“Here come the seagulls.” I looked outside and saw a whole flock of kids coming towards my truck. “They always come in droves.”

The first one started. “Water.”

“No water. Scram,” my driver replied.

“Water, mista.” My driver tossed a warm half-full bottle. “Now leave.”

“Gimmie a dollar.”

“What? No way,”

“You rich. Gimmie two dollar.”

“No way, I have an ex-wife. Tell you what. Where do you live?” Fingers pointed to town. “If you run home and get back first, I’ll give you a dollar.” They left in a blur.

We started the truck and pulled on the road.

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The first boom was close. Everyone jumped. He froze.

Exactly the situation he didn’t want.

A group of drivers waiting to be searched stood around him getting papers checked. They were jittery. His bunker was too far away, the bunker for the locals a little past that. If he could find the impact, maybe he had some time.

The second thunderbolt fixed things in his mind. It was counter-battery fire going out. Good. He had expected a spray of gravel any second.

He turned to his interpreter. “Can you tell them to calm down? It’s us shooting.”

Another boom roared.

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He stood alongside the Hummer looking at the water in the canal.

There was a thump in the distance. “Did you hear that?” has driver asked. “Was that an impact or shot out?”

He turned to get back to the Hummer. Whatever it was, he would be safer behind armor. There was a crackle. “Ooh, fireworks,” he thought. He turned around before it dawned on him that Iraqis didn’t celebrate the Fourth of July.

“Did you see that? That was the sea-whiz! They shot it down!”

“We really got to get out of here now,” his gunner said. He agreed.

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T.J. had a question for the Equal Opportunity rep. It was nothing really, just something simple.

The Equal Opportunity representative was possibly the most unflappable person in around. Always patient, he was a good listener. And a good mediator. People were calmed, if not outright put to sleep, in his presence.

T.J. walked into the rep’s bay. The rep had his hands firmly around someone else’s neck. “I’ll squeeze your neck until your head pops!” the rep screamed out.

Just then the rep looked over. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Uh, never mind,” T.J. stammered. “It’s not important.”

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T.J. was proud. He had finally gotten his promotion.

Normally, a company formation was not held in a forward base. It was too tempting a target for mortar fire. But it was decided that tradition should rule. The company was formed.

T.J. would have none of that. This was too long coming. He decided to watch through binoculars from a safe distance.

“Attention to orders. PFC T.J. is promoted to Specialist.”

T.J. saw the signal and slapped his new rank on. He gave a thumbs-up.

The first round started to fall. “Hmm…” T.J. thought. “Maybe I can make sergeant soon.”

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The door slammed opened. “Get Up!” screamed Genghis Khan. Johnny Appleseed fell out of bed onto the floor.

“What the hell is going on?” Johnny asked. He looked around in the fuzzy state he was in, barely taking in the room littered with empty bottles and pills scattered on the floor. “We have a mission! We have to roll out in thirty minutes!”

Johnny tried to push himself off the floor only to have Genghis’ boot land in his ribs. “Get up, damn it!” Waking like this was one of the many reasons that Johnny hated pulling quick reaction duty.

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