Ryan gritted his teeth, swearing silently inside his own head. His body ached, his skull pounding with every heartbeat, and if he was being honest with himself he still wasn’t sure if all of his parts and pieces were properly attached. Risking a second quick glance around the chopper, he judged the distance between them and the enemy and then looked at the trees towards the edge of the clearing. 

It was too far; the enemy was too close, and there was no way in hell he and his boys would make it across that open ground and into the treeline before Charlie cut them all down. Their position could be worse, however. He did a quick sweep of his own men, his mind running through the possibilities.

Four rifles and an M60 could throw down a lot of firepower, and the enemy was well within range of PFC Barne’s shotgun. The metal hulk of the bird would provide cover, and they had hand grenades and a thump-gun that further multiplied the damage they’d be able to dish out. Most importantly, the men approaching the bird were calm, distracted. They clearly weren’t expecting resistance, and the fact that six men had escaped the crash alive was a miracle nobody would have seen coming. The element of surprise was firmly on their side. 

Nodding grimly to himself, Ryan set his jaw and knelt to address his men, his eyes hard. When he spoke his voice was pitched low, barely audible over the crackling flames of the smouldering chopper. 

“Gents, Charlie’s here,” he said without preamble. “We aren’t gonna make it from here to the treeline, they’re too close. We’re fightin’ our way out. Derricks, I want you at the back of the bird, behind the tail. Use it to brace the Pig, it’ll steady your fire, but don’t heft the thing up there until the action starts. I don’t want you gettin’ popped because they see you moving. Barnes, stay on his ass. The rest of you, use the chopper for cover as best you can.”

Pulling a grenade from its pouch, he raised a finger and gave them all a glare. 

“Semi-auto, boys. Any of you motherfuckers cuts loose and wastes a magazine on that bush, I’ll pistol whip you. We go when my grenade pops.”

Ryan himself crept towards the nose of the Huey as the others moved to take their positions. He gave them a five count, then pulled the pin and clutched the grenade tightly. He took a breath, forcing down the pre-battle adrenaline that was flooding his system, then flipped off the spoon of the grenade. [i]One...Two…[/i]

He leaned out and lobbed the grenade underhanded towards the tightly-packed VC, aiming for the ground just in front of them, then quickly pulled back behind the sheltering bulk of the Huey.