A silent Prayer

Danny James was only 17 and a junior in high school. He was on the varsity football team and fairly well liked. His brown hair and eyes and average looks made him almost forgettable. He was young and was filled with passion for the things he considered important, just like all the teenagers before and all the ones to come after him. What was a wholesome kid like this doing crawling across the roof of an apartment building, pulling a high-tech devise designed to rapidly transport several pounds of high explosives to a new location in a very rapid manner? Danny had met with some friends of his best friends brother who was home from college.

They stayed up late drinking beer and talking about what was going on. In the capitol it was near chaos. What had started as a polite difference in political ideology, had over years become hatred, prejudice, bigotry and outright hate. Once the two parties could at least agree to disagree, but the level of abhorrence of the other side’s ideas had lead to personal attacks in the forms of investigative reporting. The Bread and Circus of old had been replaced with beer and scandals. One side would do it’s best to point out the flaws of the other. Partisan lines were drawn and the media, ever interested in ratings had been more than interested in covering each scandal and each verbal attack. Without ever admitting it they were the hammer driving the political wedge into the very core of the country.

Elections became closer as fewer people voted outside of ideology and this lead to the infamous 80/20 election where the popular vote was overwhelmingly cast but the Electoral College voted against public opinion and the conservatives were swept out of power. After the new administration has taken office, it came to light that there was massive organized fraud, blackmail and intimidation concerning the members of the EC. Just as articles of impeachment were about to be introduced, the attacks happened.

On one humid, hot, oppressive summer morning, people went about their daily lives only to have them shattered. In twenty-eight locations across the nation, gunmen, suicide bombers and demolitions experts, all trained terrorists struck within 10 minutes of each other. The main targets of the gunmen were elementary schools where the focus of their evil act was the cafeterias. They were devastatingly efficient, managing to waste few bullets and claiming hundreds of lives before the police were able to respond in force. The gunmen, to a man, fought to the death.

The ten suicide bombers were more efficient, targeting populated areas such as crowded super markets, malls and theaters. The remaining eight were perhaps the scariest. They were educated enough to have carried out concise demolition operations on large freeway overpasses, bridges and in one case a national monument. The heinous bombers work had been scary but the really frightening fact was that all eight of them had managed to slip across the southern boarder where the trail grew cold. All in all the death toll from that day was more than five thousand.

The investigative arms of law enforcement sprung into life with a vengeance, running down every lead they could find while the nation mourned in stunned silence. Officers and Detectives followed the trail back from the dead men to the south where the enemies of peace slip into the country across the largely unwatched border. One group had even been given water, food and directions to their destination by a group of migrant’s rights workers. It was determined that the terrorists were part of the same group that nation had been at war with for years.

The President ordered martial law citing evidence of more attacks that were only moments away form being launched. A very hastily drafted emergency war powers act was sent to the congress where it was quickly got a vote that followed party lines. Not having enough time to read the entire bill, the conservatives voted no and wanting to be seen supporting their party the liberals voted yes. The War Powers Act gave the president the authority to call martial law and to have the federal government arrest anyone that was deemed a threat to the safety and welfare of the country. When these details came to light there were massive protests.

Conservatives hated the legislation because it violated basic rights and it defied the constitution that has served so faithfully for so long. A march on the capitol was planned. When the protestors showed up, the president ordered them all arrested on the grounds of sedition. While the Vice President and his other, advisors were talking him out of that plan the police, backed up by the military, tried to contain the protest to the mall area. Know one knows who fired that fateful shot. The liberal’s claim it was the conservative, gun-toting protestors, and the conservative’s of course claim it was one of the federal officers. Some point to this as the first official shot in the second civil war.

