Minoso's Squad

"No matter how much training you got or how strong you are, when you strap up and step on a battlefield for the first time, it changes you forever."

- Tommy Conlin

Minoso's Squad is a group of Marine Raiders who fought on the Pacific Front during World War II. They were in boot camp together, but the first action they saw as a team during a raid on Makin Atoll, where they go about blowing up several critical Japanese installations. While doing this, they witnessed a recon plane get shot down, and then rescued the pilot, and managed to escape the island, shooting down two Zeros with a BAR. Next came Guadalcanal and the attacks on Henderson Airfield. They went rooting out the Japanese positions, and then were stationed on 'Bloody Ridge,' where they defended the ridge against a superior enemy force.

They became pilots for a small bit, and during a mission, depending on Player reaction speed, Frank Minoso is either saved but with critical injury, or killed by a pursuing enemy Zero. Either way, the player character, Tommy Conlin, takes over as squad leader for the assault on Tarawa. There, they go and blow up a Japanese bunker, take out artillery, and finally take the last Japanese stronghold on the island.

Battle vs. Roebuck's Squad (by LB&SCR)
An unnamed ridge, unnamed Pacific island, summertime.

Golden sunlight streamed down from the sky, encasing the air in a warm temperature that would not have been out of place on most summer days in the Pacific. Temporarily, the air was lacking the mugginess of the humidity, which was a welcome relief from the normal, almost complete saturation of the air that occurred normally. Who knew how long this would last? The ridge itself was relatively lacking in any vegetation at all, besides a few bushes scattered here and there, and a lightly forested area to the south. There were a few rather large rock formations, well, ones large enough to hide a person from view if he could compact himself enough. There were a few man-made marks on the ridge: a few sandbag walls, and groups of foxholes grouped in two's and three's.

Frank Minoso lay on his back, hands beneath his hand, on the red, rocky dirt that made up the ridge. His eyes were closed, imagining once again the face of his girlfriend (the one he promised himself that he was going to propose to the moment that this war ended). He smiled softly at the thought, and at the thought of all the womanizing tales that he had spun for the entertainment of his fellow soldiers (but hey, no one knew that they were mostly fictitious.. well, he had almost told Conlin). He didn't shift as he heard the sound approaching footsteps to his right. The footsteps soon quieted, and were replaced by the shuffling sound of someone sitting beside him. He cracked an eye open and said. "Heya there Tommy. Finally get tired of sitting in that hole?" Frank asked, opening both of his eyes and sitting up a bit.

Tommy chuckled and said. "Only for moment Frank, then I'm probably high-tailing it back in there. They might say that there aren't very many Japs left around, but I'm not taking any chances, they are very sneaky when they want to be." Frank laughed and sat up. Tommy was the only one Frank felt he could really talk to openly with. His relationship with Willie was a bit rocky, and Jimmy usually kept to himself. Then there was Doyle, who he could swear his IQ dropped by just hanging around the guy.

Then came the drawl of Willie Gaines from somewhere behind the both of them. "Hey Gunny, Doyle actually made it back." Gaines said with a chuckle, as said marine came jogging from the area where the orders were sent out. Doyle wouldn't have to be a runner if Willie hadn't screwed up and lost his radio way back when the assault began.

Frank looked towards Doyle, who was panting and gasping for breath, the marines M1 Carbine slung over his shoulder. "Well, what's the news Doyle?"

Doyle gathered his breath before saying. "The Major says that reinforcements are coming our way... though I can't remember whether they are replacing us or just going to add numbers to here."

"Which way are they coming from, so we can be on the lookout for them?"

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Erm..." Doyle said, suddenly searching in his head for what the Major had said. "I... don't know.." He then started piping up. "I'm sorry Sarge, I'm sure the Major said it, bu-!"

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Just can it Doyle." Frank said, already annoyed by the ineptness of the marine before him. At least four out of the five of them were decently competent. "As long as they arrive while it's still daylight out I'm sure that we'll be able to recognize them." He said, standing up from his position on the ground and putting his helmet back on. "Whether or not they are replacing us or working with us, either one would be appreciated."

