Friday 21th June 2013
FOB Budwan
Helmand Province, Afghanistan

"Are you going to call? Or just stare at the phone all day?" A voice from behind me grabs my attention as I contemplated whether or not it would be a good idea to call my ex on her birthday. I place the phone down on the table before me, running my hands through my hair as I let out a shallow groan.

"I will get around to it... at some point today," Anyone could tell by my voice that I lacked enthusiasm. Turning I look to the man stood before me. Corporal Williams, his usual pale complexion heavily bronzed from being under the unrelenting sun for the last four months. His blonde hair is ruffled at the top yet short at the back and sides, his blue eyes looking at me with an irritated glare.

"Well it would be better to leave it until later anyways, it may be noon here but back home it is still early morning. And if she's the same as she was when we came here then she is going to be pissed you woke her up," He steps over the bench before sitting on it and resting his arms on the table, still looking at me his face gradually turns back to his normal cocky grin.

"Yeah... She always was in a fucking mood whenever she woke up," I smirk as I move to stand, pushing back from the table I leave the phone where it was.

"Probably 'cause she woke up next to your miserable arse," Fucking Williams... I swear to god all he could do was make wisecracks at any opportunities he could like the asshole he was. But hey... he's my arsehole, I'd be lost without him.

"Aye, more than likely."

"Anyways I didn't come here for pleasantries, Sir, as much as I absolutely love hearing you bitch about your open trench of an ex."

I turn to face him, a scowl on my face as I look down to him. Yes, she was a bitch for cheating on me, but as stupid as it sounds I still care for her. "Watch it, Corporal, I can still put you on shit jobs for the next week if you'd prefer," My scowl drops as It is replaced by a grin at the thought of making him go around and clean every hole we called a toilet for the next week. "Why did you grace me with your presence then?"

"You know me, can't keep my trap shut to save my life." His cocky grin never falters as he attempts to look ashamed at his actions. Standing he walks past me patting me on the back. "We got a shout, IED along an American transport route, our favourite bomber is branching out it seems." He begins to jog towards his quarters where all his kit is stored, waving down the rest of our team as he passes them.

"Well, why don't the yanks blow it up like they do everything else?" I shout after him as I slowly back up to head to my own quarters.

"Command caught wind and were insistent that it's recovered for forensics. If it is our guy they want him identified and captured, Fucker has already killed two of ours."

I turn and quickly run to my quarters, entering the building I stop in the doorway to look for my kit. The room itself isn't much to look out. A table under a broken window holding intelligence reports, a foldout camping bed in the corner and a chest against the wall containing my personal effects with my gear rested against the lid. The odd poster from adult magazines covered the sand and dirt covered wall above my bed, courtesy of Stanley's oversized wank bank collection.

Walking over to my kit I catch my reflection in the mirror, pausing I move closer to examine my face to check to see if the cut had stopped bleeding after I managed to cut myself whilst shaving like the genius I am. I run my hand along my tanned chin, the cut itself seems to have stopped bleeding. Looking up I notice the bags under my eyes, I've not had a good night sleep since last month. My light blue eyes seem to reflect in the mirror, catching the sun slipping in through the broken window. My hair is matted with sweat, the blistering heat never helps when it comes to looking clean for longer than five minutes, black hair sticks to the top of my head, the short back and sides allowing me to mostly stay cool in the heat.

"OY PRINCESS!" I swear I nearly leap out my skin as I turn to see Williams standing in my door in full kit and rifle in hand. "Transport is leaving in two minutes." As quickly as he came he's back out the door running towards the compound gate.

Leaning over the chest I grab my gear. My Mk .7 Helmet, much better than the old Mk. 6 because I can actually see when I'm face down in front of a bomb. My Osprey body armour, the pouches already filled with six magazines for my rifle and an additional magazine sitting on top of the armour. My L85A2 rifle fitted with a useless SUSAT sight, the rifle itself is a pain in the arse seeing as you have to clean it 24/7. And finally, my thigh holster holding my Glock 17 and an additional magazine.

With my kit on I dash out the door and quickly make my way to the Mastiff as everyone else is getting in. It may not look pretty, but with its reinforced armour designed to resist IED blasts and a heavy support gun strapped to the roof you couldn't ask for a safer way to travel. Well unless you asked for a Challenger.

"Driver what's our ETA?" I sit closest to the front, my various other kit packs containing all my tools and equipment are already seated across me from my team loading them into the vehicle before I arrived.

"We should be there in approximately 20 Minutes, Sir."

