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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic
The short story of when I was shot in Afghanistan

Submitted: August 02, 2016

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Submitted: August 02, 2016



Sniper Down!!!!
Sitting on top of a hill in afghan surrounded by the baron red martian landscape pete my spotter and I waited.  "Target 1200 metres out!!!" Yelled pete. I dialled in my scope. Taliban fighter behind a huge boulder.  I dialled in the millidots checked the wing on my little flags I'd stuck in the sand. Pieces of paracord on a tent peg, but they told me wind coming from the west very slight. I slowed my breathing and took up the four pound pull on the trigger. One last breath, hold it, brace my shoulder for the mule kick of a recoil and fired. I kept watching through my scope as did pete.  Pink mist!!! Headshot!!! Pete confirmed it. "Head shot buddy, clean kill. Nice!!!" He got on the radio confirming the kill to be added to my rapidly growing tally. I relaxed. Got out my bottle and took a much needed piss. Pete got us both some water. I remembered then biscuits in my daypack. Slowly I eased up onto my knees and reached for them. Right then all hell broke loose. I grabbed our radio. " charlie two zero, charlie two zero from maverick five, taking enemy fire, heavy fire requesting airstrike on these co ordinates. Small arms fire. Charlie two zero acknowledge". The radio hissed static. Then a voice broke through. Our co, I recognised his gravelly voice anywhere.  "Maverick five from charlie two zero, roger. Ordering a10 inbound. Charlie two zero out".  The bullets kept thumping into the ground around us and the A10 American tankbusters with their revolving cannons were still a few minutes out. "Pete slide down the hill, take cover!!! I'll get my rifle and be right behind you. Fuck this is a shitstorm from hell. Fuck fuck...." I yelled as pete gave me covering fire with his SA80 as much as he could but he was firing blind, he was on the back of the hill.   Then rounds came in from behind us. Artillery rounds. Falling short for now, but they were zeroing on us. Either the planes got here in next few minutes or we were two dead men. "River!!!! Pete yelled, fucking Jesus Christ!! I'm out mate!!!" I grabbed his webbing and dragged him behind a rock, the only cover for miles. I had only my .383LM sniper rifle, great for sniping, useless in a firefight.  I did my best but it was a single action then reload. " Fuck!!! Where are this yanks???"" I yelled. I felt in my webbing as the artillery edged closer to us. I found a grenade. I could throw like a star quarterback with my treetrunk arms, but I'd have to stand to do it, Into incoming rounds of AK fire. "Fuck it pete today is a good day to die! Hooooo yaaaaaa" I stood and threw with all my power to where the artillery team were situated in some scrub brush off to my left. I didn't see it hit but heard the blast. Pete said arms and legs were flying out of the trees. The world had shifted, I fe!t sick. I wasn't seeing trees I was seeing sky!!! My confused brain tried to focus as I felt a burning pain in my groin. My trousers looked like I'd pissed myself, but it wasn't piss it was blood!!! I noticed A whine of jets! The A10's inbound blasting with their cannons strafing the tree line. "God bless America River, they saved your big ass!!!". His voice seemed a long way off and the sky began to turn. Everything was in slow motion and Pete's voice as he rabbiter on the radio was slow and slurred like a record on the wrong speed " Charlie two Zero from Maverick Six come in!!! Charlie two zero fuck, Maverick five is down!! I repeat sniper down!!!!! Hot zone casivac Charlie two zero copy over?". He repeated the message as he grabbed at my trousers pulling them down and grabbing my medpack.  All the time shouting I was the fucking medic he didn't know what to do crying his hands shaking.  Number three field dressing, pressure..... I told him but my voice was slurred. Pete, listen to me, my manhood's fucked mate I'm sure it is. I know how bad it is, I'll bleed out in five minutes. Let me go man, for the love of mike let me fucking go. " vaguely I heard pete zeroing an apache attack helicopter pilot in and I told him to tell them I'd bought it and to save themselves and get out.  Those flyboys never fucking listen, neither did pete. I heard the fifty calibre door gun rattling the felt a swinging motion. Above me I saw helicopter skids and underbelly and tracer fire from the door gun. She was taking fire.  I realised I was in a basket type of arrangement being winched up. "Get outs here guys, I'm fucked!!" I yelled drawing my combat knife to cut the winch lines. I would fall to earth but it hardly mattered. A hand grabbed my wrist. The hand with the knife. " hey you big ape!!! You're not taking me to hell quite yet!!!" It was Pete one knee each side of me in the basket clinging for dear life to the synch lines. I remember he hated helicopters......
