I'll be the first to admit that my luck with mosquitoes has always been good. Even after El Nino had come through before summer camp and everyone gotten eaten alive, I yielded no bites among my skin. Fourth of July in the humid of Iowa, I was left unharmed by the swarms of skeeters that seemed to eat my white-corn-fed-brethren alive. Nearly 11 months here, and I had yet to be bitten by the annoying creature. Of course it's easy to kill one or two zombies without being bitten or defeat the scouts of a large army, but when the horde comes over the hill or the zombie apocalypse breaks out, even the best warrior will surely fall. Will surely be bitten.
Last night we responded to another IED attack, and disabled American vehicle. Luckily no one had been hurt except for a few tires, a truck's engine, and some armor. Apparently standing sewage water mixed with decently warm weather are signs of the mosquito apocalypse. The rich American blood attracting the dismal creatures from their habitat of stand still water. They came in swarm after swarm, and my attempts to bat them away only miserably failed. I was careful to only breath through my nose, as one after the other were sucked in to the back of my throat, followed by spitting and coughing to dislodged the evil from it's grasp on my tonsils. The change in strategy only worked so far, as one after another mosquito was sucked in like a line of blow at Robert Downey Jr. party.
Pulling security while being eaten alive by mosquitoes is not very fun, and takes a lot more discipline than I would rather muster. After watching idiots nearly tip the vehicle as they tried to recover it, Mr. Incredible had had enough and we went to sit back in the truck. I thought this would be my asylum. The up-armored humvee, weighing over 14,000 pounds, nearly invincible to enemies attacks, but tonight it's perimeter had been breached. Hand to hand combat it would be. I sat in the truck, and to my dismay the mosquitoes had infiltrated in a swarm greater than I could have ever anticipated. True epidemic ensued as the entire truck combated these wretched creatures. They attacked relentlessly, in overwhelming numbers. The odds were in their favor. It was like the scene in Star Wars, where the rebels are fighting the imperials in a space dog fight. Only this time with gravity, and no special effects. It was perhaps greater than the final battle from the Lord of The Rings films.
Mosquito after mosquito attacked perilously. My only defense, the wave of a hand in front of the face and a girly scream. They were everywhere. From before morning nautical twilight to well after the sun had risen into the sky, the two winged beasts gave it there all. Inflicting wounds among me and the men. The scratching nearly out of control. Eventually we had dwindled their numbers into the manageable level, but not before they had made their marks. We arrived back to base in the morning light, victors in battle and war, but losers in heart and soul. The mosquitoes made their mark, we limped slowly and quietly into the base. No welcoming party, just the death tolls amounted. 273,000 mosquitoes dead. Our casualty toll, 7 dead, 13 wounded.
Hannah Montanna Six Out
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