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Approaching the Battlefield as anxiety takes control,
When navigating the RHIB boat starts to take its toll
Accelerating towards the sand through a fog of brass,
Set forth by an enemy who you seek to outclass.
Landing on the shore is imminent, one step closer to your goal,
M4 carbine at the ready and it's time to rock 'n' roll.
Tearing across the golden sand and leaving footprints as you go,
As your squad mates lay suppressing fire upon your perilous foe.
Fending off the rival marksmen hidden in heaps of rubble,
And evading a battle tank before it gets you into trouble.
Explosions emanating from all around, grenades tossed to and fro,
Air support is now en route and now there's no need to lay low.
Lockheed Martin's finest soar across the skies,
Your dying brother lies beside you staring up with empty eyes.
In the midst of all the anguish you attempt to revive,
Before you realise you can't do anything to keep the man alive.
Across the street there is a Russian, you formulate his demise,
Drive your knife into his neck and take his tags as your prize.
Pushing back the enemy and advancing as a line,
And every few steps you take you make sure to plant a mine.
Sprinting towards the M-COM through mortar blasts and smoke,
Death creating memories you won't ever want to evoke.
Creeping past claymores, moving slow so you'll be fine,
Cowardly tactics being used by an enemy without a spine.
Reinforcements in the Amtrac and a heli in support,
Rigging the M-COM with explosives with no time to abort.
Russians on their way alerted by the ear-splitting alarm,
All with one thing on their mind and that is to disarm.
Detonating C4 explosives, killing them without a thought,
Now it's time for your extraction and time is getting short.
When you are winning a war almost everything that happens can be claimed to be right and wise. – Winston Chuchill