Mounted Patrol - HMMWVs

"Holy crap, there's four left out there, west, a couple saw me."

Garreth nodded, and put a finger on the trigger of the Grenade Launcher. He crept up the stairs, and looked out of the window at the top. Good, they were in range. He motioned down to Kennedy.

"I'll distract them. Once I've fired the first shot, don't relent until they hit the ground. Understood?" Garreth smirked, and took aim out of the window. He trained his eye down the sights, and pulled the trigger, firing a grenade with a near-silent phunt. The projectile hit it's mark almost exactly, exploding in the middle of the soldiers, sending one flying, the man already dead before he hit the ground. They then trained their aim onto Garreth.

"Now!" He was pinned, but if Kennedy was good enough to take a couple more down, Morgan could finish with the vital shot.

Kennedy watched as Corporal Morgan silently made his way upstairs, then signaled back.

Garreth Morgan wrote:"I'll distract them. Once I've fired the first shot, don't relent until they hit the ground. Understood?"

"Roger that," Kennedy replied. He took up position near the doorway again, ready to shoot when ordered. Kennedy silently switched his M16A4 to single-shot, which he preferred for this kind of work. After a very short amount of time, Morgan called out to the Marine.

Garreth Morgan wrote:"Now!"

Kennedy quickly looked out the door, seeing that the grenade shot had hit one enemy soldier, his comrades firing back at Morgan. Kennedy aimed back down his sights and shot four rounds at his first target, the man dropping to the floor with three new orifices. Kennedy snapped to the next man and pulled the trigger another three times, the man's chest and lower torso sprayed blood behind him. The target dropped, not quite dead, but not combat effective. Kennedy focused his attention away from the dying man and aimed at the last target, who unfortunately had Kennedy lined up already. Kennedy knew what his orders were, but wasn't dumb enough to get himself killed, and jerked backwards. The final soldier shot five or six rounds on full auto at Kennedy's position; three came through the wall and wobbled harmlessly into the next wall, one missed the doorway, the other two blew pieces off the doorway and barely missed Kennedy (who knew he didn't have enough time to pull off another stunt like that).

"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."

"Yes Sergeant!" Adam screamed, he broke off and ran back towards the HMMWVs. Gunfire hit the deck by his feet as he shuffled back towards the road. "Shit!" Adam screamed, he took cover behind a bush, hoping it concealed him from the enemy. He huffed as he tried to catch his breath. Adam's heart was really pumping now. He could feel his whole body trembling from the adreneline...sometime he hasn't felt before. His baptism under fire so to speak. Adam felt a rush. His breath caught back up with him and he pushed himself off the ground and sprinted.

Adam made it back to the HMMWV, he opened the door and jumped into the driver's seat. He turned on the vehicle's engine and drove up towards the village. There could've been IEDs, but if there were any they probably would've seen it by then. Adam stopped the vehicle and climbed through the in terior of the HMMWV into the gun turret. He climbed onto the Mark 19 and screamed, "Where do you want it Sergeant!?"

The three HMMWV's arrived, the .50 cal machine guns lighting up enemy positions and giving Walker a chance to run over to the middle vehicle. Booke had already climbedup to the Mk 19 and made it ready, and was asking for positive target ID.

Running up behind the HMMWV, Walker leapt on to the carge net on the back and crouched so his head was just popping over the top. "Fire straight ahead. Two rounds in the window the fire is coming from."

As the Mk 19 fired, Walker looked at the net-covered of gear, and pulled up one corner. He removed two items, one a collapsible stretch for Wolfe, and the second a red smoke canister, for the purpose of signalling aircraft.

He jumped back down to Wolfe and folding out the stretcher. "Somebody give me a hand here," he called as he prepared to move Wolfe on to the stretcher to then mount him on one of the vehicles and get to the field.

The Marines held their ground fighting back the enemy rebels. The Marine's heavy Mk 19 and M2 Browning Machine Guns really fucked up the huts and left a scene of carnage.

"Somebody give me a hand here,"

"I got you Sergeant." Doc Anderson replied. He came running grabbing on end of the stretcher and running it towards the downed Marine. He'd lost a lot of blood, but they had stopped the bleeding for now. Wolfe wasn't going to make it if that CASEVAC didn't come anytime soon though.

