Agreed, thanks!

Aye!  Thanks for the update.

Now, time for Moar!

Thanks for the update. Great read and glad to see the story coming back.

We still in the fight?

it's not shelved, honestly I've been grinding gears trying to get the story going. I have the next chapter written out, but it needs to be fleshed out. My proof readers sent back my draft and told me it sucked, im rushing.

We’re waiting!

I suspect that there are many of us waiting.  <Sits down to get comfortable>

<Gets up, stretches out back, {Snap,Crackle, Pop!}, sits back down>  Still here and still waiting.  How about letting us decide if your work sucketh or not!

I've hit a mean brick wall in writing and honestly haven't tried in a bit. I'll un-fuck that.

When one hits a wall, unless you are 10' tall and green, go over or around the wall.  Not through it!

sorry this one is short, but I'm getting back in the groove. If it isn't on par with previous chapters do tell me please.

With little delay, LT McCeirney gave a single command. “FIRE!”

The response to his command was immediate as the Javelin team took to their feet and rushed to the crest of the hill, the gunner already holding the rocket to his shoulder and preparing to take aim. Private First Class Denny Nguyen, former USMC 0531 Infantry Assaultman ignored the loose shale rock that cut into his knees and shins as he slid into a kneeling firing position, already bringing his Javelin on target. When Nguyen had gotten out of the Corps he had lamented at the fact that he’d never get to handle “his babies” again but here he was, about to lay some hate with them once more. The fact that he was fighting socialists and communists made him proud, they were the reason his family had been forced to leave Vietnam generations prior. If the column could have seen the 5’6” Marine grinning behind the Javeline they would have pissed themselves.
Denny’s assistant had held onto his gunner’s shoulder during the sprint and gave a firm squeeze when they reached the perfect spot. They had both spent many days limping and being attended to by Doc Rios after hours of training back at the FOB. Looking behind them, he made sure their platoon leader was not in the back-blast area.

“CLEAR!”

Nguyen had targeted the BDM just like his commander had ordered, as soon as he had heat signature lock, he yelled out his warning.
“ROCKET!”

With a push of the trigger the rocket was propelled out of the tube and fired off towards its target. Because the team were using the thermal targeting system the Javelin was able to be shot in a “fire and forget” manner, allowing the duo to immediately duck down behind the cliff and relocate.

The rocket came screaming down into the top of the doomed target. The warhead penetrated the thin armor and caused a massive explosion that ignited both ammunition and fuel. Chunks of steel and small pieces of shrapnel shot out in a wide arc as well as a large fireball that rolled into the air above. The shot instantly killed all eight people in it and eliminated one of the many big guns below.

The response from the convoy was immediate and overwhelming as every machinegun and rifle able to point in the direction the shot had come from opened up in a hail storm of undisciplined fire. AK’s fired at the hillside on automatic, emptying magazines in seconds while mounted belt-fed weapons went cyclic. The only thing that registered with the members of the convoy over the sound of their own gunfire was another loud explosion, and then another.
Rounds impacted wildly along the hillside and even more snapped overhead as the suppressed platoon kept their heads down. The overwhelming response from below far exceeded what most of the veterans had ever experienced before, rattling more than a few of them.

Rich had observed his two-man team as they fired, moved and reloaded. There were no wasted movements, no hesitation, and no fear from them. The explosion from the vehicle echoed off the canyon walls and was instantly followed by a second one as the lead tank exploded. 3rd platoon’s Javelin team had moved to position and fired on their target the second they heard the initial launch from the other end of the ridge. The two men manning 3rd platoon’s Javelin took note that all return fire from the convoy was still focused solely on their sister platoon and thus chose to remain in place for their second shot. The time spent practicing reload drills paid off as the empty case from the previous rocket was discarded and replaced with their second and last warhead. Rather than target one of the APC’s at the front the team targeted the other tank in order to take the two heavy hitting vehicles out of the fight.

In less than 30 seconds the rocket was fired, this time hammering the rear T-72 that the duo had picked out, the warhead penetrated the old tank’s hull and detonated the cannon rounds stored within. The resulting explosion blew the turret clean off of the tank’s hull. With both tanks down the Triple Mike had effectively blocked in the entire convoy below.

LT McCeirney risked a second look at the destruction below before making his next move. As he peaked around some of the rocks at the top of the ridge, he was met with a sight that made his blood run cold: a 30MM autocannon aimed at him. The same gunner that had spotted the unfortunate Randy had also seen the initial Javelin launch and traversed his gun to that location. Rich dove for cover as a series of shots were fired, impacting the cliff face above and behind him. The force of the explosions slammed him hard into the ground and peppered him with shrapnel. Rich’s world erupted into a myriad of blurred shapes that spun around him along a high-pitched ringing that seemed to drown out all else. He lifted his head up and immediately regretted the movement as nausea overtook him and he lost control of his stomach, vomiting what little he had eaten all over the ground… but he had to get up and move.

