Turn 4 - Fire and Ice

The temperature had dropped after sunset, and the east wind was starting to pick up again. Most of the people on the street were huddled in doorways, or moving to find shelter, although a hardy few were taking the party outside. A few lights were visible here and there, but they gave off little warmth to the darkened street. Most of the buildings had blackout curtains covering the windows, the occupants painfully aware of the threat across the river. The town's streetlights had not been turned on in years, they wasted precious electricity, not to mention making Hood River a bigger target than it already was.

Sarah took Bill's arm as they exited the Coho, and started to make their way west down the street. "It's just a few blocks this way", she said. Sarah suddenly stopped, and turned to look Bill in the eyes, "Now, I don't want to give you the wrong impression, I'm not asking you to spend the night. But I didn't want you to think I was running off either, I really was planning on heading home about now."

If Sara could see Bill's face in the limited light, she would see him blushing profusely. "Ah, bu.. Hey, I never intended to stay the evening. I mean.. well it's not that I wouldn't like to.. it's well.." He stammers, flustered, grasping for words... then paused for a second to compose himself.

Sarah looked up, as the sounds of motors could be heard. "Huh, now that's odd," she said as she looked to the east. A small convoy could be seen making it's way down the main street in front of the Coho. As the convoy came closer, it became clear that there were four vehicles, a Humvee mounting an M60, a Chevy Blazer SUV that had been repainted in a woodland camo pattern, a Deuce and a half, filled with soldiers, and leading the pack, a LAV-25. The vehicles moved slowly down the street, picking their way along the old pockmarked road.

Bill studies the convoy for a moment. "Yeah, it is odd." The tone in Bill's voice indicated a step up in alertness. "Come on, let's go and get out of the cold." Bill takes her arm again. He's beginning to enjoy this. Feeling relaxed and comfortable. 'Heck maybe there is a future' he thinks, as he turns his back.

The rest of the soldier's comments would never be known. The Caddy exploded, it's front half disappearing in the blast. The LAV's armor peeled like tinfoil, as shrapnel whizzed through the air like angry hornets, cutting down bystanders like a scythe. The blast knocked the LAV on it's side, the concussion shattering windows for blocks around.

Bill's instincts kicked into overdrive. "Oh shit... COME ON!" Bill grabbed Sarah around the shoulders, putting his body between her and the convoy, just seconds before the bomb goes off. He tried to shield her as he is driven/dives to the ground over her as the explosion erupts.

From across the street, a man rushed forward, tossing a bundle underneath the truck at the rear of the column. Seconds later, it exploded as well, flipping the truck in the air like a child's toy, killing most of the soldiers in the deuce instantly. The M60 on the Hummer opened up, cutting down the bomber as he ran for cover. Flaming debris rained down, even as gunfire erupted from both sides of the street, intent on finishing the job.

Sarah screamed, frozen in terror, as the street, peaceful just moments before, became a vision of Hell. Burning debris eerily light up the scene, bodies strewn about the street, wounded soldiers howling in agony, bullets ricocheting off of vehicles and buildings. The town of Hood River had been instantly transformed into a battlefield.

Bill fired at the Uzi-wielding "soldier", his .45 barking twice. The first round hit his target in the arm, the second entering his gut. The impact drove him back, but he managed to stay on his feet, and returned fire. The 9mm rounds went wild, coming nowhere near Bill and Sarah. Bill fired twice more, with one round going wide of the target, but the other hit him dead in the chest. The soldier was knocked off his feet, the Uzi clattering as he landed on his back, not moving. Sarah ran west, heading for the corner of the Coho.

Bill jumped to his feet as the Uzi gunner went down, running to follow Sarah as she rounds the corner of the Coho, to get out of the target area. She's but a few feet in front of him as he rounds the corner. In the light of the blaze from the car bomb, Bill saw the new threat firing at the back of the Coho, and grabbed Sarah's arm. "Wait!! Across the street," he said, as he pushed her in the westerly direction, around the south side of the burning vehicles.