The enemy forces obviously now scattered, Lieutenant Garber urged forward his Marines. "Secure the village. Search for any intel and weapons. Thirteenth, find a good LZ for that CASEVAC Osprey.

Within a few minutes, the Marines finished moping up the area and the Osprey touched down. The Marines loaded up their casualty and mounted back up. They faced a slight detour, but they had a mission, the Marines still needed to recon further up the road.

((OOC: FML. I hate it. Sorry I've been so inactive-- not really a good sign when your main administrator can't even log online and post. Thanks to Hobbar for keeping things running smoothly. A few things though-- firstly, you NEVER say "repeat" on the radio. The proper term is "I say again." Repeat means "repeat fire mission." You only say it when you call in arty or CAS.

Also, you wouldn't be firing your weapons on burst. Marines only use semi-auto (single shot). Burst fire is too wasteful of ammunition. SAW operators are a different story, they use a combination of burst and full auto as their job is to suppress the enemy, obviously.))

Things had definitely grow far more perilous as the Marines entered the village. At first all had been calm, even seemingly normal. Kids played on the outskirts of the town, holding a small soccer, and a few females took their kids towards a stream... although she could have been taking them somewhere else.

When Wolfe had gone down, Garber cursed under his breath. An explosion resounded and he dropped to the ground from the shockwave of the blast. Pushing himself up off the deck, he dropped down to one knee and squeezed off several rounds in the direction of the enemy fire. He then bolted towards the nearest cover-- behind a sheet metal fence-- and stayed as close to the ground as possible. His neck was propped up against the metal so that he could see his men.

It seemed that the Staff Sergeant had a handle on the situation. That was a good thing because it meant that they could make sense out of the chaos. However, with the volume of fire being brought out towards them and the number of enemies engaging them-- things were going to get even more hectic soon enough.

Rolling out from cover, Michael used his arm to support the weapon, taking aim on a insurgent. He calmed his breathing and closed his eyes... praying to the Almighty God that he would be forgiven for what he was about to do. With a single pull of the trigger his weapon kicked into his shoulder. Garber's eyes followed the tracer 'til it struck the man in the skull, a clear spray of blood and brain matter splashing across the wall behind the man. His body went limp and collapsed to the dirt and two hostiles took notice of their comrades death.

Searching for his killer, they peppered the entire area with led-- leaving no discretion on what they were shooting at-- or attempting to converse their ammunition. Michael rolled back into cover and tried to maintain his calm. Those guys were really trying to kill him. If he wasn't careful he might end up being yet another casualty... and the battle hadn't even gone on for more than five minutes.

Fortunately, it seemed God was on his side-- and his platoon. The Hummvees sped into the city and came to a halt, the Mark 19 and fifty cal's peppering the huts with fire. It seemed that nothing was left standing as the volley of fire tore into everything in the village. With a sigh of relief, the lieutenant stood up and dashed to Staff Sergeant Hobbar's position.

"We need to keep pushing! Let's secure that soccer field and get Wolfe out of here," he ordered, then added, "load him into a Hummvee! We'll mount up, take him there, and once he's evac'd, we'll proceed with the mission."

"We need to keep pushing! Let's secure that soccer field and get Wolfe out of here," he ordered, then added, "load him into a Hummvee! We'll mount up, take him there, and once he's evac'd, we'll proceed with the mission."

Adam was already in the turret. He just sat there and waited for the rest of his team to climb in. "Damn man...this day is becoming...rather hectic..." Adam wiped the sweat off his brow and took a drink of water from his canteen. He was starting to really steam up.

ooc short. I wanted to post, but I didn't have much time.

Looking over Wolfe's limp form on the stretcher, Walker rolled his eyes at Hobbar. The two of them had the situation under control, and then the LT came running over, shouting and hollering trying to look like he was in charge.

They put Wolfe on the middle HumVee, and Walke ran around to the passenger door, climbing up and establishing a firing position out the window. With a roar, the front vehicle moved off, and soon Walker's vehicle followed, moving quickly towards the soccer field.

The vehicles stopped in a large circle, and everybody dismouned filling the gaps. Walker ran to the middle of the circle and sparked the smoke canister before grabbing the radio. "Bigbird, this is Badger One-Five. Landing site secure, say again, landing site secure. Come in on red smoke, over."

"Badger One-Five, Big Bird. Roger that, coming in one red smoke. Over."

