Created to destroy

A bullet came flying through the field we were going to fight on, it smacked effortlessly into a rock, making a small entry hole with cracks spreading a few inches from the point of impact. Argos used his hydraulics to jump about 25 feet into the air onto a nearby boulder, then angled his tail launcher and sent a red canister towards the large platoon of enemy forces. With another “ping”, the area lit up in another burst of white fire, only burning about five squirters before eventually fading out.

“...Do I smell white phosphorus?” Specialist Jackson estimates.

I glared at him, while trying to avoid incoming bullets whizzing by my head. “What the f**k do you know about white phosphorus??”

Sergeant Dane picks up his weapons and fires in controlled bursts, while Argos is using his back-mounted machine gun while sitting in the hunter stance. I didn’t have time to get an answer, we had an enemy to deal with. Paul yells he was throwing a frag, as he rips off the pin and chucked the grenade overhead. In that time, Paul’s hand yanks back about twice as hard as he threw the grenade. Blood began spilling from his hand, I knew then he got tagged.

“F**K! IM HIT!!” Paul yells, ripping off his IFAK from his pack and retrieving the quikclot solution from inside. He tears it open with his teeth, then pours the contents onto his hand, where the blood was spilling. He was biting on his dog tags hard enough to bend them, and his eyes indicated the sense of abject misery and pain. Only a few seconds afterward, Pauls grenade goes off, sending bits and pieces of blood and body limbs flying backwards. It still seemed like there were more guys to replace them.

“YOU GOOD??” I yell, slightly worried.

Paul returns with a middle finger. I knew then he was okay. I chuckled a bit, then threw my red dot over the enemies who were advancing towards us. There was a column of at least 40 guys with five other fighters in heavy armor and big machine guns, relentlessly spraying everywhere, giving no thought as to what they might have been hitting.

“HEAVY INFANTRY, TWELVE O’CLOCK!!!” I inform the group.

All rifles move towards the hulking individuals, who were continually spraying their weapons. One guy was firing on Argos, who was taking bullets like he was a brick wall, while returning fire, but killing only a few guys from where he was standing. When the armored fighters stopped to reload, the man behind him moved to his place and started firing while he was reloading and moving to the back of the line, these guys are trained professionals.

“HEY! TAG THE GUYS IN FRONT AND LEAVE THE ARMOR TO ARGOS!!” Sergeant Dane screams.

I wonder why I didn’t think of that.

Paul draws his P226 and fires from cover, hitting one guy in a magazine of 15 rounds. I yanked on my trigger and sent multiple rounds in controlled bursts downrange, where guys died with headshots and center mass wounds. The armored infantry was all the way in the back, and the conventional infantry was getting slaughtered in the front. But, despite their losses, they still kept coming.

“Locksmith.” Argos calls.

“Kinda busy here!!” I reply, under intense fire of the heavy gunners who have now moved to the front. Three of the gunners now have weapons on Argos, and were firing. The other two were constantly chipping off the cover I was behind.

“Scans indicate the armor is made of kevlar, it will take a significant amount of concentrated fire to break through the armor.” Argos warns.

S**t.

“Yo! Locksmith! I’m gonna patch myself up real quick, and i’m gonna take the HVT and keep him covered up!” Paul yells to me.

“Gotcha, man! Take a Ranger with you in case he pulls a fast one!” I confirm.

Paul nods and pulls himself to his feet while holstering his pistol, trying not to use his injured hand, as he fights to equip his pack and carry his weapons. He moves quickly away from cover and grabs Greere’s attention, who also tries to get to his feet without using too much of his wounded leg, as he follows Paul to Baas, where he is taken behind some rocks, obstructing our field of view, as well as the enemy’s. I look away from the direction where Paul went and focused my fire on the rescue platoon in front of us.

“You guys know how to break through kevlar!?” I scream to the Rangers.

