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He had spent his time in hell, sharpening his bayonet, meticulously dusting the sand out of the rifle's firing mechanism, and making damn sure he had water. If the patrol was ambushed, which he felt certain it would, he wanted to be as prepared as he could. He was a short timer, with three days to go before his unit was to re-deploy back to the states and he found himself unconciously counting the heartbeats that pounded at the walls of his chest.
The Humvees raced out of the compound, spitting up heavy plumes of buckskin-colored dust as they followed the road to the outskirts of Anbar Province. Engineers had already swept the road for mines and vehicles that might be rigged with IED's, the Iraqi equivalent of Vietnam's infamous Bouncing Betty, a boobytrap that virtually guaranteed losing a limb at best and a death at the worst.
The Convoy approached the city's outskirts speeding towards it as though they were the cavalry, albeit a cavalry riding in to help the indians dressed as settlers. The normally bustling streets sat eerily quiet, and the turret gunners eyed the rooftops for any sign af an ambush or enemy soldier with an itchy finger aiming an RPG. After spending the afternoon, going house to house and finding nothing, the convoy saddled up and raced out of the city toward the base. As they passed the last house, a car sped toward the lead Humvee and exploded as it rammed the passengeer side where Shortimer, riding shotgun had just sighed with relief about ending his last patrol without incident, and could only stare wide-eyed at the wickedly laughing driver.
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Comment by Sandra Davies on May 16, 2010 at 11:50pm
Comment by Joseph Lupoli on May 16, 2010 at 8:23pm
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