'Fuck me, this is it eh? I wonder what name Jessica decided to give our boy, at least I hope it's a he?' 'hmm Waking up to the smell of cooked bacon on Saturday morning.

Jessica and the kids in the kitchen greeting me lazily.'

' Annual Christmas cards from Mom signed with love. I always wanted a simple life a good life. Jessica I'm sorry, I lov..," Chris thought as his last faded away.

___________________________________________________________________________

In a treacherous city in Iraq during the height of the War on Terror. In a convoy of Army humvees, a detachment from the 75th Ranger-Regiment was tearing its way through enemy lines.

The detachment 8th Platoon, making its way toward a high profile target. The platoon consisted of two squads, first squad under Sergeant.Macross and second squad under Sergeant.Chris Stevens. With the whole of 8th Platoon falling under Lieutenant.King.

" We're two kliks out," Cpl.Dune's voice rang over the radio.

"First squad you're on me," said L.King with his usual unhappy tone.

"SGT.Stevens, Second squad will circle round the square and push ahead to point A," LT.King orders over the radio. "Yes sir!" Both squad leaders reply in unison.

As four humvees from Second squad separated from the convoy heading further North.

"Alright, Second squad listen up! We are expecting light enemy resistance based on Intel on insurgent movement in this A.O. Fireteam leaders follow your designated roles from the pre-operation briefing," Chris reiterates.

'Today feels way the fuck off, something stinks.' Chris couldn't help but think in the back of his mind. Maybe just a soldier's superstition or perhaps battle forged instinct.

"Confirm your targets there is a civilian presence. There will be no air support this time we can't risk collateral. Watch your sectors and stay frosty gentlemen LET'S DO THIS," Chris roars!

"YES SERGEANT!" Second squad replied with furor.

Within five minutes Chris's squad had reached point A. Their humvees moved through the tight roads in single file, the convoy flanked by multistory buildings. When the last Humvee drove past a tire on the roadside approaching the intersection of a side-road.

BOOOOOOM! A deafening explosion shocked Chris who was in the passenger seat of the lead Humvee. He looked back to see truck four almost in half and coated in flames.

'Fuck ambush,' was Chris's first thought.

"Contact! At nine o'clock nine o'clock,'' voices rang out amidst gunfire.

TATATA...TATATATATA...TATATA...TAT

The Browning .50 mounted gun on truck two began to sing. The guns rounds were shredding cement walls and punching through stone, any human hit instantly turned into a red mist.

Chris could see shadows move on the rooftops and through windows in the building at two-o'clock. Realizing the convoy was surrounded and knowing there could be no survivors from truck four. Chris quickly ordered the remaining vehicles to punch it in full reverse down the side road to the right of and slightly behind tuck three. While returning fire.

"All trucks reverse down that road in the alley behind us. Gunner one return fire, move"

Without missing a beat the three drivers reversed the humvees and turned the corner in tandem, quickly without breaking formation. This manoeuver was executed with a precision born from constant training.

With truck three now in the lead down the road with truck one bringing up the rear.

With the maelstrom of bullets lessening as the only line of sight left of the convoy was directly twelve-o'clock in front of the alley. Insurgents had yet to move to a position above the alley.

"Fuck this man, fuck!"

Chris and his squamates clinched their teeth and cursed as bullets broke their windshield and whizzed by inches from striking them.

After traveling forty meters down the road the humvees came to an abrupt stop, as the road in the alley was blocked by a barricade of cars.

As soon as truck one halted Chris opened the passenger door.

"Everyone into the building on the right, fire and move," ordered Chris.

Before the driver of the last truck could open the door a round struck his face.

Causing a quarter of his head to disappear, killing him instantly.

"Nooo Carmike!" Chris bellowed. A gut-wrenching feeling hitting him at the loss of his friend and comrade.

Chris gnashed his teeth while he ran toward cover out of the alley in the first floor of the multistory building.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Over the radio, " Second Squad come in," said LT.King.

