Word: bellavia
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...well. "Let the f_____ burn," said a squad leader. When a group of insurgents brandishing RPGs was spotted 400 yds. south, Meno called in mortar fire from the rear and Abrams tank fire from the front. The insurgents had no chance. "Hey, LT, good call. That's perfect," said Bellavia. As if to punctuate the score, a direct hit on the building where the insurgents had taken cover set off repeated secondary explosions...
Reaching the barred window near the front door, Bellavia tells two soldiers to perch by the house corner and watch for insurgents trying to leap out the side window. He looks at Staff Sergeant Scott Lawson and says, "You're f______ coming. Give suppressive fire at 45 degrees." Bellavia and Lawson step nervously into the house. From the living room, Bellavia rounds the corner into the hallway. The insurgents are still alive. Their AK-47s fire. Bellavia fires back, killing them both. "Two f_____s down," he says...
Lawson stays downstairs while Bellavia scours the first floor for more insurgents. A string of rapid-fire single shots ring out. Then silence. Then a low, pained moaning. The two soldiers waiting in the courtyard call out to Bellavia, "Hey, Sergeant Bell," but get no response. "Sergeant Bell is not answering," a message is shouted back to the platoon members across the street. "We need more guys." The platoon's other staff sergeant, Colin Fitts, 26, steps up. "Let's go," he says...
Fitts takes a small team over the road. "Terminators coming in," he bellows as he goes inside, using the unit's name in a code to warn that friendly forces are entering. Inside they find Bellavia alive and on on the hunt. Upstairs he scans the bedrooms. An insurgent jumps out of the cupboard. Bellavia falls down and fires, spraying the man with bullets. At some point another insurgent drops out of the ceiling. Yet another runs to a window and makes for the garden. Bellavia hits him in the legs and lower back as he flees. When...
...dark using night-vision equipment, the insurgents focused their attacks in the dim light of dawn and dusk. As the sun set, a decrepit warehouse suddenly sparkled with at least a dozen muzzle flashes. Bullets flew thick over the unit's commandeered building. "Look at the industrial complex," Bellavia yelled at his men. "I want you to shoot, shoot." The Wolf Pack lashed back with chattering automatic-weapons fire. A sister platoon, bunkered down a few hundred yards to the west, joined in, bringing a deadly cross fire to bear on the insurgents. Streams of red tracers scorched into...