Doug: Fire Team Tactics.

I can’t think. My head is a fog of exhaustion and used up endorphins. The last tickles of adrenaline keep me awake, but barely.
Music blares from a speaker somewhere.
“So I keep in mind/ when I’m on my own/ somewhere far from home/ in the danger zone…”
Random muscles cramp; sending fiery lances up and down my body, competing with the soreness that can only come from the kind of physical rumble that includes throwing yourself to the deck to avoid enemy fire, real or imaginary.
My eyeballs hurt, a new experience for me.
Somewhere in the fog things begin to come back.
“Form a hasty 180!”
“Contact front!”
Hit the deck, cover your field of fire, return fire.
“Enemy covered at 50 yards!”
Wall, probably light concrete, 5.56 will go right through that. Assault’s coming next, tense your core, get ready to move. Fifty yards is a long way to rush over open ground. We’re going to lose someone.
“Prep for assault! Buddy rushes on my command!”
How many rounds have I fired? Where are my spare mags? A 203 Mike Mike would be perfect for this. Hopefully the SAW guy can keep the Enemy pinned down while we rush.
Rush!”
Up and moving, I can’t see the bullets but I can sure as Hell hear the gunfire reports. Move five yards and dive for the deck firing all the way.
“I’m up… taking fire!” pause while diving for deck, no time to catch breath. “I’m down!”
I’m down is the signal for my buddy to move up and advance past me, leapfrog style. He runs five yards past me, and hits the deck, still firing.
“I’m up! Taking fire! Down!”
Shove myself off the deck, run forward, still firing. I can hear the ‘diemotherfuckerdie’ chatter of the SAW somewhere off to my right.
“Up! Taking fire! Down!”
Hit the dirt hard, lucky it’s soft mud, I can feel the ice cold water shrink my balls up to the size of rasins. Weird how things pop out at you while doing this.
“UpTakingfireDown!”
Intervals are getting shorter, we’re bunching up again. A lucky grenade could kill everyone in Fire Team Bravo. In the periphery of my vision I see Larry hit the deck hard and not get back up.
“Uptakingdown!”
Winslow’s yelling something, but my brain’s been bounced around too much to understand very well. He repeats it louder.
“Enemy Down! Consolidated 360!”
The point man, me, makes a run for the northern position, covering any further threats from that direction. Down on the deck again hard; don’t want to be a target. Kneeling guys make great pink mist videos.
“You’ve got 9-3!” a hand slaps me on the ass, letting me know I was the one he was talking to. Tighten grip, look up and over the sights, avoid tunneling, everything moving is a potential threat.
I hear Winslow assign Bergman’s area, 3-9 on the flip side, two guys covering 360 degrees. Not enough. No word on Larry, Winslow’s still doing ACT Eval.
“Report.”
My voice is hoarse from yelling. “Four mags. No personal injuries, Three enemy probables.” At least that’s how many I thought I put down.
Winslow doesn’t verbally acknowledge my report. He just slaps my shoulder and I keep focusing on that menacing vegetation. I don’t relax until…
“Good afternoon Staff Sergeant, MIDN 2/C Winslow reports enemy eliminated, misson objective secure. 14 total mags, 1 KIA, and 7 Enemy combatants killed.”
“Very well. Stand at ease. Exercise is concluded.” SSGT Poaster’s friendly voice belies his profession: death, destruction, mayhem.
I relax just as Bergman yells, “You hear that Larry? You’re dead!”
“Fuck you.” I can hear Larry mutter as he pulls himself out of the mud puddle he fell into after he was “killed”. “It’s not my fault SSGT Poaster keeps wanting to kill the gunner’s assist.”
Poaster’s grin is evil. It is the third time in four exercises that Larry has “died”.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. But the fog comes back. I wake up, dirty, wet, uniform soaking my sheets. My feet feel like they’ve been beaten with bamboo canes. I try and wiggle my toes, but can’t. I look down.
I didn’t even have the energy to take off my boots.
My head hits the pillow again and I’m out.
-Doug
“What do you call this position again?”
“Death grip.”
“That’s not ominous at all.”
MIDN’s Wood and Larry, discussing proper grenade throwing technique.