Cherry Pit (IC)

[Delphio]

JANUARY 8th, 1967
OPERATION: CEDAR FALLS
BIN DURONG PROVINCE

“Touching down in eight minutes, LZ in sight.” came the pilots voice. Staff Sergeant Charles Lauton nodded to himself at this. He stood toward the front of the helicopter, just behind the two pilots’ seats, holding on to one of the grips to his right. In his left hand he held his M16 at his side, locked and loaded and the safety off. “Alright boys, listen up” he said, his voice assertive and clear, “this is our first Op. Operation ‘Cedar Falls’ as brass is calling it. The overall goal; to fracture the ‘Iron Triangle’ and give Charlie a good sucker punch. Now this Iron Triangle is a massive area of one hundred and twenty square miles, a military stronghold garrisoned by both NVA and the VietCong. It’s positioned snuggly between the Saigon River and the Tihn River. Overall enemy numbers are unknown, but I expect it’s going to be buzzing like a hornets’ hive once we touch down. Our South Vietnamese friends are going to be joining us in this offensive, along with a brigade of paratroopers and armored cavalry.”

Lauton paused for a minute as the helicopter shook slightly, but then continued on smoothly. “Just a little turbulence there, no cause for concern.” the pilot said. Lauton shifted his feet slightly, gripping his rifle and then continued, looking intently as his eight man squad ,”Our squad has no immediate direct orders. Our role is simple, take our place up front and join the leading charge against their defensive line. Additional orders can be expected, but for now, they’re simple; push through the enemy line. Remember your training and keep your heads down. This is no place for heroes or cowards. Questions?”

”This is Eagle Eye to all squad leaders, be advised we have confirmation of enemy anti-armor units and mortars, keep your heads low and keep our cavalry protected.”

[Herador]

JANUARY 8th, 1967
OPERATION: CEDAR FALLS
BIN DURONG PROVINCE

Even over the chop of the rotors, Christian overheard Chuck talking to the pilot. He shifted in his seat, turning himself to look fully out the door and give his oversized pack some more room to breathe, hoping whoever was on the next seat over wasn't too cramped. Not that they'd complain once the rounds started flying. Lighting a smoke, he scanned the jungle floor and shuffled his legs anxiously, overhearing on the radio that the VC had brought in heavy weapons, which meant he was going to have a busy fuckin' day.

Christian started to tap his feet in time with his fingers on the rifle that laid on his lap, singing idly while puffing on the smoke.
"When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me"

He was doing his damnest to ignore the green inferno below him, and especially the angry men waiting to try and kill him. Christian had scraped almost all identifying marks that would single him out as a medic, but once GI's started to drop, that would all go out the window and he knew it. Not that it mattered much, if he was going to catch a bullet and get his Ma and Dad that insurance money, he was going to do it helping some other poor kid see his parents again. Absently he patted the bible that he kept in his M52's front pocket, he felt the familiar lumps of the rosary. Christian sure as hell wasn't no preacher, and he wasn't no Catholic 'neither, but he was going to let anyone who caught a bullet see the Lord above with all the help he could offer.

"If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
Or the mountains should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry, no I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me"

Glancing back, he tried to catch Chuck's eyes, hoping for some kind of reassurance there. They had made him a Corporal for some fuckin' reason, and if push came to shove he might have to lead some of these poor bastards, and Christian really wasn't looking to carry that kind of weight on his shoulders. Or it could have been Walsh, not that Christian knew enough about Walsh to know if that was any better. He hadn't known Chuck long, or even well, but he trusted the gruff asshole, who seemed to know what he was doing, at least most of the time. With a sigh Christian looked back out, praying that none of the fella's in this chopper were gonna bite it this time.

[Deutschess Kaiserreich]

Paul felt the wind of the spinning rotors on his face. Nothing new from the windswept streets of New York but there was something in the air. Unlike the refreshing sun and fresh air, the sun was hidden by distant encroaching clouds and the air was thick and soupy. Instead of babes and beaches, all he had seen was endless jungle and women who looked at him with loathing. Saigon had been an experience. Ah, the shops milling down the streets, the tree-covered boulevards, great food, and the people. Oh, the people. Sure some had been hostile but the others had been so friendly!

Right now as Paul ducked under the rotors to the captain who asked for questions. Paul asked as requested, "We gonna kill some Charlie or what?"

