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Furrys at war story
14 years ago
So this is my first story. If I got facts wrong about military stuff call me out on it. Also the buffalo in the story isn't supposed to be me. When I was writing the story I just kept thinking buffalo buffalo buffalo. so this will be the only one with a buffalo in it. One more thing, I'm really new to the furry fandom so... I don't know, if I wrote something that's offensive, call me out on it. or if I wrote something wrong.
Marty and I met when we were ten. I never thought we could be friends at first, it seemed like we were complete opposites. I was a buffalo, he was a fox, I came from a family of military officers, him, hippies. But we became great friends before we knew it. We finished grammar school as the best of friends. Then high school, and college. We weren’t gay, actually We both dated a lot of girls. I dated a squirrel named Ashley in high school for a little bit, and he dated another fox named Rose. In college I dated a leapord while he dated a Lion. Anyway, I was always reminding him that I was going to get drafted because of my military back round and how athletic I was, and he said when I did that he would come with me. I didn’t believe him, he got beat up a lot. Mostly because he could never keep his mouth shut. I can’t count how many fights I’ve had to drag him out of. He wouldn’t of stood a chance though. All of the ass holes in high school and college would make fun of him because he had a family of hippies and he always wore ripped cloths and kept his hair down to his shoulders. And he would fight right back. He took it too far with a badger named Winslow in our freshman year of college and Winslow nearly took his head off when he clawed him. I had to come in and tell Winslow to fuck off but he wouldn’t. I hated to see Marty when he was hurt, so I just picked him up and walked away. He kept trying to run back at him but Marty couldn’t fight for his life. It was better I help him and keep him away from those jerks. Right out of college I was drafted to fight in the marine forces in Iraq, and by God the little Fox signed up as soon as he heared the news. I never would have thought he would ever go through with his promises, but he did. His family, all devoted pacifists, begged Marty not to go but he wouldn’t listen. He wanted to be with me till we died. So we were sent out to a training camp in Ohio. I made it through okay but Marty was the skinniest little dog I had ever met. Our drill sergeant, A colossal polar bear named Sergeant Namer, didn’t go easy on him either. Despite this, he barely made it through the specs. He really wanted to be with me. He cried a lot, which was something he did. Whenever I would hear him I would go over by his bunk and stroke his ears. That always seemed to calm him down a little, I remember I used to do it when we were younger. Whenever he got a bad grade on a test or got called a worthless piece of shit. Whenever I stroked his ears it would always make him feel better. I was doing the usual procedure one night when I met Joey, the Gazel. “Are you guys haven’ some sorta gay fest over there?” He asked. “Shutup he’s scared, He’s never really left home before.” I replied harshly. “Jesus Christ I was just joking” He replied “What’s your name any way?” He asked spitting on my face a little. “I’m Milo and this is Marty, and would you mind not spitting in my face?” I said. “Whatever…” was his reply then he flopped back onto his bunk. “oh!” he said as if he had discovered the cure to the common cold or something “I’m Joey”. “I don’t like you Joey…” I said. “whatever” was his reply again, and he turned over and went to sleep. “It’s too hard.” Marty said. “I don’t think I can go through with this Milo!” “Come on!” I said, “Who knows? We might not even get deployed!” Boy was I wrong the very next morning sergeant Namer told us we were being deployed to where all the fighting is going on in Iraq. I cringed, for Marty’s sake I looked over at him and he had already vomited, which he does when he’s really scared. A porcupine passed out and some linx just screamed “we’re all fucked!” Which wasn’t helping the situation at all. Especially for Marty. Sergeant Namer walked over to him. “Do you need to see a medic private Crowell?” He asked him. “Please” he managed to squeak out. God, I was worried for him. So next came a long flight of me assuring Marty every thing would be fine, which I wasn’t completely sure about. He had a decent shot, and he was fast too but that was about it. Everything else he was