I heard no answer as more bullets continually smacked into rocks immediately to our left and right. I picked myself up and threw my red dot over the crowd, having no time to actually zero my shot, and threw out a few rounds in controlled bursts. I heard the continuous cracks from my SCAR tickle my ears until the final click was heard, which meant I had an empty magazine. I yanked my weapon back and shoved my entire body downward to prevent myself from getting shot, and pulled out the magazine to reinsert a new one. Reaching into my tactical vest, I unbutton the magazine pouch and pull out the last magazine I had left.

“Last mag!” I yelled.

I really f*****g wish I had more ammo. I slapped the mag in and loaded a round into the chamber, flicking my weapon to semi-automatic. I took a quick look to hopefully find any leads I could get to get the armored guys, and saw an opportunity at hand.

“SERGEANT DANE!” I yell.

He quickly retracts his M249 and pulls himself to cover, dodging bullets and moving from cover to cover with Specialist Jackson. “WHATCHA NEED!?” He yells in return.

“WHO IN YOUR TEAM HAS EXPLOSIVES!?” I tried sounding off over the gunfire only feet in front of us.

Sergeant Dane points to Specialist Jackson, who was on his radio trying to yell loud enough for the guy on the other end of the line to hear him right. He got Jackson’s attention and directed him to me, where he re-equipped his radio pack and moved quickly to my position, carrying his rifle by the handguard in his left hand and a sat phone in the other while Dane was covering his advance with a long burst of fire from his SAW. Bullets from the other side were splashing into the dirt and smacking into rocks that ran into Jackson’s path of movement, as he runs like a big clusterfuck trying to not get shot, his feet stomping the ground consistently in front of the other foot makes it look like he’s going to trip at some point. He gets near my position and slides like a baseball player making his way to home plate directly next to me.

“What the f**k were you doing on the sat phone?” I roar.

“Trying to radio in support, sir!” Jackson tries yelling back over the gunfire.

“F**k that s**t dude, there’s no support coming! We’re way too far from Bagram and any other Airbase in the region, and too deep into the mountain for any support to be effective, let alone arrive on time!”

Jackson stowed his sat phone in his vest, and tore off his radio pack, setting it to the ground next to me. He then took another pack that he was carrying underneath it, where he slammed it to the ground and unzipped it, only to pull out a weird looking box and a clacker.

“The f**k is that?” I wonder.

“Dane told me you needed explosives, sir.” Replied Jackson.

“Absolutely, let’s place ‘em up on the rocks, then tactically retreat to safety where we can blow the fuckers up.”

Jackson removes a thin piece of plastic that covers a sticky substance that is used to mount the charge onto things. Jackson notified that he needed two minutes to set up the charge to high-explosive. Sergeant Dane is busy over there keeping some kick hitting his shoulder as he yanks his trigger and fires in controlled bursts into the crowd, who then had the armored guys taking all the bullets. It seemed like even at a range of what seemed like 20 feet, there was no damage being done to the armor they were cloaked in. I heard his stream of bullets stop, as he stows his bipod and moved below cover to reload.

“Yo, i’m low on ammo!” Sergeant Dane exclaims.

“What about that big f*****g pack you’re carrying??” I yell back.

“That s***s full of DMR ammo, fast ropes and MREs!”

“DMR ammo? WHERE THE F**K IS THE DMR!?” I scream in anger.

“GREERE HAS IT IN HIS PACK!” Sergeant Dane screams in response.

I got on the troop net to get Pauls attention. “Tick, get Greeres DMR and bring it the f**k over here!”

“Roger that” he replies almost immediately.

“Argos, do you read?” I yell into the radio.

“Affirmative.” Argos replies instantly.

“I need you to concentrate your fire on the remaining squirters, not the armored guys. We’re gonna burn them up!”

“The current situation I am in suggests continued support is not advisable without suffering casualties.” Argos replies.

I felt a chill go down my spine. I looked over to Argos, who was taking cover behind a rock, quickly being chipped away from the enemy bullets, I knew then we were one step away from total obliteration.

