They were down to twenty five people now. The Sargeant saw the boats about to arrive, but the question would be if his men would live that long to get off this hell hole.

"You fucking maggots, let me show you what happens when you mess with the best!" The sargeant emptied his rifle into the crowd of undead. They slowly advanced towards him, and one reached him just as he ran out of ammo. He then threw the rifle at the undead, dazing it enough for him to pull out his sidearm and give it a lead headache. While still firing his pistol, he grabbed another rifle from a dead soldier and began to fire that as well, providing a stream of bullets which all hit their targets. An undead attempted to get the jump on him, attacking him as he ran out of ammo, but he had other plans.

The sargeant sidestepped as the slow undead swung it's sword, and he grabbed one of his grenades, slammed his fist with said grenade into the undead's skull, lodging it into the poor soul's head, and kicked it into it's friends, and it exploded, taking many with it. The sargeant had bought his platoon a minute or so.

Which was enough for the gunboats to reach the shore and fire at the undead with their gatling guns and grenade launchers, temporarily holding the horde back. 

"On the boats boys, we're outta here." The sargeant boarded one of the boats, along with four of his men as the boats began to pull away and head back to their respective carriers. It was hell, but they got out of it...

Twenty-five out of two hundred... he hadn't seen casualties like this since that op in Brazil... At least he made sure some of his men made it out. Those bastards would pay alright. Godsplitter was on its way, and he hoped every last one of them died in the blast.

They killed good men today.