War Hog. this is a fictional story written to acknowledge the hardwork and sacrifice made by men of the military. Thank you for your service and life.

Running like a mad male dog on heat, he knew deep down in his head that no amount of training or years of experience could save him from the fire power behind him, a sensible and logical thing to do would be to strip his gear and ditch it, at least that would take a few pounds off him, allowing him to run faster, No. He ran into every branch and leaf in his way, kicking multiple stones and landing several steps on uneven ground, his current predicament would be far worse if he got hit or say one or all of his pursuers caught up on him. His NVG was no longer of use, every inch of the forest was pitch black and densely afforested, he knew better than to take off his helmet, but the Night Vision goggle kept snapping back to place as he lifted it off, to worsen things for him, the lense had cracked.
He cursed heavily under every breath he could muster, his assault rifle stuck to his arms like an extension, he needed one hand to try and reach for the radio by his right ear again, as cold a night as it was, his palms were so sweaty that they would have soaked saviettes.
"Alpha 4, this is echo, I don't think I can make the border, you gotta come for me, you gotta come for me boss, I need backup, copy"
The occasional bullet swirling by hadn't ceased, once in a while, he would hear the impact of a bullet hitting a tree trunk ahead or beside him, one had hit his gear and was stuck in-between his sack and his BPV. After waiting for a response over the radio and nothing came through, he had to try for the fourth time, this time, he was ready to defy orders.
"Fuck it 'click' Alpha, this is echo, do you read?...
'click'
Alpha, repeat, this is Echo 4, copy"
Still no response
'click'
"Alpha, acknowledge copy or I will defend myself, I repeat, I will root, copy"
Hoping things would yeild a different result this time, he made a quick jump over a ditch he nearly mistook for the absence of leaves on the ground. Still, no response.
His eyes had slowly been accostumed to the environment, sight became an easier task. He decided on his next line of action and he was ready to follow through with his threat to his leader, he intensified his efforts to quicken his already fast pace but to little yields, he sighted a fat trunk that rose into the dark of the night not far ahead and he slightly turned south of his initial directions. Just as he was a few leaps to the tree, an unfortunate ricochet lodged it's hot leaded body in his right shoulder.
"OH SHIIIT!" he made the dive for cover, he fell flat on his face with his carbine buried between his belly and the earth. He quickly raised his back and propped it against the fat trunk, fumbling for morphine shot in his calf storage pocket, only to find that it was broken and all had leaked out. He could feel the bullet burn his skin and yet another sharp pain to his side, just a few inches below his rib cage, he quickly ran a finger to check if it was a second bullet. He had been gutted by the sharp end of a tree branch a few meters back, it was at this point he knew why Alpha wasn't responding, the radio wire had been snapped into two as he was wounded. This was all a mistake now, his threat, rooting, fighting back, it was all a mistake. He had two options; to keep running, hoping he makes the border alive or fix the radio wire and hope it might work, Echo chose the latter. He reached for his compass to try locate what direction to start hauling towards now, the poor thing had fallen off of him. Without a second's thought, he got back to his feet and began hauling ass.

Earlier that morning
The host of insurgents had sighted Echo's parachute far off in the sky, a heavy gust of wind had blown his parachute nothing less than four miles away from his team, he fought against the wind to no end. Even while in flight school, Halo jumps had always had accidental landings that led to fatality, but this was far worse, this was a holocaust. The team had dropped off their C-5M at fourthy thousand feet above sea level, Echo's struggles began at thirty three thousand feet, he struggled to deploy chutes at a few hundred feet from ground only to be welcomed by insurgents' bullets in his chute at five hundred feet. Things took a turn for the worse at this point, the least of his worries was linking up with his team, he was more concerned about not dying before he reached ground, a few trees help ease his landing, not that he didn't sustain a few scratches or hits, but it was better than landing on the ground with a ripped chute, he could have died.

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He slung his custom chopped M4 across his back and continued running, a few leaps on his track and another bullet hit, this time in his left tight, he stumbled and fell, rolling like an armadillo back to his feet, His pace had reduced this time.
He thought to himself why in the seven fermaments couldn't he engage the enemy, this was hostile ground, yet he dared not shoot, that was the order, do not engage anything east of the border. That didn't stop him from dropping a couple of smoke grenades when he sensed the proximity of the insurgents, there must have been at least fifty something of them. He popped all the smoke canisters he had on him, throwing them in his opposite direction, he hoped to buy some time for himself, just then, another one hit, this time, his BPV caught it, the impact sent him to the ground and knocked him out.
The gun fire was a lot closer now, he could hear sounds of off-road bikes too in the distance; as he slowly regained his senses and tried to get on his feet, a bullet swirled past him, he could parcticaly hear the footsteps of his pursuers now, they were danm close. He though of laying there with armed grenades, when the enemy got to him, he would let go and kaboom, problems solved. The fighter in him refused to give up just yet, he got to his feet, tried hopping on one leg and kept moving, he looked back briefly, he could see the head lamps of the off-road bikes now, there was at least six of them, another bullet hit him behind dead center, he was knocked to the ground one more time, his saving grace was his gear, the same gear he was supposed to strip and ditch. He got back on his feet as fast as he could, he had lost sense of distance, all that mattered was to keep going till he reached help or it reached him. countless bullets swired past him now, he was lucky not to have caught one where it really mattered. Suddenly, it stopped, everything stopped, the bikes, the bullets, the gun fire, the marauding foot steps, they all stopped except him, he kept moving still, wondering what just happened, he slowly reduced his pace and took a short glace back, he saw them all, men of military age, lined up facing him, his estimation was near correct, AK47s and RPGs, machetes and clubs, six bikes and 4 horses, a few dogs and a lot of touches. He finally halted and faced the silent lot of them, facing the direction he had been running from, he yelled "WHAT NOW MOTHERFUCKERS, HUN, WHAT ..." He felt a hand grab his shoulder from behind, he made a sharp turn around, drawing his side arm in the process and he took an aim, he was close to squeezing the trigger when his aim was greeted by the face of Bravo 4, and then Alpha 4 who was standing behind a crouched duo of Charlie 4 and Delta 4, all with aimed rifles at the insurgents. His firm grip froze, he was petrified, at last he wasn't going to die or be captured, help had arrived, "you made it Tiger, you made it, gimme the gun" Bravo said to him, he fell to his knees and dropped his head, he didn't know he had made it to the borders and crossed about two hundred and fifty meters back.