" What's your situation? Report," LT.King sounding more ragged this time.

" LT this is SGT.Stevens we are caught in an ambush." Chris's voice growing darker,

"We are surrounded and pinned down. Soon our position will be overrun." Chris had a noticeable look of fear on his face.

"SGT-Macross is dead, along with the target this mission is over. Can your squad breakthrough," LT.King asked?

"No sir half of my men are dead," Chris replied with audible pain in his voice.

"I see that's unfortunate," LT.King continued, "the remainder of first squad and I will fall back for extraction," he said coldly.

"Chris I will make sure Jessica knows you died a hero," LT-King said without a hint of remorse.

'Wait what the fuck? He can't be serious just leaving us here!'

"Sir, you can't, what do you mean?'' Chris was alarmed at what he had heard.

Nothing but silence came over the radio, there was no reply from LT.King.

Chris was left with a blank expression as what had just transpired sunk in.

'We're being left to die.' Thought Chris grimly as he was crouched behind a stone wall on the second floor under enemy fire.

Chris commanded his men to the best of his ability during this short-lived battle.

The remnants of Second squad fought bravely killing many of the oncoming enemies with grenades and rifles.

What Chris heard next caused his heart to nearly stop. With wide eyes, Chris and his men looked up toward the sky with suffocating anticipation in their throats.

They could hear the roar of jet engines overhead followed by the whistles of death.

The trading of gunfire ceased as a series of vicious explosions rang out all around.

BOOOOM...BOOOM...BOOOM...BOOOOM

At this moment Chris cursed LT.King with all of his being.

'Oh fuck you LT!'

Chris dove down the stairwell colliding with the ground below head first, he lost consciousness as a bomb struck his building.

Chris slowly opened his eyes Intense pain washed over him. His chest and abdomen felt crushed while his left arm was completely numb.

The building had collapsed on one side with fire everywhere as smoke filled the air stinging his eyes.

(cough) "ahhh" Chris yelled as pain filled his senses. With all of his will and effort, he rose to his feet. Looking at the collapsed rubble from the second floor.

'Shit guys, could any of you have survived?'

The building was starting to crumble. Chris limped his way through an exit created by a hole in the wall.

'I can't hear my eardrums must be busted.'

After slowly making it to the street what he saw shocked him. Bombs turned once great building into rubble. Cars on the street where in flames ash and debris filled the air. On the ground, charred corpses littered the street. Making way down the graveyard with poor visibility. Chris lost his footing when what he stepped on shifted.

After a painful fall, Chris landed in warm mud, with a glance at his hands he realized it was blood. Chris was plenty bloody but he knew it wasn't his. "What the fuck."

With unsteady eyes and a heart full of fear he slowly turned to look at what he had slipped on. "AHHH SHIT!" He shrieked a cry full of pain. "Oh no," he exclaimed.

A woman's decapitated head looked back at him; while disfigured he could still make out the expression of agony on her face. As soon as Chris peered at the grotesque scene he quickly lost the contents of his stomach, nothing came out but blood and water. 'Oh God please'

Without the strength to stand again, Chris rolled onto his back and looked at the beautiful azure sky above.

"As a soldier, I've accepted imminent death. During deployments on the battlefield, I would always imagine my death. Thoughts of my death were always present sticking to me. With me like the guilt, I felt leaving my wife at home alone while I went off to fight a war she didn't support." (cough)...(cough) "Picturing myself the hero of the classic.

I would take a bullet for my battle buddy. Shot in the chest brazier-red blood would leave me. While my squad mates would come around me as I sacrifice myself to save a brother." Said in a voice barely audible. "That was the image set, my death in my mind.

Not like this...I couldn't imagine my death being so useless," Chris said.

Toward himself or Heaven he wasn't sure which.

As he thought his final thoughts.

Chris Stevens succumbed to the cold embrace, losing consciousness for the final time.