pretty much worthless. As I was going through this, Joey was on his feet screaming “Iraq! Yeah baby! Lets go blow the motherfucking heads of those God Damn Europeans!” “You mean the Taliban?” said Marty. “No! I- oh wait… fuck you!” Which was Joeys usual reply when he realized he was wrong. He told me he was drafted but there is no way. The Marines aren’t that desperate. So we arrived in Iraq, where I spent some sleepless nights stroking Marty’s ears, and then before we knew it, we were moving out on a mission to locate a Taliban underground weapons depot. I asked Our Lieutenant, A Buck with gigantic antlers named Lieutenant Burns, If there would be a lot of fire fights on our way to the weapons depot, he calmly replied “yes” and that was it. Marty had been so scared lately he didn’t even vomit when I told him that. I guess he was too tired out. So we trekked in a couple Humvee’s in the direction of the weapons depot. Five hours in we saw something on the horizon. As it neared closer it looked like a U.S Humvee. “What the hell?” Lieutenant Burns exclaimed. “There should be no US vehicles anywhere near our position… Unless… Oh Shit Mayer! Get that rocket launcher and take out that Humvee!” He yelled at a rabbit. Mayer grabbed a rocket launcher and fired. When the rocket hit it’s mark it worked up the biggest explosion I had ever seen! “are you fucking nuts? That was one of our guys!” Screamed Joey. “I wasn’t going to take the risk it could have been a suicide bomber.” Lieutenant Burns replied, his voice shaking a little bit. “You” he said as he pointed towards me. “What’s your name Private?” he asked. “Milo” I replied, “Milo Smith.” “well private Smith I need you to go search that wreckage to see if it was Taliban or…” He swallowed hard, “a friendly fire” great I thought, Our Lieutenant doesn’t even know what to do. We’re screwed. “With” he said “uh… you! What’s your name?” He pointed at Joey. Perfect I thought. “Joey Lincoln sir!” he said and stood up straight and tall like buck private was an impressive rank. “Go with Smith” Joey Glared at me and we both walked toward the flaming Humvee. When we got there I was relieved and disgusted to see two roasted Taliban bodies in the wreckage. I almost vomited. “That’s fucking Kick Ass!” said Joey. “Can you get any more ignorant?” I said to him. “What?” he said, “This is the enemy, this is a good thing!” “Christ you obviously have no clue whats going on here” I said. “What??” he said. “forget it” I replied. So we walked back and the color came back in everyones fur when we told them they weren’t friendly’s and we got back into the Humvee’s and kept going. Right towards the enemy obviously. All of a sudden the driver stopped halfway through the street of a raided village. “What is it?” Marty asked. “I could have sworn I heard a- BAM! A bullet struck the window, just barely missing the horse at the wheel. “Get out of the car!” he yelled and we all got out and took cover behind some houses. Judging by the amount of fire I guessed there were at least twenty of them. We had twenty as well, so we returned fire as hard as we could. I was next to Marty and he was actually popping up and shooting! Probably not hitting anything but still shooting! A big group of them were up on the roof of an old house. I told Marty to throw a hand grenade and he did. And it hit its mark precisely and blew out at least four of them. Marty gasped and dropped back down. He never came back up for the rest of the fight. I judged I had killed at least two when it was over. Joey was bulshitting everyone telling them he dropped ten of them. Marty and I walked forward to take a body count. He was shivering so I went to stroke his ear but he brushed my hand away. He was holding up okay until we came upon the gruesome scene where he had thrown the grenade. It looked like a-… I cant even tell what species they were they were so dismembered. “Marty, are you okay?” I said he vomited in a corner and walked back to look again. He squatted down and just kept picking up sand, and letting it fall in between his paws. “Marty?” I asked again. I saw a tear drop into the sand and that’s when I knew it was okay to stroke his ears. “Holy Shit!” I heard Joey say as he stared at the scene. “That’s what I’m Talking about! Blew the Shit out of those fuckers!” Then Joey saw Marty. “What the fuck is he crying for?” I couldn’t take it any more. All of Marty’s life he was ridiculed for being weak, and different. This was the last guy that was going to hurt him. I got up, and Marty grabbed my vest, “Don’t” he whispered at me, “I can