[Calindelo]

Private Tyler Brice Paul Jr.
January Eight, Nineteen Sixty Seven

"We are, but I don't know about you Jackson, If you can actually hit the gooks then you'll probably kill them. Heh Heh Heh." Tyler said facetiously.

"You know what..." Tyler muttered to himself while shuffling through his pockets and eventually halting his search after grasping his left chest pocket, where he pulls out a pack of Marlboro reds then proceeds to put one stick on his mouth and light it using the steel Zippo lighter he retrieved from the adjacent chest pocket. Tyler proceeded to take a deep puff of the cigarette. "Since Corporal Benjamin E. King over there also started smoking, it wouldn't hurt if i did too." Taking a deep puff once more, he raised a cigarette from his Marlboro pack and began to hand it over to the direction of Pvt. Paul Jackson. "Want one, Paul? I heard these was much healthier than back then."

[Endem]

Pvt. Herman Lopez Salvador

Ahh, the jungles of Vietnam, he felt great in it, the chopper turbine made noise but at the same a nice chilly wind, he could fly like it the entire day, then he overheard the shout from Paul

"Sure thing we will!"

Herman turned his face to face Paul, this was just great, he met new people and finally got out of the deserts in New Mexico, it felt like he was made to serve in this war. Herman heard about some people back in the US is very discontent with this war, why would they, everything was going just great for Herman.

[Helowi]

Private Harvey Jones
Harvey was sitting down on the plane, getting ready to fight his first battle of the war. There were a couple of other men on the helicopter with him, two of which were smoking, and one of which yelled enthusiastically earlier. Harvey never really got to know any of them, as he was usually taking photographs, sometimes of nature, and sometimes of the lives of everyday soldiers.

Harvey was getting ready for the fight, and had responded to Paul’s comment. “Yeah we are baby.” He said, but so quite that you really couldn’t hear him over the loud noises outside. He repeated the key points in his head:

press forward, remember my training, stay low. he kept repeating to himself in his head.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Private Daryl Jeffries clutched his rifle, it's butt resting on the floor of the chopper. He smacked his lips loudly as he chewed his gum and looked around, glancing at his fellow squad members. He mad eye contact a few times, but never for long. Daryl just couldn't stay still. Excitement was part of it, definitely, but so was his nerves. The idea of combat filled him with so many different feelings, and Daryl knew that they would see plenty of fighting. Or at least, he thought so. His eyes fell to the expansive jungle below him, and his mind wandered. He thought of all the VC and NVA that could be hiding there, and yet it seemed impossible that there were, because if anyone was down there, they would be perfectly concealed. That is, until the Agent Orange and napalm started raining down. He checked his magazines again, making sure the tape on his "dual mags", a trick he learned from some more veteran soldiers, was secure and that he had enough ammunition for his trusty M16. Suddenly, he had a thought. He nudged the man next to him, a medic who he thought was named Christian, and said, "Hey, buddy, see that down there?" He pointed out of the chopper and to the jungle, "Reminds me of what I saw the other night, when your ma dropped her panties." Daryl roared with laughter at the barely chuckle worthy comment on the other man's mother. "Naw, but seriously," he went on, "You're the medic, and I just wanted to know how much of a pussy you are. Don't wanna get my ass shot and wait on you to patch me up, when you're actually just filling your boots with piss behind a tree!" Once more, he laughed much harder than the comment worth. Daryl punched Christian in the arm, "I'm just fuckin' with you, my man. Don't take it personal, ya hear? I think we can be the best of friends!"

[Delphio]

“Approaching the LZ, taking us down to land, be ready to move.” the pilot said. Staff Sergeant Lauton looked to the seven men before him, “Right, safeties off boys, stand up. Jeffries, Paul, put out those cigarettes, now.”
The helicopter lowered into a grassy clearing the size of a high school football field. Lauton saw another chopper land just across from them, and two more touching down just past the trees. Several more birds had landed short of where they were, and then of course there were more inbound. A large portion of the attacking front were already ahead, and most of them were ground oriented. Armored divisions were moving in from the south and southwest, and a third primary offensive effort was launched from the northern side of the Iron Triangle.

This particular advance was situated in the southeastern corner of the Triangle, which sat snug against the Tihn River. Aside from the primary offensive efforts, numerous skirmisher units and “lesser efforts” were concentrated all around the designated area, as to force the enemy to spread their forces and prevent them from concentrating their defensive efforts. The offensive unit Staff Sergeant Lauton and his team were apart of was primarily infantry and light armor with air support, meaning attack-helicopter sweeps.