The world continued to spin for Rich as he tried to run at a crouch, his javelin team kept moving to the right though he swore he was running right towards them. Two falls and another vomiting session left Rich sprawled out on hands and knees, unable to control his body. He was unable to do more than try to figure out what was going on and curse himself for not being able to lead his men. Though it had been less than 30 seconds since the cannon rounds had knocked Lt McCeirney to the ground it had seemed to be agonizingly long minutes for him. As he laid there the only thing he could think of was a warning from the Docs after his first bout with explosions and Traumatic Brain Injury: One more good hit could leave his brain scrambled for life. As the sounds of battle continued to envelope the battered warrior, he turned on his side and puked for a third time, noticing the red in it with a detached acceptance.

Thanks for the update. It looks to be "on par" to me.

Looking forward to more...

Thanks for the chapter!

Aye, looks good to me!  It only suffers in length and frequency.  Please keep up the good work.

NOTE: I'm working the fight. It's hard to try and paint a clear picture of so much mayhem. Please let me know if you spot any inconsistencies or issues that need addressing. Thanks for your patience.

Lightfeather recoiled in shock upon seeing his Platoon Leader’s position get hammered by cannon fire. As the dust and dirt cleared, he saw LT McCierney laying flat on his face, but fighting to get to his feet. The tenacity of the downed man moved Lightfeather but it quickly changed to concern. As Rich tried to clear the impact area he looked towards the line, but ran off kilter away from it, stumbling and falling flat again. The back of the Lieutenant’s shirt was peppered with bleeding wounds, but more alarming was the blood flowing down the side of his face. Lightfeather wanted to rush to his Platoon Leader’s side and render first aid but right now he had a more important role to play, he had to lead the platoon.

Richie keyed up his radio to call for a medic. “Corpsman up! Corpsman up! Doc, LT is hit!” “Second Platoon standby to return fire, stay low and use cover.”

Sgt Lightfeather looked to his left and called to one of his machinegun squads, motioning for them to come to him. The noise was so loud he had to yell into the assistant gunner’s ear. “Set the fucking fifty up and focus on the armor.”

The AG nodded; his two squad mates had bitched about carrying the heavy ass M2 Browning along the ridge when the first hustled to the ambush site, but he had known that the Fifty would cut through most of what they’d have to deal with. The Ma Deuce they lugged was the one he considered HIS baby back at the base. He’d maintained the gun with obsessed care whenever he had the chance, even electro-penciling “I AM DEATH” along the top cover. There was no doubt in his mind that it would give them zero issues aside from its weight.

The former Navy Gunner’s Mate might have developed his love for the M2 on a ship, but it did not phase him at all to be working in the woods or rocky mountain terrain, he had grown up climbing and hiking the woods all through the Triple Mike’s area of operations. He ran the short distance back to his crew crouched over, already having a spot picked out for his weapon. His two crew members consisted of a local farm hand they called “Ox” because of his size and strength; the gunner was a man in his early 40’s that was an artist with the heavy weapon. “We are using the Fifty! Ox you and I are lugging this fucker up to the rock outcrop to our left. Focus fire on the APCs. Got it?”

Both men gave a nod, Ox was rattled by all the overhead fire but the demeanor of his team kept him from breaking. The truth was that Ox could carry the weapon and its tripod alone, but it’d be a hell of a lot faster to move and setup with the help. The team, and the entire 2nd platoon waited on the command to make a full attack from the ridge. In order to do so, Lightfeather knew he’d need a lull in the incoming fire, Third Platoon would need to get the attention of the guns below.

“Three Six, Two Seven, over.”

“Two Seven, Go!”

“Six, we are pinned the fuck down, can 3rd grab their attention so we can get online? Over”

“Will do Seven, get ready for it. Two Six out.”

Lt Jake McCoy knew two things, the first being that their ambush had stalled out under the overwhelming small arms and auto cannon fire being sent their way. The second thing he knew was that if the two platoons did not gain control of the fight the enemy on foot below would find a way to kill them. Jake stood up from his position to hazard a look at the situation below then just as quickly ducked back down. Enemy infantry were disgorging from their vehicles to begin a push up the steep ridge using the APC’s artillery for cover.

Jake keyed up his radio to get communicate with his Platoon Sergeant.

“Gunny lets get in this fight, let everyone know to open up as soon as the 240’s do. Focus the armor.”

“Copy.”

Satisfied with the response, Jake moved to his Machinegun squad leader to get the ball rolling. The reports from the enemy fire echoed continuing below made it difficult to talk but the lack of a constant stream of bullets or explosions overhead made communication much easier on his side of the ridge.

