It was regrettable really.
They told us a lie and we rushed in. Like fools in love.
Despite many liberal war movies meant to show the futile nature of war and its aftermath, I was a teen drunk off brew and I made those movies my idol. I would not heed the tears of my mother though in retrospect, they were prophetic.
It wasn't the 65 pound pack that impeded my movements but the extra ammo I was carrying for the M249 light machine gun team.
The Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) was the largest gun in our USMC platoon. And we were expecting to use it today. I was 18.
It's an odd sensation to have that-real humans, other men, are actively trying very hard to kill you. Right now.
Hard to fathom really, until the rounds start hitting objects around you as a man attempts exactly this, your death.
I was in the sand with the safety off and returning fire before I heard the first cries of "contact right, contact right". I have a knack for impending doom. My M16 was singing in 3 round bursts. A symphony of lead.
I could not see my enemy and for all I know my rounds were impacting small children playing in the parlor of the building that was now smoking from the rounds penetrating every wall.
The place was Al-Khafji. A rare and soon to be famous battle of the event called Gulf war I.
I surmised that I was in decent cover but my left was exposed and I took a moment to see how I might improve that when the left flank erupted with small arms fire. The uncanny crack of the AK-47's 7.62mm round is unmistakable. I rolled into a small shed.
The radio man, Scooter, was now next to me and the radio chatter was elevated. Scooter was from Philly and we all liked to pass around the stolen picture of his mom and jerk off to it.
They were close as I could hear arabic words being called out. They were instructional in tone, not like the ones coming from the house next to us which was of men lamenting over a young lifeless female.
Scooter was in my ear. "Narcissus, drop a smoke frag, red. L.T says we got wounded. Choppers incoming"
He said something else about the left flank but I was popping off more rounds at a shadowy figure about 50 yards out. He went down. Did I hit him?
Then darkness. Followed by an explosion that seemed to come from inside my own head and vibrate outward.
My back felt moist and warm and I had the overpowering urge to just take a deep breath and have a nap. Followed by a hint of burning and then...pain.
Scooter was above me yelling but I couldn't hear anything. It was so peaceful, except for the red hot iron someone was apparently pressing into my right shoulder and neck.
The sky, normally choked with oil fire smoke, was so blue. It seemed like miles away a firefight was going on. The soft thuds of some battle raging in a bad place removed from me.
A tornado of wind. Sand in my eyes. The muffled yells of men. My chest heavy from the wind pushing down. The large helicopter now over me.
They kept talking to me, asking dumb questions as we rode thru the air, high above the ground. I just wanted to sleep. So tired. So desiring my bed back home. The smell of my mothers cooking drifting thru the house. The sun low and bright.
I smelled you before I saw you. The distinct scent of a women after months of enduring nothing but sweaty males. I thought I was dead.
"He's going into shock" you said as you looked not only into my eyes but down into my soul, which I thought no longer existed.
"He needs blood, AB negative. Severe loss, neck wound. shrapnel visible"
I have left a tornado's path of wreckage chasing and loving the nurse I knew only as 'Echo'. A women whose scent and beauty has no rival.
N.
They told us a lie and we rushed in. Like fools in love.
Despite many liberal war movies meant to show the futile nature of war and its aftermath, I was a teen drunk off brew and I made those movies my idol. I would not heed the tears of my mother though in retrospect, they were prophetic.
It wasn't the 65 pound pack that impeded my movements but the extra ammo I was carrying for the M249 light machine gun team.
The Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) was the largest gun in our USMC platoon. And we were expecting to use it today. I was 18.
It's an odd sensation to have that-real humans, other men, are actively trying very hard to kill you. Right now.
Hard to fathom really, until the rounds start hitting objects around you as a man attempts exactly this, your death.
I was in the sand with the safety off and returning fire before I heard the first cries of "contact right, contact right". I have a knack for impending doom. My M16 was singing in 3 round bursts. A symphony of lead.
I could not see my enemy and for all I know my rounds were impacting small children playing in the parlor of the building that was now smoking from the rounds penetrating every wall.
The place was Al-Khafji. A rare and soon to be famous battle of the event called Gulf war I.
I surmised that I was in decent cover but my left was exposed and I took a moment to see how I might improve that when the left flank erupted with small arms fire. The uncanny crack of the AK-47's 7.62mm round is unmistakable. I rolled into a small shed.
The radio man, Scooter, was now next to me and the radio chatter was elevated. Scooter was from Philly and we all liked to pass around the stolen picture of his mom and jerk off to it.
They were close as I could hear arabic words being called out. They were instructional in tone, not like the ones coming from the house next to us which was of men lamenting over a young lifeless female.
Scooter was in my ear. "Narcissus, drop a smoke frag, red. L.T says we got wounded. Choppers incoming"
He said something else about the left flank but I was popping off more rounds at a shadowy figure about 50 yards out. He went down. Did I hit him?
Then darkness. Followed by an explosion that seemed to come from inside my own head and vibrate outward.
My back felt moist and warm and I had the overpowering urge to just take a deep breath and have a nap. Followed by a hint of burning and then...pain.
Scooter was above me yelling but I couldn't hear anything. It was so peaceful, except for the red hot iron someone was apparently pressing into my right shoulder and neck.
The sky, normally choked with oil fire smoke, was so blue. It seemed like miles away a firefight was going on. The soft thuds of some battle raging in a bad place removed from me.
A tornado of wind. Sand in my eyes. The muffled yells of men. My chest heavy from the wind pushing down. The large helicopter now over me.
They kept talking to me, asking dumb questions as we rode thru the air, high above the ground. I just wanted to sleep. So tired. So desiring my bed back home. The smell of my mothers cooking drifting thru the house. The sun low and bright.
I smelled you before I saw you. The distinct scent of a women after months of enduring nothing but sweaty males. I thought I was dead.
"He's going into shock" you said as you looked not only into my eyes but down into my soul, which I thought no longer existed.
"He needs blood, AB negative. Severe loss, neck wound. shrapnel visible"
I have left a tornado's path of wreckage chasing and loving the nurse I knew only as 'Echo'. A women whose scent and beauty has no rival.
N.
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