The soldiers were deployed around the hospital where their informant assured them the Prisoner, their captured comrade in arms, had been taken. They knew that enemy soldiers had been stationed in the hospital, and expected a fierce fight, but they knew they had to go in. Rule number one of combat: leave no soldier behind.
“Go! Go! Go!” the Sergeant barked into his headset. The soldiers advanced on the hospital.
“Was that enemy fire?” somebody shouted.
“Defend yourselves!” the Sergeant commanded. The soldiers entered the hospital with guns blazing.
“Where is the American prisoner?” the Sergeant barked at a nurse who was cringing against a wall. She pointed down a hall. “Come on!” the Sergeant ordered his men, who obediently followed him down the hall.
At the end of the hall, they found the Prisoner fitfully sleeping on a bed in a ward. The Sergeant demanded to know who had taken care of her. A native Doctor hesitantly stepped forward.
“Has she…been shot?” the Sergeant demanded to know.
The Doctor shrugged.
“Was she tortured?” somebody asked.
“Anything is possible,” the Doctor answered.
“Bastards!” somebody said under his breath.
The Prisoner stirred. “Umm…where am I?” she asked.
“It’s okay,” the Sergeant told her. “You’re with friends. Can you…can you tell us what happened?”
“It’s all very hazy…” the Prisoner stated. “We were driving down the highway – there was an explosion and some gunfire.
“I don’t remember much more than that,” the Prisoner, a little frightened, added. “The next thing I clearly remember is…waking up in this bed.”
“It must have been a very traumatic experience for you,” somebody commented.
“Come on,” the Sergeant smiled. “It’s time to get you home.”
The troops slowly made their way out of the hospital. “Is that a sniper on the roof?” somebody shouted. A few of the Americans opened fire, giving their troops cover under which they returned to their vehicles and sped away.
Thus are tales of military heroics born.