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">- - - - -

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The sun had started it's descent, and clouds had started to appear on the horizon. Five other marines were advancing through some light foliage. Just cause the sun was going down, didn't mean that it was cooling down any. They briefly stopped to take a fairly short break while the Sergeant Sullivan broke out his maps. "Roebuck, come over here for a moment." He said, and the soldier shouldering the BAR came over and leaned over the maps, which had been spread out as best as they could ontop of a rock. They started pouring over the maps, comparing what they were seeing to what the maps said.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The other three took this time to rest up a bit before they had to start moving again. The squad's radioman, Rooker, sat down in the dirt, breathing a bit hard. Polonsky leaned against on the trees and removed his helmet, wiping the sweat from his brow before placing it back upon his head. Polonsky looked over at the other rifleman that the group had, a quite brown-haired man of equivalent rank named Miller. Polonsky (and probably anyone else) had had many rather one-sided conversations with Miller, who spoke like.. well, a small bit above <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">never <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">. He would of tried to strike a conversation, but he doubted that he'd get any replies out of the man.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">After about maybe a quarter of an hour or so, Sergeant Sullivan put the maps up, and Roebuck said. "Apparently we've gone a bit off course." Roebuck said, explaining as Sullivan was a bit peeved at this delay in their ascent towards their new ridge position.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Polonsky sighed annoyingly. "That would of been nice to know, oh I don't know, back when we just started." He said, starting to complain full force, before Sullivan cut him off.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Just shut it Polonsky. We'll have to be going a bit quicker in an attempt to make up time, and you'll want that wind for moving, not speaking."

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Polonsky scowled and then looked over at both Rooker and Miller. "You guys at least half-agree with me, right?" He said, only to be greeted by the negative. Rooker had already gotten up and started after Sullivan and Roebuck. Miller was walking past him, before stopping and offering a shrug in answer to his question. That was probably the most he was going to get from the guy. Polonsky sighed, picked up his rifle, and started after the other four, hoping they got their before it started getting dark.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">- - - - -

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The sun had almost retreated below the horizon, and it was starting to get dark, minus a precious few golden rays that were still able to make it over the horizon. By this time, Frank Minoso and Tommy Conlin had headed back into their foxholes. If there were any Japanese left, this would be the time they would attack, either right now, or during the darkness when it was hard to see. Frank sighed and scanned the ridge again. "I wish Doyle would of listened closer and at least gotten us a time when these friends would be showing up." He said, complaining under his breath.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Hey Frank." Frank looked over to see Tommy toss him his binoculars, which he caught. "I thought that those might be able to help you a bit." Tommy said, smiling a bit before hunkering down in his foxhole. Frank looked at the binoculars for a bit before bringing them up to his eyes, and using them to scan the surrounding country, even places that usually only the enemy could come from. Frank sighed and lowered the binoculars as it got darker, tossing them back to Tommy. He'd ask for them back once the moon got all the way out and he could semi-see again.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">About half of an hour later....

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank had hunkered down inside his foxhole as the moon started to peak over the horizon bathing everything in an almost dull blue light. He then leaned over in the direction of Tommy's foxhole and whispered. "Hey, Tommy, can you toss me your binoculars again?" He didn't receive a verbal answer, but an object was suddenly illuminated by moonlight as if flew towards him. He went and caught it and said a silent thank you to Conlin before scanning the area again with the binoculars.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">After a few rounds of looking about, he sighed and tossed the binoculars back in Tommy's general direction. With no heads up, there was a slight <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">thump <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"> followed by a muffled "Ow." From Tommy. Frank grinned apologetically as Tommy asked. "I guess you couldn't see anything in these deplorable conditions?"

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank nodded. "Yeah.. I need the moon to be a bit higher up..." He said. He was going to say more when the snapping of a twig and a rather soft rustling of leaves reached his ears. Tommy didn't really need any instructions, and raised the binoculars to his own eyes, straining his vision in the direction that they had heard the noise. "Boys, yah hear that?" There was then the sounds of Doyle, Jimmy, and Willie shifting around, listening for anything that may present itself.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Tommy lowered the binoculars and said. "Can't see much Frank."

