How I died

I moved slowly forward through the ferns. They grew dense and tall, a blanket suspended three feet above the ground. Their bright green leaves swayed alarmingly in the evening breeze. Below the leaves all light was blocked out. I knew in that eerie blackness anyone could be hiding. But where? Was I going to die?

The last of the sun’s light was falling away from the canyon mouth far behind me. Slivers of its fiery orange sliced through the canopy above me. The sudden bright light in the murk played havoc with my eyes. Unsure, I dropped down to a knee; my head at the level of the broad fern leaves. Quickly the last of the orange light faded.

To my right was a man I had never met. He was supposed to disappear and be forgotten in the dense brush while my squad made noise and attracted the attack. My squad, Craig Terry and young Alex Marcum, had elected me to be point. Craig had on sunglass ski goggles that, now without the sun, ruined his vision.

A brief explosion of gunfire rang out. It was over before I had even realized what was happening and that I should drop to the ground. The man to my right was dead. I scanned the bushes but saw nothing. Where had that come from? He had been pushing up to the field’s southern perimeter, which we needed so that no one could flank us. There was no time to hesitate, we that the high ground.

And I was point. It was my responsibility.

I swallowed slowly, and moved up the slope to the right, signaling Craig and Alex to stay parallel to me.

Where my friend had been shot there was a sort of trail. It ran along the edge of the playing zone, directly forward. There was no cover. I dropped to the ground, checked Craig and Alex, and began crawling forward. Over rocks and logs, I would go a foot and pause, looking for any movement. Finally I spotted it. Fifty feet ahead someone wearing camo shifted positions. It was a faint shadow of movement through the heavy brush and tree branches. I opened fire and nailed the guy.

I waited for a minute. Nothing else happened. Craig and Alex had not moved forward yet. Despite the lack of cover I climbed to a knee, then squatting, walked forward quickly a few feet seeking brush to hide behind. Sudden gunfire erupted right to my side. I hear several shots as they wined passed my head. Immediately I dropped to the ground. The thought, get as small and as low as possible, ran through my mind and I rolled onto my back, turned my head sideways so my nose wouldn’t stick up, and exhaled. The machine gun continued. Chink chink sounded as a few pellets hit my gun sitting on my chest. Amazingly none hit me. I realized, somehow, he could not get his line of fire low enough to hit me.

Relief washed over me. I was somehow still alive. I blindly aimed my M-4 and opened up. My gun sputtered off a few shots and then choked. What? I flipped between safety, semi, and auto frantically pulling the trigger. I got another shot or two off and then my gun went dead; of all the inconvenient times. I screamed “contact” over and over, willing Craig and Alex to save me. But I still could not see them and they had not engaged.

My enemy fired a few rounds. I saw several pass right over my head. Still he could not hit me.

I dropped my M-4 and pulled out my pistol. I fired again blindly to my side. I could see no one. I stopped. There was silence. I had no chance of hitting him and it was only a matter of time until he got the courage to move to a position where he could hit me. I was a sitting duck. I had to move.

As if in response I saw a man come running at me through the trees. He was eighty feet out and well protected. I yelled for cover fire. I lifted myself up a little and inched backwards as he shot at me. Simultaneously the enemy on my side opened fire. I dropped to the ground but my luck had run dry. In that terrible cross fire I was hit three times on my right hand and wrist, and several more across my face.

And so my life ended. Shortly thereafter our team was routed and we lost the match. Nuts.