We all scrambled out of the building and ran into the streets. We did not have any pursuers, which was a relief in this territory. We ran into the streets and into an abandoned tank that we had left after the bloodbath, due to a group of militia soldiers carrying RPG-7’s (Rocket Propelled Grenade launcher). We hopped in and found that it was untouched and that it was safe to drive, and also that it was still loaded with ammo. We drove along. One of our privates crawled over to me and asked me a interesting question:
“Don’t you think that there would be IEDs(Improvised Explosive Device) in this area?” Just as he said that an explosion ruptured the side of the tank. We all slammed to our right, and I put my hand to my hand, and I felt a slight drizzle of blood. We hopped out and assessed the damage.
The treads were knocked clean off the gears. The damage was irreparable.
“We better move, we are sort of, well, sitting ducks!” Lieutenant Madge yelled. A few short moments after he yelled those phrases, a brigade of militia soldiers ran into the street. They had probably took notice of the crazy screaming people around the corner.

“Oh goody, MADGE... you IDIOT!!!” our Brigadier General screamed. Then the bullets really came down. About three troops of militia assailants shot at us from the windows. “AMBUSH, run for your li---” Our General fell to the ground in a spray of blood and a bullet in his chest. We ran for cover, and shot up the soldiers in a building, and filed in. We stole the 50cal snipers of our enemies and shot up a few of the soldiers, sending the rest of the militia soldiers packing.



We reloaded and helped those who were injured and picked up those who had fallen, due to the flank of bullets. We sat waiting for a chopper to arrive to pick us up. After a half an hour, we thought maybe it wasn’t coming. We called in and found out that it was coming. We waited for 15 minutes, it came, and it dropped us supplies. It was just about to land when a RPG-7 grenade found its way into the choppers side, blowing it up, and sending parts and the main chassis to the ground killing two more of our men.

I could feel the heat and small metal fragments start raining from the sky, and then I was grabbed by one of my privates and he threw me into the closest building. I could see, in horror, his body pierced with about 50 small pebbles shot like bullets from the still spinning rotors of the plane. He then fell down on one knees, grabbing for his back. He then just slumped over. After my initial shock wore off (about 11 seconds) I sprinted to his side. The ground surrounding the plane was on fire, and I picked him up. I sprinted back to the building and slid in. I heard, to my horror, the helicopter blow up, wiping out all possible survivors from a good 10-15 foot radius and likely mauling anyone from 20 feet away.

We crawled out two minutes later to retrieve the dropped goods and maybe some of the mounted weapons. We still had our technician in our troop, so we dismounted the Vulcan minigun from the side and pulled some more ammo from the wreckage. No one survived. We looked at the trail of the RPG-7 and looked at where it had came from. “We are going to find the son of a gun who shot that,” I said to all my men loud and clear to make sure my message was conveyed. We created a plan to have three snipers covering our flank and 9 of us attack the militia. We got positioned and ran into the streets shooting anything that moved. We shoot three men dead in the first fifty yards.

One of the militia members was willing to talk if we wouldn’t kill him. We walked over and found out that the man that shot it was wearing a red facemask, and he had a dragon tattoo on his left arm. We ran into the streets shooting people to and fro. We ran into their base and killed roughly ten men in the process. We threw a flashbang into the compound and ran in with the joint forces of our regular ground force and our snipers.

We got into another room and shot another five or six before seeing our primary target, making his way into an armored car. We quickly got into another truck and started following. I got on the mounted M2-Browning machine gun and killed the driver in one of the trucks in the caravan. The car crashed, sending down two more trucks. But there were still 3 trucks left. I shot another down. We led the caravan into the alley that we had snipers in. We drove them into the alley. I relayed one message to our snipers, “KILL the drivers, shoot them down!” and about three seconds later I heard three simultaneous shots, and the trucks either stop or rolled on their side.

