Chapter 3: Chapter 3
“JUMP” the pilot’s voice roared through the intercom. Jager didn’t hesitate. He rolled out of the Huey’s open door, the wind screaming in his ears as he fell into the void. The world blurred—black sky, blacker water, the distant flicker of tracer fire like dying stars. His body tensed, knees bent, rifle clutched tight to his chest. The impact hit him like a freight train, the breath knocked from his lungs as he rolled through the mud and scrub. He came up steadily , the M16 already tracking the darkness, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. The night was alive with the crack of gunfire and the distant thump of artillery. The air smelled of damp earth and cordite, the taste of war thick on his tongue.
Folly hit the ground a few meters away with a grunt, his body sprawling awkwardly before he scrambled to his feet. His rifle was still clutched in his hands, but his movements were jerky, panicked. Jager didn’t have time to check on him. His focus was on the terrain, the way the shadows shifted beneath the flickering light of flares.