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"Why in the hell did I join the army?" Bomber moaned to himself, as he lobbed the smoke grenade between him and the impromptu bunker that the insurgents were shooting out of.

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU CORPERAL?!" He screamed into the headset, "YOU'RE NOT GETTING PAID TO DAWDLE!"

Lewis' voice crackled over the radio "Quit yer bitchen', we're almost in position. Hey that rhymed! Coo-"

"GODDAMMIT LEWIS" This was not his day, of course, it never really was your day in the army.

"We're going, stop yelling. Y'all got a damn good pair o' lungs on ya, I feel fo' your momma." Lewis was unmistakable, his speech thick with a Nova Scotian accent. "We're in position there cowboy, we've got ya covered frum here to dat dere hut to tha south."

Rolling his eyes, Bomber slid down into the drivers seat, hitting the gas, he swerved towards his two squad mates, who were pouring fire on the enemy. "Get ready to jump in you two." Bomber slid to a stop barely a metre from them. As soon as he heard the doors slam on either side, he gunned the throttle and sped around to point at the dusty pathetic excuse of a where the rest of the unit was.

Controlling the Humvee was a challenge, despite the fact that it was supposed to have some of the best four wheel capability in the modern world. Not only was the road rough and uneven (even completely missing in some places), but the suspension was shot. Literally. A few weeks back they had been in a convoy that had run past an ancient russian minefield, most of the mines were long dead, but one blew up a few metres to the side, tearing apart the hydraulics and blowing out the eardrums of the entire convoy. Fortunately nobody was hurt, although Col. Saunders vowed to do some very violent, and in one case sexually explicit, to the Czech engineer battalion that had supposedly "cleared" this stretch of land.

Not quite labeled a scavenger, at least not to his face, the Canadian soldier learns to make do with sub-par equipment. Making up for that he has vast amounts of ingenuity, imagination, and determination. But that doesn't stop the occasional crap repair job from being done.

Hank raised Moreau on the Squad frequency, "Remind me to rip Smear a new arsehole when we get back to camp Napolaen. Bastard's crap repairs are coming apart again."

"Duly noted Cpl. Now please hurry the fuck up." The response came in crystal clear over the radio, which prompted Hank to raise his eyebrows and wonder why comm would clear up just in time for Tim to cuss. But pondering that wasn't exactly high on the to-do list for Hank, so quickly shoving it to the side of his mind, he stomped on the gas pedal with renewed vigour.

Fishtailing to a halt in front of the impromptu Command Post, Hank jumped onto the .50 and raised Tank and Lewis over Team Comm. "Be ready to run like hell on my mark boys," He flicked off the safety and swiveled around to face the outline of the enemy hard point through the dissipating smoke. "Three, two, mark." He started blasting away at windows and balcony's, trying to make the insurgents keep their heads down more so than injure them.

There was nothing quite like the feeling of a pouring 3000 Fifty caliber rounds down range. It's not something that can really be described, suffice to say, it was one of the simple things in life that Hank thoroughly enjoyed. Something about the smell of the burnt cordite, the feeling of having your teeth rattled out of your gums, that never really got old. Looked at it from that perspective, it's not really surprising that he started laughing as loud as he could. Although everyone else on the radio didn't have quite the same outlook on life as Hank, nor the time to think at why he would start laughing like a feral hyena. So it's also easy to see why Lt. Carstez decided to put him up on psychological evaluation.

Abrubtly the firing from the .50 cal stopped while Lewis and Tank were still only halfway across the courtyard. "I think we might have a problem Napolean..." Hank murmered over the Tac-Com. Knowing he was in deep shit.

"Hank?" Tims voice seemed eerily quiet in Hanks ears, probably due to the fact he was firing the .50 nonstop for almost 5 minutes.

Swallowing, he managed to muster up a meek "Sir?"

"DID YOU USE UP ALL OF THE FUCKING AMMO AGAIN?!?"

'Now' he could hear perfectly, in fact, if he wasn't already temporarily deaf from the gunfire, he was pretty sure that would have made him so. "That is a distanct possibilty sir..."

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Slamming down behind the well, Tank came extremely close to having to file out a lot of paper work as he nearly crushed Spall. However, Spall was a little too busy trying not to get his tail shot off to notice, so Tank assumed he was in the clear.

"Sir, in case you haven't noticed, we're still caught out in the middle of the courtyard with no cover." Spall intoned, trying to be as civilized as he could get well being shot at by enough small arms to arm th- well, they WERE arming a third world country.

Lt. Carstez's voice crackled on the radio, "I realize that Corperal, hold tight, we're coming to you."

Tank blinked, "Di' he jus' say dat he wos coming to US? Out in ae middle of dis' courtyard, pinned'un by three times 'or number, and dat Humvee is plum out of ammo."

Spall craned his neck, "I do believe he did, I'm sure he has a plan, whether or not it invlolves us dying in a horribly fiery death is another thing altogether."

_________________________________________________________________________________

"You want to do WHAT?" Sgt. Moreau nearly lost his eyes, they were bulging so far out of his head.

"If you would lift your chin off the floor and listen to me for a second Moreau. I would be happy to explain my plan a third time to you while two of your men are getting shot to ribbons in an active fire zone." Lt. Carstez said rather sarcastically. "And no, just because I'm a hyena, doesn't mean every single plan I come up with is insane, just most."

"Fine, but I'm NOT being the poor sod that has to sit under Faraday."

"Hey, being in command has it's privileges."

____________________________________________________________________________

Tank looked up as the Humvee fishtailed to a stop right beside the well, windows covered with bulletproof vests.

The drivers side door opened and Carstez popped his Snout out of the door. "You going to sit there all day or get in the trunk?" He asked.