This is my final story. My final moment. I don’t know how I survived that night. It was a nightmare, something that would come out of an action movie, except that most of the people that died were on our side. No one knew what to expect. No one could have predicted what happened, but it did and somehow a few of us managed to survive. We had one goal. To escort a truck containing a highly valuable experimental technology. We weren’t told what it was, and still don’t know know. Just to protect it at all cost. That it could end the war if we succeeded.

I knew right away how important this technology was once I saw the amount of troops that were sent to protect it. It sounded like every other briefing that I’ve had during these past 5 years when the war started. I hadn’t thought this mission would have such scale. I was assigned to a HMMWV, also known as the Humvee, it was outfitted with a M134 minigun. The were six Humvees of different types, three M1A1 Abrams, two Strykers, two MRAPs, and one M104 Wolverine. We were transported to a secret underground research facility where we would start the escort mission. We were told that neither side could get anything in the air, we wouldn’t be attacked by air or get air support. Most of the troops here have extensive training and experience. We were all called in to help from different companies. A couple of men were sent from my company, including my life long friend.

I’m an infantryman of the 3rd Company. Part of the US Army. I’m a combat engineer, a troop that specializes in construction or demolition during combat. I build or destroy bridges, clear or place mines, help mobilizes my teammates while hindering the enemy. My friend, Mike Containe, is a heavy gunner. We’ll be riding in the same Humvee, with him operating the minigun. “Hey Volent!” Containe calls my name. He’s all suited up and ready to go. He’s wearing his combat shirt and a vest. each pouch containing ammo. I knife was strapped to his shoulder and his sidearm was clipped to his waist. His hard eyes and face were shadowed by the helmet on his head. Goggles to protect his eyes were strapped on top of the helmet. He steps toward me, the M249 SAW bouncing in his hands. “Have you prepared yourself yet?”

“Not yet. Theres some stuff I need to grab.” I reply. With my vest ready to go, I take my helmet and bring it over my head and tighten the straps. I point over at the table. “Hand me that will you?” Containe reaches over for the manila folder sitting on the table and hands it to me. It’s cover is dirty and torn. Parts were creased and dusty, crumpled and folded in many places. “Thanks.” I flip open the folder and memories are brought back to me. I’ve had this folder for a long time. It’s my personal folder and contains my favorite things from the past, constantly growing in size with each letter sent to me. Theres old letters and pictures from my family and friends back home, but one stands out from the rest. A laminated picture of a beautiful women sitting on a red plaid blanket in a field. She has blond straight hair and blue eyes. Her hair is shoulder length and is slightly disorganized, some strands of hair part away from the rest. Her smile cause the freckles that dot her nose and upper cheek to stand out.

I take the picture out and set the manila folder down on the sandy floor. This is my favorite picture of my wife Brook. We’ve been together since high school, after we graduated I enlisted while she went off to college. I asked her to marry me two years after she got her diploma. That was three years ago. Her 26th birthday is coming up next month. I’m 28, I have 10 years of advanced training and experience, which is probably why I was selected for this mission. I take one last look at the photo and slip it in my jacket pocket, zippering it to ensure it isn't lost. Shes the reason why I’m here. I’m fighting to make sure this world is a safer place for her as well as others like her. I take my helmet and fit it over my head. “Let’s go.” I say after tightening my helmet straps. I grab my Scar-H and walk out into the blistering heat.

Fumes from diesel engine fill the air, the ground vibrating from the heavy vehicles driving past. We get in the humvee, Containe sits in the seat next to mine in the back. We have another man from our division, we call him Deemo, in the passenger seat up front. Deemo nods his tanned face at us in recognition. He doesn’t talk much. The driver was already seated when we got in. He turns around in his seat with a grin on his face. “Welcome boys! I hope you enjoy the ride!” the driver greets us. “My name’s Tromle.” He’s wearing the same gear as the rest of us, but his nose looks like it was broken more than 5 times and there was a long scar running down across it from his eyebrow to his upper cheek.

Deemo nods his head. I point to Deemo, Containe, and then myself. “That’s Deemo. This is Containe, and I’m Volent. We’re all from 3rd division.”

“Nice to meet you.”  replies Tromle. “Well I hope you boys are ready for this.” I look ahead of us as Tromle moves the humvee forward. We’re in line next to another humvee behind one of the Strykers. The transport vehicle which has the tech is between both of the Strykers. Strykers provide both armor, transport, and a sufficient means of disposing of infantry. There are two humvees in front of the strikers as well as an Abrams and the Wolverine in front of them, both side by side. The two MRAP’s, which stands for Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected, are leading the escort. The other two Abrams are behind us with the last two humvees taking up the rear.