“Get both of your teams up on the line as soon as I give the signal. I want you to go cyclic for the first belt, then get those guns talking. We need to take heat off of Second Platoon.”

“Yes Sir.”

Jake slid back to his Radioman for the last step, communicating with the Triple Mike’s headquarters.

“Give a sitrep to Castle.” Without waiting for a response Jake looked up and down the line, all eyes were on him as men readied for a short dash to get into the fight. LT Jake McCoy pumped his fist forward twice, and moved for the ridge, bringing his rifle up as he did.

Awesome update!

Thanks for the updates.

glad you are enjoying them.

"Tanks" for the update!  Please keep it coming!

Thanks for the update!

Hello!, Helloooo! is there anybody in there?

I'm alive, been busy as FUCK lately and havent been able to get any writing done. sorry guys.

I got excited when I saw activity in this thread. Patiently waiting for a update.

You have let "Life" get in the way of providing us here with Entertainment and Story Time!!  Tsk, Tsk!

Actually we understand pretty well and are waiting patiently (well, sort of patiently anyway!)

Life happens, but the moar monsters need feeding

Great story!

Moar please.

Aye! The Moar Monsters are very hungry for more!  Tell the "Life" stuff to hold on for a bit whilst you write some more story for us monsters!

27.

Captain Castleman paced around the TOC with nervous energy. The report from First Platoon had been both a relief and heart breaking. The bridge’s destruction and the heavy casualties inflicted upon the FACA element was news that the Army had been elated to hear, and to them the toll that the platoon paid was not a bad one when looked at by the numbers. But his men and women weren’t just numbers to Leo, they were friends and family. Three dead and seven more wounded, two of the injured were his own blood. Now he had the lives of two more of his units out on the line. Second Platoon had already lost one man in an ambush while heading off to fight an armored column. The hasty ambush plan was less than ideal, and he knew some of the men from the pre War on Terror era had their reservations with the idea of firing rockets from an elevated position; their trained doctrine had been to hit armor from dug in positions at ground level. They’d have to make do.
Leo’s inward thoughts were interrupted by the radio yet again that day. The Radiomen for the platoons had been chosen by Brad himself, who had spent much of his service time lugging around a radio, staying pinned to his Commander’s hip. Brad expected nothing less than excellence from his designated communications experts. He had made it crystal clear that constant communication was key, if the platoon leaders were having to direct every piece of information transmission the radioman was responsible for then it took that leader’s head away from more important tasks. Leo admired just how well of a job his nephew had done with this, The TOCC never seemed to be at a loss of information, nor were they inundated with unimportant data that just jammed up the airwaves.

“Castle, Three Six Romeo, over.”

“Go for Castle.”

“Enemy column engaged; enemy heavy armor eliminated we are working on the APCs. Be advised we are under heavy cannon and small arms fire at this time, will update as situation develops. How copy?”

“Castle Copies all. Give them hell Romeo. Castle Out.”

Bill and Leo made eye contact with each other, sharing a moment of knowing what the other was thinking. Bill was the first to speak.

“We need to get our medical staff and transports on the road cousin, they are getting the shit kicked out of them up there.”

Captain Castleman nodded his head knowingly. “You’re right cousin.” Leo took a deep breath in and let it out in a long sigh as he washed the worry out of his system. He might have left the Jungle and the USMC decades ago, but the ability to stuff the feelings and worry away was something you just didn’t forget. He looked at the handful of men and women around the Operations tent. “Call the local hospital, clinics and the Sheriff for any available first responder, medic or doctor willing to head up to Salmon pass, the terrain isn’t going to allow the Army to land medivac helicopters. And get flatbeds, busses or any other vehicle that can be used to carry casualties moving as well.”

“Yessir!”

Ten Minutes later the town below had pickup trucks and other vehicles headed towards the pass with medical professionals and supplies, ready to help.

Jake rushed up the short distance to the crest of the ridge and dove in to cover, bringing his rifle to his shoulder and aiming down at the targets below. As his men all joined the line, he mentally noted with pride the sudden thunder of gunfire erupting from the Third platoon. The machinegun crews all sent a stream of tracers down towards the convoy, raking up and down the vehicles and the dismounted infantry below. With the knocked-out tanks blocking the road, the BDMs just held in place firing at the source of accurate rockets: the beleaguered 2nd’ platoon. It did not take long for the surviving vehicles to stop firing and begin to turn turrets and adjust their aim though. An RPG screamed towards one of the light armored vehicles below, impacting dead center but Jake cursed as the warhead ricochet off the armored hull… piece of shit commie ordinance!

