Inside the track the ping of hot metal and rocks kicked up by the detonation of another burst of 30mm HE and armor piercing rounds to the right of the Bradley could be heard. “Attack!” Kelo stammered. “We’re under attack.”

The track commander said nothing nor asked any further questions. Making his way past the other men of his crew, he snaked his way into the turret, pushing Kelo out of the way as he did so. “LARRY!” he yelled in the direction of the driver’s compartment. “Crank this bitch up and get ready to haul ass!”

The driver was already awake and in the process of starting the vehicle. “Where to?”

Looking up at the open hatch, the track commander thought twice about sticking his head out. But he had no choice. If he didn’t do so they’d all die then and there. Drawing in a deep breath, the track commander shot up into his seat and through the open hatch.

Once outside he jerked his head this way, then that. The sound of the other Bradley, already on the move, could be heard above the rumble of his own vehicle’s engine. The track commander squatted down on his seat and turned to Kelo. “Toss me my CVC!”

Looking about frantically, Kelo spotted his commander’s combat vehicle crewman’s helmet, grabbed it and shoved it into his commander’s waiting hands.

Pulling it on, the track commander keyed the radio and called to the other Bradley which was out there trashing about. “Bravo Two Two, where are you going?”

When the commander of the other track responded, he didn’t bother with call signs. “I’m getting the hell out of here. Those are Apaches out there!”

Since the track commander of Bravo Two Two was also the section leader, Kelo’s commander saw no choice but to follow. Besides, it was clear that their little ambush had been blown. There was no point in staying where they were. “Okay, Larry,” the track commander shouted over the vehicle’s intercom, “get us outta here, and fast.”

The driver didn’t need to be told twice or given any further guidance.

From their attack positions, the Apache crew watched the two Bradleys scramble for the deserted highway and make their way north as fast as their Cummins four stroke turbo-charged V-8 diesel engines could carry them. The gunner sighed. “There they go.”

The pilot chuckled. “How about giving them a good send off.”