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Under Fire&nbsp;The wind blew the smoke down the street, a haze of death and ammunition. The arid air burned our lungs with every breath, and merciless sun beat down from above. We moved through the smoke, weapons low, eyes sharp. The fight was over, but that didn’t mean we were safe. Nothing ever stayed dead in this place. Six months in hell, each day as bad as the one before. We’d all seen more death than any person should ever witness. And we were so tired. Between the explosions and the screams of soldiers we had killed replaying in our heads, it was damn near impossible to get a good rest in. But it was nearly over at least.&nbsp;Behind us, the safehouse we had just cleared burned in a slow, smoldering hush. Glass crunched beneath my boots, and I stepped over a bloodied rifle and a body I didn’t recognise. No one said anything; we didn’t need to. Everyone was thinking the same thing: we shouldn’t have made it out of that one.“Room clear!” called Vance from the second floor, his silhouette pronounced against a broken window. I tapped my radio. “Alpha Two to Command, building secure. No hostiles moving. Looks like we caught them sleeping.”The radio cracked, and Command’s voice came through comms, like it had been dragged through the desert.“Solid Copy, Alpha Two. Birds inbound, two minutes. Dust-off at Grid Seven Delta.”I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. The end was in sight. I pulled my canteen from my vest and took a swig. It tasted like hot metal, but it didn’t matter. It soothed my parched throat. &nbsp;I looked around while we waited for our extract. The men were on edge, but the thought of leaving had eased some tension. Ramirez slumped against a wall, cradling his rifle like a child clutching a teddy bear. I peered at his sunken eyes, and a pang of sadness took hold. He would never be the same again. Diaz checked on those next to him, making sure no one was injured. A good man, always putting himself second, and never seen without a smile on his face. Vance had made his way down from the second floor and made a slow circuit of the street, eyes always scanning, never still.The radio clicked again.“ETA one minute.”I squinted through the haze, trying to make out shapes. There they were. Two Black Hawks thundered through the sky and over the rooftops. Their blades sliced through the smoke and kicked up a choking swirl of ash and sand as they began to descend. We moved quickly, like we always did, like clockwork. &nbsp;The choppers touched down, and we began loading up. Two teams across two birds, standard protocol. I watched Diaz shepherd the men into the first chopper before climbing in himself. I ushered the remaining men into the second chopper and hopped in, with Ramirez beside me and Vance on the door gun. The pilot gave us a thumbs up, and I let out a deep breath as I felt us lift off. &nbsp;The city shrank below us. The heat shimmered off rooftops and alleyways smeared with blood. Somewhere below, the safehouse continued to burn, the smoke spiraling like a funeral pyre for ghosts we didn’t care to name. Vance scanned the horizon, always watching, while Ramirez checked his ammo as if he were expecting another fight. I leaned my head back against the bulkhead and closed my eyes, counting down the minutes until this day was over. The burn of adrenaline began to fade, and exhaustion started to hit like a wave.“You seeing this?” Vance’s voice cut through the air.My eyes snapped open, and I turned my head to peer out the nearest window. A flash from below. A streak of fire.“RPG!” shouted Vance, but it was already too late. The first chopper lit up like it had been struck by lightning. It lurched, and fire erupted from the tail as it began to spiral sickly behind a line of broken buildings.“Alpha One’s down,” I choked, barely hearing myself. Our pilot swung the chopper round and began to dip, “Alpha Command, report,” I said into the radio. “Do we have survivors?”Static came through the radio before Command responded.“Thermal shows multiple KIA. But we have small arms fire coming from the cockpit. Hostiles with heavy artillery closing in fast, one block west. You’ve got five minutes, tops.”&nbsp;Our chopper dropped hard onto the street, landing skids slamming into the concrete with a jolt. I was out the door before it had fully opened, Vance and Ramirez right behind me. The others followed, our boots pounding the ground as we dashed through the streets towards the crash site. Shouting and gunfire filled the air. It spurred us on. A pair of hostiles emerged from a nearby building in front of us, their backs turned, rushing towards the fallen chopper. I didn’t even have a chance to raise my rifle when two shots were fired beside me, and both hostiles fell to the ground. We rushed forward, vaulting over their bodies, never thinking about the lives that just ended in a heartbeat. &nbsp;Smoke thickened as we closed in, and the gunfire grew louder. Closer.