The ironic part is that there were gun-toting conservatives in the crowd and they fired, drawing both sides into a battle. When the shooting stopped, the only sound was the cries of the three hundred wounded protestors and twenty-three wounded Federals. The official death toll was never released; however scholars place it around seventy. The Minority leader called an emergency session to discuss the incident. Several of the more vocal media commentators demanded that the articles of impeachment be amended to include the indecent. They were promptly arrested for sedition under the EWPA and the right was astounded at the audacity of the administration. The promised to shut the government down until the EWPA was repealed. When the first conservative stood up to begin the recently vaunted filibuster, he was handcuffed and carried off of the senate floor. One by one all of the party was led off to fates still unknown.

Thousands descended on the capitol, but all were met with violence, overwhelming, cold and final violence. The attacks on the seat of the nation were continuing, but it was becoming more of a guerilla war back east where the majority of the population favored the federal. In the South and the Midwestern portion of the country, many folks were conservative in nature. It stood to reason that the country split along the vote maps of the last election cycle.

When several states declared that since the government abandoned the constitution, they were in fact no longer obliged to be part of the nation. The Federalists, were none too happy and were seeking to bring them back into line. There were many changes enacted under the EWPA including the Press Corps becoming an official branch of the government, under the Department of Defense.

As Danny listened to the college students talk about the recent history and of the intent of the founding fathers, he became mad at the federals for taking away his right to elect who he wanted to. After all, he didn’t want some blue-blood country club snob telling him what to do, what to think. Freedom of the press was his to enjoy not the Feds to take away. So Danny volunteered.

At first Danny just did small things like keep an eye on the rail lines seeing what kind of goods were being transported. He also was letting his brothers friends know when the Federal Troops went on patrol. Once Danny had heard about the Quickie mart he knew he had to do more. His mission today was to attack the lead transport in the morning patrol. They had explained the procedure over and over to him, though he had never fired weapon in his life until last week. His cell leader had him practice over and over with a rifle then made him shoot a cow in order to desensitize him to killing, or so he said. He was to destroy the lead APC, then run across the roof to the construction debris slide on the far side. He was to use that to get to the ground floor, then blend into the street.

Danny reached his spot and slowly peered over the side down to the street below, he could hear the engines and the rumbling as they came through the city. Extending the tub and taking off the end caps he said a silent prayer that he would be able to do this, he wanted to do it right, it was his overwhelming thought.

A Pair of Fives, King high

“Ok, a pair of fives showing, king high, who wants to pay to see the next card?” Jones called out, like he was some Vegas dealer and not some wanna be that was wrapped up into a fad. Allen looked up for a moment and saw that there were four guys still in the game. Allen turned back to his book, he loved to read. Currently he was working his way through a murder mystery. John was cleaning his rifle again, he tended to do that when he was bored. The gym that was not their home for the foreseeable future was a beehive of activity

Allen was startled when he heard his name called out, along with that of Jones, Boudreaux and Greg. It brought a pain to him when he expected eddies name, but it was not called out. He looked over at the doors and there were four MPs complete with mirrored sunglasses waiting. Allen noticed John looking at him, he shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe we have more paper work to fill out” He told him. “lets go see what they want”

Jonsey folded up his card game in a hurry, he woke Gregg up and the four of them approached the military police. “Are you Jones, Croix, Boudreaux and Eaddy?” the Lieutenant in charge of the bunch asked. Allen spoke for the group, “Yes, can we help you, Sir?” Lieutenant Smith looked about the room wondering if these guys had enough friends to make this ugly, but most were not paying attention. “Yes, you’re under arrest for the murders of two civilians. You have the right to remain silent…” Allen stood still, almost numb, he barely remembered the officer reading him his rights. Two of the MPS turned him around and placed cuffs on him. Jones looked at him and nodded, telling him to go with it. John, however, didn’t want to have cuffs put on him ever again. He turned and started to run, and most likely would have gotten at least out of the gym had the third MP had not hit him over the head with is baton. John fell like a dead man, a nasty bruise starting to show through his crew cut red hair.

