He didn’t know which he detested more--the screaming of the alarm clock he knew was coming or the obnoxious snoring of his bunkmate. Either way, he suspected it’d keep him awake on the rickety cot for the majority of the night. Despite this, after several minutes of lying awake, the fatigue of the day overcame him and he drifted off into a fitful sleep. Next thing he knew, an alarm was going off. Not his, but a louder, deeper one going off, like an air raid siren. In a hazy panic, he vaulted off his cot and grabbed his M4A1 service rifle. Before he could charge out of the barracks though, a strong arm grabbed him by the neck of his t-shirt and yanked him back. “Woah there Nate, no need to get hasty,” commanded the cool voice of the barracks sergeant, “just a mortar attack. Happens all the time”. Slightly embarrassed, he retreated back to his bunk, the muffled sound of explosions going off in the distance. From what he’d heard, the insurgents never hit anything of significance.
The rest of the night provided no sleep to him though, and soon enough, his own alarm was the one piercing the stale barracks air. He slid out of bed, and quietly donned his daily apparel. First came the pants, just a standard pair of Multicam tactical pants. Then came combat boots. His combat shirt lay hanging in his wall locker. Emblazoned on it was represented all the things he had spent his time in the Air Force working towards. On one shoulder was his name tag, which displayed his rank and name: Senior Airman Nathaniel Aries. His other shoulder contained the simple letters “PJ” which represented his job as a Pararescue Jumper.
“Oh those letters” he thought to himself, “those two little letters represent so much”.
Despite the simplicity of the letters and relatively obscurity of his career, he had fought as hard as any other special operations member to be bestowed the privilege of becoming an elite warfighter. Two years of seemingly impossible training including military freefall, combat diving, and EMT paramedic school, and yet his Army Ranger and SEAL friends always jested with him about his job, saying that he was just a glorified combat medic.
“Maybe I am” he mused, “but they won’t be so quick to make fun when they get wounded and need my team to pull them out”.
He sat on his bunk shirtless, with nothing but his sculpted torso and dogtags. He eventually got up and, he slipped on his combat shirt and began the check his gear. Ballistic vest with supplies, weapon, and helmet were all there and ready to go in case he needed them.
After his kit was satisfactory, he trotted out of the barracks to get to the chow hall. As soon as he slipped through the door, the blinding desert sun flashed into his eyes. Squinting, he made out the words on the control tower across the airfield. “Kandahar Airfield ” the bold lettering read. The reality began to hit him that he was really here. The first day, of his first deployment. His eyes scanning the area for noticeable damage, he began his stroll to the mess hall.
As he ate, the reality of his situation set in. How dangerous it really would be out there beyond the barbed wire. He didn’t finish the rest of his breakfast.
He spent the majority of the day lounging around in the command center, playing childish games like Call of Duty; games which he had grown up on that once seemed so real and intense . Some of his older teammates skyped their wives or girlfriends. He had no such person. His parents were the ones who had influenced him to become a medic, but overall they weren’t a large presence in his life.
“I wish I could skype Tango” he mused, “Who’s throwing sticks for her?”
His shift was about to be relieved, and he was ten seconds away from flopping into bed when it came. “AIRCREW. SCRAMBLE. SCRAMBLE. SCRAMBLE.”
He grabbed his gear and sprinted outside to the whirring turbines of the Blackhawk chopper. He met up with his Combat Rescue Officer, a captain of about 30 with piercing dark eyes.
“We got a SEAL with a Cat Alpha IED injury” the captain screamed over the choppers blades “30 klicks north, friendlies in contact with insurgents”.
“Sunavabitch” cursed Aries under his breath. Cat Alpha was the most serious category of injury. The mission report stated that an IED blast took off the SEALs leg. On top of that, the area was rife with enemies. With a surge of motivational adrenaline, he jumped in the helicopter.
Three kilometers out, a strangle sound perforated the air over the sound of the whirring blades. Ting. Ting. Whiz. Zip. It sounded almost comical—except its origin is gunfire hitting sheet metal.