Inside the Coho, the blasts rocked the building on it's foundation. Bottles and glasses shattered, and people were thrown off their chairs. Many thought it was another artillery attack, and shouts of "Incoming!" were heard once again. The second blast cut off the electricity to the bar, and in the darkness, chaos reigned. Papa, and some of the others, struggled to light hurricane lamps filled with kerosene, to give some light to the panicking patrons. They scrambled to the exits, choking the doorways with bodies, some of whom were trampled under the crowd's feet.

With the explosion. Ramsey looked for his people. Seeing George McIntyre, his first Sgt. "George get the men that are here." Then louder, "All right men, grab what you have. I want a 360 security of this place. Charlie company get the front. I want officer and command NCO's here at the Bar. Lets move, people." Ramsey moved to the end of the bar to get the people. He watched as things developed. "George, what's going on outside? Give me a sitrep." Ramsey said, while thinking, "Shit!"

The 1SGT shouted back, "Roger that! Charlie Company, form on me!" A couple of soldiers tried to make their way top the bar, responding to the call, but it was like salmon swimming against the current. Most of the soldiers hadn't heard the 1SGT, the shouts from the various officers and NCO's, the sounds of panicked men and women, and the screams of those being crushed by the crowd, drowned out any hope of communication. The doors to the Coho swung inward, and they were held fast by the press of bodies against them. It was something that would never have been allowed under the fire codes in the old days for just this reason, but in this new world it made them easier to bar against attackers. Fate had played the patrons a cruel joke.

Risov crouched, unslung his M16/M203 and chambered a round. "Carter, keep your *&%-ing head down. That Captain is calling for C Company. Well, I'm in A Battery, and your in B Company right? So whaddaya say let's go secure the back door. I know the way. And keep your eyes open for LT Smith. Can't help but think... ah never mind. Ya comin'?"

"I'm behind you, Risov." Carter followed only because he wasn't sure what else to do. He could hear Charlie company being called, but well, he wasn't Charlie company. He couldn't see Sergeant Johnson either but the Coho was pandemonium, hard to spot anyone in particular. Looks like I'm with stuck with Risov again... "I can't see Smith either."

For the moment, Risov and Hughes seemed to be the only ones who were making their way to the back door, other than the kitchen and bar staff, most of whom had bolted after the first explosion. Papa saw them as they went behind the bar, and immediately realized what their plan was. He bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Everyone, to the back door!", hoping that the change of direction would ease the pressure of the crowd. As for 1LT Smith, he was nowhere to be seen.

Carter looked at the back door then at Risov's M16 with the M203. "After you, Jack, could be some bad guys outside." Carter adjusted the Luger in his belt, he shrugged his shoulders, "I got no ammo for it. Hey, I didn't know we'd be attacked....." he answered in self defense.

Carter shook his head. He was a bit dubious at running out into a firefight armed with only a knife. "No thanks." he replied, "Once we get back to base I'll get my rifle and then we can find out what the Russians are up to. Don't worry Risov, I'll be right behind you all the way."

The chaos inside the bar grew more intense. The battle-tested soldiers were no longer part of an Army, but a panicked mob. Despite CPT Ramsey and SFC McIntyre's attempts, no one was paying them the slightest bit of attention. The shrieks from those being trampled were added fuel to the fire. SFC McIntyre grabbed CPT Ramsey by the arm. "Screw this, Cap, they ain't listening. Time to di-di. We don't get out of here, we're dead meat." He started shoving Ramsey towards the back door, while pulling his .45 from it's holster.

The ward was filled with wounded men from the mornings artillery barrage. Most of the medical personnel were on duty, the Colonel's 24-hour pass hadn't applied to them. Intelligence types might be able to carry a weapon and man a guard post, but they weren't qualified to tend to wounded soldiers. The men and women on duty were frazzled, the huge influx of wounded that morning had strained their resources, both medical and personal, almost to the breaking point. Nurses and Medics moved from patient to patient, changing dressings and checking IV's. A few could be seen curled up on the floor here and there, desperately trying to catch a few moments sleep before they were needed again. That they were able to sleep at all, surrounded by men moaning in agony, said how exhausted they all were.

