"Schmidt, wake up!" Camp whispered to the sleeping gunner.
The young soldiers lay in the prone under a large 5 ton truck that had been burned to none but a charred corpse of cab on rims during the first few waves of the March invasion.
“Schmidt, wake-the-fuck-up!” He whispered again, shoving Schmidt.
The sleeping solider rolled from his side and onto his stomach, twisting his wrist close to his face in the dark.
“Dude, you’re a buddy-fucker dude!” Schmidt declared in anger, “It’s only 3:45; I still have fifteen minutes until my shift starts! You’re an asshole…”
“Shut’the fuck up dude,” Camp whispers quickly, “Look!”
From their listening point/observation point the soldiers watched the silhouette of a man standing at the side of a road, perhalp 100 meters from a nearby house and not more than 50 meters from their concealed position. The silhouette paced back and forth then stopped.
“Is that him?” Schmidt whispered.
“Dude, I don’t fuckin’ know,” Camp replied, “Throw your NODs on...”
Schmidt felt for his night optical devises in the dark and secured them to his helmet with a click.
“What is he doing?” Schmidt asked.
“I don’t know… see that shit next to him?”
“Ya, ya.” responded Schmidt.
“He walked out with it and set it down all super carefully n’shit. It’s motor round-size at least…... Holy shit look!”
The two solider watched as the silhouetted man now secured a shovel next to him and began digging near when he stopped and set down his load.
“Holy shit” Schmidt echoed in a hushed whisper. “He’s diggin-in a fuckin’ IED!”
“No shit retard… Lets fuckin’ smoke his ass!” Camp whispered now looking at Schmidt through the darkness.
“Dude, what the fuck, let’s at least call this in and…”
“Hell no asshole, I’m not sitting out here another night waiting to spot this prick do what? Lay another round in for another patrol? This is bullshit.”
“Fuuuuuck…” Schmidt whispered long, and slowly.
The two soldiers shouldered their M4 carbines. Stillness set over their observation point.
The cracking of the two .556 rifle rounds erupted in the night’s silence, stunning the two soldiers. The ringing in their ears was matched only by their sense of excitement and breathlessness at the feat. Camp aggressively slapped Schmidt on the helmet and jumped from the prone and onto his knees.
“Dude, fuckin’ center-mass!! Holy shit! Did you see that? That fuckin’ guy dropped like a sack of shit man!”
“Fuckin’ nailed him!” Schmidt yelled, smiling in the dark.
“Coming-in, coming-in!” announced a coming voice.
A third soldier dove under the 5 ton, sliding and hitting his helmet on the bottom of the truck.
“What’d you guys got?” announced the solider.
“Phantom three-seven, Dagger two six, Radio check over” The radio announced within the commotion
“We just nailed that sonuvabitch finally… he’s over there.”
Camp pointed to where the man had fallen.
“Was he diggin’ shit in?”
“Roger Sergeant.” Schmidt answered.
“Okay, grab that fuckin’ radio, we’re gonna’ eyeball this shit!” the sergeant directed.
The three soldiers crawled from underneath of the blackened truck and brushed themselves by the side of the road. Schmidt shouldered a pack that held a radio; Camp inspected his rifle to ensure function ability; the sergeant peered up and down the road in the darkness.
The three soldiers walked in a wide staggered formation in the direction of the man.
“Spread-the-fuck-out,” the sergeant instructed, “if that shit goes off we’re fucked!”
As the troops closed-in on the man the sergeant stopped them with a raised fist.
“Hold up, hold up,” he said, “What the fuck?!”
The soldier stopped and squinted in the direction of the man. He lay on the ground clenching his stomach and coughing foam from his mouth. His breaths were short, and seemed to simply gurgle from his lungs.
“Oh shit! Look at that mutha’ fucker! Fuckin’ dropped ya huh?” Schmidt called out.
“Shut th’fuck up Schmidt, look…” The sergeant instructed.
“Ha! No more IEDs for your Haji ass huh?”
“SCHMIDT, Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
“What?” Schmidt asked in jest.
“Keep spread out! You two hold fast right there….” The sergeant told the two soldiers as he inched towards the man laying in the dirt, “What the fuck is this shit?”
“What is it?” Yelled Camp.
“YOU AND YOU,” the sergeant yelled, “Get the FUCK over here!”
“Phantom three-seven, this is Dagger two six, Radio check, over” The radio whispered from the hand mic.
