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Flashback – Ben and Jack – The trip to hell ... on the way to the Hospital

We followed the Butterbar to the river and climbed into a waiting SURC. I made sure to stow my Eberlestock pack where it wasn't going to get wet while the Butterbar looked at me and asked, "I hear you have a hell of a rifle in your pack."

Damn, I sure didn't want everyone under the sun knowing about my rifle. It was bad enough someone leaked to the fucking towelheads we were coming and they already had prices on our heads. Now I had to worry about some fucker taking my new rifle.

I sighed and lied, "It's an okay rifle but I sure as hell wouldn't get that excited over it."

Jack ruined my lie when he spouted, "Banzai is being modest, it's a hell of a rifle..."

I kicked Jack and gave him the hand signal to shut the hell up.

The Butterbar commented, "Well, I just hope you're carrying something besides a bolt action rifle. We will need some firepower as we clear the building across from the hospital."

I assured him of the obvious, "Don't worry Sir, I have an M4. I pointed at the M4 hanging around my neck on a tactical sling."

Jack swore, "Banzai, I don't know how you can stand those damn mouse guns. You need to carry a real rifle like my M25."

I teased the hell out of Jack, "An M4 works fine if you can shoot well enough to hit where you aim. Besides with the weight of my sniper rifle's ammo, I need to drop weight somewhere and M4 ammo weighs much less than M25 ammo. Hell a full mag of my ammo only weighs 1.14 pounds while your M25 magazine weighs 2.3 pounds - plus I have 10 more rounds in my magazine."

Jack counters, "But when I shoot one of the fucking towelheads they go down with one shot..."

The Butterbar interrupted, "Sgt. Reynolds you mean insurgents. We don't call them offensive names such as towelheads."

I could tell Jack was feeling his oats when he answered...

Hells bells! No wonder this fucking war is going so damn badly for us! We have pussy-assed officers like this Butterbar.

I grinned at him and answered, "Excuse me Sir! Perhaps you would like it better if I called them sand niggers."

The Butterbar glared at me and threatened, "Sgt. Reynolds, I could write you up for that comment."

I countered, "You sure the hell could. However I know Colonel Maggie and she'd laugh your ass out of her office if you did that." Then I figured I needed to smooth things over with the Butterbar so I continued, "Seeing as I don't want to offend your sensitive feelings, I will call them insurgents or tangos from now on."

Banzai was grinning so I knew he had something on his mind when he said, "Not me! That's not what I'm going to call them."

The Butterbar focused on Banzai and asked, "Sgt. Blaine what are you going to call them,"

Banzai's almost patented shit eating grin appeared and he loudly answered so everyone could hear, "I think I will call them D-E-A-D!"

That got the rest of the squad fired up, they began to laugh and cheer. The Butterbar glared at them so the celebration was short lived.

We passed under a bridge which had several sand ... excuse me insurgents standing on it. The Butterbar freaked out aimed his rifle at them and Banzai cautioned before he fired, "Sir, you don't want to shoot the fucking, worthless, lame-assed insurgents"

The Butterbar said, "Sgt. Blaine drop the adjectives, they are just insurgents and why wouldn't I want to shoot them."

Banzai continued to grin as he answered, "Sir, the 'just insurgents' aren't paying any attention to us right now in this SURC. However, if you shoot at them it will only piss them off and then we will be targets for every 'just insurgent' from here to our point of departure."

The Butterbar wondered, "Are you certain about this?"

The Marine driving the SURC replied, "Yes Sir! Sgt. Blaine is correct. So far the insurgents don't feel the SURCs are a threat and we'd like to keep it that way so please don't fire at them."

The driver continued, "We're about two clicks from your departure point so get your men ready."

I had a pretty good idea that the shit was going to hit the fan as soon as we headed toward the building across from the hospital. I readied my M25 and my 1911 and watched as Banzai did the same. Banzai suggested to the Butterbar...

It was good to see that Jack and I were on the same page since he started to ready his weapons. I pulled up my M4 made sure it was ready, checked my 1911 then looked at the clueless Butterbar and suggested, "Sir, not to tell you your job, but you should have the squad lock and load."

The Butterbar wisely listened to my suggestion and ordered, "Marines, lock and load."

The sound of M4s being SPORTed1 throughout the SURC was music to my ears.

1 SPORT – Slap, Pull, Observe, Release and Tap

I threw my Eberlestock pack on my back, loaded my UOP pack on my front, and crouched in the bottom of the SURC.