“Sir, charges are set!” Jackson notifies.

I looked over to the charges and see that they were ready to blow. “Tick, forget the DMR, get ready to run!” I said over the radio.

“Good copy, ready to go!” He replies.

“ALRIGHT EVERYBODY, GET THE F**K BACK, CHARGES ARE HOT!!” I scream.

I looked back immediately to see Paul holding Baas by the neck and pushing him towards the rugged pathway behind us, and Greere limping badly trying to follow and keep up with him. Sergeant Dane used the last of his SAW ammo to keep the enemy suppressed, who have then completely dispersed in cover, with the armored guys still keeping the pressure on Argos, sitting in the way back.

Dane looks over to me after yanking himself back to cover. “ARE WE MOVING OR WHAT!?” He screams.

The enemy gunfire got a hell of a lot worse, as the rocks we were hiding behind were almost completely gone. I could see the tracer rounds streaking past us in directions that went every which way possible. The constant whizzing was then a sound I couldn’t get out of my head. The heavy cracks of gunfire were constant and sounded like a line of baseball players hitting a constant stream of baseballs with no end in sight.

I slap Jackson on the back a few times, “Yo, you got a smoke pop?”

“Yeah, I got one.” He replies.

“Throw smoke to cover our retreat, we’re getting the f**k out of here.”

Jackson quickly rips open his pouch and pulls out an M18 smoke pop, where he rips out the pin and tosses it towards the enemy, where the gunfire immediately stops. This was our chance.

“Popping smoke!” Jackson notifies the team.

I saw Argos look down upon the smoke grenade and ready himself to get out of there. Sergeant Dane put his SAW to his side and puts his strong foot forward, in preparation to sprint with all his strength. Jackson readies himself like an olympic sprinter, lowering his back so nobody shoots his pack and wrecks the s**t inside. I hold my hand to the rock behind me to launch off and get a fast start to the rugged path we were getting to. Once I heard the faint pop of the M18, and the smoke contents spreading to cover the entire area in a thick fog, I instantly launched myself to the path behind me. Sergeant Dane and Specialist Jackson were quickly catching up. I saw Argos take one huge leap from his cover point to the ground next to me, running to the rocks in front of us. He had no problem running in front of us to get to cover first. I heard the gunfire behind us start up again, as the bullets were going all over the place, smacking the ground and rocks in front of us with maximum force. I knew then to absolutely haul a*s, more than I already was. The run seemed to have lasted forever, but we finally made it to the rocks, jumping on top of, and leaping from, rocks to get to the next ones in line, leading up to the path that we were running for. I got to the end of the path to see Paul beating the s**t out of Baas, with a knife impaled in his leg, profusely bleeding.

“Tick, what the f**k are you doing!?” I yell.

Paul looks back at me, and he was clearly pissed off. He gets up and walk toward me, pointing back at Baas, who was laying on the ground in blood and pain. “That m**********r popped a round off into Greere and f*****g immobilized him.” He said with a demon inside his voice.

S**t.

“Command said to take the HVT alive, Tick.” I reminded.

“They didn’t say anything about doing him some pain if he gets one of ours.” He counters.

He has a point.

“Sergeant Dane, get to your kid and get some Antibiotics on the wound. Jackson, get the piece of s**t on his feet.”

“Yes sir” Jackson replied, grabbing Baas by the arm and forcing him up with the knife still in him.

I moved over to Greere, who was sitting on the ground, his back against a tree, holding his leg tightly, with small streams of blood coursing from his hands to the ground. Sergeant Dane grabbed my attention and whispered to me, “We need to get the round out of him first before we get any kind of medicine on the wound.”

“Do what you have to do.” I replied.

Dane quickly retrieved a pair of tweezers from his pack, and prepared them for extraction. I took a knee and hit him on the shoulder a couple times. “You good, bro?” I ask.