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank nodded. Time for about the only thing he could think of at the moment. With a slight raising of weapons in the general direction of the sound (Jimmy just hunkered down a bit more in his foxhole), Frank, whose voice naturally carried, raised his voice a slight bit, and then called out in a loud whisper. "Flash."

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">- - - - -

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Flash."

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Sergeant Sullivan stopped upon hearing the voice. The four marines behind him stopped in their tracks, and looked over at both Roebuck and Sullivan for an answer as to what that was. Sullivan recognized it. "It's code, do any of you remember the reply we are supposed to give?" Roebuck and the others racked their minds for what the reply was supposed to be.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Flash you dumbasses!"

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Okay, that's a bit rude." Polonsky muttered as they continued to rack their minds for what the reply word would be.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">That's when Miller suddenly looked up, and appeared to start to say something when a single muzzle flash appeared in the area in front of them, followed by a <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">crack <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">- - - - -

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank waited in silence for the answer he was supposed to receive after saying the codeword. He'd added the name-calling on the end for the emphasis, and tensely waited for the answer. It appeared that the others were tense and fully alert now, seeing in the moonlight the raising of firearms in the direction of where he'd spoken too.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">A few tense moments passed, and then everybody winced as a crack of gunfire sounded from near them. Apparently whatever it was had already drained Doyle's patience. Doyle had done it.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">- - - - -

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:bold;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Minoso's Squad <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:bold;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck's Squad <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The first bullet went and buried itself in the dirt somewhere to Roebuck's left. "The f***!?" Sullivan shouted, crouching down. Maybe it was just a warning shot? It could have been before it was followed by two more muzzle flashes and cracks, these rounds landing much nearer to them. "THE F*****S! DON'T THEY KNOW WE ARE ON THEIR SIDE?" He screamed, a shot from his Trench Gun roaring in answer to Doyle's fired rounds, even though he was out of range.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"WHAT THE HELL DOYLE!?" Frank shouted, pulling himself out of his foxhole and starting over in rage towards where Doyle was at, leaving his BAR in his own foxhole. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED T-!" He was interrupted by the <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">boom <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Sullivan's Trench gun, which was soon followed by a few shots from Polonsky's Garand. Frank threw himself to the ground, and started scrambling back to his own foxhole. That idiot was going to get them all killed. Doyle fired off another round, this time being answered by both Miller and Polonsky firing shots. Doyle had crawled out of his foxhole for better aim, and three shots tore into his abdomen, making him fall silently to the ground.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:bold;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Minoso's Squad <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank had leapt into his foxhole in time to see Doyle fall dead. He cursed and reaching for his BAR. "Umm.. Frank? What are we supposed to do?!" Tommy shouted, trying to make himself heard over the din of fire coming from the direction of the foliage. He was keeping his head down, crouching in his foxhole, his Springfield lying to his left.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"We shoot back and hope they can see reason before anyone one else get's killed!" Frank shouted back, raising his BAR and perching it on the edge of the foxhole. Soon enough, he started squeezing the trigger, his BAR erupting fire in the general direction of the muzzle flashes he was seeing.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Rooker! Get  command on the line! I want these f*****s reported, now!" Sullivan roared. Rooker quickly knelt down and started trying to make himself heard over the sound of fire so close to him.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck himself had froze for only a few moments, and so much lead had been thrown in that short period of time. He soon came back to his senses and brought the BAR to his shoulder. He soon started sending rounds downrange towards Minoso and his men. He winced and rolled as a hastily fired round from Tommy's Springfield struck a tree near him, splintering the wood and sending the shards into the side of his face. He soon rose to one knee and let loose another burst from his gun towards his enemy.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank Minoso ducked down as dirt started spraying up in front of him. "TOMMY? WHERE ARE JIMMY AND WILLIE?"

