slivac wrote:**Out somewhere in RC South Afghanistan**
It was another one of those days. Well, as far as spending the better part of a year in a dry dessert is concerned anyways. Could be worse I suppose… could be- that is if I wasn’t stuck here out at an ANP (Afghan National Police) checkpoint. Trust was one thing, but it meant anything and everything up to and including where you slept with no more than twenty ANP at a time, when it wasn’t all too uncommon for Blue on Green fire (friendly fire), there was a point where being nervous got one nowhere, and you generally accepted what was going to happen. Perhaps that was the mindset in having inner peace; confiding in the things that you could control and leaving the rest as it was.
“Hey, Sliv. You’re up,” Hanning said from above to the hyena below.
“Alright,” he said with a sigh, placing the book he had been reading off to the side in his assault pack. Not being much a reader beforehand, but now, out in the middle of a dessert, gave him ample time to develop such new hobbies, or to just kill time in general. The dusty multi-cam dressed hyena hopped up into the hesco barrier, pulling the radio mic, and setting it into his chin strap. “God damn flies!” He growled, waving a paw at them and trying to scatter them as best he could. It was going to be noon before too long, and that’s when the flies got really bad. He took a brief glance at his watch seeing as to the hour coming by: ‘0800(8:00AM)’.
“Hey, Hanning. Did you do a radio check?”
“Nah, man. Forgot before I called you up,” the otter said peeking his head out from a sideways dug hesco, seeking to get in a nap in whatever shade he could make.
The hyena sighed, holding the head-mic close. “Able Mane. Able Mane. This is Red Eagle. Radio check. Over.”
He radio beeped with every trafficked transmission before going silent.
“Read Eagle, this is Able Mane. Read you Lima Charlie (Loud and Clear). Over.”
“Roger that, Able Mane. Read Eagle out,” the hyena acknowledged before putting the radio back on standby. They had been doing radio checks every two hours, as they had been dropped off a day prior at the ANP checkpoint. Assigned as an SK (small kill) team for a five day mission at a consistently attacked checkpoint, that in and of itself was surrounded by large hesco’s and outer laying roll of constantina wire about five feet out from the walls. A man was always on radio watch in two hour shifts; two on, six off, with the others filling in wasn’t bad. Guard shifts could have been worse with fewer men, but with only four of them there was to be no room for error. Sliv, for the main part, readjusted the belts of ammunition beside him that laid across a wooden board. Some would say it would be best to keep in an ammo can, but he had his preferences. Nine hundred rounds in total, cut into 150-200 belt lengths. He had done this so he would be able to remember in his head, should he ever have to fire, how many rounds he had fired and how many he had left. Make the belt any longer and it might catch on something or mis-feed. The hyena was assigned as the machine gunner while Specialist Hanning, the otter, was assigned as the spotter for the sniper team. His shooter being Sergeant Zeir, and the rifleman also armed with the m320 (larger version of the m230 grenade launcher: AKA noob tube). He was the one who also handled all the flares, smoke, star cluster, and what not used for various purposes to signal Able Mane, which was the COP (Combat Out Post) about five Kilometers out (about three miles). They could see the COP from where they were, but it was still a good 15 minute drive through the dirt paths and culverts in the MATV’s and MAXX Pro-Dash.
Before he knew it, his shift was up. It always paid to have a wandering imagination to kill time. That, and cigarettes, which, come to speak of it, he was beginning to run out of. Sergeant Zeir arrived, relieving the hyena. The large zebra hoisted himself up on into the machine gun nest, taking hold of the radio. “Hey, Sliv. You got a smoke on ya?”
“Yeah. Here, Sergeant,” he said, handing him a few to at least last his shift. They were the shit tasting Haji cigs, or “Pine Lights” as they were called. All the local nationals smoked them, and at five bucks a carton, one could certainly see why.
“Thanks,” he replied, relining back and looking out into the open fields. Sliv sighed, rolling back onto his cot just below and to the side. He was damned sure when he found out he was going to be coming here and the hyena sure as hell wasn’t going to be sleeping on the packed ground with who knows how many of the ANP might have relieved themselves there (in more ways than one). He growled to himself, rolling onto his back using his wubby (camouflage blanket) as a canopy to keep out the sun as best he could. But, even with avoiding the direct sunlight, catching any sort of shut eye in 110 degree weather was near impossible. But somehow he managed.
