toward Machado's last position, trying to lure Machado into a direct confrontation. These bastards aren't pussies, Machado thought, as he moved ninety degrees to the right.
The Taliban, surging with adrenaline, ignoring the intense pain from his wounds, yelled for Allah's help, and ran over the top of the rise. Firing quickly, spraying the area with automatic weapon fire.
Machado rolled to his left, firing back, catching the guy in the left shoulder, spinning his body. The weapon continued to fire as the Taliban spun down to the ground.
Two rounds caught Machado. One bullet passed through the lower leg muscle, the other through Machado's upper-right shoulder. The rounds exited without hitting any bones. Neither was fatal, as long as he stopped the blood flow, but they were painful.
Machado fired once more, killing the Taliban fighter.
Machado knew he needed to get back to Corporal Sanchez and Gunny Scotton. If they were dead, he did not want the Taliban defacing the bodies. If they were wounded but alive, he did not want them captured.
Using his field medical kit, he wrapped his wounds as best he could, slowing his blood loss. Once he was back with the other two Marines, he would do a more permanent job.
As he worked his way to a position, he spotted two more Taliban setting up a mortar. Taking them both out, he made his way to the mortar. Machado lobbed a few rounds into the surrounding hillsides before dropping a grenade into the mortar tube, rendering the weapon useless.
Returning to his original approach, he peered over the top and saw Sanchez, with a compress field dressing on his shoulder, putting a splint on Gunny's leg. Making his way down the slope, he counted fifteen dead Taliban.
"Will you look at this Sanchez, the fucking prodigal Marine returns." Gunny Scotton smiled, looking at Machado, "Where the fuck have you been while we were killing these bastards?"
"Killing the rest," Machado replied.
The Marines tensed as the sound reached them.
The mortar has an unnerving sound, deep and guttural. One feels it as well as hears it.
You know the round has left the tube. You can run. But which way? If you run back, and the trajectory is long, you are dead. If you sit still, and the bastard knows his stuff, you are dead. You make yourself small as possible, a part of the earth, and hope...
Machado regained consciousness.
He heard the sound of the wind; but there was no wind.
He saw Gunny Scotton lying on the ground next to Sanchez. He tried calling to them. He could not hear his own voice. Just the whistling sound of the wind.
Machado started to move toward the two wounded Marines. With each motion, he felt searing pain. From his shoulders to the small of his back, he felt as if he was on fire. Reaching back, his hand returned covered in blood.
Painfully making his way to Sanchez, he checked for a pulse, it was weak, but he was breathing. Gunny Scotton began to stir and tried to rise up. One hand torn to pieces, covered in shrapnel wounds from his feet to the top of his left shoulder, and his right eye swollen and distended.
Sounds slowly returned. He heard more rounds incoming.
Crawling toward Sanchez, spitting blood, Scotton ordered, "Go find that mortar, Sergeant, I'll take care of Sanchez, if they fire with the same trajectory again we're screwed."
Machado made his way toward where he thought the mortar was set up. Gambling the guy would be firing a pattern out further from his position, trying to bracket the Marines. He heard another round, and it gave him a fix on the position. The round arced further east, giving Machado the opportunity to focus on killing the bastard and not worrying about his two friends.
Rising slowly to the top of the rocky tableau, he caught sight of the mortar. There were five Taliban. Two were operating the mortar; the other three were in the process of setting up a DsHK 12.7mm machine-gun.
They were trying to lure the Marines back to their position, get them to attack the
The Taliban, surging with adrenaline, ignoring the intense pain from his wounds, yelled for Allah's help, and ran over the top of the rise. Firing quickly, spraying the area with automatic weapon fire.
Machado rolled to his left, firing back, catching the guy in the left shoulder, spinning his body. The weapon continued to fire as the Taliban spun down to the ground.
Two rounds caught Machado. One bullet passed through the lower leg muscle, the other through Machado's upper-right shoulder. The rounds exited without hitting any bones. Neither was fatal, as long as he stopped the blood flow, but they were painful.
Machado fired once more, killing the Taliban fighter.
Machado knew he needed to get back to Corporal Sanchez and Gunny Scotton. If they were dead, he did not want the Taliban defacing the bodies. If they were wounded but alive, he did not want them captured.
Using his field medical kit, he wrapped his wounds as best he could, slowing his blood loss. Once he was back with the other two Marines, he would do a more permanent job.
As he worked his way to a position, he spotted two more Taliban setting up a mortar. Taking them both out, he made his way to the mortar. Machado lobbed a few rounds into the surrounding hillsides before dropping a grenade into the mortar tube, rendering the weapon useless.
Returning to his original approach, he peered over the top and saw Sanchez, with a compress field dressing on his shoulder, putting a splint on Gunny's leg. Making his way down the slope, he counted fifteen dead Taliban.
"Will you look at this Sanchez, the fucking prodigal Marine returns." Gunny Scotton smiled, looking at Machado, "Where the fuck have you been while we were killing these bastards?"
"Killing the rest," Machado replied.
The Marines tensed as the sound reached them.
The mortar has an unnerving sound, deep and guttural. One feels it as well as hears it.
You know the round has left the tube. You can run. But which way? If you run back, and the trajectory is long, you are dead. If you sit still, and the bastard knows his stuff, you are dead. You make yourself small as possible, a part of the earth, and hope...
Machado regained consciousness.
He heard the sound of the wind; but there was no wind.
He saw Gunny Scotton lying on the ground next to Sanchez. He tried calling to them. He could not hear his own voice. Just the whistling sound of the wind.
Machado started to move toward the two wounded Marines. With each motion, he felt searing pain. From his shoulders to the small of his back, he felt as if he was on fire. Reaching back, his hand returned covered in blood.
Painfully making his way to Sanchez, he checked for a pulse, it was weak, but he was breathing. Gunny Scotton began to stir and tried to rise up. One hand torn to pieces, covered in shrapnel wounds from his feet to the top of his left shoulder, and his right eye swollen and distended.
Sounds slowly returned. He heard more rounds incoming.
Crawling toward Sanchez, spitting blood, Scotton ordered, "Go find that mortar, Sergeant, I'll take care of Sanchez, if they fire with the same trajectory again we're screwed."
Machado made his way toward where he thought the mortar was set up. Gambling the guy would be firing a pattern out further from his position, trying to bracket the Marines. He heard another round, and it gave him a fix on the position. The round arced further east, giving Machado the opportunity to focus on killing the bastard and not worrying about his two friends.
Rising slowly to the top of the rocky tableau, he caught sight of the mortar. There were five Taliban. Two were operating the mortar; the other three were in the process of setting up a DsHK 12.7mm machine-gun.
They were trying to lure the Marines back to their position, get them to attack the
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