“s**t. s**t. s**t,” he heard Cruz say. But Wynn had already turned away. The gunfire continued, the loud air cracks chaotic.
Who was firing? From where? Confusion reigned. He wanted certainty; couldn’t get it. Had to stay calm. A gunfight burned around him. Both AK47s and M4s fired. No heavy guns yet.
Wynn grabbed his radio and called Cooke. “4, this is 1, what do you see? We’re going to need a MEDEVAC. Tyson’s been hit.”
More gunfire hammered.
A .50 cal opened up. It was a 3rd platoon weapon. Wynn rolled back to the other side of the kiln where he could see it. The .50 barked short bursts, spitting fire. Even from this distance, he could see the brass from the expended rounds ejecting like a shower.
Cooke hadn’t answered.
Wynn rolled back flat on his back and called again. “Four, yo
