Trial By Fire

Night was approaching fast.

* * *

After Haberer was hit in the chest he stumbled back and fell over McCowan. McCowan instinctively released a high explosive round from his M203 toward the shot. He saw a body fly up and heard a loud SNAP as it hit a tree.

Haberer was gasping for air. Tears rolled down his cheeks and wet the ground on either side of his face. Every beat of his heart brought another gush of blood out of the dime-sized hole in his chest. McCowan watched Haberer take a long gasp of air and let it out. He didn’t inhale again.

"Well, I guess I’m going to save the day now." McCowan checked Haberer’s rifle. 5 rounds. Along with his three and the 2 he found on the ground that made a whopping 10 bullets, and no grenades left. He decided just to throw the useless M203 away. So he pulled out his pistol with one emergency magazine. Then he leaned down and closed Haberer’s dead eyes. Once again he followed the trail of the enemy toward the ridge.

* * *

The enemy’s request for support was immediate. The platoon in the ambush position moved down to cover the rest of the ridge and block the Americans in. They had heard the shot and explosion just before dusk and placed rear security elements around their perimeter. It was now pitch dark, there was no moon tonight, and they knew there were only 2 tired, battle-worn men on the ridge above them.

One of the rear security guards was lying in the prone looking out for any American support. He had heard no helicopters and Americans were too lazy to do anything without those so he wasn’t too worried. As a matter of fact, he thought this was stupid to waste good people as rear security guards. He also didn’t believe the stories that 12 men had killed all of his battalion’s staff. So he dozed, half awake and half asleep.

He awoke with a start. He’d dreamed a dark figure had walked right up to him. What a weird dream. He stretched and rolled over to one side.

The dark figure’s hand darted forward. The knife penetrated the guard’s temple. He never even knew how he died.

* * *

Oakland was struggling to stay awake. He kept checking on Clarke in order to keep himself alert. Now that it was pitch dark they could hardly see anything. Only shadows and flickers of movement. They did know that they were now surrounded by at least a platoon, maybe even that whole company.

All of a sudden there was a hand covering Oakland’s mouth. He screamed but the sound was muffled. Clarke turned to see McCowan smiling at them both. He released Oakland.

"Goddamit, you scared the shit out of me!" Oakland whispered shrilly.

"Sorry, I figured you guys were up here since that’s what they were surrounding. Still got the box?" McCowan asked.

"Of course," Clarke answered eagerly, "How’d you get up here?"

"Well, let’s just say there’s 8 more bodies out there." He held up the blood stained knife. "How’re you guys on ammo? Not good I’m assuming." They showed him the 1 drum and 7 bullets. McCowan shook his head and got to work. He picked up the grenade next to the ammo box.

"That’s for the box." Oakland protested.

"Not anymore. Don’t worry, we won’t need it." McCowan pulled the pun and jammed it under the SAW’s butt stock. He then threw dirt over the grenade to cover it.

"That’s my only weapon." Clarke said.