Everything went black for a while, then a sound I knew..... Radio chatter. I looked in the direction of the sound and saw the pilots helmets as they called ahead. They said we were damaged, chopper hit. Emergency landing casualty on board A10s inbound mopping up. I smelled burning oil. The chopper lurched wildly as it fought the skilled hands guiding it. If these guys died because the came for me I'd never forgive Pete.  He disobeyed my order as troop commander too.  He acted as a friend instead of the professional I knew him to be....
Everything went black again and I was woken to a huge bump. "Jesus guys call that a fucking landing???" Yelled Pete. "Christ we are losing him......". Briefly I looked down and saw Pete's hands pressing on my wound blood oozing through his fingers.  I wanted the blackness to take me for good. I was a killer I deserved it I reasoned.   My head span then as more morphine was shot into me and a blood bag fed into my arm as the trolley was rushed from the chopper pouring acrid black smoke.  "Those flyboys are good guys" I slurred. "So are you mate, the best, don't you fucking die on me!!! Christ river.....". I awoke days later in a military hospital. I had bandages around my thigh and tackle and looked like A sumo wrestler. I was alive, mostly lucid.  I called out for Pete. A nurse fetched him. "Mate I remember everything you disobeyed me!!! You put aircrew in danger. My call was right you should have left me!!! Called for a warrior and heavy armour to get you out.". He looked at me." Pete you look like shit!!!!" "So you do you!" He said laughing. I laughed then with a humour I did not feel. I'd dreamed of meeting a decent girl one day and having a son maybe. That plan was fucked. 
As the days passed my mood didn't lift. The medication dulled my brain and when the medics went looking I eased myself to the bathroom in my room and flushed it. I got the pain back but I was lucid thinking clearly. I demanded to see the MO ( medical officer, army Dr). Major Tomlinson came a short time later. "Give it to me straight sir, am I going to heal?" "Yes trooper, you will heal just fine. If what you are asking me man to man is will your dick still work the answer is yes. However, because of where the bullet entered your body trooper we had to remove your prostate".  Clueless I asked what the fuck that means and patiently he explained I could no longer make sperm. I could still climax. I was stunned.
My life was ruined!!! Pete came a while later and said his wife was outside with some home baking for me. I said no women in here mate, I have to talk to you. I repeated what the doctor had said. "God mate I'm so sorry, but you're lucky to be alive". I asked Pete to bring my Beretta in. He refused saying he didn't save me so I could destroy myself.. 
I thought long and hard on his words as I munched Diane's cake. The darkness in me was gone. I was free now I wanted to live and get back to the troop and the life I adored. Six weeks later I did just that. I drove my body hard to get peak fitness back and even had a laugh about it, more of SAS uniquely black humour. " I know you guys think I'm a monk and have threatened to buy me a supply of titty magazines and toilet paper even though I hate that gross shit, well I just saved you the cost of the toilet paper!!!" I roared with laughter and so did the lads. Pete explained to them what had happened to me. We never spoke of it again. I settled down to a life completely alone. I couldn't change it so in true River fashion I accepted it and moved on, half a man but now twice the soldier. Two weeks after these events we deployed again to Afghan, the shit hole I barely got out of alive. I was sharp, I was focused. I was ready.

© Copyright 2018 river dawson. All rights reserved.

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