“Look what th’fuck is over there… ” the sergeant pointed a few feet from the man.
The two soldier cautiously crept past the man, not taking their eyes from him. Both froze is horror, and lowered their readied rifles. No man said a word to the other.
“Phantom three-seven, this is Dagger two six. If you can hear this station provide radio check A-sap.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck… I just lost this guy, I just lost this guy,” the sergeant yelled, kneeling next to the man, “I can’t even do CPR ‘cause the shit just keeps running out from his chest… you two get the fuck over here!”
Camp and Schmidt ran near the sergeant who was holding a swollen medic cloth to the man’s torso.
“You two dumb shits! You see what the’fuck you did??”
“I couldn’t tell … I couldn’t tell,” Schmidt replied, “I thought he was diggin’ in a fuckin….”
“THAT’S A FUCKIN’ DEAD DOG YOU DUMB ASSES!” The sergeant violently screamed at the two soldiers, spitting into their faces as he yelled. He grabbed their helmets and forced their heads in the direction of the small dog lying still near a partially dug hole.
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” said Camp.
“Phantom three-seven, Phantom three-seven… this is Dagger two six, Radio check, over”
“Wait, wait, wait,” The sergeant yelled, “Schmidt, when was your last radio check??”
“God, I don’t even know… it was suppose to be four o’clock.” Schmidt responded, confused.
“Okay… let’s all chill-the-fuck out for a minute, let’s chill out and get this shit together before we get on the horn with battalion.” The sergeant told the stunned troops.
The three soldiers stood in the desert night and considered the scene in their own interpretations. Camp interrupted the stillness:
“Fuck, I can’t... I mean, I don’t know what we’re...”
“Schmidt, you get on that goddamn horn in a minute and you give them a radio check roger?”
“R-Roger,” The soldier stuttered.
“Beforehand, listen-the-fuck up… I’m not taking the heat round for you two’s fuck up. Period! This asshole would’a ended up dead prolly anyways, so I don’t really give a shit. Now, here’s the fucking plan: Schmidt’s gonna calm down and make a fuckin’ radio check, we’re going to police up your AO for brass and any other remnants of fire, roger? Then we’re gonna get the hell out of here! Got it?”
“Wait, wait, wait… Sergeant, what th’fuck are we talking about? Just bailin’?”
“WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT SOUND LIKE CAMP! Schmidt, call-in that fuckin radio check. THIS IS YOUR TWO’S FUCK UP – NOT MINE!” He yelled.
“Dagger two six, Phantom three-seven over.”
“three-seven, two-six, Roger, we’ve attempted COMs for over an hour. Send SITREP, over.”
“What am I suppose to tell um?” Schmidt asked the sergeant.
“Don’t tell um a goddamn thing! Tell um no updates, scanning AOs, whatever… tell um your battery croaked and you didn’t notice ‘till now.”
“Roger… two-six, battery went dead and my station had issues getting the new one to fire up the system. Then I had to reload the key and kept losing the push. Break. We’re back up on COMs at this time and I hear your station loud and clear over.”
“Three-seven, understood. Maintain your hourly’s until your patrols returns to the wire. Tango-Mike. Two-six out.”
“Good. Now, let’s split,” said the sergeant looking back in the direction of the 5-ton truck.
“This is… wait guys, this is soooo wrong on so many different levels,” said Schmidt “I mean, I know I waxed this guy too but this is just… we can’t walk away from this.”
“Schmidt I’m not dealing with this either,” Camp declared, looking to the Sergeant for back-up.
“Fuckin, no way.” Said the sergeant.
“Who’s gonna tell this fool’s family or what if Command finds out tomorrow or some shit? I don’t want to just leave and…”
“You’re not in a position to start crying shit head! This is your fault – not mine!” The Sergeant yelled. “Pick up your shit and lets bail.”
“I agree” Camp stated.
Schmidt unclipped his chin strap and threw his helmet in the sand. The three stood and looked at one another then continued their heated dialog for nearly twenty more minutes. Fingers were pointed. Arms flailed. Heads dropped.
In the distance a man sat petting a small dog. He watched as the three soldiers picked up their rifles and packs and began walking slowly in the direction from where they came. He saw the bodies of a man and a small dog abandon.
One of the soldiers turned back and looked in his direction.
He nodded at the soldier but the young soldier failed to take notice of him or his small dog.
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