Greg, to his credit decided to just put his hands up. The three of them were led off and the LT had drafted two men in the impromptu BEQ to carry John. The MPs had take up office in the county Sheriffs office. They were thrown into a cell that seemed like it had not seen any cleaning in years. The small sell had two solid walls and two made of bars. The beige paint was faded from repeated scrubbings and the fluorescent lighting with missing tubes contributed to a dismal feeling. The LT sat at a desk filling out some paperwork while one of the two sergeants called for a medic to take a look at John. Greg looked out the barred window, Jonesy curled up on one of the nasty cots. Allen gave up trying to get the chiseled chinned recruiting poster boy officer to tell them why they were here. The strangest thing was when they had photographers come in and let them take a bunch of pictures. All with the cell bars in-between. This was going to break his mothers heart.


Brenner looked through the scope of his rifle at the sheriff’s office. There were several men being led into it in handcuffs, feds, not locals not suspected rebels. Something was not right here. He lowered the rifle and began the long slow process of backing down the other side of the hill. He would melt away and call this in. Why would the FEDS be arresting their own? There was something fishy about it. If there had been any looting or major media breaches, they would have known about it. This was something more.
As he slipped off the slope and onto the concrete poured at the bottom he heard the noise of a military vehicle headed his way. He darted behind the burned out wreck and crouched down. Peering through the twisted metal he saw two of the Army’s new infantry fighting vehicles come into view. This was bad news he thought to himself, group told them that the IFV would not be in service for another year due to sabotage in the plant making them. Brenner pulled out his small camera and disabled the flash. He took as many photos as he could with out exposing his position. The camouflaged vehicles lumbered out of view, and Brenner waited a few moments before he darted to the storm drain on the edge of the street, she dropped to the ground and rolled into it dropping the bottom. The water smelled, he still was not used to it, but it was the safest way to move around when carrying a weapon now that the Feds were here. He crawled to the main line and slipped into it landing on his feet. At least he could walk in here even if it was stooped over.

Walking the three mile underground with bad lighting did nothing to help his mood. By the time Brenner got to the bunker, he was mad at himself for not taking the shot at that officer leading the cuffed men in and mad at himself for almost getting caught and mad that the intel he got was wrong, again. He knocked on the door and waited. He knew that the guards had been watching him since he entered the tunnel. “Name” was the only word out of the hollow sounding speaker box. “Ryan Brenner. 863050” after a pause the door opened and he slipped through. Once the door shut light came on and he handed his rifle off to one of the guards as another ran a chemical stiffer over him. Ryan waited with impatience, if he wanted to kill the commander he would not need explosives.

Once he was cleared he walked down the hall way which was decorated in an early twentieth century bomb shelter motif. He got to the Commanders office which was more of a conference room now. He looked about, the CO was nowhere to be seen which meant he was relieving himself or he was in the operations center. Scott headed that way thinking about how in the last few hours about how things had changed, and about how they were about to get a lot more dangerous.

Murder, Conspiracy and Tampering with Evidence

The uprising was not going well for the rebels, they had lost a lot of ground in pitched battled and now were be forced deeper into the country. They needed the promised foreign aid and soon or the feds could over run them. The rebels needed to strike hard and fast, they needed some victories and again they needed them fast to help keep the peoples support. It was a race. Major Stevens knew that he had to quash the rebels quickly. But force alone was not enough, he had to show these stupid back woods people that just because the government was acting harshly it was not out of hate.

“Captain, I need you to get with the imbeds and have them write up a story about what happened at that gas station, have them tell the full truth, but indicate to them it might look better if they print that we are going to hold a trial for the four soldiers involved so they can account for their actions.” The aid quickly took down some notes on his pad. “Are we actually going to try them sir?” The major pulled out a cigar and sniped the end before he lit it with his trusty Zippo. “Yes, yes we are captain. They will get a fair trial before found guilty and executed for the act of murder and conspiracy to cover up a crime, namely said murder.” He blew a smoke ring out as the captain opened his mouth to speak. “Yes, captain?” “Nothing sir.”