Soon enough the vehicle begins to move along the dirt roads, everyone else in the Mastiff begins to talk idly as I rest my head back against the seat and try to relax. The CD player kicks in as the driver begins to play his music out loud.

Now that I actually have a minute I suppose I should tell you something about myself. I am Ammunition Technical Officer (A.T.O.) Lieutenant John Davies, 33rd Engineer Regiment (Explosive Ordnance Disposal), Royal Engineers, British Army. I've been in the army for six years, enlisting when I left college at 18. I've been on tour in Northern Ireland once and this my third tour in Afghanistan. Hopefully, this will be the last time, and not with me being shipped home in a body bag or missing any limbs. It's my lovely job to stick my face in front of a bomb and hope to high hell it doesn't kill me before I disarm it. A bit like the film 'Hurtlocker' except without the bullshit.

I'm soon brought back to reality when my communications specialist Lance Corporal Stanley begins pushing me back and forth. Being one of the oldest in my squad at 33, his shaved head does nothing but reflect the sun. His brown eyes looking at me with some concern as he moves along to the seat next to me.

"Sir, we just got a call from the Americans, seems some sort of storm is making its way towards the area and has a strong electrical charge being emitted from it. They want the road cleared ASAP so they can move before the storm hits," A storm... really? That's what has them concerned? Not the risk of an ambush from the Taliban? I mean how bad can it be?

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Okay... maybe the storm is bad, to be honest, its, unlike anything I've ever seen. A heavy cloud front seems to be moving in our direction at a rapid pace, the clouds themselves even seem to be an unnaturally dark blue with rapid lighting bolts being emitted from it, the flashes it produces even seems to be changing colour.

The convoy is parked alongside the road just after a sharp turn. Consisting of one RG-33 with a remote weapons system at the rear and two M35 supply trucks, one of which is carrying a large fuel container on the rear. Our Mastiff is located to the rear of the convoy. A small crowd of locals are stood observing at the inside of the turning. Each side of the road itself has an elevated bank roughly one meter high above the floor. To the rear of our convoy is a tree line, spaced out around 200 meters way, acting as a barrier between us and the local town just on the other side.

I move towards an approaching American soldier as I continue to steal glances at the storm, I swear that last lightning flash was purple. "Sergeant what have we got?" The soldier stops before me as I address him, his eyes fixed on the nearby locals.

"We stopped when we came across a suspect package in the road, cables sticking out and the metal detectors pick up metal within. We need to move quickly though, Sir, we are transporting fuel and munitions to the Afghan national army. We don't exactly want to get hit out here with our pants around our ankles."

"Williams, get the bot ready and move forward to check the package, once we confirm its an IED I'll move in with the suit." He rapidly nods before moving to the Mastiff to retrieve the robot. I turn towards the crowd of civilians gathered watching us intently. "As long as the locals are around that usually means the Taliban won't do much, it's when they suddenly leave you have to worry."

Soon enough the bot slowly starts to crawl across the road, bouncing across the loose stones as it moves closer to the package. As it inches closer the storm cloud releases an enormous crackle and a ...pink lighting bolt which dissolves immediately in the air. I look to the sky as I see the bolt before turning back to see the bot no longer moving. "Williams? Why have you stopped?"

"I've got no fucking clue boss, the controls have just died." He pauses as the sound of the vehicle engines all simultaneously cut out. Everyone immediately becomes alerted, clasping onto their rifles as they scan the surrounding area. "Did that storm just..."

"OF COURSE NOT!" The Sergeant shouts out. "IT'S JUST A STORM, IT CAN'T CAUSE THE ENGINES TO JUST CUT OUT, PRIVATE GET ON THE HORN AND RADIO HQ!" Well, he certainly enjoys shouting at the top of his lungs.

I move back towards Williams and take the controls off him, only to see a black screen. The lightning strikes seem to be coming in more rapidly, the storm clouds are nearly overhead. "Williams, be a dear and get my suit, I'm gonna have to go in and disarm this thing by hand now."

"Will do," He turns back and makes his way alongside the Mastiff, as I turn to face the Sergeant I hear a gunshot ring out from the distance followed by a loud thud from behind me.

"ENEMY FIRE, 200 METRES, TREE LINE!" Immediately everyone moves to the rear of the vehicles, taking cover behind the natural road bank, before the US forces begin to fire towards the trees. I look down only to freeze at what I see. Blood is splattered against the Mastiff's cage, on the floor is Williams face first with blood pooling below his face.

