- spartan120
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"We are wide open to attack!" shouted the team leader. "All available units, prepare to ________________________..."
"...to fall back on my position!"
"Negative sir! There's too many of 'em, we're pinned down! -blam!-! Sorry sir, looks like you're on you own...'
Screams can be heard through the radio, then only static...
"Aw Hell!", the team leader throws his headset to the ground.
"Right, prepare to defend yourselves! Corporal? Take yourself and Edwards, get on that .50 and get ready to lay down some suppressing fire! Short controlled bursts. We don't want to run out of ammo before we thin 'em out a little."
"Roger that sir", responds the corporal.
The team leader prepares to address his troops; He can not afford to show fear or doubt, regret or sympathy, for there is no place for such things on the field of battle.
"All right ladies and gents, I want this to go by the numbers, no one quits, everybody fights. Let's take as many of these son's of b**ches with us as we can!'
The team leader looks to the breach where the enemy threatens to spew fourth and overrun his position...
'Nobody shoot till you see the whites of their eyes...', he says, his voice filled with cold determination.
The team leader looks beyond the distance, seeing something that is not there, a field bathed in sunlight, the smiling face of a love long forgotten. For the briefest of moments, the faint trace of a smile can be seen through the mud and blood and grime...
A jumpy private begins to whimper uncontrollably, not wanting to face what comes next.
He looks to his leader for something: comfort? Mercy? Reprieve?
'I don't wanna die Sir! God, I don't wanna die!'
The fearless leader looks down at the young man, his resolve now returned, features chiseled as though from the coldest, hardest stone, 'What, do you want to live forever, grunt?'...
The end!
I got a bit carried away...
Damn.
The old writing hands need some dusting off me thinks...