The large Osprey dropped down in VTOL configuration, turning so the open rear ramp faced the vehicle with Wolfe on it. Walker grabbed one end of the stretcher, and the onboard Corpsman and loadmaster came sprinting out, meeting him halfway. Once Wolfe was aboard, the Osprey took off again.

The Marines remounted the vehicles and continued the patrol.

Kennedy was relieved that the Marines got out of the firefight without taking more casualties. He moved along with his fireteam after recieving the order until they reached their Humvee, where Kennedy jumped quickly into the driver's seat. Once everybody else was inside the vehicle, he floored it toward the soccer field (OOC: Will delete this last sentence is we didn't mount up to get to the field). Once at the field, Kennedy dismounted and brought his rifle around, getting ready to drop any hostile he would see. After a small time spent securing the field, Walker popped some smoke to signal the Osprey, which landed in the field and picked up Wolfe's limp body. Kennedy cursed under his breath, It's the first damn mission, a simple patrol, and there's already a Marine who probably won't survive. "Dammit," Kennedy uttered aloud, not entirely aware that he did.

After the Osprey took off, Kennedy and the other Marines remounted. Kennedy had somewhat a liking for the driver's seat, even though he considered his driving skills average he knew he could still pull off a complicated (if somewhat risky) move if it meant saving the occupants of his vehicle. Kennedy was prepared to face whatever was left for the Marines to face on the patrol, and this time would be ready to be the lead vehicle if given the order.

As the Osprey landed, Michael's heart sank. He watched as the Crew Chief bolted out of the aircraft, a Corpsman alongside him, and the two grabbed Wolfe and tossed him onto a stretcher. While he couldn't tell from where he was standing, it looked as if the Corpsman's expression was dire. And almost as quickly as they came, they had loaded Wolfe onto the transport and taken off.

Turning to all of the Marines, everyone seemed to hop into their vehicles and awaited the order to move. Taking a deep breath, Michael climbed back into the Hummvee and looked at his driver and gave him a nod. "All Badger Six Victors, Oscar Mike. Proceed North-East, watch for further contact, over."

The engine revved as the vehicle began to push itself forward and before long they were back on the bumpy, unpaved, dirt path that had been wrongfully labelled a "road." His idea of a road was paved cement surface where the vehicles were pouncing around like they had hydraulics on and running. The ride was most definitely uncomfortable.

Continuing down the path it seemed all was clear. Nothing but brush and foliage on either side of the path. Even so, Garber wasn't about to allow the Marines to walk into another ambush. He kept his eyes open and his rifle at the ready, currently resting in his lap.

His attention was diverted however when he heard the sound of helicopter rotors off in the distance, followed by the pitter patter of machine gun fire. Looking at Kennedy, he just shook his head. "Keep moving," he commanded, he then grabbed the radio transmitter from off the dashboard.

"Haven, this is Badger Six Actual, interrogative," he began, flinching when he heard the sound of a missile exploding off in the distance, "are there currently any Cobra's operating in our AO? We're hearing lots of gunfire due West of our twenty, over."

The response came quick. "Uh, Six Actual, wait one, over."

As he waited, he could now hear the sound if small arms fire somewhere to the column's left, deep within the jungle. If he was right and those were Cobra's, then they could very well be leading the insurgents in their direction. That wasn't exactly a good thing, especially if those Cobra's were unaware of their presence.

"Six Actual, that's an a-firm. You have Cobra's due West of you engaging hostile ground targets, AT capability confirmed, how copy."

Michael groaned and looked at the others, who all seemed to have come to the same realization as he had. This wasn't going to be pretty. "Solid Copy, Haven. Interrogative: can you inform those Cobra's to check their fire and try to redirect those hostiles? If I'm right, they're headed right for us, over."

"Roger. Contacting them now, standby."

While the operator tried to communicate with the Cobra's, Michael clicked the 'talk' button on his COMMLITE radio, contacting the platoon. They needed to know what was going on; especially if the enemy was headed their way. "Six Actual to all Badger Six Victors, be advised: we have friendly gunships operating in our AO. They've made contact with insurgents who appear to have anti-tank capabilities and have engaged them, break," he paused as he took a deep breath and tried to think of how best to word his next sentence. "unfortunately, they're funneling those tango's in our direction. Be prepared to make contact to the west of our column if those Cobra's can't hold them off, over."