The aid left to go find a few reporters to drop hints to, it was easier now that they had to run all stories through the chain of command for approval, back in the old days reporters could print anything they wished, and sometimes even mad eup things, not that anyone ever talked about that anymore. The Press Corps was a good idea in Captain Schmidt’s eyes. He thought that he would just happen upon the hotel where they were staying with a bottle of scotch, he would be polite and offer a drink and let it slip that the patrol would be facing charges.

“Major Stevens here, I need you to go arrest the four on that patrol from the gas station, yeah the firebugs. Get with the Eddings and have him write up charges for murder, conspiracy, tampering with evidence. Yes, a quick trial, and invite the em-beds. We want the locals to see that we care about them and will punish anyone who gets out of line. Good” He hung up the phone and leaned back in the chair that he claimed as his own. This was good after all. He would show the Reds that the government was about the rule of law, no matter what the idiot protestors claimed. He would show them that he was here only to deal with the people that picked up arms and would do harm to this great nation. He wouldn’t be a hero to them, but he would be seen as fair, too bad those four guys from the 2nd Platoon had to die for it.

Captain Johnston

This incident would not be forgotten, it would be avenged, it didn’t matter what the real issues were that caused the rebellion, the only thing that mattered now was the perception of how the government handled it. Captain Johnston surveyed the remains of the gas station. The shop was burned down, the tanks emptied, the pumps destroyed and the two bodies swaying from ropes tied to their feet. The carrion insects were already swarming about the men.

Johnston looked with disgusts. Charlie and Keith were not rebels, they could only be counted on for support if you could pay for it, and they were a couple of grease monkeys trying to scratch out a living in an oppressive environment. They had no politics other than what the register held. What ever had gone down here was the work of the Feds. Overkill, it was a hallmark of the oppressors. Put fear in the local populace and they would cower and not rise up. He shook his head as he took in the waste. Charlie would not have resisted, something had gone on, even accounting for the blood at the edge of the parking lot, someone had fired on a solider and the feds in turned shot both of the men in the back and strung them by the feet for the locals to see.

“Eversman, take some pictures of those bodies and upload them as soon as possible, Psy-ops will want that. Take a few of the station too.” Johnston hated using people he knew like this, but he had to show the rest of the country what the Feds were capable of and if that meant taking some pics of good men shot in the back so be it. “Let them know that the Feds can in demanding his stock and when they asked for payment the feds shot them in the back then burned the station. Also put in the dispatch that Charlie and Keith accounted for at least three of the enemy.” It was all bull, but support was wainign, people cared more for reruns of reality shows than they did about the government suspending their rights. At least the trains ran on time was an old Russian quote referring to life under Stalin, and it held true today. People didn’t care about politics since the other side had stolen the government.

The sad thing, Johnston thought to himself was that the majority of people would just shake their heads and feel bad until the news break was over and Fat slob and his hot wife came back on with lame jokes that relied on sexual innuendo instead of being clever. Johnston could not remember the last time when watched TV when it wasn’t news. “Lets get them down and burry them and then get the hell out of here.” He had a bad feeling about this.

The uprising was not going well for the rebels, they had lost a lot of ground in pitched battled and now were be forced deeper into the country. They needed the promised foreign aid and soon or the feds could over run them. The rebels needed to strike hard and fast, they needed some victories and again they needed them fast to help keep the peoples support

The Quickie Mart Martyrs

This could be nothing, or it could be the start of hell on earth for the five of them. It would depend on how they acted when they got up to the station. Charlie looked at the five Feds as they talked at the edge of the tree line. Yep, they would be coming soon. The talk in town was that they would be reinforcing the paratroopers that came in last week. It was all BS it Charlie. It was bad for business as the Federals closed all the major highways and were only letting those with permits through. The gas selling business was hurting big time.

Charlie nodded to Keith, who climbed up into the attic of the old station. Charlie Looked below the counter at the Shotgun he kept for holdups. He felt reassured that it was there. Charlie hated this damn fight. He wanted no part of it and he didn’t care which side won, he just wanted life to get back to normal.