“Under fire! On the rooftops!” Vance cried. I snapped my gaze upwards, scanning the tops of the nearest buildings. A man holding a machine gun began to spray bullets down at us. The soldier next to me let out a gurgled scream as bullets ripped through their chest before they hit the ground with a thump. I aimed my rifle and returned fire. The shooter slumped forward, vanishing from view. I rounded a corner, the men of my squad not far behind and saw the crash site barely forty meters ahead of me. Flames licked twisted metal as smoke clawed at the sky. The wreck lay in a cradle of rubble and rock, scattered with the bodies of men I knew. Men I trusted with my life. Men who would never see their families again. Never watch another sunrise. Never laugh or cry or come home. Men taken far too soon. I didn’t have time to think about how their lives weren’t so different from the ones I’d ended in battle. All I could think about was saving the ones who were still breathing.&nbsp;Bullets zipped overhead, and I could see a growing force of soldiers heading towards the chopper. I reached the wreckage and stepped over the first body, unmoving, and its limbs twisted at wrong angles. “Ramirez, check for any other survivors!” I shouted. With hostiles closing in fast, there was no time for the dead. I rushed to the cockpit. Fire burned around it, and I raised my arm to shield my face from the flames. I pulled a piece of wreckage aside and looked at the pilot. Young, far too young to see this much death. Blood soaked his trousers, and he aimed a pistol down the street toward the source of the gunfire, despite a cut on his forehead leaking blood into his eyes.“Vance, cover me!” I yelled as I slung my rifle over my shoulder and reached into the chopper to grab the pilot. He groaned in pain as I hoisted him out and pulled him over my shoulders.“Thank you, sir,” he grimaced. “We’re not out of this yet,” I replied. “Just watch my back, and we might get out of this.”&nbsp;I started to move away from the crash, but lost my footing almost immediately, stumbling on something unstable. I lurched forward, the weight of the man on my shoulders making it difficult to balance. I glanced down at what I had tripped on. Diaz. His lifeless eyes stare into mine. I wavered as I felt my heart stop. Even in death, he was still smiling. I reached out uselessly towards his body with one hand, as if I could somehow fix it. Bullets whizzed around me like a swarm of angry hornets, and the thunder of combat drowned out all reason. But all I could focus on was his face. What was this all even for?“Sir…we need to…,” the pilot coughed. I shook my head, his words waking me from my stupor. I turned my head as the gunfire increased. A grenade explodes nearby, causing a spray of shrapnel to hit another one of our men, who fell to the ground. “Sir, hostiles advancing!” shouted Vance. “We need to move now.”I looked down once more at Diaz and yanked the dog tag around Diaz’s neck free and rose from a crouch. Sadness gave way to anger as I felt the adrenaline kicking in. We had lost too many already.“Vance, Ramirez, fall back,” I said. “We’re leaving now”. &nbsp;With the pilot over my shoulders, I began to rush back towards our chopper as fast as I could. Buildings blurred as my heart pounded. I heard the pilot coughing and spluttering on my back, but he was still alive. My arms and legs burn; my breath comes in ragged gasps. But I keep moving. An explosion of a nearby wall sent a cloud of debris flying into the air as the shockwaves made me stumble. My throat aches as I breathe in the debris and dust kicked up by the blast. The chopper was scarcely twenty meters away – each step a battle. The rotors whipped the air into a frenzy, the engine screaming like a war cry. Ramirez rushed past and into our savior of spinning steel, grabbing hold of the door gun, ready to protect us.&nbsp;One last surge, barely ten steps from salvation, when the round hit. A white-hot razor’s kiss sliced across my ribcage, causing me to falter and stumble off course. My side screamed as adrenaline burned through my veins like lit gasoline. But I couldn’t go down. I feel a hand on my arm as Vance pulls me back to my feet and hauls me inside. The rest of the men followed in quickly, and I collapsed on the floor with the pilot. Someone shouted orders, but it was drowned out by Ramirez scorching the earth with heavier ammunition. The chopper rose into the air, and I touched my ribs to the newest of wounds I had collected. Not deep, just a graze. But close enough to smell the funeral dirt of my own grave. The sounds of the firefight below faded, replaced by the ragged breathing of those around me. A hand clapped my shoulder, grounding me, and I pulled myself upright. Across from me, the pilot we rescued was being patched up by the medic. We exchanged a solemn nod – no words left for what we had just survived. I leant back against the seat with a groan and closed my eyes as the chopper lifted us into the sky. That personal slice of hell faded away beneath us, but the weight didn’t. Diaz’s face hung in my mind, and his dog tag pressed cold against my palm. Just another body we left in the dirt – because war doesn’t let you carry the dead, only the guilt.

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Under Fire

M.Stevens

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M Stevens

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