Issue In Doubt by David Sherman

bent over below the height of the bushes, and Mackie was feeling the strain in his back after a couple of hundred meters. He knew Orndoff and Zion had to be feeling at least as much back strain, probably more—they hadn’t been Marines for as long as he had. He was just grateful that so far nobody in the platoon had gotten hung up on thorns and given them away.
    But it couldn’t last. Still more than seventy-five meters from the top of the ridge somebody, Mackie couldn’t tell who, yelped out loud. The aggressor force on the ridge must have been alert, because the entire line erupted with fire.
    “Squads,” Martin shouted into the platoon net, “advance by fire and maneuver! Guns, lay down supporting fire!”
    Seconds later, randomly spaced flash-bangs started going off on the slope, simulating mortar fire.
    “First and third fire teams, advance twenty meters!” Adriance shouted.
    “First fire team, let’s go! Spread to my flanks.” Mackie lurched ahead, still hunched over. Orndoff and Zion ran to his sides. Zion stumbled into a thorn bush and yelled. Mackie had to dodge a bush himself. “Disconnect and catch up!” About twenty meters ahead of where he’d been when the order to advance came, he hit the dirt and began firing up the slope toward the ridge. But he was shooting blind, he couldn’t see anything through the bushes. Over the fire, he heard Adriance order second fire team to advance. The platoon’s fire didn’t sound as heavy as it should have, he thought the enemy fire must be effective if that many of the Marines were down, frozen in their armor.
    “First fire team, go!” Adriance shouted. “Second and third, lay down fire!”
    Good! Mackie thought. The textbook method of two fire teams advancing while one covered them didn’t provide enough covering fire, so Adriance was moving the fire teams up one at a time to provide a heavier base of fire. Just what I’d do.
    And then he broke out of the bushes onto ground that had been cleared as a killing zone.
    “First fire team, down!” Mackie said. He heard Zion drop down on his right and begin firing up slope. He didn’t hear Orndoff on his left.
    “Orndoff, report!” No answer. Damn! Mackie didn’t have time to worry about Orndoff now, he had to place heavy, accurate fire on the positions on the ridge top.
    In moments, it sounded like most of third platoon had reached the cleared area. Even the gun teams had moved up to add their heavier fire. The return fire wasn’t as heavy as it had been; the Marines’ fire must have had an effect on the aggressor force. But the flash-bangs showing mortar strikes were coming closer.
    “Fire and maneuver individually within fire teams, twenty meters!” Martin ordered.
    “Fire team leaders, advance your men one at a time!” was the order from the squad leaders.
    “Zion, go ten meters,” Mackie said. As soon as Zion dropped into a firing position ten meters farther up the slope, Mackie called out, “Orndoff!” but got no reply. He jumped up himself and sprinted a zigzag to drop down a few meters from Zion, and resume firing. “Zion, go ten!” This time, when Zion hit the deck, Mackie didn’t call for Orndoff, but jumped up and ran forward. In seconds, everyone in third platoon who was still combat effective was on line, about thirty meters away from the ridgeline positions.
    Martin gave the order. “Third platoon, charge!”
    The Marines surged to their feet and sped uphill, firing as they went.
    There was a bunker almost directly in front of Mackie. He angled his run to reach the bunker just at the side of its embrasure, firing his automatic rifle at the opening. He reached the bunker, slammed his back against its front next to the embrasure, and jerked a flash-bang simulated grenade from his webbing. He held it for a couple of seconds after pulling its pin, then threw the flash-bang inside as hard as he could. After the simulated grenade went off, Mackie spun around the side of the bunker and