Hellfire Beach

HELLFIRE BEACH By Michael Dillon 9Pa A column of water erupted next to the small landing craft; water spewed all over the small team of special ops soldiers. The distant sound of machine gun fire could be heard, while craft’s engines sped up to evade the incoming fire. Tracer rounds screeched over head with the occasional ping of a direct hit. The small landing craft was closing in fast to the beach. A small explosion from an artillery piece shocked the boat as the high explosive round almost hit its mark. “30 seconds” the pilot yelled over the noise. The commander, Sergeant Peter Mitchells from the bright city of Miami, was flicking his lighter’s lid. He looked back of his team; many of his team members were taller so he had to look up to see them. Mitchells reached down and grabbed his silenced sub-machine gun and switched the safety off. “10 seconds” the pilot called again. There was a loud thud as the craft hit the beach. Mitchells and his team ran out of the craft into the hail of fire. This was it. It was time to do what he needed to do. Peter’s feet sank into the sand with every step. The hail of fire lighted up the sky like a fireworks display and a large explosion from an artillery round launched sand into the air leaving acknowledging large hole on the beach. Mitchells ran for the hole and launched himself into it; it provided perfect cover for him and his team. His team joined him shortly in the hole. It consisted of Corporal J. Smith, the team’s heavy weapons expert from North Carolina; Private 1st class L. Thomas, a New York based Italian and a hell of a marksman and private 1st class T. Watts, the corpsman from LA who joined because a judge made him. Smith placed his SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon) over the top of the shell hole and opened fire on the enemy. Mitchells crawled up next to Smith. Using his binoculars he spotted his target, a huge concrete bunker at the back of the beach. The end of an artillery piece stuck out of the front of the bunker. A large force of marines will be landing on the beach and the top brass wanted it destroyed. The flyboys bombed it from the air and the squids used their big guns from the sea, but nothing could crack the bunker and now it was Mitchells turn Mitchells grabbed the satellite phone and yelled into the mouth piece over the noise. “Tango six-one, this is Dog one, requesting smoke screen at coordinates seven- three alpha.” There was a silence followed by a loud crackling while his request was processed. Then Tango six-one’s voice boomed out of the phone. “Dog one, this is Tango six-one, permission granted, rounds in five.” Mitchells called out to his team. “Ok, the squids will be hitting the beach with smoke. When it lands, we’ll hit the bunker hard and fast and smoke them out.” In the distance, four low level thuds echoed over the beach. Then there was a loud howling noise as the naval rounds passed overhead. Four plumes of sand flew into the air like yellow snow, but not the bad kind. Large pillars of smoke appeared over the beach

and soon the beach looked like a foggy morning. When Mitchell was satisfied that the beach was fully covered he yelled out. “Ok, let’s go” Mitchells and his team ran out of the crater into the smoke filled beach. Mitchells led with his team following closely behind him. Tracer rounds flew passed his head as the enemy shot franticly into the smoke. It felt like the beach would never end and seemed to continue on for ages. Out of the fog appeared a log and a piece of old aircraft. Mitchells dodged the pile of scrap and as he ran past he spotted a glimmer of light from fishing wire near the debris. Mitchells looked franticly behind him to see Thomas running towards the wreckage, “THOMAS STOP” he yelled but Thomas didn’t hear him. Mitchells tried again “CLAYMORE, HIT THE DECK.” The team hit the dirt but Thomas didn’t. He tripped the trip wire and the small anti-personal mine went off. Thomas hit the beach screaming, Mitchells ran towards Thomas. “Corpsman” he yelled. “Watts get over here, Thomas is hit.” Mitchells and his team ran inside the debris and opened fire at the enemy position, while Mitchells and Watts worked on Thomas. The enemy knew were they were so all fire was focused on them. “Can you fix him, Watts?” Mitchells asked. “He’s cut pretty badly and he can’t walk” Watts replied. “Leave me here” Thomas mumbled as a bit of blood dripped from his mouth. “No” said Mitchells, “No I promise you, we are not leaving you behind, we are not leaving anyone behind.” At that very moment a squeal of income mail (artillery) headed towards his position. “GET OUT OF HERE!” Mitchells yelled and his team scrambled in all directions. Mitchells grabbed Thomas and placed him over his shoulders and ran out of the plane wreckage. He dived as the large explosive shell hit the beach and spewed bits of metal everywhere. Mitchell put Thomas down on the sand and looked around trying to figure out what to do next. The smoke screen was fading fast and he needed to get to the bunker. He picked up Watts and with his free hand turned on his short range radio in his helmet to the sound of “Move up the beach”. His team moved up the beach firing. With his free hand, Mitchells fired his sub-machine gun while carrying Thomas. Soon the bunker was in sight and trenches of soldiers also became visible. Mitchells strafed the trench with his sub-machine gun and jumped in, he placed Thomas on the ground and he started shooting anyone who moved with his pistol, His team soon joined him and as if like instinct the small team made the way through the trenches and into the bunker, where they cleared every space and every gun port. Over the radio Mitchells finally heard both his men say the word clear. This was it, the bunker was theirs. Mitchell grabbed the satellite phone and dialed. “Tango Six – One this is Dog One, over”, Mitchells waiting for a reply. “This is Tango Six-One, go ahead” “The bunker is ours; I repeat the bunker is ours” “Roger that Dog One, sending you a pick up”