“This is a lot of firepower.” I say to Containe. “I didn’t know we were dealing with such important tech.” Although now that I think about it, it makes sense. We‘ve been at war for about five years with a group of extremists that were able to remain hidden and build numbers in multiple countries before the war started. They somehow attacked multiple countries at once with weaponry that was just as superior as ours, which made countries think that we were attacking each other. They pretty much started a World War III. We still haven't figured out who is supplying them or what their goal is. We also can’t find out where their headquarters are because they have such a vast network of underground tunnels that stretch for miles between countries. With those tunnels they are able to pop up anywhere. So if we have anything that might help us, then we need to protect it.

I look outside as we move out of the Safezone into dangerous territory, passing rows of barbed wire fencing. Containe gets up into the gunner seat  The landscape is lifeless with dull tan sand and withering shrubs as the sun bleaches all life away with it’s gleaming rays. Sweat is already lining on my forehead from the heat and anxiety. The roar of the engine muffles out sound of everything, making the ride silent. “Make sure you drink plenty of water.” I say to Contain. “Otherwise you’ll pass out from dehydration before we’re halfway there.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Containe says in his monotone voice.

It was nearly an hour before we encountered any problems. The humvees stopped abruptly as the radio came to life. “The bridge onto the highway has collapsed. Move the Wolverine up front.” The wolverine is a modified Abrams that has a deployable bridge instead of a turret. It’s not long before we are on our way again, passing the Wolverine as we cross the bridge. We then have to wait another ten minutes for the Wolverine to pick up the bridge. The radio turns on again, “All clear. Keep moving on high alert.”

We drove across that bridge on the way here and stayed overnight yesterday. Which means that someone must have destroyed it. This was strange. Usually there would be reports of people sighted along the road by now, but there wasn’t a single person. It was eeree and peaceful too peaceful, but we drove on because that was our job and we had to complete it. It was only minutes later when we were driving by a rock outcropping surrounding the road on both sides that we had to stop. Shadows covered each vehicle as I exited the humvee, weapon drawn for safety. Containe nods his head when I look back at him. He has a straight face, his feelings covered by the the emotionless mask and hard eyes. He wasn’t always like that, and I don’t blame him. He’s had a gruesome past.
Six years ago he was with his squad on a night patrol. It was a little bit before the war started, but there were still attacks on Army men by extremist. His squad had finished their routine, but their commanding officer forced them to stay out for another half hour. He didn’t have another squad scheduled to make the rounds. During the extra time on patrol they reached a narrow road with rocks that jutted out when an IED exploded by their vehicle and was attacked by a group of terrorist. By the time help arrived it was too late. They found him still shooting his machine gun into the air, his men severely wounded. He was the only one who made it out unharmed.
The same CO was with us on this mission. He wasn't reprimanded at all, but Containe still remembers. I could see past his mask, the fear ever so lightly emerging. He knew something was going to happen just like six years ago. I move up towards the front of the escort caravan. There were some men in front and behind me, sticking to the vehicles. Up ahead I could see a row of destroyed cars blocking our path, the carcases rusting in the desert air, emitting a bad omen. A loud pop sounds off to my left followed by quick whoosh. “RPG!” someone yells. Instincts take over and I pull the two men by me to the ground. The ground shook and gunfire erupted from all around us. We push up and get into cover behind the wrecked Humvee that is now engulfed in flames with the two men dead inside. The Stryker moves to provide cover for the troops left in the open as it’s 40mm grenade launcher sends explosive ordnance into the hills.

I look behind me, towards the rear of the pack of vehicles, as an Abrams moves towards the front of the formation. One of the officers shout out to us, “Go! Clear those cars out of the way! We need to get moving!” The three other men around me creep forward behind the tank. Bullets ricochet off the ground and metal surrounding us as we work on setting a charge to clear the cars. I prime the explosive and call back the men to move back. I can see Contain firing his minigun, straight faced and unflinching, as if he weren’t being shot at by a hailstorm of bullets. We stop when we’re a safe distance away by the destroyed humvee. Guns were firing off all around me as I pressed down on the detonator, the explosion could hardly be heard.

There was now a small crater between the cars that was shallow enough to drive over. With a gap in the road we were ordered back to our vehicles, the Abrams riding along side us covering our retreat. When I enter my humvee I can still hear Containe firing his minigun. He must have gone through over a hundred rounds of ammo, the bullet casings lying all over the floor. We start driving forward again, rifles and machine guns sounding off. More RPG’s are flying through the air, their whistles and rockets shake the ground. The air is shaking with the humvee as Containe helps cover our retreat, the sound of gunfire reverberating through my ears. I look back in time to see the tank that was helping us get hit with an RPG. Most tanks can take a hit from an RPG, but this case is different. The RPG hit the tank’s ammo rack causing them to ignite, a firework of sparks and flames shoot from the cannon shells. The Abrams tank is now silent. no more rounds going off. The tanks own ammo worked against it. There was no possibility that any of the crew survived, but voices still call out on the radio, ”Preacher 3 to Guardian 2, do you copy? Preacher 3 to Guardian 2, do you copy?” There was no reply. There’ll be a team to come by to assess the damage and recover the bodies, but not us. We had to keep moving forward.