The five soldiers spread apart, two going towards the back, like Charlie had something to hide. Two more came towards the front while the fifth one stayed in the trees, setting up a machine gun. Charlie slipped his old revolver into the back of his pants and pulled his flannel shirt over it. He looked around and picked up a shop rag and started wiping his hands as he walked out the door. The two Feds didn’t exactly raise their rifles at him, but they did move them in his direction. “Howdy, what do you boys need? I got cold sodas, beer and a couple of sandwiches in the shop, for a fee of course” He wanted to let them know that they could buy stuff, but not have it.

The shorter of the two seemed to be in charge, he smiled. “I don’t have any cash on me, but a sip or two out of your water fountain would be awesome”. Allen wanted to seem friendly but not condescending and he really was thirsty. By asking for a drink, he was inviting himself in so he could look around. He wanted to be able to report to the major that the gas station was benign. “Help your self” Charlie replied. He moved to hold the door open because he didn’t want the fed looking around without him there.

Allen moved to the door and looked around he saw the dusty shelves and register, looking at everything in the room but the fountain. He noticed a shotgun under the counter with a half empty box of shells. Normally Allen would be concerned, but a gas station on the outskirts of town, along a dark road, no this guy was just concerned about security. Allen walked over to the fountain and took a sip, the cold water felt great. He had to be careful not to take in too much. Getting cramps would be a bad thing while in the field.

He wiped his chin and moved back to the door. “You know, there is a ban on personally owned fire arms, such as shotguns, right?” “You don’t say” “Yeah, I do say. If some government official came by and saw one, say under a counter, he would be obligated to report that and then the property would be seized.” “I didn’t know that” Charlie replied, knowing full well that was the one of the statutes in the martial law that the Federals had imposed since the uprising began. “Sir, I recommend you make sure that there are no firearms in plain sight on these premises, ok?” Allen waited, he didn’t want to have to report this, and he didn’t want this guy to have to suffer any more than he had. It was evident that business was not booming for him. “I’ll make sure of that, general.” Allen smiled and moved through the door while Charlie crossed to the counter and picked up the shotgun.

The plate glass window shattered as three rounds from John’s rifle thundered into the small shop. Charlie’s staggered forward as three more rounds punched into his back, his lifeless body fell over the cash register. Keith hearing the noise below sighted in on the man at the machine gun, his .30-.30 deer rifle had a scope on it and he had claimed many deer with it, but paused a moment before he pulled the trigger. His shot was straight and true. Eddie’s head flew back then forward the single bullet ending his life is a flash. Eddie died without knowing why or how.

John looked around when he heard the shot. He fell against the side of the building. Looking up he saw the rifle barrel being pulled back into the vent. Allen looked into the door way at Charlie. Rage filled him as he looked out the window in time to see John and Greg fall against the wall. John looking around he caught Allen’s eye and pointed up. Allen looked the shop and saw the access panel in the ceiling, he pointed it out to John who nodded. Allen move slowly over to the panel as another shot rang out from above them.

A scream sounded from the front of the station. “I’m hit” Jones cried out in a panicked voice. “I’m pinned down” he panted out. Allen cursed himself for forgetting about Jonesy. When he reached the ladder, he slung is rifle and pulled his pistol. Climbing the ladder seemed to take fore ever, slowly one rung at a time.

Keith cursed under his breath; he knew that nothing good was going on down there. He watched the second solider fall and take cover behind the pumps. There was no way Keith was going to fire at the pump, he has too much respect for fire to do that. Keith moved to the other side, trying to find out what happened to the two that went to the back. He pressed his eyes to the vent and looked out, not seeing anything. He pressed up close looking down as far as he could.