The helicopter shook barely as it touched down, and Lauton stepped toward the door, looking back to his men. “Alright, Alpha-Three, on me! Move, move let’s go!” he waved for them to follow as he leapt out into the tall shin-high grass. “Go! Go!” the pilot urged the seven men on. Lauton heard a high pitched whistling, followed by a violent explosion just ahead of the chopper, then another off to the left, dangerously close to the adjacent helicopter. Damn. Mortar fire...
“Move! On me!” Lauton called, waving for his men to follow close as he bolted for the tree line ahead, which was a good seventy yards away. He ran at half-pace, constantly looking back at his squad. The squad to the left was also a nine man unit, and their leader was doing similar to Lauton.

More whistling could be heard as another mortar round slammed down dangerously near just to the right, sending a spray of dirt and grass. A violent explosion and a screeching of metal could be heard causing Lauton to spin around. The other teams’ helicopter hadn’t lifted off quick enough, and as a result had been hit point blank by a mortar round, erupting in a fiery explosion.
Snapping himself out of the brief shock, he yelled again,”Move dammit!”

More helicopters came into view from above, lowering towards the clearing and surrounding areas. A small three-set group of half tracks could be seen in the distance, barreling through the thick brush onward toward the enemy line just through the jungle.
The defensive line itself was roughly a mile ahead through the thick trees, though Lauton wouldn’t be surprised if there weren’t VC hiding just up ahead.

[Calindelo]

Private Tyler Brice Paul Jr.
January Eight, Nineteen Sixty Seven


Tyler disapproved of the Sarge's order to put out his cigarette and scoffed as a sign of protest, but eventually followed his order anyway. Tyler took one last deep breath of the cigarette and exhaled as he threw the butt outside the Huey's door. He grabbed his M1 Carbine by the grip, removed the safety, and proceeded to follow Staff Sergeant Lauton climb as he exited the helicopter. Tyler pressed his helmet down his temple as he felt the hard slaps of wind from the chopper's blades. From reflex, Tyler looked at the direction of the falling object emitting the exasperating whistling noise. His eyes widened as two of the objects fell near their positions, causing an enormous explosion.

"Mortars! Move! Move!" Shouts Tyler, directed entirely to his squadron, as he signaled them to follow our squad leader. After a few seconds, he tightly held his rifle by its forearm and ran towards the bearing of Lauton. Whilst running, a mortar hit another helicopter, resulting in a massive fireball, a few good feet away from the explosion range. Tyler fell backwards on his rear from being startled and stared at the burning helicopter in a brief period of shock, until he heard Lauton's instruction to once again move, which pulled him out of said shock. Tyler stood up, using his rifle as support and quickly began sprinting, he passed Lauton by a few feet and stopped, as he once again looked back at the exploded helicopter, specifically at the bodies of the soldiers caught in the blast as they lie on the grass covered with either blood or flames.

[Walabam]

Private Martin Shaw Jr.
January 8th, 1967
Bin Durong Province

"Hey, Martin, come here! Look at this, isn't it beautiful?"

Martin grinned like an idiot while he looked at the photograph in his hand. It was a photograph of Helen McAllister, a girl whom he had fallen in love with. Memories started to pour in while he stared at the picture, focusing on it for a few good minutes. Martin's grin slowly turned into a frown, as the sounds of war became more and more apparent while the helicopter neared the landing site. He looked at his teammates - the other cherries - silently studying their behaviors and personalities. He noticed the excitement coming from a number of them, before he shook his head in a judgemental manner.

"These idiots think it's a fuckin' game," Martin muttered under his breath. Although he was always ready for a confrontation, he knew now wasn't a time for any kind of provocation. Afterall, the enemy was not on board, but rather, on the ground, probably hidden perfectly inside the thick vegetation. Martin took a final glance at the photograph in his hand. He put the photo up to his lips, pecking it lightly with his lips, before sliding the photograph into one of his empty pockets. He inspected his guns visually, ensuring they were loaded and in good condition for a firefight. He understood very clearly what was going to happen once the chopper landed.