“F****n hurts.” Greere replied.

“Yeah, its gonna sting a bit. Hey, you did good today, though. Do you know if you can walk?”

“Tick said I shouldn’t be walking.” Greere remembered.

“That f****r isn’t a Corpsman, either.” I chuckled.

Greere giggled a little bit. He saw Sergeant Dane holding a pair of tweezers, and looked over to me with a look that said “f**k me.”

“Guess he has to get the bullet out, huh?” He started.

“Yeah, its gotta come out, sorry buddy.” I replied, gripping his hand. “You’ll be okay, though.”

I nodded at Dane, who took a knee and cut a larger hole into Greeres uniform to see the wound a little better. It wasn’t a big entry wound, and no exit wound. He must have a little .22 or something in him. Dane plucked the tweezers in the wound, trying to cause as little pain to Greere as possible. Greere gripped my hand with both of his, with all of the strength he had in his arms. He was groaning hard in pain, as he gritted his teeth hard enough to seemingly crack them. Dane notifies that he feels the bullet, as he takes hold of the round with the tweezers in Greeres leg. At this point, Greere was about ready to yell, as he begins twisting and turning uncontrollably from the pain he felt. After about 20 seconds, Greere stopped shaking around, and his grunts and groans were silenced. I look to Dane, who was holding a little 9mm round, thankful it wasn’t some big .45 ACP. He immediately chucked the round elsewhere and got a good layer of antibiotic ointment on the wound, where he was then patched up with a large medical bandage.

“You’re done dude, you did good. Can you walk?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll try. I need help getting up.” Greere estimated.

I got up and held my hand out to Greere, who took it instantly as I pulled him up to his feet, careful he didn’t fall. He took one step forward, which was a solid step, his legs held in. Holding my position close to Greere, I monitored his movement as he took a second step on his injured leg. As soon as the injured leg hit the ground, he began falling instantly, unable to move any further than what he tried. I caught his fall quickly, and carefully set him back down on the tree he was leaning against. No way he was gonna be able to walk without support. I looked around to see the other guys look at Greere in pity and sorrow. Jackson was holding Baas by the neck, a pistol pointed to his head, Dane sat still in front of his pack, paused in his process of putting his medical stuff away, and Paul took a knee and kept his eyes on both Greere and Baas. Argos stood still, sitting like a regular dog, keeping his eyes on Greere. We sat in silence, trying to figure out what to do next. I knew Greere and the others needed rest, and the sun was just getting ready to set.

“We need to find a place to rest. No way we can keep going in the shape we’re in right now.” I advise. “I need a map of the area.”

Argos projected a holographic map of the area and its terrain, painted softly in blue grid lines and red spots of enemy activity. I took a knee and sifted through the terrain layout, where there was a small series of rocks standing in front of a bigger one, which had a hole in it. The cave didn’t look very big, nor was it deep, but it will have to do.

I checked my compass in the direction of the cave, then alerted the team. “We move north. There’s a small cave we can move into about forty-five yards from here. Wounded go in first, two guys on guard duty, MREs to everyone. Two hour sleep rotations to those good enough to walk, talk, and shoot.”

Everyone looked tired beyond that of notable measure, it was seriously time to catch some shuteye. I look over toward Greere, who was grieving, but didn’t groan, Just panted. It was obvious the pain was gonna stick around for a while, poor b*****d.

“You still got that DMR?” I ask.

“Yeah, its in my pack, back pocket. Ammo is with Dane. Its an MK12 SPR.”

I take Greeres pack off him and sort through each pocket, pulling out the MK12 with the utmost care. The rifle was folded up to fit inside the backpack, and the scope was a small ACOG looking optic that had a variable zoom knob at its top and sides. There was a small IR laser sight attached to the Rail Interface System, as well as a bipod on the front part of the bottom rail, and a potato grip closer to the magazine well. I ensured the magazine was in, a round was in the chamber, and the weapon was on safety, and slung it across my shoulder. I held my hand out to Greere, who took it and slowly got up to his feet while I supported him, keeping him from falling.

