“Victor-Two copies. Standing by.”
White double-checked that he had easy access to the AT4 rocket launcher, the hand grenades, and the extra ammunition he had carried for the M240B. He then settled in behind his weapon with a deadly coolness born of years spent in combat zones. He knew what was about to happen. He had experienced it before. Many times. Too many times. He would kill his enemies, and he would do so without even the thinnest bit of regret for the combatants in his sights. No longer human, the ISIS fighters were simply brutes to be slain.
Tracking the technicals with his M240B, White saw them slow down considerably about two hundred meters before the bend. The thrill and anxiety of impending combat gave White the adrenaline rush he had come to expect. He focused on breathing normally, keeping his breaths even in and out, so that he could hold the front sight of the M240B just a little higher and to the left of where he wanted the first round to hit.
“Victor-Two, this is SCAR-One, engaging in three, two . . .”
White wasn’t thinking anymore. He was in his bubble, his mind clear of any doubt. He applied the necessary pressure to the trigger, and the M240B started to chew through the belt of ammunition. The machine gun’s bark bounced over the countryside as the steel-jacketed rounds found their targets. The bullets hit the side of the lead technical, punching through the door panel and killing the driver and two of the combatants seated in the bed of the pickup truck. By the time the gunner standing behind the .30-caliber machine gun realized what was happening, White had worked the muzzle back toward him and unleashed a two-second burst. White watched his tracers disappear into his target. The lead vehicle, now without its driver, came to a stop. The driver of the second vehicle stomped on the brakes just as the Pave Hawk appeared over the hill across from White’s position. The door gunner opened up with the minigun, casting the side of the helicopter in bright orange, rounds and tracers lashing out relentlessly at the ISIS convoy. White smoothly transitioned to the AT4, bringing the rocket launcher up to his shoulder. He took careful aim at the third and last vehicle. Its driver, who was in the process of backing up, was doing his best to create as much distance as possible between his vehicle and the Pave Hawk. White observed the ISIS gunner manning the DShk jerk the heavy machine gun’s barrel upward to meet the chopper. Since the AT4 was a recoilless, preloaded weapon system, White had only one shot. He had to make it count.
White and the ISIS gunner fired at the same time. White knew for sure that at least one of the ISIS combatants aboard the third vehicle had seen the plume of smoke behind the rocket, but it didn’t matter. The 84 mm rocket traveled the distance in the blink of an eye and slammed into the side of the technical, transforming the vehicle and all its occupants into a rolling fireball. White let go of the rocket launcher and turned his attention to the Pave Hawk. To his horror, the chopper had been hit. White wasn’t sure if it was from small arms fire or the DShk, but the Pave Hawk had started turning erratically, black smoke trailing behind it.
White swore, the enormity of the moment taking hold. His plan was quickly falling apart. Rounds suddenly chewed into the boulder to his right, sending him back to his M240B. Even though the Pave Hawk door gunner had pulverized the first and second technicals and had cut down many ISIS fighters with effective fire, White still counted half a dozen combatants armed with rifles and rocket-propelled grenades. And by the look of it, they were quickly getting organized into two groups of three men. That wasn’t something White could allow to happen. At a ratio of six to one, they’d flank him in no time.
The first ISIS group sprinted north alongside the road. White drew a bead on them and fired three short but accurate bursts. Two men fell. The third man dropped to his belly and rolled to his right until he was out of sight behind a medium-size rock a few feet away.
While White was engaging the first group of ISIS fighters, the second had taken the opportunity to retreat behind the cover of the lead technical. Two men from the second group opened fire, their rounds slapping the air above White’s head. He was about to return fire when he spotted one man hoisting himself into the bed of the technical. White swung the M240B in his direction and pulled the trigger just as the man reached for the .30 caliber. White’s rounds punched the would-be gunner in the chest and neck, knocking him back. Before White could take aim at the two remaining ISIS fighters, a fiery streak of light coming from his right grabbed his attention.
RPG!
The grenade exploded behind him less than forty feet away. Then, as if working in concert, tracer rounds fired by the second group began to whistle to his left and right. The two ISIS fighters behind the technical had zeroed in on his position and were pinning him down. To his right, the man who had fired the RPG was reloading. White didn’t take time to aim, he just unleashed a long burst of his machine gun and continued to keep pressure on the trigger until he saw the RPG gunner stagger backward. The man fell on his ass, accidentally triggering his freshly reloaded launcher. The RPG exploded at his feet. Only his boots, with the man’s feet still in them, remained. Before White’s lips could curl into a smile, a new barrage of 7.62 rounds peppered the earth and rocks around him. White turned his head toward the lead technical just in time to see the intense red glow of yet another RPG.