Just as he finished, word finally came in.

"Badger Six Actual, negative on redirect. Hostiles are moving fast towards your column and should arrive within three mikes. Advise you hold and set up an ambush, out."

The convoy departed again, this time in silence. Boisterous cat-calling and singing stopped as everybody thought about Wolfe. In his vehicle, Walker broke the silence with a single word. "Shit." There were a few grunts of agreement as the otherwise silent convoy continued along the road, weapons pointing out everybody now fully aware of the chance of an ambush. So much for a routine patrol.

Instead, the roar of helicopters and the piercing sounds of high explosives drew eyes, and the LT broke the news that the friendly air support was driving enemy forces towards them. Nervous eyes moved around Walker's humvee, to which he once again broke the silence. "Motherfuckers."

Quickly, the vehicles moved off the road, trying to set up an ambush facing West. Walker was unsure what they could do, other than get the MG's to bear and have as many rifles facing the enemy as possible. If anything remotely heavy came, all they had was the Mk 19 and an AT-4. Walker was out of his vehicle, and took a knee behind the hot engine block. His M16A4 rested on top of the hood, fresh magazine in and a fragmentation round shoved in the M203. Fifteenth fireteam had set up, the SAW operator, O'Brien prone next to him, and Metz peering down his scope DMR scope. Deschamps manned the '50, and Patterson was at the other end of the vehicle.

Kennedy waited briefly as the remainder of the Marines mounted up. Garber jumped back into the passenger seat and gave Kennedy a nod. Kennedy nodded back and turned the key, starting the engine. Taking a breath, he pushed forward on the pedal to get the Humvee back on the dirt path as the LT gave the order to move out. The road was bumpy as usual and gave Kennedy a little bite in the ass, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

After a bit more driving, the Humvee was surrounded by mostly foliage. Kennedy kept a sharp eye on the Humvee's flanks, making sure there wasn't an ambush set up for them. He took a brief look at the LT, who already had his gun primed and ready fire. Kennedy himself was a bit tense, but it was mostly the adrenaline from the firefight slowly kicking it down a couple notches. As he continued to traverse the path, Kennedy could hear what sounded like a copter flying around, followed by the echoes of gun fire.

Michael Garber wrote:"Keep moving."

Kennedy didn't need to be a genius to know that the LT was addressing him, and answered with a, "Roger that." Kennedy noticed that the LT was talking on the dashboard radio, but flinched at what sounded like an explosion. Kennedy just perked up and looked in the direction they were coming from briefly, then continued driving. HQ's response came in shortly (but not before a small pause), confirming that there were Cobras opening up on infantry to their west. "Fuck," Kennedy uttered to himself, the others in the Humvee groaning. This is bad, Kennedy thought to himself, those Cobras are gonna push 'em back towards us.

Michael Garber wrote:"Solid Copy, Haven. Interrogative: can you inform those Cobra's to check their fire and try to redirect those hostiles? If I'm right, they're headed right for us, over."

Haven wrote:"Roger. Contacting them now, standby."

We all know that probably won't happen, Kennedy thought. Meanwhile, Garber hit his COMMLITE and broke the news to the rest of the platoon. Kennedy could picture exactly what Sgt. Walker would say, 'Motherfuckers.'

Almost as quickly as Garber gave everyone the situation, Haven came back on the radio.

Haven wrote:"Badger Six Actual, negative on redirect. Hostiles are moving fast towards your column and should arrive within three mikes. Advise you hold and set up an ambush, out."

Kennedy shook his head, mouthing out the words terrific. After a bit, Kennedy pulled the Humvee off-road, as did the other Humvees, and hopped out. Kennedy ejected his clip and inspected it; thirteen rounds left, the fourteenth in the barrel. He furrowed his brow and pulled out a fresh mag, the old mag replacing its storage pouch. Quickly inserting the mag into his M16A4, Kennedy took up a position near the Humvee's front-right wheel, went prone, and aimed west. Hopefully the insurgents had nothing too heavy, because three Mk 19's and a single AT-4 CS were the only things the Marines had to stop it.

"All Badger Six Victors, Oscar Mike. Proceed North-East, watch for further contact, over."

