Are we crazy? (Part 2)

I rose from my slumber about 0600, I rolled of my tattered cot onto the sand covered floor. Laying there I thought about how I have to eat a crappy MRE for morning meal again. I finally got off the sand covered floor and rose to my feet I put on my BDU’s, and my famished desert boots. Caleb was still asleep in the cot next to Dillard and Smith. Dillard and Smith were the replacements that were assigned to echo actual two months ago they were both about 5”9 and had brown hair, though Smith was much stronger and operated our Mk 19 on top of our Humvee. Caleb had grown close to Smith over the last month, they came from the same background and were much alike. The only one who wasn’t still with us was Joran, he got up to run in full uniform and gear, he did it every morning which was why he was built well and had great cardio. I’m a smoker which was why I didn’t have good cardio, but I was a great shot, so in combat I was able to fight well.

         I arrived at the mess tent with Caleb about 0645, and Joran was already there. Caleb and I grabbed an MRE and sat down next to Joran and Dillard.

         “Where’s Smith?” asked Joran.

         “I don’t know but last time I saw him he was sleeping, but he was up when Caleb and I left” I replied.

I stared with a grimace at the MRE placed in front of me, we all sat on a haggard picnic benches, the clipped wood and shaved pieces, which made it a hot bed for splinters, but we’re marines we don’t care about Small things like that, our philosophy was that if you wanna bitch about shit like that join the army. Though we respected the army and there linguistics, but we knew we were superior. Smith came in just then and sat down in front of us, he was staring of into an empty space not speaking.

         “Uhh Smith are you okay?” Dillard asked.

         “Uhh ya” said Smith, “Well” he hesitated . “I just got back from the aid station, it just got 20 wounded, and there all from the village where going to, village Whiskey Golf.

We just starred at him, Caleb and Dillard made a conversation about the possible outcomes of the day, but Joran and I were unscathed by the terrified speech. Joran and I didn’t fear death at all, I actually jumped on a grenade once to save the squad but it was a dud, which made me believe that I am invincible, though it was probably not true, but the fact that I’m 20 and still alive and lived after jumping on a grenade, kind of makes me think so. We all rose to our feet and walked down to the briefing station. The outside of the briefing station was digital desert camouflage, it was the only actual full erect structure built with wood and sheet metal. It was poorly constructed, it had been crudely painted camouflage by a grunt, and the sheet metal was more scrap metal that anything and it had many holes in the wood. The inside of the station was sanded floor which by technicality made it ground. Tattered metal chairs sat in front of a improvised speaking post with a map of Afghanistan in the front of the room, it was about 15x15 feet, we had all taken our seats. The Staff Sergeant took the stand.

         “Okay echo and bravo, here’s the Golf Papa, we’ve received a lot of hostility in the village of Junfar, or as you know it Whiskey Golf, they’ve wounded many Marines and I want echo and bravo to show these hodgie fucks that we’re the most badass technical devil dogs in the whole regiment, now can I count on you?”.

         “OOORAH!!!” we all screamed.

The Staff Sergeant Briefed us on all of the technicalities of our mission, it was basically help the village kill all armed insurgents, which we were going to do, following Marine rules of engagement of course. All of us from echo actual got in our Humvee’s leading the way for bravo. The Humvee’s were all left over hunks of  defecation  from Desert Storm. The engines were constantly needing adjustment the paint was chipped and the sides had bullets holes from both of the wars. Caleb, Dillard and Smith looked scared but Joran and I were pretty content with the assignment. Dillard and Caleb road in the back seat, Caleb’s M249 laid against the open edge of the Humvee window, Dillard held tight his  M16A4. Smith operated our gun torrent which was a 40 MM MK19 which fired an automatic flurry of exploding hellfire, his M249 lay in a small space between Dillard and Smith on the seat below. Joran was our platoon leader so he sat shotgun with his M110 hanging out the window, his M40A3 witch was a true sniper rifle laid underneath his seat. I was the driver, which was strange due to the fact I didn’t have a license when I joined the corps, I was also terrified of car crashes, but when Joran ordered us to leave, I just guess I work well under pressure.

         “alright lets go Marines” Joran ordered.

I gripped the steering wheel looking at my M110 CSR (Counter Sniper Rifle). I had my medical gear grenades and all else on my web gear. I started the Humvee and we began our mission.

                             To Be Continued…