We wait in position, hidden amongst the trees. An ambush is set, and when the rebel column comes by our trap will be sprung.
A few hours ago, we got a message from one of the Loyalist Partisans; one of them was going to pretend to guide a detachment of rebel soldiers to sneak up on us, when in reality he will be leading them directly into an ambush. Right now, we need only wait for the rebel column to reach the proper checkpoint.
The "guide" stops, and crouches on the ground. We have the signal to fire.
The rebel column is caught off guard, and many are killed right away. Those who are able to turn and fire back.
The bullets are flying both ways, and the sound sure is something else.
I pull out a grenade and fling it at the surrounded rebels, and other peacekeepers follow suit. The loyalist militiamen also throw their grenades, and the chain of explosions reduce the rebel column to a handful of men.
They are crouched behind the corpses of their comrades, and are unable to fire back. I see one of them trying to scream something, but I can not hear them over the firing. I am able to figure out what he is saying via lip reading.
"We surrender! We surrender!"
I realize this and shout to my comrades, "Hold your fire."
The loyal soldiers stop firing, but it is too late. Someone threw a grenade at the surrendering rebels just before I gave the orders to cease fire, and the explosion killed the seven surviving rebels.
Charred and perforated corpses lie all around, the snow is coated with a fresh coat of red.
The loyalist partisan who guided the rebels into the ambush unfortunately did not survive; we found him dead on the ground with the knife of a District 13 corporal lodged firmly in his chest. He died helping the Panem Government protect its people from rebel aggression, so his body was taken back to camp to be processed and buried along with the bodies of the peacekeepers who died in the ambush.
The rebel bodies were stripped of weapons, ammunition, and other valuables, then they were piled into a wretched heap and left to rot; we do not want to waste gas on a flamethrower cremation and digging a mass grave would take too long.
As we began heading back, I got a message on my communicator.
"Major Hardley, head back to the camp right away. The rebels are attacking."
There is no time to loose.