Apologies for formatting, etc. Also, tiny details may be wrong but this is as close to accurate as i can remember. tl;dr at the end.
It was mid-september 2010 and we were stuck in a shithole known as the Sangin River District, in Afghanistan. Those of us in first squad were getting ready to go on patrol through an area known only as The Fishbowl, so called because it was deep in a valley, and those that lived in the surrounding mountains could see everything that went on in the bottom.
It was also a completely uncontrolled area that no foreign troops had set foot in since the Russians invaded in the 1970s. It was a pretty sketchy area, to put it mildly lol.
Anyway, there we were getting ready to patrol. SectionLeader checked my gear, and sent me to do the same to the Boots (also known as junior marines, or ‘new joins’). When I started checking M, everything started normally. Flak vest, Kevlar, 8 loaded mags, med kit, nut flap... but when I got to his drop pouch, my stomach clenched.
It was the worst possible thing I could have found, especially right before a big patrol; a half-eaten roll of Charms candy, taken out of an MRE. Now, as any infantrymen can tell you, charms are seriously bad juju.
“Jesus fucking Christ, M... Charms?!? Are you TRYING to get us killed? Remind me to beat your ass if we survive this shit. Go bury those things in the fucking burn pit before anyone else sees them. Dumbass. “
Once we finally stepped off, the first few hours were fairly quiet. We all got off a couple shots here and there, but nothing to write home about. Suddenly, while we were crossing this huge open field about halfway through hour four...
CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK
Dirt sprayed us as a line of bullets strafed the ground about 15 feet to our right. Instinctively we dropped to the dirt, presenting a smaller target while we tried to figure out exactly who the fuck was shooting at us.
“Between 2 and 4 o clock, in those compounds! Jesus, there’s like 40 of them!”
“Shit. Ok, we’re gonna buddy-rush to that cornfield to our 6; it’ll at least get us out of the open. We’re way too exposed out here. The rest of us will lay down surpressive fire. Go!”
“P, you and B go first so you can set up the 240”.
(Side note, if you’ve never seen a four-and-a-half foot Mexican sprint across an open field with a 30 pound machine gun, firing from the hip like a boss... well it’s entertaining to say the least)
As soon as the last two of us made it safely into the corn, I heard SL mutter “I got somethin’ for yo ass...” right before he got on the radio. The rest of us started to get excited as we realized what he was doing; he was calling artillery. Soon we could hear the whistle of incoming rounds, growing louder and more shrill the closer they came.
BOOM It hit about 100 meters short of the compounds. “Plus One-Zero-Zero, over” “Roger, over” Again came the whistle, louder and more shrill than before. Wait, why was it so much louder this time? What the hell was BOOM!
Jesus, that was even closer than before! BOOM! Another one, even closer! BOOM! My teeth are rattling, and i can taste ozone. The sharp smell of gunpowder fills my nostrils.
I can’t believe this is it, this is the day i’m going to die, and it’s gonna be those useless fucking artillery POG bitches that kill me.
BOOM! “You’re adjusting the wrong way! Abort mission ABORT MISSION!” SL yells into the radio, and gets nothing but static in reply.
“Shit shit shit... we’ve gotta get the fuck back, get to the tree line!” Suddenly, silence. Sweet, glorious silence. No shots fired, no whistle of incoming arty, no yelling. It was over. Sigh. I’ve really got to remember to beat M’s ass when we get back. Goddamn charms. What an idiot.
tl;dr - a squad member tries to bring candy well known for being bad luck on patrol, almost gets the entire squad pink-misted