"I want to see all of you back in formation by zero six hundred hours in full kit tomorrow." The sergeant instructed his weary eyed squad as the sun began to set off in the distance. None of them nodded or made a noise as he took his place in the center. "Squad," His body went tight with his fists to his sides, looking straight ahead. "Attention!" They all mirrored his position in unison. "Dismissed."
The group of six soldiers went about the forward operating base within seconds of release. Some went to the mess hall to grab something to eat that didn't come out of a vaccum sealed plastic bag. Others went to the internet cafe to call their loved ones. All of them had a look of relief from completing the long convoy to the half-way point to boarding their flight and returning home.
Sergeant Sam Reid had to agree with his troops as he too felt the weariness of travel. It had been a long deployment, and the last few days always felt like an eternity when it meant in just a few short days, they would be back home with their family and friends. They were only a forty eight hours away from being able to sleep in their own beds for the first time in twelve months. Though, as their platoon sergeant would say, "The mission isn't done until your boots are back on U.S. soil!"
Sam took his helmet from his head and replaced it with a soft cap. The helmet's padding had long since lost it's comfort as he scratched at where the screws held the chin strap in place. When they finally got back, he'd be able to turn in his equipment for the much needed upgrades.
He decided to take advantage of the off time and go to the internet cafe to check on his social media to see if his brother had his room made up for when he came home on leave. He only needed to stay on post for a matter of days for in prossessing before being released to his family for a month. Before entering the base, he got in line to the clearing area where he cleared his rifle and his side arm that was strapped to his hip. He watched as all soldiers in his squad did the same.
As he walked, he kicked a rock in front of him, making it skip a few times before resting a few feet in front of him, awaiting him to kick it again. Such small entertainment kept his weary limbs traveling forward. Looking up, he saw Simmons and Jacobs in the mess hall line. They had their helmets off, yet didn't have their soft caps on. They warily held them in their hands, just in case someone called them out on being out of uniform.
Sam only chuckled lightly to himself as he kept walking. It had been a very hot and stuffy day in their vehicles. Most didn't have air conditioning, which made the miles they traveled drag on. Their uniforms were nothing but sweat drenched cloth by the time they made it to the base, so he didn't mind if they cooled their heads before eating.
The compound was not too large, as it only took him a few minutes to walk from one side to the next. Most of the base was nothing but defense structure. He could see at least seven bunkers from the internet cafe. Along with this structure, the mess hall was nothing but a tent, and then the sleeping quarters were twenty man tents lined up in rows of three.
Reaching the flap of the tent leading into the cafe, he seated himself at the nearest available computer and went to his social media page. As he did, he saw a picture in his messages of a nice soft bed waiting for him. That picture alone was enough to put a smile on his face. He thanked his brother who was most likely asleep at the moment, or at least just about to wake up and then decided to stroll through his timeline for a bit.
"Incoming, Incoming!" A loudspeaker from outside. "Dawn protective gear and take defensive positions!" The message was repeated through the entire FOB, yet Sam only needed to hear it once.
Grabbing his rifle from the floor underfoot, Sam made his way out of the cafe and to the nearest bunker. He saw two of his soldiers in defensive positions, their muzzels pointed at either entrance. He ran to the nearest soldier and put a hand to his shoulder. "Report!" He yelled sternly to get his attention.
"I saw Simmons and Jacobs going to the mess hall before I came to the cafe, Sergeant!" Ryan yelled back at Sam without taking his eyes off the entry.
"Good man!" Sam took his hand from the soldier's shoulder. "You and Manning stay here and offer cover." Sam ran out of the bunker before he heard a response, relying on the soldier's training instead of his affirmations.
Running to the bunker at the mess hall, Sam saw that Simmons and Jacobs had already set up their defensive positions. He kept his head low as he sprinted to the structure and ducked in. "Report!"
Simmons looked up. "Simmons and Jacobs accounted for, Sergeant!" He said quickly. Sam took the soldier's head and put it back to the buttstock of the weapon. "Do not look away from your sight until all clear is called, soldier!"
"Yes, Sergeant!"
The last two soldiers were on guard duty at the vehicle area. Sam sprinted back to the entrance to the base and noticed why the alarms went off. A pickup truck had broken through the barrier and four insurgents with black vests had already gotten out and split up.
Sam loaded a magazine into his rifle and slid the bolt forward, loading a round into the chamber and took it off of safety. Taking the first into sight, he discharged a round through the masked man's forhead. He saw a trigger in the man's hand, yet the switch had not been pressed yet.
"Shit." He said to himself as he took the next one into sight. The insurgent was running towards the soldiers that were manning the entry control point. Sam squeezed the trigger, sending a round through the man's throat. Arterial blood sprayed everything and the man's thumb hit the trigger. A crater was all that remained from where the man stood. He saw that the soldiers had already taken cover, so there were no casualties.
The third insurgent tried his luck at getting to the wall that surrounded the sleeping quarters. Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the man drop, a portion of his skull missing as someone else took the shot.
Not skipping a beat, Sam brought his focus to the last one and dismay hit him. The man went for the transport vehicles of his convoy. He could see Martinez and Collins staring at the man with resignation.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Sam shouted as he closed the distance between the insurgent and his soldiers. His adrenaline shot him forward faster than he thought it could as he caught the insurgent and tackled him to the ground. He tried gouging the man's eyes out, then clawed at the trigger, but the man's grip on it was too tight. In a last act of hope, Sam covered the man with his own body.
The last thing he saw was white, before all went dark.