The Rain

The rat, tat, tat of gunfire was a constant reminder of the danger my platoon was in. After being pinned down for three days by a superior force our chances of getting out of this thing in one piece were getting pretty thin. Outgunned three to one the enemy had us in their sights and was smelling blood. My men were tired, wet and on edge. Marines never back down when there's a fight to be had and never surrender if there's the slightest chance of victory. Our ammo was in good shape, no one had been hit and our position was solid. There was no way the enemy could flank us and find a weak point to exploit. The weather was our only problem and a big one. Torrential rain had been pouring down on us for the last three days with no break in sight. With no air support we were sitting ducks in a pond.

The enemy had been raining down gunfire and keeping us pinned from the high ground they controlled. This was no suicide mission we weren't going to rush them and get walloped we would wait it out. When the weather broke our birds would bring a living hell down on our prey but for now we waited dug in and frosty. We'd been in this kind of mess before after 3 tours of duty nothing surprised us anymore and the jungle was no friend just a mean meat grinding machine that would take you in a heartbeat. If the enemy didn't get you there were a thousand other horrors that crawled, slithered or crept around in this hellhole.

When darkness fell the clouds broke and our prayers were answered and our enemy was dialed in. It happened before we could hear it a huge flash of light blinded us as our fighters dropped their munitions right on the dime. The roar of their engines could only be heard after they had passed and the ground shuddered as hell found its mark. Now it was our turn to get the heck out of Dodge and levy a little payback for three mud soaked, miserable days up to our necks in water. It's been said before payback's a bitch in heat.