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"I DON'T MEAN TO INSULT THE DOC'S FIGHTING ABILITY, BUT WHAT ARE YOU EXPECTING HIM TO DO?" Tommy shouted back, quickly working the bolt on his Springfield and taking hasty aim and sending another piece of lead over towards Sullivan's men.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Willie had picked up his Scoped Springfield and had turned in the opposite direction and ran, the voice of his drill sergeant echoing about in his head.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Now Gaines, you look like someone to turn tail and run at the first sign of danger! Is this true!?"

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"No drill sergeant!" Gaines had answered.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Well, wouldn't the drill sergeant be proud? Gaines stopped running, turned around, and went prone on a little raised area that he had found. He looked down the scope and strained his eyesight, attempting to make out any target's at all in the semi-darkness. The scope centered on a figure that was hunched over something. Gaines took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger, the Springfields deep <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">crack <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"> echoing throughout the night.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:bold;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck's Squad <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Sullivan looked over as a giant puff of red mist appeared as Gaines' shot went and hit Rooker center mass. "Shit!" He called out, hastily trying to load rounds into his shotgun, mostly because he'd been firing rounds in anger more than in effectiveness. He then turned towards Roebuck. "Roebuck! I want you and Polonsky to-!" He was interrupted as another deep <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">crack <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"> resounded and a round struck Sullivan in the gut, and he fell to the ground with a grunt, gritting his teeth with the pain. Roebuck looked over and immediately rushed over to Sullivan's side, and dragged the Sergeant towards relative safety behind a thick tree. He went and propped Sullivan against the tree.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank emptied his BAR's current clip, and after shoving in a fresh, new one, shouted. "Tommy! We are moving back towards the sandbags and Jimmy!" He said as he rose out of his foxhole and started the retreat back to where the relative safety of the sandbags (as well as being within the range of their medic) was located. Tommy nodded, raised his Springfield to his shoulder, and fired off another round, before working the bolt and also turning and running towards the sandbags.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck looked down at what had become of Sullivan. Sullivan looked up at Roebuck and motioned for him to lean down. At the lack of returning fire, Polonsky and Miller had stopped shooting briefly, so Sullivan wasn't going to have to shout. "Roebuck..." He said, trying to speak with what strength he had left. "You... are now officially..." Sullivan winced. "Officially... in charge..." Having officially transferred command over to the now acting Sergeant Roebuck, Sullivan let out a breath.... and died.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:bold;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck's Squad <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Miller and Polonsky looked over at their new squad commander, waiting orders as of what to do. Roebuck looked up at the both of them and stood. With a fire burning in his eyes, he then said. "Let's go and get the f*****s!" He said, picking up his BAR again. "Come on!" He said, motioning for Miller and Polonsky to follow him forward. With Roebuck leading the way, the three of them started quickly closing the distance between them and the men of Minoso.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Tommy Conlin looked over his shoulder and let out a tiny sound at the quickly advancing marines behind him. He yelled something at Frank before turning around and going down to one knee. He raised his Springfield, squinted down the iron sights, and pulled the trigger back. <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Click. <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"> Tommy looked down at his rifle and quickly pulled the bolt open, and started fumbling around for another clip that he could put in. He finally found on and shoved it into the weapon's magazine, and then closed the bolt, hastily bringing the weapon to his shoulder.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Conlin might of been fast, but Miller was faster. Miller quickly raised his Garand to his eyes and fired two rounds in Conlin's direction, which resulted in the loud <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">ping <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">of the M1's clip emptying. Miller went down to a crouch, and while reaching for a fresh clip, raised his eyes enough to see both rounds hit Conlin, one round hitting Conlin in the lower abdomen, and the other in the upper leg. Conlin fell backwards and hit the red dirt of the ridge, a loud cry escaping him as he started writhing around on the ground.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank turned around as he heard Tommy cry out. He'd already reached the sandbags, and he let out a sound of frustration as he tossed his BAR on the other side of the sandbags, and then went tearing off back in Tommy's direction. As he was running, Frank called out. "Jimmy! Come on!" He called, before returning all of his energies and attention to getting Conlin out of danger. He soon slid to a stop next to Conlin, and hooked an arm around his right arm. He then proceeded to start dragging Conlin back. The sounds of Miller's and Polonsky's Garands were soon joined by the sound of Roebuck's BAR.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">With his right arm, Frank Minoso, reached down and drew his Colt M1911. Dragging with his left arm, and firing potshots with his right, he proceeded to try and cover himself as best as he could. <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Now would be a good time for Willie to start shooting again <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">, he thought. Soon enough, Jimmy Sullivan suddenly appeared beside him. Jimmy leaned in close and yelled over the din of gunfire. "FRANK! I'VE GOT HIM!" He said, wrapping his arm around Conlin's left. Frank nodded in reply and helped the Corpsman drag the wounded Conlin.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Miller aimed down his iron sights in an attempt to get them on Frank Minoso. When the man wearing the medic uniform and the red cross leapt out of nowhere and started dragging the wounded man also, Miller slightly lowered his weapon. He looked over to see Roebuck and Polonsky slowly do the same, only with scowls on their faces. They knew enough not to actively fire upon a Medic unless he was actively firing his weapon upon them (hence sacrificing his protection under the Geneva Convention).