The grass fluttered as the helicopter's propellers came closer to the ground. "Right, safeties off boys, stand up," the Sergeant shouted to overpower the loud noise coming from the helicopters, "Jeffries, Pa..." Martin wasted no time nor energy to listen to what he deemed unnecessary. He flicked the safety switch off right before he put on his serious face - which wasn't of much difference from his usual look.

“Alright, Alpha-Three, on me! Move, move let’s go!”

Martin followed behind the Staff Sergeant, right after Private Tyler, whom had been on the same chopper as him earlier. He gave Tyler a look that seemed to say "let's do this" while he ran together with the duo ahead of him. He turned back to look at the squad briefly, shouting at the top of his lungs; "Let's go, let's g..." A high-pitched whistle followed by an explosion had cut off Martin mid-sentence. Martin only managed to catch a quick glance of the aftermath once he turned back to the direction they were running. Chaos was an understatement to what had happened in his immediate surroundings. Mortar shells raining down in the vicinity reminded him of a story his father had told him.

Another loud whistle closed in as Martin ran alongside Lauton and Tyler. One of the other helicopters had been hit by the whistling mortar, before erupting into a massive fireball. Private Tyler had fallen on his rear, while Lauton simply froze for a few seconds in shock. Martin, too, was startled by the explosion and froze in place. The reality of the war started to set in as Martin watched the burning victims who were still alive scream in agony. “Move! On me,” Lauton shouted, apparently recovering from his shock a lot quicker than Martin. At that moment, Martin wished he could say "I'm done, I'm going home," but it was obvious he couldn't. Lauton and Private Tyler were both quite a distance away before Martin regained composure and sprinted towards the duo.

"Come on, brothers! Move it!" Martin shouted for the last time at the helicopter the trio had alighted.

[Deutschess Kaiserreich]

Paul felt the chopper vibrate slightly and then they were on the ground. The ground was covered in knee-high grass and above the sound of the chopper distant gunfire could be heard. “Alright, Alpha-Three, on me! Move, move let’s go!” The captain yelled as he jumped into the grass. “Go! Go!” The pilot yelled over the deafening sound of the rotors

Following his orders, Paul lept out of the chopper yelling. This was his first battle. Gees, this would be a story to tell the babes back in york. The air had suddenly cleared and the suffocating feeling in his lungs had gone. He walked among the grass with his rifle lowered to his sight. The clouds had cleared and the sun was great. He should have gone to the beach when he was still on leave. The choppers had peeled off away and the only one was-

BOOM!

Everything faded away for Paul. It was just darkness and his ears ringing like church bells. He felt himself drop to his knees clutching his ears as tightly as possible. He felt his gun fall into the grass and roll away. Dirt fell onto him like rain and pebbles pelted every part of his exposed skin like feeling like boulders being thrown at him. He then felt nothing for a moment before his sight came back. His ears were still ringing but hell but he saw the blue sky once more and white trails on that very canvas descending onto him...

He leaped onto his feet running as fast as possible grabbing his rifle. His feet dug into the wet grass and he felt himself scream He tasted dirt for a moment before everything went numb in his face. Paul felt his hand dig into the dirt and tears water the grass. His hearing came back all off a sudden. He heard the screams, yells, explosions, and just... chaos. He staggered upwards in the open and looked around confused as more and more shells hit the ground. Men were running past him and Paul thought orders were being given but he couldn't move. He tried with all his strength to move his feet but they just wouldn't move. He couldn't even move his head but in the corner of his eye, he could see explosions coming closer and closer. He tried to yell for help but he couldn't. He was just stuck

[Helowi]

Private Harvey Jones
Harvey kept repeating the instructions in his head, to make sure that his first battle wasn’t his last. He had looked around for a second at the other men in the chopper. The two men who had been smoking were forced to put it out by the Sergeant, and a black man next to him was looking at a photo of a white girl, presumably some sort of love of his.

Before Harvey knew it, the helicopter was on the ground. “Alright, Alpha-Three, on me! Move, move let’s go!” Lauton said, as Harvey checked to see if his gun was loaded before he quickly exited the plane. As he started to exit, Harvey heard a giant explosion in he distance. This was the time he had realized, training was over, and it was time for war.

Harvey has followed the sergeant and stayed low, as he was behind Paul, and Shaw. He was making quick work, staying pretty close behind the group. Suddenly, Harvey had heard a whistle in the distance, when soon after that, a huge explosion from a mortar had hit, causing Harvey to spin around, seeing the helicopter of the other group. All Harvey could get out was a soft “my lord.” before he went into a slight shock.

