I’m on the Rebel front lines with Richard Engel. We’re on the outskirts of a settlement.
As we’re taking in the situation, our position comes under fire. Within seconds, a significant number of rebels holding the line are hit, and we find ourselves exposed to enemy attack with little cover and even less infantry support. It’s clear that if our position is overrun, we won’t be spared and so we take cover behind some sand bags and weigh our options. As we peek out from our cover, we see a group of armed men coming from the settlement towards our position. Some of the few remaining rebels are firing mortars as they advance, but they are eventually hit and the mortar goes silent.
I run to the mortar and start dropping rounds in the tube. My aim is horrible, but I try and correct as best I can. Finally, I drop one right into the center of the advancing soldiers and three or four somersault through the air like rag dolls. I’m totally amazed, but satisfied. Chock one up to adrenaline.
Almost immediately, I’m taking fire from a position that I cannot see.
Diving behind cover, I spot the sniper on a rooftop. His aim is off, but too close for comfort. We are pinned down. Peeking my head from behind cover, I notice another push towards our position. I pick up an AK-47 and start to fire. Once again, my weapon handling is atrocious, but I manage to pick several off as they come nearer. Relieved, I take cover and pop the magazine out and search for another.
There are a dozen magazines on the ground, but they are all empty. The loyalist attack stalls for a moment, and we decide to run for our lives.
Throughout this, Engel is cool, but not participating in the fighting. His main concern is that I’m going to die and probably shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I agree with this, but if I’m dying here I’m taking a few of the bastards with me.
We run. I keep the AK, hoping to find some ammunition before we die.
Sometime during the exodus, I realize that we are flanked by minefields on either side.
As we flee, I notice loyalist troops flanking to our left and moving through the minefield. I repeatedly yell at the rebels and point to their position. They either don’t hear me, don’t understand me or don’t care and I’m frustrated that I still can’t find ammo.
Eventually, the rebels are alerted somehow to the flanking movement and try to stall the advance with machine guns mounted on pickups. They still aren’t aware of the mines, and we watch the trucks disappear in fountains of fire.
Finally we make it to some buildings. Still without any ammo, I continue to try and alert those around me to the flanking movement. Nobody is responding and the loyalists are getting close.
I come to the realization that these are most likely my last moments. I have no idea what I’m doing there in the first place. It’s like I’ve just been dropped there in the middle of a dream.
Ammo! I can’t believe it but I found some. I pop a clip, hop out from my cover and mow them like my parent’s backyard. Once again, I’m miraculously untouched. The loyalist troops start to fall back.
Feeling like John Rambo, I stalk the desert. However, a friendly chopper touches down nearby and Engel hustles me aboard. The chopper crew stares at me incredulously, but I’m obviously not supposed to be there, so they strap me in and we lift off.
Weird.
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