"...so scared, Mama. I don't want to die." The young soldier's voice was low and wet. He'd been one of the men close to the fuel dump when it exploded and was horribly burned over most of his body. The flames had seared his upper lungs and lymph was leaking into them, slowly drowning him in his own immune response. Angelica was perched on her heels by the edge of the cot, a piece of paper balanced atop an empty dressing box. He'd asked her to write to his mother for him. Her pencil scratched, slowly forming words. He was dead already, she knew. They lacked the facilities, medicine, or time to even attempt to save him and the others so badly wounded. They'd all been placed off to the side, in an area called The Tombs, and given what painkillers the hospital staff could spare.

"... James wunts you to no, she wrote in her labored hand, "that there ain't no pain." The moaning of the man and his ineffectual writhing to escape the agony of laying on burned flesh shook the cot and her pencil traced a jagged line on the paper. "He is talking about you, his Madre, and wishes he could see you again. He says sorry he can't be there for your burthday." "Oh, God don't let me die!" "And he says he will see you in Hevun with Jesus." The young man, like so many before him, finally stopped living. His body relaxed and the last breath escaped the ruin of his lips. "I'm sorry, Mrs..." she leaned over and pulled his dog tag out, then copied the name carefully, "...Stallworthy but James has gone on now. The soljers who brung him in said he was very brave and was a real hero." They'd said no such thing, merely hauling him in with the others, glad it wasn't them and trying to forget that the crisp, screaming thing had once been their friend. "I don't no if he will get a metal, but he was a good soljer. I am sorry he died but it was peasefull and there weren't no pain. I have to go now, Mrs. Stallworthy. Sincerely, Angel" Angelica folded the paper twice and tucked it in a twist of his dogtag chain. The people in Graves Registration would see it got sent back for his next of kin.

A hand on her shoulder made Angelica look up. A gringo nurse with railroad tracks on her collar, Angelica guessed she was one of the senior ones because she looked pretty old, looked tiredly down at her. "Come on, private," she said not unkindly, "he doesn't need you anymore. I want you to-" Angelica never knew what the nurse wanted because the muffled thump of an explosion, more felt than heard, which was quickly followed by a second. A glow could be seen coming from the town, roughly a mile or so away to the SE. The wounded became agitated, some howling with fright, fearing the Soviets were attacking once more. Doctors started shouting orders, while the Nurses tried to calm the men. Rifle fire could be heard coming from Hood River now, sending the men into a frenzy. Some tried to get out of bed, while others started yelling that they were under attack.

SSG Gideon, one of the senior medics, ran to the window and peered out. Since he wasn't diving for cover, Angelica figured it was safe. He was a real veteran, and she'd learned to trust their instincts more than her own. The nurse moved off rapidly, trying to calm the confused mess the ward had become.

Gideon grabbed a field first-aid bag, and tossed it to the nearest available person, PV2 Angelica Brijalba. "Come on, Angel, there's wounded out there. Grab your K-pot and sidearm, you're going to need them." He grabbed a Medic's Kit for himself, as well as a flak vest and helmet.

Angelica caught the field kit automatically and rose when he ordered her to grab her gear. Quickly she picked her helmet up off the floor and forced it down over her hair, a thick piece of it hanging down her forehead before she pushed it up into the internal webbing. She was still wearing her belt with the M9 holstered on one side so didn't need to waste time hunting for it. "Okay, Sergeant," she said and moved in a trot behind him.

Angelica took the time to grab a few wool blankets from a pile set up by the triage area. April in Oregon wasn't bad during the day, but it got chilly at night. Besides, the comfort of a blanket was useful to a wounded man, and they could always be made into rough stretchers. Or cover the dead, but you tried to not think about how many sightless eyes the blankets had covered in their time.

Gideon jumped into the driver's seat, and fired up the engine. As soon as PVT Brijalba got in, he floored it, racing towards town. Angelica plopped onto the thinly padded seat, more an idea than any actual comfort, and hung on for dear life as Gideon drove it out of the camp towards town. The wind was cold as it blew past and she wished it was safe enough to let go of the frame for long enough to put one of the blankets around her.

"Goddamn officers", he muttered to himself. Angelica nodded, then grabbed her helmet with one hand to keep it from falling off. "Pinche cabrons," she agreed, her tone leaving no doubt that what she said about them wasn't polite, no matter if Gideon knew what it meant or not.

