Gone in a Flash

We were separated by at least 10 feet as I try never to get in the way of the operator. I was at the backside of the fighting hole.

His selected rate of fire was ‘three-at-a-time.’ His part of the mission was to force the enemy to take cover.

This grunt suddenly stopped firing, rose up, and turned sharply as if to run. The look on his face said, “Too fucking late!”

He was there — until he wasn’t there. I woke up with one hell of a headache and nothing more than a concussion, his body having absorbed the blast.