Luckily our target rolled on its side, most likely killing or maiming all of the passengers. I hopped out of my truck, and walked over to the truck. One man crawled out, wearing a red facemask, and a dragon tattoo smeared with new glistening blood. I walked over and shoved him down. I pulled him up, and I punched him in the gut. He gasped and fell over. I took out my M9 pistol and cocked it. “You know you got nearly got 30 people killed, and another eight killed of mine. You, will die...” I shot him in the head and walked away. “So, where’s the chopper?” I asked my crew. “Well, um... that's complicated, they won’t send one...”

My mind just clicked. We, in the mind of our superiors, are not worth another helicopter and crew. They will not send another helicopter until they are sure that this area is not a potential danger zone for our aircraft. Until we can confirm that we have crushed all enemy resistance, or crawled out of this area, they are going to leave us behind. And since the main bridges leading into this area had either been bombed or mined, we had no chance of getting reinforcements or getting out of here except via air. So essentially we are trapped inside an arena outnumbered and outgunned so badly it is almost hilarious. “Commander, what should our course of action be?” one of my favorite comrades asked.

“Well, we will get no help. We have no exit. So our only course of action is to kill them all. Until then we will not get out of here. So my plan is shot whatever moves except our comrades and stay alive!” I shouted loudly. That was a bad decision. And I noticed it as soon as I heard muffled voices from one of the buildings, and the crackle of a radio.


“RUN, everybody get to cover!” I yelled as I heard the first mortar fire. Two seconds later it exploded and killed one of our engineers. We all scurried into buildings like rats and hid for cover.
About ten mortars rained down, and then a group of militia soldiers ran into the bombed streets. I heard one step on one of his the militias own mines. Lucky for us he was in the middle of the group, and it killed or maimed most of the group. Our snipers ran up the stairs and killed the rest of the group. By the sound of it there were only four left after the explosion.
The militia is not very smart, placing mines and not bothering to mark them. We walk out of the house and into the gory, bright world outside of the dark dreary room we were stuck in for two hours. It was horrible, cramped and hot. But it was better than being dead. We saw the five militia soldiers dead and glistening of new blood.

They were for certain dead.
“This is group alpha zero, do we have clearance to wipe out all enemies?” the crumble of static faded out my last words, but I knew that they knew what I said. “This is base alpha bravo zero, you do have clearence. Your objective is to destroy the enemies so we can land and pick you up. Do you know of any resistance in the area?” “The last soldiers I know of was a militia group that killed or maimed its own group with a anti- personnel mine, so no.” I replied with a tinge of sarcasm, but I knew they would probably say that there was a group a block away, and then get us ambushed, and probably killed. “This is base alpha bravo zero, we have a visual of your group, and a group of soldiers coming your way. Kill them, and then go to sector 5-9 and take out their stronghold rebel base. We will drop you supplies in a minute, but we cannot land. Remember the mission, alpha, out.” and then the crackle of static took over.

“Set up a stronghold in that shop, create a barricade and get our snipers into position, there is a group of soldiers coming our way.” I yelled out to a few of my remaining soldiers. We marched into the shop and made a barricade. The snipers got in position, and waited. The group came like clockwork, down the alley and into our little snare. I saw them right in our line of fire and yelled on simple word, “FIRE!!!” and they did, because as soon as I did the group fell to the ground with multiple bullets in their chests. We all got up and scrambled into the streets to kill any survivors or groups that were following. We shoot two people who were behind their group. I shot another militia soldier that ran into the streets to shot us at random with a machine gun.

He fell to the ground in a bloody spray and a bullet hole in his chest. We ran and repositioned in another building, approaching my final destination. We set up a barricade and set up a machine gun rig to shot all the men approaching us in a quick, effective manner. A soldier ran into the streets, and he was holding a grenade, and he was running for the barricade.

“Set up a stronghold in that shop, create a barricade and get our snipers into position, there is a group of soldiers coming our way.” I yelled out to a few of my remaining soldiers. We marched into the shop and made a barricade. The snipers got in position, and waited. The group came like clockwork, down the alley and into our little snare. I saw them right in our line of fire and yelled on simple word, “FIRE!!!” and they did, because as soon as I did the group fell to the ground with multiple bullets in their chests. We all got up and scrambled into the streets to kill any survivors or groups that were following. We shoot two people who were behind their group. I shot another militia soldier that ran into the streets to shot us at random with a machine gun.

