Mounted Patrol - HMMWVs

Time: 1730 Local Time
Date: June 16th, 2011

Second Lieutenant Michael Garber approached the hummvees that had been lined up in a column formation (one behind the other) and examined them closely. The Marines of Second Platoon had quickly mustered and gathered their gear. All of them were ready for combat, their weapons in hand. The SAW Operators looked especially excited, as they would have the chance to mount the machine guns and Mark 19's that rested atop the vehicles.

Michael let the Staff Sergeant do a quick inspection of the Marines before they rushed towards their vehicles. Michael hopped in the passenger seat of the 14th Fireteam's Hummvee. As soon as everyone had boarded their vehicles and the column was ready to roll, he hopped on the radio and ordered "all Badger Six Victors, proceed. We are Oscar Mike, over."

13th Fireteam's hummvee, which held Staff Sergeant Hobbar, began to move out and down a dirt road. Their mission was to do a patrol in a village about half a klick from the base. Rebel activity had been reported in the area and they were being sent in to confirm it. Rules of Engagement had been laid out simply as Return Fire Only.

Resting his M16A4 across his lap, he laid back in his seat and kept his eyes peeled as the jungle passed them on either side. He had been briefed that the Righteous Fist could have possibly placed IEDs on the road and, once they were clear of the jungle and nearing the village, they should either dismount or drive off road to avoid getting ambushed by one of those. It was also likely the Righteous Fist would have recon units in place to quickly alert any of their forces of the approaching Marines. Perhaps they would test out their reaction time first hand today.

Truthfully, the lieutenant was nervous. This was his first time leading Marines in the field and now lives were truly at stake. One wrong move could be the end of all their lives. He had to remain vigilant and locked on if he wanted them to come out of this alive. He also had to be able to react quickly to whatever happened.

Hopefully though they would avoid combat. He wanted their first patrol to go smoothly and uneventful. He hoped he'd be getting what he asked for.

William had been ready and geared up for the patrol. He had also made sure that his Fire-Team was also ready. He didn't want anyone leaving behind something they'd need, or maybe forget to give a letter to someone, or whatever it was any of this team needed to get done. Once they had finished with all that shit, William made his way to where the other Marines had formed up. He joined them all and stood at attention and listened to everything his Lt had to say. So far nothing to much, and nothing bad. He then watched as his Lt left to go enter 14th's transport. William sighed in relief. He was glad it wasn't his, or Patterson's. He knew it was either going to be him or Patterson to say something stupid. Just the thought made him laugh a little, and then he watched as the Staff Sergeant inspected the teams before the moved on and entered the Hummvee's they were assighned to.

After looking around to see the faces of the other Marine's he could tell most were so excited to get the chance to use the big guns. William really didn't much care about them. Another thing was his hate for the Hummvee. It was a piece of crap that they shouldn't have used, or spent money on. It wasn't at all to protective, and have the time you had to add the shit you needed. In Iraq the Hummvee he was assigned to had to be customized with better armor, and more tech. Sadly though that was left behind, along with a good bit of his joy. He'd rather have that hummvee than the one he had now. The thing wouldn't stand a chance in some of the combat situations. But he was going to have to rely on the thing to save his life. Even though he knew the chances were slim.

William wasn't to happy to learn that the Staff Sergeant had been assigned to their hummvee. It ment he'd have to cut out most of his jokes, and some of his language. He wasn't going to enjoy that at all. Now it looked like it was a good idea for him to pack that book along with him. William sighed and shook his head. He was somewhat happy he didn't get to sit in the front yet somewhat pissed at the same time, but he just shook that off. William then turned over to Booke. "Booke your the driver, Wolfe your on the gun, and Washington you and me are in the back. Lets go Marines." William ordered as he waved them over towards the Hummvee. Once there he entered the right hand side back seat and made himself comfortable. He also made sure to put on his red with black flames scarf around his neck. It was quite thin and wouldn't over heat him. William then layed a bit back and made sure his weapon was ready to be fired upon the enemy if shit hit the fan.

