This story took place in 2004 in Iraq
Flaming Donut...
I'm Standing in the middle of the road. Hot, sweaty, gritty, uncomfortable. My helmet is heavy, giving me a headache; my armor makes my shoulders ache; my SAW's cocking lever is digging into my groin. My knees burn, my feet are like two lumps of lead that ache, burn and itch all at the same time. They are also swimming in a pasty goo of fourteen-hour old gold-bond. In short, I'm miserable, but ignoring it all in that special way you do when you have to. Cataloging it. Storing it for later processing, focusing on the task at hand.
That task is pulling security at the ass-end of a Bradley, sitting in the road, looking the other way. I am not happy about this at all. The back of the Bradley is the only unarmored portion. It's the place you absolutely have to aim at if you want to kill one with an RPG. Add to that the fact that the road is pointing directly toward the setting sun, and that I had been standing there for over an hour, while a little way around the corner EOD was dealing with an IED, and the reason for my unhappiness at my current location starts to become clear. This is exactly where myself, and the SAW is NOT supposed to be. It screams, "Shoot me."
Damned if I wasn't going to do everything I could to make sure I survived this idiocy. I scrutinized everything I could see, (which, thanks to the Sun was precious little), My Wiley-X's were scratched to hell, and the sun was turning those little imperfections into blinding little beams of light. Shielding my eyes was useless. The sun was staring me in the face, sitting almost directly in front of me. Still, I managed to catch the barest glimpses of commotion down the street. So did others in my squad. My squad leader called up to the LT. He'd just walked over from the other machine gunner, who was posted prone, looking down an alley across the street to my left.
The request to take some guys to check out the commotion was denied, as was my Lt's habit. My Squad leader moved to a slightly better vantage point, and said that it looked like there were a group of people arguing violently down the street, some 300 meters away. They seemed to be gesturing in our direction, but since we couldn't go down and check it out, we could only guess.
So, I'm still standing there, still miserable; only now I'm getting antsy as fuck, because I just know the shit's about to hit the ceiling and go flying in all directions. The antsy beats out the miserable. I'm really worried now, but at least I'm not feeling all the aches and pains. Nothing like the imminent threat to life and limb to focus the mind.
I'm wondering what's going to happen next, when I hear a loud "POP! FZssssht!" and see this funny, flaming circle with a black center. R.P.G. I knew it without ever having seen it. Thank all the Gods in all the multitudinous heavens that my buddy Marcus had told me the story his father had told him. Gave me the same advice he'd been given, " You see the flaming donut, you run." Simple. But it saved me. I bolted, ninety-degrees from the Bradley, running as fast as I could. I looked back over my shoulder as I was running. Saw the RPG bounce-skip off the pavement, and slide up under the the Bradley. I ran faster, tensing, expecting an explosion...
The next thing I know, I'm on all fours, a good six feet from where I'd been running. I'm bawling, and scrambling on all fours. I couldn't think, couldn't feel. I knew I was shredding my hands on the rubble around me, but didn't care. I was screaming in my head, but couldn't catch enough breath to do more than suck air like a fish. I swear I would have lost my weapon if it hadn't been slung around my neck. I can remember snapshots of that moment, shaky images as I fast-crawled/stumbled. The BC of the Bradley leaping into the Turret in two impossible bounds. My Squad leader windmilling across the road to try to get to us. I swear it looked like he hopped right over that damned RPG. My fellow Machine-gunner yelling over his shoulder.
The the wall hit me in the face. Or, rather, I slammed face first into the wall. My fire-team leader was already firing. He'd been stationed against that wall before the shot. And he was unloading down the road. He was looking back at me from time to time.. yelling, but the words didn't make sense. Then it clicked, and I started shooting too. I got a hold of myself a second later, stopped shooting. That was when the Bradley came to life like some great beast. A dragon out of myth made real before me. The driver, and gunner had been stunned by the explosion underneath the metal monster, but neither were hurt. They recovered about as fast as I had. It began to belch flaming hate and death at the enemy. They had started shooting at us now, but that only lasted until the HE rounds started landing in and amongst them. I was behind a half-collapsed wall anyway, and not in any danger from small-arms. The enemy started going to pieces immediately, both figuratively, and in reality. I fired down the road a couple more times, but it was really just to make myself feel better, the Bradley was more than enough.
