Fire and rain.

“Primary by 1. Locked.”

“Primary by 2. Locked.”

“Primary by 3. Locked.”

“Primary by 4. Locked.”

“Primary by 5. Locked.”

“Secondary by 1. Locked.”

“Secondary by 2. Locked.”

“Secondary by 3. Locked.”

“Secondary by 4. Locked.”

“Secondary by 5. Locked.”

“Easy, boys, let them get closer. Not until the bridges blow up.”

“Fuck, here comes their air support. Just stay hidden, let them pass above us.”

It was terrifying, seeing about a hundred tanks rumbling through the village at the other side, followed by mechanized infantry carriages. This was but the first wave, recon had told us. Yet, the sheer number of troops awed us. So many against so few of us. Ten clusters of five platoons just separated by that meagre river, spread way too thinly. Each guarding a small bridge. Carefully hidden behind an anti-thermal screen, lying in shallow holes with an abundance of loose shrubs in front and on top of it.

“Snipers, hold your fire while their recon men pass the bridge. They won’t see the mines, we hid them too well for that.”

We saw tiny figures crossing the bridges, but what us frightened more than the discovery of the mines, was the wave of huge, intimidating Mi-28N attack helicopters all across the river. Involuntary I remembered toying with a miniature version of them, when I was a child. And now they were flying above me, searching for some of us to kill, or to make sure the army column would meet no resistance. They were flying low and fast. We sighed out our relief, they hadn’t found us.

But five minutes later they must have found something to kill as we heard explosions a few kilometers behind us. Oh my god, the refugees...

Then all hell broke loose.

Simultaneous all five mined bridges in our area blew up in one thunderous crescendo.

“Fire, fire, fire,” resounded through our headsets, and not a few seconds later I could see the flames burst out of the tubes. For a split moment I thought I could see the missiles flying upwards into the sky, for them after only a few moments to explode upon the pre-targeted tank turrets. It was a true ballet of ****.

The noise of shots fired by our snipers at the recon men drowned in the tumult of secondary explosions within the tanks, blowing up munition reserves. Following tanks stopped brusquely and pure chaos must have made them freeze for a minute.

As soon as the AT-crews reloaded, another wave of anti-tank missiles crossed the distance and a new crescendo of fiery explosions lit up the not so distant sky.

The AT-crews packed up their gear and like children playing ghost under a white blanket, they ran away to their predetermined secondary fire locations. One carrying two missiles, another the AT-gear and a third holding up the sheet as in mockery of an oversized sun umbrella.

I heard the Mi-28’s returning fast, screaming out their vengeance, randomly strafing the forest and they riddled our village with bullets.

It is then that I saw one of our snipers nearby, unrecognizable by his face camouflage, returning too slow, getting into the path of one strafing helicopters. It was crazy stupid, but I could not help myself. In sheer panic I ran towards the sniper and just before the strafing bullets would have killed us both, I desperately pushed him out of the lane of the incoming fire. We both fell to our knees, but quickly I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him up and ran further into the woods. I pushed his head down and forward, forcing him to drop down between roof and earth wall, in a nearby foxhole, on top of other people gathered there.

Adrenaline fueled my foolish actions, barely hearing the explosions not far away in the sky, but just in time to hear the two avenging attack helicopters being downed in fiery balls of fire. It rained metal and fire, and I hastily hid behind a large tree, waiting for the impacts of the wrecks hitting the ground in screeching calamities.

“Secondary by 3, fire. Secondary by 4, fire. Secondary by 5, fire.” Catching my breath I heard through my headphones the remaining fire orders.

“Pack up and run, guys!”

“Our rides are coming in!”

“All of you, out of your foxhole, and run to the LZ’s!” I yelled as I started running from foxhole to foxhole making sure none alive would be left. “Move it! Move it! Don’t forget your backpack, bring your guns! Move it!” I yelled down into each of my inhabited foxholes. In a haze I ran behind the platoons, last to set my foot onto the landed transport helicopter, being hauled in by those already seated, and soon the helicopters lifted off, flying low and very fast to the our next destination.