Like... Last July

Jeff shouted gratuitously, "Tom, concentrate on the left, I'll eyeball the right!" He glanced at the radio and checked the volume. He hoped to hear the LT's voice telling them to U-ey, but it stayed silent. He expected Tom to open up on some target at any moment. Jeff readied himself to lean out the window and start firing. He and Greg watched the lieutenant's Humvee disappear through the thick black curtain. Their guts tightened waiting for the sound of an explosion. Greg slowed the vehicle slightly as he hit the dark veil. Acrid smoke billowed into the interior of the Humvee as it bounced and lurched over the flaming tires and through the screen. They all exhaled a breath of relief when they weren't hit by anything and even felt very lucky for a brief moment until they saw the second line of burning tires eighty meters ahead.

Greg shouted, "Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" Again they all tensed as the leading Humvee disappeared once again behind billowing black smoke. Just before Greg drove through it, a gust of wind came up and blew a brief opening in the curtain. "Ohhhh, shit," Greg groaned. He and Jeff stared at the overturned bus blocking the next intersection and the broken down cars lining both sides of the street. Their vehicle began bouncing over the burning tires.

The radio squawked garbled words. Without thinking, Jeff felt his kevlar vest for the magazines he already knew were there and then pressed his fingertips where his shirt pocket was. He turned around to look out the open rear window. He shouted, "Billy's through too! I can't see the eight!" He bounced in his seat again and his helmet tilted down. He batted it up. "I see the eight!"

He looked forward. The lieutenant's Humvee was frantically trying to make a three point turn, its tires spinning clouds of dust into the air. His body leaned hard against the door as Greg made a sharp skidding turn to attempt the same maneuver. He heard Tom start firing the fifty in long bursts. Jeff looked around for targets. He hoped Tom was laying down cover fire with no targets. Then the fifty on the LT's vehicle started firing too. "Where the fuck are they?!" Jeff heard small arms rounds hitting the vehicle. He continued searching for targets as Greg put it in reverse and looked back out the rear.

BOOM-BOOM!... BOOM! Three nearly simultaneous explosions ripped through the air. The shock waves made the Humvee bounce twice.

"FUCK!" shouted Greg.

Jeff looked out the left side window. "It's the eight!" The large truck was engulfed in orange flames. Jeff knew that in addition to the two in the cab, there had been eight more marines in the bed, mechanics trying to get to their unit farther up the advance. One had been a girl. He saw the fifty on Billy's Humvee firing too. Billy braked to a stop probably to let the LT and Greg make their three point turns. He couldn't back up because of the burning eight ton. Jeff watched the RPG go straight through Billy's windshield.

WHUMP!

Billy's Humvee seemed to expand for an instant before it jumped five feet into the air. The roof and sides of the vehicle instantly disintegrated becoming shards of shrapnel. Jeff knew all the men inside were at best nothing more than charred, shredded meat now. He scrambled over the seat. He readied another belt for Tom. "Ammo ready!" Jeff again wished they weren't short a man.

Greg thought the LT was waiting for him to finish his three point turn. He hurried to straighten out the vehicle but then the other Humvee lurched forward scraping the side of their vehicle. As it passed, he saw the LT shouting at his driver. It kept moving forward and shoved the burning carcass of Billy's Humvee more to the side. There was just barely enough room for the lieutenant's Humvee to squeeze between the blazing eight ton and junked cars. Greg floored the gas pedal following the LT.

Jeff helped Tom get another belt in the fifty as the Humvee bounced and filled again with smoke and the stench of burning rubber. His heart was racing as he crawled back into the front seat. Again he felt his vest for the mags that he had checked for a dozen times, then tapped the spot where his shirt pocket was. Tom was firing short bursts at the roofs.

Greg slowed the vehicle slightly and increased his swerving from side to side on the once again wide street. When ten more meters had opened up between him and the lieutenant's Humvee, he floored it again. He didn't want to tailgate the leading vehicle. He stared at the billowing smoke ahead. "I don't have a good feeling about goin' back through this next one!"

"No shit!" Jeff watched Ron, the LT's fifty gunner, laying down continuous fire to both sides of the street. He wasn't too careful about where he was aiming, not that he could given the street condition and speed. For a moment Jeff wondered how many non-combatants were behind those windows. It was only a brief thought because the next smoky wall was fast approaching. As the lead vehicle plunged into the blackness, Jeff heard the lieutenant shouting on the radio, but it was still garbled. There was a small explosion, probably a grenade. Greg drove through the smoke curtain then his foot rammed down on the brake pedal skidding the Humvee to a stop. Jeff's body lunged against the dashboard and windshield.

