tried to find an exit wound but there was too much blood. “I need some help here!” He shouted to his mates, in which one ranger dropped his position and came to help him.

“You’re gonna be okay, man, ain’t nothing gonna happen to you. You’ll fucking live!” Gunderson was putting sulfur on the man’s wound, after taking off his body armor off his chest. He and the other ranger attempted to pressure the wound as much as possible, but their efforts were in vain. The private’s eyes were already staring straight to the sky, and his face was pale. Gunderson checked his pulse and he was cold. He was dead as soon as the round entered his body

Rick turned his head to the medic, and Gunderson, with a sorry stare, said. “He’s dead.”

Rick swore. That PFC was the first man to die under his tenure as a platoon leader, and he knew, if Captain Killbride won’t move, he’d be losing more men from that goddamned sniper. Several men from Daggers 22 and 23 had been wounded by that sniper alone.