Jack looked at me and passed me some hand signs: Yeah, we both recognized we were working with a green as hell Butterbar. We both also realized it was up to us to keep this squad from getting killed. I acknowledged his hand signals then Jack ordered, "When we hit the beach, Banzai and I will exfiltrate first and set up a perimeter; the rest of you follow when we signal. Make sure you stay low and move fast to find cover beside us."

Thank God the Butterbar didn't try to countermand Jack. The SURC hit the beach, one of the crew opened the gangway and Jack took off running. I paused in the front of the SURC, covered him with my M4 and yelled, "Next Marine off come beside me."

Jack made it to cover, I looked at the LCpl. that came up beside me and ordered, "Each man needs to cover the next man off the SURC like I did with Jack. Now cover my ass and whatever you do don't fucking shoot me."

He looked scared, which was good, and answered, "Yes Sergeant."

I hit the gangway, ran toward the other side of the beach, found a good cover, looked back and motioned for the LCpl. I noticed the Butterbar was next in line after the LCpl. and was surprised: If he was willing to get so close to the front he might actually end up being worth more than the powder it would take to blow him to hell.

The LCpl. headed toward Jack and made it okay; I looked back and motioned to the Butterbar. Just as he hit the gangway, a fucking towel ... excuse me insurgent, popped up, the Butterbar stopped running and began to fire his M4. He missed but Jack smoked the insurgent's, ass while I frantically waved for the Butterbar to keep running. Some rounds hit the SURC which helped to motivate him to move his ass. He ran toward me, came up behind my cover and said, "Thanks."

I swore and instructed, "Shit! Don't ever stop moving again unless you feel like fucking dying. The fuck ... excuse me, the insurgents can't shoot worth shit at moving targets."

The firing Jack and the Butterbar started had succeeded in waking up the insurgents and we were beginning to take some fire from one of the taller buildings. I grinned at the Butterbar and said, "It's time for me to do the voodoo I do so well."

I reached my hand over my shoulder, loosened the cover of the Eberlestock scabbard, pulled out my new rifle, locked the suppressor on the end of the barrel and slapped a mag home in it. I popped the lens caps up on the scope, found one of the towel ... excuse me insurgents, in a window, loaded a round and smoked his ass.

The Butterbar commented, "Damn that was a nice shot and you didn't even range him."

I located the next insurgent, and replied, "Anything closer than three hundred meters doesn't need ranging." This one was a head shot and I gloried in the exploding head and the red mist in my scope.

The Butterbar updated me, "We're all off the SURC."

I replied, "Good, now watch Jack and do what he does."

I knew without looking that Jack and the rest of the squad with him were taking random turns popping up above the cover and firing at the insurgents. The Butterbar ordered, "Okay we're going to do this in order..."

I had just taken care of another insurgent and interrupted with a suggestion, "Sir, you don't want to do that in a set order or the insurgents will figure it out. Give each man a number and then you call out the number when you want them to return fire."

I was shocked again when the Butterbar listened and ordered, "Okay men you heard the Sgt. -count off."

I found the next fucking insurgent, just about the time some rounds danced off the log in front of me. I ducked and swore, "Son of a bitch! Get the rest of this squad returning fire."

The Butterbar started calling off numbers, the squad was popping up and giving them hell. With the fucking insurgent's taking some more fire from our position, they dropped down where I couldn't see them anymore. I stowed my sniper rifle in the Eberlestock pack and suggested, "Sir! We need to advance and get the hell off this beach. We're going to do this just like we did getting off the SURC. I will go first while you all cover me, then each man will leapfrog after me when I signal. First everyone give me a long burst to make sure the insurgents stay behind cover."

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Sep - 2 - 2002 Captain Maria Tallfeather leaned back in her padded chair, and glanced at the secondary screen. It showed the last ship of the refugee convoy escaping into hyperspace. As she adjusted the sling holding her broken left arm, a few strands of her curly brown hair drifted down in front of her eyes. The air was thick with smoke, as the crew rushed to put out the few electrical fires that had flared up from the damage her ship had taken. Turning back to the main screen, she saw...

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The next afternoon he met with the varsity basketball team while his JV players did foul-shot practice at six backboards, just two shots at a time. "Who's the captain?" he asked them. They looked sour, unhappy, dispirited, one of those, maybe more than one. He knew he had to do something, something quick. He had expected anger and found dejection. "OK, Scott, you're a senior aren't you, so you're it, you're captain at least for now. Objections? "We're going to practice on Tuesdays...

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