"Okay, Sergeant," she replied, "I will. I'll do my job," she promised. She was scared, of course, but fear was something you just had to deal with; like lack of sleep, gringos, or the weather. It couldn't be changed so you didn't waste time fighting it. Fear just...was. Angel slipped the strap of her helmet under her chin so it wouldn't fall off. She stuck her head out of the side of the Humvee to look towards the town. "You think the Reds are attacking, or just some arty, Sergeant?" It didn't matter, but conversation always seemed to take the edge off. If you could talk about something, you could face it.

"Ai! Slow down or we're not going to get there," she chided, as the Hummer hit a pothole and lurched first down then back up, throwing them both off their seats then slamming them painfully back down. The Humvee continued to race towards the town, tires spitting mud in their wake.

The rifle fire was getting louder the closer they got. A machinegun could be heard now, it's deadly staccato in time with the sound of screams being cut off in mid-voice. The fiery glow was brighter as well, the flames throwing eerie shadows that danced on the buildings nearest to them.

Gideon's eyes darted left and right, as he eased his foot off the accelerator. "We gotta to find a place to park the Hummer. Close enough to the action that we can load the wounded, but far enough away from the line of fire so it doesn't get blown to pieces." He spotted an alley a block or so from the action. He pointed it out to Angelica, "Over there," as he pulled the Hummer in.

He looked around as he switched off the engine. "Damn it, that's right in front of the Coho." He grabbed his Medic kit, slinging it over his shoulder by the straps. With the other hand, he pulled a sawed-off pump shotgun from underneath the seat, jacking a round into the chamber in one fluid motion. He turned back to Angel, "Keep your head down, and follow me." In a crouch, he started to sprint over to the firefight around the corner.

There was no sound in the world quite like a shotgun being shucked. It was heavy, oily, mechanical, and oddly comforting. Sure a rifle round did more damage at a greater distance, but something about the gaping maw of a shotgun muzzle and the hail of shot it flung out made you glad to be behind someone carrying it. Angel tucked the blankets under her right arm, leaving her weapon hand free to get at the M9 if need be, and waited as Gideon moved out. Once he was about five meters ahead, and looked to be heading for a new position of cover, Angel followed. She might be relatively green but she'd learned that in combat you were safer spread out. Herds of soldiers were just juicy targets and attracted bullets like a debutante drew dance invitations.

...body prepares itself when faced with danger. Heart rate and respiration increase to carry oxygen rich blood to muscles for the coming work. The adrenal glands release their cocktail into the blood stream to accelerate the reflexes. You begin to sweat, both to cool the body and to act as a lubricant between your limbs. In the male the scrotum contracts and pulls the testes up into the abdominal cavity to better protect them. The hair at the nape of the neck and on the arms prickles erect, like a dog's ruff, in an atavistic response. The stomach contents often regurgitate. In extreme cases the bowels and bladder will spasm and empty themselves. This reduces the risk of infection in case the abdomen is perforated...

Angel didn't know then, and still didn't, what an atavistic response was, but she knew that more soldiers crapped and pissed themselves than people would think. Combat was not pretty. So her stomach clenched tight, she sweated, her hands shook from the jingle-jangle of adrenaline, and the hair at the nape of her neck stood to attention like so many soldiers at inspection. And she was scared. Angel knew all too well what bullets and shrapnel did to a body. But she had a job to do, so she focused on keeping up with Gideon and kept here eyes open. Ahead, the screams of the wounded and the rattle of weapons fire continued.

Risov listened to the firing, crouched down with his M16 at the ready, and approached the corner of the Coho, scanning for targets. As he neared the corner, he switched the rifle off to his left shoulder, and poked his head and muzzle around the corner, sweeping out an arc.

The ambusher was armed with an AK-47, but was at a disadvantage, his attention was concentrated on what was left of the convoy, and had his back to Risov. The first round from Risov's M16 impacted at the base of the ambusher's skull, taking off the top half of his head in a split second. His body stood there for a moment, and then crumpled to the ground. Risov pulled back behind the corner to take cover, just as CPT Ramsey and SFC McIntyre came up behind them.

"Well here. It only has the 6 rounds in it." Ramsey says pulling a .357 snub nose from his coat pocket. The absence of a hammer makes it look even more lethal. "George, who've we got with us?" Ramsey looked at the man with the M16, and read the name tag. "Risov. Give me a sitrep of what you saw. And did you hit anything, or just attract attention?"