Spirits were high as the Marines headed out to the Humvee's. Walker followed behind his squad, led by Staff Sergeant Hobbar, doing a quick headcheck whilst patting over his uniform, ensuring he had all of his "toys".

The squad split over three vehicles; Thirteenth with Hobbar in the lead vehicle, Fourteenth with the Lt in the middle vehicle, and Fifteenth with Walker taking the rear. This suited Walker fine, he wanted the chance to lead, but he wasn't over the moon about having the Staff Sergeant shadowing him, or babysitting a rookie officer on his first experience as squad leader.

As they approached the leader, Walker comically called "Shotgun," whilst sticking a thumb on his forehead; claiming the front passenger seat. He climbed in, on to the threadbare seat and tried to make himself comfortable. "Deschanps, drive, O'Brian, roof, you to, in the backseat but I don't want you Christening it, Okay?" Homosexual jokes - the Corps was built on them.

He sat the barrel of his M16 on the window, and reached for the radio, "They haven't got the fucking iPod docks I requested..." he muttered, as he flicked it on and checked the frequency. "Badger Six, Badger Six-three, solid copy, over."

OOC: Bit unsure on your Yankee RATEL, and on Callsigns. Can I have some clarification?

OOC: Bit unsure on your Yankee RATEL, and on Callsigns. Can I have some clarification?

we're riding in: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M1151

regarding callsigns, https://dowmc.darkbb.com/technical-publications-f3/radio-communications-protocol-t13.htm

OOC: I believe he meant he wanted to know the callsigns assigned to us for the mission. I'd also like to know our callsigns, but something tells me it's Badger 6-1, Badger 6-2 and Badger 6-3 for 13th, 14th and 15th respectively (actuals too).

IC: Kennedy looked at his Humvee with little expectation. Sure it was a fucking Humvee and all, but he knew how easy it was to break one (not entirely destroy, but immobilize), and the ones in Iraq were specially modified because of constant ambushes on Humvee convoys. Kennedy smirked. At least we're getting a ride he thought to himself. He took a look at his fireteam, and thought for a brief moment.

"Alright 14th, listen up," he spoke up after a bit, "BJ (ALSO OCC: Mind if I call him that? If not I'll change it, but keep in mind I plan to use this as a running joke that Kennedy has a hard time pronouncing his name), you're gunner, have fun but remember to only return fire. Cantrell and [NAME CURRENTLY UNKNOWN], grab seats in the back. I don't care who wants which side, just play nice." He mentally chuckled. Homosexual jokes never got old. "I'll drive this thing. Mount up boys." Kennedy slipped into the driver's seat and shut the door with (seemingly) care for the vehicle. The lieutenant popped into existence right next to him in the passenger seat.

Kennedy tried not to look at him so much, after all he was taught in Driver's Ed to watch the road. He gave the LT a short glance of intrigue, then watched the Humvee in front of them. The LT radioed out that the squad was Oscar-Mike, and 13th's Humvee began to drive off. Kennedy shifted his Humvee into gear, and waited for a reasonable distance (two or three Humvee's distance) before accelerating to the speed of 13th's vehicle. He scanned the area shortly, making sure to maintain focus on the road and not hit a passing kid or something (depending on how interested the children were in cars). That was the least of Kennedy's worries, considering there were guys with guns that were trying to kill him.

Don't get so worried Kennedy continually reminded himself, it's just a patrol, barely anything bad happens on the first patrol. Of course he knew he was dead wrong, but at least it was an attempt to keep from being over worried about things. He remembered patrols in 'Iraqistan,' and how often IEDs were. It's to the point that Kennedy almost sure that an IED will take his life one day, maybe even back home. In his house. Terrorists have strange quotas. But these guys aren't really militants, but rather an organized rebellion with uniforms and all.

