"Lewis, wake up," Patch's growl woke her up. "Lewis, open your eyes."

Patch's blurred face came into focus, looking at her worriedly.

"'m 'wake," She slurred.

"Take a hit off your inhaler," Patch ordered.

Lewis managed to get a hit off of her inhaler. It helped clear her head. She shivered and looked at Patch.

"What's going on?" Lewis asked.

"We're on mission. I need you awake," Patch said, kneeling down in the back of the truck. "I need you awake."

"Sick," Lewis gritted out, trying not to vomit as the inhaler mixed with her painkillers.

"Doesn't matter," Patch said. "Are you sick or are you injured?"

Lewis shook her head. "Sick."

"Get up," Patch said, standing up. He reached down, offering his hand, and when Lewis took it he heaved her to her feet. Put your hand on your belly and tell me you have to pee."

Keeping her face carefully blank, Lewis did just that.

Patch looked around, then pointed. "You see that pile of railroad ties?"

Lewis nodded, looking over at where Patch was pointing.

"I need you to walk over there, cop a squat, then come back, all right?" Patch said.

"I don't have to pee," Lewis protested as Patch handed her a roll of toilet paper that was squished almost flat.

"You do now. Rub one out, whatever, but go over there," Patch said. "Take your weapon with you, make sure you're locked and loaded."

"All right, all right," Lewis moved to the end of the tailgate.

"No matter what you see, you wipe off, you walk back. If the situation over here changes, you take cover over there, even if you have to lie in your piss puddle. Do you understand?" Patch said.

"Yes, Sergeant," Lewis climbed out of the truck.

"And hurry the hell up!" Patch shouted.

Lewis hurried over to the moss covered pile of railroad ties, moving around them. Something about the way Patch was acting was putting her nerves on edge. She looked around, noticing that it looked like only half the squad was present. Canvas sheets had been erected to block views of the loading dock in front of the open doors of the two middle train cars.

The M-60 normally on the ringmount of the Gypsy Wagon was no where to be seen, but Lewis avoided staring at the pickup truck she had been sleeping in. Her knees still felt shaky and her stomach kept clenching tight. She had to pause several times to get her stomach to steady out and stop churning.

Lewis undid her pants, dropping them down around her knees, pushed her panties down, and squatted. She realized she needed to pee after all, her bladder starting to scream at her as soon as she crouched. Lewis looked down to make sure her panties were really out of the way, reached down to pull her lips out of the way and relaxed.

She was less than two hundred feet away from the four train cars and the woods were almost silent. Quiet enough that she could hear her urine hissing and spattering.

Crap, I got it on my boot heels. That's gonna take me forever to buff out, Lewis thought, looking down.

She wiped, quickly, wadding up the tissue and stuffing it in between two of the railroad ties. She started to stand up when she heard a vehicle moving toward the clearing.

If the situation changes...

Lewis stayed ducked down, rolling to the side, hoping nobody could see her bare butt in the air. She stayed down, reaching down and pulling up her panties.

Great, I just scooped dirt into my underwear, She shook her head, reaching down and fluffing the crotch of her panties to get the worst of the dirt out. She squirmed, pulling her pants up and working the buttons with one hand. She could hear the vehicle stop on the gravel as she started working on her belt. She got her belt threaded, managed to get everything arranged, and crawled around the edge of moss covered wooden stack.

Two black vans had pulled up, both with West German license plates. The driver was present, still behind the wheel, but the passenger seats were empty. Lewis noticed that both vans were riding low on the shocks. Two men, dressed in black uniforms with foreign looking gear and stubby SMG's were walking straight for the train. Stillwater was walking toward two men who had gotten out of van, waving and smiling.

The expression looked weird on his face.

Lewis brought her weapon around, something about the whole thing making her stomach clench with worry. She laid her cheek against the stock, watching Stillwater walk up to the two men, holding his hand out to shake their hand with his left hand, his right hand behind his back.

What is he doing? Lewis wondered.

The one on the right reached out, taking her smiling NCO's hand.

It all came apart.

Patch yanked the guy close, his right hand coming from behind his back. To Lewis it look like he drove three fast punches into the guy's stomach before shoving him away. Lewis saw something dark, sharp looking, dripping in Stillwater's fist.

The other guy was trying to grab his SMG from where it was on the sling as the guy Stillwater shoved away just crumpled to the ground. Whatever it was that Stillwater was holding make the guy scream right as Stillwater was on him, punching him awkwardly three times.

What the hell? Lewis wondered, watching as Stillwater held the guy close, rolling backwards.

Somehow Stillwater had his hand on his M-16, bringing it up.

