Noise.
That could easily sum up the last 5 minutes. Shouting, firing, wailing, profanity and explosions. I had been to war before and understood how loud things could get, but this felt different. These people around me were civilians, screaming insults as they fired from cover.
The drug dealing crew, though almost doubling the amount of attackers, were clearly less well trained and organised as the attackers were precise in their shots and suppression, firing when and where needed. Nothing was going to waste.
I was holding behind a concrete pillar, taking pot shots every so often when I thought I saw an opening. To my left was a ganger who was spraying his machine gun blindly, clearly scared, yet fighting for his left the safest way he could.
