War's A Bitch, Wear A Helmet:Chapter 5

I slowly opened my eyes, blinking several times before my vision was in focus. There was blackness around the edge of my vision. I ran my hands over my body, checking vital areas for damage. Head, except for a huge bruise growing on my forehead, check. Chest and arms, check. Stomach and legs, check. Manhood, check. Phew. How did i survive a blow like that. But judging by the gigantic bruise on my head, the concussion wave from the mortar blast must have made my knock my head against the rock i was taking cover behind, really, really hard. I looked to my left, and saw Matt banging away with his M240 MG, although us special forces guys could pick any weapon available to us, he still preferred the gun he had trained with. It was his child, so he never let it out of his sight. I wondered why he wasn't using his sniper rifle, the sniper was a long way away. Unless...Shit. They were advancing on our position, trying to eliminate us fully. Damn insurgents. No sense of professionalism. All they thought about was jihad, so they didn't mind dying. Bad thing, there was about a hundred or more assaulting our little hidey hole. I searched around my body for my weapon. Shit. I had left it in the cave when i ran out for fresh air. Great. I was going to have run through the hailstorm of lead to get back to the cave...

'Matt!' I shouted
Matt looked at me questioningly. 'I thought you were out of it man!' He said back, before turning back and giving an unlucky group of insurgents some fifty 7.62 rounds. 'Yeah, anyway, you got a wep I can use? I left mine in the cave!' I said
'Shit man, you serious? Fucking great. All I have on me is this' He tapped his weapon's barrel 'And my Deagle!' He replied, before shooting another long burst. I heard several agonizing screams from down below. I winced before saying 'Fine, anything's better than exposing myself! Slide it over!'
He complied, and slid the pistol over. For all you non-weaponized people out there, a Deagle is short for 'Desert Eagle' a weapon designed in the US, but mostly manufactured in Israel. This particular model that Matt had, was the one that fired the .50 AE cartridge, the same caliber that the M2 HMG uses, and the M82 Barrett sniper rifle, which we use sometimes, for long range and anti material jobs. This thing was a fucking hand cannon. And i usually would have to strapped to my thighs, but i had taken them off for sleep, so they were back in the cave too. Karma's a bitch eh? I peeked over the rock i was taking cover behind, and saw a small group of 4 insurgents walking towards me, about 60 meters away. They were holding AK-47s, and were firing them rambo style, from the hip. You see, most insurgents, except for the military trained ones, especially the Iranians, think it is un-cool to fire away from the shoulder, instead they fire from the hip. Also, they don't control their shots, firing not singly, not a short burst, but on full auto. This decreases they're accuracy even more, so the chances of them actually hitting you from the distance they were at now were very, very slim. Like a celebrity having sex with some perverted nerd willingly slim. So I made sure the hand cannon was fitting snugly, but tightly in my hand. I rested my hands on the rock, brought up my head so i could see clearly down the sight, and aimed at the upper torso of the insurgents'. They noticed me, but still kept firing away from the hip. I fired several times, in quick succession, and saw the bullets impact on the lead man. A huge dinner-plate sized chunk of torso disappeared with the bullets. The guy looked down in disbelief, before he died of not having a heart and upper torso. Simple as that, he didn't die of blood loss, he just died from lack of a heart and upper torso, so i guess it was a form of blood loss...The insurgent's buddies, seeing the damage i had inflicted with my Deagle, they suddenly decided maybe Jihad and 72 virgins wasn't that appealing now. All of them turned tail and ran. 'Run Forrest, Run!' I shouted at them, laughing at my own joke. I didn't realize that one of them hadn't ran, and was still heading steadily towards me,his eyes flaming with rage, mouth open, screaming something in arabic, which translated vaguely to 'Fuck you American bitch dog!' Yeah, not that great an insult, but don't blame him, he probably hasn't had a decent education, like most of them in this godforsaken land. I quickly aimed at hm, and pulled the trigger. Click!. Shit, I was out. And he was steadily getting closer, about 40 meters away now. He broke into a sprint. He was about 30 meters away now. Damn that fucker could run. I glanced at Matt. He was engrossed at shooting at another group of insurgents that were hiding behind a big boulder. I didn't think i had time to ask him, so I looked back towards the insurgent. Damn! He was only about 10 meters away! I pulled out my combat knife. Time to get dirty. I hollered in a war cry, he did the same, seeing me jump up and rush towards me. I just noticed that he had a bayonet on the end of his AK. Crap. Not going to be a breeze like i thought. We were about 3 meters from each-others throats.He thrust his bayonet at me,trying to catch me in my stomach, i dodged past it to to the side. Too early junior. He anticipated this, and as i was coming up to his side, he hit me in the stomach with his rifle's butt. It was like getting punched in the stomach, maybe worse. I wrestled with the urge to puke, and kicked his legs out from under him and put my knee on his chest, pinning him. I moved my arm and held down the arm with his AK in. I looked into his eyes, and saw the raw hatred radiating out from him. A waste of another life, i thought. 'Sorry man' I whispered. Then i brought the knife sharply down onto his neck, severing his windpipe. He was dead within seconds. I yanked my knife out of is throat, now reduced to crimson red mush. My knife was colored in the same way, except from a piece of windpipe stuck on the tip of the knife, i gingerly picked it off, and placed it on his chest. Forget all that bullshit in the movies about people sad about taking another person's life. We do it all the time, i just felt sorry for this guy, because i saw on a chain around his neck that said, translated of course, 'Kabul University, class of '08' on it. This corpse could have gotten a job somewhere, but instead he chose the call of jihad, brainwashed by the recruiters. Damn it. I noticed that Matt's M240 had fallen silent. He must have killed everyone. Hard sonofabtich. I wondered where everyone else was. I'm sure i would find out eventually. After thinking that, i abruptly passed out.