Page 30 of Metal & Mud

"So they're thinking this is semi-secured area," Logan said, and Adams nodded. "Just like the Romans did. They thought they were moving through German territory that they'd already at least semi-pacified. So here's what I'm thinking. If we put Bron with his machine gun and Corporal Franklin up there in those bushes, they can lay down withering fire while the rest of us can create a fire trap that'll do a lot more damage than just ten or fifteen casualties."

"And how're we supposed to stop them from just busting one way or another out of the trap?" Carter asked. "That's what, two guns per position?"

"One at the front." Logan drew again, "because we should pop this when they're at this sort of angle here. But... we've got those Claymores, right?"

Adams smiled as she saw where he was going. "If we set up one here and here on the side, with two here?—"

"We can pop them if anyone tries to bum rush the front or back door," Logan says, grinning. "I'd say that's Corporal Franklin's job, he'll have the best view and safety from that elevated position."

Adams considered the scratches in the dirt, and nodded. "I like it, but a few changes. The team in the back's going to control the rear Claymore, that's going to be our trigger to spring the ambush. Tom, I want you to have a front safety, but also two side Claymores that'll rip through their ranks. We're going to be spread out, but if this works, we can trap the whole platoon. Okay Hollywood, let's try it. Tom, Bron, you're going to be up top, Tom you're on the front and side Claymores. Hollywood, you'll be with me in the rear, while Carter, you're the cork at the top of the bottle. Give your paint grenades to Hollywood and Tom, they're going to be our grenadiers."

"Man Franklin, you're gonna have more notches on your belt than that trip you took to Virginia Beach for Spring Break after this one," Carter said, and the group laughed.

They got to work, moving quickly to set up the ambush. While their equipment wasn't quite Army standard, they were able to get everything set up and camouflaged reasonably well.

With roughly ten minutes to spare, Logan found himself crouched in a bush, Sergeant Adams by his side. She kept her eyes trained on the forest, her weapon at the ready. "You sure this will work?"

"Nope," he whispered back, checking his rifle again. "They can always go around us. If it were my unit, I'd take the roundabout path if I could, go right through the undergrowth to keep my troops out of a kill zone. But if it's a mistake, then it's my mistake. You've chewed my ass before."

Adams chuckled. "Yeah... not this time though, whether it works or not. You've got a decent idea, but ideas don't always work out. You defended it well though, so if it messes up, that's my fault. Now shhh."

In the distance they could hear footsteps, and the muffled talk of approaching men. Whatever sort of tactical discipline the men were using, it wasn't enough in Logan's opinion.

"What do you see, Dwayne?" a voice said, far too loudly in Logan's opinion. Might as well announce yourself at that point.

"Ain't nuthin' ahead," a man called back, and a few seconds later Logan could see the so-called 'point man' of the patrol coming down the trail. His rifle was out, but he wasn't really being careful. If anything he was just strolling down the trail like he was on a walk.

Then the first group was too close behind, just about twenty meters back, and as they got closer, Logan's couldn't believe his eyes.

They weren't spread out in a line, or a fire team wedge, or even in a three man wedge formation. They were moving in a two man column, one man on each side of the road, supposedly keeping their eyes on the area but clearly not paying that much attention. They weren't even camo'd up properly, their faces uncovered with grease paint. They looked like a unit on their way to a Sunday cookout practically.

They might as well be lining themselves up for getting shot! Did nobody in this unit ever deploy? Or even read the field manual? My drill sergeants at Benning would be reaming them out long before this!

The line continued, uninterrupted at all between squads except for a small bottleneck that was clearly the command element, and next to him he could see Sergeant Adams roll her eyes. She'd spread their fire team out over a roughly hundred meter long stretch of the trail, but the platoon was so compact that by the time the last squad started by, the point man was still not even close to Carter's position.

In some ways it made the ambush less effective. Carter would have to take longer shots, and the 'bodies' of the 'dead' would shield others from Bron's machine gun fire. It didn't matter, Logan was ready to unleash the trap.

"And... now!" Adams pressed the Claymore trigger three times. The twin bangs were both softer and crisper than the whelmping crump of a real Claymore, but plenty loud enough in Logan's ears as he immediately started shooting.

From the very first shot, chaos ensued. Bron opened up from his position in the bush with a long, steady stream of fire from his machine gun, while Logan and Adams fired in quick bursts.

Before the ambushed platoon could even hit the dirt, two more Claymores popped off as Tom Franklin triggered his first set. Panic set in for the ambushed platoon, and Logan poured it on, emptying his magazine before tossing both of his two grenades, blue smoke grenades that were supposed to say everyone within a four meter circle was now dead.

Reloading, Logan barely had a chance to squeeze off half a dozen shots before an air horn went off, and a deep voice bellowed, "Cease fire, cease fire!"

Logan was shocked. Looking at his uniform, there was no paint, and as he looked over at Adams, she was the same way. They had somehow survived the ambush, which meant that the enemy platoon was now either dead, or damn near.

Emerging from the bush they'd been hiding in, he emerged to see yellow paint everywhere along the ambush zone, along with three sputtering smoke grenades. Better yet, he saw Bron and Carter emerge similarly unscathed, and a moment later Tom Franklin stood up too.

The whole fire team had survived.

"Holy hell," Logan whispered as he confirmed to himself that everyone in the enemy platoon was now dead. Even the evaluators, who were wearing white covers on their helmets, had paint on them, with one of them having taken off his helmet to examine the bright yellow dot right where his ear would be.

"Didn't really want to retire anyway," the evaluator said wryly before shaking his head. "Okay, where's the NCO in charge of this ambush?"

Sergeant Adams raised her hand, and took off her helmet. "Right here!"

"You gotta be kidding me," a familiar voice said, and Logan saw another man take off his helmet.

---