“There are risks and costs to action. But they are far less than the long range risks of comfortable inaction.”
-John F. Kennedy
They kept the lead chopper in their sights, hoping to catch some sign of the thing if and when it went up. At the same time, they monitored it for any sign of sudden movement. As they all knew, there was a good chance they would see Whitman and the fire team moving before they could take shot, and kill them horribly.
He looked down the street to the burning pyre where Viper One Three’s vehicle was sitting. It’s launcher as looking skyward, idle and unmanned. Third squad had already emerged from their cover behind another abandoned building, and were making their way towards it little by little. At the moment, the smoke and flames were keeping them concealed from the chopper pilots’ eyes and IR sensors, but the moment they got to the vehicle, that would change.
It was an unfortunate part of their plan that as the third element in this plan, all they could do was wait for things to happen. There wasn’t much they could do. If they tried to open up with their meager 203′s, they’d reveal the entire platoon and most likely die in the process. Still, waiting sucked ball…
Next to her, she could hear Braun muttering to himself. “C’mon… c’mon…”
In her head, she was doing the same. Too many of her squad had died today, and far too many members of their platoon. Nothing could go wrong here.
Whitman’s voice sounded over their comms and she nearly jumped. They were in position, said his report, the chopper in their sights.
“Weapon’s free,” ordered the LT. Saunders took a deep breath and waited for the fireworks. No matter how things went in the next few seconds, they could be sure it would be explosive.
She heard a loud click from behind her, then the sudden discharge of flame and compressed air. A loud shriek followed, and then a bright flash and a thunderclap. She looked away for a second, and then looked back to see a fiery object spinning in the air.
The rocket had landed, though slightly rear of the chopper’s main fuselage. The tail section was now a flaming wreck, the rotor and tail fin blown clean off. She caught a quick glimpse of the pilot and gunner struggling with their controls as they began to spin uncontrollably.
“Take cover!” Braun yelled.
The chopper spun out and landed in the middle of the street. Saunders and the others barely had to time to hit the ground, and she took Gorman down with her. He had been behind them and had been the last to react, and he got the side of her rifle in the face because of it. But aside from his wounded pride and some lacerations from some added peppering of glass, neither he nor they were wounded too bad.
Braun looked up and spotted her and Grayson next to him. Together, they could hear the sound of rattling and popping outside. Both the chopper and third squad were firing on each other, and there was no telling who was striking true.
“On your feet, soldiers! Third squad is engaged!”
Those who could obliged, followed shortly thereafter by those who were nursing wounds or winded from the blast. Saunders became momentarily unaware of exactly who that was, as the pounding of her boots and her heart deafened her to everything else. And the only thing in her visual field which registered at the moment was the sudden burst of light as she jumped out of the storefront and into the open.
That’s when everything slowed down. The light took her, the sights and sounds moving so slowly that it seemed like everything was happening underwater. She could hear the telltale wup wup wup of the rotors coming from above, followed quickly by the loud brack, brack of the Apache’s gun. She looked to her right and saw Third’s squad vehicle, the man on top hanging limply in place with his arms dangling at his sides. Several large holes surrounded him, his blood pooling in them and dripped down into the cabin.
She looked left, and did not see the chopper above. It’s rotors and gun were chewing up the air, but not at the intended target. And behind her, many bodies were moving up to join her.
Things began moving normally again when Braun began yelling to all assembled. He looked to Third’s Humvee and in the direction the noise was coming from and drew the proper conclusion.
“Shit! We were too slow! Fuckers doubled back and has our fire team lined up!”
Saunders looked in horror back into the store where Whitman and his comrades had been moments before. Their rocket had taken down the one chopper, but now they had the other one on top of them. She couldn’t see it from where they stood, but she heard it all the same. Through the door in the back, she saw debris flying as well.
“They’ll be cut up in that alley!” Braun yelled next. His hands became a blur as he ordered their platoon about. “Saunders, your with Grayson and Gorman. Second, move around that back end of the building and pull those men out!”
“Sir,” said Tate, “where are you going?”
“Round front. Gonna give him something else to shoot at!”
Tate looked hesitantly at Braun, but nodded and obeyed all the same. Grabbing his squad, he began to run around the south side of the building, hugging the wall. With them gone, he turned to Saunders and Grayson, anticipating what they would say.
“Move around the front end and distract that sonofabitch with your two-oh-threes. I’ll guide third into position to help cover you!”
