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When the going gets tough... we leg it!
"War Stories"
A collection of short war stories from our up and coming, budding author Pte Dodsley (is there anything this guy can not do?)... enjoy
I only had time for one thought as I trudged trough the muddy depths of the moors, clenching my weapon close to my heart, so close I could feel the metal sinking into my chest, following my instinct turning my eyes 180 degrees, and as the cold was awaking my hands with tearful pain, seeing my hands turn to a septic red. I bite my hands with disbelief, looking and feeling intimidated my left hand switches my weapon from single shot to fully auto feeling more better about me, (crack) I heard the snap of a twig eyes as frosty as an ice lolly in the south pole, searching, it was quiet so quiet that you could hear my hands squeezing my G8 machine gun so tight as I waited, as far as I was concerned my pain was nothing compared to what was about to happen, looking over to my right shoulder shit I thought I was f****d as I got ready to make a swift attack, I realised my Sarge was telling me to get ready instantly I thought let the little buggers come I've got enough bullets hear to send them all back to Vietnam, Now this is it I thought my heart was pumping now as I lined up my sights ready and waiting it echoed through my mind my leg started to move trough with nerves came my own defilement of courage still waiting, I noticed a figure move to the wall "BASTARDS!" I shouted out, that was it now easy compromising balls to that I thought as I slammed the trigger to me as hard and fast as I could the machine gun was like a mad dog on a leash it shuck me as I struggled to get a grip of my weapon I held it down to feel the full enjoyment of this high calibre weapon, by this time I found out that more were advancing from the left and the right F**k this I thought I had enough of sitting down or laying down in this case, I stood up and I felt the machine gun let a rip on who was ever out their, I was in a world of my own now no one could stop me. I was pissed off as I saw them trying to make shots at me, I still stood my ground firmly, (click) shit I'd done it now I ran out, my Sergeant (what a guy!) ordered me to pull back, as I did so a bullet flew right past my ear. Hearing it screech brought back lots of memorise about the wars and the pain all before hand, I ducked instantly, Sarge laid down a wall of suppressive fire, I called it 'banshee' because it was one loud mother fucker, I ran under a bridge to help give me a little time. But time was not an my side Sarge ordered covering fire very clumsily I droped some bullets "for gods sake" I said, the Sarge turned to me and said
"No blassperme here private".
As I was forced back into the under growth of a moor side. I held my shotgun with pride, I was laying their with my arms and wrists aching feeling very venerable. I decide to move to a more better and closer position for then I would have a better chance at the enemy, but I failed to grasp the premise that only a group of 4 was heading right my way, typical they must have known that it was me as I steadily and slowly risked my head up they were very adamant about getting me done first. I looked back at my Captin "Fire!" he said with fired eyes and a voice with presence to match I got up and cocked back the shotgun biting my lip so hard it started to bleed I started then to move slowly to wards the group of enemy, stalking forward, this did not last long as the mist turned to smoke, I was forced to fall back and retreat looking back at my Captin he had gone, vanished from sight oh bugger! I thought.