Mitchells placed down the phone, relieved the fight was over. Then there was a loud explosion and loud gun fire; Mitchell grabbed his personal radio and said, “Defensive Positions” Mitchells dropped out the empty mag in his weapon and replacing it with a fresh one. He realized he wasn’t done yet. Mitchells ran out of the bunker and into the trench network with Smith and Watts following close behind. Mitchells looked into the thick jungle on the hillside as a hundred flashes from automatic weapons filled the air. Troops started emerging from the jungle and running down the hill, Mitchells scanned his surroundings looking for anything to help. Then he spotted it, a Browning 50 cal machine gun. He ran to it and grabbed the handles of the machine gun. Mitchells pulled back the charging handle and listened for it to click into place. The machine gun opened up and started spewing tracer rounds at the advancing troops. The rounds peppered the hillside, as men were dropped this way and that, as they struggled to maintain their attack. Soon the last round began to pass through the gun and there was a click as the gun ran out of ammunition. Mitchells jump off the gun and continued shooting with his sub-machine gun. He heard a sound in the distance; it was the sound of a chopper. Mitchells ran to the rest of his team in the trenches and grabbed the satellite phone and yelled into the mouthpiece. “Tango Six-One, this is Dog One. LZ hot, cancel the evac.” “Roger that Dog One, evac canceled. Helicopter will perform in an attack role and will be at your disposal.” “Roger that Tango Six-One, Dog One out.” In a matter of seconds the Black Hawk Helicopter flew overhead. The aircraft turned parallel to the hill. The mini gun mounted on its side opened up on the advancing troops. Tracer rounds and rocket streaks filled the sky as they flew at the helicopter, but none hit home. Mitchells fired to support the chopper but he just managed to hear a muffled voice. “Dog One, this is Tango Six-One. Naval support is on its way in support.” “Hit the deck,” Mitchells yelled. “Out going mail is on its way” The rounds hit home, right on the mark. Mitchells didn’t give the navy enough credit. The rounds hit directly on the tree line, followed by a bright flash and then a large explosion followed. Even the helicopter had to move to get away from it. As the smoke cleared Mitchell looked across the slope. It was quiet; there was no sound at all. It was over, it was all over. The helicopter made a slow descent to land near the bunker. Watts picked up Thomas and carried him to the helicopter with Mitchells following behind. Smith stayed behind to cover them. Soon Watts and Thomas were in the bird and Mitchells waited for Smith. “Come on Smith” he yelled. “Let’s get out of here” Smith started walking towards the helicopter but just before Smith made it a shoot rang out. Mitchells looked franticly at the hillside. “Sniper” he yelled as he crouched down. Mitchell turned his head and just saw Smith hit the ground. Mitchell stood up and ran towards his fallen comrade lying on the ground.

Mitchell made it to Smith without being hit by the long range marksman. Smith had a leg wound and needed medical attention fast. Mitchell put Smith over his shoulders and started to carry him to the chopper. A second shot rang out and hit Mitchells in the leg making it difficult for him to walk but Mitchells knew he had to keep moving. A third rang out, but missed Mitchells. Once again the mini gun of the helicopter opened up and fired onto the hillside. Mitchells made it to the helicopter and put Smith on board. The helicopter launched into the air and over the sea, below Mitchells could see the boats of the marine landing party dotted across the shoreline. Mitchells knew that now he was done, he had completed his mission. He looked over at Smith lying against the cockpit wall. “We did it Smith, we did it” Smith didn’t answer. “Smith” Mitchells nudged him and Smith slumped forward. Mitchells checked Smiths pulse, there was no heart beat. Mitchells looked at Smiths neck; there was a small puncture in it. Smith was dead. Mitchells felt a felling of dread as he stared at his dead comrade. He looked back over the ocean and thought to himself he made a promise that he would leave no one behind. He felt relived that he had kept his promise even though one didn’t make it. He had managed to get all of his men out and away from the hell of war.