Chad
Chad clutched the small printout to his chest, and then he lifted it up and looked at it again. A grin had been pressed on his face for several minutes now.
Ace Benjamin Buchard born today 4:54 PM, 7lbs 8 oz. Baby and Mom are doing well.
He had a son. Damn, he would give anything to be there right now. To give Hope a hug and a kiss, and hold their bundle of joy. Chad slid off his bunk and left his tent, wanting to share the news with everyone.
He pulled the tent door open and walked in, waving the paper that announced his son’s birth. “It’s a BOY!” he hollered into the space full of officers.
The cheers and celebration was a light in their world. It had been a tough deployment and it was news like this that kept their feet grounded and their minds set on getting home. He walked around, shaking hands and getting pats on the back, showing off his announcement. This was grounds for a celebratory MRE Dessert stash dash, where members of the unit would donate the best desserts in a box, once a day, only to be taken out when there was a reason to celebrate.
The box was passed around and everyone grabbed a small dessert. Chad selected a small bag of Skittles. They stood around, chatting about the baby, sharing their own baby stories, and reminiscing about getting home, but they had to refocus at one point and continue their work in the desert.
It was later that day that Chad was approached by the Brigadier General. He informed Chad that he was being moved to the north base so that he could get in touch with Hope before returning. They weren’t sending him home, but they were allowing him an opportunity to talk with her. It was the best gift the military could give him right now.
After Chad packed one of his duffel bags, he jumped onto one of the transport humvees where a sergeant handed him an M16. Chad took a moment and inspected the weapon. Disengaged and reengaged it, like any responsible Marine would. There were several men and women being moved to north base for one reason or another, and this was going to be a supply run for the transport unit. He didn’t have a rifle assigned to him but due to the conditions on the ground, all the Marines were armed prior to leaving base.
The loud engines started simultaneously and the lumbering of the vehicles began to move. Chad waved to familiar faces as they headed north; he was looking forward to talking to Hope. The road was rocky and dusty and the heat bit at his skin, sweat pooling at the edge of his uniform. He glanced out the window. This place was hell, and he had no desire to stay here any longer than he had to.
They were on the road for nearly an hour before the vehicle ahead of theirs made a sudden stop, because the vehicle in front of them had stopped. Radio messages were being sent and Chad leaned in to listen to see what was going on. There was a suspect pile on the roadway; scouts had not seen it earlier.
Before anyone could resolve anything or call in the EOD (Explosive Ordinance Disposal Unit), shots could be heard ahead. The radio calls grew more panicked; the officer in charge was calling out orders. There were enemy snipers aiming at the stalled vehicles, and now the pile was a true threat. They were being ambushed, all seven vehicles. Just like they were trained, they disembarked to engage with the enemy. Chad hollered what he was observing from behind the passenger side door, watching the enemy fire down onto the group. Return fire was given, until a blast went off approximately one hundred yards in front of Chad and the Marines behind their humvees. A warning cry that a rocket was incoming forced Chad and the rest of the Marines to find cover in the ditches alongside the roads, and the rocket went overhead, nearly missing their convoy.
Before Chad could cover his head, he watched as the IEDs that were planted by the insurgents prior to the ambush began engaging and blowing up. He saw the body parts of the men and women that were in proximity start flying by his own head and body. Their shrieks for help made his throat close up. He attempted to crawl to the closest Marine he saw, sprawled on his back, his head lurched back in his cries of agony. Before he could reach him, bullets began to whiz by his own head. He scuffled back to a protected border, desperate to get to someone.
He called and radioed for assistance repeatedly, then attempted to position himself to fire his rifle, but he was unsuccessful because of his angle. The firefight continued for what seemed like forever. Solace was only found when the familiar sounds of the aircraft, their Marine Air Combat Support team, was on its way. They just needed to survive the next few moments. When he heard a quell in combat, Chad hurried on his hands and knees to the injured man, and started assessing where the bleeding was the worst. He ripped pieces from the man’s uniform to make a tourniquet, as he called for a medic.
The bullets began to whiz by once more, as he ducked and tried to comfort his comrade. Their basic first aid and combat training was kicking in. All he could do was attempt to prevent blood loss so that he could survive. He offered words of support as the fiery combat continued. He turned his head and saw two women he recognized as medics from his unit come rushing over toward them, their hands over their heads. It was then that time seemed to stop. There was a loud, bright blast. The screams were the last thing Chad remembered, before everything went black.