"Stay frost guys, this is hollowed ground," he warned his fireteam, cautiously following 13th's Humvee.

"Booke your the driver, Wolfe your on the gun, and Washington you and me are in the back. Lets go Marines."

"Aye-Corporal." Adam said responding to the command. He did secretly want to drive, it's one of the things he liked. Ever since he was in high school he'd nag his parents to let him take his drivers ed courses to hurry up and get his license. He hated having to rely on others to ferry him around.

Adam opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat in the HMMWV. He got himself comfortable got ready to roll out.

"all Badger Six Victors, proceed. We are Oscar Mike, over."

With that, Adam pressed the gas and the HMMWV took off. There wasn't any dust and Adam was glad for that. The road was pretty solid and the vehicles moved quickly together.

Code:

ooc. I'm guessin its a paved road? Since we are patorling into a city

"Can we get some music going on?" Adam said. He turned to look around the cabin, "It's a bit boring in here don't you think? Some frickin tunes would be fucking amazing!" Adam chuckled, "I like Gaga."

Sitting silently nearby was Garreth Morgan - in the 14th Fireteam's Humvee. The man sighed softly, polishing the knife that he held so dear - it had saved his life at one point... He smirked, and returned the newly-cleaned blade to it's holster that was attached to his left calf. Chatter was going in one ear, and out the other - not that he was avoinding it. He just didn't care, at the moment.

Apparently, he'd been given control of a fire-team, or something - he wasn't sure, nor did it matter to him yet. He just wanted to kill the bastards, and make sure that his country of birth was kept isolated. He sighed, and looked out the window of the Humvee, focussing on anything that was necessary. He could pick out a moving target, far easier than most of these bastards.

"Come on, don't come to visit us. We need this patrol to go nice and smooth-like... He whispered softly to himself, and kept a vigilant watch of the window. What was going...

A sudden jolt of the Humvee startled him slightly, and he looked over at the guy next to him... Cantrell, was it? He wasn't too sure. "BJ", as Kennedy called him was on the gun. Damn... why had he gotten such a shock from a simple jolt of the Humvee? He sighed, and looked back out the window again.

No need for anything to happen, not just yet. It's just a patrol.

Cantrell's mind wandered back to his days in Afghanistan, and all the practical jokes that were played there. For instance, whenever he took point on a night patrol he would sometimes pretend to climb over imaginary obstacles just to see what the guy behind him would do. Also, if the Marines in Afghan wanted to get anywhere, they went by foot. It never ceased to amaze him how well the Afghan soldiers moved on the mountainous terrain though.

Cantrell snapped back to reality when the Humvee started moving and took a look around. He preferred being in the back seat opposed to being in the front. More room to move around and less likely to be shot first in a head on attack. But he'd much rather ride in a chopper or a ship than a Humvee. Cantrell took a look at his M14 that was laying between the door and his leg. He loved that weapon, and it was just so much more fun than the M16s and M4s everyone else had. Cantrell scratched his head for a moment looked over at the Marine sitting next to him.

"What you looking at?" Cantrell asked in the lazy, slow Tennesseean manner that he was used to.

((OOC: The Signals List is as follows.

Lieutenant Garber - Badger Six Actual
Staff Sergeant Hobbar - Badger Five Actual
HM3 Anderson - Badger Four
Private Heinlein - Badger Three
Sergeant Walker - Badger One-Five
Corporal Siegfried - Badger One-One
Corporal Morgan - Badger One-Two
Corporal Patterson - Badger One-Three

All other personnel are referred to by their nicknames (or a given alternate callsign) over the radio. Normally you don't want to broadcast rank or name over the communications in case they're bugged. If the enemy know who to shoot you're in trouble.))

OOC: I'll control my FT, seeing as they're MIA.

