Combat Outpost (COP) Able-Main, Kunar Province, Afghanistan The sound of the alarm pierced through the fog of sleep surrounding David, bringing him out of a pleasant dream involving him, his last girlfriend, and their favorite can of whipped cream. Reaching over he slapped the off switch, then patted his M9 pistol, making sure it was where it should be. Plenty of the older NCOs joked about sleeping with their weapons, but unless he was outside the wire he just couldn't sleep comfortably with a gun in his rack. At that thought he chuckled ruefully; comfortably was a relative term after all. As he sat up and swung his legs off his cot he remembered the time he had signed his pistol over to Doc for a mission. He smiled at the memory of his reaction when the C-RAM alarm went off while he was taking a rare and badly needed nap that same afternoon. Hearing the warning alert of 'incoming' he reached over to pat his M9 for reassurance, but it was NOT in its customary spot. He had freaked

First Lieutenant Mark "Mother" Hilliard was an ROTC grad from the University of Ohio. He had worked for both Major Deanore and Captain Epps in the past, and was one of the most professional and knowledgeable junior officers that David had ever met. While he liked to joke with Mark about being the team's Den Mother, David knew that half of the mistakes he had made in his first few weeks with the team were fixed by Mark long before the captain or the major ever found out. But that was just Mark. If he knew you were trying hard he would make sure you succeeded, and then make sure you could succeed on your own the next time. He was also a hell of a shot with the M14, and was one of their team's two squad designated marksman going on this hike. Sergeant First Class Ray "Tongue Punch" Bragg was a sarcastic hard-ass. Twelve year veteran of the United States Army, Bragg had seen two combat tours in Iraq, and one in Afghanistan before finding his way to the 101st for another trip to "the Sta

Popping the quick releases on his rucksack, he shouldered his rifle and crawled to a nearby rock that would give him some cover, while still allowing him to fire safely past Doc and Mother. He settled the crosshairs of his 4x32 Trijicon ACOG® on the spot where the ANA PSD were popping out of cover behind a boulder the size of a delivery van to take pot shots at his teammates. David steadied his breathing.Bang.The report of his rifle was barely discernible to his ringing ears, but the spray of pink mist from behind the rock face was all the confirmation that he needed. His single shot had done its job."Doc, Mother and I got this. Get your ass down the trail and check on the rest. Tongue-punch and Pappy ain't moving, and I didn't get eyes on the captain before I decided to bail your asses out." He could barely hear himself, but the soreness in his throat told him that he was screaming his voice to hoarseness to get Doc's attention.Doc ducked down behind the rock he was using for cov

Approximately 2.5KM SW of ANA Lower Observation Post (OP) Jubai, Kunar Province, Afghanistan There was a rock poking him in the face. Also, his scalp felt like a million angry fire ants were crawling through his hair and biting him. And his head was pounding worse than the most painful migraine he had ever had. But, yeah, at the moment the most significant thing he could think of was there was a rock poking him in the face. Why was a rock poking him in the face? David wracked his throbbing skull for the answer to this conundrum. He was on a mission...something bad happened...he took a nap? That wasn't right. He had gotten knocked out. Wile E. Coyote had attacked them with ACME TNT. Nope, still wrong. His team didn't have the Roadrunner in it. Can't blame the bird though, there was no reason for the Roadrunner to be in Afghanistan. Wait a minute, Afghanistan! He was on mission in Afghanistan. The donkey, The Kid, THE IED! David groaned as he rolled over to get away from the ro