Michael looked at his driver, "Let's move." The HMMWV took off and began back down the dirt road. Michael couldn't forget the past skirmish, right now he just wanted to hurry up and finish the patrol to get back to the base. The day dragged on long enough already. Michael opened one of his utility pouches on his armor. He revealed a small bag of skittles. Michael tore open the package and poured a mouthful in his mouth. Mouth full of candy, Michael turned around and looked around in his vehicle, "Skittles?" Michael passed the bag around the cabin. Scanning the road, Michael chewed his sugary snack.

Gun fire and explosions in the distance caught Michael's attention as did the radio call from the LT that came not to long after.

"Haven, this is Badger Six Actual, interrogative," he began, flinching when he heard the sound of a missile exploding off in the distance, "are there currently any Cobra's operating in our AO? We're hearing lots of gunfire due West of our twenty, over."

"Uh, Six Actual, wait one, over."

"Six Actual, that's an a-firm. You have Cobra's due West of you engaging hostile ground targets, AT capability confirmed, how copy."

"Solid Copy, Haven. Interrogative: can you inform those Cobra's to check their fire and try to redirect those hostiles? If I'm right, they're headed right for us, over."

"Roger. Contacting them now, standby."

"Six Actual to all Badger Six Victors, be advised: we have friendly gunships operating in our AO. They've made contact with insurgents who appear to have anti-tank capabilities and have engaged them, break," he paused as he took a deep breath and tried to think of how best to word his next sentence. "unfortunately, they're funneling those tango's in our direction. Be prepared to make contact to the west of our column if those Cobra's can't hold them off, over."

Huy turned in his HMMWV and commanded, "Check ammo, looks like today isn't quite over yet." Michael pulled out his magazine, it looked full, he slapped it back into his weapon. The convoy slowed to a stop as the Marines pulled into the treeline on the side of the road in an attempted to gain some concealment in the foliage.

"Badger Six Actual, negative on redirect. Hostiles are moving fast towards your column and should arrive within three mikes. Advise you hold and set up an ambush, out."

"Way ahead of you LT." Michael whispered to himself. Michael opened the door of his HMMWV, "Everyone out," the fireteam was already a man down, so this time Michael didn't want to take any chances, "Booke, stay on the Mark 19, everyone else take cover behind the vehicle and standby to kill." Michael finished chewing the few skittles that were still in his mouth and took a big gulp. Simultaneously, Michael grabbed his hydration tube and stuffed it in his mouth. He sucked the tube for 4 seconds gulping a large amount of water. Scanning the platoon, Michael said, "MGs to the front, everyone else stay back in the foliage, but keep a good firing position."

The patrol had to continue. The vehiclces moved onward and soon enough, the sound of explosions and gunfire halted the progress of the Marines. Adam thought to himself, shooting and explosions, the smart decision is to stop. He ignored it mostly however and just stayed focused on scanning the surrounding landscape. He rotated his turret around 360, all clear for now. The Staff Sergeant was listening intently to the radio traffic, soon enough, he ordered the squad to get ready for an ambush.

"Booke, stay on the Mark 19, everyone else take cover behind the vehicle and standby to kill."

"Aye Staff Sergeant." Adam responded. He opened the top tray (i don't know what it's called) of the MK19 and made sure his rounds were set and ready to go. Slamming the top dowm, Adam pulled back the charging handle and pointed it out towards the direction of where the Marines were waiting.

The sounds of the explosions grew closer and Adam tensed, things were going to light up again soon.

The Marines prepared for the incoming enemy forces, they didn't know what to expect, light reconnaissance vehicles, some Technicals, Light Armored Vehicles, Tanks, or just infantry. The Marines waited intensely, their bodies tense and waiting, they could hear the explosions and screams grow louder as it drew closer.

"Badger Six Actual, Hostiles are going to be on top of you in 30 seconds. Good luck down there. Over and Out."

"Alright boys!" Hobbar shouted, "Give 'em all you've got!" With that, two white pickups swerved into the Marine's shooting gallery. "Light them up!" Michael fired his M4 at the vehicles, as did the rest of the Marines. Tracers lit up the sky, burning holes through the vehicles. One pickup swerved off the side of the road and hit a rock, then tumbled and flipped a few times in the air before finally crashing into a tree and bursting into flames.