Allen slowly pushed the trap door open he saw movement to his left. Pointing his .40 S&W that way he saw the silhouette of a man looking out and down. He’s looking for us Allen thought as he looked at the rifle hunter he thought to himself. He leveld the pistol at the center mass, lining up the front and rear sites on the thin man’s back. How the hell can you kill an innocent animal? Allen gently applied just enough pressure to fire the first round and then popped off four more, the first and two more hit the target who fell like a sack of potatoes. Allen quickly spun about looking around the rest of the dirty attic. ‘CLEAR” he yelled out “Greg, check Jonesy. John go find out why Eddie didn’t cover us” Allen crawled over to the body and reached in to the back pocket. He pulled out the wallet. The old state issued drivers license inside of it identified the man as Keith Roye. Well he thought at least it’s not an issue, two illegal fire arms, an invalid state id, no federal papers. There is no way this was going to be an unlawful shooting. The Major might even be happy about it.

The thought that they made it through another incident was not all that comforting. What should have been easy was not and two locals that may or most likely may not have been rebels were dead, Jones was wounded and all for nothing. Allen climbed down the ladder and moved out the door. “JOHN!” The more he thought about it the more pissed he was becoming. John walked out of the tree line with a smirk on his face. “Eddie caught a round in the forehead.” All of a sudden Allen hated John with a passion he had never felt before. He threw a sucker punch that knocked John off of his feet. On his way down, John reached for his rifle. Allen had his pistol trained on him before he could bring it to bear. “Think about it, or do you want to be a KIA along with Eddie” John held up his hands “Dude, what is the big deal? Eddie was deadweight and we killed two rebs that no one will miss.”

Allen looked at John not believing that the stupid moron had the balls to say that. “John, we didn’t kill to rebels, we created two more martyrs for their cause, You don’t get it do you?” He shook his head wondering how someone so vile could be serving in the same army as he was. This incident would not be forgotten, it would be avenged, it didn’t matter what the real issues were that caused the rebellion, the only thing that mattered now was the perception of how the government handled it.

The Gas Station

Lowering his rifle the trooper, reached for his microphone to call in and let the major know that his plan worked perfectly. “Red Dog 6, this is Red Dog 1, over” he spoke in to the radio. “Red Dog 1, Red Dog 6 go, over” was the reply. “All secure, sir, we didn’t take any casualties and we count six enemy KIAs.” He waited for the Majors response. “Good, resume patrol, Over” Allen turned to his squad. “Ok, the major is real happy now, so happy that we get to continue this stroll through the woods. Check them bodies for documents or other stuff that the Intel weenies would want.”

He looked around, wishing for a smoke, but knew that he would not be able to have one for more than eight hours, not until the column pulled into the city. It amazed him that so much changes when you become a part of the army. Just a few months ago, he was a half hearted college student more interested in hitting the local bars than any text book. His biggest dilemma back then was trying to decide which pizza chain to call for a late night snack, but now, well eating MREs was not exactly a joy but at least he was eating. Dodging snipers, watching for traps and ambushes around every corner, that was what he spent his days doing. Bombs, mines, pitfalls, spikes, and drops were all things that he had to keep an eye out for. He reached down and pulled the magazine out of his rifle, looking at it he counted only 6 rounds left in it. He reached into his web gear and extracted a full clip into his rifle. If only they would give us a stand up fight like they are out by the border he thought to himself, then we could put them in their place in short order and I could go back to school.

He checked his watch and realized that he had four more hours left on patrol. It was an important job. The rebels had hit the column five times at the cost of two tanks and APC and 22 dead or wounded not to mention that they were being stalled. Each attack forced the Major to deploy men to find the enemy, who usually ran to hide or set another ambush. “Boudreaux What the hell are you doing?” he called out. “I’m Setting a grenade under this scab. Some reb comes along sees his buddy, goes to burry him and BOOM, two rebs for the price of one!” Boudreaux grinned as he started to pull the pin. “What if some kid comes along and looks for a souvenir or something?” “Sucks to be him” Was the reply. Allen had enough of John’s shit but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He watched john pull the pin and rotate the body back onto the explosive devise.