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank and Jimmy dragged Conlin behind the sandbags. Frank had emptied his Colt, so he put it away and went in search of where he had placed his BAR. Conlin was still whimpering in pain, and Jimmy had finally come over with his medkit. "You're gonna make it!" Jimmy assured him, rifling around in his bag for what he needed for the two wounds that Conlin had suffered.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Upon seeing Frank separate himself from the wounded and the Medic, that made him a target again. Miller, Polonsky, and Roebuck started to unload rounds in Frank's direction. The big man made himself a small target as bullets impacted the sandbags and flew over his head. He finally went and picked up his BAR, and checked to see if there was a round in the chamber. Upon seeing the affirmative, Frank, rose up, placed his BAR upon the sandbags, and started placing suppressive fire upon the three advancing targets.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Meanwhile, Jimmy Sullivan was busy disinfecting both wounds that Conlin had received. The moon was at it's zenith, so the Doc could see well enough to fix Tommy's wounds as best as he could. He started wrapping bandages around Tommy's waist and leg. After that, he put his bandages and disinfectant away. He went sifting around in his medbag and found a syringe for morphine. He found a vein and gave Tommy a small dose. "Alright Tommy, that's the best I can do!" He said, yelling over the noise of Frank's BAR. He helped Tommy to his feet in time to hear Frank yell.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"Jimmy, go back to where Willie is located!"

