No shit, there I was…
I was putting on my gear, which consists of heavy ass body armor and containers for ammo (I carry 15 magazines with me with 30 rounds in each one) and a couple of grenades, smoke, canteen, gps unit, walkie talkie and so forth. Anyway, I was getting ready to go to chow as I sometimes like to go at the end when it is quieter.
We were taking mortar fire. The radios lit up in activity at the same time that perimeter towers lit up with autmomatic gun fire. It appeared that we were under attack.
The mood here in the barracks was as though the winning football team had been told that they were going to a nude beach.
Grins and hoots and and all sorts of noise as we put our gear on. I went around and made accountability with my guys and then made contact with my squad leader. We were ready to go, we were going to “fuck some shit up”. There are a LOT of grunts on this patrol base who would love nothing more for Christmas than a chance to rush out and engage the enemy. And here it was, our sort of fight delivered to us.
Illumniation rounds were popping up all along the perimeter. 800 meters away, a fifteen story building’s windows glowed with the reflection of all the lights we popped into the sky. Paracute flares lend a ghostly touch to the night as they slowly descend, swaying in the night air, casting their light down on the world below.
But the enemy decided that the response was too much, too fast, and left. We felt cheated. We were hungry. We felt like we had dressed up, gone to the door to pick up our date to take her to the make out spot, talked to her mean father for a while, only to have her decide not to go out.
So we wait some more. It is another day in the same old routine here. We hope, daily, for peace and happiness for our loved ones, and the chance to get our enemies in our sights…
… we carry a lot of ammunition.