He fell to the ground in a bloody spray and a bullet hole in his chest. We ran and repositioned in another building, approaching my final destination. We set up a barricade and set up a machine gun rig to shot all the men approaching us in a quick, effective manner. A soldier ran into the streets, and he was holding a grenade, and he was running for the barricade.

I quickly ran to the machine gun. I loaded it, but the enemy soldier was ten feet away. He did the one thing that I dreaded most, he threw the grenade at me. It landed a foot away, and my first instinct was to grab it. I dove head first for it. I grabbed it and chucked it back and over the barricade. It exploded and knocked the enemy soldier down. He was only wearing a t-shirt, so I could see the entry point of all the little tungsten fragments. I ran up to him and tackled him. He slammed to the ground, and I turned him over. He smiled. I looked behind him and sure enough, there was a very bad reason he gave me that toothy grin, a full brigade of soldiers ready to ambush our troop. He slumped over dead.

I dived for cover. “COVER fire, help me, AMBUSH! Somebody help!!!” I screamed to my teammates. I saw private Johnson get up and run for the LMG, but he was stopped short by a bullet well placed in his shoulder. He half flew, half slumped to the ground. I ran for him and jumped over the barricade. I shot up half of the enemy line before being shot in the arm. I crouched down. I then grabbed a medic pack out of the dead soldier’s bag. I screamed “someone, medic, anyone!” and then I saw lieutenant Persson run out and dove behind the barricade. I then noticed three heads pop out of the windows, and I heard 50 cal rounds explode into the night. Persson yanked the bullet lodged in my arm out and I felt a searing pain. I saw blood dribble down my arm. Only a flesh wound. I got up and began to mow down the enemy. All of the remaining militia soldiers slumped over dead after about 20 seconds. I could hear one or two of them moaning. I walked over and put them out of their misery with my M-9 pistol. It was a simple execution, quick and easy.It is almost worse for the man with the gun. In fact, it is.

They both slumped over in a pile of gray matter, bone, blood, and other rather graphic elements that even I cringed at. I felt like losing my ready to eat meal, but I have a rather strong stomach, and I have seen worse. I walked away slowly, nauseated, but still well enough to walk. I slumped down in a chair inside of what probably used to be an asian restaurant. Ironic that I would walk right into a place of eating, yet all I want to do is the exact opposite. Maybe a restroom would have been better suited.
When I think about it we have been the least lucky group of marines in the army. We had the last shift before shipping out of this h*** hole, but the the night we were going to leave, the militia shows up again, armed with more ammo and RPG-7’s than ever before. I was sitting on watch, and I saw the first RPG-7 grenade hit our outer wall, if you can call it that, and I watched in horror as a horde of men ran into the courtyard. Twenty of our men were killed in the raid of the fighter-jet platform A-23.
Those savages killed every soul that was in their path. Thankfully most of our men were getting ready for take off anyways, but not our group. We were manning the watchtowers, but it was no use because there were too many of our own men in the crossfire in hand-to-hand combat.

All 5 of our snipers came out and started to kill off the rest of the invaders. One of our snipers was in pure bitter irony, killed by a militia sharp-shooter. We got word that the barracks were under assault, and that we were needed in the main building. All personel except the snipers ran into the main building and helped pile desks and other heavy objects against the doors and windows.

It wouldn’t hold them for long, but it would for a long enough time for most of our soldiers to get out. “RPG-7’s, hit the deck!!! NOW!” we all scrambled to the ground crawling for some cover. two seconds later an RPG-7 hit the wall and sent three to four of our desks flying into our men. It killed 5 men, and injured our Commander. I ran to him and pulled him out. I then passed him to a medic. They went into a room to operate. I went back to putting desks on the wall, and then the walls started to crack...


To be continued...