Another bullet hits the side of the Mastiff waking me from my panic stricken state. I rapidly move to Williams and roll him over, the left side of his face is coated in his blood due to the flesh peeling back from his cheekbone causing him to choke on his blood with each breath. I grab his armour under the shoulders and pull with all my might, dragging him against the broken road towards the front of the vehicles.

A high pitched whistle announces mortar fire before an explosion erupts near our firing line, The Americans 30. calibre machine gun rapidly rains fire towards the Taliban but it doesn't seem to be slowing them down. With determination they continue to move on our location, spreading wide across the rock laden flat lands providing them with ample cover. I cup my hand over my mouth to channel my voice towards my men, "ENEMY INFANTRY 150 METRES, RAPID FIRE!" On queue, my squad begins to return fire on the advancing forces with rapid single shots. Every few seconds another shot would be fired off effectively acting as a constant fire from the in unison firing.

I turn back when I feel someone press against me. An American medic takes Williams and continues to drag him out of the line of fire. "SIR I'LL TAKE CARE OF HIM!" I nod to him before unclipping the rifle from my sling, fully pulling the cocking handle to the rear then releasing and chopping the handle forward. I promptly sprint to the bank on the side of the road and drop down onto my buckle and aiming across the field, immediately lining my scope up with an advancing rifleman.

PHAT PHAT PHAT

The lifeless body soon drops to the floor, losing the grasp of the rifle as his head jerks back. That's one fucker down, time for the next. As I line up the next shot the thunder strikes and lightning are coming in more rapidly. The cloud cover seems to move at an unnatural rate and soon envelopes the surrounding area in darkness, the main sources of light now coming from the flashes of weapons on both sides and the rapid lightning strikes.

PHAT PHAT

The rounds hit him in the leg causing him to drop but he continues to fire. I line the shot up again but before I fire he is hit by machine gun fire. His body erupting with blood as the bullets rip straight through him, small chunks of flesh being thrown from his body. The Americans don't fuck about when it comes to dropping someone that's for sure.

With a barbaric war cry the enemy now rapidly push up across the now open land, only being slowed by the constant machine gun fire. At this rate it will turn to a fist fight, I turn to shout to my men. "FIX BAYONETS!" Probably the one thing that will shit up any soldier is CQB fighting, everyone dreads having to potentially use their bayonet. Rolling on my side I remove my bayonet from my armour and attach it over the flash hider on my rifle, everyone else follows suit.

No matter how much we fire they keep closing in. Thankfully we have taken no further casualties and have a strong line, but this storm is interfering with our electronics, support won't be coming anytime soon.

75 Meters

50 Meters

25 Metres

10 Meters

Soon we can hear then climbing up the bank opposite us, we all lie on our back with rifles aimed against the bank waiting for them to come over. Sure enough, they charge as a large group, immediately everyone opens fire. One climbs directly in front of me and without aiming I take four shots at him.

PHAT PHAT PHAT PHAT

He falls forwards and lands next to me, blood leaking from his body from four holes scattered across his chest. Rising from my spot another approaches me at speed, sprinting towards me. Acting on instinct I charge straight for him, my rifle and bayonet pointed straight for him. In one lunge I force the blade against his sternum and twist it left then right, that normally is enough to do the job but for good measure, as I removed the blade I quickly pulled the trigger almost point blank against him.

PHAT

He went down instantly, blood and bone forcing its way out his back as the round pushes through. Looking to my side I see three Americans injured with one dead, and two more of my men injured. Though there seems to be two dead Taliban for every soldier we had in the firefight. The rest begin to retreat, which was more running away and firing blindly as they did so. We held our positions and continued to fire as they retreated, however one of the American privates began to advance. Despite calls from his Sergeant to stay put he seemed to keep advancing.

"EVERYONE HOLD THIS POSITION AND PROVIDE COVERING FIRE, I'LL GET NUMBNUTS!" I climbed the bank and ran after him across the open field riddled with bullet casings and scattered with the dead. As I approached a bolt of lightning strikes between myself and the Private, the bright flash blinding me instantly as I halted covering my eyes.

There seems to be silence before I heard a second crack followed by agony. My right side begins to burn, feeling as though my flesh is peeling off. The pain rapidly spreads as I collapsed onto my back screaming with all my might in a piss poor attempt of numbing the torture I was enduring.

Soon enough the pain stops and I find myself unable to move, my breathing slowing and becoming more and more shallow. My eyes force closed as I hear my heart rate slow, I began to lose consciousness...

Or die...

Is this what it feels like to die?...

Fuck that private, Fuck that private in particular for getting me killed...