Wait for Hours.

Someone call for a chopper.
Heavy casualties are being reported from the field.

Hefty losses sustained, and in search of some stabilization.
"The radio's out, and we're going to have to walk miles for better reception."

Rinse this fellow's wound out.
Tie his arm in a tourniquet and isolate the bleeding limb.

Ambushed soldiers are strewn across the forest floor.
I'm doing what I can, but my help means nothing if we keep taking incoming fire.

Tracer fire leads back to the enemy position.
Maybe hail will serve as a friendly reminder to not encroach.

Let's make a break for it.
Sink or swim.

I dream of my bed, but I don't think I'll be getting there tonight.
Let's make our way out to the ridge.

I'm all out of coffee and cigarettes anyway, and we can make our call for an extraction there.
We might have to wait for hours, as they are always, always late.