”Move dammit!” the Sergeant said, quickly knocking him out of shock, along with a couple of the other men. He turned around and saw the men already quite a distance away, and Shaw yelling at the others to keep moving forward. Harvey ran low, still trying to catch up to the Sergeant as he was a distance away. “Come on guys, get the hell over here.” Harvey shouted to the remaining men.

[Herador]

One of the guys behind Christian was slapping his shoulder and making jokes, Christian turned back around after giving him a smile and a nod. Nerves? Nerves. Christian felt the Huey start to descend, so he shifted his rifle back to it's ready to fire position and spit his smoke out the side of the chopper.

The Huey hit the ground and Christian was the first off, moving his way towards the treeline trying to keep up with Chuck as they charged towards the treeline, stopping abruptly as the mortars that had been inbound blew up behind him, with a large secondary explosion. Wheeling around he took quick stock of the situation, no one seemed to be alive from the hit Huey, but Jackson was lying on the ground, breathing, but not moving. Staying low, Christian ran over to him and gave him a quick once over.
"I'm not seeing blood, let's get you out here, bud."

He grabbed him by the shoulder strap of his M1956 and started to drag him back to where the rest of the squad was taking cover. If rounds were flying, Christian couldn't hear them, he was focused on getting Jackson back into cover so he could start providing first aid.
"Fucking knew this was going to happen." He growled, shifting his already heavy kit to try and move a bit fast. "Hold on man, you're gonna be fine!" He yelled back, picking up his pace and standing a bit taller.

Finally reaching something like cover, Christian proper Jackson up and looked into his pupils. "Tell me your name and how old you are." With his other hand, Christian pulled out his first spare canteen, taking the top off one handed he splashed water on the scrapes, he took the time to give him a quick once over. No blood, he wasn't hit by shrapnel or a bullet. The concussion knocked him on his ass, probably. Christian snapped his fingers.
"Follow my fingers Jackson, gotta make sure your noggin's workin' as intended. Anything hurt like it's sprained? Did you twist anything when you fell?"

The kid looked fine, bashed up but fine, if he wasn't heavily concussed he could keep going if he didn't push it too hard.

[Endem]

Pvt. Herman Lopez Salvador

The Huey landed on the ground and the whole squad left in a little bit of hurry, their commander giving orders to follow them.

"Alright, let's get Viets some led"

He started to run just behind the commander, one of the squadmates was lying on the ground, probably just unconscious, and Herman, Herman was just running as fast as he could, into the forest and for the Viets, he really felt it now, war was something he was created for.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Daryl readied himself as the chopper landed, bouncing as it hit the ground. He followed his fellow squad mates as they rushed out of the helicopter. As he feet made contact with the long grass, he could hear a mortar hit huey as it took off, the sicking sound of metal twisting and men's screams as they died. He refused to look and went on. He saw one man go down, at first thinking him dead. Then the teams medic, Christian, brought him to his feet and dragged him to cover. Lucky break for him, Daryl thought. He saw Staff Sargent Lauton make it to the treeline before he did, and Daryl kept running, tensing up as he feared a mortar or bullet finding him and taking him out before the war would really start for him. His worst fear didn't come true as he made it to the treeline, taking cover near the rest of his squad behind a tree. He doubled over, his hands on his knees, as he breathed heavier than usual. Most of it wasn't from the running, more from the blood rushing through his veins as fear coursed through them as well. "Damn," Daryl said, "Haven't....ran that fast since.....I had to run outta Sarah McNullty's....room when her parents came home early," he said with a chuckle and between breaths. "So, Sarge, where the hell we headin'?"

[Deutschess Kaiserreich]

-SNIP-

"I'm... I'm fine." Jackson said as he felt the numbness fade away. The sound of explosions was now deafening... what to do now?

Jackson asked looking at the many explosions spreading the open area and asked his savior, "What... What do we do now?"

[Delphio]

Sergeant Lauton saw Jackson go down, though fortunately Corporal Thorpe managed to grab him up. Lauton winced as another mortar struck round close, flinging more dirt and mud about. He turned and made a beeline for the trees ahead, a nearby blast causing him to stagger slightly before regaining his balance and continuing ahead. He could hear gunfire just ahead, and the continuous whistling and exploding of mortar rounds all around.