The lieutenant's Humvee was stopped twenty-five meters ahead near a road blocking barricade of cars at the intersection that hadn't been there less than a few minutes ago. Gray smoke was rising from beneath Hummer's hood. They were taking sporadic small arms fire. The LT got out, firing his weapon with one hand. His other arm and hand were holding the radio. He was shouting into the mike still sending static filled nonsense. Ron was firing the .50 to the right side of the street. Tom was still firing too. Jeff quickly crawled over the seat again. He buttoned up the rear and side windows raising the steel plates suddenly wishing the gun openings were smaller. He grabbed another belt and waited for Tom to call for ammo.

Jeff turned his head and saw the LT was now crouched at the rear of the smoking Humvee. He was still talking into the radio and repeatedly pointing to a store front ahead of their position. Greg floored the gas then stopped again at the shop where the lieutenant was pointing. Tom reached down for a new belt. Jeff handed it to him.

Greg yelled, "Let's move!" He grabbed his M-16 and the radio then opened the door. He got out and crouched looking for targets, then randomly fired at the windows and roofs above and up and down his side of the street. He looked at the door of the shop. It was closed and had a grid of steel bars over the glass. The next shop down had an open door. He didn't want to chance the closed door was dead bolted, so he rose and ran the fifteen feet to the open door of the next shop. It had been looted, stripped bare of nearly everything including the light fixtures. From the doorway, he started firing three round bursts at the windows across the street to cover the LT.

Jeff scrambled out of the Humvee's open door. He crouched alongside the vehicle's hood and scanned the near side of the street looking for weapons protruding or heads popping out from the rooftops, doors, or windows but saw nothing. The storefront began taking a lot of small arms rounds. Jeff turned around and started firing at every window and roof he thought fire might be coming from across the street. It seemed enemy fire was only coming from the buildings across the street and the line of cars. He hoped it was a classic "L" ambush and didn't have to worry too much about his side of the street. He saw Ron on the other Humvee's .50 get hit with at least two rounds. It was like an invisible baseball bat had slammed into his chest twice.

The driver got out firing continuously on full auto at the line of cars as he crouched behind the open door. The guy emptied the entire clip. He fumbled a few seconds getting a new mag in. As he turned to make his way to the rear of vehicle to join the lieutenant, a grenade bounced off the hood of the Humvee landing a couple meters to the left side of the vehicle and exploded. The driver was hit and fell to the street writhing.

The LT pointed to the storefront again and then belly crawled to the driver. He dragged him to the rear of the angled Humvee. Kneeling on the pavement, he attached his weapon low on his back, then he worked the driver up onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. He wrapped the strap of the small radio around his hand then gripped the driver's arm again. He stayed crouched looking from Greg to Jeff.

Tom stopped firing, and hurriedly pulled another belt up to the fifty. Jeff raised his fist in a "wait" sign to the lieutenant and then pointed to the fifty. He aimed his weapon and started firing where he saw muzzle flashes in a second floor window three buildings down from the LT. Tom started firing the fifty. The lieutenant rose carrying the driver and started running to the storefront. His helmet fell off. Jeff's fire halted the enemy fire coming from the window. He turned to look for more targets to cover the LT just in time to see the lieutenant's head explode into a bloody cloud. His momentum threw the driver forward off his shoulders. Enemy fire raked across the guy's legs a few times. His body jerked each time he was hit.

Jeff looked at Greg. He was still firing across the street. Jeff crouched lower against the Humvee and exhaled sharply, "Fuck." He wished he knew the driver's name but the guy had just transferred in that morning and he couldn't recall what it was. He remembered someone had said the guy was only a couple months out of boot.

From his crouch Jeff fired three round bursts at a half dozen windows and then a few more at the line of cars. He yelled to the fallen driver in his best impression of a DI voice, "MARINE! MOVE YOU LAZY SONOFABITCH! DO IT! CRAWL! CRAWL TOWARDS MY VOICE RIGHT NOW!" He watched the guy try to move but he just squirmed in place. It was then Jeff noticed that the guy's foot was attached to his leg with nothing more than a strip of flesh at best, maybe just a piece of cloth. The fifty went silent. Jeff turned and saw Tom dip down into the Humvee again for another belt of ammo. Jeff duck walked to the open driver's door. "Tom! Cover me! I gotta get LT's driver! Cover me!"