fight my own battles.” I grabbed his paws, “No you can’t.” I told him. I walked over to Joey who was still laughing and I hit him as hard as I could in the face. He was out cold. The Lieutenant saw exactly what happened and ran over. He didn’t get upset with me though. “Get a medic over here.” He said. He must have known what a Jerk Joey Lincoln was already. As did all of the other soldiers because they never mentioned it again. “Thanks” Marty said to me afterwards, “But it’s really unnecessary. I could have taken him if I wanted to.” “Marty, You can’t fight, all you do when you try is get hurt, and I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore” I told him. He hugged me and said “I appreciate it” And that was the last time we talked about the incident. Joey came to a few minutes later and had no idea what happened so we all told him he slipped and fell like an idiot. Remarkably he didn’t have that bad of a concussion so he could keep going with us. We progressed forward again, and in about an hour we reached a large valley. “Okay” lieutenant Burns said, “Lincoln Smith, Crowell and Noel, take the Humvee’s right, we’ll go left” Zach Noel was a big Wolf. At least six and a half feet tall. He was probably the best soldier in our group. “Yes sir” we all replied and got in. Marty didn’t like the feeling of being alone. So his Humvee was practically touching my door he drove so close to me. When we reached what we thought was the end of the valley we stopped. After an hour of waiting we got worried. “Shouldn’t they be here by now?” asked Zach. “Maybe we made a wrong turn?” I said, “we should keep going maybe they were ahead of us somehow.” So we drove longer and longer and the rest of the platoon was nowhere in sight! “Milo.” Said Marty “what are we going to do? We’re in enemy territory!” “I’m thinking” I said. A few minutes of waiting passed and right before we were going to see if we could reach base camp on the radio, an RPG rocket exploded dangerously close to us. Joey yelped and fell on the ground and we dragged him behind a Humvee. “Oh my God! I’m hit!” He yelled. “Just stay here!” I told him. Marty! Get on the 50cal.!” HAK! I looked at him, he vomited again. “Marty come on!” I yelled. “I’m sorry I can’t help it!” He yelled back and jumped on top of the Humvee. Joey had gotten a piece of shrapnel stuck in the space right above his collar bone. “It almost got you in the fucking heart!” I said. “Just shut up and get it out!” He yelled. “I’m not gonna try, it might cause more damage just stay here!” He kept trying to pull it out, like the idiot that he was, so I told Zach to hold him down. I got up and looked around. I figured they would have charged us as soon as the rocket hit but they didn’t. Marty was up on the 50 cal. Looking around too. I was about to say something when some bullets came down and nearly missed me. Marty had spotted something and opened fire. We figured the platoon would find us now that they had gun fire to follow. There weren’t as many as last time, but there were still only four of us and ten or so of them. “Marty aim!” I yelled. He was just holding down the trigger. “AH!” I heard Marty yell. I feared the worst but I found out he only burnt his paws from the turret over-heating. “Christ, Zach leave Joey and get on the 50 Cal., Marty come back down here!” Another RPG missile whistled by the Humvee we were next to. “and find that rpg and take it out!” I screamed. “I see him! Marty yelled and shot in the direction.” I knew he hit him because he gasped again and dropped back down. “Keep shooting!” I said. Zach was much better on the 50 Cal., and he dropped a couple more then it ran out of ammo. As he was jumping back down Zach howled in Pain. “Fuck! My hind leg!” He yelled. He had fallen of the Humvee hard. I dragged him over to where Joey was, where he had given up on trying to get the shrapnel out of his shoulder. Marty and I thought we were doomed when the rest of our Platoon pulled up behind us and opened fire. They killed them all in a matter of seconds. The Lieutenant emerged from one of the Humvee’s. “We were lost too,” he said, “luckily you guys got in this fire fight and put us back on track. The weapons depot can’t be far away now.” “Thanks” I said, “But we have two soldiers over here who are in desperate need of medical attention sir!” The medic arrived and helped Zach first. He pulled up his pant leg and exposed his bloody fur around his bullet wound in his thigh. He was a tough wolf, he only cringed when the medic, a raccoon, dug into his hind leg to get the huge AK-47 round out