A Cobra fired off it's last rockets and made a fly by pass. Some Marines cheered as the chopper flew by, but the celebration was short, Michael could hear the loud hum of engines, engines from tracked vehicles. "SHIT HEAVY ARMOR!" Michael shouted, hopefully those with AT4s heard him and were already getting ready. Michael looked up from behind his cover and saw about a squad sized force come around the bend and closely behind them two tanks, one M41 Walker Bulldog Light Tank and one M60A3 Patton Main Battle Tank. "Fuck..."

"Alright boys!" Hobbar shouted, "Give 'em all you've got!" With that, two white pickups swerved into the Marine's shooting gallery. "Light them up!"

The Staff Sergeant ordered the Marines to open fire. Adam gladly obliged. He fired his Mk 19 automatic grenade launcher. The power was amazing. His whole body shook as 40 mikenmike rounds flew through the weapon and towards the enemy. The grenades hit one pickup square on. The grenade exploded and a fireball unleashed from the vehicle.

"I got one!" Adam screamed. By now, the Marines took out both pickups, but a new danger appeared, 2 tanks. "God damn! FUCK. MY. LIFE!" Adam shifted his Mk 19 and aimed at the M41, the lighter of the two tanks. He fired off his weapon, but it made minimal effect on the armored beast. Only dents in the armor. Gotta keep shooting...Adam thought to himself. He kept firing his weapon, but it stopped shooting. Out of ammo? He looked at his belt, still had grenades, "SHIT...MK 19s JAMMED!" He pulled back on the charging lever over and over but to no avail. "FUCK THIS" Adam called, he jumped out from the turret and took cover with the rest of the squad.

Kennedy waited for any sign of enemy activity, but as usual they were taking their time. Kennedy slowly acquired his hydration tube and took a small gulp of water, then quickly returned it. He heard Hobbar command all MGs to the front and for the rest of the Marines to take cover in the foliage. Kennedy followed the order, leaving his position to grab some concealment.

Michael Hobbar wrote:"Alright boys, give 'em all you've got!"

Kennedy tensed up a tad bit, knowing that the enemy must be near. He swapped his gun's fire mode from safe to single, aiming down the iron sights for something to show up and ruin his already bad day. Before long Kennedy could hear the drone of some kind of car, most likely technicals. Of course he was right, two nice little pick-ups with mounted guns on the backs of them popped into existence.

Michael Hobbar wrote:"Light them up!"

Kennedy aimed for one of the technicals and rattled it with gunfire, his comrades doing the same. Soon the technical swerved to avoid further damage, and hit a rock, which caused the pick-up to tumble off road. After tumbling for a second the pick-up hit a tree and exploded. The other pick-up was rattled with Mk 19 fire, and also erupted into flames. Of course there was infantry as well, and the Marines opened up on them too.

Simultaneously, Kennedy could hear a chopper overhead. The Cobra flew in and made a quick fly-by pass, its rockets tearing up the enemy infantry. "Hoo! Thank you close air support!" Kennedy cheered briefly, some Marines also cheering. Unfortunately Kennedy heard a sound that ruined his mood; the distant sound of large engines droning and tracks breaking the ground. Another squad-sized force of men came from the bend, followed by one M41 Light Tank and one Patton Tank.

"ARMOR!"

Kennedy watched as Booke from a nearby Humvee opened fire and barely dented the M41, until he stopped firing. Most likely he was out of ammo or his Mk 19 jammed. "Cover me," Kennedy told his fireteam as he ran back towards his Humvee.

"BJ!" he shouted, "Get the fuck out the Humvee!"

Before Kennedy could get inside a few enemy riflemen opened up on him. Kennedy instinctively slid in behind the Humvee for cover, taking suppressive fire. He felt a warm patch on his side, and saw that he'd been grazed by gunfire and was bleeding lightly.

"Fuck," Kennedy cursed, "BJ! Get out of the Humvee!" he tried again.

Some Marines began panicking when the tanks rolled around the bend, rifles and small arms do not generally fare well against heavily armored behemoths. For the squad's leaders Lieutenant Garber and Staff Sergeant Hobbar, they were a bit stunned, they were not equipped for this type of engagement. Fortunately, they were Marines, improvise, adapt, overcome. Hobbar screamed at his SAW gunners. "Take out their infantry!"

His SAW gunners happily obliged as well as some of the regular riflemen. Tracers poured downrange towards the enemy infantry who thought their tanks were going to protect them. Six rebels dropped to the floor, riddled with bullets, the rest took cover behind their armor.