Tom screamed his words quickly, "I don't know where the fuck they are! They must be movin' around! Did you see Ron get hit?! It went right through his vest! You think there might be a sniper with some fuckin' armor piercing rounds or some special shit?! Fuck! Okay! I'll rake all the fuckin' cars and buildings!" He stood up, slammed the first round into the chamber and started firing.

Jeff was thinking about the lieutenant's missing head as he quickly slung his weapon onto his back. He tighten the chin strap on his helmet then looked up to see Greg staring at him, shaking his head and frowning. Jeff gave him the hand sign for cover fire. Greg shrugged and started firing on full auto, spraying the windows and roof lines across the street, then the cars.

Jeff, his heart racing, took a quick breath and darted the twenty feet to the fallen marine. He grabbed the collar and waist of the guy's kevlar vest. He picked him up as best he could and ran awkwardly with every ounce of his strength and speed to the open shop door. He bumped into Greg as he virtually threw the wounded marine into the vacant shop. He fell to the floor too as the front of the store suddenly took a lot of small arms rounds.

Jeff felt like vomiting. When he grabbed the marine he had envisioned his own head exploding just like LT's. He hurriedly opened his aid kit. He quickly applied a tourniquet just below the marine's knee. His barely attached foot had fallen off in the dash into the store. Jeff knew he had half dragged the guy but also knew he would have lost the foot anyway even if he had been medivacced. He emptied a packet of dry antibacterial on the stump and quickly bandaged it. He then rolled the guy over. Jeff was surprised to see him still alive when he saw the other wounds.

The nameless marine repeatedly murmured, "Oh Mary oh Mother of God oh Mary oh Mother of God..."

Jeff looked at the guy's legs as he hurriedly pulled out his knife to cut the pant leg. Both were hit. The lower left thigh was ripped wide open, he could see bone, but it was the right thigh that worried Jeff. He cut the soaked pant leg. A thick stream of hot sticky blood pumped out of the wound with each heartbeat. He pressed the heel of his hand down as hard as he could against the hole. He looked at the guy's face. It was ghost white under the blood and dirt. He kept pressing against the wound, maybe it would give the guy a few more seconds, maybe another minute.

He leaned down so they were face to face. Jeff thought he looked like someone's little brother, a kid, but was probably only a year younger than himself. Because of his murmured mantra, Jeff figured the guy was probably a Catholic as he was. He decided what to say and wondered if it would actually make any difference for the guy in another minute. He shouted, "I'm gonna patch you up! You're gonna be okay, man! But what the hell, say you're sorry to God!" The guy's dazed eyes blinked. "Just tell God you're sorry for all your sins and it's ALL gonna be OKAY!"

The kid nodded and even gave Jeff a little smile, then he started shaking. Jeff grabbed his small aid kit with his free hand but had to lift his other off the leg wound to get the styrette of morphine out. When he finally had it and looked up the marine was motionless, his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Jeff knew he had bled out. One of the rounds had severed the femoral artery. He didn't check for a pulse. The kid had basically been KIA out on the street. Jeff gazed at the dead eyes. He didn't know he was holding his own breath.

Greg turned his head and shouted, "Jeff! How bad is he?!"

Jeff swallowed. "Kee-ah!"

"Check out the rear!" Greg looked outside again and started firing out the store window at muzzle flashes from the line of cars.

Jeff unslung his M16 and looked at the dimly lit rear of the store. He wondered about a back entry. There was a narrow hallway on the left. He jumped up and went to the back wall. He checked his magazine and exchanged it with a full one. He looked quickly around the corner. He saw two doors off the hallway and the rear entry door at the end of the hall. One hallway door was closed as was the rear door to the building. The rear door looked to be steel.

He imagined little kids huddled on a bed in each of the small rooms. He then imagined a couple hadjies in each room with AKs pointed at the door. He thumbed the lever to put his weapon on full auto. He moved down the hall, his back to the wall. To look through the open first doorway he turned around to face the wall then quickly tilted and pulled back his head. He didn't see anyone. He did it again to be sure. There was broken furniture in the room. There wasn't a door hinged to the door frame.

