The benches are warped, the air is musty. Kevlars hang heavy on our heads.

“Echo troop - Attention!”

The action is automatic. Benches groan and soldiers stand.

“TAKE SEATS!

“We like it here, we love it here, we finally found a home - a what? - a home - a what? - a home. we finally found a home.”

The Drills pace, stern and commanding. Saucered hats ride their heads.

Christmas lights line our target- festive and merry on this sweaty summer night. The trenches are deep and crumbly. It has been a dry year.

It starts. Boom. Artillery fires. Sound blasts. Dirt rains down tickatack over down-turned heads. Tatatatata. Fiery red crimson streaks the sky, pock - sun white bright blazes.

“Go!”

Boom. Tatatata. Boom. I launch over, machine fire spitting and sputtering, flares popping and artillery exploding. I tear myself through the dirt, kevlar trenches, knees cutting and bleeding on jagged stone. My M-16 lopes and wiggles, left right left right wriggle to the barbed wire. Are there any traps? Questing hands find nothing but the prick of rusty metal.

A log. I go flush and roll. A concrete barrier. I scrape around it.

Pock. A white flare blazes. One eye shut, wait for the fade. 30 seconds. Go!

Roll, crawl, barbed wire, boom! Dirt and pebbles plink and plock, raindrops torn from solid earth.

Christmas town! We are brothers under fire. Grins, laughter, blood - we braved the bullets and blasts of OSUIT and we survived.