"Damn those pigs," The Colonel said, clenching his teeth. "Stubs, you take care of the defense here. You're a platoon leader now,"
Stubs was surprised. With a mutter under his breath, he replied, "yes sir,"
The Colonel then went back inside. Sergeant Major followed him. Stubs stayed with us—yes, even though he's unofficially a lieutenant now, he's still okay with it. He's about to be our new platoon commander, and with 2 Marine squad left, they were about to count us in. Hopefully they captured the Lieutenant instead of killing him. He was a good man, to be frank.
We were just standing there, not really back on our position. There were too many holes to fill in after we lost that one squad the Lieutenant brought. We were spread too thin, or at least so I thought. Spreading too thin doesn't really look like this. It's like five men covering 100-yard line. But for us, less than 40 people covering 200-yard line was quite little.
"You really okay?" I asked Red.
"I am, why?"
"Nothing, just making sure," I paused, "I have a feeling we're moving out,"
"Where?"
"I don't know, it's just a hunch," But I did feel like we were about to move out, "This position is already compromised. We might need a new place to hide the Colonel,"
"But they didn't see the Colonel,"
"That's what I thought, too. But you saw him right, he's being a bit too cautious,"
"STUBS! GET THESE PEOPLE READY TO MOVE OUT," The Colonel burst out of his shattered front door.
"See?" I said to Red
"Shut up, Gunny," she chuckled a bit.
Somehow, that order died out. None of us actually prepared to move out. We just resupplied ourselves with ammo. Maybe Stubs convinced the Colonel that it's not really necessary to move out now. Or maybe seeing how Grace was, moving out could do more harm than good. But we're a bit relieved, not moving out.
"You were saying?" Red said to me, teasing me for the fact we didn't move out.
"Fuck you, Red," I chuckled this time. She got me there.
It was still right around eleven o'clock. The sun burned everything not under the shades. The foul odor of blood spread everywhere, especially with heat evaporating anything liquid. Gunfire was still heard every now and then on the faraway side of the battlefield. But for us, it was a lull. Could be dangerous, I tell you. Enemy can catch us off guard, attacking while we take breaks. But it didn't happen.
We then coordinated with the squad, assessing damage and distributing supplies. We had plenty of rounds, most of us armed with rifles had at least 240 rounds of 5.56mm attached to our bodies. We the 5th Squad riflemen even had 300 rounds with each of us, except for Red, who downloaded it to 210 for better mobility. MGs have even more rounds. 700 for the SAW, 500 for the GPMG, not including their assistant gunner. It's actually good for bugouts, but we're not ready for it, I guess.
Buck is fine now. He chatters as usual again after getting treatments for his leg. The ricochet was quite big, probably an AK-47 round. Had it pierced a little deeper, it might've hit the artery and drained him out of blood.
"How's that leg?" I asked
"Stiff, sore, what have you, Mick. But it still works," he said, quite lightly. The bruise on his head is almost gone, too.
"You sure you can command the Gunners?"
"Well I'm not a fan of Arsenal,"
"Not that kind of Gunners, you silly bastard," I almost slapped him for that joke. But we both shared a good laugh. Thanks, Buck.
YOU ARE READING
Irregulaire
ActionA ragtag band of civilians were recruited during an invasion. Armed to the teeth, they are met with challenging tasks that will took toll upon them. Initially focused on getting the job done, they need to work together to survive.