BLOOP

She saw fire erupt from the end of the underslung M-203 a split second before the van that the door was opening on rocked to the side, the windows shattering outward, the door blowing free.

HOLY SHIT! Lewis thought, staring as the van rocked back onto the four wheels right before the gasoline tank ruptured, flames shooting out of the shattered windows. The door on the other van slid open, revealing men in the same black uniforms. Two jumped out, bringing their SMG's into play.

Stillwater was trying to get his weapon around, tangled in the body of the guy on top of him.

Sawmoth stood up, leveling her M-203 and pulling the trigger. The other van exploded outward, the windows shattering. The two guys staggered, falling to their hands and knees, and Stillwater managed to roll on his side, firing his M-16A1, gravel spurting up around the two men, who were rolling on the ground.

Lewis could see the Marine with the sniper rifle jump off the loading dock, throwing the sling of weapon over his head, sprinting for the water tower.

One was raising his SMG, pointing it at Stillwater.

Lewis exhaled, and went to squeeze the trigger.

There was a sharp tearing sound and bullets hit one man, chopping into the gravel, and connecting to the second man.

Lewis saw the man on the right vomit blood  as he writhed on the gravel. She felt her stomach churn and had to grit her teeth to keep from vomiting, swallowing thickly to keep the bile down.

"Hurry up! Get those rounds on board! Foster, get the Gypsy Wagon fired up! Lieutenant, man the gun on Five-Ton Two," Stillwater bellowed. "Lewis, hold position until further notice. All emplacements, hold your position!"

The Marine had kept climbing, getting all the way to the top and crouching down on the access ledge at the base of the water container. Stillwater was running over to the two bodies. As Lewis watched he drew his pistol, shot each of them in the face twice, then knelt down, his hands going over their bodies.

"Cromwell, get your camera! I need pics of these bodies!" He shouted, rolling them over and searching their back pockets.

Lewis watched as Cromwell came running up. She was waving her short little M-3 grease gun, the end of the barrel glowing a dull red and still smoking.

That had to have been seventy feet, Lewis thought to herself.

Cromwell was digging in her pocket, looking around, her .45 SMG held up at an angle. She tossed something to Stillwater, who caught it and let go of his rifle to hold it up. Lewis watched as he started snapping pictures, getting really close on the faces, on the back of the uniform.

The camera was flashing as Lewis looked away, something pulling her attention to the tree line.

Movement. Four, hard to spot in the woods.

"Time check!" Stillwater bellowed out.

"Twelve more pallets!" Putter called back.

"Someone's jamming!" Foster yelled, his hand going to his headset, pulling it free.

Lewis saw it plainly. Three men slowly emerging from the bushes, carrying weapons. One was going prone, a long barrel rifle lowering into position. Lewis could see the glint off of glass, something shiny, something reflective. She looked at the two burning vans, then at Stillwater and Cromwell, then back at the vans before looking at the three men, who were kneeling down, lifting up rifles.

They can't see them, Lewis realized. As she watched two of them look in her direction. One pointed at his eyes then directly at Lewis. The other one shook his head and both looked back toward the burning vans.

She wanted to pull the trigger. Her brain was screaming at her to pull the trigger. She felt frozen, unable to move. If she pulled the trigger, they'd see her, know where she was.

She suddenly had to pee again.

She gritted her teeth hard, all of her muscles tensing up.

It forced her finger to curl, to put pressure on the trigger.

The weapon went off, suddenly, shockingly loud. Her weapon bounced up slightly, losing her sight on the men.

Stillwater was already on his stomach, Cromwell following suit. The rifle barrel sticking out of the bushes was at an angle, unmoving. The other three men were running forward, heading for cover behind the burning vans.

Lewis fired again, one of the guys pitched over, his foot kicking at the gravel.

"ANYONE GOT EYES!" Stillwater called out.

Lewis fired again, one guy holding his gut as he went down screaming. The other went prone, staying prone, firing wildly in Lewis's direction. The bullets chopped at the trees off to her right, missing by easily fifty feet.

Lewis exhaled as the guy got to his feet, preparing to lunge around the van. Stillwater and Cromwell were both facing the wrong way.

The rifle banged out, the sight jumping. When it settled, Lewis could see the other guy laying face down.

Such a little noise. Such a little kick. The rifle barely moves. I can barely feel the kick, Lewis thought.

"JENNINGS! DONNER! RAKE THE FAR TREELINE WITH A FULL BELT!" Stillwater bellowed.

Lewis screamed as the fifties opened up, tracers zipping from the big fifty-caliber general purpose heavy machineguns. The Trees at the woodline were exploding, smoke rising from the holes blown in the trunks.

Armor piercing incendiary, Lewis thought, Jesus Christ. Belt each, that's two hundred rounds from the guns.

