Of Rice And Men (No longer being updated)

Chapter 2

A wall of flame and heat washed over our vehicles like a wave, singing my hair as I ducked into the troop compartment. Others weren’t so lucky and were toasted in the blast, blackened and crisped like toast. It was sickening to see my friends like that, twisted and mangled corpses, but I had a job to do and my very survival depended on it.

As all but two SAS members filed out of my Viking and into battle positions, I once again climbed into the gun turret and brought the massive barrel to bear on the guerrillas. The rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire echoed in my eardrums, ringing out loudly through the open valley and more Burmese dropped but they were slowly gaining momentum.

“I need ammo! Now!” I screamed down at the SAS in the front seats. As they fumbled round with one hand and fired off with the other, I glanced around at the destruction. Out of eight vehicles in the convoy, only four were left. The front and back two had been obliterated by the rocket propelled grenade, their fragments peppering our vehicles. I could see one of our men impaled to the floor by a large piece of land rover bumper, screaming out in agony as he writhed around like a worm. One thing that my experiences had taught me was that war was full of horror. Get over it and get on with your job so it doesn’t happen to you.

The black-clad Special Forces soldier handed me a ammo tin, brimming with massive rounds. I pulled out the previous tin, jammed this one into place in the holder and wrenched up the top cover of the feed tray. I cleared the area around me of spent casings and link from the ammo belts with one hand while wiping the link from the tray with the other. The ammo belt clipped in and ready to fire, I dusted away the grime from the bullets and slammed the cover down hard. Racking the chamber, the barrel once again lit up with tracer rounds. They zipped into the lush jungle vegetation, tearing the leaves and exposing the piles of dead guerrillas behind. We had taken out huge amounts but ammo was running low.

Whilst firing, I felt an urgent tug on my leg. I looked down to see one of the SAS shout up his orders.

“Corporal Llewelyn, get down here and turn this piece of scrap around to the right. Me and Carter are going for the diplomat. Be ready to get moving and I’ll get back behind the wheel as soon as we’re off. Got it?”

I nodded and slid down into the empty troop bay, the two others scrambling down the back ramp. I had never learnt how to drive one of these and the controls were heavy and cumbersome. Foot on the pedal and it slowly moved backwards as I turned the wheel and reversed into position. Pulling it forwards, just off the road and onto the grassy plain, I swivelled my head and waited, anxious to get out of this death trap.

How many of us had died for this guy? All of us were prepared to die for our country but for some Yankee ambassador in a suit and tie, that was a different story. Hell, most of the SAS are probably dead too. The nation’s finest fighting troops, wiped out by some AK wielding farmers and a few lucky rocket strikes. Whatever the Yank was up to in this place, it better have been a good reason for this kind of sacrifice.

Seven men came sprinting around the burn out husk of a Viking. The diplomat, his liasion officer, the two SAS and three Delta members. Heads down and covering the two VIPs, they suppressed the Burmese with a wall of lead, keeping the enemies heads down. As they neared the back of the Viking and I readied myself to hit the gas, one of the Delta members cried out in pain. He had taken an AK round through the neck and it was gushing blood like a fountain. They threw the VIPs in the troop bay and dragged the soldier inside before closing the hatch.