Corneria's Corps ch. 4
Chapter 4
Corneria's Corps Chapter 4: Risk
We began to step it out. We each had a flak, kevlar, hydration pack, and blaster or machine gun. "Where the hell are we, gunny," I asked.
"Hell if I know," he replied. "But you need to stay out of combat. The last thing I need in my platoon is a casualty due to faulty brain activity."
"Aye, aye, gunny." The platoon got into a tactical column. We began to patrol forward. With a mission to...fuck if I knew at the time. "Where are we going, gunny?"
"We're going to try and find Corneria City to check into Headquarters Marine Corps there. We need to speak with Commandant Pepper, inform him of Venom's presence here. Don't get killed on the way."
"Aye, aye, gunny." We continued to patrol in silence. We patrolled for several hours. "Where the fuck are we," I muttered. "These trees all look the Goddamn same. Does the equipment operators's shit work still?" I turned to look at him. "Yo! Your shit still work?"
"I don't fucking know," was his response.
"Well, check, Goddammit!"
"Aye, aye, rent-a-guide."
"I heard that, smartass."
"You were supposed to." I rolled my eyes. Fucking comms guys were always assholes. It pissed me off. BANG! A chunk of bark flew off the tree beside me.
"SNIPER," GySgt. Tyson yelled. "GET DOWN! GET THE FUCK DOWN!"
"Fuck," I yelled as I immediately dropped into the prone. It was a mistake, but it was the lesser of two evils; I got light headed. "Fuck, this sucks. This really sucks. This really fucking sucks." I began to crawl to my platoon as fast as I could without passing the fuck out.
"Semper," GySgt. Tyson called. "Get your ass over here!"
"Aye, aye, gunnery sergeant!" I continued to crawl a bit faster. I fought passing out as I moved to my platoon. About half way, my body gave up, and I collapsed from exhaustion. "My body gave, gunny," I yelled, hopeless and a sniper's sitting duck, his fish in a barrel.
"Goddammit! Ranning, get your ass over their and bring both yours and his back!"
"Aye, aye, gunnery sergeant," PFC Ranning replied. He took if sprinting toward me, his rifle, slung in his body, slapping him in the back. It looked painful, but he didn't seem to care. "Hey, buddy," he comforted me. "Looks like I'm saving your ass again." He began the process of getting me in the fireman's carry on an unconscious casualty; I couldn't help him lift me. "Gunny ordered me to save your ass, so I am. Lucky fucker, you." He began to run back to the platoon. "Don't fucking die on me, buddy." His adrenaline must have been pumping, because he was sprinting with me on his back. We quickly approached the platoon.
Ranning set me down. "Welcome back, Semper," gunny said.
"Hello, gunny," I replied. How are you?"
"Well enough without your ass going down every other operation or movement."
"I'd like to remind you, gunny, that I went down on Katiana trying to help another Marine." The medicine was starting to make me a bit disrespectful.
"And, now, you're down because you failed to tell me you were all drugged up. I knew you were in the sick bay, but not drugged up."
"The corpsman said it should have worn off-" A barrage of solid-rounds and plasma rushed toward us. "Son of a bitch!" Rounds shot by my head, all missing, some just barely, and a few brushing my fur. I grabbed my blaster.
"Hell no," gunny Tyson said. "You can barely walk. You think you're going to fight, Marine? Not a chance in hell. Corporal, get a link set up between us an Camp Hardin."
"Aye, aye, gunny," Cpl. Tracer replied. He went straight to work establishing communications.
"I can still shoot, gunny," I protested orders.
"The fuck you can. You can barely walk."
"I can shoot from the prone."
"The only way you can do that here is in the open."
"So fucking be it." Without waiting for any orders or threats from gunny, I gripped my blaster, dragged myself on top of the ledge we were taking cover behind, and got to the prone. "I'll cover you guys. Get the fuck out of here. With the condition I'm in, I'm about as useful as a knife in a gun fight."
"Get the fuck back down here, Marine," gunny barked. "The only useless Marine is a fucking dead Marine. Ranning, drag his ass back down here. Any luck, corporal?"
"Affirmative, gunny. Oh, yes, sir. Wilco, out. The major wants us to cut down some of these fuck-offs before air support takes the rest out."
"Ok, lock 'n' fucking load, Marines! Ranning, keep Semper out of the fight."
"Aye, aye, gunny."
"Man," I started. "Fuck you, Ranning."
"No thanks. I have a boyfriend for...FUCK! GRENADE!" He took off his Kevlar and covered the Venomian grenade with it, and then jumped on top of the Kevlar. A defeating boom echoed in the woods. I opened my eyes to see Ranning with blood dripping from his mouth. He was hacking and coughing up blood.
"RANNING," I shouted. "CORPSMAN! WE NEED A FUCKING CORPSMAN!"
"You...owe me...again," Ranning gasped. "It'll be a...bit harder to...pay me back...this time."
"What do you mean?"
"I...won't last...long. You should...already...know that."
"The fuck if you're dying on my ass. CORPSMAN! GET YOU'RE ASS OVER HERE!" It was too late. By the time the corpsman got to us, Ranning's breathing, heartbeat, and pulse were gone. He was dead. "NO! YOU CAN'T BE DEAD! YOU FUCKING CAN'T BE!" Somehow, the meds seemed to have permanently worn off. I picked up my blaster and stood up. "YOU'RE TURN, FUCKERS!" I charged my blaster fully and looked for a good opportunity to kill. I saw a tree with several hostile a next to it. I released the trigger, sending the charge at the side of the bottom of the tree. It shattered most of the tree's base, causing it to fall over, crushing the fuckers that killed my comrade to death.
"Get down, Semper," the gunny ordered.
"Fuck you, gunny," I said, firing like a trigger-happy ape. Is this what the loss of a close friend did to you? Turned you into a belligerent, blood-thirsty monster? I hoped not. "Get the fuck out of here! I'll cover you, goddammit!" This didn't last long; an old AK-47 round- a weapon made in a completely different planetary system- struck me in the shoulder. I stumbled back, fell off the ledge, and fell on my ass, right next to PFC Ranning's body.
They flew over head, their engines roaring. The Arwing bombers dropped their payloads on the Venomian forces we were engaging. I knew: this firefight was over. I turned to Ranning's body. For the first time since boot camp, I cried. Like a little bitch. I hugged Ranning's corpse and sobbed into his flak. "Pick him up, Semper," gunny said. "You're carrying him back to base."
"Aye, aye, gunny," I replied.
"Gunnery Sergeant," Cpl. Tracer protested. "We've got air evac coming. I already set up the beacon."
"Very well, corporal. Put him down, PFC." His face turned to anger. "'Fuck you, gunny'? Do you realize what the fuck you said? Have you lost you fucking goddamn mind?"
"I didn't realize at the time, gunnery sergeant. My mind was clouded. My only thought was to kill."
"You disobeyed orders and showed blatant disrespect."
"Post traumatic stress disorder, I believe, gunnery sergeant. You do realize this means we'll have to tell his boyfriend that he was killed in action, right?"
"Yes, I know. I'm not retarded. We'll have admin look up his address when we get to base."
The dropship came down. The back ramp opened up, allowing us access to the cabin. We climbed aboard and the ramp shut. We were finally heading back home.