The gunfire eased down as we drove further from the ambush site. We were already down one tank and one humvee and we we’re not even close to finishing the mission. “That was a close one!” shouts Tromle.

“Is anyone hurt?” I ask
“I’m good.” Deemo replies
“So am I.” says Tromle as he pushes the humvee forward.

“Good, let’s keep it that way. I nudge Containe’s leg. “What about you. Are you good.” Containe replies with a stern ‘yes.’ We keep driving down the desert road, the speedometer reading 40 mph. That’s that fastest we can move. Abrams can’t move much faster than that. I let out a long sigh. We may have survived that encounter, but there will be more along the way.

Four hours have passed since the ambush. We’ve encountered heavy resistance along the way, but nothing we couldn't handle. Some IED’s and mines have gone off, the MRAP’s took care of those, and some enemies fired rounds as we drove by. They even tried to drive after us with some trucks and technicals, improvised fighting vehicles that usually have a machine gun attached to a pickup truck. most of the technicals could be taken out with the humvees in the back, but now and then we had to let the Abrams take care of the more advanced ones with heavier armor. Fortunately enough we didn’t have get through roadblocks or have to fight our way through anything worse, yet. I unzip my jacket pocket to take glance at my beautiful wife. I always miss her. I often spend as long as a year away from her, constantly thinking of my next way to surprise her that I’ve come home.
Deemo looks back at me, “Have you noticed anything.”

“What do you mean?” I reply as I slip the photo back into my pocket. The smile on my face diminishes.

“The silence.”

“Oh.”

It is silent. I mean, the vehicles are loud and are making lots of noise , but there hasn’t been much enemy activity and there haven’t been any more sightings along the road. No guns firing off or excessive radio chatter. ‘Walk This Way’ plays through the Humvee’s speakers, one of Aerosmith’s better songs. I nudge Containe’s leg. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Replies Containe, his short hair twitching from the wind. He had rings under his eyes from countless days of sleepless nights. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was starting to get to him. Nightmares of his past shake him awake most nights, but he manages to make due.

“You don’t look fine to me.” I shout up at him. “Get down here and get some rest.”
“I can’t do that Volent. We need to keep on alert.”

“Then I’ll switch will you. I’ve had plenty of rest.” I keep looking up at him, but he doesn’t respond. He’s right. We do need to stay on high alert, but we also need to get whatever rest we can between each firefight.

“Now what?” Tromle shouts as he slows the Humvee down. He unbuckles his seat belt and jumps out of the driver seat. With his hands raised, he starts walking down the road questioning what was going on. The wind howled through the silenced cabin. I could feel the anticipation building inside of me, in sync with the rumbling of the idle engine. We were in a more urban area. There was a small town to the left of us. People could be seen milling about, even at this distance. Mountains loomed behind the village, casting a shadow over the town. Traces of snow could be seen on the harsh and rocky surface of the bigger mountains. To the right of us were sand dunes, a frozen sea of sand that baked in the sun, changing with the wind. Brook would love it here. Not the sand. The Mountains. Brook would love the mountains. She loved to hike and always wanted to live where it was dry and warm. Maybe after this war we can move to Arizona. I liked my stay in Flagstaff, even though it was cool and crisp in the mountains.

“One of the tanks broke down.” exclaimed Tromle bringing me back to reality. “The  tank sustained heavy damage from the firefight earlier. So they’re leaving it behind.”

“What about the men?” I asked. ”Is anyone staying back to protect them until a pickup crew comes by?”
“Yeah. One of the MRAP’s are staying behind as well as a couple humvees.”

Deemo has an angered look in his face. “What? They need that many troops?”
“I guess. The CO insisted that they stay behind with him.” replied Tromle.

“He’s a moron. Leaving us with only two Strykers, an Abrams, and three humvees. What if we get ambushed again? What if they have armor piercing rockets or a tank this time?” Deemo was practically shouting at Tromle.
“I don’t know! Why don’t you take it up with him?” Tromle yelled back.

