Breathe - thought Coletta aloud in his head
Breathe or your lungs really will explode.
Coletta fired another shot at the VC’s brain and it squirted up in the air before falling back down into the water, followed by the rest of the senseless body right afterwards.
The moon’s reflection on the water looked like it had just exploded as well
Calm down.
Take it easy.
Leave a checking fire. Let Ortega tell you in which direction to go and just act accordingly.
They haven't split up yet.
We can still get out.
It was the truth too. They could still make it.
But Ortega had to give his orders, and fast.
Because if he doesn’t, you’ll have to be the one who stays behind to stop them.
It’s your turn to make the sacrifice.
There’s no way I'm going to be the one to die though.
Not tonight, at least.
Coletta hoped that Messner, despite all the chaos, remembered to ask for Prairie Fire by radio (an SOS request). As far as Coletta was concerned, the mission seemed to have gone out the window already for him too. Yeah, it sure as hell had.
Coletta aimed again, but this time when he lifted his rifle, from the corner of his eye, he saw a flash and thanks to those reflexes, he’d saved his own life.
That little flash he’d seen from the side had made him dive for the muddy side of the rice field. In the dark, he’d lost his balance and ended up on all fours in the cold water.
Woosh.
RPG – thought Coletta pushing himself down into the water and against the muddy embankment.
BOOM!
In the end, the explosion itself ultimately pushed him down to the bottom. The darkness above him lit up and he felt a sharp pain in his arm, the sensation of being on fire, but he was underwater. What was going on?
Hit – he thought.
I’ve been hit.
Coletta let go of his M16 and rolled over in the water as the flames continued to burn on the water's surface right above him.
The impact threw his back up against the muddy bottom and he hit it, but fortunately, however the water wasn't deep.
You’ve been hit – he kept repeating to himself.
Followed immediately by:
Are you stuck in the mud?
Are you going to drawn?
Are you wounded?
No, he wasn't stuck. He wasn't going to die like a mouse in a trap under a foot of water.
Yet, he could feel the bullets whizz past him and get stuck in the muddy bank wall above him. He heard gunshots, explosions... all of it. The water transmitted sound fat better than air did.
He had to catch his breath.
He had to get back to the surface and get his M16 back.
Therefore keeping as low as possible, he’d bring his head just over the water level anyway and inhaled deeply.
No one could see him there.
The Vietcong knew vaguely of his whereabouts of course – making it imprudent to stay in the same place for long – but as long as he has stayed that low, they wouldn’t be able to see him and he had shelter too.
Coletta looked around for his rifle, but it had to be under water somewhere. It wasn't that likely it would still be working after having touched a bottom as muddy as that.
There wasn’t any time to clean it either. Certainly not as they were trying to escape from a terrible place like that.
The same held true for his night vision device too, of course.
Coletta drew his Browning Hi-Power from its holster, while he used the other hand to keep feeling around for his M16, so he could put it back on his back.
“I AM OUT!” he yelled to his team.
No one called out back.
Here it is Goddammit... Here's my M16.
That’s where it was.
Okay – he thought staring at his mud-coated completely drenched rifle.
Now for a quick check up, and then we’re outta’ here.
Coletta finally decided to have a look at his shoulder, and, as expected, he had been injured.
Some RPG shrapnel had grazed his shoulder.
Nothing serious.
Just get some stitches, take some antibiotics and you’ll be as good as new.
What really matters now is getting the hell out of here alive, on my own and fast.
Because nobody’s gonna’ come all the way down here to this Goddamn inferno to get me.
“RALLY POINT,” he heard somebody shout out from quite a ways away, somewhere behind him. It might have been Berry.
Well then , I guess they hadn’t left without him after all. That’s good to know at least.
Actually, really good to know.
“ROOOOGER!” Coletta shouted back, quickly realizing from the sound of his voice that something was something definitely not right.
He was in shock.
He needed to catch his breath.
You know what being in shock means and you know how to handle it.
Just breathe deeply.
Done yet? Good.
Now then, pick up that Goddamn' M16 and get the fuck outta’ here.
When he finally got around to picking it up and trying to toss it over his shoulder, he realized he couldn't. His arm wasn't doing what he wanted it to do. Geez.
He couldn't lift it past his head.
Fucking hell.
Now, why wouldn’t he be able to lift his arm? Well, let’s see.
Probably because what he had on his shoulder wasn't exactly what you’d call superficial or anything like that. Taking a better look, it was obvious that the RPG shrapnel hadn't just grazed him, but actually gone in. In actuality, it had gone in and out like a bullet.
I haven’t got time to bleed– he thought.
Truth be told, he really didn’t.
The most important thing at that point was getting the hell away from there, and everything else would have to wait, and that included bleeding.
Anyways, all things considered, Coletta figured he'd about with the state his wound was in, he had twenty minutes at his disposal before he’d probably start feeling weak or something, maybe even disorientated. He could get lost in the Jungle in far less time than that. As for taking care of his bandages and like, he’d move on to that bandages as soon as he got out of range position.
And so, once he’d contemplated all the variables, his chances were still pretty good to
make it out.
That’s what he was hoping anyways.
As a rule, when you’re bleeding to death and you’re under fire as well, thinking clearly becomes a luxury is no easy thing at all.
So, with his M16 on his back and his Hi-power in one hand Coletta jumped out of the way and into the jungle, as the bullets flew recklessly over his head.
Once he had the vegetation as a safeguard, he took cover behind some boulders.
You did it – he thought.
You’re in hiding.
He even had five minutes to spare meaning he could move deeper into the jungle for that much longer before he was actually obliged to stop and specifically take care of his bandages.
What's more, he’d even managed the time to mix up his tracks a bit and throw the VCs off his track.