Shoot hollered Willie B. Where I screamed. Shoot, Shoot. Screamed Willie B. Again. I clicked my rifle from safe to full auto and let it rip in the direction of the tracers from the other two guys. I fired one complete magazine. I had no idea what was happening. I changed magazines. I buried my face in the dirt attempting to make myself invisible. I was terrified. I lie there cowering by hiding my face in the dirt. I had no idea what to do. Shoot screamed Willie B. again. My rifle had a bi-pod attached to the front of it as it was a select fire. (Semi or full auto). I extended the bi-pod and again ripped off full auto rounds. My hands and fingers were moving too slow. It was as if I was moving in slow motion. I couldnt make my hands move any faster. I kept shooting like the other two. At what, I had no idea. My heart was pumping ninety miles an hour. I heard firing erupt from the NDP then stop. A piece of hot brass hit me in the neck and went down my fatigue shirt burning the hell out of me. I kept firing and trying to shake the hot brass out of my shirt at the same time. I had fired six magazines before I noticed the other two had stopped firing. I errently touched the barrel of my rifle and got a burn that bubbled up the skin. We all lie still. My mouth was so dry, I couldnt swallow. I was shaking badly and couldnt catch my breath. Again, I buried my face in the dirt in a futile attempt to escape. I didnt like any of this. This wasnt at all like playing soldier in the back yard as a kid.
