Chapter 15: Dash of Revelry

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It was bountiful, as far as the eyes could see, whether they were grounded to our feet or fluttering in the wind, they were everywhere, a light color, similar to snow, yet opposite, as this beige sand was fried in the sun.

When the sun reached its zenith, then, the ground, the dust, reflected by the light, shined like crystals...no, that wasn't true, perhaps it was merely an illusion, as the sun tormented my very being.

This scorching wave, and from it, the hot air wafted over my face. It dressed my skin, resulting in sweat that dripped down to my neck.

The only sight that distinguished itself were the dead bushes that randomly sprouted as we passed, and the distant, tall mountains that sandwiched us in this field.

Loud, the only sound I heard were the engines, like wild beasts, roaring through this vast, empty field.

(Ah....so...hot)

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Minutes passed, hours passed, and so, we reached our relief.

From my view through the scope, there, surrounded by fences, heavily defended, as if none could get in, or out. Artillery and these beastly vehicles numbering by the hundreds.

"We're here!"

Shouted loudly by the one beside me, as we closed the distance, the got louder, the sound of work.

Men all around moved in unison, with movements that were efficient and looked strong. With some that repaired the Humvees, some sparred with each other, and others conversed with one another.

As we left the car, we were greeted 'warmly'.

"What, you maggots already got back?"

The man in front of us said so to us as we were welcomed to our camp, a middle aged man, with a seemingly short stature, at least compared to us.

"Yes sir"

And another man from behind went up front to discuss with him, our superior who went with us, a tall man, with a powerful presence.

"Sergeant, report"

"Yes sir"

Before their talk could continue, the sergeant looked to us and said:

"All of you, get to your tents"

With a commanding voice, we merely obeyed.

Steadily walking, with our equipment, as if we carried rocks on us, but before long, we were called out by those around us.

"Oh, the FNGs are here!"

"Welcome back! FNGs!"

"How was it? FNGs?"

"Did you shit yourselves? FNGs?"

The men we considered our elders, and as though it was tradition, all of them snickered as we trekked to our tents.

What stood in front of us was a rather big tent, capable of housing dozens. Though, a tent was still a tent, it could've fallen over at any point, and it simply answered the problem of not having a roof. Even so, the amount of weapons and men that filled this tent offered us a sense of comfort.

As we entered, our noses were flooded with the smell of...army. To define it was near impossible, with different odors having already mixed with each other. Stinky socks, smelly clothes, rancid underwear, regardless, it was unavoidable, as it already became commonplace.

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