Page 66 of Salute, To Bravery
Denning, I wouldn’t be Denning or Corporal in civilian life. Damn, I’d be Sophie once again. A fleeting frown crossed my face. I didn’t know who Sophie was. Sophie Denning was someone I didn’t recognise. Denning was a soldier. How interesting, I mused, this would be a journey of discovery.
Chapter Three.
Anders
Pain screamed through my body. The smell of burnt flesh, spilt oil, fire, and blood filled my nostrils. Gunfire, explosions, yells, cries for help, and a shrill scream assaulted my ears. I forced my eyes open and was further attacked by red and orange flames, twisted metal, and bodies everywhere.
There was a haze over everything, and thick black smoke spiralled its way towards the sky. Harsh noises further bombarded my ears, and I shook myself to shrug off the dizziness I was feeling.
Dazed, I looked around, confused and shocked. I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the pain in my left arm. Taking stock, I realised we’d been attacked. Our GMV-S was severely damaged, forced into a shape it should not resemble. Had I been inside that? The two vehicles in front were also damaged, the middle car nothing but a hulk of twisted metal and blood. Nobody had survived that.
An arm hung out of a gap, the fingers reaching towards me, pleading for help, but it was too late; they were beyond any aid I could offer. A foot lay on the ground, but there was no body nearby. The men and women in the middle GMV-S were gone, ambushed, and murdered.
Turning slightly, I saw the second vehicle was damaged but intact, and the soldiers inside were using it as a shield as they fired on our attackers. Fuckin’ insurgents.
I turned to see where my team was, and my stomach twisted. Maelstrom lay on his front; his teeth gritted against what must be agonising pain as he shot at the enemies. His foot was hanging off, and I knew it was a loss. Denning was behind an improvised shield of our GMV-S door and shooting steadily. Hate was etched deeply on her face.
That rocked me because I’d never seen anything like that on Denning before. DiMarco was using the wreck to cover Maelstrom, who was basically pinned down. My eyes turned toward the scream.
Foster held Rogers in her arms, and my heart sank. He was dead. He’d lost a leg, his ribs were exposed, and there was a head injury. Foster grasped him to her and screamed and screamed.
All this took mere seconds to absorb.
“Corporal! Defend your team; we will mourn later!” I snapped.
Foster’s body jolted, and her tear-stained face rose to mine.
“We’ll all die for the lack of your gun!” I ordered.
Foster kissed Rogers and gently laid him on the floor. Hate crossed her expression, much like Dennings’, and she crab-crawled to cover and took aim.
“DiMarco, lie down covering fire!” I yelled and went after Maelstrom. Bullets peppered the ground around him, and he’d been hit twice. But he kept firing. I grabbed his legs, trying not to look at his mangled foot, and dragged him to safety.
“Tie his foot off and save what you can of his leg. Has anyone called base for air support?” I demanded.
“I have,” Denning said. “Got that little bastard.”
“Who?”
“That asshole from town with his truck. Thought he was suspicious the other day. He was attacking with the insurgents.Not anymore; now he owns a bullet in his head. Traitorous prick,” she snarled.
I looked across at the first vehicle. Their Browing was spitting bullets, and they were pretty well off. I was the highest-ranked officer, and they were my responsibility. I moved as fast as I could, which was fuckin’ slow, and made it to their GMV-S and checked on them. They had one injured, but the rest were alive and holding off the incoming insurgents.
A corporal in the vehicle told me they’d driven straight over an IED, but it hadn’t gone off. It had taken the second SUV out, and we’d been hit with a Javelin missile, he thought. They’d also radioed for air support. I nodded and started to make my way back when my knees gave in. The corporal grabbed me, hauled me inside the vehicle, and began checking me over. I was aghast when I saw the damage to my right leg.
Well, damn, I thought and passed out.
???
Loud noises, harsh bright lights, hurrying footsteps. Pain. Screams and cries for help. Everything was heightened, and there was no stopping the overload. Jumbled words. Amputate. Low survival. Dead on arrival. Ambush. Save them. Blood donations. Loss of limbs. Operate. Infection.
I closed my eyes and wished everyone would fuck off to hell.
???
“Wake up, Anders. We need you,” a voice urged.
No. I am quite happy here, it’s nice and dark and warm. No harsh reality waiting for me, nobody to tell me I’m not whole orintact. Right here is safe and relaxing. I don’t need to wake up ever again. Why would I? Once I open my eyes, another battle faces me. One I do not want to recognise or fight. Nope, staying here is far better.