He ran off behind them, waving his own arms at Third and the driver of the Humvee. Saunders kept watching him, longer she was supposed to given that Grayson had to get in her face.
“You heard the Lieutenant, Sergeant! Move your fucking ass!”
She threw up her SCAR and followed the other two as they rounded the building in search of the rotors. She looked back just one more time, to see Braun with his back still turned, his arms still waving and directing the Humvee. She became angry with herself, lingering to watch him when some of her own were trapped on the other side of the building. If they weren’t already dead, they soon would be if she didn’t get her ass in gear and get on that marauding chopper.
She slammed her boots into the concrete and pushed forward, almost barreling through Gorman and Grayson in the process. When they rounded the corner, they spotted the Apache, hovering low and loud in place just a few dozens meters above them. Its nose was pointed towards the alley behind the store, which put it almost exactly nose to nose with them.
“Hold!” yelled Grayson. Saunders and Gorman nearly fell over as they dug in their feet and skidded against the hard ground. The firing stopped, and the gun began to move…
Saunders didn’t hear what Grayson said next. Her hearing once again became selective as the sound of her weapon popping was all that registered. The airburst shell went off, clumsily aimed, but still pointed in the Apache’s general direction. Then a number of sounds blared out at once, all of them competing to overwhelm her.
There was the sound of renewed gunfire, a loud bang, and the sound of Grayson’s voice in her ear as he grabbed hold of her and pulled her backwards.
“Get down!” She was yanked by her collar and fell to the ground, landing next to Gorman. The wall erupted in a hail of shattered brick and mortar, and Grayson hollared as he dove in front of them and hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind out of him. He rolled over and his face was bloody, but he was still breathing. Saunders tried to get to him, but the explosions continued, sending her back to the relative protection of the wall.
“Stay back!” Grayson could be heard yelling as well.
She felt a shard of something solid solid hit her face and she drew her hands to her face. Amidst the noise, she couldn’t even hear herself screaming, let alone those of Gorman. But what glimpses she caught of him told her he was also freaking out, his mouth fully open and his hands covering his eyes.
All that was replaced by a loud screech and some more thundering. She looked up to see Thirds Humvee stopping suddenly in the middle of the road and opening up with its gun. From the perch, he had the sun right behind him, but she could make out the general outline of Lieutenant Braun, manning the gun and throwing off empty case shells. One by one, the shells burst from the stubby launcher and sailed past them into the air.
Several loud thumps, and a loud crash followed. Several moments seemed to pass, followed by the sounds of loud cheering…
She learned forward and looked around the edge of the building. In a large tree, sitting by the side of the highway, the wreckage loomed and burned brightly. A single burning man forced the window of the cockpit open and then fell to the ground, where several dust plumes were kicked up and brought spouts of red from his chest. He fell back lay still. She heard the advance of bootsteps…
“Take that, you chickenhawk motherfucker!”
The hooting and hollering resumed. She could hear a familiar voice, and smiled.
“Hoo-ah dickhead! Not so tough when you’re sucking dirt, are ya?”
She strained to see a little farther around the corner. There, grabbing his crotch and giving the downed chopper pilots the bird, was Whitman, alive and well. Majorca and Francesco were there too, though the latter looked a little worse for wear.
With that in mind, she looked back at Grayson and went to his side. His face was oozing blood, but the damage appeared to be superficial. She snapped her fingers in front of his face a few times to see if he was still conscious too. He winced to indicate he was.
“Sergeant, you alright?”
“Just fine,” he said gruffly. “Get to my feet, Saunders, ‘less you feel like changing my diaper.”
She chuckled and grabbed a hold of his hand, hoisting him up. She checked over her shoulder to make sure Gorman was still breathing too. Aside from also needing to be changed, he seemed fine, at least physically.
“Guess that’s two I owe you, Grayson,” she said dryly. “Please don’t make this a habit.”
Even through the rips in his face, she thought she could discern a smile, though it might have been a grimace. It was hard to tell at the moment.
“Just don’t make it a habit of getting in trouble,” he replied. “We’ve lost enough people as it is.”
She ceased smiling and looked past him. To the Humvee, to the gunner’s perch where the LT was still sitting. His eyes were fixed on the burning wreck in the distance and he seemed to be drawing several deep breaths. Beneath him, the driver and passenger waited anxiously, looking for either orders or permission to hop out and enjoy the moment. He wasn’t giving them either.
“Yeah,” she said finally. “But we’re still alive. That has to count for something.”