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Sullivan headed off towards Willie, while Frank kept the three marines’ heads down.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck, Miller, and Polonsky were crouched near one of the large rock formations, the rock stopping the bullets fired by Frank from hitting them. Roebuck looked over at Miller and Polonsky. "I want you two to go and flank them from the rear left, and see if you can find that sniper before he strikes again!" He shouted above the chaos. Both Miller and Polonsky nodded, and both took off running as Roebuck started offering covering fire.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank ducked down both as his BAR jammed, and as Roebuck's bullets started flying in his direction. "Damn!" He cursed, trying to unjam his BAR and resume his fire. Roebuck took this chance to close his distance, and started advancing while firing his BAR from the hip.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Jimmy had found Willie, and was sitting behind a rock formation as Willie kept an eye on the fight between Roebuck and Frank Minoso. "Frank can totally take that guy!" Willie said, grinning as he watched from the safety of the scope. Jimmy was about the say something when Willie whirled to the left and fired off a quick shot. In his haste, he hadn't aimed as well as he should of, so the bullet impacted the side of Polonsky's helmet, knocking it off and Polonsky over (probably giving Polonsky a bad headache in the process). Upon seeing Polonsky get stunned, Miller dropped his Garand and pulled his Thompson out, and started spraying short bursts in the direction of Willie. Willie rolled, and dropped his Springfield. He scrambled around and found his Browning Auto-5, he checked the chamber, and rose up and fired a shot, the shotgun roaring in the night.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Polonsky had pulled himself up and started firing his Garand alongside Miller's Thompson. The two of them should be able to eventually overwhelm this sniper that had been hiding behind here. At least his sniper rifle was out of commision.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Jimmy was still hiding behind the rock formation as the bullets started flying. He saw that Willie was going to be overwhelmed if he didn't do something. He felt around on his hip for the holster that held his M1917 Revolver. He drew it, took a deep breath, and then stood up. He squinted through his spectacles as he looked over at the enemy nearest him. He then squeezed the trigger.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#f3f3f3;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Polonsky was struck in the arm by the round fired from Jimmy's revolver. He cried out, and this distraction was enough for Willie Gaines. He aimed his Shotgun and fired it at Private Polonsky, who was rather close. The shot threw the man like a ragdoll and away and into an empty foxhole.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:bold;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck's Squad <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Miller looked over at where Polonsky had been, and that made another shot fired by Jimmy strike Miller in the forearm. He grunted and turned towards Jimmy, and emptied the rest of his clip into the Doctor. Willie let out a surprised sound as Miller shot Jimmy full of holes. He then turned and leaping out from his cover, and fired two more shots at Miller. Miller was struck by one of those, and fell to a knee. Gaines smiled and started advancing with his shotgun held up. He got close to Miller, when Miller struck out with KA-BAR. The knife sunk into the lower abdomen of Gaines, and Gaines rocked back, surprised at suddenly being stabbed. Miller used this moment and fell from the knee onto his back, picked up his Thompson, and started struggling to reload another clip into the weapon. Gaines got over his shock and tore the KA-BAR out. "Dammit boy, I'm gonna give it to yah know!" Willie shouted, and then he started to advance on Miller. Miller rushed the clip into the Thompson, pulled the bolt back, and aimed up. The surprise look on Gaines's face was quickly wiped away as Miller went and fired a long burst into the sniper. Willie stood for a few moments, still looking very surprised, before collaspsing.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:bold;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Minoso's Squad <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Miller picked up his KA-BAR, and then wiped the blood off on his 'clean' sleeve. He then put the KA-BAR away. He then started closing towards where the firing sounds of BARs were (though whether they were friendly or enemy, he didn't know).

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Upon hearing silence back behind him. Frank Minoso looked over at Tommy and said. "Hey Tommy, go check up on Willie!" He yelled. Tommy nodded and, having lost his Springfield when he was wounded, picked up his M50 Reising. He then went off, ignoring what pain the morphine didn't dull. He sucked in a breath as Frank's BAR opened up again, which was answered by Roebuck's BAR.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Private Miller, Thompson in hand, was slowly stalking forward, holding the Thompson up to his shoulder. He was scanning the landscape when Tommy Conlin burst out of nowhere. Miller was caught by surprise which allowed Tommy Conlin to strike first, firing a burst from his Reising. Miller grunted as a few bullets struck him, and fired a retaliatory burst at Conlin, who didn't go unscathed either. Conlin then charged forward, striking Miller with the barrel of his Reising. Miller stumbled back, and then lunged forward, the much larger Miller tackling Conlin. Falling over and dropping their weapons, Conlin managed to kick Miller off of him and scrambled to pick up his Reising again.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Miller landed on his back, and scrambled up, having picked up his Thompson. Miller went, and fired a misaimed burst at Conlin's form. Conlin rolled to a knee with his Reising in his hand, and fired a small burst towards Miller, which Miller avoided and charged forward again. Conlin stood fully up, and charged towards Miller. Again, amid bursts of SMG fire, they both collided again, with Conlin striking Miller with the Reising once again. The larger Miller threw the smaller Conlin onto the ground. He then shoved the barrel of the Thompson into Conlin's face. Conlin smacked the Thompson away from his face with his Reising, and attempted to get up to strike or fire upon Miller. Conlin got up, and attempted to fire his weapon, but Miller again was faster. Miller fired a burst point blank into Tommy Conlin, killing him.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:bold;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Minoso's Squad <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck had advanced and was closing in very quickly on Minoso and his sandbags. Frank Minoso emptied his clip and reached for a new one to put in his BAR.... and found none. He crouched down, hoping that his adversary would end up emptying his own weapon and at least level the playing field a bit.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck kept firing his weapon until it emptied. He then reached for his own ammunition, and then found that he had none either. He dropped his BAR and drew his Machete. He then ran towards where his enemy (who also had an empty gun), ready to end this as quickly as he could.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank looked to draw his Colt, only to not find it on his form. He looked up to see the charging Sergeant Roebuck. He knelt down and went white-knuckled gripping his weapon. His mind then went back to basic training, mostly the part where you went all Melee on a dummy.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank Minoso went over and meleed the hanging training dummy. Unlike the others, who only knocked the dummy back, Frank completely obliterated the training dummy, basically destroying it.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank fearfully looked over at the Drill Sergeant. "I'm sorry Sarge... I-I-!"