“Stop bickering.” I hated it when my teammates didn’t get along. “You won’t change the CO’s mind. He’s a selfish A-hole. Now let it rest we need to stay focused on our objective.” Both Tromle and Deemo were looking at me. Deemo’s mouth was open ready to respond, but stayed silent. Tromle put the Humvee into drive and pressed on the gas. The sun was getting lower. It was almost 1700, but we had to keep moving. We were almost there.

An hour passed as we drove over the bumpy dirt road. I don’t know when, but at some point we drove off of the paved highway and onto rocky dirt. My eyes were shut at the time. I was trying to get some much needed sleep. I dreamed of my wife. We had just bought a new house in Arizona. Our dream home. “I can’t believe this!” exclaimed Brook. “This is just what I imagined what our house would be like.”

“I knew that you’d like it,” I tell her.
“And it’s such a nice neighborhood. It would be perfect for kids!”

“Yeah.” I say. “That would be nice.” I smiled at her and she giggled, flinging her arms around my back.
“Ben, this is perfect.” She said laughing. I keep smiling at her, but something was wrong. I could hear shouting in the distance. Brook’s smile died down and disappeared. What was wrong?  An explosion erupted behind me.
I woke up from my dream, being flung forward as the humvee slammed to a halt. “What the hell?” I ask. Containe’s  minigun blares a cacophony of gunfire, waking my senses. I unbuckle my seatbelt and exit the vehicle into the warm air. Bullets split the wind. Ahead of the escort was a destroyed bridge. I could just see the other MRAP sitting in the the churning river below. The men crawling onto the shore as one of the Strykers protected them.

The enemy were shooting at us from a hill and vehicles were approaching in the distance. I aimed my Scar at the nearest head that was popping in and out of cover and fired a burst of bullets into his chest. The scene was chaotic. There were screams everywhere originating from both sides, but this was turning into a bloodbath. A voice called out over the radio, “Get that Wolverine moving! We need to cross that bridge now! Everyone keep your eyes up, we have two enemy tanks on approach!”

This was getting bad. Those tanks could easily destroy us if we were too distracted. I ran back to the humvee, dodging bullets that streamed by. Containe was still shooting, bullet casings pouring out of the minigun and over the side of the humvee. I clamber inside and search for my equipment. I grab my SRAW Anti Tank missile and exit the vehicle. I get into cover and start setting up the SRAW. The Abrams starts firing it’s main cannon towards the approaching enemy tanks. Rockets fly back and forth. Each turret and cannon on the humvees and strykers fire their rounds.

The enemy tanks finally reach us and their cannons erupt, destroying the Stryker nearby. Images of my wife flash before my eyes. Memories of our past pass by as I aim the SRAW at the closest tank, check the backblast behind me, and fire the missile. The launcher shoves my shoulder. The missile launches and hits the tank, destroying it’s right track, still leaving it operational. The other tank explodes from a shell that was fired from the last Abrams.  However, the other remaining tank shoots a final shell into the Abrams punching a hole clean through it. The radio turns on again, “The bridge is operational! Lets get moving!” The Wolverine set up the bridge in what felt like an hour, when in reality it was less than five minutes.

We clamber into the remaining humvees and stepped on the gas. Bullets bounce off the hull as we drive over the bridge one by one. Containe falls out of the turret and into the the back seat, wincing. His hands clutched a crimson stain covering his uniform. “Containe!” I shouted. “You’re hit. Keep applying pressure to the wound.” Panic starts to kick in and I take a cloth and press it into his wound.  How did this happen? He had a bullet hole in his upper chest and blood gurgled from his mouth.

“Heh.” Containe managed a chuckle. “You need to stop worrying about me for once. I’ve done my duty for my country. I should have died long ago.”

“Don’t say that! You’ll be fine! We’re almost there. We’ll get you...”

Containe interrupts me,“Volent listen. You’ve been my friend for a long time, but my time is over.” Containe says while coughing up blood with small smile on his face.

“No, no, no, no. You’re going to be fine Containe! We’ll get you to a hospital. You’re going to be fine.” I say, but he doesn’t respond. “Containe?” His eyes stare blankly ahead. Tears well up on my face. All of a sudden he was gone. There was no ‘tell my wife I love her’ or ‘take care of my kid for me.’ I take my hands away from his chest. They were covered in blood, but there was nothing I could do as we drove on to complete the mission,
Containe wasn’t the only one to die that day. There were dozens left behind in order to complete this mission, but it wasn’t in vain. The technology was successfully delivered with  minor damage and did help the war effort. The war ended a year and a half later. Containe received a Purple Heart which was handed to his wife. His son was too young to understand what happened, but will grow up knowing his father was a hero. I retired shortly after that. My wife and I found a nice little home in Flagstaff. It’s walls painted tan. It was the perfect place for us. I even had a small section of the wall reserved for pictures of Containe.