He quietly moved down to the next room. He stepped past the door so he could use his left hand on the doorknob as he held his weapon with his right. He turned the knob and then pushed the door so hard that when swung inward, it banged against the wall. The sound made him flinch. Empty crates and refuse were in the room. Nothing more. There was a tiny barred window letting light in. He shivered for a moment picturing huddled kids again, realizing he had almost hosed the room. He checked the rear door. It was steel. It was locked. He set his weapon back to semi-auto and ran to the front of the shop where Greg was firing three round bursts. He shouted over the noise to Greg, "Did you get anyone on the radio?!" Jeff fired a dozen rounds at the line of cars, then looked over at Greg.

"Can't get shit on it!" He aimed at another window and fired.

Jeff took a deep breath. "Tom should get in here with the fifty! I'll help him with it!" He glanced at the back of the store. "The rear is clear! Steel door is locked, but don't forget about your six!" He imagined a hadji with a key opening the door and a few grenades rolling in. Greg kept firing and nodded. "Cover me!" Jeff set his weapon against the wall next to his friend. He waited until Greg put in a new mag and started firing five second auto bursts, raking the windows and roofs across the street.

Jeff angled out the door, sprinting the short distance to the vehicle and dove inside. He heard the pings from rounds hitting the Humvee. "TOM!" Tom ducked into the Humvee. Jeff shouted, "Let's take cover in the building! Can you get the fifty?! I'll take the ammo!"

"It's hotter than hell!" He blinked a couple times at Jeff. "How about this?! I'll finish off the belt to cover you, then I'll set it on the roof and get it from there! You guys cover me!" He stared at Jeff for a moment. "Yeah, let's do it like that! You take the ammo! I'll take the fifty..." He looked to the floor and pulled the folded tripod from the back of the car. "... and the 'pod! But... shit, that weapon is fuckin' hot!"

"Okay! If you can't do it, fuck it! We'll come back for it!"

Tom grinned crazily. "Maybe I'll jump on the roof and piss on the fuckin' thing first to cool it off!"

Jeff grinned and almost started laughing. He nodded, "Yeah, do that!" He knew why they were both grinning like idiots. He grabbed one handle of the heavy box of 50 caliber ammo. They both heard small arms rounds hitting the Humvee and both thanked God they had welded scrap steel to it a month ago. Louie Lou had scrounged the steel. Tom helped him shove and lift the ammo box to the Humvee's open door. Jeff crouched outside the door and gripped both handles of the box. He met Tom's eyes for a long moment, their grins had disappeared. Words weren't necessary. They both knew they were in very deep shit.

When Tom began firing, Jeff heaved the ammo box up. He lunged and stumbled with it angling towards the shop doorway. He heard pops near his ear. He knew they were micro sonic booms of small arms rounds passing by his head. He slid to the floor of the shop with the box. He stayed there for a few moments trying to catch his breath. He was shaking and had to get that under control too. He took a long drink from his water bottle then rose and got his weapon. Greg had used up the clip. He slapped in a fresh mag. He looked at Tom squatting with his back against the Humvee. The fifty was on the ground in front of him along with the tripod. He had his gloves on plus his left hand was wrapped with a rag ready to lift the fifty's hot muzzle to get the weapon onto his shoulder. His M-16 was slung over his back. He was waiting for the incoming small arms fire to lessen.

Jeff moved to the right side of the door. He still didn't know which windows the enemy fire was coming from. He fired a few brief auto bursts at every one he figured would be good places for the hadjies to be firing from. He or Greg must have guessed right because the incoming fire suddenly slacked off. They both kept firing.

Tom shouted, "Cover me!" He hoisted the fifty to his shoulder and grabbed the tripod with his free hand. He got up to a crouch but before he took the first step he was hit in the shoulder. The round turned him and then seemed to slap him back against the Humvee. The fifty and the tripod clattered to the pavement.

Jeff heard it. He poked his head out the doorway and looked right. He saw a combatant in a striped T shirt and blue jeans running away along the buildings holding an AK in his hand. It looked like a teenager. Before Jeff could bring his weapon to bear the kid disappeared into a building. "Fuck!" He jerked back behind the door jamb again.

Greg shouted. "Tom's hit bad! He ain't gonna make it in here by himself! I think the fuckers are in them two windows, fourth and fifth from that little alley!" He figured they would spray the windows then he would dash out and get Tom.