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"
Reload
!
"
The
soldier
I
was
shouting
to
was
already
dead
.
My
order
died
in
the
air
,
a
meaningless
pulse
of
static
.
I
squeezed
my
trigger
again
.
My
buddy
Yonabaru
caught
one
of
the
first
rounds
they
fired
back
-
one
of
those
javelins
.
Hit
him
straight
on
,
tore
right
through
his
Jacket
.
The
tip
came
out
covered
in
blood
,
oil
,
and
some
unidentifiable
fluids
.
His
Jacket
did
a
danse
macabre
for
about
ten
seconds
before
it
finally
stopped
moving
.
There
was
no
use
calling
a
medic
.
He
had
a
hole
just
below
his
chest
nearly
two
centimeters
across
,
and
it
went
clean
through
his
back
.
The
friction
had
seared
the
wound
at
the
edges
,
leaving
a
dull
orange
flame
dancing
around
the
opening
.
It
all
happened
within
the
first
minute
after
the
order
to
attack
.
He
was
the
kind
of
guy
that
liked
to
pull
rank
on
you
over
the
stupidest
shit
,
or
tell
you
who
’
d
done
it
in
a
whodunit
before
you
’
d
finished
the
first
chapter
.
But
he
didn
’
t
deserve
to
die
.
My
platoon
-
146
men
from
the
17th
Company
,
3rd
Battalion
,
12th
Regiment
,
301st
Armored
Infantry
Division
-
was
sent
in
to
reinforce
the
northern
end
of
Kotoiushi
Island
.
They
lifted
us
in
by
chopper
to
ambush
the
enemy
’
s
left
flank
from
the
rear
.
Our
job
was
to
wipe
out
the
runners
when
the
frontal
assault
inevitably
started
to
push
them
back
.
So
much
for
inevitable
.
Yonabaru
died
before
the
fighting
even
started
.
I
wondered
if
he
suffered
much
.
By
the
time
I
realized
what
was
going
on
,
my
platoon
was
smack
dab
in
the
middle
of
the
battle
.
We
were
catching
fire
from
the
enemy
and
our
own
troops
both
.
All
I
could
hear
were
screams
,
sobbing
,
and
"
Fuck
!
"
Fuck
!
Fuck
!
Fuck
!
The
profanities
were
flying
as
thick
as
the
bullets
.
Our
squad
leader
was
dead
.
Our
sergeant
was
dead
.
The
whir
of
the
rotors
on
the
support
choppers
was
long
gone
.
Comms
were
cut
off
.
Our
company
had
been
torn
to
shreds
.
