A soft guitar rhythm sounded through the Humvee as it bounced across the rough desert. I nodded my head to the music, smirking when I saw that everyone but Smiley, who was manning the Fifty, was doing the same. Soon, it built up and the singing began with a repeating, "Hey ey ey yeah."

After doing that six times, the brunt of the song took place. The singing became fast-paced but, surprisingly, us four soldiers were able to keep up,

"Johnny Cash and PBR, Jack Daniels, Nascar,

Facebook, MySpace, iPod, Bill Gates,

Smith and Wesson, NRA, Firewater, Paleface,

Dimebag, Tupac, Heavy Metal, Hip Hop!"

The Sergeant and me hung back as Jones and Gonzales sang the next part. As they were singing, I decided to use my M4 as a pretend guitar while Sarge air drummed on the dashboard. When there part ended, we switched roles. Jones played guitar on his rifle while Gonzales, the driver, started drumming on the steering wheel. Sarge and me were now the ones singing with the song,

"I will not be forgotten, this is my time to shine,

I've got the scars to prove it, only the strong survive,

I'm not afraid of dying, everyone has their ti-"

"RPG! Three o'clock!"

It was mere milliseconds before Smiley, the one who had yelled the warning, had swung the Fifty ninety degrees to the right and depressed the trigger. The roar of the Fifty never seemed to be as loud when inside the Humvee. However, I had other things to worry about as I saw the projectile flying towards us. Actually, the shooter had aimed it ahead of us, at where we would be.

"Brake! Now!" I shouted. I gasped in surprise when my, luckily, helmeted head slammed into the seat in front of me.

"On it!" Gonzales shouted back. The Humvee skidded along the dirt, the tires struggling to find purchase. Again, dumb luck had it to where the Humvee was able to barely avoid smashing into the rocket as it passed in front of us.

"Foot mobiles! Left side!" shouted Jones, as he opened the little, reinforced window of his door and shoved the business end of his M4 through it. It didn't take long for him to begin shooting. I could see the muzzle flash, the rifle buck, the spent cartridge pop out of the chamber, making room for another round to enter.

Of course, that all left my mind as I heard my Sergeant yell,

"More on the right side!" with this, he stuck his M4 out and began to fire as well. Hurriedly, I unclasped the window and swung it out. Struggling with my rifle for a second, I finally shoved the end through the window. There were... lots of insurgents. They must have been expecting an entire convoy because I counted at least three to four squads worth, just on my side alone.

Shaking my head, I pulled the trigger. The rifle bucked and bucked again as I depressed the trigger again and again. While my shots were fast, I made sure they were also aimed. Of course, if an insurgent did fall, I couldn't tell if Sarge got him or if I did.

"Gonzalez!" began the Sergeant, yelling over the gunfire, "Floor it! Get us the fuck out of this killzone!"

"Right Sergeant!" replied the Corporal as he pushed the gas pedal against the floor. The Humvee growled and jumped forward, beginning to pick up speed. That was when I heard the shout of pain. Looking across the Humvee, I saw Jones, the new kid, holding a hand to his gut.

"Jones is hit!" I shouted as I clambered over, letting my sling keep my rifle close to me. Getting to Jones, and avoiding Smiley's legs as he swung the big gun to the left to provide cover, I ripped Jones' vest open. Seeing the wound, I placed both hands against the hole and pushed, hoping the pressure would give him until we got out of this mess.

"RPG! Eight o'clock!"

"RPG! Right side!"

"Fuck!" cursed Gonzales, "RPG to our front!"

I felt my jaw go slack. There was no way we would survive this kind of bombardment. If these shooters were anything like the first, they had us right where they wanted us. Any deviation meant slamming into any of the three projectiles. I looked down at Jones to see him crying and cursing under his breath. Smiley, from the sound had not let up on the trigger, probably hoping to take a few down with him. Sarge drew a cross over his chest before sitting stoically while Gonzales' head was moving back and forth, as if trying to find a way out that wasn't there. Finally, he hung his head and whispered,

"It's been a honor."

That was when the missiles struck. In the flash of their explosion, I felt no pain, no hate, only a deep longing for home and peace.

A/N: I apologize for the short chapter. The next one should have a lot more words.