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">"You will not apologize!" The Sergeant yelled. "You will continue to destroy your enemy in any way you can!"

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">He shook his head, got on his war face, and leapt over the sandbags. This surprised Roebuck, who couldn't avoid it when Frank Minoso struck him with the stock of his BAR. Roebuck recovered quickly, and lashed out with his machete. Frank held up and blocked the blow with his BAR. He then dropped his BAR. Then, Sergeant Frank Minoso tackled Sergeant Roebuck (same height, but Frank was a bit heavier). This knocked Roebuck over, and Frank was on top of him. He pinned the hand that held the machete, while punching Roebuck with his other hand.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck used his free hand to reach up and deliver a blow to Frank's head. He couldn't get a lot of power behind it, so it didn't knock Frank off.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Miller was limping towards where the sounds of LMG fire were being heard. He was gritting his teeth with the pain he was suffering: several wounds in his arms and legs, and one in the abdomen. He came out of some brush, only to see Roebuck getting beaten by Frank. Frank stopped upon seeing Miller emerge. He reached down and took Roebuck's Colt and turned to aim it at Miller. Roebuck used this to shift and throw Minoso off of him. Frank hit the dirt, and then he shot to his feet and pulled out his KA-BAR with his free hand, and still holding Roebuck's Colt in his other. He then fired a shot into Roebuck. He turned the Colt onto Miller, but a burst from Miller's Thompson made Frank Minoso drop the Colt. He then knelt down onto Roebuck, who was back on the ground with a hand on his new wound, intent on ending at least him.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank raised the KA-BAR, preparing to drive it into Roebuck before Miller could fire again. Using a free hand, Roebuck punched Minoso in the nose. With Minoso stunned, Roebuck reached out and grabbed his machete, and then drove the blade into Minoso's chest. Frank let out a gasp, before blood started to slowly leak from his mouth.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:bold;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Minoso's Squad <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:bold;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck's Squad <span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">- - - -

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck reached up and shoved the now dead Frank Minoso off of him, and then lay flat on his back (though he had already been laying down), breathing heavily. He kept his hand on his bloody abdomen, grunting every few moments from pain. He shut his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He ears picked up a cough that was relatively close to him, and he opened his eyes to find himself looking up at a very bloody Private Miller. Miller offered a hand, which Roebuck took, and hauled Roebuck up onto his feet.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck looked over at Miller, who looked like he'd literally gone charging through hell. The brown-haired Miller had a large gash bleeding on the side of his head (hidden by the helmet), blood running down his right arm from a bullet wound there, blood running down his left leg, and a wound in his abdomen. It bewildered Roebuck how the guy was even still standing. This guy was a trooper.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Roebuck looked over what had turned from a defensive position to a battlefield. He looked over the dead: his own (Rooker, Sullivan, and Polonsky), and the ones of his enemy (Doyle, Gaines, Sullivan, Conlin, and Minoso). He let out a sigh. As tough as Roebuck was, he almost felt like breaking down (probably both in tears and in sanity), but he didn't want to end up doing that in front of Miller.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.656;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"><span style="font-size:14.666666666666666px;font-family:Arial;color:#d5d4d4;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">In the end, he looked over at Miller and looked at him for a long moment before back at the landscape. "How the hell am I going to explain this to the Major?"