The panicked mob inside the Coho finally managed to get the front door open, and burst onto the street. The M60 gunner on the Humvee, startled at the sudden new sound, whipped the machinegun around and fired. The result was devastating. The densely packed bodies were shredded like newspaper. The crowd desperately tried to reverse direction, but for every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction. The people outside were trying to get back in, and the people inside were still trying to get out. The result was a standstill. The machinegunner, after seeing his convoy obliterated, had finally cracked up. He was laughing, crying, and screaming, all at the same time. His finger was welded to the trigger, and the barrel was starting to smoke, as he continued to pour fire into the Coho's front door.

"Is the convoy completely tapped?" Then with the screams toward the front of the Coho, Ramsey whips around. "God, Damn IT! Shit." Whipping back around. "Enough, follow me. We go down in two's. I'll take the far side with you, Risov. Sgt, you and Hughes take this side. That keeps a long arm in each group and gives us crossing fire. Don't wait on being fired on. Shoot first. But watch for the Staff and the girl."

The stocky man got right in the Captain's face and spoke his mind. "Respectfully sir, I dunno how you know my name, and even if you do, I'm not charging down the street with no M60 cappin' away at us, and you shouldn't either. That would be suicide. Not without some more backup. I think there's still someone slinkin' around in them ruins 'cross the way. We'd be dead meat 'fore we crossed the street. And who's this Staff you keep talkin' about?"

Here we go again, Carter thought.... He listened as Risov used his special way to talk to the officer. Still, he had a point, Carter didn't fancy charging a machine gun with only six bullets. Not that he was sure why an M60 would be shooting at them, maybe the gunner thought they could be Russians. Things sounded pretty confused, that was for damn sure. Best just to lay low and go with the flow.

"Trooper! There is one of ours out there. And there is cover across the street. We get into the building, we can then put some fire onto the aggressors. That'll give the convoy time to react. This is a combat situation. Are you questioning an order?" Ramsey said, with the tone of a question. Not a threat, just the tone of getting something done. "If you're not going, give me the weapon and you can stay here. Otherwise, on my tail and we'll move out." Ramsey looked Risov in the eye.

"Yes George, I know, that's why I said to head to the ruins. We still have to get across the street to them though. So you (Ramsey points to Risov with the M16) lay down some fire and keep that man's head down. The three of us will move to the ruins. Then we will lay down covering fire for Risov. Does that sound amiable for you lot? Troops are getting killed out there. We need to get some fire on those ambushers!" Ramsey says.

As he spoke, the small group huddled behind the Coho came under fire. The ambusher in the ruins (# 2), armed with a RPK, had seen his cohort (# 1) go down , and had correctly determined where the fire had come from. Bullets thudded into the wall, as he adjusted his fire.

Crouching down behind the LAV, Bill looked around anxiously, "I feel like a target in the carnival shooting gallery." Bill laughed, trying to relieve some of the stress. He looked into Sarah's eyes in the flickering light of the burning vehicles. "You doing OK? We're gonna get out of this mess yet." He gave her a reasuring wink and grin.

Risov opened fire at the RPK gunner (# 2), as the rest of the group attacked. His target was partially hidden behind the remnants of a wall, so none of his quickly fired shots found their mark, but they did cause the ambusher to take cover. He continued firing nearly all of the remainder of his mag at the RPK gunner. He concerned himself more with keeping the other guy's head down, rather than hitting much of anything. Then he had an idea for the last few rounds in the weapon...

Waiting for Risov to begin firing the three men charged out from behind the corner. Like the end scene from "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid", into the guns of the waiting Federales. Running as fast he could, Carter got in front of Ramsey and McIntyre. He wasn't trying to be a hero, though, he figured if he was in front he could make it to cover of the ruins before the machine gunner could adjust his aim. He fired the heavy revolver a few times, not bothering to keep track of the shots. He only had six rounds, no point saving any if he ended up being killed.

