I thought for sure we had outsmarted the enemy, but it seems as if they've found us ... suddenly the very air crackles with danger, and that leaves us no choice but to vacate the premesis ...
I smell the very air of death, and if one isn't careful, I or any of my comrades could be shot down faster than you can spit out "Jack Robinson". Gunfire cracks in the distance, and I hear the frenzied, high-pitched yelling of foreigners. They are out for blood: American blood. Our blood. They won't rest until one of us (or all) are dead or, at the very least, mortally wounded.
It's beyond terrifying!
I grab my gear and high-tail it out of there faster than a jackrabbit on LSD. My heart is thumping in my ears in a rapid staccato of adrenaline and fear, sweat courses down my body even though it is in the high nineties outside, and my breathing is labored, ragged. I pray nobody sees me or any of my comrades who are fighting right alongside me ...
I hear a loud "BOOM!" behind me. I feel the ground percuss beneath my feet, like a small earthquake, but I dare not look back. I run faster than I've ever ran before and pray to God to get me to the next hiding place in one piece. I pray Psalm 91 over my body and ask God to surround me with His divine protection as I streak across the countryside, not knowing what (or who) might be lurking in the shadows.
I pray nobody in my group was hit by enemy fire, but deep down inside, I know that is a distinct possibility. I don't even count heads; I just see some people running beside me, and I pray for their safekeeping as well. I feel tears prick my eyes, but they don't fall until we reach a small cave. Only then can I let the tears fall and weep openly as I give thanks to God for allowing us to find yet another hiding place from the enemy.
~To be continued.~