of his thigh. Joey wasn’t the same though. He was practically bawling. I would laugh but he was going into shock so his life was in danger. The Medic gave him pills to knock him out and went to work. The piece of shrapnel didn’t go in too deep so he only needed a couple stitches. But he was never going to finish the mission. He was to scared. I was glad. Now he knows what Marty feels like every day, and braves it. Marty was fine. He even volunteered to come with me to do the body count. I guess he wanted to get a good look at the guy he shot. When we got there he didn’t even vomit. I did though, he shot him right in the eye and the inside of his head was all… I won’t go into major detail, it was bad, and I had a really weak stomach after that fight. Zach told the Lieutenant what a great leader I was being and he said he would have all of us, Zach Joey Marty and I, promoted to corporals. Eh, better than privates I thought. And we continued toward the weapons depot. We were greeted harshly. RPG rockets flew all over us until we got to cover. Luckily none of them hit their mark. All we had to do now was get a flare up where the entrance of the depot is, retreat, and then call in the B52’s. Marty volunteered to throw the signal flare. But as he was standing up to throw it, I saw an armadillo aim his gun at him, so I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back down, right as the bullets whistled over his head. I jumped up and shot the armadillo. “Thanks” Marty said and he stood back up to throw it. This time it made it and lit. The rabbit called in the air-strike and we all ran to get out of there. Right as I reached the Humvee I turned back and saw Marty, thirty yards away. He had tripped and was trying to get up. “Marty!” I yelled and ran towards him as fast as I could. The adrenaline in my body all went to my arms and I picked him up and carried him all the way back to the Humvee. And we got out just as the bombs went in. I take back that Humvee exploding being the biggest explosion I had ever seen. A giant facility filled with gun powder being blown up by hundreds of pounds of explosives is much bigger. So we all made it back home okay. I was unscathed, and Marty had a sprained ankle but that was it. Instead of getting promoted to Corporal we were all promoted to sergeant. And we each received a different award for bravery. When the guy giving us our pay check asked us if we would want to serve another tour, Marty and I looked at each other, than back at him and we both said “ABSALOUTLY NOT!”
THE END
Marty and I met when we were ten. I never thought we could be friends at first, it seemed like we were complete opposites. I was a buffalo, he was a fox, I came from a family of military officers, him, hippies. But we became great friends before we knew it. We finished grammar school as the best of friends. Then high school, and college. We weren’t gay, actually We both dated a lot of girls. I dated a squirrel named Ashley in high school for a little bit, and he dated another fox named Rose. In college I dated a leapord while he dated a Lion. Anyway, I was always reminding him that I was going to get drafted because of my military back round and how athletic I was, and he said when I did that he would come with me. I didn’t believe him, he got beat up a lot. Mostly because he could never keep his mouth shut. I can’t count how many fights I’ve had to drag him out of. He wouldn’t of stood a chance though. All of the ass holes in high school and college would make fun of him because he had a family of hippies and he always wore ripped cloths and kept his hair down to his shoulders. And he would fight right back. He took it too far with a badger named Winslow in our freshman year of college and Winslow nearly took his head off when he clawed him. I had to come in and tell Winslow to fuck off but he wouldn’t. I hated to see Marty when he was hurt, so I just picked him up and walked away. He kept trying to run back at him but Marty couldn’t fight for his life. It was better I help him and keep him away from those jerks. Right out of college I was drafted to fight in the marine forces in Iraq, and by God the little Fox signed up as soon as he heared the news. I never would have thought he would ever go through with his promises, but he did. His family, all devoted pacifists, begged Marty not to go but he wouldn’t listen. He wanted to be with me till we died. So we were sent out to a training camp in Ohio. I made it through okay but Marty was the skinniest little dog I had ever met. Our drill sergeant, A colossal polar bear named Sergeant Namer, didn’t go easy on him either. Despite this, he barely made it through the specs. He really wanted to be with me. He cried a lot, which was something he did. Whenever I would hear him I would go over by his bunk and stroke his ears. That always seemed to calm him down a little, I remember I used to do it when we were younger. Whenever he got a bad grade on a test or got called a worthless piece of shit. Whenever I stroked his ears it would always make him feel better. I was doing the usual procedure one night when I met Joey, the Gazel. “Are you guys haven’ some sorta gay fest over there?” He asked. “Shutup he’s scared, He’s never really left home before.” I replied harshly. “Jesus Christ I was just joking” He replied “What’s your name any way?” He asked spitting on my face a little. “I’m Milo and this is Marty, and would you mind not spitting in my face?” I said. “Whatever…” was his reply then he flopped back onto his bunk. “oh!” he said as if he had discovered the cure to the common cold or something “I’m Joey”. “I don’t like you Joey…” I said. “whatever” was his reply again, and he turned over and went to sleep. “It’s too hard.” Marty said. “I don’t think I can go through with this Milo!” “Come on!” I said, “Who knows? We might not even get deployed!” Boy was I wrong the very next morning sergeant Namer told us we were being deployed to where all the fighting is going on in Iraq. I cringed, for Marty’s sake I looked over at him and he had already vomited, which he does when he’s really scared. A porcupine passed out and some linx just screamed “we’re all fucked!” Which wasn’t helping the situation at all. Especially for Marty. Sergeant Namer walked over to him. “Do you need to see a medic private Crowell?” He asked him. “Please” he managed to squeak out. God, I was worried for him. So next came a long flight of me assuring Marty every thing would be fine, which I wasn’t completely sure about. He had a decent shot, and he was fast too but that was about it. Everything else he was pretty much worthless. As I was going through this, Joey was on his feet screaming “Iraq! Yeah baby! Lets go blow the motherfucking heads of those God Damn Europeans!” “You mean the Taliban?” said Marty. “No! I- oh wait… fuck you!” Which was Joeys usual reply when he realized he was wrong. He told me he was drafted but there is no way. The Marines aren’t that desperate. So we arrived in Iraq, where I spent some sleepless nights stroking Marty’s ears, and then before we knew it, we were moving out on a mission to locate a Taliban underground weapons depot. I asked Our Lieutenant, A Buck with gigantic antlers named Lieutenant Burns, If there would be a lot of fire fights on our way to the weapons depot, he calmly replied “yes” and that was it. Marty had been so scared lately he didn’t even vomit when I told him that. I guess he was too tired out. So we trekked in a couple Humvee’s in the direction of the weapons depot. Five hours in we saw something on the horizon. As it neared closer it looked like a U.S Humvee. “What the hell?” Lieutenant Burns exclaimed. “There should be no US vehicles anywhere near our position… Unless… Oh Shit Mayer! Get that rocket launcher and take out that Humvee!” He yelled at a rabbit. Mayer grabbed a rocket launcher and fired. When the rocket hit it’s mark it worked up the biggest explosion I had ever seen! “are you fucking nuts? That was one of our guys!” Screamed Joey. “I wasn’t going to take the risk it could have been a suicide bomber.” Lieutenant Burns replied, his voice shaking a little bit. “You” he said as he pointed towards me. “What’s your name Private?” he asked. “Milo” I replied, “Milo Smith.” “well private Smith I need you to go search that wreckage to see if it was Taliban or…” He swallowed hard, “a friendly fire” great I thought, Our Lieutenant doesn’t even know what to do. We’re screwed. “With” he said “uh… you! What’s your name?” He pointed at Joey. Perfect I thought. “Joey Lincoln sir!” he said and stood up straight and tall like buck private was an impressive rank. “Go with Smith” Joey Glared at me and we both walked toward the flaming Humvee. When we got there I was relieved and disgusted to see two roasted Taliban bodies in the wreckage. I almost vomited. “That’s fucking Kick Ass!” said Joey. “Can you get any more ignorant?” I said to him. “What?” he said, “This is the enemy, this is a good thing!” “Christ you obviously have no clue whats going on here” I said. “What??” he said. “forget it” I replied. So we walked back and the color came back in everyones fur when we told them they weren’t friendly’s and we got back into the Humvee’s and kept going. Right towards the enemy obviously. All of a sudden the driver stopped halfway through the street of a raided village. “What is it?” Marty asked. “I could have sworn I heard a- BAM! A bullet struck the window, just barely missing the horse at the wheel. “Get out of the car!” he yelled and we all got out and took cover behind some houses. Judging by the amount of fire I guessed there were at least twenty of them. We had twenty as well, so we returned fire as hard as we could. I was next to Marty and he was actually popping up and shooting! Probably not hitting anything but still shooting! A big group of them were up on the roof of an old house. I told Marty to throw a hand grenade and he did. And it hit its mark precisely and blew out at least four of them. Marty gasped and dropped back down. He never came back up for the rest of the fight. I judged I had killed at least two when it was over. Joey was bulshitting everyone telling them he dropped ten of them. Marty and I walked forward to take a body count. He was shivering so I went to stroke his ear but he brushed my hand away. He was holding up okay until we came upon the gruesome scene where he had thrown the grenade. It looked like a-… I cant even tell what species they were they were so dismembered. “Marty, are you okay?” I said he vomited in a corner and walked back to look again. He squatted down and just kept picking up sand, and letting it fall in between his paws. “Marty?” I asked again. I saw a tear drop into the sand and that’s when I knew it was okay to stroke his ears. “Holy Shit!” I heard Joey say as he stared at the scene. “That’s what I’m Talking about! Blew the Shit out of those fuckers!” Then Joey saw Marty. “What the fuck is he crying for?” I couldn’t take it any more. All of Marty’s life he was ridiculed for being weak, and different. This was the last guy that was going to hurt him. I got up, and Marty grabbed my vest, “Don’t” he whispered at me, “I can fight my own battles.” I grabbed his paws, “No you can’t.” I told him. I walked over to Joey who was still laughing and I hit him as hard as I could in the face. He was out cold. The Lieutenant saw exactly what happened and ran over. He didn’t get upset with me though. “Get a medic over here.” He said. He must have known what a Jerk Joey Lincoln was already. As did all of the other soldiers because they never mentioned it again. “Thanks” Marty said to me afterwards, “But it’s really unnecessary. I could have taken him if I wanted to.” “Marty, You can’t fight, all you do when you try is get hurt, and I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore” I told him. He hugged me and said “I appreciate it” And that was the last time we talked about the incident. Joey came to a few minutes later and had no idea what happened so we all told him he slipped and fell like an idiot. Remarkably he didn’t have that bad of a concussion so he could keep going with us. We progressed forward again, and in about an hour we reached a large valley. “Okay” lieutenant Burns said, “Lincoln Smith, Crowell and Noel, take the Humvee’s right, we’ll go left” Zach Noel was a big Wolf. At least six and a half feet tall. He was probably the best soldier in our group. “Yes sir” we all replied and got in. Marty didn’t like the feeling of being alone. So his Humvee was practically touching my door he drove so close to me. When we reached what we thought was the end of the valley we stopped. After an hour of waiting we got worried. “Shouldn’t they be here by now?” asked Zach. “Maybe we made a wrong turn?” I said, “we should keep going maybe they were ahead of us somehow.” So we drove longer and longer and the rest of the platoon was nowhere in sight! “Milo.” Said Marty “what are we going to do? We’re in enemy territory!” “I’m thinking” I said. A few minutes of waiting passed and right before we were going to see if we could reach base camp on the radio, an RPG rocket exploded dangerously close to us. Joey yelped and fell on the ground and we dragged him behind a Humvee. “Oh my God! I’m hit!” He yelled. “Just stay here!” I told him. Marty! Get on the 50cal.!” HAK! I looked at him, he vomited again. “Marty come on!” I yelled. “I’m sorry I can’t help it!” He yelled back and jumped on top of the Humvee. Joey had gotten a piece of shrapnel stuck in the space right above his collar bone. “It almost got you in the fucking heart!” I said. “Just shut up and get it out!” He yelled. “I’m not gonna try, it might cause more damage just stay here!” He kept trying to pull it out, like the idiot that he was, so I told Zach to hold him down. I got up and looked around. I figured they would have charged us as soon as the rocket hit but they didn’t. Marty was up on the 50 cal. Looking around too. I was about to say something when some bullets came down and nearly missed me. Marty had spotted something and opened fire. We figured the platoon would find us now that they had gun fire to follow. There weren’t as many as last time, but there were still only four of us and ten or so of them. “Marty aim!” I yelled. He was just holding down the trigger. “AH!” I heard Marty yell. I feared the worst but I found out he only burnt his paws from the turret over-heating. “Christ, Zach leave Joey and get on the 50 Cal., Marty come back down here!” Another RPG missile whistled by the Humvee we were next to. “and find that rpg and take it out!” I screamed. “I see him! Marty yelled and shot in the direction.” I knew he hit him because he gasped again and dropped back down. “Keep shooting!” I said. Zach was much better on the 50 Cal., and he dropped a couple more then it ran out of ammo. As he was jumping back down Zach howled in Pain. “Fuck! My hind leg!” He yelled. He had fallen of the Humvee hard. I dragged him over to where Joey was, where he had given up on trying to get the shrapnel out of his shoulder. Marty and I thought we were doomed when the rest of our Platoon pulled up behind us and opened fire. They killed them all in a matter of seconds. The Lieutenant emerged from one of the Humvee’s. “We were lost too,” he said, “luckily you guys got in this fire fight and put us back on track. The weapons depot can’t be far away now.” “Thanks” I said, “But we have two soldiers over here who are in desperate need of medical attention sir!” The medic arrived and helped Zach first. He pulled up his pant leg and exposed his bloody fur around his bullet wound in his thigh. He was a tough wolf, he only cringed when the medic, a raccoon, dug into his hind leg to get the huge AK-47 round out of his thigh. Joey wasn’t the same though. He was practically bawling. I would laugh but he was going into shock so his life was in danger. The Medic gave him pills to knock him out and went to work. The piece of shrapnel didn’t go in too deep so he only needed a couple stitches. But he was never going to finish the mission. He was to scared. I was glad. Now he knows what Marty feels like every day, and braves it. Marty was fine. He even volunteered to come with me to do the body count. I guess he wanted to get a good look at the guy he shot. When we got there he didn’t even vomit. I did though, he shot him right in the eye and the inside of his head was all… I won’t go into major detail, it was bad, and I had a really weak stomach after that fight. Zach told the Lieutenant what a great leader I was being and he said he would have all of us, Zach Joey Marty and I, promoted to corporals. Eh, better than privates I thought. And we continued toward the weapons depot. We were greeted harshly. RPG rockets flew all over us until we got to cover. Luckily none of them hit their mark. All we had to do now was get a flare up where the entrance of the depot is, retreat, and then call in the B52’s. Marty volunteered to throw the signal flare. But as he was standing up to throw it, I saw an armadillo aim his gun at him, so I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back down, right as the bullets whistled over his head. I jumped up and shot the armadillo. “Thanks” Marty said and he stood back up to throw it. This time it made it and lit. The rabbit called in the air-strike and we all ran to get out of there. Right as I reached the Humvee I turned back and saw Marty, thirty yards away. He had tripped and was trying to get up. “Marty!” I yelled and ran towards him as fast as I could. The adrenaline in my body all went to my arms and I picked him up and carried him all the way back to the Humvee. And we got out just as the bombs went in. I take back that Humvee exploding being the biggest explosion I had ever seen. A giant facility filled with gun powder being blown up by hundreds of pounds of explosives is much bigger. So we all made it back home okay. I was unscathed, and Marty had a sprained ankle but that was it. Instead of getting promoted to Corporal we were all promoted to sergeant. And we each received a different award for bravery. When the guy giving us our pay check asked us if we would want to serve another tour, Marty and I looked at each other, than back at him and we both said “ABSALOUTLY NOT!”
THE END