As Risov fired, Ramsey pushed off and ran for all he was worth across the street. Not looking or caring if he was followed, he leaped into the cover of the ruins, rolling as he hit. Ramsey crawled across the rubble further away from the street. The cuts and bruises from the leap were left in the back of this mind. His main worry was that the gunner was taken out. He popped up to take a quick look. He saw he was behind and to the right of the gunner. When the man came back up, Ramsey fired at him, his only thought was "breathe, pull trigger, let the gun settle, pull trigger, let the gun settle, pull trigger". He took cover and crawled through the rubble to get closer to the gunner. He looked to see if he was followed by Hughes, he motioned to him to get set to give flanking fire.

Alexandre, heard the shooting, and wondered about the results. Did Hughes and that CPT make it to that MG or were they painting the street red with life's liquids? He knew he was about at the end of his mag. He quickly checked for a round in the chamber, aimed for the RPK gunner's hide spot, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "HUGHES! RELOADING!... WHADDAYA GOT?", hoping to trick the RPK gunner, and shoot him when he popped up from his hide.

Carter looked around, the Captain and Sergeant McIntyre were both alive, neither appeared to have been hit. The machine gunner had stopped firing as well, Risov must have hit him. Crawling forward he cautiously raised his eyes over a pile of rubble to get a look. The gunner was down but not dead, he was still breathing but obviously wounded.

Carter crawled towards the wounded gunner, keeping the revolver on the man. He shouted back to Risov, "The gunners down Jack!". He was cautious as he approached, not fancying being taken out in some crazy suicide attempt with a grenade. "Ruki verch, comrade," he said to the man.

Ramsey quickly checked the ammo on the weapon. "See what else he has for ammo and weapons." Ramsey said to Carter. Then he swung the weapon in line with #5 takes a breath and gives off a sustained burst. Keeping it up until that target is removed. He looked for the next target on the other side. Ramsey used short sustained bursts, so as not to jam the weapon. "Watch for flankers, and see where the others are. Get them set up in the rubble to give us full protection," Ramsey yelled over the roar of the weapon.

SSG Gideon and PVT Brijalba came up to the corner of the warehouse that stood across the street from the Coho (bottom right hand corner). Gideon hugged the wall, peering around the corner, shotgun at the ready. He pulled back with a start, and turned back to Angel. His eyes were wide. "Jesus Christ, it's the Apocalypse out there." Gideon was a veteran, he had patched men up from Canada all the way back to Oregon on the long retreat. Coming from him, the comment spoke volumes on how horrific the scene really was.

Angelica yawned deeply. It was another of those reactions to fear the Doc had told them about. It must have looked incongruous to Gideon but she figured he didn't care. Whatever was going on clearly had shook even the solid rock center he had attained from combat. She crept to the edge of the building, got down on all fours, and peered quickly around the corner, exposing only the top of her helmet and her eyes. "Madre de Dios," she murmured and froze, head still sticking out. "What we going to do, Sergeant?"

SSG Gideon made up his mind. "Come on Angel, across the street. We'll try to make it to the ruins over there. Follow me." He ran across the street, shotgun at the ready. Halfway across, shots rang out from behind them, from an ambusher hidden in the shadows of the warehouse (# 6). Gideon went down in the middle of the street, with a wound to the leg. He returned fire, the shotgun roaring as he aimed at his attacker. The ambusher continued to fire with his M231 at the prone figure, bullets kicking up around him.

Angelica was in a half-crouch at the edge of the warehouse, ready to follow Gideon out at an interval when he was brutally cut down. There was no time to think, just time to move. The M9 slipped out of it's holster and into her hand and she stepped around the corner, still in a half crouch. Beneath the sharp black line of the rim of her helmet, she searched the night for the muzzle flashes of the weapon that was firing at Gideon. Move the pistol up to your eyes, not your eyes down to the pistol whispered the words of the man who had taught her how to shoot. She searched the night for the star-shaped flash of a weapon being fired, the muzzle of her M9 questing hungrily. "Pinche cabron!" she yelled shrilly.