"BJ!" he shouted, "Get the fuck out the Humvee!"

"Fuck," Kennedy cursed, "BJ! Get out of the Humvee!" he tried again.

Jørgensen ran out of the HMMWV taking cover with the rest of the platoon when he saw a red patch on Kennedy's side. In a heavy Danish accent, he asked, "Kennedy, are you okay!? You're hit!"

Hobbar heard the short exchange and called for the Corpsman, "DOC! Up here now!" Doc came up to help Kennedy, meanwhile, Hobbar looked around those tanks were going to destroy his platoon. He couldn't let that happen, he got up from cover and ran into the HMMWV. He rummaged through it for a while until finally coming out with two AT4 anti-tank rockets. He tossed them to Booke and to Walker, "Make em count he ordered."

Kennedy noticed the door of the Humvee fly open, and Jørgensen jumping out. Alongside his fellow Marine, Kennedy hobbled his way back to cover, which was about five or so steps for him. As he reached the off side of the road, Kennedy threw himself into cover, making sure his rifle was not damaged during the tumble. While inspecting his rifle for any visual damage, Kennedy's side went into a sharp pain. Kennedy dropped his rifle, it hanging from its sling, and briefly inspected his wounds; nothing life threatening, but they sure as hell sucked. Kennedy let out a small chuckle, which sounded almost like a cough. So much for an easy first mission he thought as his blood stained his fatigues.

Jørgensen wrote: "Kennedy, are you okay!? You're hit!"

"Yeah," Kennedy responded, "It isn't bad, but it isn't good." Kennedy grunted in pain, putting a bit of pressure on his wounds.

He could hear Staff Sergeant Hobbar calling for a corpman, who came to Kennedy's aid. Corpman Anderson was close by, and didn't hesitate to check on the downed Marine.

"Hey there, Doc," Kennedy greeted him.

"Where're you hit, Marine?"

Kennedy pointed to the couple of holes and scratches on his side. Anderson smirked, and began applying first aid to Kennedy. The wounded Marine noticed Hobbar give Booke and Walker a couple of AT-4 CS launchers, telling the to make them count. Hopefully they did, or else the Marines would be stuck up shit creek without a paddle, or a boat.

He tossed them to Booke and to Walker, "Make em count" he ordered.

Adam caught the AT4. "Yes Staff Sergeant!" Adam screamed, he trembled but was feeling good. He had to chance to save the platoon, maybe be a hero. Adam wasn't a hero type though, but he wanted to keep his friends safe. He got up and ran to get closer. He stayed in the cover of the treeline and made his way to within 300 meters, the effective range of the weapon. He brought the weapon up to above his shoulder and prepared to fire.

The Tanks approached and Adam dissengaged the safety and squeezed the trigger. The rocket fired and streamed towards the tank. The rocket smashed into the M41. The tank stopped in its tracks and lit up in flames. "Fuck you Tank!" Adam screamed. He dropped the spent tube and ran back towards his platoon.

Walker looked up from his sights at Hobbar's call, to see the tubular form of the AT-4 CS flying towards him. He reached out, hands wrapping around the sling, causing the weapon to swing round on to his back. He slipped his arm through it, and crouched behind the HMMWV, plotting. He didn't like the chances of the AT4 against the front armour, but with the dense bush around the battle, there was a chance to outflank.

"Cover!" he called, signalling with his hands, "give me thirty seconds!" He pulled himself up as the .50 cal atop his HMMWV kicked in to life, suppressing the Patton tank. He reached down, grabbing Deschamps's arm, pulling him with him. Running, he moved across the narrow roadway to the trees. Weapons in shoulder, they moved quickly to an angle where they could fire at the thinner rear of the tank. He flicked up the small sights, and dropped to one knee as Deschamps fired his M16. He briefly aimed before firing, discarding the empty tube and sprinting back towards the platoon, not turning back to see the tank.

The two Marines with the AT4s made their way valiantly to meet the enemy armored threat. Both Booke and Walker carefully approached the M41 and fired their tubes. The tank exploded leaving a heap of armor blocking the road. The M60 behind it stalled shortly giving the Marines a window to act.

ooc. I'll let you guys decide what you want to happen, call in air, try to escape, etc.

OOC: Airstrike the living shit out of em'.