More Huey’s touched down in the field, dropping off more nine man squads who all were making a run for the trees. Lauton looked back for perhaps the tenth time, calling to his men ,”Stay on me, stay frosty, we’re pushing through these woods!” A mortar round slammed down nearby, between a pair of soldiers from a different squad. Both were blown in opposite directions. One lay unmoving, dead on the ground. The other raised up slightly, screaming in agony as he gripped at the stump where his right leg had been blown off. Lauton did all he could to tune out the screams.

The sergeant trotted on, moving past trees and constantly jerking his head around, keeping track of his eight men. The gunfire ahead grew louder over the faint mortar blasts, which were hardly hitting here within the dense trees. M16’s, Tommy guns, carbines?... AK-47’s... Lauton distinguished the gunshots by sound, his ears perked sharply at the blasting sound made by an AK-47 rifle. “Hostiles ahead!” Lauton yelled ,”Eyes sharp, safeties off! Keep low!”

Corporal Walsh took cover behind a nearby tree, his back pressed against the trunk. He checked the safety on his M16, then slipped out the magazine, satisfied to see the topside bullet aligned. He slipped the magazine back in with a click. Sergeant Lauton was ahead by several paces, and his squad mates were just off to his left. Not wanting to fall behind, Walsh stepped around the tree and raised his M16. His critical mistake was not keeping vigilant. A savage scream split the air as a VietCong militia leapt from behind a nearby tree, wielding a vicious looking machete.

Walsh froze, the enemy guerrilla fighter charging at him, blade raised. The VC was a young looking man, shirtless with olive drab khakis and a bright red bandanna on his face.
As his enemy drew close, Walsh forced himself to action. He squeezed the trigger and released a burst of automatic fire into the chest of the charging man, who cried out and collapsed to the ground. Another shout could be heard nearby, another VC fighter leaping around a tree and opened fire on Lauton with an assault rifle. Lauton plastered himself to a nearby tree and returned fire, shooting short bursts at his attacker.

More gunfire broke out as three more VC opened up further to the right on the rest of the squad. Walsh took cover behind a nearby tree, breathing heavily as the enemy blasted away at the squad.

[Endem]

Pvt. Herman Lopez Salvador

For most of the time, he was figuratively on top of Lauton's heels, then the VC attack began, four gunners, one attacking their Sergeant, NO Lopez would not allow for it and he opened on the attacker and hiding behind a tree, if he didn't kill the Viet he definitely scared him off.

Some bullets went into the bark of the tree Herman was behind effectively pinning him down, such a shame he was hoping to get at least some more rounds into the Viets.

[Helowi]

Private Harvey Jones
Harvey was following close behind the fellow members of his team. He had heard more screams as they were pressing forward, but Harvey did his bet to just continue on and ignore it, and to focus on his own well being. Harvey followed close behind until he yelled “Hostiles Ahead! Eyes sharp, safeties off, stay low!”

“Yes sir!” Harvey said while looking for cover in the area, deciding to go behind a nearby tree for cover. As Harvey was getting ready to fire, a VC jumped out of a tree, tackling Harvey to the ground, and attempting to dig the machete he was carrying into harvey’s scull, but missed his head and scraped his shoulder.

Harvey pushed the VC away after a short fight and fired his Carbine at him, scaring the VC away, and one of his friends as well. Harvey then took cover behind the tree, although didn’t call for the medic yet as he wanted to wait until the firefight they were in ceased for a second. Harvey checked his ammo to make sure it was loaded, turned the safety off, and held his fire as there was still a lot of shooting going towards his tree.

[Calindelo]