The constant barrage of belt fed weapons directed at the convoy ended almost as suddenly as it started, the lull in MG fire instead replaced with teams reloading their guns and clearing brass away from themselves. The next step for the teams would to begin alternating the bursts from their guns, a burst from one MG, then the next one, and then the third before the first gun opens again. This helped keep the barrels cool, as well as ensure there was a constant, unending chain of fire from the guns.

As Jake began firing his rifle at individual targets below, he grit his teeth and waited for the heavy weapons to focus in on his men. Their task had been to draw the enemy’s attention to them, and they had certainly done that. His expectation of death was eased by the sound of his sister platoon’s fifty caliber machinegun as it began its distinctive song. Deep and steady beats as the gunner fired off in six to nine round bursts. Jake smiled as he saw the rounds cut through one of the few remaining BDMs. His smile turned to a grin as another was met with a rocket and exploded. The two platoons comprised of old, beat to shit and tired veterans and young civilians had managed to gain the upper hand.

Fantastic, thanks for the update!

I'm glad to see that this one didn't fall by the wayside, it's a good story.

Thanks for the update.

Ox was in awe of his two older gun team members. Neither seemed bothered at all by the roar of battle that enveloped the ridge, quite the opposite it seemed as he noticed their gunner would give Ox a maniacal grin whenever the two locked eyes. The ex Navy guy just seemed to keep a cool demeanor, his stoic look unwavering. Ox looked up to them both, them being former military but he could tell he was accepted, but still the outsider in the sense that he didn’t have a bond that seemed to exist between all the members of the militia. Their demeanor kept him from running, the noise was almost unbearable. But he didn’t want to let them down.

Suddenly the sounds around them shifted, the cracking of rounds overhead, rocks shattering and falling all around, and the feeling of not being able to think straight died off, it had shifted. With this shift he found himself up on his feet and helping lug the heavy assed Machinegun up to place, his Assistant Gunner giving commands on where to setup. In no time flat Ox was rushing back to their starting point to grab belts of ammunition for the M2.

The second the Fifty was set down it was firing, controlled bursts were directed at specific points in each targeted vehicle below. The rounds sliced through the thin armored hulls of outdated machinery, punching first into the vehicle then through whomever might be in the path of the bullet, and then back out again more often than now. The man controlling the gun seemed to be one with the steel weapon, only allowing enough rounds to be fired to do exactly what he wanted done.

The M2. Browning slowly worked its way from the front of the column towards the rear, Targeting the biggest threats and eliminating them with a vicious efficiency. What little small arms fire that was directed their way was quickly silenced by riflemen or light machineguns on the ridge. It did not escape the gunner’s attention that he never needed to pause firing for a reload or to clear a jam, his Assistant Gunner was so attentive to the weapon that he kept the weapon perfectly maintained and ensured new belts were quickly attached to the one currently feeding the gun. The last act of the Fifty was to switch focus from the burning vehicles below to a recently downed tree that a group of invaders had hidden behind for cover. The thick tree was blocking the incoming 5.56 and 7.62 rounds but just like the armor on the vehicles burning on the road, the tree stood no chance.

As calls to cease fire were repeated up and down the line and the noise of battle abated, the sounds of the injured could be heard along the ridge. Some folks openly wept beside fallen friends, others worked feverishly to patch up the injured. Ox’s world seemed to come back to him, along with a horrifying realization…. He had pissed his pants during the fight. Before he could hide his embarrassing situation, his gunner called to him.

“Kid… hey Kid…. OX!”

Ox looked up shamefully.

“Don’t worry about it Kid, it happens to a lot of us on that first fight. You did good today, and now you aint a Cherry anymore either.”

“Thankyou Mr. Witten.”

“fuck that, get rid of the “Mister.” shit. Its either Harry, Witten, fuck-o… whatever.”

Thanks for the update.  I had forgotten about this one.  It was nice to catch up.

Same here, thanks.

The OP snuck one in. I didn't see the last one till now.

Thanks for the chapters!

Same here. Thanks for the update!

Outstanding!!!!!

I couldn't agree more!  Keep it up please!

Great read. Loving it so far.

Yessss!!!!! We got moar reading!!!!

Thanks!!!

Just checking to see if this thing is still on.

I haven't written in a long time, I want to but just haven't had the itch... which is kinda shitty for you guys.

Meh, for what we're paying for this we can tolerate some waiting...


We'll be here when the muse visits you again.

Can we call an Uber to get your Muse to visit?

Are you still in here, OP?

Hullo!! Is there Anybody In There?  Anybody Home?  'Tis a bit dusty in here!

You guys truly enjoyed this huh?
Well, fuck me, I need to unfuck myself and get at it again I see.

Yes please!! Continue continuously!(i.e. MOAR!)

I love stories like this, especially when I'm familiar with the area.