Her first two rounds were off target and all over as the pistol bucked in her hands. They slammed into the man's leg and arm. Fortunately for Angelica the pistol lined up just right for the last two shots and took the man in the head. It didn't take a combat medic to know someone was down for good when you saw the contents of their skull emerge from the back of their head as a grisly stew. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Madre de Dios, she thought as she turned and sprinted towards the wounded Staff Sergeant Gideon. Angelica ran with the pistol in her hand, forgetting to holster it. As she closed the last few meters on him training slapped her on the back of the head and she threw herself down in what was supposed to be a modified version of a Parachute Landing Fall to throw off anyone who was shooting at her. Angelica made a perfect three point landing; knees, elbows, nose and rolled towards Gideon as she saw stars...

Once the wounded man was disarmed, Carter moved up beside the Captain at the machine gun. Looking out into the street he could see the burning remains of a Cadillac and a LAV lying on its side. His eye caught movement, two people were in the middle of the road. The flames from the caddy provided enough light for him to make out both were soldiers. One was sitting down the other crouching next to them. He could see a white armband with a red cross on it on the one crouching. Carter pointed over to the pair. "Captain, we got a medic and wounded guy out there." Carter was impressed with the medic, helping some wounded guy in the middle of a street fight. Not the smartest thing to do, but the guy certainly had balls....

The M60 gunner on the Humvee had run out of ammo, and was clumsily trying to reload. A pile of bodies lay in front of the doorway, and blood covered the sidewalk and was spattered across the walls. A figure burst from inside the Coho, lifting an AK-47 and firing at the M60 gunner. The rounds took him square in the chest, and he fell back inside the Hummer. The man with the AK-47 turned and ran towards the Hummvee, and Ramsey could see that the AK-47 wielding soldier was 1LT Courtney, CO of Bravo Company.

The M9 slid clothily into the nylon holster and she thumbed the flap shut over it. Normally she'd take the time to assess a patient's condition before moving them; however, SSG Gideon knew more about medicine than she did and they were in a highly vulnerable position. Angelica wanted to crawl into a hole everytime a round zinged past. "It's going to hurt," she warned and took position on his wounded side. Draping his arm across her shoulder she held it with one hand and slid her other arm around his waste. "Ready, lift," she said and tried to stand up, trying to take as much of his weight as possible off his injured leg.

Just as Sarah and Bill started running the RPK fired a burst from the ruins. Bill flinched but yelled at Sarah, "Keep moving!!" Just as they get to the corner a figure looms from the shadows. Bill is a heart beat away from double tapping whoever it is when he recognizes CPT Ramsey.

"Right, sir." Bill responded to the instructions to recover the Uzi from the fallen badguy across the street . Bill turns to Sarah, "I'll be right back, and we can get you out of here." With that Bill trots across the street. He checked the downed shooter to be sure he was dead, before he reholstered his Paraord 45, and snatched up the Uzi. He gave the Uzi a quick systems check, ands then searched the body for papers and more ammo for the subgun.

An eerie quiet came over the scene as the gunfire abruptly halted. The Caddy, LAV, and Deuce were still burning, and bodies littered the street. Most were already dead, but a few were still alive, moaning and screaming in agony. In the distance, the sound of vehicles approaching could be heard, as a siren started to wail from Camp Clark. A few survivors staggered out of the Coho, dazed by their experience, and by the scene in front of them. Hood River no longer looked like a sleepy small town, rather, it more closely resembled a chapter from Dante's "Inferno".

Angelica saw a soldier ahead and made for him. He wasn't shooting at her and Gideon and she counted this as a plus in the current situation. SSG Gideon kept a tight lip and a grim silence as they moved, though she was aware that every step had to be a nerve-grating agony for him. All around them were the cries and screams of wounded people, cut apart by the explosions, pierced by bullets or fragments and bleeding their life into the merciless, cold ground.

Once by the soldier, Angelica eased SSG Gideon down and quickly checked his self-diagnosis. Her hands moved over his leg, slick and hot with blood, and probed professionally, if a bit quickly and with little regard for bedside manner, to check the extent of his injuries. "Hey, jefe, how you feel? Some people bad hurt out here, so if you okay I'm going to go to them. Maybe give me your aid bag too?" She looked up at the soldier standing there and nodded.