Flaming Donut...
I'm Standing in the middle of the road. Hot, sweaty, gritty, uncomfortable. My helmet is heavy, giving me a headache; my armor makes my shoulders ache; my SAW's cocking lever is digging into my groin. My knees burn, my feet are like two lumps of lead that ache, burn and itch all at the same time. They are also swimming in a pasty goo of fourteen-hour old gold-bond. In short, I'm miserable, but ignoring it all in that special way you do when you have to. Cataloging it. Storing it for later processing, focusing on the task at hand.
That task is pulling security at the ass-end of a Bradley, sitting in the road, looking the other way. I am not happy about this at all. The back of the Bradley is the only unarmored portion. It's the place you absolutely have to aim at if you want to kill one with an RPG. Add to that the fact that the road is pointing directly toward the setting sun, and that I had been standing there for over an hour, while a little way around the corner EOD was dealing with an IED, and the reason for my unhappiness at my current location starts to become clear. This is exactly where myself, and the SAW is NOT supposed to be. It screams, "Shoot me."
Damned if I wasn't going to do everything I could to make sure I survived this idiocy. I scrutinized everything I could see, (which, thanks to the Sun was precious little), My Wiley-X's were scratched to hell, and the sun was turning those little imperfections into blinding little beams of light. Shielding my eyes was useless. The sun was staring me in the face, sitting almost directly in front of me. Still, I managed to catch the barest glimpses of commotion down the street. So did others in my squad. My squad leader called up to the LT. He'd just walked over from the other machine gunner, who was posted prone, looking down an alley across the street to my left.
The request to take some guys to check out the commotion was denied, as was my Lt's habit. My Squad leader moved to a slightly better vantage point, and said that it looked like there were a group of people arguing violently down the street, some 300 meters away. They seemed to be gesturing in our direction, but since we couldn't go down and check it out, we could only guess.
So, I'm still standing there, still miserable; only now I'm getting antsy as fuck, because I just know the shit's about to hit the ceiling and go flying in all directions. The antsy beats out the miserable. I'm really worried now, but at least I'm not feeling all the aches and pains. Nothing like the imminent threat to life and limb to focus the mind.
I'm wondering what's going to happen next, when I hear a loud "POP! FZssssht!" and see this funny, flaming circle with a black center. R.P.G. I knew it without ever having seen it. Thank all the Gods in all the multitudinous heavens that my buddy Marcus had told me the story his father had told him. Gave me the same advice he'd been given, " You see the flaming donut, you run." Simple. But it saved me. I bolted, ninety-degrees from the Bradley, running as fast as I could. I looked back over my shoulder as I was running. Saw the RPG bounce-skip off the pavement, and slide up under the the Bradley. I ran faster, tensing, expecting an explosion...
The next thing I know, I'm on all fours, a good six feet from where I'd been running. I'm bawling, and scrambling on all fours. I couldn't think, couldn't feel. I knew I was shredding my hands on the rubble around me, but didn't care. I was screaming in my head, but couldn't catch enough breath to do more than suck air like a fish. I swear I would have lost my weapon if it hadn't been slung around my neck. I can remember snapshots of that moment, shaky images as I fast-crawled/stumbled. The BC of the Bradley leaping into the Turret in two impossible bounds. My Squad leader windmilling across the road to try to get to us. I swear it looked like he hopped right over that damned RPG. My fellow Machine-gunner yelling over his shoulder.
The the wall hit me in the face. Or, rather, I slammed face first into the wall. My fire-team leader was already firing. He'd been stationed against that wall before the shot. And he was unloading down the road. He was looking back at me from time to time.. yelling, but the words didn't make sense. Then it clicked, and I started shooting too. I got a hold of myself a second later, stopped shooting. That was when the Bradley came to life like some great beast. A dragon out of myth made real before me. The driver, and gunner had been stunned by the explosion underneath the metal monster, but neither were hurt. They recovered about as fast as I had. It began to belch flaming hate and death at the enemy. They had started shooting at us now, but that only lasted until the HE rounds started landing in and amongst them. I was behind a half-collapsed wall anyway, and not in any danger from small-arms. The enemy started going to pieces immediately, both figuratively, and in reality. I fired down the road a couple more times, but it was really just to make myself feel better, the Bradley was more than enough.