A shot to the leg, but I’m still moving. Bullets rip through the air like bees in the summer, their sharp whine cutting through the chaos. I can’t stay in this position much longer. My team was just with me, but when the first shot rang out, it tore through my leg, and the firefight began.
God, my leg. Blood pours down, warm and slick, but there’s no time to dwell on it. I hear the sharp crack of...