“CONTACT LEFT” Screamed the pilot “Someone get on the 7.62!!!”
The left side of the helicopter erupted in the BRRRRRRRRRRRT that only a minigun can make as it rained hell down upon the insurgents below. Within no time, the chopper was over the landing zone.
“Too hot” yelled the pilot “you gotta fastrope!”
Aries was first out the door of the hovering over the zone. Grabbing the thick, coiled cable, he slid down to the firefight below, with his teammate’s right behind him.
He heard in his headset the voice of the pilot “The zone is too hot! Secure the wounded, then clear the area and we’ll be in to get you!”
Aries sprinted to the SEAL commander taking cover in the ditch.
“We got the guy with an IED blast to the left leg!” Hollered the commander over the crackling of gunfire “Plus two guys with gunshot wounds since you got the call”.
Aries crawled along the ditch to the cover of a wall where he met with the Rescue Officer to relay the news. After the meeting he vaulted the wall and crawled over to a man in American combat fatigues who was firing his M249 machine gun in the vague direction of the enemy fire with ardent determination, despite the extensive amount of blood spurting out of his arm.
“I need you to lie back” hollered Aries, keeping his composure “I need to get a tourniquet on this!”
Begrudgingly, the man complied. No sooner had the tourniquet been applied than a bullet whizzed straight past Aries face and straight into the chest of the SEAL.
“S***” screamed the man. Adreneline pumping, Aries cleaned the wound and applied pressure. The man wasn’t breathing and his chest was swelled, which Aries immediately recognized as acute tension pneumothorax due to bullet lacerations of the left lung. He prepared a small device known as a chest dart, a risky piece of equipment that would puncture the lung and create a secondary airway to outside the body to relieve pressure from the effected lung. Though he was new in the combat zone, his medcal training took over and the dart plunged into the SEALS lung with immediate results. But no sooner had the man stabilized when a round split the air in front of Aries head and slammed into the wall behind him.
“GODDAMIT” screamed Aries, “GET SOME!” He dropped to his stomach and peered down the scope of his rifle at the figures and the distance. Pop. Pop. Pop. The muzzle of his gun erupted in flames. The figures dropped.
Feeling confident in the situation, Aries picked the man up over his shoulder and attempted to make his way back to the compound. He could see the helicopter coming in for a landing.
A searing pain filled his left leg, like he had been stung by the worlds biggest wasp. His free hand reached down and felt his own warm blood. He still knew what he had to. He had to get to that chopper. He limped and hopped his way back to the waiting chopper, rounds whizzing around him, though fortunately none hit him. He sprawled his patient out on the floor of the helicopter in care of the other PJs, then dropped to a knee, swearing enough to make the Virgin Mary cry.
Applying a quick bandage to himself, he hobbled over to the Rescue Officer who was talking with the SEAL commander still in cover with several others.
“Aries!” barked the Officer “You good?”
“Yes sir!” Screamed Aries “Lets give these -------- what they asked for!”
The next hour was a blur. Choppers buzzed in and out grabbing wounded and providing fire support. Finally, it was over.
“Time to go” screamed the Officer “Lets get out of here!”
Aries dropped to a knee and began scanning for enemies as the remaining men ran for the chopper. Once everyone was in he himself began to sprint towards the waiting helicopter.
He saw a man a distance behind the helicopter dressed in all black carrying what looked like a tube. Time went in slow motion as the man aimed the tube toward the chopper. A projectile appeared out of the end of the tube and sped towards the helicopter.
“NO!!!!” Screamed Aries frantically. The projectile looked doomed to hit.
To Aries surprise though, it flew through the open door. Time stood still. He could see the astonished look on everyones face. He started to breathe a sigh of relief… until it continued to fly straight at him
Boom. Everything was enveloped inside a rflash of white hot metal. Pain erupted from every part of his body as he fell. The world began to fade into black. The final words running through his head were those  of the the end of the pararescue motto. “These things we do that others may live”. Blackness.

He slowly blinked. All he saw was the blue mask of the doctor hovering above.