Private Tyler Brice Paul Jr.
January Eight, Nineteen Sixty Seven


Turning around and realizing that Staff Sergeant Lauton has already took off, with Corporal Walsh and Private Salvador, Private Paul held his carbine properly, and headed straight to the treeline, in a low crouched position, but quickly abandoned that idea in favor of sprinting in full speed after an additional of two mortars have landed near his position. Once he catched up with his squadmates, he headed full speed into one of the trees and slid in a sitting position behind the said tree. He looked to his right and saw a shirtless Vietnamese man wielding a machete headed straight for Corporal Walsh. Tyler Aimed at the gook and pulled the trigger, however, his M1 Carbine did not fire. He pressed his back on the trunk he was using as cover, and tried to figure out what the hell is wrong with his weapon. He checked the rifle's magazine and safety, both in suitable condition for firing. Tyler looked to his right after hearing a series of automatic fire, and saw the man on the grass, laying bleeding, as he was riddled by bullets by Corporal Walsh Himself. Eventually, Private Tyler just cocked his gun and fixed his problem. Tyler looked as he heard a shouting vietcong soldier spring out of cover and spraying his AK47 upon Sergeant Lauton, Tyler used this opportunity to fire at the Vietnamese soldier. He fired his M1 Carbine around six times and hit the soldier on his torso a couple of times, not to mention the additional hits by Sergeant Lauton as he returned fire on the gook. Tyler looked at Sergeant Lauton and nodded his head. He stood up, still hiding behind the tree and quickly peeked to his left to figure out where the gunfire are coming from, unfortunately, he quickly returned to cover after a bullet zoomed near his head, with more bullets hitting the bark of the tree he was using as cover. Tyler position his body to get the most out of his cover. "Where the hell are these gooks firing from!?" He shouted, directed towards his squadmates.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Daryl calmed his breathing, standing up fully. He scanned the trees all around him, keeping an eye out for VC. His M16 was kept trained on the areas he looked, ready to fire off a burst, just in case. The jungle refused to show anything, no movement, no enemy, no target. He stuck close to the sergeant, not wanting to get separated from the squad and get picked off by a well hidden gook. Then, he heard it.

He could hear the VC before he saw him. Daryl turned and looked, his rifle at the ready. By the time he realized that the machete wielding Viet Cong was going after Walsh, the man was able to save himself with a quick burst from his rifle. Then, the bullets started flying. Within a few seconds, Daryl had found himself behind a fallen tree, trying to keep his head down as he clutched his weapon close to his body. He took a few breaths before he quickly got off his ass, balanced himself with one knee up, and planted in the dirt, and took aim. He could hear the rattle of what he thought was three AKs, but he wasn't sure. He then began to unload his clip into the enemy he could only hear, not see.

The section of the jungle he knew, no thought, the hostiles were firing from was filled with bullets from Daryl's M16. He barely let go of the trigger, instead holding it down and trying to hit something. "Fuck you! Fuck...you!" Daryl yelled, getting a little to gung-ho. "Get some! Geeeeeeeeet sommmmmmmme!" He was pretty sure he was able to bring one down before his rifle ran dry. He stared stupidly at it for a moment before he realized he needed to switch out his magazine. He pulled it out of his rifle, turning it over and placing the full mag that was taped upside down on the side of the one he just used into his weapon. However, as he was reloading, the thought of taking cover never occurred to him, and as he finished loading his trusty M16 with a satisfying click, bullets began to fly right by him. As he tried to throw himself onto the ground, behind his little fallen tree, a bullet clipped his left arm. He clutched his wound, feeling it start to bleed. He had no idea how bad it was, though he hoped it was just a graze. As the bullets landed all around, he decided to keep his head down until a little bit of pressure was taken off him.

[Herador]

"Stay low Jackson." Christian tried to give his best smile, though he honestly had no idea what he was doing himself, did it show? God, he hoped people weren't looking up to him or anything. "Just keep your head down and remember what they taught you in basic, and use this." He tapped his helmet. "It'll keep you alive out here, don't do nothin' dumb."

Gunshot cracks broke him out of his pep talk and Chuck started yelling. Was it Chuck? With everything going on it was so hard to tell who was talking. Taking up cover Christian found himself in the medic's favorite spot: not in front. The advance had moved up a few yards and all attention seemed to be on them.
"Let's roll Jackson, keep that head down."

Christian started to move forward again only to see two men hit by a mortar round. One died on impact, but the other was screaming in pain, crying for his mama and begging to go home. Christian took a knee next to him, making sure their cover was solid, then looked him over. Shrapnel wounds and a severed limb, nothing else though, if he could get put on a chopper soon he'd make it. Tourniquet first thing, he had to stop the bleeding, the kid screamed even louder as he pulled the cloth tight.
"You're gonna be ok man, you're going home real soon, just stay with me for a minute longer then I can give you some morphine, ok?" The kid didn't respond, he was too busy crying in agony.