The sounds of the armor moving down the road carried through the brush jarring the men into action “Come on ladies we have 20 more miles to go before we can sit on our asses and wax on about what bad asses we are” Allen called out to the squad. The men got up and carefully fell into their positions before moving parallel to the road. John took point, followed by Jonesy then Allen, Greg and Eddie brought up the rear. Allen thought about them and about how he hated some but loved them all. It was funny like that, guys you would never associate with in the real world become your best friends when people are shooting at you. Allen hated the war, hated combat, but he did it because he was drafted into it and he turned out to be good at it.

If only the rebels would give up and surrender. The Government was not that bad, they kept order and they were only looking out for the good of the people. It was not like it really mattered. Life was good before the protests, before the break-ins, before the riots. The stupid Rebs thought they could change the government, change the world.

And I’m going to die if I keep thinking about that He refocused his attention to the task at hand, to move down the tree line until the next ambush. They could not have had one patrol making all of the attacks. That would just be suicidal. That Reb LT was young, but he looked to have some common sense about him, at least until the 5.56mm rounds form Allen’s rifle sent him to meet whatever God he believed in.
The heat was almost unbearable, Allen missed his New England home, even in the heat of summer it was never this bad and it was only June. The bugs were also a problem. The still air was not helping because a breeze would have been nice and maybe carried the smells of the enemy lurking about. The noise he and his squad made was minimal. They did not have to carry their packs, which were tucked inside of their APC. Traveling light meant they didn’t have extra gear on them to make noise and they would not tire out as quickly. The city was a mere twenty miles away but the ambushes would make the normally forty minute drive take more than two hours. They could just drive right through to it, but the major didn’t want to leave a single Reb able to fight. It was costing time, something that worked for the rebels and not Allen’s unit.

The city was going to be a problem for them. So far all of the fighting they had to do had been in the country side and that had been easy. It was straight up warfare, you and your guys on one side and the bad guys on the other. But this garrison duty was going to be different. They were told that most of the population was sympathetic to the enemy if not down right supportive of them. Urban combat was filled with many more dangers that fighting in the woods. There were thousands of places for snipers, traps and civilians all around to make sure that it wouldn’t be easy. At least they didn’t have any embeds in their squad. Allen smiled as he thought of them hold up in the tracks, with their electronics and creature comforts. The Government wants the reporters happy. Besides, Allen preferred to being out here, it was hot, his feet hurt and the bugs never stopped, the enemy could be behind any tree but at least he would not be trapped in a steel coffin waiting for a hit from a rocket.

Allen’s mind was yanked out of the day dreaming by John holding up his hand and the entire squad quietly sought cover. Allen moved up stealthily. “What is it” he whispered. John pointed through the trees. The forest thinned out and in the clearing next to the road stood a small gas station. The tracks would be approaching soon and the major would want this checked out. “Damn.” He cursed “John you and Greg go around the back, Jonsey and I will go around the front, Eddie, you cover us with the SAW” This could be nothing, or it could be the start of hell on earth for the five of them.

The Ambush

The twenty-four year old lieutenant carefully lowered his binoculars and barely turned his head to the left to where his sergeant was waiting behind the fallen tree. The sun beat down on them as the sergeant raised an eyebrow causing several beads of sweat to run down his forehead. The Lieutenant turned back to look at the road some 50 yards away where the column of tracked vehicles lazily moved under his gaze, he was waiting for the perfect time, but there never seemed to be one.

The enemy commander had still not deployed any of his infantry. It was a mistake to let them all ride in the armored personnel carriers, one that the, men would pay for, yet again, with their blood. The lieutenant held up two fingers to the sergeant indicating which target he wanted hit with the antitank weapon. The Sergeant looked down the line alerting the others to get ready.

O.K. the LT thought. Hit them with two rockets, then fall back. The enemy Major would then have the armor and infantry deploy. The troops would move into the brush looking for their ambushers, by the time they got 25 feet into the woods the LT and his squad would be in position to fire the mines and kill them. It would work, he knew because it had worked three times yesterday and it had worked once already today. The LT brought his rifle up to bear and looked for targets, there were none, no heads sticking up from a hatch, at least they had learned that lesson, and it only took six or so men to die to learn it.