"TIME?" Stillwater yelled when the guns suddenly went silent.

Both men called out that they were reloading.

"EIGHT PALLETS!" Came the callback.

"STEP IT UP! WE'RE COMPRIMISED!" Stillwater yelled. "GIVE 'EM ANOTHER BELT! EVERYONE HOLD POSITION!"

Isn't someone going to notice all this? Two belts of fifty-cal, two M-203 rounds? My rifle? Isn't anyone going to notice? Lewis thought.

She had to pee really badly.

The fifties opened up again, raking the woodline. Lewis heard trees collapsing, watching the big half-inch thick bullets blow craters out of the bigger trees, the armor piercing rounds blowing clear through the smaller ones, spraying incendiary cores out the other side.

"FOUR LEFT!" Came the shout as the gunners yelled they were reloading.

Lewis saw the Marine on the sniper rifle fire once, off to the side, and Lewis looked over to see what he was shooting at.

This is a full blown fire fight, Lewis thought to herself. This is goddamn crazy. This is peacetime!

"GET READY FOR EVAC! DRIVERS TO VEHICLES!" Stillwater yelled. Lewis saw people running for the vehicles.

"TWO LEFT!" Foster shouted.

"MOUNT UP!" Stillwater bellowed, running for the Gypsy Wagon.

Lewis scrambled to her feet, sprinting for the pickup truck. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Marine slide down the ladder, the sniper rifle on its sling. Lewis felt a sharp bite on her leg, like she'd been bitten by a dog, or stung by a wasp, but kept running.

"LOADED! GO GO GO!" Foster yelled. "STILL BEING JAMMED!"

Lewis grabbed the side of bed, throwing herself up over, into the bed, landing hard on her stomach. Her LBE twisted and the magazine pouch punched into her gut hard.

Rifle fire started, bullets punching through the sheet metal of the bed right over Lewis's head. She felt a burning line across her butt, like someone had slapped her across the ass with a stinging nettle. She tried to burrow into the steel bed of the truck as more bullets thumped against the bed of the truck.

"WE NEED THAT EXFIL FIRE SUPPORT!" Stillwater yelled. The fifties cut loose again as the Gypsy Wagon went into gear. Lewis started to get up and someone landed half on her, smashing her back against the bed.

"MEDIC!" whoever was laying on her called out.

Lewis heard the distinctive rapid fire chugging of the M-60 cut loose. Men screamed and Lewis heard bullets clanking off of metal. Gravel sprayed out the back of the Gypsy Wagon as it fishtailed for a second before roaring forward.

Someone landed on Lewis's back, driving the wind from her and her canteen into her kidney.

"They want us bad," Cromwell yelled. Lewis wiggled, trying to crawl out from under her. "Stay down, goddamn it, you're wounded!"

Lewis heard the M-60 fire, right before M-16 fire and the distinctive chattering of Cromwell's M-3 joined it. The truck slewed again and Lewis heard more impacts of bullets onto metal.

"GO GO GO!" Stillwater yelled. "LT, keep your fat fucking head down, you stupid ass!"

The vehicle slid around the corner, the engine roaring. Lewis could feel the bed vibrating, feel something under her shuddering.

Every time Lewis tried to rise up Cromwell slammed her back down. "Stay down, goddamn it."

The brakes suddenly locked up and the vehicle slid sideways.

"GET IN GET IN GET IN!" Stillwater yelled.

Lewis tried to get up but someone threw and M-60 on her, then landed on her. Someone else landed next to her.

"Hold her down, goddamn it," Cromwell snapped.

"ALL IN! GO GO GO!" Stillwater called out. Lewis tried to raise up but felt hands grab her, pinning her to the bed. Lewis felt someone straddle her, felt them rip the back of her BDU pants rip.

"Hand me my fucking bag," Cromwell snapped. "I need my stapler."

The Gypsy Wagon roared as it lunged down the road, tires screaming on the pavement. The sound of the pickup drowned out the clacking of the stapler as Cromwell went to work.

Lewis was staring at the rucksack next to her head when it suddenly moved, Roberts landing on the bed next to her. His eyes were wide, he had dirt and blood on his face. She felt his hand grab hers, squeezing tight.

"I've got you, Lewis," Roberts said. "You'll be fine."

"Done, hold him down," Cromwell snapped. "Stillwater! We've gotta stop!"

Lewis stared as Roberts's eyes rolled back in his head, his eyelids fluttering. She could feel Cromwell switch from straddling her to straddling Roberts.

Lewis watched, holding tight to Roberts's hand and blood drooled from his slack mouth.

"I've got you, Roberts," Lewis said. "You'll be fine."