“Tick, I need you to carry Greere to the cave. Jackson, follow behind with...him.” I say, giving a sour look to Baas. “Dane, you and I will provide cover. Use your handgun if you don’t have any more SAW ammo, and Argos, move ahead of us and secure the area.”

“Of course.” Argos replies, zipping past us to the caves ahead.

“Roger that.” Sergeant Dane replies, equipping his M9 and shouldering his SAW.

Paul carefully takes Greere and throws him to his shoulders, doing a fireman’s carry. He began walking North of our position, with Jackson and Baas following soon after. I readied the MK12 and held it carefully to my front, ensuring that it remained on safety and pointed to the ground. Dane took his handgun and pointed it to the ground as well, moving to catch up with the others.

“Its f-f-f*****g cold...dude.” Greere stuttered.

“Hey, buddy, try not to talk too much. We’ll be there soon.” Paul assured.

But Greere was right, the air around us was getting colder as the moon began to rise in place of the sun. I could see my breath. I could hear the trees softly whisper with the wind, it’s as if there was nobody else on this mountain but us. moving forward to the cave, our boots were a little louder, crunching the soft rock and twigs beneath us. It was literally the only thing that could possibly give our position away, but nothing was happening. None of Baas’s guys were after us, nobody was shooting at us, nobody did anything. It was just us walking through the cold and frigid mountain woods. I could feel my legs starting to give out, giving a quiet shriek of pain with each step we took. I saw Dane starting to give out, too. He was fucked up. He fell to the ground about ten minutes into the march. I rushed to get him back on his feet, assuring him that we were nearing the cave. Dane was successful in stumbling back to his feet, as he basically limped the rest of the way, with his M9 still in his hands, pointed to the ground. We got to the rocks that we marched to, and look at the massive boulders that towered before us. Argos walked from the cave entrance, ensuring the area was clear of any enemy activity within 50-100 yards. Nobody was f*****g with us tonight.

“Greere moves in first.” I remind.

Paul slowly brings Greere to his feet, swinging his arm around his shoulder and supporting his movement to the cave entrance. Paul carefully set Greere down in the back of the cave, which extended to about 20 feet or so. With Greere settled in, Paul walks out and stands guard in front of the cave entrance.

“Jackson, you’re next. I’ll take the HVT.” I order.

Jackson didn’t think twice. He handed over Baas, as I continually held my sights on his head. Jackson moved in and sat in front of Greere, trying to stay awake. Sergeant Dane moved in after Jackson, sitting against a wall adjacent to Jackson.

“Tick, you in?” I ask.

“Yeah, i’m in.” He nearly whispers.

Paul nearly limps his way to the cave, setting himself next to Dane. I finally move in with Baas, and place him next to me, closer to the exit. Argos moved in after I did, using his carbon fiber tail to move another boulder in the way of the cave entrance to close it off from anyone else. He then sat like a normal dog next to Paul. Dane compiled a bunch of leftover rocks and some twigs that had somehow found their way into the cave earlier in time. He used his flint and steel to ignite a small fire, to keep us all warm for the night.

“You know what, f**k guard duty, everyone get some chow and shuteye.” I advise.

Sergeant Dane opens his pack and removes a box containing MREs, where he evenly distributed among the six of us, not including Argos, obviously because he cant eat period. We all ripped open our MRE packs and scarfed the contents. We all fell asleep immediately afterward, with full stomachs and injured men and HVT. I followed quickly behind, ensuring that Baas was asleep as well, and the knife was out of his leg, setting it on Pauls leg. I closed my eyes, and imagined a beach with clear, blue water, and seagulls diving for some chow. I fell asleep along with the others only minutes afterward.

Author's Note

Getting very close to the end! Make sure to leave some reviews if you feel the need to! All are appreciated!