Carter emerged from the cover of the ruins, sticking the Captain's revolver in his belt. Looking around, it would seem the battle was over. The medic with the wounded guy come towards him and eased his patient against a wall. The medic looked up, and Carter saw that he was she. A nurse, he supposed. She told him to stay with the wounded, in heavily accented English. A Latino. She must be from California, he reasoned. He nodded in return "Okay." Glancing down, Carter saw that the man was a sergeant and he had what looked like a very painful a leg wound, from the way he clutched it with both hands. Didn't look like he was about to die in the next few minutes though. He nodded at the man "Sarge."

Carter opened his top pocket and took out a cigarette, offering one to the sergeant. He lit it and slumped against the wall next to the man. Carter lent his head back and expelled a cloud of smoke. He saw survivors begin to emerge from the Coho plus a few known faces, LT Courtney was one of them as well as SGT Johnson who had his arm around a woman. The singer from the Coho. Hmmm... mused Carter with a sly grin. He couldn't see where Risov was at the moment. The sirens from the camp were wailing and vehicles could be heard approaching, the cavalry were on its way. Soon the officers and noncoms would start giving orders. So much for R and R. For the moment Carter just sat amidst the ruin, oblivious to the pain and devastation around him.

Alexandre picked up any brass he had expended in the little firefight, and pocketed it. He trudged out from around the corner, and ambled down the street toward the burning vehicles, the butt of his M16 resting in the crook of his arm. He looked for anyone he knew among the dead and living. He looked for Carter, and when he found him, he said, "Shit, man, I saw you charging that LMG with nothing but a pistol. Some people would do anything to get out of playing a game of darts..."

"Carter! Check this body out for any intel!" Ramsey says, kicking the dead RPK gunner. Still scanning the ambush site, he looked for wounded and ambushers trying to get away. "Carter, if you got anything from him, come with me. I want to find out more about this convoy. It doesn't seem right." With that Ramsey will get up hefting the RPK. He checked the magazine, then grasping it by the pistol grip, he lifted it so it was pointed at the sky with his right hand.

Sarah had been staring at the ground, struggling to get herself under control. She raised her head and looked at Bill, the color slowly coming back into her face, and said, "No Bill, I can't go home now. This is why I became a nurse. I can help. I need to help." She walked over to Angelica, and kneeled down beside her. "My name's Sarah. There's a lot of hurt people here. With the two of us working, we can treat twice as many."

Gideon looked up at the two young women, the lit cigarette that Carter had given him dangling from lips. "Go, Angel," he said. "I'll be fine here. We can use this spot as a casualty collection point." He dug into his medic's bag, pulling out some gauze and a field dressing. "Once I get this leg of mine patched, I can help with the wounded that you can bring here." He grimaced in pain. "At least until more help arrives. The worst cases we can put in the ambulance and rush them back to the hospital. Get some of these guys to help you."

The LT nodded, "I got jammed up in that crowd, and when the M60 gunner went apeshit, Jesus, guys were being blasted apart all around me. I don't know why the hell I'm still alive. When he ran out of ammo, I...I did what I had to. That crazy bastard would have loaded another belt, and wasted everyone that was still standing. It's one thing shooting at Ivan, but it's a whole different ball game when it's.....when it's one of our own." He shook his head, then looked Bill in the face. "Another damn ghost."

"Yeah, Jim. You did what had to be done, I would have done the same I think, but I was a bit preoccupied at the moment....... Hell, I didn't even know what the 60 was chopping at... I have another ghost too..... this R&R sure went to hell in a handbasket, that for sure. You're OK, though." Bill paused for a moment, then with a wrenching look on his face, he said, "Damn...... wonder how many of the boys got it? I need to check the casualties..."

SFC McIntyre was checking what was left of the convoy, peering inside each vehicle in turn. As he opened the front door of the SUV, a body fell out of the vehicle and onto the street. He stepped over the corpse and opened the rear door, his .45 at the ready. A few seconds later, he jumped back, bellowing at the top of his lungs, "CAP'N RAMSEY, GET OVER HERE!!!" His shout brought the group at a run. He shouted again, "I NEED A MEDIC ASAP!!!" As the rest of the group arrived at the shot up Chevy Blazer, they could see an unconscious soldier lying sprawled in the back seat, with two rapidly spreading red stains marking his tunic. McIntyre turned to Ramsey, "Get that Medic over here!" He looked back into the Chevy, a shaking hand pointing at the wounded soldier. "We gotta save him. That's General Bradley!!!"