Then it hit.
“Ah, shit!” he uttered jumping up from his cot, getting tangled in the wubby for a moment and then tossing it to the side as his ears rang, not able to hear the shouts around him. A RPG had hit the hesco behind him, covering the area in a white misty smoke. Throwing on his body armor and Kevlar, the hyena was pissed now having been woken up in mid-sleep on the hottest part of the day. “Fuckers would attack now!” He growled, charging the 240 and sliding the charging handle forward. “I’m going, Red Sergeant!” He shouted to the side where the sniper team laid sighting in where it had come in from. That’s when it started pouring in. High pitched zips and zings came overhead. “Green zone. Green zone! They’re firing from the green zone!” Slivac shouted pointed over to brush that was about fifty meters out in front and to the right side of where they were.
Slivac reached over picking up the hand-mic. “Able Mane! Able mane! This is Red Eagle! Over.” He said trying to remain as calm as possible, feeling his heartbeat through his voice.
“Red Eagle, this is Able Mane. Go ahead.”
“Able Mane, this is Red Eagle. Roger, contact. Small arms and fire and RPG’s from the green zone one hundred meters over.”
“Roger that, Red Eagle. QRF is fifteen minutes. Over.”
“Acknowledged. Follow-up in five mikes. Red Eagle, out.” He turned towards the others and roared out. “QRF is being spun up! Fifteen minutes!”
He turned, seeing movement from within the treeline and putting in several good bursts, drowning out the ANP AK’s going off around them. The hyena snarled as a round glimpsed off the edge of the hesco beside his paw, sending back a longer burst seeking to suppress fire somewhat.
“God damnit, Slivac!” Sergeant Zeir yelled at the hyena. “I can’t shoot with you fucking the dirt up from the ground! PID-(positive Id)! Get PID--!“ He fell backwards as a RPG connected with the wooden pole holding up part of the canopy, throwing another large plume of white smoke and flesh rending shrapnel. Somehow it had completely missed the prone Sergeant Zeir.
“What?!” Slivac yelled back between bursts. He saw the sergeant wave a paw at him in a whatever type motion.
Slivac turned his head back the other way, catching more motion. “Shit!” he gasped, seeing through several small holes in the koala wall (dried mud wall, essentially) about fifty meters directly out in front. “They’re at the fucking wall! The wall! Shoot the wall!” he hollered back. “Reloading!” he yelled right after ducking down and snatching another belt, lifting the feet tray cover and slapping in a fresh belt. It was all muscle memory; a fluid motion in the most chaotic moment.
“Here! Shoot!” The zebra called from below, tossing him a loaded 320 grenade launcher. The hyena stood silhouetting himself, flicking the front sight post up, but forgetting the rear sight post, as he eyeballed it, switching from safe to fire and squeezing. The timing couldn’t have been better, as while he hadn’t seen the round leave the barrel, he saw an insurgent come out into the open from the other side of the wall. The back-half of his neck disappeared spattering out in a red mist; the head lurching up and forward smashing his own nose into his lower chest still hanging by the front neck skin and muscles.
“What the fuck was that?!” Sergeant Zeir yelled, looking up from his scope at the hyena.
“I don’t know, guess the rounds gotta spin for fifty meters before it’s hot.”
“God damn!”
Nearly fifteen minutes had passed now and the firefight wasn’t letting up. If anything, it seemed like it was getting heavier. There was a lot of enemy movement from the water irrigation canal along the right side that acted a lot like a trench. He could see the heads and turbans bobbing between the brush. He did his best to send a few rounds just off the top of the rocks, but saw little, if anything, he might be hitting walking in the rounds.
“They’re in the culvert! They’re in the fucking culvert, and moving north!”
Slivac had to duck back down as several rounds came whizzing by. The concussion from the incoming RPG’s was becoming like a smoke screen, almost as he could hardly see out more than from where they were.
“Able Mane, this is Red Eagle. Spot report follows. Over.”
“Red Eagle, this is Able Mane. Send it.”
