"Watch the left flank!"
"Got three of 'em comin' at me!"
"Walkerson's down! MEDIC!"
My ears were assaulted by the sounds of battle as a bullet zinged by my ear, smacking into the car behind me. I looked down and saw blood seeping from my stomach. My cammies were soaked.
"C'mon, Walkerson, stay with me here. You're gonna be alright. The bullet didn't hit any major organs," Corporal Mill said, pushing my shirt out of the way and wrapping my stomach in gauze.
I pushed him away and grabbed my M4A1 and stood. My stomach flared up in pain, sending me to one knee. Grunting against the pain, I stood and fired three rounds into the nearest Taliban.
"Get air support out here!" Sergeant Mac Splinte cried, slapping a fresh clip into his weapon. "Walkerson, get to Ben, he needs help!"
"On it." I replied, barely hearing his voice over the din of gunfire.
Spinning in a circle, I spotted the aforementioned teammate crouched behind a pile of concrete. A rocket slammed into the street inches in front of the pile, showering Ben with debris. I slid into position next to him, firing half a clip into the general direction of the rocketman.
A sniper fired and clipped my shoulder, sending me to my back. Ben grinned at me and lobbed a frag over the concrete pile. He stood and immediately fired.
"GET THAT AIR SUPPORT!" Sergeant Mac screamed, stabbing a Taliban in the stomach and shoving him backwards.
"Sir, the radios are down. We're on our own," Jason replied, slipping a fresh clip into his M16A2.
I looked over to the Sarge, seeing the stress of the battle in his eyes. Nodding to him, I rolled around the side of the cover and brought down three insurgents with controlled bursts. Ben suddenly cried out, dropping to the ground, clutching his chest and thigh.
"BEN'S DOWN!" I shouted, hoping they would hear me through the COM, since the gunfire was too loud.
A bullet bounced in front of me, sending me scurrying back behind cover. Ben's leg was spurting blood, and I knew his artery was hit. Tears came to my eyes. Ben wasn't going to make it. Corporal Mill was busy patching up Sergeant Mac, so I dropped my rifle and picked up Ben, throwing him over my shoulder.
It was a risky move, and I knew it. But I also couldn't let Ben die there, blood spurting from his leg. Sergeant Mac looked over and pointed yelling something at me. I shook my head, not understanding. But his shouting and pointing got more empathetic.
Suddenly, a wave of heat flared up my back, a concusive blast accompanying it. I was sent forward, Ben coming off my back and bouncing painfully on the ground a few feet away. My head slammed into the street, making my vision blurry. I tried to stand, and felt bullets go flying over my shoulder, before somone hit me in the back of the head.
3 Hours Earlier.
"The western flank has been one of our worst zones for hit-and-run attacks recently. We lost two platoons to three I. and a news reporter to a sniper attack. But, the Pentagon doesn't want us to send in a lot of men," Commander James Keene said, pointing out a section of Baghdad on a map covered in green and red marker lines.
"Do we need that portion? Is it vital?" General Mark Sender asked.
"Yes. If we can kick out these attackers, then we have a straight route to one of their main weapon caches."
"And the Pentagon says that we can't send in a company?"
"No, sir. They don't want to risk too many men."
The General ran a hand through his hair and stared at the map. His men looked at him, waiting on his decision.
"Alright. Send in B Company's second platoon. Get them back before sundown though. And keep a few choppers on standby."
"Yes, sir!" a Private took off, notepad in hand.
I sat up, eyes blurring. Nearby, I could hear someone speaking in Arabic. I glanced over and saw two Taliban searching through Corporal Mill's things. His left arm was missing at the elbow.
Anger flared up inside me at that sight. I slowly stood, glancing around and picking up a rock from the ground. The two men payed no attention, laughing as they pulled a picture of Mill's dog out of his bag.
Slowly, I approached from behind them, rock raised. One of them turned, patting his friend on the back. When he spotted me, his mouth dropped open and he stopped.
I jumped forward, rock smashing into his nose. I reared my arm back and hit him again, catching him in the eye. He cried out, dropping his AK47 to the ground. His partner spun around, aiming his own gun.
Thinking quickly, I spun around the current Talilban I was attacking and pushed him forward, using him to block his friend's aim. I continued the spin and launched the rock, connecting with the man's groin.
He dropped to his knees, rifle clattering to the pavement. I pulled a 9mm from the first insurgent's back pocket. I aimed and fired two bullets into each man's skull. Looking down at the handle of the pistol, I noticed it was Sergeant Mac's.
A great sadness swelled up inside me, bringing tears to my eyes. For a long moment, I stood looking at the pistol, blinking back tears. The sounds of gunfire down the street brought me back to reailty.
I looked up at three Taliban sprinting at me, AK's spitting out bullets. I rolled to the side and flicked the safety of the pistol off. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I rolled around the side of the overturned cart.
"DIE MOTHERFUCKERS!" I screamed, squeezing the trigger.
One of the men dropped, tripping up the next Taliban. The last man slid to his knees and fired at me. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder, followed by another pain in my stomach and right thigh. Blood spurted onto the ground.
Feeling sick, I lifted the pistol and fired again, emptying the clip into his chest. Vaguely, I could see one of the bullets hit a grenade hanging from his shoulder. I smiled as my body fell backward. The edges of my vision started to go black, my muchles wouldn't respond to my commands to move.
The only thing running through my mind was the memory of my family back in the States. Finally, the light left my eyes as more Taliban rushed into the street.