The stump was messy, it wasn't close to a clean cut and the damage was bad, he was going to lose even more leg in surgery. Christian fished a syrette out of his buttpack and, after confirming it was Morphine, jammed it into the flesh of his undamaged thigh, giving it a squeeze and hoping that the kid's pain would be over soon. Dabbing a bit of blood on his finger, he drew an M on his patients forehead and then did a quick wound check, no other real damage, nothing that was going to kill him in a few minutes anyway, Christian waved down one of the kids squadmates and instructed him to take the poor bastard back to the LZ and stay in cover, MEDEVAC would come soon, and no more morphine was to be given to him until another medic got a look at him. Some disinfectant powder was Christian's last piece of work before he got back up and followed after his squad. Sprinting he saw Daryl get hit and dove into cover next to him, bandage in hand.
"You hit anywhere else man? Let me take a look at that." Christian was trying to keep up a smile. Hopefully, it looked real, cause it didn't feel real.

[Deutschess Kaiserreich]

Jackson dived upon the other wounded man that was hit by the mortar. He had no idea what he was doing and fumbled the bandages in his hand before wrapping around what Jackson thought of was a hole in his skin. Jackson began to wrap the bandage as tight as possible trying to remember his medical training in boot camp. What did he have to do? CPR? Wait, how do you do CPR? How many beats? What was he doing? No, he needed to stop the bleeding first. How do you do that? Jackosn reached into a nearby torn up medical bag and rolled out into the grass dozens of needles. He grabbed one and read the label. What the hell was C17H19NO3? Jackson looked through the other vials and read letters and number combinations that he had no idea what it was. Jackson struggled to remember his training but he couldn't. He had been rushed through training. Just a month and two that was just weed and jogging. Not a good combination.

Jackson noticed that his breath was getting faster and faster. More than possible. His heart felt like it was trying to break out of ribs like a maddened prisoner. He felt woozy as he finally noticed that the legs of the man he had been trying to help were nothing more than bloody stumps and his head has been impaled by a bloody shard of metal. His face was frozen in fear and his eyes a milky dead. Jackson stared into those milky dead eyes ignoring the bullets and death whizzing around him. He ignored the man behind him kneel and stare at the blood blossming in his shirt before dropping to the grown. He ignored the explosion only a few meters to the right of him rip apart three men. The screams were muted by Jackson as he continues to stare into those eternal eyes...

[Delphio]

More shouts and gunfire could be heard just ahead. Sergeant Lauton leaned around the tree he was covered behind, he raised his M16 and released short bursts of fire, killing an enemy soldier just ahead. Two more VC rushed from behind some trees up ahead. Lauton aimed down his iron sights and fired full-bore, emptying his magazine and bringing both men down.

As he reloaded behind cover he heard a loud rumbling, and a crashing sound of small trees and brush being ripped up. He raised his head to see an American M48 Patton Medium tank come rolling in their direction, passing by he and his men. The tank came to an abrupt halt just a few yards from Lauton as six VC came rushing forward from ahead, but then slid to a stop at the sight of the tank. Before they could think to move, the Patton fired it’s big gun, the explosion from the blast throwing the six men backward violently, then the tank surged forward with a heavy grinding of metal.

“On me!” Lauton yelled, “Follow that tank! Keep it covered!” He rushed from cover and fired his M16 at the hip, bringing down another VC guerrilla covering behind a tree stump. He waved his hand at his men to follow as he fell in behind the tank which rolled on at a modest pace. Another tank came into sight off to the right, followed by six men who walked at a half crouch behind it. To the left was a half-track, with roughly a dozen men piled into the back.
More armored units could be heard all around, all pressing north towards the enemy line.

More gunfire could be heard, metal screeched as bullets pelted against the exterior of the tank. More VC could be seen slinking between the trees ahead.

[Walabam]

Martin frantically tried to make out where all the shots were coming from, all while firing his trusty weapon at possible targets. He made sure no friendlies were in the line of fire as he pulled the trigger repeatedly, bursting his shots. He counted his lucky stars as each shot flew by his ear, with one grazing his neck. Nonetheless, Martin pushed on together with the team, too hyped up on adrenaline to even notice his newly created wound.

It wasn't long before the noise of metal tracks and a diesel engine overpowered the sound of gunfire. Martin made way for the tank, as did the team. Adhering to Lauton's instructions, Martin took cover behind the tank right as it fired towards six VC whom were in their line of sight. Slightly jolted, Martin took a second or two to regain his composure, firing wildly as his gun poked out from the side of the tank.