Third in the convoy, Walker's HumVee rolled off, keeping a distance behind the other two, so if an IED hit either of them, there was enough distance to avoid the blast. The vehicle was quiet, and quite soon Walker found himself slapping a beat on his M16 with his fingers. Pretty soon, he was singing softly to himself, slowly getting louder, encouraging the rest of the fireteam to join in.

"It's no fun but I've been here before
I'm far from home and I'm fighting your war.
Not the way I pictured this, I wanted better things
Some are scared others killing for fun, I shot a mother right in front of her son.
Take this from my consciousness, and please erase my dreams"

The beat was getting more complex now, his feet thumping the ground of the HMMWV, and he had to ensure his hand was not tempted to slap the radio as he looked out the window. His voice came to full volume now, as the rest of the fireteam joined in, shouting along with him, the Brazilian canopy a blur outside their vehicle. It wasn't the prettiest of songs, but it caught the war. The soldiers, Marines, getting caught up, doing crazy things that were just not acceptable to the public eye, but, fuck it, they were doing it anyway.

"Fight for honor, fight for your life
Pray to God that our side is right.
Even though we won, I still may lose
Until I make it home to you
I see our mothers filled with tears,
grew up so fast where did those years go?
Memories won't let you cry,
unless I don't return tonight
"

OOC:
Fitting song, methinks

The HMMWVs rolled reletively quietly down the stretch of road towards the target village. Michael looked out of the window. He saw villagers, mostly women and children walking. Further investigation revealed they were headed towards a small stream. Michael thought to himself, were they going out to play? Or were they trying to get out of dodge?

Michael immediately got on the radio, "This is Badger-Five-Actual, All Badger-Six-Victors, eyes up, women and children at my two o'clock."

"Roger that Five-Actual." Lieutenant Garber responded over the net.

"Be advised Six-Actual, eyes on target, break," Michael took a breath, "Do you want to dismount?"

"Your call Five-Actual."

"Affirmative. Over and Out" Michael replied. Michael signaled his driver, Lance Corporal Booke, to pull over by the edge of the road. "Aite guys," Michael said, "Dismount and fan out, 13th set up a perimeter, 50, stay on the gun." As soon as the rest of the vehicles arrived and dismounted, Michael ordered the same thing, "Alright guys, 13th and 14th lets move out, 15th stay here and watch the humvees."

For a second Michael forgot about the Scout Sniper team that was just assigned to them, "Oh yeah," Michael said, "Almost forgot, You two," Michael pointed at the pair of scout snipers that were standing there readying themselves and getting their gear out of the trucks. "Find a hill or something to provide overwatch."

The Marines made their way into the village to search for any suspicious activity.

As the HMMWV pulled to a halt, Walker climbed out, M16 sat in his hands, ready to be swung up to target. He moved around to Staff Sergeant Hobbar, eyes swinging from side to side behind his sunglasses. "Remember," called Walker, "Be friendly to the civvies. That whole fucking hearts and minds thing."

As Hobbar gave the command to move out, Walker went with the squad, leaving 15th for security. He was squad leader - he should be with the majority of the squad. He quickly began organising his squad as they moved. "Lance-Corporal Booke, I want you on point. Line formation, keep your spacings. Don't give these fuckers a chance to take you out, boys."

He fell in between the two fireteams, his thumb flicking the safety catch through it's settings, safe, semi- and burst, before bringing it back down, repeating as he moved. It was a bad habit of his, but it was something that kept him sane.

The convoy stopped on the side of the road. The Marines began piling out and geting into a rough formation on the road.

"Lance-Corporal Booke, I want you on point. Line formation, keep your spacings. Don't give these fuckers a chance to take you out, boys."

"Yes Sergeant." Adam responded, he was nervous as it was his first combat operation...real combat operation. He figured if he only stayed in for one hitch, he'd get in, get his service and be able to say he did something with his life without actually doing anything. Adam just shrugged his shoulders and turned and walked towards the village. He'd pimped out his M16, painted it to better camo the weapon. He liked it, made him feel more...elite.

