It's 1730. We've been running a few errands for work on the other side of base. Our last stop was the PX, where we picked up stuff we probably didn't need, including ice cream on a stick. We're joking, laughing, satisfied from the sweet, cool ice cream on a day that probably reached a high of 115 degrees (we rarely keep close track anymore).
We reach the intersection to the perimeter road. Humvees fly through the 3-way stop at full speed - QRF, headed toward the South Gate. About 30 seconds later, 2 medic choppers blast overhead, disappearing into the horizon over the southern fields.
We drove on in silence.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment