It was one hell of a hot day in Basrah. 'This sure as hell isn't what I signed up for' I thought to myself as I radioed in that all was calm and there was nothing out of the ordinary happening. Since I'd gotten out of basic and gone to Security Police School in Texas, that's all that seemed to be happening. I looked around and gripped my M4 carbine, felt the plastic of the pistol grip and the forearm handle, it gave me comfort to know that I had earned my expert marksman ribbon in basic, and that if anyone wanted to point his weapon at me, he'd have two in the chest and one in the head before he could even register that I had pointed my weapon at him.
All of a sudden, my partner, Garrett, whom I had only known for a few days, screamed that there were insurgents with RPGs heading our way.
"Son of a bitch," I said, more to myself than to him. "Tango 6 this is A1C Hoyt, Airman Garrett has spotted insurgents headed this way, requesting a lot of back up. Over."
"Roger that, Hoyt. Did he say how many insurgents? Over."
"Negative, Six, he did not, but I'm assuming quite a few, he seemed pretty freaked out. Over."
"Alright, Hoyt. Stay put, and prepare yourself as best you can. We'll send a machine gun and a Humvee to your location. Over."
"Roger that, Six. Solidifying our position. Out."
The next few things happened so fast that I'm surprised that I even remember them. I heard an automatic rifle pop off about 8 shots in quick succession. I also heard Garrett's screams. I heard one final shot. Garrett was silent after that. I knew that I had not much time before they decided that he couldn't be alone. I equipped my red dot scope, and waited for them to come through the door.
The first came through the door, and I dropped him. It continued like that for as long as they continued to come at me like that. Finally, they got smart and chucked a grenade into the room where I was. I took cover behind an overturned table. The worst of the blast was absorbed by the table. A few little pieces of metal hit me in the hand. It twinged, but I was ok. I put my carbine on fully automatic. The next time they tried to enter the room, there were 4 of them. They obviously had no idea how to clear a room, since they all came in in a straight line, and I mowed them down with a 15 round burst. That finished off my clip.
I was in the middle of changing my clip when I heard a sound that can only be described as beautiful. The sound of a .50 cal machine gun come to save my ass. One of the insurgents was in the same boat as me, and as I came out from behind the table, he blasted me at least 3 times.
As I lay on the floor bleeding, Staff Sergeant Jones and A1C Matthews came around the corner and lit up the guy who had lit me up. They started to try to patch me up, and get me back to base.
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The next thing I remember after seeing Jones and Matthews standing over me, was waking up in a hospital on the base in Basrah. I looked around as best I could through the morphine, I saw a few other people lying in the ward with me. Two of them were, I assumed, victims of an ambush, maybe they were in a convoy, since both of them had a limb missing. One was missing his leg from the knee down, the other was missing his hand. I looked around some more and noticed that I had a call button. So I pressed it.
As I laid there, a young nurse came into the room and introduced herself as Senior Airman Johnson, and that I was Airman First Class Hoyt, and that she was pleased to see that I was awake.
"How long has it been since I was shot?", I asked, afraid of the answer.
"About thirty-six hours. You'll make a full recovery. You're lucky. The insurgent that shot you was using some old 9mm submachine gun, and was using full metal jacket bullets. Penetrated pretty deep, but stopped before they exited you, so we were able to get all three of them."
"What's gonna happen now, am I being discharged, or just sent to Germany or somewhere for rest?"
"I don't honestly know, Airman. I wish I could tell you. I know that your family will be happy to know that you're okay."
"Oh, Jesus Christ, I didn't even think of them! Do they even know that I was shot!?", I had totally forgotten about my family back in Kansas City. I really did feel guilty about not asking where they were.
"They know, and we'll be telling them today that you'll be okay. I suggest that you get some more rest, the pain must be unbearable." I really hadn't focused on the pain yet, but it was suddenly very evident. I really did need rest, so I nodded and said, "Yeah, I guess so. Good night. If you hear what's going to be done with me, please don't hesitate to wake me."
"Okay. Now you get some rest."
"Yes, ma'am." and I turned over and fell right to sleep.
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"Airman? Airman Hoyt, can you hear me? Airman?"
I woke up with a start and realized that it was SrA Johnson shaking me awake. I looked at her in acknowledgement that she was there, and realized that she had news for me.
"You're being taken to Ramstein in Germany. Your plane leaves tomorrow at 0500. You ought to be able to walk, but you'll have to be in a bed on the plane. Doctor Sims' orders."
I nodded that I had heard her and smiled. Germany. I was finally getting out of the fucking sandbox, I had been there for 5 months. No where in my U.S. Air Force contract had it said that I would be sent here and get shot, but hey, what the hell. I thanked her, and asked for something to eat.
"All we have is MREs and water. Is that okay?"
"Hell yes, ma'am. I'll take just about anything right now I'm so hungry."
"Okay, I'll be right back."
I waited for a few minutes, and she came back with a turkey and mashed potatoes meal. I thanked her and settled back in for the high protein and not much else meal. It wasn't bad, MREs are not as bad as many people say they are. Anyway, after I was done, I got rid of the container in the trash can near the bed and drank a quart of water. I then called SrA Johnson and asked her to wake me about an hour before I was going to be moved. She told me not even to bother going to sleep, since I was going to be moved out with the two convoy victims to Baghdad Airport, which was going to be by helicopter in about two hours.
"Damn. Okay, well, I guess I'll just chill out for a couple of hours then." It was then that I noticed how attractive Ms. Johnson was. Even in the non-flattering clothes that the military issues to women, she was still fine as hell. She had a nice full ass, and I think she caught me checking it out a couple of times. But whenever she did, she just kind of smiled, a bit awkwardly, and played it off. She also had a good rack. I'd say at least 34C. I don't know where the military found her, or what the hell she was doing there when she could have easily been modeling for some clothing line. I would say for a lingerie company, which she'd do well at, but she wasn't skinny enough. I thought she had the perfect body, but some high paid asshole of a CEO probably wouldn't.
Ayway, she had a hell of a body. And when the people came to take me away to Baghdad, I found myself not wanting to leave.
"Dammit, I don't wanna leave here. I like the wildlife too much," the guys who were helping me out smiled and agreed with me, "why the hell can't I just get her email address?"
"Go ahead, fly boy. It's not like we people in the Army don't have anything better to do than cart your wounded Air Force ass around."
"Fine, grunt. I'll go get it," so I walked over and got it. I returned with a big old smile and a lip print on my cheek, "yeah, green suits, suck on that."
They just laughed and helped me out to the chopper.
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