Some children ran past the Marines, they didn't really have any facial expressions, closely following them were what Adam guessed where their mothers. They walked carefully and quietly, making eye contact with the Marine. Adam was a bit scared; what did that mean? A warning? Curious? What?

Adam tried to push the thoughts out of his head, he raised his weapon cautiously and continued walking. By now the Marines were just entering the village. Adam looked back at his fireteam, squad and platoon leader seeing what they would tell him to do.

As the Humvee that he was in pulled to a standstill, Garreth sighed, and climbed out of the vehicle, his FT following behind him, or so he hoped. He'd heard that their orders were to secure the area, but it seemed to him that they were being changed on the fly. He sighed, and slung his Grenadier M4 over his shoulder, safety on, of course. Looking around the area that they stood, he followed the Staff Sergeant along with the rest of his fireteam, trying his best to look presentable for the civilians - people who seemed to be both scared and reverent of their prescence. Garreth smiled briefly, before turning back to his men.

"Alright boys, let's move it. Jorgensen, Kennedy, Cantrell, let's take the lead from One-Five. Line formation, you know the drill. Jorgensen, up front." He sighed as the four of them entered formation, and followed the lead of the 13th, and their higher-ups. He smiled to himself, as they looked around at the civilians. Garreth was really no good at this thing....

Cantrell looked around as he walked in the formation and thought back to Afghanistan. The brass were always talking about the need to win in the "humanitarian field" as well as in the "geographical field". It was a very complex matter, the humanitarian field, and it was nearly impossible to predict very far out. Now, the US Military could come and gun down everything that moved in these villages, but that would guaruntee them getting kicked out of the country by the civilians. But then again, these "villagers" could be secretly helping the enemy, and kill our troops. Tricky business indeed.

His finger tapped the triggerguard of his M14 and he glanced at the fire selector switch. Cantrell wondered what it would be like to fire his M14 on full auto while looking down the sights scope. He decided not to do it in actual combat, as it could cost someone their life. He sighed as he continued to move on.

A group of boys were playing soccer on a dirt field, and a man wearing sunglasses kept watch over them while sitting in a chair on a rooftop. Cantrell knew this could be a potential threat to him and his fellow Marines. After all, the first American troop to be killed downrange in the Middle East was shot dead by a AK wielding 14 year old.

Kennedy quietly continued driving down the road, the feeling that someone was watching him lingering like the smell of weed on some hippie's shaggy coat. Maybe their were Righteous Fist militants watching him through the scope of a sniper rifle, or the iron sights of a crude assault rifle. Or it could just be the new Lieutenant eyeballing him for no reason. Even so, Kennedy rolled the Humvee forward. Suddenly the LT and Staff Sergeant Hobbar started a small conversation. Afterward 13th's Humvee pulled over at the end of the road. Oh jeez, Kennedy thought, why can't we ever stay in the damn armored cars?

Kennedy pulled the Humvee over to the side with 13th's and opened the driver side door, slipping out of his seat and closing it behind him. He pulled up his M16A4 and pulled the charging handle back, letting it snap forward to chamber the first round. He then very quickly knocked on his helmet to make sure it was tightened properly.

Garreth Morgan wrote:
"Alright boys, let's move it. Jorgensen, Kennedy, Cantrell, let's take the lead from One-Five. Line formation, you know the drill. Jorgensen, up front."

"On it sir," Kennedy responded to the new-new fireteam leader. Being now the Assistant AR, Kennedy took up position right behind Jørgensen, who moved up in front.

William sat back somewhat relaxed with his weapon out and at the ready. He was bored as hell right now, and really didn't think anything was going to happen. Yet he'd been wrong before. Soon he heard Hobbar and the LT talk about something Hobbar spotted so William sighed and shook his head. He knew what was coming next. Sure enough Hobbar had them pull over and proceed into the village on foot. Before they were ordered out he tapped Wolfe's leg signaling him to be ready. William unloaded out and did what he was ordered. "You heard the man Marines lets get moving and make sure the sectors secure." William ordered his Fire-Team. As they were in mid-secure their Sergeant ordered them back and into line fromation. William looked back a bit confused by the sudden change in orders, and then sighed and shook it off. "Alright Marines belay that last, and move back and form into lineformation. Looks like we're heading into the village. Remember to watch your sectors and check for hostiles. And remember don't fire unless fired upon, if you are and there are civilians in your sight do you best to avoid any conflict try and lead them away from the civilians boys. Remember we're doing hearts and minds Marines." William said. Once he was back he looked over at Booke. "Your in behind Washington Booke, Washington your behind me. Remember what I said guys." William ordered in a relaxed, and happy tone. He knew his fire-team would handle well.

The platoon made their way towards the small village, keeping ever vigilant. Lance Corporal Booke lead the patrol, he carried his rifle in his arms, keeping it ready to quickly raise up and fire at any enemies. Suddenly though, Booke stopped dead in his tracks.

Hobbar came to the front of the patrol, "Whats wrong Booke?"

"I thought I saw something. Looked like maybe a rifle barrel...out of that window over there." Booke pointed over at a small hut.

Hobbar didn't like what he saw, he pointed at his squad leaders and directed them to fan out and search the village hut by hut. Before the platoon could move out though, a shot rung out. Private Wolfe dropped to the ground with a round straight though his helmet. Not too long later, a loud explosion rocked the road and sent the Marines dropping off their feet. "CONTACT!" Hobbar screamed, "FIRE AT WILL!"

As soon as Booke said he thought he saw something, Walker become one hundred percent serious-Sergeant. His safety catch sat in the three-round burst position, and he pulled the weapon in to his shoulder. "Fan out, Marines," he called, not wanting them in an easy-to-eliminate position. He looked left to right, eyes hidden by sunglasses as he tried to identify targets, cover, anything that could be a factor in a fire-fight whilst listening for Staff Sergeant Hobbar.

He nodded as Hobbar told him to organise a search, and quickly began a plan. "Thirt-"

Walker was cut-off by a gunshot and an explosion. He saw Private Wolfe drop down in front of him, and he pushed forward whilst the squad moved to cover. "Suppressing fire," he called, "keep them down, get to cover."

He grabbed hold of one of Wolfe's arms, and dragged him backwards towards cover, hoping that somebody would have the sense to grab the SAW, if only just to prevent it being used on him. With Wolfe behind the wall of a hut, Walker grabbed the transmit button on his radio. "Corpsman up! Casualties times one. Head injury."

Walker didn't like Wolfe's chances, and there was nothing much that he could do, other than provide protection until the medic arrived. He peered around the corner of the building, M16 in shoulder, and fired a burst down the street. "Badger One-One, Badger One-Two, this is Badger One-Five. One-One, Wolfe's out of action, I want your fireteam to provide security on this street. Identify target buildings. One-Two, I want a building-by-building sweep. How Copy?"

As he waited for a reply, he turned to Staff Sergeant Hobbar. "Staff, we may need a medevac for Wolfe. Can you try and get some helo's en route?"

Hobbar came to the front of the patrol, "Whats wrong Booke?"

"I thought I saw something. Looked like maybe a rifle barrel...out of that window over there." Booke pointed over at a small hut.

Staff Sergeant Hobbar began signalling for the platoon to spread out and search the village. Booke was about to move out when he heard the shot. Before Booke could even turn he heard a thump; someone had dropped to the deck. Instinctively, Booke shouted out, "Marine DOWN!"

Adam turned around to see who was hit, it was Wolfe from his own fireteam, Adam thought to himself, SHIT!

"Corpsman up! Casualties times one. Head injury."

Walker had already called for a Corpsman, but Adam just had to scream it for himself, "CORPSMAN! WOLFE'S DOWN!" Wolfe had the fireteam's SAW. Adam couldn't let it go to waste. Adam ran back and dragged Wolfe to behind good cover. Blood was gushing from the hole in Wolfe's helmet. Men have been shot in the head and not died before...hopefully, Wolfe was going to be alright.

Once satisfied with his position behind cover, Adam slung his rifle behind him and grabbed the M249 off of Wolfe. "I've got the SAW!" Adam propped the weapon on the low wall and scanned for flashes. "Tangos in the hut 3 o'clock!" Adam shouted, Adam pressed the trigger laying down a burst of SAW rounds. The rounds hit the hut, a straw structure. Strands of the straw the building was made of sprayed into the air. For now, the flashes from that hut stopped.

All hell broke loose when the platoon began to take fire. One Marine has hit, Michael couldn't tell if it was KIA, but head injury, definately out of commission for a while at the very best. 5th Squad's leader began to move into action, Sergeant Walker began shouting out orders and getting his Marines moving.

As he waited for a reply, he turned to Staff Sergeant Hobbar. "Staff, we may need a medevac for Wolfe. Can you try and get some helo's en route?"

Michael looked at Walker, of course some helos needed to get enroute, "Of course Matt." Michael tried to calmly reply. Michael turned around and looked for his RTO, ""Heinlien!" Michael screamed, "Give me the radio!"

Private Heinlien replied and handed Michael the radio headset.

"Haven, Haven, this is Badger-Five-Actual, we are taking casualties repeat, we are taking casualties, we need immediate CASEVACs. Over!"
"This is Haven, Roger that Badger-Five-Actual, Interrogative, what's your twenty Badger-Five-Actual, over."

"Standby for grids Haven." Michael pulled out his GPS reader, ""Grids are as follows: Zero-Three-Four-Seven-One-Two-Seven-One, Four-Seven-Four-Niner-Seven-Six-Seven-Three. Repeat my last How copy over?"

"I read: Zero-Three-Four-Seven-One-Two-Seven-One, Four-Seven-Four-Niner-Seven-Six-Seven-Three. Over."

"Affirmative."

"Alright hang tight Badger-Five-Actual, CASEVAC birds are incoming, callsign Big Bird. How Copy over?"

"Solid Copy Haven, over and out." Michael gave the radio back to Heinlin, "Sergeant, CASEVACs are inbound. Callsign Big Bird."

Everything suddenly rushed. It started with the quick notice of a nearby rifle, and then it all just went to shit. Garreth quickly raised his M4 at the fray, before realising that their target was already down. He grimaced, and took a few steps back, motioning for his men to follow.

"Stay back - don't make yourselfs into targets..."

"One-Two, I want a building-by-building sweep. How Copy?" Garreth spat, and put a finger to his ear.

"That's a Solid Copy, One-Five. Wilco." He turned to his boys, and nodded at them. "One-Five's ordering a search of the buildings on this street. We'll split into two teams. Jorgensen, Cantrell. You take the east end. I'll take the west end with Kennedy. Fire at hostiles only. Move out." He moved off towards the west end of the row of houses, rapidly pulling a grenade off his belt and loading up the M203 attached to the base of his rifle. If he needed it, he'd use it. He moved to the first door and pushed on it slightly, testing to see if it was unlocked. It was. He slipped into the room, and looked around for any contacts. Nothing.

All hell broke loose, and quickly. Wolfe hit the ground hard, a bullet right in his brain bucket. The a small explosion rocked the road, though not really doing anything. The terrified screams for a corpsman filled the air, Kennedy getting behind a building and scanning for targets. Nobody, just that one sharpshooter in the hut over yonder.

Garreth Morgan wrote:"Stay back - don't make yourselfs into targets..."

Kennedy continued scanning the area, but was a little more frantic than usual with his observation patterns. Eventually Booke opened up on the hut, Kennedy couldn't see what happened but guessed that no more shots were fired. Kennedy sighed in relief, and eased his tension accordingly. Then he noticed that Corporal Morgan was talking on his comm unit. Oh fuck, Kennedy thought, Hobbar's sending us into the meat grinder, ain't he?

Garreth Morgan wrote:"One-Five's ordering a search of the buildings on this street. We'll split into two teams. Jorgensen, Cantrell. You take the east end. I'll take the west end with Kennedy. Fire at hostiles only. Move out."

Make that Walker he thought. Kennedy followed closely behind Morgan, who led him to a house. Morgan slipped the door open and entered the room. Kennedy couldn't hear any gunshots, so he guessed it was cleared. Before he could enter he caught sight of hostiles to the immediate west of their position; five olive drab clad men armed with AKMs, one with a G3. "CONTACT!" Kennedy yelled. Almost simultaneously he pulled his rifle around and crouched near the doorway, giving him partial concealment. After aiming down his sights, Kennedy released a burst from his M16A4. The soldier carrying the G3 dropped, the remaining five jumped and began spreading out, scanning their sectors. Kennedy fired another couple of bursts from his M16A4, the leftmost soldier hit the floor.

The remaining soldiers then spotted Kennedy, and two opened up on him with a couple of bursts from their AKM rifles. Kennedy jerked back into the doorway, bullets barely missing him. "Holy crap," Kennedy uttered. He looked at Corporal Morgan for a second, and said, "There's four left out there, west, a couple saw me."

Walker was on one knee beside Booke, the front of his M16 resting on the low wall. By his left ear, the M249 was roaring, deafening him. He heard Hobbar shouting down the radio behind him, but Walker concentrated ahead. At the end of the street, there was a house, and a considerable volume of gunfire - thankfully very inaccurate - was coming from it. From the deep bass noises, he could tell it was 7.62. Probably AK's, possibly some older battle rifles, the G3 had been fairly popular in Iraqistan.

"Booke, I'm counting at least three shooters in that building. I don't want an assault on it. Keep the fire down, I'll try and get the Mark 9's up here."

He broke off as Hobbar told him the helo was on the way. Big Bird. He repeated the callsign outloud as he radioed Fifteenth. "Badger One-Three, this is Badger One-Five. Bring the vehicles up. I want the Mark 19 second in the line. We are under fire, be prepared to engage Tangoes. I have targets for demolition available, I will confirm upon your arrival. Over."

He addressed Hobbar now, firing still with his M16. "Hobbar, I need permission to level that strong-house dead ahead with the Mark 19's. We can't assault it with that much fire from it. And we need to move fast. I'm pretty sure on the other side of this village we saw a soccer field, we need to secure it as an LZ, it's the best place to CASEVAC. Our vehicles are advancing on us as we speak."

His M16 stopped firing, and he quickly shouted "RELOADING!" He dropped below cover, switching magazines in the drill he had practised hundreds of times. It occured to him that he was taking command here, not so much as asking the Staff Sergeant's permission as saying what would happen. Still, as long as what needed to be done got done...

Cantrell heard the order and started checking and clearing houses on the east side with the other Marine. He flicked the safety off on his side arm and switched the safety off on his 92FS and switched his M14 to automatic fire. Cantrell ran every couple of feet and made sure to stay near cover. As he was about to kick open a door, a burst of AK fire was directed towards him. All the rounds sprayed the ground and went way above his head, as the shooter was firing behind cover without even aiming. He kicked open the door to the building that the shooter was in. Immediately, the Marine led in with the barrel of his M14 and as soon as it was pointing at the hostile, Cantrell let a burst of automatic fire rip through the target. Blood, bones, and guts were blown out as the powerful .308 rounds ripped neat holes at the entry points and left craters at the exit wound. He took a look around the room. It seemed empty.

"ALL CLEAR!" Cantrell shouted.