“Roger. Heavy contact from my three o’clock, moving to the five o’clock with harassing small arms fire from my nine o’clock. We are bei--“ he gasped looking over into the field where the trench was. There were shadowy figures moving and then appearing in the clear, running with AK’s at the hip.
“Hadj in the open! Hadj in the open! Open fire!”
He dropped the hand mic, bracing the 240B atop the Hesco, fully exposing himself from all sides and letting loose.
“Shoot those mother fuckers! There they are! Shoot them, god dammit!” the zebra yelled from his side, raising his M4 and throwing it on burst. (In the Army, the regular issue rifle, be it either M4 or M16A2, only came with semi-automatic and three round burst. One was taught for controlled accurate fire and so the three round burst was never trained. So when one goes from semi to three round burst burning through a magazine in ten trigger squeezes, you knew shit was hitting the fan.)
“Reloading!” The hyena called out. Feeling his breaths coming in slow rapid movements, but he still had complete and utter control. Indeed, this was the reason behind the non-stop drill and training: muscle memory. He yanked up the next belt and slapped it in. The hyena’s ears flicked as the Optic Sight (M145) jumped up off from the top of the feed tray and bounced off his chest. “The fuck?!” he almost said before seeing where a round had hit, right in-between where the sight had connected to the cover to the weapon itself. It wasn’t like he was using the sight anyways.
“Able Mane! Able Mane! This is Red Eagle! Where is QRF?! Over!”
“Red Eagle, this is Able Mane. QRF is in contact approximately 2 clicks from your position.”
The hyena cursed, tossing the hand-mic to the side knowing what it meant, not bothering to listen to the rest of the transmission.
“Sergeant Zeir!” he yelled out. The sergeant looked up no longer using the sniper rifle for single rounds, but instead now utilizing the iron sights with the optic cast aside. “We have been cut off!” He yelled making slashing motion across his throat. “QRF has been cut off! We’re on our own!”
“Roger that!”
A large explosion caught the hyena’s attention, coming from the direction of the dirt road leading to the COP. A large plume of dust painted the air as the smoke bellowed. The black smoke that followed. He knew what that was.
“Flash, flash, flash! Able Mane, this is Blue! Four contact small arms fire with rpg’s three o’clock, break- blue two has hit an IED!” The radio traffic said coming in from QRF, which was third platoon (Blue element). That was the sealed deal, and where the hyena figured out this was a planned attack: They were going to overrun the checkpoint.
The hyena charged the weapon again, as now they came pouring out of the woodwork, running towards the checkpoint. He pulled the trigger and didn’t remember ever letting go until something hit him hard in the chest. It was an explosion of near blinding pain for several moments as he took a step back, but pushed back up against the hesco barrier. It certainly knocked the wind out of him. It was then that Slivac realized he had been shot but, still he refused to even acknowledge it.
“I’m out!” Hannis yelled, to which the hyena hopped down from his perch with what remaining ammo he had left and dove for the main entrance and steadying himself at the only entry point into the checkpoint. Screams fell on deaf ears as he continued shooting. Round after round the smoke rising from the barrel was making it too hard to see now. He coughed on the fumes, knowing the barrel was spent but in no place to be able to change out the barrel.
It was becoming especially evident as the rounds were cycling at a slightly lower rate. “Gah! Damn!” the hyena snarled, lowering his head as he caught one of the attackers across the chest and detonated. The area was covered in a red spray making it rain for just a few seconds. He knew he must have hit one with a bomb vest on and triggered it somehow. Still they continued to push forward, getting closer and closer. Each time a vest detonated, the immediate area clouded in a white smoke with a slight pinkish color obscuring what the hyena could see. The explosions thumped hard against his chest and body, feeling as though one was using a sledge hammer against his lungs. Another resounding blast threw him against the back inner wall fifteen meters behind him, feeling as though a thousand needles splashed through his face and chest before the world went black.

This piece was done as an apology gift to  Slivac for messing up on the anatomy on his previous commission. The story that he wrote/sent me is based off of something that actually happened to him on his tour in the Middle East.

story ©  slivac
art ©  kaze-breeze-katakage

ALL IMAGES AND ANIMATIONS ARE COPYRIGHTED TO ME. DO NOT USE OR DISTRIBUTE WITHOUT MY OR THE COMMISSIONER'S PERMISSION!