The Sergeant sighted in on the vehicle and aimed at track. Hitting that will destroy its ability to move and take a few hours to repair. He knew the LT would prefer to score a hull hit, but there would be no guarantee that it would be effective. It could knock a hole in the side killing those inside or it could hit the ammo causing the tank to be destroyed but most likely it would leave the paint scorched and scare the troopers inside. Targeting the treads was a more effective strategy to slow them down. When the desired location appeared in the sights, he gently squeezed the trigger mechanism, whish was in reality more of a button. The tube on his shoulder roared to life, as soon as the rocket cleared him, he dropped and rolled to the left, pushing up and running back, he noticed the LT in a full run beside him as they darted around the trees and smaller brush. The explosion was never as loud and impressive as they remembered from the movies of their youth. It sounded almost hollow, the trees started to snap and pop as bullets were blindly fired into the area where the rocket had come from.

It was always a rush, the adrenaline pumping, the prospect that the air they were forcing into their lungs my be the last ever tasted, that the pain that they felt in their legs from forcing them to move faster than they ever had before in a vain attempt to outrun death himself, the panic that sat their in the backs of their minds demanding them to run away and not stop running, all worked to make them aware of each and every thing that was happening to them. The two men reached the ambush site and ran through it to the small berm on the other side.

Falling down on the other side, they looked at each other. “Once again” the Lieutenant said, grinning while the sergeant looked at him like he was crazy. The sergeant handed off the rocket launcher and unslung his rifle. Inching back up he peered over the top of the pile of dirt. “Here they come” he whispered as the other men in the squad got ready. The private to his left picked up the command detonation device and held it ready to hit it three times when the enemy soldiers got into the kill zone.

The LT forced himself to slow his breathing down, gulping air and wheezing would not be good for his health for the next two minutes. He looked at his group, proud that they were able to do this, time and again, keeping the enemy on edge, destroying their moral. He was proud that they had only lost one man in two weeks. This was not an easy job but they were doing it and doing it well. He felt a sting then several more on his back and realized he must have landed in an ant bed again. It was the only mistake he had made in several days. It was his job to protect his men from mistakes, to exploit the mistakes of the other guy.

The LT realized, all of a sudden that something was wrong the infantry was being much more careful this time, they were moving slow, that was to be expected, but they were moving too slow and being too noisy about it. He whipped his head around to the sergeant and could instantly tell he knew too. His brain was racing, with hundreds of possibilities, none of them good. The Lieutenant decided to give the order to fall back. As he opened his mouth the sergeant’s head exploded into a pink, grey and red mist. He could only watch in horror and more bullets ripped into the lifeless corps of his sergeant. He looked left and saw the private with the detonator jerk with the impact of several rounds; beyond him other kids were also being chewed to bits.

Somewhere in the back of his mind his body was telling him something, something important. He fell over wondering what pushed him down. The nagging in his brain drew his attention to his legs, they hurt, bad. His stomach burned as new pain originated and shot outward. He tried to move his hands but couldn’t. The Lieutenant gasped, gulping in air and tasting blood in his mouth. The pain was terrible from all over his body and just when he thought he could not stand it anymore he noticed how blue the sky was. It was a rich blue with just traces of white clouds, the sounds of automatic fire stopped and he heard nothing for a second it was peaceful, and the pain seemed to be gone.

He heard twigs breaking and leaves crunching. At the edge of his vision he saw the blued barrel of an assault rifle turning towards him, his heart raced, he coughed, blood spraying from his mouth. The Lieutenant wanted to say something, to ask them how they had ambushed him, why they were going to kill him now that he was wounded. Panic filled him, as he tried to move but his broken body failed him, much the same was as he felt he had failed his men.

Lowering his rifle the trooper, reached for his microphone to call in and let the major know that his plan worked perfectly.