I'll tell one of my war stories for you guys since it is fathers day.
It was my first day in Afghanistan, my 7th deployment in the Spetsnaz. I was doing my rounds of the base, and I heard a crack. One of our snipers dropped a Afghani soldier with an RPK rushing the Line. We hear a loud scream and out of the hills pour a wave of Afghani troops, bullets start to whiz bye my head and I dropped to the ground AK-74 firing. I dropped six of them while dropping, everything started to slow down a bit; I looked to my left to see an old friend of mine get on one of our armored trucks and open up with the PKM machine gun. Out of the corner of my eye I see a flash and look back over at Sergei and notice he's been shot in the shoulder, I get up and start to move over towards him. In the blink of an eye the truck is blown to pieces by an RPG-7 (you can tell them apart from all others by the whoosh sounds the tail find make as they fly). I took aim again to see how many I can put down, I empty magazine after magazine, doing as much damage as possible. That time rolls around again for another reload, but to my surprise there's an Afghani soldier running towards me. I ditched the magazine, skin my rifle, drew my Makarov and emptied a magazine into his head. It was overkill to say the least; I reload and move to a different position and continue firing. This lasted an entire day, but we took all of them out. The clean up was awful, the air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, rotting corpses, and the screams of the wounded. I started to tally everything up in my head, we lost seven men throughout the entire engagement, but they lost over one hundred and thirty. I went to the Medic, because apparently I had taken a hit, I couldn't feel it at all due to the amount of adrenaline and my training. I took a round to the elbow, and got patched up and did my rounds again.
I hope you guys enjoyed it, it's not an easy thing for me to talk about.
Have a goodnight guys
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